Chapter 7 #2
“Come here, Freckles.” His voice is soft, almost soothing, as his eyes capture mine. Taking a deep breath, I lie down in front of him, my body stiff, trying not to melt into his warmth. I really should turn up the thermostat. It’s so hot outside, so I like to keep it cool in here.
Landon pulls the throw blanket from the back of the couch and drapes it over me. Then, to my surprise, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. “You good?” he asks, and his hot breath ghosts across my ear.
“Y-Yeah.”
“What are we watching?” he asks, turning on the TV. He doesn’t seem the least bit fazed that we’re lying together so intimately on my couch.
“Anything.” I should have known better than to agree to this.
In a way, this is more intimate than having sex.
The connection of our bodies, the warmth we share.
It’s overwhelming, and I can’t help but wonder what it would be like if there was an us.
If I was more than just the chase. If this thing between us was more than just the fact that I turned him down.
Would this be our thing? Relaxing and cuddling on the couch?
He flips through the channels and stops on a movie channel that’s playing Sweet Home Alabama . I love this movie. I am from the South, after all. “This okay?”
“Yes. But you can watch whatever.” Satisfied with my reply, he sets the remote on the floor, tucking his hand behind his head.
My body is stiff as I fight the urge to relax into his embrace.
We’re lying on our sides, and his hand is resting on my belly, holding me to him.
“Relax, Freckles.” It’s as if my body needed his words as permission to do just that.
I feel my shoulders relax, and my body sinks further into the couch.
He mumbles something that sounds like “That’s my girl,” and I feel his lips press to the back of my head.
This is way too much. It’s wrong to be here with him like this, when we’re nothing to each other.
Nothing more than acquaintances, yet here I am, letting him into my home.
Again. Giving in to his demands. Letting him hold me.
Okay, maybe it wasn’t a demand, but all the same, I shouldn’t be doing this.
I just can’t seem to make myself pull away.
Drawing out of my thoughts, I turn my attention back to the movie. I let myself get lost in the love story. I’ve seen this one at least one hundred times, but it never gets old. I could repeat the lines by heart as if I played the role.
“So I can kiss you anytime I want,” I whisper with Reese Witherspoon as she stands before her leading man in the pouring rain.
Landon’s thumb traces small circles over my belly, and I endure it until the credits roll. Needing some distance, I sit up, pulling out of his embrace, and stand. “Dinner should be ready.”
His eyes are bright blue and filled with something I can’t quite name as he peers up at me. “Tess,” he says softly, reaching out for me.
I step away from him. “I’m going to make us a salad. You eat salad, right?” My eyes travel to the eight-pack of abs clearly outlined beneath his form-fitting shirt.
“Yeah, I eat salad.” He drops his hand and pulls his long form from the couch.
Turning on my heel, I make my way to the kitchen.
I don’t have to turn to see if he’s behind me.
I can feel him. I gather the bag of salad mix, a tomato, a bag of cheese, and the bottle of ranch and French dressing from the refrigerator.
“I only have French or ranch.” I hold up the bottles to show him.
“I’ll eat either.”
“Good. Tomatoes and cheese?” I ask.
“Yes.” He comes to stand behind me, looking over my shoulder as I start to prepare our salads. “What can I do to help?”
“Uh… there’s a bag of croutons in the cabinet there.” I point to the cabinet by the fridge. I quickly avert my gaze back to the salad in front of me to keep from drooling over him. I am holding a knife, after all. I need to stay alert or I fear I could lose a digit.
“Plates?” he asks, taking the lid off the Crock-Pot and bending closer to inspect the contents or maybe smell it; I’m not really sure.
“Above your head. There’s a spoon in the drawer in front of you.” I can hear him messing around, and with a quick glance, I see he’s plating each of us some of the chicken casserole.
“This smells fantastic. What’s it in?”
“Just chicken breasts, cream of chicken soup, milk, salt and pepper, and some boxed stuffing.”
“Easy enough.”
“Do you cook?” I ask him.
“I know my way around the kitchen, but I don’t do it often. Cooking for one isn’t much fun. I always make breakfast. Hitting practice on an empty stomach is not fun. I eat a lot of takeout or at Henry’s. What about you? From the looks of this, you know your way around a kitchen, too.”
“I can cook. I just don’t do it often. Like you said, cooking for one is not so fun. I had planned to eat this all weekend and then take the leftovers to work for Autumn, Jeremy, and JJ on Monday.”
“I’m sure they appreciate that.”
“They do. It happens pretty much every time I cook. I hate the idea of food going to waste.”
“Yeah, me too. Eating out is easier.”
“I eat a lot of frozen meals, which I know isn’t exactly the healthiest option, but it works.”
“Sounds like the two of us should share more meals together.”
Deliberately ignoring his words, I turn to face him, saying, “Here you go.” I hand him his bowl of salad.
Grabbing my bowl and the two bottles of dressing, I place them on the table.
Landon already has our plates with two forks, so there’s nothing left to do but drinks.
“What would you like to drink? I have water and lemonade, and I think I have a bottle of wine….” My voice trails off as I try to remember if I do, in fact, still have a bottle of wine.
“Water is fine. I’ll grab it. Sit.” He points to the seat next to his at the table, where he places my plate. It would be rude to move to the opposite end of the table to get some distance from him. He’s so… big and commanding, and he makes my tiny house feel even smaller.
“So, your folks live in Georgia?” he asks, taking a bite of his salad once he’s seated.
“My mom does. She loves it there.”
“Good for her.”
“What about you? Does your family live nearby?”
“They do, actually, about an hour from here. I still don’t get to see them as much as I’d like. They make it to all of my home games, and we usually have dinner afterward. Sometimes Mom cooks at my place. She thinks that she still needs to take care of me.”
“I can imagine that’s a feeling, or need rather, that never goes away once you have kids.”
“That’s what she tells me.” He takes a bite of his casserole, his salad bowl now empty. “Wow, this is really good.”
“You doubted me?” I feign being shocked.
“Never.” He takes another big bite. “You want kids?” he asks.
Luckily, I’m in between bites or I might have choked. “Yes. Do you?”
He nods. “Yeah, one day. At least two, if not more. It was lonely growing up as an only child.”
“Right?” I say, nodding. “I was always allowed to have friends over, but it isn’t the same. Not only that, but I’ll never be an aunt, not by blood anyway. Well, I guess if my future husband has a sibling who has kids, I will. But for now, JJ is the closest thing to a nephew for me.”
“You know, I never really thought about that.”
I shrug. “I begged my mom for a sibling when I was little. It wasn’t until I was older that I understood that she needed a man to make that happen.
My dad never knew about me. I guess he was just passing through.
They spent a magical week together, and then he was gone.
She didn’t know how to reach him, and when she finally found him, he was married.
Mom just figured it was easier to let it go. I was eight at the time.”
“That had to have been hard. Growing up without a dad.”
“My mom is amazing, and except for the father-daughter dances, I didn’t really notice much. It was me and Mom against the world.”
“My parents said they didn’t want more than one.
That they couldn’t imagine loving another like they did me.
” He grins and winks. I appreciate that he realized the conversation was getting heavy, and his attempt to lighten it is greatly appreciated.
I don’t really talk about my dad. I’m surprised I did just now.
Something about Landon gets me to open up.
“Is that how the story goes?” I tease. “Would they tell the same version?”
“Okay, so maybe they said I was more than they could handle.” He laughs, and the sound fills the kitchen and makes my house feel not so… lonely.
Landon helps himself to another serving while I finish my first. He polishes it off and stands, taking both of our plates to the sink.
In no time at all, we have the kitchen cleaned up, and Landon pulls me by the hand back to the living room.
This time, he sits down on the couch, his back propped up on the arm, and spreads his legs, patting the empty space between them for me to sit.
“I don’t think I’ve had enough experimenting to know if I really like this cuddling business. ” He smirks, and I roll my eyes.
“Come on, Freckles, humor me.” He tugs gently on my hand, and I plop down on the couch.
Rolling onto my side, I rest my head on his chest. He pulls the cover over me and begins to surf through the channels.
He stops on some Sci-Fi movie. I hear the sound of the remote being placed on the end table and then feel his hand as he rests his large palm against my back.
We’re both quiet for several minutes. He begins to rub his hand up and down my back, and my body relaxes further into him.
I should fight it, but I don’t have the power.
For tonight, I’ll let him win. We’re just two friends hanging out and watching a movie.
There will never be anything more than that, not between us.
“Not bad for date number three,” he says softly, bending down so I can hear him better.
I peer up at him, and his blue eyes are soft as they take me in. “This wasn’t a date.”
“Oh, Tess, it was a date. I brought you flowers, we had dinner, and now I’m holding you. It’s a pretty damn good one if I do say so myself.”
“Landon—” I start, but he places his index finger up to my lips to stop me. “Just pretend with me. For tonight, let’s just pretend that this is our normal.”
It’s a bad idea. A very freaking bad idea, and I know this, but I nod anyway.
It’s like I can’t seem to control my reaction when I’m this close to him.
He runs his thumb under my cheek, and for a brief moment, I think he’s going to lean even closer and kiss me.
He doesn’t. He smiles softly, drops his hand, and turns his attention back to the TV.
All the while, he never stops tracing the length of my back.
I’m in trouble.
I’m in so much trouble.