Chapter 17 – Lee
It was harder to look cool lounging on my couch in my letter jacket and a backwards baseball cap than I remembered.
Waiting for Violet to get home was agony.
I’d done my duty, posting selfies in my best senior-portrait-worthy poses beneath the second post. The jacket didn’t quite fit anymore.
When I was seventeen, it hung on my lanky frame.
Then, I’d felt the weight of my parents’ expectations.
The town’s. Now? I was eager to see if my photos had earned me my laptop back.
If Vi was in a forgiving mood, I’d be working again tomorrow.
Not meeting Vi at the front door when I heard her unlock it took all my restraint.
Maneuvering with my foot in the boot was still a pain.
My ankle was swollen and tender after my earlier errands with Drew.
My lack of mobility was frustrating. If I hunkered down somewhere, I wanted it to be because I wanted to, not because I had to.
“Hey, Lee,” Violet called, pausing at the office door. A slow smile spread across her face. “What’s this, Murphy? You re-living your glory days?”
I held her gaze steadily. Her eyes were clear and guileless. Like she wasn’t behind the whole damn thing. “Something like that.” I glanced down at her empty hands. “No laptop, huh?”
“Nope,” she said matter-of-factly. “Did you have any luck with the lost and found on What’s New, Friday Harbor?”
She was so offhand about the whole thing. Maybe she wasn’t the one behind it all. My eyes narrowed. Her serene expression never faltered. The list of suspects was vanishingly small. And she was the only one with a key to my house. It had to be her.
I gestured to my outfit. “You could say that. They want their pound of flesh before giving it back.”
“You look cute. I miss your ball cap days.”
“Is that what this is all about?”
“What what’s about?” she asked, feigning innocence. But the way her eyes danced with humor reassured me I hadn’t unknowingly made an anonymous enemy. Violet, I could handle.
If she wasn’t ready to talk about it yet or didn’t want to admit to the prank, I’d let her keep up the act a little longer. I wasn’t in a rush. After all, I still had a few of my own moves to make.
“How was your day?” I asked.
Her face lit up, and my shoulders relaxed. Our game of cat and mouse had me doubting myself. But I knew Violet.
“I had the most beautiful surprise…” Her expression softened.
I wanted nothing more than to lean in and kiss her.
The dreamy quality to her dark eyes and the soft tilt of her lips made me ache to taste her sweet mouth.
I was so distracted, it took me a moment to process her next words, “My mom sent me a bunch of flowers. I think it’s an early birthday gift.
They’re gorgeous. The Salty Pantry is positively filled with bouquets. Isn’t that sweet?”
Fuck me. Was she joking? Had the note I’d left with the florist been lost?
Or was this part of the game?
“I’m going to sneak in a bath before dinner. I’m thinking something simple tonight – BLTs okay with you?”
Slowly, I nodded. Bacon was always okay with me. But I couldn’t get over her wide-eyed lack of curiosity about the flowers. So much for my claims of patience. I wanted her to forgive me already. But if she wasn’t ready, there wasn’t much I could do but wait. And hope.
“How about a movie or board game after dinner?” I asked.
Her eyes lit with pleasure, making me glad I’d decided to preserve the peace.
“A board game might be difficult with your leg, but I’d be interested in a movie.”
“Deal.”
She jogged upstairs, leaving me staring after her.
A few minutes later, the sounds of water filling the tub carried downstairs, the gentle rush of water making uncomfortable fantasies resurface.
My showers had been my only relief for the last few weeks.
Picturing Vi pleasuring herself while I watched had kept me stiff and wanting each time.
Now, she was adding an all-new torture to my fantasy roster – the tub.
I could picture her, dark hair piled high, glasses getting foggy as she sank below the cover of bubbles, a soft pink blush covering the globes of her generous breasts as they frolicked amongst the foam. Breasts don’t frolic. Telling my editor voice to shut up was easier said than done.
She was probably extending a pointed foot above the froth, tracing a razor over her calf.
Relaxing into the tub edge, letting her fingers caress every soft inch of skin, playing her body like a piano.
A concerto of lush pleasure. Thinking about how I’d describe Violet in print kept me occupied for the next few minutes.
Each depiction was more ridiculous than the last, but they had one thing in common: my fascination with her.
Water splashed faintly overhead, followed by Vi’s unmistakable, off-key warble drifting down through the floorboards. “I don’t start shit, but I can tell you how it ends…”
I grinned despite myself. She couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, but damn if the sound didn’t make me want to follow her upstairs and volunteer as her alibi. Humbling, since I was also probably her intended victim.
She pulled the plug on the drain as the last notes of her song drifted into the ether. A few minutes later, her gentle tread on the stairs announced her presence. I looked up, expecting comfy sweatpants or a robe. And about swallowing my tongue. Consuming every gorgeous detail.
“Fuck.”
The way her lips twitched told me I hadn’t kept my comment to myself.
“Do you need anything before I finish dinner?”
She asked as if she weren’t standing in only a towel that left the tops of her thighs bare. Creamy long legs, exposed shoulders. The thick terry cloth couldn’t hold a candle to her curves.
“Lee?”
Her eyes gleamed behind her glasses. My bet was that she had a robe and pajamas waiting upstairs. This move was all about torture. And it was working.
Two could play that game.
I cleared my throat. “Actually, yes.” I held her gaze, issuing a silent challenge. “I want to get cleaned up before dinner too, if I have time. Help me upstairs? I need fresh clothes, if you don’t mind.”
“Sure.”
She stepped closer, warm fingers sliding under my arm to steady me.
Close enough that the heat of her skin seeped through the terry cloth, close enough for my eyes to trace the deep V where the towel met.
Tempting me to see if she’d yelp or laugh if I tugged.
But this was her game, and I wasn’t giving her the satisfaction of an easy win.
“Careful,” she said as we started the slow climb.
“Are you talking to me or the towel?” I muttered.
“Both.”
By the time we reached the top, my pulse was pounding for reasons that had nothing to do with my ankle. She deposited me in the bathroom with a fresh set of clothes, then turned to go.
“You’re not sticking around to supervise?” I asked.
She paused in the doorway, eyes dancing. “I’m off duty, Murphy. Don’t get into trouble.”
The sound of her laughter lingered after she vanished down the hall. I cranked the shower on, knowing damn well the real trouble was how much I wanted her to stay.