Chapter 6 #2
“Iguanas, huh? What else do you have?”
I tilted my head to the side. “When you’re ready, how about I show you?”
He licked his lips. “All right. I’d like that. It’s a good idea to know what lives next door, I think.”
“‘What Lives Next Door.’ You make it sound like a horror movie.”
“It might be. I wouldn’t know. I only have my imagination to go off of and the sight of being stalked by John Wayne across the field.” He was laughing at that point. “My mom told me I could outrun him, then she smacked me and locked me out of the house.”
“Your mom sounds awesome. She live nearby?”
“She has a condo in Sunnyvale, but like I mentioned, I’m trying to convince her and Aunt Judy, Derek’s mom, to move into the cottage at the front of the property.
They both hate driving in the Bay Area, love to gamble, and deserve to be pampered.
This way they’re close enough for us to spoil them.
” He opened the bedroom door and gestured for me to go ahead of him. “We have arrived.”
The room contained a queen-sized bed, small dresser, nightstand, and a small mass of dark bodies writhing in the corner by the window.
“Awesome. I can totally help you with this.”
“Somehow I didn’t think ‘awesome’ would be your reaction.”
“Normally, it wouldn’t. Finding bugs like this in a house is often a recipe for disaster, but see?
These guys are crickets, which happens to be the food of choice for my chameleons and other reptiles.
I can scoop these guys up, and we can find the source of moisture that drew them here in the first place, unless you plan to open up a cricket supply store in your dream house? ”
“That’d be a no.” He had his arms crossed over his chest and was doing some sort of wiggly, heebie-jeebie dance. “What do you need?”
“Got any to-go containers?”
“Be right back.” He took off at a run for the door and called out “maybe” before disappearing.
He was so damned funny, but then he’d offer up some piece of vulnerability right after saying something riotously hilarious. It kept me on my toes.
I was thoroughly hooked on Francis Liang.
I poked around the pile of crickets and found them feasting on some leaves. “Hey, Francis? Did you have this window open at some point?”
He came trotting back into the room. “My mom slept in here when we first arrived. Maybe she did? I know these windows need new screens. You think that’s what brought them in?”
I laid my palm on the floor. “It’s warm. They like warm environments. They may have come in through the window, but they stayed for the—”
“Radiant floors. Gotcha. I need to make sure I check the thermostats. I guess it got left on. Oh, I didn’t notice that before.” He pointed to a dark spot under the windowsill. “Maybe I need to have someone come seal that up?”
“Probably a good idea.”
He stood bent over next to where I was crouched, and I could see directly down the neckline of his shirt, and he knew it.
We both chuckled knowingly.
“I’ll collect these critters for you and make my creatures very happy.”
“You’ll make Mom happy, too. She’s going to be sleeping in here again. Well, she won’t if I tell her about the critters. Shoot. Maybe I should move her to the other room. Can’t expose her to too much nature or she’ll for sure not move here.”
“That’s cool you two are close.”
“Are you close with your mom?”
“I am,” I said, as I scooped up the crickets. “She was happy to stay at her high-falutin’ retirement villa in Florida, though. I don’t know why she wasn’t tempted to live with my reptiles.”
Francis snickered. “Shocker.” But he was obviously humoring me. I had hope I could lure him over to the cold-blooded side. “Mom seems open to being here. I think it would be fun for her and my aunt, honestly.”
“For sure. With the various casinos and resorts out here, they’ll have plenty to keep themselves occupied. Not to mention, Foggy Basin puts on a bunch of festivals and activities.”
“Yeah, and she and my aunt can help me with some of the retreats that are coming. They also love to cook, but they’re much more efficient than I am. I don’t mind taking hours to make a meal, but Mom doesn’t tolerate my lollygagging.” He smiled wistfully when he talked about his mom.
“And your dad?”
All his wistfulness withered away.
“Not in my life, currently.”
“Francis, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“No,” he said, stepping closer to me. He reached out, looked at his hand, looked at the bugs, and grimaced. “I need to wash up. Here, need help with your new friends?”
“I’ll take pity on you. No thanks, I got this. How about I meet you in the kitchen in a few?”
“Perfect.”
He darted down the stairs and, a few moments later, I heard the sink turn on and him singing along to whatever was playing on the house-wide speaker system. Had to admit that was a pretty damn cool feature.
I gathered up the last of the crickets I could see, then checked the nooks and crannies in the rest of the room to make sure the coast was clear.
I poked around under the sink in the en suite and found some cleaning supplies, so I wiped down the corner of the room and sprayed a hefty amount of Windex in the crease where they may or may not have crawled in.
By the time I made it downstairs with my two containers in tow, Francis was just finishing scrubbing up his arms. I set the bugs outside the slider, closed the door, and joined him at the sink.
He’d set down towels for me on the counter as well.
He hopped up onto the counter and sat watching me as I lathered up my forearms and hands. He reached into a small basket by the sink and pulled out another tube of lip balm, and I nearly whimpered as he spread it over his plush lips, but his uneasy expression concerned me.
“What is it?” I asked as I dried my hands. I set the towel down and stood next to his knee.
“I’d been nervous about having you over, but now that you’re here, I like it.”
I took a chance and ran my hand along the outside of his thigh. “I’m glad,” I said. “Why nervous?”
He sighed. “That’s not a story for today.”
“Understood,” I said, moving closer, standing between his open knees and gazing into his eyes. “Tell me or don’t, whatever you want. But I do have another question.”
He cocked his head to the side and rested his hands hesitantly on my shoulders. “What’s that?”
I reached up and picked a piece of paint out of his hair and showed him. “What else have you been up to today?”
He glanced at my finger then ran his own hands through his hair with a groan. “Oh, I am a disaster! It’s not done. I usually don’t like showing my work until it’s done, but you could get a pass, I suppose.”
He slid forward as if to hop down, but I didn’t move.
I loved looking up at him, and he was downright delectable in his stretched-out t-shirt that showed more of his golden skin than I’d seen up to this point. I slowly ran my fingers along his sides and around his back, breathing in another sweet smell.
“What do you use on your lips?”
“Oh, this? It’s Toasted Marshmallow. Like?”
“Mmm, and the lemon cake one from the other day.”
I leaned closer and inhaled with a sigh, but I didn’t kiss him. I didn’t want to push.
“I’m glad you texted me,” I finally said. “I was having trouble waiting until tomorrow to see you.”
His soft smile was back. He ran his nails up and down the nape of my neck and my scalp. “I’m glad I wasn’t the only one.”
“I want to respect your boundaries, but I just love being around you.”
“Say less.”
I chuckled, but a sense of urgency quieted my voice, made me approach with caution but intensity. “Is this okay?” I ran my fingers up his naked back under the short t-shirt, and he shivered. His head fell back, and I wanted at his throat. “Francis?”
“Yes,” he moaned, and I took that as an answer and consent.
I ran my nose along his throat and kissed under his jaw.
I’d already learned that he had the most sensitive skin there.
I wanted to taste him for hours. I sucked gently, nibbling with my lips and teeth, careful not to leave marks, and he gripped my shoulders tighter.
He hooked his ankles around my waist and moaned as he tried to get closer.
“I swear,” I said, moving to his earlobe. “I love talking with you, but God, Francis—”
“Your mouth is good at other things. So good.”
Things were escalating fast, and any second I was going to start removing clothes.
Two things happened to slow our progress. Francis’s phone buzzed with an incoming text, and then so did mine.
He laughed at his message.
I did not.