Chapter 14
JAYDEN
“I admire your endurance.”
I smile, eyes closed, a soft, warm woman in my arms. “Is that a hint that you want to go again?”
Stella chokes on a laugh. “Um, no.”
“Because I’m up for it.”
“You are not.” She pets my soft dick.
“Not literally. Not at this exact second. But I could be up for it. You just have to keep doing that.”
“Ha.” She takes her hand away.
“Damn.”
“I have to go see my dog.”
“I know.” I kiss her forehead. “How about we both go and bring Frank along, and take them to the park?”
“Okay. I think Betty has a crush on Frank.”
“I know Frank has a crush on Betty. She’s a foxy little bitch.”
Stella cracks up. “Oh, Frank.”
“Don’t worry. He’s a good guy. He won’t break her heart.”
“If you say so.”
We reluctantly separate and roll out of bed. I offer her the bathroom first and she gathers up her clothes and disappears. I sit on the side of the bed for a moment. I’m a little shook, to be honest. That was pretty amazing banging. Like… wow.
I’m worried about how much I want to do that again. I was joking about it a few minutes ago but, seriously, I don’t ever want to let her go. That’s not supposed to happen.
I just finish getting dressed when Stella emerges from the bathroom, ruffling her hair with her hand. “I borrowed your hairbrush,” she confesses.
“Totally fine.” I kiss her forehead as I pass her to use the bathroom myself. “Do you need anything else?”
“I’m good.”
“Go on downstairs. I’ll be right there.”
I look at myself in the mirror as I wash up. I look the same, considering how earth-shattering that was. Then I shake my head at myself. Earth-shattering. Come on, man. It was fucking. Everything’s fine.
Stella’s sitting on the couch petting Frank. He looks like he’s enjoying it but as soon as he sees me, he jumps down and runs over to me. “Sorry, buddy. That was rude, huh? Locking you out of your bedroom? You just never mind what we were doing in there.”
Stella grins as she stands. “We wouldn’t want to scar him.”
“Hell no. Come on, Frank. Let’s get your leash.”
He goes crazy when he sees the leash and I hook it up. “Can you take him?” I ask Stella. “I’ll bring your bike down.”
“Oh. Sure.”
On the street, I tell her to go on home to get Betty and we’ll meet them at the park. The sun has disappeared and the sky is overcast. “Looks like rain,” I tell Frank as Stella rides away. Everyone talks to their dog when they walk them, right? I know it’s not just me.
Frank is happily sniffing around the enclosure when Stella and Betty arrive.
I watch Stella open the double gate and step inside.
Christ, she’s pretty. She walks toward me and all I can do is stare at her, her caramel-coloured hair blowing back in the breeze, her smile looking suspiciously smug and satisfied.
She pauses to unclip Betty’s leash. Betty immediately races over to Frank and they leap around, try to jump on each other, and touch noses.
“Hi.” Stella stops next to me.
“Hi.” I’m still staring at her. Jesus. I have to get a grip.
“You okay?” She arches an eyebrow.
No. I am not okay. “Hungry.”
“Ah.”
“Would you like to get dinner after this?”
“You bought me lunch.”
“Yeah. So?” I grin.
“Would that be a second date?”
“Sure. If you want it to be.”
“I don’t do many second dates.”
“Really?”
She nods.
“Why not?”
“Once is enough with most guys.”
“Oh. Am I one of those guys?”
She studies me then says, “No.”
I swipe a hand over my forehead. “Whew.”
We move to a bench to sit and watch our dogs. There are a few other pups here but Frank and Betty only have eyes for each other.
“Who looks after Frank when you travel?” Stella asks.
“I have a dogsitter. Dog walker. Their business is just over on Drake.”
“Cool. That’s good to know. If my mom couldn’t look after Betty when I had an out-of-town trip, I could use them.”
“They’re great. Two young guys run it and they love dogs.”
“It’s important to have someone you trust.”
“Yeah, I wouldn’t leave Frank with just anyone.”
A big raindrop lands on my arm.
“Uh oh.” Stella looks up to the sky. “The rain is starting.”
“Should we go?”
“It’s just a few spits. I’m okay.”
That doesn’t last long. Within minutes, it’s pouring.
“Okay!” Stella jumps up. “Time to go! Betty!” She claps her hands. “Betty, come!”
Betty runs over and, luckily, Frank follows.
“Come to my place,” Stella says. “It’s just a block that way.”
I’m going to be allowed to know where she lives. This is a big deal. Hell yeah, I’m not one of those guys she only goes out with once.
We jog through the downpour, splashing through puddles on the sidewalk, and Stella turns and leads me up a short sidewalk and steps to the door of her condo. It’s a townhouse style, with the small patio in front that she mentioned. She unlocks the door and we all push inside out of the rain.
“Hold on there, buddy.” I grip Frank’s leash so he can’t run wild with wet feet. “Do you have a dog towel, by chance?”
“I do.” She reaches into a closet, pulls out a towel and hands it to me.
I sit on the floor to dry Frank’s feet, and then I do Betty’s since I’m down here. “Okay, pups, you’re good.”
“Thanks.”
I slip off my wet runners and leave them on the door mat.
I look around as I walk into the living room.
The dark wood floor shines in the light from the big front windows, even though it’s overcast outside.
It’s not a big room, but it’s light and airy, with pale-blue walls, sheer white curtains on the windows, and a couch and loveseat slipcovered in a soft sand colour.
A big plant sits in a wicker basket near the window, and cushions in various shades of blue and beige line the couch.
“Nice. I feel like if I look out the window, I’ll see the ocean.”
“That is the best thing you could have said to me.” She turns to face me and her hair is soaked and dripping down her athletic top. “I can’t afford a place right on the water… yet… but I love that vibe.”
“You probably want to go change.” I move closer to shift wet hair off her shoulder.
“You’re wet, too. I can put your things in the dryer.”
“And leave me naked?” I widen my eyes.
“Oh no, you figured out my plan.” She gives my chest a little push. “Come on up.”
A dark wood staircase leads to the second floor of the condo where there are two big bedrooms. In one bedroom, I notice several cardboard boxes sitting on the floor and a lot of plants in the window.
She opens closet doors to reveal her washer and dryer. I pull my shirt over my head and hand it to her, then step out of my pants. “These won’t take long. This ripstop fabric dries fast.” I’m in my boxer briefs and socks.
“There’s a robe in that bathroom.” She points, then heads into presumably her bedroom.
I find a big terry robe and put it on. It’s too short, but it does meet around my torso.
“Whose robe is this?” I ask, following her into her bedroom.
She grins. “It’s just an extra for guests.”
“Guests.” I sound grumpy. “Huh.”
“I do have girlfriends who sometimes stay overnight.”
I’m distracted from my sulk by Stella pulling off her long-sleeved shirt, then peeling out of her leggings. She pads over to a dresser and finds a pair of loose sweatpants and a sweatshirt in matching pink.
She throws me a towel and keeps one for herself, using it to towel dry her long hair. I drag the towel over my hair, watching her run a hairbrush through her own.
“Maybe we could just have dinner here?” she says.
“That sounds perfect. We can order in.”
“What do you like?”
“I like anything.” I move closer to her and set my hands on her hips. “Your cheeks are the same colour as your sweats.”
“And your hair looks like you just got out of bed.” She runs a hand through the long strands on top of my head, tousling it even more.
“I did.” I tilt my head and dip down to kiss her. Just a short kiss. Soft. Sweet.
“Pizza?”
“Hmm?” I got distracted again. “Sure.”
We debate our favourite pizza places in the neighbourhood as we go back downstairs. There are many. We finally agree on a Neapolitan pizzeria. After checking out the menu on my phone, I place the order for a couple of pizzas, a salad, and I add on focaccia with balsamic dip.
“It says an hour.” I toss down my phone.
“Something to drink?” she offers. “I have beer, wine, and cranberry juice.”
I grin. “A beer would be great.”
I follow her to the kitchen, which is open to the living room, separated by a small dining table and chairs.
The kitchen is all white, also tiny but functional, with a stone countertop in shades of beige and cream.
She pulls a beer out of the fridge and hands it to me, then pours herself a glass of wine.
“So you just moved in here, right?” I ask.
“Yeah. I haven’t even finished unpacking. I haven’t had time to put up my pictures.” She gestures to a bunch of framed art sitting on the floor against a wall.
“Do you have tools?”
A small divot appears between her eyebrows. “Tools?”
“Hammer, screwdriver, screws, nails…?”
“Oh! Yeah, I do…”
“I’ll help you hang them.”
“Oh you don’t need to do that. I’ll get to them.”
“I’m here.” I shrug. “Why not?”
“Like… now?”
“Sure.”
Still, she hesitates, like she doesn’t want to accept help.
I tilt my head and give her an adamant look.
She walks to a closet, opens the door, and pulls out a hammer, picture hooks, and a tape measure.
“Where do you want these?”
We move the framed art around the condo. It’s mostly photographs but there are a couple of paintings, a moody landscape of ocean and mountains, and a city street alight with cherry blossoms.
I eye the tape measure skeptically. “I can just eyeball it.”
Her eyebrows pop up into her hairline. “Um. No.”
I grin. “We have a conflict. Should we argue about this?”
A hint of a smile brushes over her lips. “No. We’re not going to argue. We’re going to measure.”
“Fine. It’s your place.” I’m unbothered. Between us, we measure, establish the correct height and soon have all the pictures hung where she wants them.
She surveys them. “Thank you! If feels better in here.”
“It feels very relaxed. Comfortable.”
“Thank you. That’s what I want.” She gets our drinks from the kitchen, then curls up on the couch, legs beneath her. “The world is stressful and exhausting. I feel like when I come home, it’s my refuge. Just me and Betty,” she adds as Betty joins her on the couch.
Frank is passed out on the carpet. I nod at him. “I guess he feels comfortable here, too.”
“He’s cute.”
“Is it your job that stresses you out?” I sit on the couch, too, and Betty immediately turns to me to check me out. I give her solid little body a stroke.
“Mostly. I love it but, of course, there’s stress.
I thought it would get less the more successful we are, but no.
The bigger we get, the bigger the problems. When we finally hired an HR person, it took a huge burden off us.
That was another misbelief I had: that we’d assemble a great team of all the people we wanted to work with us and it would stay like that forever.
Instead, it seems like we’re constantly hiring, training, even sometimes firing people.
” She sips her wine. “My family causes some stress, too.”
“Yeah?” I hazard a guess. “Your parents?”
“Yep.” She looks at her glass. “They got divorced about fifteen years ago. My mom hasn’t dealt with it well. She immediately started dating a guy and married him after six months.”
“Yikes.”
“Yeah. That didn’t end well.” For a moment, she stares into her wine, looking a little lost. Something twists in my chest cavity at her forlorn expression.
“She was so afraid of being alone. Still is, actually.” She lifts her gaze and deliberately changes her expression, her jaw firming.
“She just broke up with her most recent boyfriend. I mean, he broke up with her. On their one-year dating anniversary.” She sighs. “She was pretty upset.”
“That’s too bad.” I feel like there’s a lot more she’s not saying.
“She’s now been married four times.”
“Jesus.”
“I know.” Stella shakes her head. “She just won’t see that men don’t help your life, they just make it more work.”
I lift an eyebrow. “That’s your experience?” What kind of men has she been with?
“Well, yeah, it is, actually.”
“I’m sorry.”
She tilts her head and gives me a strange look. “Usually, guys get defensive when I say something like that.”
I chuckle and lift my beer. “I know you weren’t talking about me, so it’s fine. There are lots of garbage guys out there. I saw it with my sisters.”
“Right.”
“Did some guy screw you over?”
She looks like she’s not sure she wants to talk about it. “He didn’t cheat on me, if that’s what you mean. I just got so tired of managing everything in both our lives.”
“Did you live together?” I don’t like thinking of her with another guy, but I’m curious.
“Yeah. For about a year. We were together three years.”
“Whoa. That’s a relationship.”
“Yes. It was.” One corner of her mouth deepens.
“What happened?” I want her to talk to me. To be honest. But maybe it’s too soon.
“I guess my feelings changed. I did everything for us. For him. He couldn’t manage his own finances.
Had no idea how to save money. Ran up credit card debt.
He could cook a few things, but couldn’t follow a recipe.
Couldn’t even sew on a button. I had to remind him to go to his dentist and doctor appointments. ”
“Sounds like a child.”
“That’s basically how I ended up feeling. Like his mother. Which is very unsexy, you know?”
“I get it.”
“So that’s why things ended.”
“Good for you.” I take a gulp of lager. “How long ago did you break up?”
“What day is this…”
My jaw sags.
She laughs. “I’m joking. It was a few years ago.” She pauses. “Have you… been in relationships?”
Well, she was honest with me, so I owe her that in return. “Yeah. I had a girlfriend in high school. Then in Abbotsford the few years I lived there, but it wasn’t really serious and we basically mutually agreed to end things when I moved here.”
“Abbotsford’s not that far away.”
“Yeah. I think it was more a clean way to end things. Since then, I haven’t really met anyone else I wanted to get serious with.”
“And you bugged me about not going on second dates.”
“I did not! I merely wanted to know if I was going to get a second date.”
“I guess we could argue about whether this is really a second date or still the first one.”
“A really long first date.” I give her a hot look. “And we could make it even longer.”