Tara nodded, then smirked. “How good is he?”
Dani’s brain tripped on the innuendo, on deciding whether to play it off or dismiss it entirely, and instead she freaking blushed. Brilliantly. Heat flooded her face.
“Oh, my God!” Tara’s eyes went wide as she grinned. “Dani! Shut. Up. Right. Now.”
She was so busted that she dropped her face into her hands and groaned.
“Oh, my God, omigod!” Tara pulled at one of Dani’s hands until she uncovered her face. Dani peered at Tara and found her friend’s expression filled with pure delight. “I need details. Big, muscular, juicy details.”
Dani chuckled despite herself.
And then she sighed, debated, and let her admission fly. “So…on Thursday night, we had sex. He proved himself an orgasm-giving god among men. And now…I don’t know what we are or what I want or if I even want anything.” Tara’s eyes got wider with every word Dani uttered. “And if you ever tell him I said he was an orgasm-giving god I will have to kill you even though I really like you.”
“I won’t. I promise,” she whispered, even though they were the only ones in the locker room. “Wow. Wow!” Tara stared at Dani like she’d just won the lottery. If only her feelings about Sean were that clear. Or, like, even a little clear.
But now that Dani was sharing, she figured she might as well come all the way clean. “And this wasn’t the first time it happened.”
Tara’s jaw dropped open and she slapped her gloves against the bench. “What? When?” And then her eyes narrowed into all-knowing slits. “The freaking Halloween party. Tell me I’m not right!”
“You’re right.”
“I knew it! I totally knew it! That’s why you two have been throwing off the fuck-me-or-fight-me vibes all this time.” Tara was pretty much wearing a perma-grin now.
Geez, had it really that obvious? Dani chucked her gloves into her bag and yanked out her towel. “I guess. The thing is, it’s been different spending time with him this past week.”
“How so?”
Sighing, Dani really thought about what she meant. “There’s just a lot more to him than I realized.”
And that was a problem, because Dani liked a lot of what she’d learned about the man—his playfulness, his passions, the little quirky things they had in common, like loving tomato soup and grilled cheese, or thinking cheddar and caramel popcorn tasted great together. And they had more important things in common than she’d ever known, too. In addition to being prior military, working in fields that both focused on helping people in moments of crisis, belonging to WFC, and sharing a lot of friends, Dani had been surprised to learn that her sense of humor was so similar to his. And she’d been amazed to find that she enjoyed superhero stories as much as he did, a new interest that was heightened by remembering Sean talking about how those stories had helped him through his childhood. The way he talked, he didn’t have much family, and neither did she. And he liked to read, which she did, too. They even enjoyed some of the same books.
It seemed like with every new thing she learned about the man, she found something else that appealed to her. But she just didn’t know if she wanted anyone appealing to her, damnit. Being alone got lonely, sure, but being together raised the specter of getting left behind again. Of having the person she cared about getting unexpectedly ripped away. And she just wasn’t sure how much more of that she could take.
“If that’s true, then why not see where it goes? What are the cons?”
Dani turned and faced her friend. On an exhale that left her feeling ancient, she let the words fly. “July third is the anniversary of my husband’s death. You’d think since it’s been six years, it wouldn’t screw me up so much anymore, but honestly, it does. And it is.” She managed a small smile when Tara grasped her hand. “So I don’t know if I want to be in a relationship, with anyone. And it’s really freaking hard to figure out what I feel right now when my emotions are so all over the place.”
“Aw, Dani, I’m sorry. I would have to think it’s totally normal for an anniversary to hit you hard like that. I mean, it’s not at all the same thing, but the anniversary of my accident always makes me unsettled. Even though I see this everyday—” She fingered the long, marked scar that curved around one whole side of her neck. “—I feel the weight of it even more right before the anniversary. It’s almost like a feeling of dread. As if, just because something bad happened on that date before, it’s going to happen again. It’s terrible and frustrating, because just when I think I’m really over it, here comes a reminder to set off my anxiety all over again.”