She climbed on the bike, shaking her head. “Holy moly, what an imagination.” She gave me a little wave. “See you tomorrow!”
I watched her disappear down the driveway, the urge to follow her and make sure she was okay, strong.
She didn’t see herself the way I did. How she looked in the outfits she wore. How alluring she was no matter what she wore. Even on the weekends in sweats and a loose shirt, she was sexy.
But at least I wouldn’t have to suffer the yoga pants again.
Nothing could be as torturous as that.The house seemed too empty without her. I ate dinner on the porch outside, the salad and chicken delicious as always. Charly was right—her cooking was simple, but it suited me. Everything was tasty and fresh—way better than the shit I had eaten before she came along.
Brett was gone, having agreed that Wednesdays were the quietest in the shop, so he would take them off. He headed into Toronto for a night with friends and wouldn’t return until tomorrow evening, so I had the place to myself. His friend was coming with him tomorrow for me to meet him. That should be interesting.
I sipped a beer and polished off the dinner, then ate the last piece of pie, hoping another one would appear tomorrow. Or maybe more cobbler. I wondered if I could convince Brett to mention those cookies Charly owed him. I had a feeling they’d be damn awesome as well—as long as he shared them.
I wandered the house, drinking another beer, listening to the silence. Had it ever been this loud before? Charly had only been around for a few weeks, and in the house for an even shorter time, yet the place felt empty without her.
I had no idea what to do about her. She insisted she had no desire for anything but sex, but I still had my doubts. Sex with her was incredible. Hands down the most intense passion I had ever shared with a woman. She could light me up with a single look. The way she taunted me, goaded and teased me. Found ways to irk me so I growled and snapped at her, which for some reason, turned her on. I found that a little disconcerting, yet typical of Charly. She didn’t do anything halfway.
But it was what happened after sex with her that confounded me the most. It was I who took her to my bed every night. She loved—needed—to be held. And I liked holding her—far more than I should. The feel of her molded to my chest, her hair spilling down her back over my hands was becoming addictive. I found the tighter I held her, the more she melted into me. It was hard to figure out where I stopped and she started at times.
And then there were her little conversations in the dark that always started the same way. “Tell me a secret.”
I knew about how lonely she was since her dad died. How devastated she had been when her brother passed. How she struggled when she realized her father would never recover from that loss and she would be alone soon.
She whispered how terrified she was I would send her away that first week. “I had nowhere else to go, Maxx. And I already loved it here.”
All her confessions told in the safety of the darkness, where I couldn’t see her face but could hear the pain in her voice.
They all made me hold her tighter as if I could stitch the pieces of her broken heart back together with my embrace.
I wasn’t as open as she was, but I talked about losing my parents, my worry about the shop and doing them proud. She listened, always finding the right words to assure me of her confidence in my choices. I did confess to planning on sending her away at first but was honest and promised she had a place here for as long as she wanted it.
And that, right there, was the thing. She would want to move on. Sooner or later, living in a room in my house, having sex with me, and facing the reality that I was twelve years her senior, set in my ways, and not interested in marriage or much else aside from my garage, would wear her down. She would want more. And she deserved more.
I sighed in the stillness of the house, sitting in the darkness of my living room. Rufus was at my feet, somehow sensing my mood and staying close.
I dreaded that day, yet I knew it would come.
At least, this time, I set the rules. I was prepared, and when she left, I would wish her well and be grateful for the time we had together.
I was a here and now.
Not a forever.