Gift From The Bad Boy

Not yet, at least.

I felt myself blushing again. I needed to do something, move something. “Idle hands are the devil’s workshop” was one of the things I remembered people in church saying all the time. I hadn’t realized how true that was until right this second. Every tick of the clock that passed while I stood in the kitchen and focused on the lingering smell of leather and musk that Ben had left behind was another nail in the coffin of my ability to resist doing what I wanted to do, which was namely to grab a fistful of Ben’s hair in each hand and devour those perfect lips of his.

Shaking my head to jolt myself into motion, I slid around the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on dinner. I poked around at the pot roast stewing in the crockpot and pulled a tray of sliced potatoes from the oven where they’d been roasting. They were sizzling and golden brown. Their salty smell filled the kitchen, wiping away Ben’s scent, for which I was both grateful and a little disappointed. I set them on top of the stove to cool while I tossed all the cleaning supplies I’d been using into a bucket and scurried over to the storage closet to put them away.

I dropped the bucket and gloves inside, stripped off the apron I’d bought today, and hung that on a hook on the back of the door. Then I closed it behind me and looked around the living room to survey the day’s handiwork.

I had to admit, I’d made a pretty good dent in the monstrous pile of work that had been facing me when I’d first arrived here. A few framed pictures hung on the wall, vases of flowers were dotted along new end tables, and the coffee table, which was once barren, now had an attractive spread of glossy photography books and a cute little Zen garden I’d found tucked away in the back of a knick-knacks shop at the mall. Between the new decorations and the filth I’d scrubbed away, it didn’t feel so much like a cross between a landfill and a monastery. Now, it almost felt like a home. My home. Or rather, our home.

That was a bizarre thought. I pushed it away immediately and got to work setting the table.

When the plates and silverware were arranged and the food was plated and ready to be served, I walked over to the bedroom to tell Ben it was time to eat. He was stepping out of the bathroom as I stuck my head in. His hair was sopping wet, droplets flying everywhere as he toweled it vigorously. The motion made his biceps bulge. My eyes traced the path of one thick vein as it wandered from his elbow up to the edge of his chest. Before I could stop myself, my gaze fell, tracking down his mountainous abdomen and coming to rest for the briefest pause between his legs.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” I said. I turned beet red as I ducked back into the living room to shield my eyes. “I didn’t mean to walk in on you.” I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or die of embarrassment. It looked like it was my turn to be on the opposite end of the walking-in-on-someone-naked encounter, just like Jay had done to me earlier. I was positive astronauts could see how hard I was blushing from space.

I couldn’t quite explain why I felt so mortified. After all, I’d seen him naked before, hadn’t I? That was the cause of this whole mess—the thing growing inside me, the baby he’d put there. But it felt different now. That was a lifetime ago, it seemed like, back when I was a different person with a different path. So much had changed since then. I wasn’t ready to cross that particular bridge for a second time, and I didn’t know if I would ever be ready.

Ben chuckled. “It’s okay. You can come in; I’ve got a towel on.”

I pivoted slowly back into the doorway, not daring to cross the threshold and unwilling to raise my eyes above knee level. “I was just coming to tell you that dinner is ready,” I said in a strangled voice.

“Thanks, Carmen. I’ll be there in one sec. I just gotta get dressed.”

“Okay,” I whispered. I spun back and walked over to the table to take my seat.

The flush in my face had barely started to die down when Ben came sauntering into the room wearing a fresh white t-shirt and jeans. The shirt was straining to cover his glistening skin, and little beads of water were still embedded in his beard and hair. He opened his eyes wide as he took in the spread of food I’d laid out across the table.