11. Countdown #2
She still seems turned on, but it might be because of my house.
Part of me is proud, similar to the feeling when people appreciate a particularly meaningful restoration I’ve done. And there’s this weird caveman-like satisfaction that the woman I’m into openly admires the home I’ve worked so hard on.
The mid-century era has been on my radar ever since I first got my hands on my elusive 1969 Boss 429 Mustang. People usually think I bought my house because of the popularity of the show Mad Men. They’d probably all laugh if I told them I bought it ‘cause it went with my car.
“This is beautiful, Flynn,” Jackie says, her eyes roving over the large ribbon windows and floor-to-ceiling sliding glass doors that make up the entire back wall of my house.
“And look at the ceiling!” She actually jumps up and down and points to the pitched roof’s exposed beam.
Damn , she’s cute. “I think I may have lost you. You aren’t supposed to be looking at my beam.” I step closer. “At least not the one up there.”
She laughs, but cuts it short, exclaiming, “Is that a Noguchi table?” She walks over to the living room section of the open floor plan. “An original Eames lounge chair?” Running her fingers over the Brazilian rosewood and leather, she breathes, “No way.”
This stirs up the other part of me. The part that isn’t proud, but rather is waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for Jackie to show her true colors and start talking about money and?—
“I think your dining room table cost more than my yearly rent.” She laughs.
There it is.
I try to laugh with her, but her words feel like a punch to the gut and she tilts her head at me when an incoherent sound barks out of my chest.
I find myself rubbing the back of my neck, joking, “That isn’t saying much.”
“True,” she says, still smiling. “And I just love this neighborhood, but the houses usually need a lot of work.”
I want to ask her how she knows all about this stuff, but I’m afraid of the answer.
This girls ticks all the boxes and then some, pulling me into an immediate, all-consuming awareness and need.
Which is scary enough on its own, but the conversation we’re having now is digging up too many ghosts and painful memories.
“I gutted it after I bought it.” I look up at the ceiling and down to the terrazzo tile floor, anywhere but at her. “I had a crew come in for the heavy lifting, but mostly I did it myself.”
“You did? That’s really impressive.” Her eyes focus on me again, and the way they heat as they travel over my body eases some of the tension I’ve been feeling. Well, almost all the tension. A part of me is still just as tense now as it was when I saw Jackie at the bar.
“Yeah, I’m good with my hands,” I say, lifting them up for her to see, distracting her from the semi pushing against my zipper.
I motion her to me with a flick of my fingers.
Eyes still on my hands, a blush spreads up her neck as she takes a step forward.
“Want me to show you how good I can be with my hands?” At her nod, I lay my hands on her shoulders, pushing the leather down, exposing more of that beautiful skin.
She shimmies, shrugging it all the way off, the movement making her breasts sway.
I go cross-eyed for a moment.
“Jackie—”
“No,” she cuts me off, letting her jacket fall to the floor. “Call me darling. I don’t quite feel like Jackie right now.”
“Okay, darling.” But her words confuse me. “Who do you feel like?”
“I feel like the kind of girl you’d actually take home.”
I hear the words, but I’m not sure what she means. I guess it shows on my face, because she instantly starts backtracking.
“Never mind, you can call me Jackie, it’s fine. Forget I said anything.” She straightens her glasses and lifts up on her toes to kiss me, but in that moment my brain finally catches up. And I’m not too happy.
I raise my hands to capture her face, forcing her eyes to mine. “I want to make something perfectly clear.”
“No really, it’s fine. I promise I won’t talk anymore. Just...” She takes a deep breath and I know what she says next costs her. “Just kiss me. Please.”
I can’t help but smile at her sweetness, the vulnerability she’s showing me. But I don’t want her to feel vulnerable. Not with me.
“Jackie. Listen.” Involuntarily, one of my hands drifts down her body, settling at the dip in her waist, my thumb sweeping back and forth across her hip bone.
“I don’t know what kind of person you think I take home.
But whatever you’re picturing, stop. I’ve never brought a girl here before.
” I chuckle at the skeptical look she throws me.
“Seriously.” I lean in and brush my lips lightly over hers.
“So if you’re wondering what kind of girl I bring home, I’ll tell you.
She’s gorgeous. Completely sexy. Which takes into account her wild, long hair and alluring, thick framed glasses.
But what truly makes her the girl I take home is that every time she opens her mouth, it’s like a goddamn revelation. ”
My hands drift up, thumbs grazing the sensitive skin under her breasts. “And that girl is you, Jackie. One hundred percent you.”
When she licks her lips, I have to count to ten to regain control.
I close what little distance remains between us.
“I swear, if I had had a teacher that looked and sounded like you when I was in school, I would have paid a shit ton more attention than I did.” I laugh, which brushes my chest against hers.
“That, and I’d probably’ve injured myself walking around with a raging hard-on all the time. ”
“Really?”
“Mmm-hmm.” I lower my head, skimming the tip of her nose with mine. “Never doubt that you are exactly the kind of girl I’d want to bring home. You’re the girl I just never thought would say yes.”
“Yes,” she whispers, her breath tickling my neck.
We’re so close, almost forehead to forehead.
I’m trying to take my time, make sure she understands…
whatever this is. Hell, maybe then she could explain it to me.
All I know is, this isn’t temporary. This isn’t one night, and this means…
something. Something I can’t name, but it’s there, hovering like the vapors off a burning engine.
This time when she moves to kiss me, I don’t stop her.