9. Raven
RAVEN
Isit on the bench as my leg bounces. The moms walk up as their kids scatter on the playground. Lucy and Summer sit on either side of me as Bella stands in front of me. It’s a beautiful day, and the park is packed with kids trying to soak in the September sunshine before the season turns cold.
“Why’d you call this meeting of the moms, Raven?” Bella asks. “You finally ready to talk about a certain firefighter chief?”
“Levi, don’t climb on that!” Lucy yells to her youngest before turning to me. “I miss playdates at your house. It was easier to contain them there. Sorry if that makes me an asshole.”
“It doesn’t make you an asshole. It was nice knowing they were in a place they couldn’t easily escape from.”
“That’s why I brought Isaac. He can help corral them so we can chat,” Bella says. Isaac is her teenage son, the oldest in our group of kids.
“How are renovations going on the new place?” Summer asks. “Or should I say the old place? New to you? Sorry, pregnancy brain has me scattered.”
“I flashed him,” I blurt, ignoring her question.
Bella claps with glee.
“You what?” Summer asks.
“You can’t just drop that you showed him your party tit and not expect a million follow-up questions,” Bella says.
“That was not what I was expecting you to say,” says Lucy.
“You know I don’t do small talk, so I skipped straight to the point.”
“Oh my God, Raven made a nipple joke. I can’t… I can’t breathe…” Bella wheezes between laughs.
I cross my arms, squinting at her. “What are you talking about?”
“Straight to the point! Did he see one point or two? Were your nipples pointy, or were they turtling in?”
“I hate that I know exactly what you’re talking about,” Summer says, shaking her head.
“Ugh, not the takeaway here, Bella. The state of my nipples isn’t the point. And if you must know, they were covered in crackers.”
Lucy lifts an eyebrow in question. “On purpose?”
“No, not on purpose. I’m on a deadline—”
“A deadline… for the paper?” Summer asks.
I examine her face. Why is she asking me that? “Yeah, for the paper,” I lie. “Anyway, I was in gremlin mode when he showed up. I don’t even remember agreeing to let him help with the house.”
They all look at each other conspiratorially. “Am I missing something?”
“Levi, don’t put that in your mouth!” Lucy yells across the playground.
Summer clears her throat. “We may have told RJ to tell Sawyer that he could help.”
Lucy nods. “You were so stressed out, and we know you’ve been working so hard at the paper.”
As much as I want to lecture them, I know they have my best interests at heart, but I can’t help but think there’s more going on here. I just haven’t figured out what it is.
Bella bounces on the balls of her feet. “Can we get back to the pointy tit? I believe you were telling us about how you hang Cheez-Its off your nipples?”
“Bella, keep your voice down,” Summer scolds.
She waves a hand. “No one is paying attention to us with all these kids running around screaming.”
I glare at her. “I never mentioned it was a Cheez-It.”
Bella throws her head back in laughter. “I figured it was either that or a Goldfish since that’s all Jonah will eat.”
“It was both, actually.”
“Was Lefty the Goldfish?” Bella asks as everyone breaks into a fit of giggles.
“My breasts don’t have ridiculous nicknames like yours, and I’m not dignifying that with a response.”
“LEVI! Put that away!” Lucy scampers off the bench, chasing Levi, who is now running from her with his pants around his ankles.
I chuckle as she carts him off to the bathroom.
I’ve been in the same situation with Jonah.
He hates using public restrooms since the toilets flush too loudly.
I’ve been in too many situations with him where a toilet with an overly sensitive automatic sensor has gone off unexpectedly.
One time he was still peeing and freaked out, letting go of his penis as he clapped his hands to his ears.
He turned to look up at me, and since he was no longer in control of his aim, he ended up peeing all over my skirt.
I now carry a change of clothes for both of us everywhere we go.
And Post-its to cover the toilet sensors until we’re ready to flush.
Bella takes Lucy’s seat next to me. “One day we will be able to have a conversation without interruptions.”
“That’s what girls’ trips are for,” Summer says.
Bella turns to me as I stare out onto the playground, tracking Jonah. “So about the flashing. What were you thinking? That doesn’t sound very logical of you.”
“He was staring at my cleavage like it was a distraction. So I removed the distraction.”
“Only you would look at it that way. I retract my earlier statement. That’s definitely some Raven logic if I’ve ever heard it.”
“Did it work?” Summer asks.
Bella laughs, and I look at her. “What’s so funny?”
“You have no idea what you just did. That man is obsessed with you, and you think flashing him will make him think about your boobs less?” Bella gives me an “are you serious” look.
“I assumed he was staring at them because he wanted to know what they looked like. Now he knows, and we can move on.”
They laugh as I frown.
“It’s worse once they know,” Bella says, shaking her head.
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“When they don’t know what they look like, they can picture anything they want. Romanticize it or pretend they’re ugly if they need to stop thinking about them. Once they know, though, that’s all they picture.”
Summer nods. “I know you don’t want to hear this since it’s your brother, but it’s true. When RJ first showed up at the beach house, he accidentally walked in on me topless and stuck in my swimsuit. He later told me he couldn’t get the image out of his head.”
“So he’s going to picture my boobs covered in crackers for the rest of his life? Great.”
“This is fixable. We can help.”
Bella bounces in her seat. “Ooh, are we talking makeovers? Avery’s gotten into these makeup tutorials, and I have so many things I want to try on you.”
I groan. “We’re not doing makeovers. I want to get through this renovation, get him out of my house, and get on with my life.”
“Are you sure about that?” Bella asks knowingly.
“No. I’m not sure about anything anymore since he showed up on my porch.”
They squeal beside me.
“But I don’t have time for this. I have—”
“Deadlines,” Summer finishes for me. “We know.”
“Why are you fighting this? I think he would be good for you. Balance out your dark energy with a little light. You and the kids could use a little light in your lives after the past couple years. And I’ve never seen you date anyone.”
“I was married for most of the time you knew me. And then I was grieving after.”
“True, but I think you deserve someone who wants to wine and dine you and then fu—” Her eyes dart to Summer, and they have a silent conversation. “Someone who wants to bang you against a wall. You deserve it all.”
“I agree with Bella. You deserve to be loved like that. And humped like that,” Summer says as Bella squeals, shimmying her shoulders as Summer groans. “I take it back. Please don’t, Bella.”
“Don’t what?” I ask, looking between them.
“I know exactly what you need to do.” Bella pauses. It’s likely for dramatic effect, but I get annoyed the longer she hesitates. Summer shakes her head in frustration.
Lucy hustles back over. “Sorry about that. I swear that kid will pee on anything anywhere.”
“You need to hump the hot firefighter!” Bella squeals in delight. Lucy giggles while Summer looks around to make sure no one heard.
“He’s more than a firefighter. He’s the fire chief,” I correct.
“Yeah, but hump the hot fire chief doesn’t have the same ring to it.”
“Bella, you’re ridiculous.”
“But you love me.”
“What on earth did I miss while dealing with the peeing bandit?” Lucy asks.
“Raven flashed her party tits at the chief, she had a cracker on her nipple, I told her to hump him,” Bella says.
It’s an effort not to roll my eyes. “There’s more. He played a prank on me.”
“That has RJ written all over it.” Summer narrows her eyes.
“Yup. It’s one RJ tried to pull on me when we were kids. It didn’t work for him then, and it didn’t work for Sawyer now.”
“What are you gonna do?”
“I’m going to fight fire with fire.”
——————
When Sawyer walks in on Monday, I’m ready for him. The kids are in school. I’ve turned the thermostat up, making the upstairs a sweltering hot box in the unrelenting September sun.
“What are you working on today?” My voice is even-keeled, giving nothing away.
“I want to get started on the bathroom demo.”
“But you haven’t finished the flooring down here.”
“There’s a method to my madness.”
“Is there? Because it looks like I gave a moron a cookie.”
He blinks several times, and I realize he’s not following my logic. “The book When You Give a Mouse a Cookie. Once he gets a cookie, he needs a glass of milk, then he goes down this endless path of other tasks before he finishes the cookie.”
“Are you following me home? Because that sounds like my life.”
“Please tell me you’re going to finish all of these tasks.”
“Oh, I’ll finish. I’m just trying to get all the loud parts done while Jonah’s at school, so it doesn’t trigger another meltdown.”
Something catches in my chest at his words. “Oh.”
“You want to help? Tearing out a wall is a great way to get out pent-up aggression.”
“I can assure you that my aggression isn’t pent-up.”
“Suit yourself.”
“I have a work deadline anyway.”
“Cool.”
“Make sure all your tools go back to their homes when you’re done.”
“Their homes?”
“Put them up so Jonah doesn’t get into them.”
“Got it.”
“That reminds me, it’s pretty hot up there today.” I hand him one of the water bottles on my desk, and he looks at it warily. “For fuck’s sake.” Snatching it from him, I open it and take a big swig before handing it back to him. “Satisfied?”
“Can you blame me?” He smiles as he climbs the steps.
I settle into my chair, but it’s hard to concentrate with all the racket Sawyer is making.
After an hour, I make him a glass of lemonade.
When I walk into the room, my eyes widen, and I grab the doorframe for support.
Sawyer is shirtless, dripping in sweat as he swings a big hammer into the drywall.
Note to self: Learn more about tools if you ever plan to write a construction worker MMC.
Several minutes go by as I watch Sawyer work.
Each time he swings, a ripple courses through his body.
He’s solidly built, with strong arms and a thick chest, but the part I can’t look away from is his stomach.
I write about ripped men all day, and I could describe six-pack abs in great detail, every line, ridge, and divot.
But Sawyer looks nothing like the men in my books.
His stomach is round and soft, hanging slightly over his belt, and I’m struck with the urge to touch it.
There’s something distinctly masculine about the way he looks.
It’s obvious he works out, yet it’s clear his focus is on building the muscles that matter, the ones that he probably uses on a daily basis as a first responder.
A bead of condensation runs down the glass, spilling onto my finger, and I take a step into the room. The movement gets his attention, and he startles, setting down his hammer-thing as he runs his hands over his stomach.
“Thought you might be hot up here and need cooling off.” I hand him the lemonade.
“Thanks.” He brings the glass to his lips, taking a giant sip.
My eyes fixate on his throat as he swallows. Why is that turning me on? I use this line in my books, but I’ve never found it attractive until now.
I point to his bare chest. “Is this a tit-for-tat situation? I showed you mine, now you’re showing me yours?”
He laughs, smoothing a hand down his chest. “It wasn’t my intention. I don’t hide snacks in mine.”
My eyes drift down to his middle and the slight stretch marks around his belly button. He shifts uncomfortably, holding his shirt in front of his stomach. “You don’t have to say it. I don’t have the washboard abs like the men in your books.”
“My books?” Does he know I write romance books?
“Yeah, I saw you had some on your shelf in your office.”
I rack my brain for what books he could be referring to.
I’m careful not to display any of my books since not even my friends know that I write romance, and I don’t want them finding them when they come over for playdates.
In fact, I’ve done such a good job throwing them off my trail that they think I hate romance books, so I don’t even have any out.
He must be making assumptions about whatever he saw on my shelf.
I want to get mad about that, but he’s not entirely wrong.
Sawyer clears his throat, and I realize I’ve been staring at his belly while my thoughts drifted. Unsure of what else to say since I’m not about to share that thought spiral, I blurt out, “I like your stomach.”
“You do?” I don’t miss the surprise in his voice.
“Yeah. There’s something innately masculine about a man who likes to eat, who’s confident in his skin and mature enough to know that life is about balance.
Ripped abs are nice to look at, but most of those guys are way too concerned about macros and impressing each other.
And if they’re worried about all that, there’s usually not a lot of space left in their brain to think about your needs. ”
He runs a hand up and down his stomach, and my eyes track the movement. “So this does it for you, huh?”
I shrug. “I mean, I don’t find it unappealing.”
“I can’t stop thinking about your perfect fucking nipples,” Sawyer says without missing a beat.
My throat goes dry. It feels like various parts of my body malfunction when I’m near him. Why is he having this effect on me?
He takes a step toward me, his eyes flicking down to my chest. The air in the room is heavy as I struggle to inhale.
His hand clenches at his side. Is he going to touch me?
Do I want him to? He leans in, placing a hand on the wall behind me, his big naked chest inches away from me, still glistening with sweat.
His voice is husky when he speaks. “Do you have any deli meat or crackers hidden in your bra today? It’s nearly lunch, and I’m hungry. ”
“I’m not hiding a fucking Lunchable in my bra, you nitwit.”
“How would I know that? You had crackers in there yesterday.” His impossibly blue eyes lock with mine as a smile teases his lips. “And I think I prefer moron to nitwit if we’re talking pet names.”
A puff of breath escapes me as I scramble out from under him, not feeling the least bit sorry for what I have planned. “Bring that glass with you when you come down for lunch.”
“Are we having cheese and crackers?” He wiggles his eyebrows.
I turn down the hall, calling over my shoulder, “You wish.”
I swear I hear him mutter, “I really fucking do.”