Chapter Seven
Lila
I didn’t want to spend my evening, my time with Dan, talking about her. I hated that I was even thinking about her, especially considering what we’d just done in my bed.
Pleasure still thrummed through my body, pulsing between my legs, but irritation crept in. Coney was a small town with limited restaurant choices, offering too many chances she might intrude on a night we’d finally carved out after two weeks of Dan being on second shift.
I pressed my lips to his chest, inhaling the warmth of his skin mingled with a hint of his soap from his morning shower. He tightened his arm about me. I glanced upward to find his face relaxed, eyes closed. “What if we stayed in?”
He played with the ends of my hair, not opening his eyes. “You want to?”
“Yes.” I shifted to my belly and propped on my elbows. “We can order in, watch a movie . . .”
“I’m game.” He caressed the back of my head, fingers rubbing my scalp, and I wanted to purr. The corner of his mouth hitched like he knew. More and more, he grew confident with me, and I liked that. “Care if I jump in your shower?”
“No.” I stretched against him, pointing my toes toward the end of the bed.
“You could join me.”
“I’ll order pizza for us and get in after.
” I reached up to kiss him, softening the rejection.
I wanted his scent on me a little longer.
That was new for me. With everyone else I’d dated or hooked up with, I wanted to freshen up immediately.
Something about him, the way I was with him, was different.
“Okay.” He stole another kiss, then rolled out of bed. Still propped on my elbows, I watched him stroll into the bathroom, muscles flexing in his thighs and ass, and hugged the lingering sense of pleasure close, the mosquito that was Nicole swatted away for now.
Somewhere on the floor, his phone vibrated.
Swinging my legs over the side of the mattress, I rose and tugged on his undershirt, wrapping the smell of his day about me – his soap, a hint of male that was just him, a slight tinge of disinfecting air freshener from his patrol car.
I’d left my phone on the kitchen counter with my purse, and I padded through to grab it, hardwoods cool under my feet.
In the delivery app, I started an order from Nick’s. Yes, he’d had it for lunch, but that had been pasta. Tonight would be a pizza with everything–
My ring tone cut through the air, Samantha’s name on the screen. Smiling, I tapped to answer her video call. “Hi!”
“Hey, girly.” My college roommate, Delta Rho sister, and friend grinned at me. With her dark hair piled on her head, she lounged on her couch. “What are you doing?”
“Ordering a pizza.” With her pic in the corner of my screen, I selected toppings in the app. “Dan’s in the shower. We’re going to have a night in and watch a movie.”
“Very domestic.” Lips pursed in a smirk, Samantha tapped her jaw. “You have a little beard burn right there. And he’s in the shower? I know what you’ve been up to. Teaching him a thing or two.”
I swallowed a sigh. Probably, I shouldn’t have shared about Dan’s lack of bedroom experience during a wine-fueled gabfest, but Samantha and I swapped most every detail of our lives, a throwback to our time together at UGA. “Grow up.”
She snorted, lifting her wineglass and swirling the ruby liquid in punctuation. “Listen, I’m a little jealous. You’ve got raw material there. You can train him however you want, teach him to be great in bed. Think of it as community service so he’ll know what to do with the next woman in his life.”
Frowning, I squinted at our order. That idea – the next woman in his life – stuck in my throat like a spiky lump.
I mean, logically, there would be a next woman because my imaginings of a possible future with him, or any man, were hazy.
These relationships, the college ones and the right-after-college ones, were for practice.
“Can we not talk about his next woman?” I tapped to order then maximized Samantha’s window so she filled my screen. “Right now, I’m his woman.”
She quirked a brow. “It’s not like you’re going to marry the guy.”
I darted a look toward the doorway. Beyond my living room, the shower still ran. Propping the refrigerator open with my hip, I grabbed a romaine heart and a chunk of parmesan. “I might.”
“Be serious.” Samantha rolled her eyes and lifted her wine for a long swallow. “I know you. This guy is nothing at all like the man you’ll marry.”
“What are you talking about?” Slapping the hapless head of lettuce on my cutting board, I took a knife to the romaine, chopping aggressively. “You don’t know him.”
“You do? After six months? Lila Elizabeth.” Samantha lifted a handful of popcorn to her mouth. “You’ll marry someone like your dad. Ambitious, grounded, financially secure.”
“Dad is grounded, stable and committed. And Dan is all of those things. He’s just . . .” I lifted a shoulder in a tense shrug. “Inexperienced.”
“You mean not grown up yet.”
“I mean not experienced.” A testy note entered my voice.
Dan was plenty grown up, but I wasn’t going to argue the point with Samantha, who’d never spent any real time with him.
She’d been with me that night at the bar when I first met him, but I hadn’t taken him to meet my parents or my friends from Atlanta so she didn’t know him.
“What kind of man has never had a girlfriend before?” Samantha waved an airy hand before digging up another palmful of popcorn. “The kind who’ll wonder if the grass is greener and go exploring.”
“He’s not like that.” Defensiveness sharpened my tone. Beyond my living room, the shower cut off, the drawer where I’d tucked Dan’s small amount of clean laundry closing with a soft thud. “Listen, I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Without giving her a chance to reply, I stabbed a finger on the end button. Irritation simmered under my skin, not just at Samantha, but because now doubt poked at me and I didn’t want to wonder about him.
I simply wanted to live in the moment with him.
Steady footsteps heralded his arrival before he landed a slight swat on my ass. “Your turn.”
Dropping the knife next to the mangled romaine, I lifted my face to kiss him, holding his jaw in my hands, burying my uncertainty in the physical tug between us. I might marry him. I could. But I was still young and starting my career. I didn’t have to know where we were headed today.
And he wasn’t thinking forever. I was his first girlfriend. Of course he’d need time to figure out if I was the one.
Maybe even eventually see other people before he decided on me.
I knew at least one who would volunteer.
The thought washed a fresh wave of annoyance through me, and I shoved it down. He didn’t want her. Didn’t even think of her like that.
“Is this a salad or chiffonade?” He lifted a small shred of romaine, and I grimaced.
“I just chopped it up.”
“I can see that.” Affection curving his bottom lip, he nudged me toward the door. “Grab your shower. I’ll rustle up a dressing for this.”
“You’re the best.” Grateful to leave the salad to him – I simply had to face the fact he was better in the kitchen than I was – I kissed his jaw and escaped.
Hot water and being clean helped immensely, and I emerged from the spray more relaxed. A hint of spicy tomato and melted cheese drifted into my bedroom along with Dan’s low voice at the front door.
Pulling on leggings and a tank, I glared at the constant buzzing from his phone, still in his uniform pocket. “Dan. Your phone is going crazy.”
“Ptobably that group chat I’m in.” The muffled quality of his reply meant he’d walked to the kitchen. “Bring it in here.”
I tugged it free, the screen lighting up with a flood of notifications from a group he’d named Great Husbands.
And Nicole.
Mouth tight, I stalked to the kitchen. “Your wannabe girlfriend is texting you.”
With a stern look, he held out his hand. I smacked the device into his palm. Ignoring my attitude, he opened the text thread and handed it to me.
Have I told you how much I appreciate you?!!
You’re the best!!!
Hope you had a good day!
Anger rocketed up my nape to tighten my scalp. This heifer.
She’d punctuated the texts with a selfie, camera tilted to capture a glimpse of her cleavage.
I scrolled. She chatted him up like this every evening after his terse all clear text.
All clear
All clear
All clear
That was it. No likes, no memes, no comments from him at all.
I held the device aloft. “This doesn’t bother you?”
“Not my problem if she can’t take a hint.” He shrugged. “Or a direct message that we’re not anything.”
I watched him flip the pizza box open. “It bothers me.”
He stilled, then straightened and plucked the phone out of my hand. He tapped on the screen and turned the device so I could see his blocked list. “Done.”
My irritation remained, fueled by Nicole’s pushy interest and Samantha’s dismissive mockery. I couldn’t be mad at him because he hadn’t entertained her beyond his job and doing what neighbors did.
I was just . . . itchy.
“Great husbands?” I flicked a finger at his phone.
He turned red. Not a flush on his cheekbones, like when we first started talking about sex or when he had a new idea we could try, but a flare of dull crimson from his collar up his neck to his hairline.
“It’s, um . . . Chuck and his brothers and a couple of other local guys. I don’t talk in it.” His voice lowered, a hint of embarrassment adding a rough edge. “I just lurk.”
“Why?” I gave a half-shake of my head.
Pizza forgotten, he scuffed the back of his neck. “Um, well, they’re married and good at it and I have to learn. Like I didn’t learn from my father and I have to know what to do . . . eventually.”
It’s not like you’re going to marry the guy.
“So it’s like a master class?”
“Well, no, it’s . . . Chuck’s older brother got married a few months back. Sometimes he has questions, and . . . Chuck and them have all been married a hot minute. I asked him to add me. Figured I’d learn along with Tick.”
“Oh.” Obviously, he had plans to marry someone someday. And the idea he was actively trying to learn how to be a good husband? Well, that was adorable and terrifying.
I tried to picture his wife, what kind of woman he might end up with. My brain refused to engage with that. I didn’t see myself there – again, any future thoughts were hazy – but I couldn’t see him with any other woman, either.
Not EmmaLee. They were simply good friends and gaming buddies
Definitely not Nicole.
But somebody. A nice local girl who would appreciate him and be everything he deserved–
“What did you want to watch tonight?” His deep voice snatched me from the whorl of my confused thoughts.
I blinked at him, tall and steady, hair still a little damp, expression open and relaxed. I shook my head. “Um, I don’t care. You pick.”
With a soft snort, he piled a couple of slices of pizza on a plate and passed it to me. “Right, then you’ll hate it and pick it apart. What about that show you were talking about, the one with the baseball players?”
“That’s fine.” I held the plate with both hands and swallowed, watching his forearms flex while he got his own pizza. I added a small mound of salad and swallowed, a sudden lump in my throat, my appetite gone.
With his arm, he nudged me toward the living room. “Go get comfortable and start the show. I’ll bring you something to drink.”
Clutching my plate, I obeyed, glancing back over my shoulder. Balancing his plate on one hand, he snagged a pair of water bottles from the refrigerator.
He absolutely was going to be a great husband.
The realization lodged a knot in my stomach. Pizza and a movie sounded great in theory, an idea that meant I didn’t have to deal with Nicole.
Didn’t have to think past tonight.
Which was good, because right now I didn’t want to think about other nights when he might belong to someone else.