15. Evan
Sittingon the couch next to Frannie felt better than coming home after being away for years. While she’d been changing into her pajamas—and discovering Magic Mick’s untimely demise—I’d scooted Pete the Dog off the couch and popped enough popcorn to feed an entire movie theater full of folks.
Now a cheesy rom-com played out on the screen in front of us. She’d fallen asleep before the opening credits had finished scrolling across the screen, and I’d spent the past forty-five minutes staring at her instead of the movie.
Getting to be this close to her without having to be careful of my every move was a rare treat. Usually, I had to hold myself in check. I didn’t want to give my feelings away by holding her in a hug too long or accidentally reaching for her hand. Now, with her head resting on my shoulder and the scent of her shampoo filling my nose, I was in heaven.
She had to have seen the ripped box and ruined rubber when she’d gone into the bedroom, though she hadn’t given me any indication there was something wrong when she came back out. Hopefully, my plan had worked, and she’d be blissfully unaware of the part I’d played in her losing her toy.
I ran my fingers over the hair that had fallen out of the knot she’d piled on top of her head. Our future could be full of moments like this once I told her how I felt. That also assumed, of course, that she’d feel the same way about me. I knew Frannie was actively looking for a husband. I could strangle her dad for putting pressure on her. Not only had she taken care of her mom before she passed, but she’d also become the primary caregiver for her dad. True, he lived in a facility where they handled his day-to-day needs, but Frannie was his person. She was the one he called when he needed emotional support. I’d seen the toll it had taken on her, and I refused to be another problem she needed to solve.
She shifted closer, burrowing into the space between my arm and my side. A contented sigh escaped her lips, and she relaxed against me. I’d give anything for more moments like this.
Pete the Dog scratched at the back door. I’d let him out an hour ago when I made the popcorn. There was no reason he should need to go out again so soon. I ignored him, focusing on the way the beaver quilt over Frannie’s chest rose and fell with each breath.
The dog let out a low whine and scratched again. If I didn’t want him to wake Frannie up, I needed to go let him out. Being careful not to wake her, I slid out from under her and eased her upper body down onto the couch. She pulled the quilt tighter, but didn’t open her eyes.
She needed to sleep. Having to pack up everything she owned while still working the day job and checking in with her dad had been stressful. Now that she was with me, I’d try to keep her life as stress-free as possible. Frannie wasn’t the kind of woman who needed a man to take care of her, but if she’d let me, I wanted to do what I could to make her life easier. Starting with letting the damn dog out again.
When I came back to the family room, she hadn’t moved. I didn’t want to risk waking her, so I eased her feet up and sat down on the other end of the couch. Didn’t matter what part of her I was touching, I just craved the connection. With her feet in my lap, I focused on the movie. Some chump was trying to convince the love of his life to give him another chance.
I’d just gotten comfortable when Pete the Dog decided he’d rather snuggle with us than resume his position on the hardwood floor. With no warning, he jumped on top of Frannie and turned in a circle.
I reached for him at the same time her eyelids flew open. “Get down, beast.”
“What’s going on?” Her eyes were wild, like she’d been pulled from a deep, peaceful sleep. “Where’s the dog? He chewed up my vibrator. He shouldn’t be allowed to sit on the couch.”
“He what?”
She couldn’t be fully awake. Not if she was talking about her vibrator.
Her eyes widened even more, and a scarlet flush spread up her neck and over her entire face. “Nothing. I must have been having a weird dream.”
“A dream where the dog ate your vibrator?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes and pulled the quilt up under her nose. “So weird, right?”
I could have let the conversation go, but I’d been curious about the damn thing since I found it. “Do you even own a vibrator?”
“What kind of question is that, Evan?” The scarlet color changed to a deep red.
“I was just wondering. You’re the one who brought it up.”
“Because of a weird dream,” she insisted.
“Yeah, well, guys wonder about stuff like that. I figured with you being my best friend and all, you’d be a safe person to talk to about it.” I wasn’t lying. Guys did talk about that shit. I just hadn’t had a conversation with another guy about vibrators since shortly after I enlisted in the Army. The exception being my talk with Miller earlier tonight, but that didn’t count.
“What do guys wonder?” She kept her gaze averted like she was afraid to look at me.
“We don’t have to talk about it if it’s going to bother you.” With Pete the Dog back on the floor where he belonged, I lifted Frannie’s feet again and sat back down.
“It’s not going to bother me. We’re both adults, aren’t we? If you can’t talk to your best friend about sex stuff, who are you supposed to talk to, right?”
“Right. You know, you can ask me questions too if you want. About what guys think and stuff.”
“Sounds like a fair trade.” She lowered the quilt but still wouldn’t meet my eyes. “What do you want to know about vibrators then?”
Frannie and I used to joke about stuff all the time back in high school. No topic was off limits, and I’d tease her until her cheeks were as red as the Honeycrisp apples that grew on the trees in my parents’ backyard. But since I’d been home from overseas, our conversations hadn’t strayed beyond the friend zone.
“Well, one of the questions my friends and I used to think about was if girls preferred sex with a real guy over a toy.” I leaned into the cushion, my hands still resting on top of the quilt covering her feet and waited.
“I guess it depends.”
That was a fairly disappointing answer. I didn’t really care about other girls. I was only interested in Frannie’s answers. “What about for you?”
“You want to know if I prefer sex with a real guy over getting off on a vibrator?”
“Sure. That seems like a good icebreaker question,” I joked. The odds of her giving me a straight answer were zero to none. She could talk her way out of any situation.
“Well, it’s different. I wouldn’t have sex with someone I didn’t care about, so sex with a guy is all about the connection. The benefit to getting down with a toy is knowing it’s a sure thing.”
Geez. I’d expected her to give me an answer that didn’t reveal any personal information. Hearing she’d never have casual sex didn’t surprise me at all, but the sure thing comment did. “Does that mean you don’t always get there when you have sex with a guy?”
I was pushing limits that I’d already tested. Hopefully, she wouldn’t blow me off.
“Most women don’t get there every single time.”
Talking about sex with Frannie had every part of me engaged. Seriously, like every single part. Not only did I need to be careful about not pushing her too far, I also needed to make sure I could handle hearing about her experience with other guys. I’d never been super jealous, but I’d also never had a real shot at Frannie. My spidey senses warned me to proceed with caution.
“How often do most women get there, would you say? With a real guy.”
Frannie let out a frustrated sigh. “I don’t know. Half the time? Maybe more, maybe less? Some women don’t get there at all.”
“Well, they must not be very selective about who they’re having sex with then. I’d never finish without making sure my partner was completely satisfied.” Some guys were real douchecanoes. I’d never had complaints about my escapades in the bedroom… or the truck bed… or any of the other places I might have sown my wild oats.
“You probably wouldn’t even know.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Her brows lifted. “Maybe they fake it.”
“No way. A guy can tell when it’s real and when it’s not.”
“That’s what all men think.” Frannie shook her head and sat up. “I promise you, though, women can be pretty convincing. Especially when a guy has that same attitude and won’t give up until he knows she’s done. Do you have any idea what it’s like to lie there knowing no matter how much effort he puts in, there’s no way you’re going to be able to… you know. I’d rather fake it and get to the good part.”
“What’s the good part?” I had my own ideas about what constituted the good part for me, but I wanted to hear what she said. Because based on what she’d been saying, the good part for Frannie didn’t have anything to do with sex.
“The cuddling after.” Her eyes met mine for a fraction of a second before she looked away. “That’s always been the best part for me.”
“Can I get a little clarification about something you said?” Or maybe it was more about something she didn’t quite say.
“What?” She’d pushed the blanket back and looked like her tolerance for our topic of conversation had just about expired.
“Have you ever gotten there during sex, Frannigan?” I couldn’t believe I had the balls to ask the question out loud, but I was desperate to know the answer.
“Maybe I haven’t found the right guy yet.” She shrugged, her way of downplaying the fact she’d just admitted she’d never been able to have an orgasm with a guy. “I’m going to bed. Are you staying up for a while or do you want me to let Pete the Dog out again before I turn in?”
She stood and looked down at me, her hair falling out of her bun, her cheeks still flushed from our conversation. She’d never looked more beautiful to me. Not even the fugly pajama bottoms mattered. I wanted to take her hand and ask her to give me a chance. To tell her that I was the right guy. That she didn’t have to look any longer. All she needed to do was let me in.
I even got to my feet, balancing on the edge of telling her the truth. The slightest encouragement could have made me risk everything so I could unburden myself from the secret I’d been carrying around for years.
Then I put my weight on my bad leg. Pain shot down the back of my calf and into my foot. I sucked in a breath, trying to keep from showing it on my face.
“Are you okay?” Frannie reached for my arm. “Is your leg bothering you?”
“I’m fine.” I gritted my teeth as I pulled her into a hug. “You get to bed. I’ll be up for a while and will take care of the dog.”
“Goodnight, Evan.” She tilted her head back and looked up at me. “Thanks for letting me move in for a while. I really appreciate it.”
“That’s what friends are for, right?”
Nodding, she let her arms fall to her sides and turned away. “Best friends. That’s what best friends are for.”