Jackson rubbed his chin, nose wrinkled a bit. “She did, did she?”
“She sure did. Marvin can ValuPak it all he wants, because after my party I’ll no longer be requiring his services, if you know what I mean.”
He didn’t or at least he sure as hell didn’t want to, but on a sigh he asked the obvious question anyway. “What was the ValuPak incident?”
“Jillian didn’t tell you?”
Head shake.
Making her usual quick scan as if anyone in the hearing-aid community could really hear her, she leaned in closer to the window. “You know that ValuPak envelope of coupons everyone gets in the mail?”
A nod.
“Well, sometimes there are coupons for bras and other feminine things. So last week I stepped out into the garage to get my flyswatter that hangs by the door, and you wanna know what I saw?”
He didn’t. He really didn’t.
“Marvin sitting in a lawn chair by his work bench playing with himself while he had three of the coupons from the ValuPak stuck to the side of the bench with magnets. One was for a bra sale at Penny’s, one was for a thirty-day trial at a fitness studio, and the other was for Hardee’s. Everyone knows the hot women on those commercials don’t really eat that stuff.”
Jackson would not be eating anything for a good long time.
“So…” he held up the envelope “…I’ll give this to Ryn.”
“Ryn! That’s her name. Jillian told me but I forget. I knew it was a songbird, but all I could think of was Robin. Well, toodaloo … tell her I’m giddy with excitement to meet her.” Greta waved as Jackson backed out of the garage.
*
The Nike slogan played on repeat in Jackson’s mind as he made the two right and one left turn that separated the five miles from his house to Ryn’s. The gusty winds that had ripped the amber leaves from the trees earlier in the day had died down. The blinding angle of the setting sun made it difficult to see pedestrians in the crosswalks as the bars and restaurants bulged with the Friday night crowd. Even Ryn’s street had cars lined on both sides, walking distance from the entertainment district.
Just Do It.
The line between psyching himself up and psyching himself out disappeared, leaving him lost in the blurry middle. Before his brain shifted into overdrive, he hopped out and strode toward her door with the confidence of this guy from San Francisco he used to know.
One lock clicked and then another. Even with Gunner, Ryn kept her doors locked at all times.
“Hi.” She smiled with a bit of hesitation. Her look said “are you still mad at me for laughing at your pathetic advances?”
He grinned. The less he said the better.
“Come in. I ran late at my last job so I need to shower. Dinner is in the oven.” She walked toward the kitchen.
The view of her ass shifting slightly side to side in her yoga pants fed his intentions.
Just Do It.
“Smells good. What is it?”
“Lasagna, but it has about thirty minutes, so maybe I should run and take a quick shower.” She slipped off her oven mitts after pulling the foil from the top of the casserole dish.
“No.”
She froze. Only her eyes flitted from one side of the room to the other, trying to solve his mysterious response. “No … what?”
Just. Do. It.
“One question.” He pulled off his shirt, needing all the persuasive ammunition he could get.
Ryn’s eyes widened.
“And it’s a yes or no answer.” He stepped closer, backing her into the refrigerator. “Do you want me?”
“I-I need a shower.”
He shook his head, inching closer yet. “Try again.”
“I’ve been cleaning houses—”
Another head shake that silenced her. She. Was. His. Once a woman responded to his non-verbal commands, it was equivalent to folding in a poker game.
“Yes … or no?” he whispered in her ear.
Backed into a hard surface with no place to go, breathless, and stumbling for words … that’s what he knew. There was only one word he needed.
“Say it.”
“I probably smell like—”
“Say. It.”
Sliding his hands along the outside of her T-shirt, he stopped and kneaded her breasts with a firm pressure that made her hiss.
“I’m too—”
“Say it!” he growled, pinching her nipples so hard she jumped.
“Yes!” she yelled. “Yes, I want you to fuck me!’
Stilling his hands, he raised his face from her neck and just stared at her for a moment. Her breaths came so fast she could hardly catch them. Ryn looked shocked as if she, too, couldn’t believe those words came from her mouth. He didn’t say it, but he sure did think it: Holy shit! Jillian was right. Ryn wants me to fuck her like the stable boy.
If he didn’t snap out of it, she could change her mind. They both could overthink everything.
Just Do It.
Chapter Sixteen
The oven heated to 375 degrees. Ryn did too. Tomato, oregano, and basil filled the air. A bag of Romaine lettuce waited by the sink to be cleaned and chopped into a salad. The cracked window welcomed the soothing yet dramatic tones of the Japanese wind chime on her back deck, dancing in the breeze. There was the compression bra issue again, but his magic touch managed to draw them out of hiding. The dirt and grime from a long day of cleaning clung to her body, and the shivering fear of everything left her trembling. If she’d had a tail it would have been between her legs.