5. Weland
Chapter five
Weland
W hile I walk Beans, I realize something.
I’ve never had someone. Sure, I dated in high school and on and off in college, but it was more of a light version of that. Did I ever think to myself that the boyfriend I had at the time was my someone? Someone I could depend on and rely on? No. Never.
I have a husband, but he doesn’t know me. He doesn’t care about me. He’s not my person, a safe person, the person I turn to when everything goes wrong. He’s never seen me cry. He’ll never see me cry, and he’ll never hear me laugh. He’s never had the good moments or the bad moments, the pretty or the ugly. He’s had nothing and none of it, and he never will, and darn it if that doesn’t make me feel even more alone than I’ve been feeling.
No, I’m not trying to rationalize anything. I know asking Sterling to come in was a mistake. As in, I shouldn’t have done it because of the contract. Because I made a commitment to a piece of paper and a person at the other end of it, and just because I don’t know his real name or anything about him doesn’t mean I can just do whatever I want.
When I get to my doorstep, I decide I’m going to have to tell him to leave.
But when I walk in the front door and let Beans off his leash, he goes bounding right for the super hot stranger in my kitchen who bends down and scratches his head while stuffing a cookie into his mouth with his other hand and making a grunty, sexy sound low in his throat that gets all sorts of raw interest stirring inside me, and I can’t help it.
I change my mind. Truth is, I don’t want him to leave.
We can just talk. We can talk and be friendly, and I won’t be alone, just for a few hours. Tonight was supposed to be about that. About me having fun with friends, having fun with someone who I used to have so much in common with that I called her my bestie. Instead, it ended with me being forgotten and left behind and not even knowing what club they’d gone on to next. As far as signs go, that’s a big one. And maybe this stranger is another.
Signs might be up for debate, but here are the facts. I was alone. And now I’m not alone anymore.
“How was your walk?” he asks as he finishes the cookies and licks his fingers. The sight of his tongue coming out and licking melted chocolate off his digits shouldn’t do anything to me, but it makes me feel primitive and wild in my digit. That’s right. Single digit. And no, it’s not my finger or my big toe.
“I—errrr…” Great, now I’m not capable of speaking. “Good,” I murmur. I decided to tell you that you have to leave. But now I can’t, so that’s not good. Yet it feels good to not say the words.
I make myself move toward the kitchen. I should retreat, but this place is small. It’s easy to do something because Beans has a container of food on the counter, one of those plastic ones I bought and filled with dog food. It’s easy to pour some food into his bowl. It’s a good distraction. Except when I stand up, Sterling’s deep brown eyes run smack dab into mine, and my heart goes racing at a thousand miles an hour.
Something that isn’t panic shoots through my brain, chest, and who-ha, in that order. My brain shuts off, my chest clamps down, and the rest of me… That’s the part I keep feeling. That burn. That burn of awareness. Of being in close proximity to a man who smells like forest, open skies, wild mountains, and all the beasts contained within. Well, maybe not the beasts, as per how beasts go, but he smells and looks rugged, and all that ruggedness is doing something to me even though I’ve never been a thrill seeker.
I’m probably standing here looking constipated. Idea constipated. Like I need to say something, but I can’t get it out.
I shove the food container back onto the counter. Beans walks over and starts hoovering up those crunchies. He’s a messy eater, and bits and pieces fall all over the floor.
One minute, Sterling is just standing there in my kitchen. And the next, he’s moving. He’s coming closer to me, and I should back up, but I don’t. The only thought going through my brain is straight up: He just ate my cookies, but I’d really like him to eat my cookie. He closes the distance between us way too fast. After a couple of mouthfuls, Beans loses interest in the food and saunters off toward the couch. Sterling is now way too close.
I press up against the counter until it pokes into my back. I want this. I want it to happen. My belly is cramping, my chest is about to explode from me holding my breath, and my lady bits are clenching in on themselves because, yeah, four years of celibacy, and alright, at least a year before that, do things to a person.
Apparently, all it takes is a look now to get my mojo mojoing .
Maybe it’s just been so long, or maybe it’s because Sterling is so drop-dead gorgeous, or maybe it’s that our body chemicals work well together, but I don’t feel the least bit threatened or regretful about what is going to happen. He’s going to enter my personal space. He’s going to touch me gently on the shoulder, on the waist. I’m going to lean into him and tilt my face up, and he’s going to kiss me. I’m going to kiss him back, and it’s going to kick off the best sex marathon of my life. Even if it’s over in five minutes, it would still be the best sex I’ve ever had. It would be me riding his face. His tongue would be inside me, and then his fingers, and then his—
“I—I’m super tired, actually. I should probably go to bed.” The words wheeze out of me like I’ve just used my tongue to clean up all the dust bunnies under the couch, and believe me, that old beast collects a ton of debris.
He blinks. I blink back. He steps back, and I lean further into the counter. I expect him to get mad at me for leading him on, to ask me what’s wrong with me, and to tell me that I’m a tad pathetic and strange and then storm out of here.
Instead, he nods. “You’re right. It’s late. I’ll call for a cab and get it to take me back to the club for my car.”
“Yeah.” Yeah, he could do that. But deep down, it’s yeah, as in, please don’t. Yeah, as in, change my mind. Yeah, as in, there’s this stupid contract I absolutely can’t break hanging over my head. “Or you could just uh…sleep on the couch. I could make it up for you.”
We both glance over at it. It’s not really a couch. It’s more of a loveseat. A big old plaid one that I scored because the person who lived here before me left it when they moved out. It’s not comfortable, but I didn’t want to pay someone to come and take it away, and I didn’t have the heart to throw it out because, structurally, it’s still quite sound.
“Sure.”
I think we’re both shocked. Suddenly, he looks tired. He rubs the back of his neck like he caught a red-eye flight from somewhere this morning and has been worried and on his feet ever since. Maybe it’s the white button-down shirt and jacket he’s wearing that puts the image in my head. Suits always scream office, which screams businessman. I realize I don’t know a darn thing about this guy. Yet I was going to…to what? Right now, I don’t remember what I was going to do, but I was going there in my mind. I don’t know where he comes from, what he does, or what his last name even is.
“Okay. I’ll just go get blankets and pillows. Hold on.”
It does my burning face and wild, shaken, and stirred-up insides good to race up the stairs and raid my linen closet, which is basically just the tiniest cupboard in the hallway. It’s full of crap that doesn’t fit anywhere else. I don’t have a spare bedroom, and no one ever sleeps over, so I have to grab two pillows off my bed, but it’s a queen-sized bed, and there are four pillows, so it works out well. I do have an extra quilt and a set of sheets.
Downstairs, I don’t look at Sterling. I can’t believe I asked him to stay. I don’t know why I can’t just let him go when I know I can’t move forward with him. It’s crazy. I should never have even talked to him beyond apologizing for spilling my drink on him at the bar. I don’t know what it is about him. Something just makes me feel drawn to him.
I need to spend some time thinking about what I can tell him. Technically, I can’t say a thing. What with the gag order and all that. Can I somehow find a way to tell him that, right now, I’m not free to make my own decisions, but in a year, things will be different? Can I give him my number and tell him if he’s still single and wants to do this at this time next year, then I’m down for it?
He’ll think I’m crazy. He probably already does.
I finish spreading out the quilt and then take a step back, my face on fire. My brain feels sludgy, and my body feels heavy with regret. “If you need anything, just let me know. Coffee’s always on in the morning. I get up early, even when I go to bed late. And I hope you don’t mind sharing with Beans. The couch is kind of his thing. I bought him a dog bed, but he refuses to use it.”
Beans is standing right next to the couch. He gives me one of those raised doggy eyebrows and looks at me like he can’t believe I’m serious.
I can’t believe I’m serious either.
I can’t believe any of this even happened.
“I’ll be fine. Thank you,” Sterling says.
“No, thank you . Thank you for making sure I got home okay. And for not murdering me as soon as we got here.”
“There’s still time.” But he laughs, kind of nervous and warm at the same time.
I know it’s crazy because anyone would tell me how unsafe I’m being, but I just don’t feel like there’s anything to worry about. “Please don’t,” I joke back.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to leave?” His eyes track toward the door, but there’s the same strange reluctance burning in them that I feel. Not because he wants to pressure me into anything. It’s just…I don’t really know what it is. It’s not something I’ve ever felt or can put into words.
If it’s just pheromones, I’d be seriously surprised.
“Are you sure you don’t mind smelling dog farts all night?” He probably has a five-star hotel booked. As it is, he has a rental car back at the club. He can go anywhere. I don’t know why I get the vibe that he’s not from here, but I do. Something about the image of the red-eye flight I just had. Maybe I’m wrong and he actually lives here. It could be that he just likes to dress up to go out. “Because I’m alright. I got home safe. I’m all good now.” Please stay. Please let me tell you whatever I figure out I’m going to say in the morning. Please let me be crazy enough to ask you to find me in a year. Please let a year not be too long.
You know the really strange, shivery sensation you get when your forever is staring you right in the face? Neither do I. I’ve never had it. Until now. Right now, my knees feel like they’re going to knock together, and that chilled-out feeling becomes so strong. It’s like suddenly having your eyes opened to the supernatural.
“I tend not to breathe very deeply when I sleep. It’s a condition. So I shouldn’t even smell anything.”
We both look at how tiny the couch is. There’s no way it’s going to be comfortable. And having to share it with another body? No, unfortunately, not my body. There isn’t any extra room.
“Okay, if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure if you’re sure,” he replies.
I don’t know why I’m sure, but I am. I feel like morning will bring something monumental, if only I can find the right words and the right way to say them. One small action right now can change the future in a myriad of ways. I know that’s true because I’ve read enough fantasy and adventure and time travel books to believe in it. I just have to make that one small action become a reality.
I nod, my heart still banging against my ribs while the rest of me buzzes and flutters. “Sweet dreams, Sterling. And Beans. I’ll make sure the coffee is extra strong tomorrow morning to make up for the terrible sleep you’re going to have on the couch.”