Going Under (Wildfire Lake 2)
Within ten minutes, she’s got the bunk playhouse laid out in a precision so neat, even I can envision where things go.
She picks up the directions again, glances at the finished image of the bed, compares it to the parts and gives an affirmative nod.
Then she looks at me. “Finish that glass before we start. You’re going to need it.”
Four hours later, we’ve drained two full bottles of wine and are working on our third. KT has downed a dose of Tylenol and is ready for another round of Advil. But she never complains, never hints at quitting, and is endlessly patient with my poor spatial acuity.
I use a closed-end wrench to tighten up the bolts on the roof covering half of the top bunk while KT uses an Allen wrench to finish adding the fake flower boxes and shutters to every window.
We meet at th
e wall where we sit beside each other and stare at the little playhouse bunk bed, both of us grinning with accomplishment.
“It’s just as awesome as it is in the photos,” I say.
“The pink accents really make it pop.”
She’s right. Against the white walls and rails, the bright pink accents really give the furniture a fun and happy vibe. I’ve got a bittersweet knot in my stomach because I’m so comfortable with her that in some ways, I feel like I could be sitting beside Jana, both of us looking on this accomplishment with the anticipation of parents. In some ways, I feel like Jana is here now, giving approval—of the move, of the gifts and, maybe, even of KT.
“What’s going on?” KT asks. “Are you disappointed?”
“Hell, no.” I smile, then shake my head and decide to keep those strange thoughts to myself. “I’m just amazed.” I look at her. “And so grateful. This is going to mean a lot to Jazz.”
“What a cute name.”
“Thanks. She’s a cute kid. They all are.”
“I have no doubt. Is their mother still part of their lives?”
“Hard to say,” I murmur, contemplating the question seriously. “She passed away three years ago. Cancer.”
“Oh, Jesus, Ben,” she says, her smile gone, her voice heavy with regret. “I’m sorry. I thought— Never mind.”
“It’s okay. Like you with your dad, I have good memories to cherish. But my two younger kids don’t remember her, so whether she’s a part of their lives or not is hard to answer.”
“You’ve been raising them yourself for three years?”
Longer, actually. Once Jana was diagnosed with cancer, there was chemo and radiation. “They’re great girls, and I’m lucky enough to afford help. I can’t complain.”
“Of course you could. You just choose not to, which is admirable in itself.”
She totally gets it. Probably went through the same with her father. It feels good to talk to someone who understands.
KT taps her phone, and the time appears on the screen. “I better go before they wake up. I’d be hard to pass off as Santa.”
That makes unexpected laughter bubble up. I cover her hand on the floor and roll my head against the wall to look at her. “Will you let me take you to dinner after the holidays?”
“No, but thank you for the offer.” She turns her hand over and threads our fingers. I can’t tell if the look in her eyes is desire or fatigue. “Though I’m more than open to a hookup sometime.”
I stare at her, my mind bending to try to understand that statement. “I’m sorry, I’ve been out of the dating pool for so long, I don’t know the current terminology. When you say ‘hookup,’ you mean…what?”
She’s grinning like she finds me adorable, which isn’t what I was hoping for. “Sex. No befores, no afters. Just hot, sweaty, raw sex for the sake of sex.”
My mind flashes with sultry images of getting her naked, touching her, tasting her, rolling in the sheets with her. My body reacts faster than it has in years. But I’m still confused. “You’re open to sex, but not dinner?”
“Now you’ve got it.”
I’m still trying to get my head around it, but my mouth opens and “When?” pops out.