Counterfeit Love

Neat and organized, that was how she wanted things.

"I've got a bowl for them somewhere. Well, it's a container that came with takeout, but I washed it, and it will do."

"Great. Okay. Well. I am going to go, ah, pick you up some cleaning supplies. Since I am pretty sure you don't have any of your own," she told me, eager to get away.

"Darling," I called as she went for the door. "Here," I said, reaching into my back pocket for my wallet. "Already owe you enough," I told her, pulling out some cash, holding it out.

It was a dick move.

I knew it even as I waited for her to reach for the cash, as her fingers closed around it, as I let my thumb move out to purposely stroke over hers.

It was a dick move.

Because she clearly didn't like being touched. I should have respected that. I should have kept my distance for her comfort.

But my thumb stroked down her thumb.

And there was a cheesy-as-fuck, but undeniable jolt of electricity at the contact.

And I figured she felt it too, because her gaze shot up to mine, those full lips of hers parting slightly, her eyes squinting small with confusion.

She didn't immediately pull her hand away, though.

Curious, I moved my thumb over hers once again. A little slower, watching as she took a slow, deep breath, as some of the tension left her shoulders.

Knowing the moment wouldn't last forever, wanting it to end on something other than awkwardness or discomfort, I teased her.

"You know, if we were in Victorian times, we'd have to get married now," I told her, watching as confusion turned to amusement, a smile tugging her lips upward, toying with her usually so-serious eyes.

"You're ridiculous," she told me, taking the money, tucking it into her back pocket.

"You love it," I shot back, watching as a blush tinted her cheeks as she turned to walk away, glancing over her shoulder at me once before she was gone.

Oh, yeah, she loved it, alright.

Maybe she wasn't ready to admit that.

And maybe she was confused about it.

But that was alright.

Because I planned to keep her close for a while.

She would have some time to suss things out.

I'd be there when she did.

And it wouldn't exactly be a hardship to wait, I decided as she came back an hour later with half the cleaning aisle in her trunk, making me haul it all in while she got to work filling a bucket with hot, soapy water.

"What are my orders now?" I asked as she dug through the last of the bags, pulling out spray bottles, sponges, and rags.

"Finish unpacking that truck. It needs to be back later tonight. I am going to get started on the cleaning."

"You're going to clean my house?"

"Well, I am not entirely sure you are capable of doing it satisfactorily," she told me. There was no malice in her words, just honesty, it seemed. And she wasn't wrong about it either. "Seeing as I will need to come here to pick up the money for the mission, I would prefer not to worry that every surface is covered in some new form of antibiotic-resistant bacteria."

I'm not gonna lie, watching her clean my new place wasn't exactly a hardship since cleaning involved twisting and turning and bending in interesting ways that happened to show off a woman's body from very enticing angles.

When she was finished, there were faint traces of lemon cleaners and bleach in all the rooms, and everything--even those grimy windows--was clean.

"I'm guessing the old place came 'furnished,' from your lack of anything to sit on," she said, looking around, taking in my boxes piled against the wall. "You need to go furniture shopping."

"That sounds an awful lot like you're offering to go with me, angel."

"I think you need to get your hearing checked then," she told me, but there was a ghost of a smile on her lips.

"I mean... I could do it myself," I agreed, reaching for another lollipop, unwrapping it, noticing her eyes were following as I lifted it and slipped it between my lips. So, of course, I went ahead and made a show of it for her. "But then I might end up with an air hockey table instead of a dining one."

"Who do you have to play air hockey with?"

"Well, I got you, don't I?"

"No one has me," she countered. Then, seemed to realize what she had said, eyes getting a bit wide. "I mean, I don't have time for frivolity."

"Frivolity," I repeated, chuckling.

"It's the right word."

"I'm sure it is. I get that work is important to you, doll, but you gotta live a little too."

"And playing air hockey is living a little?"

"If the opponent is worthy," I agreed. "But, yeah, if I'm left to my own devices, things could get weird in here. And then whenever you visit, you will have to be a part of that weirdness," I told her, shaking my head.