Chapter 15 #2
But when the warmth of the cotton, and the warmth of her body, pressed against his skin, he acquiesced. He pulled it around himself and put an arm around her to bring them closer so they’d both be wrapped.
“This okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, breathlessly.
She was soft, still so wet, but her body was warming from being cloaked.
He could hardly help himself as they walked; it took every ounce of his willpower not to pull her in all the way to his body, tilt up her chin, and kiss her.
Instead, he directed her toward his car. They both stared at the vintage leather interior for a moment.
“This is totally going to ruin your seats, isn’t it?”
If Raffi was alone and happened to be fountain-soaked, he would have simply taken off his clothes and driven in the buff. That wasn’t really an option here.
“Okay, here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to put the top on, bump the heat all the way up. You keep the blanket, I’m—”
“I don’t want to completely ruin your seats. Just take off your shirt. Maybe even your pants. I won’t look.”
He raised an eyebrow at her while his pulse skyrocketed. “You won’t look?”
She shrugged.
He hesitated. “You can look.”
“I can?”
“I mean, if you— It won’t, you know, it won’t embarrass me, is what I’m saying.”
“Right, right,” she said quickly.
“All right so, let’s get to it.”
Raffi exited the blanket, and the press of her body, the windy Napa air freezing him immediately. He worked to set the roof of the car in place and snapped it in.
Ani swaddled herself and slid into the car, looking snug, he was happy to see.
Now his part. He unbuttoned his shirt and had the distinct thought that this was not how he wanted to be undressing in front of Ani. He had imagined a more intimate scene, not the parking lot of the DePietro Winery, free for any tourist to see.
Ani kept her eyes forward as he undressed, studying the dials and switches of his car.
Raffi placed his hands on his pants waist, then felt terribly embarrassed and decided he’d rather destroy his car’s interior than sit in his wet Calvin Kleins in front of Ani.
If he ever got the chance to take his pants off in front of her, it was going to be on his terms, not dictated by the delicacy of his car.
“I’ll get you back to your car so you can go home and rest,” he said.
“Thanks,” Ani said.
He slid in, Jaguar gods forgive him. Then, true to his word, he turned the heat on as high as it went.
“Would you be okay if I did a more thorough exam when we get to my place? I mean, right before I send you off? I just want to make sure you’re okay to drive.”
“Of course, that’d—”
She cut herself off, staring at him for the first time since he removed his shirt.
He felt her gaze blazing hot on his skin.
Raffi kept himself fit. Sure, he was no beefy Moushegh but he was muscled, and weights and cardio were a part of his daily routine.
He was vain enough to want, achieve, and maintain a six-pack.
That was a bonus, though. Working out had been the only way he’d stayed sane in med school.
“You kept your pants on,” she said. Why did she sound almost disappointed about it?
“It was too amot,” he replied.
Amot, the Armenian word for “shameful” that ruled behavior. Ensure you don’t do anything amot. Don’t say anything amot.
“And being shirtless wasn’t?”
“It’s certainly skirting the line, but I figured my medz would forgive me for losing my shirt. Not the pants, though.”
“Fair.”
A moment passed, thick with something between them Raffi couldn’t quite pin down. Raffi gripped the steering wheel, flexing his fingers against the leather, trying to ground himself. Ani was right there, wrapped in the blanket, close enough that if he just reached out—
He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to focus on the road ahead.
She had almost drowned today. That was what mattered.
Yes, she had been giving him looks, real interested looks.
Yes, she had that flicker of disappointment in her voice when she realized his pants were staying on.
And yes, his body had reacted, heat unfurling low in his stomach despite the cold air still clinging to his skin.
But he knew now was not the time to make a move. He exhaled, shifting slightly in his seat, trying to shake off the feeling.
Instead, he wanted to ask her something real, but not too heavy. Something that would let him hold on to these moments a little longer, to keep her in this new, pleasantly strange space they had wandered into.
So he asked, “When you get home, what are you going to do? What are your, I don’t know, comfort things?”
It was casual, but the answer mattered. Because after everything, he wanted to know what steadied her, what made her feel safe. He wanted to know her.
Ani smiled, that private smile again. He loved it, and he wanted to put that on her face every single day.
“Well, I’ll probably take a bath with some eucalyptus salts.”
“Very nice.”
“It’s not that nice. The bathtub is probably from 1950, and who knows what previous tenants have done in it. I usually just shower.”
Please, go on describing the details therein, he thought.
“But then I’ll probably get in my giant towel robe and watch The Wedding Planner for the zillionth time.”
Raffi almost slammed on the breaks. The Wedding Planner. Of course she loved that movie. She was J.Lo’s character personified.
“You really are a modern-day Mary Fiore,” he said, a knowing grin on his face.
Ani turned her burritoed body toward him.
“Excuse me?” she asked. “You pulled that deep-cut character-name knowledge out of your head? What is going on here?”
“I love that movie. I’ve probably seen it about six or seven times.”
“Six or seven! You?”
He put a hand over his heart. “You wound me, thinking I wouldn’t love a masterpiece like that.”
“It’s not that, it’s just—” She paused. “No, you’re right. You’ve done nothing but surprise me, Raffi.”
“Hopefully in a good way.”
“Definitely in a good way.”
He wanted to see the expression on her face but felt it would be too significant, and he wanted that but it also scared him, so Raffi kept his eyes forward.
“My brother introduced me to it,” he said. As soon as it was out of his mouth, Raffi couldn’t believe he’d said it.
He never talked about Sevan. Never. And now he had twice with Ani.
Not only that, but he felt like he was dying to go on.
Raffi explained, “He was completely infatuated with J.Lo and would make these outrageous statements like ‘This is J.Lo at peak beauty. Utter perfection.’ So we’d sneak around and watch it together, commenting on it like we were sportscasting, cheering when they kissed, all that.
We had to make sure Dad was out of the house before we put it on.
He’d hate that we were watching it. Only action movies starring men in our household.
I’ve seen every single James Bond movie. Not that I don’t love those, too.”
Ani gestured around her. “And were possibly influenced by his style?”
He smirked. “Possibly.” Yeah, he couldn’t say he hadn’t wanted to be just like James Bond, the womanizing and all. But even Bond must have grown tired of that life, never attaching himself to anyone. 007 dying alone. Raffi didn’t wish for that.
“What about you? It’s your comfort movie?”
“I watched it when I was ten or so and realized that was exactly what I wanted to do. My sister and I were always marriage obsessed—” She cleared her throat.
“You know, in a kid kind of way. The romance of it all. I’m not, I mean—things have changed there.
But I was always kind of a romantic. And always pretty organized.
So the idea of getting to plan other people’s weddings seemed like a dream.
I wanted to be just like Mary Fiore, just as professional and calm and competent. ”
Why, when she mentioned marriage obsessed, did Raffi not freak out but instead get this gooey feeling inside? That was pretty unusual, even for an intense crush. Right? He didn’t really know; this was uncharted territory.
“Well, you sure are. Every time I’ve been calling you Miss Wedding Planner I’ve had J.Lo—Mary Fiore—in mind.”
“That’s…really sweet. Too bad I don’t also have her success.”
Raffi cocked his head to the side. She was ambitious, he liked that. “Well, maybe after this wedding you will.”
“Put us both on the map.”
And generous. He was wishing her success and she came right back and brought him into it. This woman, this woman!
They arrived at his home far too soon, and Raffi did not want their time together to end.
He also was legitimately worried about all she had been through, and how her driving an hour and a half back home could be a terrible idea.
But he didn’t want to seem like he was keeping her here in some kind of domineering, possessive way, especially if she didn’t want to stay.
Raffi parked and got out of the car. The shift from being soaked and stuck to the seat to standing upright in mossy fountain wetness was miserable, but he didn’t want to keep Ani waiting.
He wasn’t about to duck inside, change, then tend to her while she was wrapped in this blanket, quietly dripping on the sidewalk.
“Okay, let’s check you out,” he said.
She came near him, and he became acutely aware of how shirtless he was.
“I have kind of a headache.”
“Did you hit your head when you fell?”
“No. More like a regular headache.” She pointed to a spot on her head. “Here. It’s not so bad, though.”
“Would you be okay if I felt around the area? Just in case.”
The rise and fall of her chest seemed to deepen slightly. Maybe it was his imagination. Maybe it wasn’t. “Yes, that’d be fine,” she said quietly.
Raffi weaved his fingers into her hair in the area she indicated, pulling back strands, and looked for bruising, cuts, or any other signs of impact. Her hair was so thick, it fell heavy along his fingers.
“Let me know if anything I’m doing hurts you.”
“Okay,” she breathed. “It doesn’t, so far.”
He kept lifting locks but found no signs of impact. He arrived back at the area she had pointed to.
“I’m going to press gently. It might hurt a little, but tell me what it’s like on the pain scale.”
She nodded. He pressed two fingers against her scalp. “Anything?” he asked.
“No, I don’t think so. It’s hard to tell. I guess I’m a little, uh, distracted.”
Raffi reddened and was glad her head was turned away from him. If there was any legitimate pain, she would have noticed. That was enough to stop his worries and concentrate instead on his joy.
“Oh?” he asked.
“I mean, I’m face-to-face with your pecs. Let’s not pretend you don’t have—I mean, you know. You know how hot you are.”
He honest to God did not think she felt that way.
Raffi took pride in his appearance, but Ani seemed, first, preoccupied with Kami, and when that abated, she seemed to be utterly focused on her work.
And in their interactions, she called him out, joked with him in ways women he was attracted to didn’t.
He thought it was possible she didn’t find him to be her cup of tea physically, which was fine. Not everyone did.
And now she was telling him how hot he was? Standing mere inches from him, his hands wound in her hair.
He decided to run his fingers through, all the way to the ends, and her eyes closed in what appeared to be pleasure. He wanted to do the same.
“Thank you,” he said softly. “I’ve never enjoyed a compliment more.”
“Stop,” she said, laughing.
He put a hand lightly on her shoulder. “I mean it. It feels truer, coming from you.”
A car drove behind them then, blasting an eighties ballad Raffi knew but had forgotten the name of, soundtracking their moment. He should kiss her, right? This was the moment. He could just lean in and touch his lips to hers.
Suddenly her eyes grew huge, huger than normal, which was quite a sight.
“The band!”
He stepped back, feeling the moment was over. He was also curious about what this important band was that could interrupt their quiet, private moment. “What band?”
She closed her eyes in embarrassment. “I can’t go home.
I completely forgot. With all the, you know, near-death experiences and all.
In a couple hours I was going to check out this band, The Six Intentions, for Kami and Grace.
They’re supposed to be the best wedding band, but I wanted to see them play live to get their vibe.
Music can make or break a wedding, especially one like our brides are planning.
When I emailed, they said that they were playing an engagement party tonight and that the family said I was welcome to stop by and listen. ”
Raffi smiled inwardly. Well, this could work, too.
“That’s perfect then.”
“No, it’s not, look at me!”
Raffi gestured toward his home. “You can do your eucalyptus bath and comfort movie here. I have everything you need to get ready.”
She still seemed a bit worried. “Yeah, but I don’t have anything to w—”
They looked at each other as she remembered.
“Yes, you do,” he said.
“Raffi, God. Did you have this planned?” She laughed.
“Did I make DePietro trip you into its ridiculous fountain? You were right, by the way, about the liability, and I’m never doubting your judgment again.”
She smiled, tucking her chin. “Fine, thank you. Okay. I’ll stay. But I’m going to wear my normal white dress, not the—”
“You can’t wear white to an engagement party.” Raffi laughed at himself. “Why am I the one telling you this?”
Ani froze, eyes widening slightly as the realization hit. “Oh. Shoot. I—”
“Wear the Balmain.”
“I can’t—”
“Wear it,” he said gently. They stared at each other intensely. Then he added, “It’ll be perfect for the party. Assuming it fits. Doesn’t hurt to at least try.”
She did not break his gaze. “Fine, I’ll try it. Show me in.”
With that, Raffi scooped up the two dresses from the trunk in one hand, his wet shirt in the other, and led Ani toward his front door.