Chapter 5
Five
Victor
I spend about ten minutes chatting with Kelsey and Adrienne poolside, then fetch some coffee and a couple of beers to bring to Jason. There’s a small fridge in our casita if he doesn’t want them right now.
I can’t decide whether to knock before entering. What if he’s awake? What if he’s not?
Turns out it’s awkward enough getting the door open with two bottles of beer and two cups of hot coffee in my hands that I probably make as much noise as if I’d banged on the door with my fist.
Jason is still sprawled out on the sofa, on his stomach, one arm bent and stuffed under a throw pillow, the other dangling off the edge of the sofa.
I hunker down at the end of the coffee table and manage to set the coffees and beer bottles down on its glass top without spilling or tipping anything over.
Then I settle on my ass, cross my legs, and look at the sleeping man in front of me.
He doesn’t look his age, though I know he’s turning fifty this year.
His black hair has silver glints at the temples, but he’s still got all of it, as far as I can see.
He’s got a matched pair of lines around his nose and mouth and a set of furrows between his brows that apparently don’t ease even in sleep.
December is probably his busiest time of year, between the Christmas services and holiday concerts. I wonder when he last took a vacation. Hopefully, Kelsey can convince him to relax some this week.
“Jay,” I whisper. His eyelids twitch and his lips tighten. Damn it, I really need to stop using that nickname. I clear my throat and try again.
“Jason.” I put a hand on his shoulder. It’s warm and the muscles under his shirt are firm. “Time to wake up, dude.”
“Aren’t you a little old to be calling everyone ‘dude’?” He says this without opening his eyes and the sleepy rasp to his voice makes the words sound fond rather than annoyed.
Which is a hundred percent projection on my part because Jason has never once indicated he feels fondness toward me.
Fake friendliness with an undercurrent of gritted teeth? Sure.
Resigned acceptance of our shared role in Kelsey’s life? Yeah.
Irritation at what he considers my flightiness and irresponsibility? Definitely.
But genuine affection for me as a person, unrelated to being his stepdaughter’s dad? Not remotely.
Not even when we fucked the night of Leah’s funeral. That was hard and desperate and almost brutal.
Don’t get me wrong, I loved every minute of it.
“Well, you don’t like my other nickname for you, so this is what you get.”
He cracks an eye open and glares up at me. “What is wrong with my actual name?”
“Nothing, man. Jason,” I correct myself. I’m really not looking for a fight here. “Look, I brought you coffee. And beer, in case you want that instead.”
Jason yawns and scrubs a hand over his face, then levers himself upright and swings his legs around to sit properly. “Thanks,” he says.
“I didn’t know if you take anything in it, so this one’s black and that has cream.” I point them out. “Do you take sugar? I can find some, if you need it.”
He shakes his head and reaches for the black coffee, takes a long swallow. “God, that’s good.”
He takes another gulp, closing his eyes while swallowing. My eyes track the movements of his throat, then linger at the hollow between his collarbones.
I kissed that spot. Fifteen years ago, I put my tongue there and tasted his skin. The salt from his tears, then the salt from his sweat when things got heated between us.
I haven’t seen this spot since that night. I wouldn’t now, except that the first two buttons of his button-down shirt are undone and his undershirt is rumpled and stretched from his nap.
When I drag my eyes away and lean back on my hands to look back at his face, Jason is looking at me with an expression I can’t interpret. His eyes flick between me, the coffee in his hand, and the beer bottles on the small table.
“What?” I ask after the moment drags out to be a little uncomfortable.
“Nothing,” he says. “Thank you for the coffee. I’ll take that beer too, actually.”
I spring to my feet and cross the room to the cabinet that holds the mini-fridge. There are two bottles of red wine on the surface and yes, a wine key to open them with. I bring it back and use the bottle opener end to crack open both beers, then hand one to Jason.
He cocks his head to the side and gives me that same inscrutable look again.
“What?” I demand.
His lips twitch and he shakes his head. “Nothing. Really. I just…I feel like a cranky toddler being attended to by a hovering parent desperate to find something to placate me with.”
I open my mouth to protest, but he waves his hand at me. “I don’t mean that as an insult. It’s just…I’m not used to someone taking care of me.” He says it like it’s a fact, not a complaint.
Is that what I’m doing? Taking care of Jason?
I suppose I have been thinking of ways to make him more comfortable since he arrived. He looks so tired. And it’s not like I have many other responsibilities right now. No clients to train, no cycling classes to teach, just a handful of yoga sessions to guide here at the resort.
There’s only one thing I have to do this week and Kelsey doesn’t need me until Friday.
“Doesn’t look like you’re doing a great job of taking care of yourself.” I wince when he raises an eyebrow at me. I didn’t mean that the way it sounds. The care and feeding of Jason Perez is none of my business and hasn’t been for a long time.
“Well, thank you again for the coffee and beer.” He raises his beer bottle and tips it towards me. I grab mine, tip it in his direction, and we gently clink bottles.
Then I take a long drink and try like hell not to watch Jason’s throat as he swallows.