Chapter 6
Summer
You’re fucking perfect, Summer.
It’s the last thing I thought about as we drifted off to sleep and the first thing I remember when Waylon unceremoniously jumps on my head to alert me that I’m late for breakfast.
I know it’s just stupid shit guys say after good sex but I can’t help but revel in it. No one has ever said anything quite like that, and I loved hearing it. My body warms just thinking about it and I reach for Waylon, who purrs.
“Shh,” I whisper. “We were up late.”
“It’s okay,” Tate murmurs from beside me. “I’m awake.”
“It’s not even one o’clock yet, it was after seven before we got to sleep.”
“I’m good.” He rolls over and reaches out to put his hand on my hip. “How’d you sleep, despite not sleeping long enough?”
“Very well,” I say, grinning. “An orgasm or three will do that to a girl.”
“I’m happy to oblige. And your bed is indeed very comfortable. I appreciate it more than you know.”
“I appreciate the orgasms more than you know.”
We grin at each other and he leans over, brushing his lips across mine. “I don’t know what you have to do today beyond grocery shopping and baking pies, but how about I take us out to breakfast and then we come back here and I can provide a few more of those orgasms before you start to bake?”
“You don’t have anywhere to be?” I ask curiously.
I figured he would want to meet up with his band today.
“I’m going to see what’s going on but we don’t have to be in Montreal until Tuesday, and it’s kind of nice to not be on the run for a day or two. I love my life—I do—but a little down time is nice too.” He pauses. “Unless you’d rather I left?”
“Oh. No, not at all. I just assumed…” I break off and start to get up, but his fingers tighten around my hip.
“I have to leave by Tuesday,” he says quietly. “But I’ll let you know as soon as I hear something. The guys are probably still asleep, and if there was any news, they would have reached out.”
I glance around. “Except you left your phone downstairs.”
“Shit.” He grimaces. “Well, let me go see if anyone is awake yet.”
He gets up in all his glorious nakedness and my heart beats a little faster as I watch him pad into the bathroom. He comes out a minute later with a towel wrapped around his waist and shakes his head.
“My clothes are still damp. Do you have a dryer?”
“I do,” I say, getting up. “Give me all your stuff and I’ll wash it for you.”
“I can’t go out to eat naked,” he says with a sly grin. “Although maybe food isn’t on your mind right now.”
I flush.
Because I’m definitely more interested in his body than grocery shopping or even breakfast.
“Well, you can’t run around half-naked and not expect a girl to get excited?” I protest, grabbing his clothes off the floor, along with my own. “And don’t you dare get frisky until I put these in the washer.”
I dance out of his reach and his laughter follows me down the hall.
When was the last time I had a guy over? At least a couple of years. I don’t bring guys home. It’s just not my thing. I like my privacy, and up until Mom went into the nursing home, I had to take her comfort into consideration too.
Not that there’s been anyone interesting in my life since college.
But I don’t want to think about him—or any of that. If I only have Tate for today and tomorrow, I’m going to enjoy every second of it.
I throw in his clothes, along with my own, and more from my hamper.
“I have more here,” he says, coming in with his backpack.
“Toss them in.”
“Then can I take you back to bed,” he murmurs, wrapping his arms around me from behind.
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t,” I respond. “Let me feed Waylon first. Then we can go back to bed.”
“Deal.”
* * *
After feeding Waylon, another round of lovemaking that leaves me completely spent, stopping long enough to put the clothes in the dryer, and then going at it two more times in the shower, I’m starving. I’m also far too happy and relaxed to even think about shopping or baking.
“How about we get takeout and just stay home?” Tate whispers as I pull everything out of the dryer.
“We can do that,” I say with a smile. “I might poop out on you early tonight, though.”
“I’m tired too,” he says. “So let’s stay in. I spoke to Angus and they’re talking about renting a van tomorrow and driving up to Montreal. I can go with them or…” He hesitates and I turn, cocking my head.
“Or?”
“I can stay here another day.”
“How will you get to Montreal on Tuesday?” I ask.
He shrugs. “I can rent a car. Or fly. It’s up to you, though. I don’t want to be in the way.”
“You’re not…in the way.” I lift the laundry basket. “It’s nice having you here.”
His eyes meet mine and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. All I know is that he’s looking at me like he wants me. Again. Because five times since early this morning isn’t enough.
Oddly enough, it isn’t enough for me either.
But it’s more than just how good the sex is.
Because he’s so sweet. Thoughtful. Romantic, even.
“If it’s okay with you, I’ll stay until Tuesday?”
“As long as you don’t mind the mundaneness of my life,” I say, carrying the basket into my bedroom and dumping the clothes on my bed. “Tomorrow we’ll have to get up and go to the grocery store. Then I have to come home and bake. I rely on the extra money I make from my pie business.”
“Do you just sell to the diner?”
I shake my head. “Dolly buys about a dozen pies a week and there’s a bakery in town that only buys my chocolate peanut butter pie—and she takes as many as I’ll give her. Sometimes I only manage one. Other weeks it’s three or four.”
“So you bake all of that in your single oven?”
I nod. “Yeah, I’ve been saving up to buy a double oven but it would mean completely renovating the kitchen and I just can’t afford it yet.
In addition to keeping up with the house and all the normal life expenses, I pick up the slack for Mom.
She gets her pension from teaching and a little Social Security, but that all goes to the nursing home.
She has Medicare for her medication, but sometimes I have to help with the copays, so every month’s finances are different.
Which is why I bake and wait tables and occasionally pet or house sit. ”
“You’re a good daughter,” he says, grabbing his boxers out of the pile and putting them on. “What about your dad?”
I snort. “He bailed a long time ago. New family, new life, couldn’t be bothered with me.
Paid child support until I turned eighteen and then disappeared like a thief in the night.
Good riddance to bad rubbish. I mean, I know where he lives—just outside Albany—but he behaves like I never existed.
And that’s fine. My mom was the best.” I pause.
“Fuck. I just referred to her in past tense. Dammit.”
“It’s okay, honey.” He squeezes my arm. “She doesn’t know you anymore, so you’ve already lost part of her. I don’t think she would be upset that you miss the mom she was before she got sick.”
“Thank you for saying that.” I pull in a deep breath and force myself to smile. “So—what are we ordering? There’s a great Thai place that delivers. Also Italian, Chinese, and pizza.”
“I love Thai—sound good?”
“Absolutely. It’s called Tommy Thai. I’m sure you can find it.”
He nods. “Yup. Got it. What do you want?”
We decide what we want to eat, he orders while I finish folding the laundry and then pull on cute pink sleep shorts with a matching camisole on top.
“What the hell?” he demands when I come out of the bathroom.
“What?” I look down worriedly.
“How am I supposed to think about food with you looking like sex on a pink stick?”
I snicker. “I can put on shorts and a regular T-shirt…”
“Nope.” He moves toward me purposefully. “I love what you’re wearing.”
Then he kisses me and I forget all about laundry, food, and everything else.
You’re fucking perfect, Summer.
So is he.