Chapter Eight
Joy scraped the dinner plates into the trashcan so her mother could rinse them before loading the dishwasher.
“Watch what you’re doing,” Sophia scolded at the bits of corn and crumbs missing the wide mouth of the pail.
Distracted by the earlier conversation with Tristan, Joy blinked until his image faded.
“I’m going to Bingo Night at the firehouse.”
“That sounds fun,” Joy said halfheartedly, wondering what to wear tonight.
“Why don’t you come? It starts at seven. Then I don’t have to bother your father for a ride.” Her mother didn’t like to drive during the daytime, never mind at night.
“I have plans.”
Sophia’s face twisted in disbelief. “What kind of plans?”
Although Joy hadn’t officially accepted Tristan’s tempting invitation, still convincing herself it wasn’t some crude April Fool’s ploy, she spent the rest of the afternoon inventing believable escape routes with enough potential for getting out of the house, however none of those stories bubbled to the surface now that she needed one. Going to Lily’s popped in her head, but knowing Sophia, the woman might want to stop by for a visit. Being honest would never work because anything remotely resembling a date would send her mother into interrogation-mode, especially with Victor stirring the shit pot long-distance.
“I, um…I’m going to look at an apartment.” The fat lie came out of nowhere, but since it could be true for working people with no daytime hours to house hunt Joy rolled with it without flinching.
“That’s great.” It was no secret her mother was anxious for the houseguests to leave so she could get back to a normal life. “A garden apartment?”
“No. A basement apartment.”
Her mother lifted an impartial shoulder. “I’ll tag along. I’d love to check it out with you. Then we can go to bing—”
“No, Ma,” Joy snapped, then sweetened her tone to avoid suspicion, “I mean…it’s okay. This is something I need to do alone. Not that I don’t want your opinion. But this is a decision I should make without anyone else’s input. I’m the one who has to live there.”
“What if the landlord is some kinda weirdo? A pervert or something?” Sophia shook her head as she dried her hands on the dishtowel. “I don’t think it’s safe for you to go alone to a stranger’s house.”
Heat climbed up Joy’s neck. “Don’t worry. Rex is coming with me.”
“You’re bringing the dog, but not me? Unbelievable.” She threw the dishrag in the sink then stomped out of the kitchen.
“Ma,” Joy shouted, but Sophia didn’t stop until she reached the end of the hallway and disappeared behind the bedroom door. Passive-aggressive is what the therapist called this behavior; Victor did the same toxic thing.
Terrific. On top of shameless lying to her mother, Joy hurt the woman’s feelings, again, making things worse. Where were her anxiety pills when she needed them? In her car, out of reach to do any good now. Her folks must have something in the medicine cabinet to nip the blooming stress-headache in the bud. An aspirin and a hot shower would have to suffice.
She figured it would be hard moving back in with her parents. But not this hard. Every move she made, they were right there, giving the third degree, minding her business. It would be nice to be honest with them—on everything. But their tendency to overreact and blow up at any misunderstanding set Joy in avoidance mode similar to the way she operated when she was married.
It was time to let go of the traumas of her past and let her mind wander toward the potentials of the future. Or at least the prospect of tonight.
Not including her one-night fluke with Tristan, which couldn’t be counted since she was too bombed to make a rationale decision, Joy hadn’t been out with a man in forever; she’d forgotten what it was like. If she were seriously considering seeing him again, she ought to play hard to get while being hard for him to resist.
Friend with benefits would never work for her no matter what sort of modern love Lily might try pushing.
Besides, Tristan barely qualified as an acquaintance.
And she was too softhearted for casual sex. Got attached too easily. Required something more than just sleeping with a friend to satisfy her libido. Sex was as much mental as it was physical, for her anyway. Once she allowed a man into her mind, there would be no way to stop her heart from wanting more.
By the time Joy tiptoed out of the bathroom, her mother’s purse was missing from its usual spot on the chair beside the front door.
Bruno emerged from the kitchen with a bowl of ice cream and plopped on the couch, startling her. “What’d you do to upset Aunt Sophia this time?”
“Nothing,” she squeaked in self-defense and tucked the corner of the towel tighter under her armpit.
“Something must’ve happened,” he said, with a shrew cock to his brow.
“I don’t wanna play bingo tonight,” Joy snapped. “That’s all.”
“You sure? Because she was pretty upset when she left.”
Ignoring his interrogation, Joy dug out a brush from her pocketbook and dragged it through her dripping locks with a rough hand.
“Wet hair is weaker than dry hair. It’ll break and you’ll wind up with split ends.”
Joy rolled her eyes at his unsolicited advice, wishing she had a bedroom with walls. After a moment of deliberate silence, she exhaled. “I’m going to check out an apartment. What’s the big deal?”
“Hmmm.” Doubt laced his breath. After all the years being a hair dresser, spending so much time with the opposite sex made Bruno a difficult man to fool. “Really?”
“Of course, really.” Getting caught in the lie made her stomach cramp. Hopefully she didn’t sound as guilt-ridden as she felt.
“If that’s all you’re doing, why’d couldn’t Aunt Sophia go? What’s the big deal?”
“Some things I need to do on my own,” she huffed with a haughty chin tilt.
“Did you think, maybe, your mother wants to spend a little time with you?” Her astute cousin always had his aunt’s back.
Just because they let Bruno have the spare room, on top of giving him full reign of the barbershop to turn it into a chic little male/female boutique salon he renamed Bellas & Fellas, he somehow thought he knew more about her folks than she did. Maybe he did.
Struggling to withstand his mental squeezing without cracking under pressure, Joy gave a careless shrug. Distracted with the anticipation of seeing Tristan, she checked the contents of her oversized duffle bag that contained every basic necessity she owned.
“Are you just looking at the place or moving in?”
“Ya never know.” Getting caught in a web of lies was climbing high on her laundry list of worries; she just wanted to get the hell out of here before she said too much.
Bruno shot to his feet and put his face in Joy’s, snatching her full attention. “You live out of that bag. Everything you fled Florida with is in there. So, cut the crap, okay? You might be able to fool your folks, but you can’t fool me.” He scrutinized her with laser vision. “What’s really going on?”
She bowed her head like a remorseful child.
“We all have secrets, Joy. Lord knows I hear enough of them from the ladies at the salon. I’m like a vault so you have nothing to worry about.”
What a relief it would be to share this classified information with someone. She wavered, considering coming clean, but clammed up instead. “Quit bugging me. Geez.”
“Let me remind you, it’s April first, so anything you say can be retracted with an April Fool’s gotcha and we can forget all about it.” Bruno waved his hands like a magician, making any incriminating words disappear.
“Okay, fine. I met someone. April Fool’s. Gotcha.”
“Lemme guess…some stud from cyber-world sent a snapshot of his junk and got you all hot and bothered? Trust me when I say lots of divorced women go through dry spells. That’s an über-hot topic at the salon. I hope you have enough sense to avoid hooking up with any freaks you meet online, interested in nothing more than a booty-call.”
Cringing at the concept, she spat, “You’re disgusting.”
“Don’t blame me. Blame the new world of dating. It used to be I’ll strip for you if you strip for me in the flesh. Nowadays, it’s message me a photo of your privates and I’ll message you mine.”
“If you must know, we met in person. In a bar actually.”
“That’s original,” he snorted. “And you’re not telling your parents about this top-secret lover because…”
“He’s not my lover. And you know why I don’t tell them things—I don’t want the lectures. I’m looking at thirty in a few months, for chrissake. Thirty and divorced.” Joy slumped, cupping her face in her hands, rubbing the tension from her forehead. “I oughta be allowed to date if I want, except my mother wants me to focus all my energy on being a mom.”
“A mom? To who, your dog?” He jutted his powerful chin toward Rex dozing in the corner and snickered, then apologized. “I didn’t mean anything by that remark. But the kids don’t even live with you yet. If anything, now’s the time to get your ya-yas out, before they’re here to ruin any chance of fun—not that kids aren’t terrific, if you’re into that sort of stuff. Never mind—you know what I mean. So, is this guy legit or what?”
“Legit?” She squinted, confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know…Is he into you? Or is he just looking for a warm body in his bed?”
Joy would have snapped back something snarky, but she wasn’t a hundred percent sure what Tristan really wanted from her, considering he wasn’t dead-set on staying in Scenic View once the summer ended. If nothing else, at least he’d make for a nice transitional relationship. “I…I think he likes me. That’s what I’m hoping to find out. I mean, he invited me over for—”
Bruno stuck up his palm. “I don’t need details, cuz. No names. No places. No info. As far as I’m concerned, I know nothing. I see nothing. I hear nothing. I just want peace in this house between you and your mother. Aunt Sophia loves you. You know she’s a control freak. Just let her freak flag fly, it doesn’t mean you have to salute it. The woman only wants the best for you and your kids. So do us all a favor, don’t go starting a relationship with someone who has nothing to offer because you’ll never hear the end of it. And do yourself a favor and don’t fall in love with the first guy to come along.”
****
Cruising under the speed limit to Tristan’s, Joy followed the last glimpse of the fading fireball as it sank behind the tall oaks just starting to bud. She knew the way to his house on Hollyhock Hill better than she knew the pangs of her own racing heart.
What if this is a bad idea? An April Fool’s prank? She couldn’t stand being set up for a letdown. Not again. Not after everything she’d been through—was still going through—with Victor. She was finally standing on her own two feet.
Sort of.
Sure, she was sleeping on her folks’ couch. And waitressing at Mr. Lucky’s proved to be a bust. But she was making a few bucks off the books working at Violet’s Valise. Plus, if things play out her way for once, the part-time slot at Everyday’s Christmas would be a full-time position by the fall.
Up and down the steep hills, Joy alternated between a lead foot on the gas and riding the brake, weighing the pros and cons of seeing Tristan again. No matter what reason she conjured for turning around, her high hopes returned to the fact that he sought her out and invited her here.
To avoid any reports of her whereabouts traveling through the grapevine to her parents, she steered clear of the firehouse and took the long way in case anyone paid attention to the new sporty set of wheels that always seemed to turn heads in a town filled with heavy-duty pickup trucks, SUVs, reliable minivans, and economy sedans.
Parked in Tristan’s driveway, Joy collected her wits, debating if she should back out and take Rex to the pet shop instead. The pup did well while the car was moving, but now that they stopped he scratched at the door to get out.
“Let’s get it over with,” she convinced her reflection in the mirrored visor, doing her best to ignore the remnants of her childhood home next door.
Toting in the bulky overnight bag was a bit presumptuous. What am I thinking, packing for a sleepover? So she left it in the car and just brought Rex.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d make it.” Tristan stepped outside the screen door with an ear-to-ear grin.
Inching up the driveway, Joy almost blurted out she wasn’t sure either but bit her bottom lip instead, preventing her weak smile from spreading as wide as his. Dumbstruck by the notable difference in Tristan’s appearance, she stopped and stared, wondering if he was the same man—
It wasn’t just the navy blue tie and cornflower blue collared shirt combination, with dark-washed jeans, polished harness boots, topped with a fitted black leather jacket, making him look like he stepped out of a metro-sexual biker boy fashion magazine, that had her frothing.
Nor was it his glossy, slicked-back hair.
It was his clean-shaven jaw, which looked even better without the manly fur.
Joy snapped back to reality when her dog tugged on the leash in order to reach the ornamental Japanese maple tree and lifted his hind leg. “No, Rex. No. Bad boy. Sorry…”
“Don’t worry about it.” Tristan’s chuckle sounded half-amused, half-nervous. “It’s fine. Really.”
“I’ll douse it with some water so he doesn’t kill—”
“Forget about it.” Tristan ambled down the porch steps and nudged her toward the front door. “Aren’t you cold?” His breath formed a cloud with the unseasonably crisp temperature.
Not anymore, Joy mused as his slight touch ignited every nerve along her spine, spreading to the rest of the body.
“Get inside before you catch a cold or something.”
She followed him up the three steps, and he opened the door, letting her go through first. Memories of their night together flashed like a wild and crazy silent movie in her head. Just when she thought she didn’t recall much, she remembered…everything. The bathtub. The kitchen. The couch. The bed. The kiss. The sex.
Once she stepped over the threshold, he crushed her in a hug so tight even his jacket squeaked. “I’m glad you came.”
One whiff of his fresh earth and tanned leather scent and she knew—she was glad she came too.
Joy pulled away only to keep her curious eyes on him, unable to believe the tremendous transformation. “Wow. You look…great. Really, really great.” She could have said a dozen other adjectives—handsome, gorgeous, sexy, doable—but it was best to keep it simple to avoid saying something stupid.
“And you… You’re…” He shook his head as if searching for the right words and just exhaled a smitten sigh instead.
Suddenly self-conscious at his grazing gaze scanning her from head to toe, her cheeks flared with heat. She hadn’t known what the night would entail, so she slipped into something simple—her favorite faded skinny jeans, topped with an ivory cap-sleeved blouse with tiny pearl buttons down the front, under a flowy cranberry sweater, and silver ballerina flats that felt more like comfortable slippers.
His bright eyes locked on hers. “Captivating…”
It’d been so long since an attractive man complimented her with such sincerity, she couldn’t respond beyond whispering a husky, “Thank you,” in return. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I can’t help noticing how you look so…” She narrowed her eyes, unable to tear them away from his sculpted cheeks and strong chin now that she could see them without the blur of facial hair. “Different.”
He rubbed the bare skin as if he missed an important piece of his true identity. “It was time for a change.”
“I hope you didn’t do it for me.” Joy’s lips moved faster than her brain. Of course he didn’t…why would he? “I mean…I kinda liked the beard. A lot.”
“You did?” His brows lifted in surprise. “I knew I shouldn’t’ve listened to ’em,” he mumbled.
“Them—who?”
“My buddies. They’ve been harping on me for weeks to get rid of it. So I went to your family’s shop after I saw you and had your pop take it off.”
There was no reason to ask how he knew her relatives—small town, one barbershop, loose-lips Lily, and the velocity of the grapevine.
“I guess I could get used to you without it,” she said mindlessly, before she could stop the words from falling out. Stroking his smooth cheek was tempting, but luckily she had enough sense to keep her hands safely to herself. As much as she wanted to jump his bones on the spot, what she needed was his friendship. Sex would have to wait until she got past the awkward stage of seeing him again after avoiding him.
In order to break the spell, she shoved her pet between them. “Say hello to Rex.” The pup went to town licking Tristan’s cheeks and Joy felt an irrational pang of jealousy.
From the dim hallway, Tristan’s Yorkie inched closer, reluctant to meet the new furry houseguest in her master’s arms.
“Come on, Cookie. Don’t be shy. You remember Joy, don’t ya?” He scooped her up in one big hand, held her close to his chest as he nuzzled his nose against the top of her head.
Joy’s heart melted at his tenderness toward the animals.
“Meet your new”—he glanced at Joy to fill in the blank, then suggested—“playmate?”
Half-shrugging, half-nodding, she said, “Friend is a good place to start.”
He turned Cookie around and let Rex smell her tail end. Then did the same with Rex, letting Cookie enjoy a whiff. “There. Best buddies for life now that we got the preliminary greetings out of the way.” And just like that, Rex followed his new companion to the kitchen, little nails tapping the hardwood floor.
“You’re like the Dog Whisperer.”
“Nah. That’s an old trick—getting to sniff without having to submit levels the playing field. They should get along fine for a while unless they fight over food, but I put out an extra bowl for Rex.”
Joy followed Tristan to the kitchen and set her oversized pocketbook on a stool before noticing the two rubber placemats side-by-side against the wall—one pink with polka dots, the other blue with stripes. On each were two bowls—water in one, kibble in the other. Her heart flipped. Victor never acknowledged Rex, never mind treat the dog like part of the family, even before they filed for divorce.
“That’s very thoughtful, Tristan.” She swallowed a lump of gratitude before any sentimental tears escaped. “I don’t know what to say.”
On the counter was another setting for two—a cheese and fruit platter, small white dishes, and stemmed glasses, reminiscent of their first technically-not-a-date date.
“I didn’t know if you wanted to stay in. Or go out.” Tristan ran a hand through his hair, damp with moisture as if he showered moments before she arrived. “Actually, I wasn’t sure if you’d even show. I thought your definite-maybe was just an April Fool’s joke.”
Joy bit her lip, leaving out her similar concern over the silly holiday threat. “I wasn’t sure either. I mean…I wanted to see you. But I don’t know how this’ll work. Friends with benefits.”
“Ya know what, just forget about that.” Tristan waved his palm as if erasing the past. “I don’t know what I was thinkin’. The guys at the bar filled my head with crap about why you didn’t call me and how chicks don’t dig dudes with beards. Then I saw you—saw how you looked at me—and I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to say nothing and let the opportunity to see you again pass without at least trying.”
“You consider it an opportunity to see me.” Joy’s smile bloomed. His words were like a bandage on her broken heart, a warm blanket to her soul that had been cold and lonely since her love life hit the skids. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone made her feel so special.
“Of course. What else would you call it?” he asked with an innocence that left Joy no room to doubt his words.
Still, she shrugged as her logical head and reckless heart waged a silent struggle over her weakening willpower.
Tristan narrowed his eyes in scrutiny. “You don’t think I’m serious, do you?”
Again she shrugged, afraid if she opened her lips she might lunge at him, seeking the kiss she craved.
“I’m not a player, Joy.” He edged closer.
“I-I…uhh…never said you were.” She tripped over her words, taking a step back, nearly tumbling over the dogs.
He caught her wrist so she couldn’t get away. “I wouldn’t lead you to believe I was interested in you if I wasn’t. Trust me—I know just how much divorce sucks. When everything was said and done, I swore I’d never get involved with another woman ever again—”
Joy tugged her hand to get away, but Tristan held on tight. Sure, she could break free with a swift knee to his groin, but she wasn’t in danger, and, to be honest, she wanted to believe him, needed to believe him. There was no way a man could make her feel so good if his intentions were truly bad. The real issue had nothing to do with Tristan’s good intentions but everything to do with Joy’s readiness to fall in love again.
“Not unless she was worth it.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “And you, sunshine, are worth your weight in antimatter.”
“Huh?” She lifted her chin at his odd evaluation.
“Did you know antimatter is the most expensive thing on earth? It’s more valuable than LSD and diamonds ’cause it’s so hard to find.” He released his grip on her as he fumbled with his words. “I saw something about it on the Science Channel.” His hands squeezed the backrest of a wrought iron barstool as if trying to bend the coiled metal. “Oh, never mind.”
“That’s interesting. And flattering. No one’s ever compared me to antimatter, or LSD, or diamonds before.”
“That was dumb to say. I shoulda just compared you to diamonds.”
“Well…” Joy smiled, capturing his fingers before he reshaped the backrest. “The fact that you think I’m in the ranks of diamonds is pretty incredible.” She put his hands on her hips and curled her arms around his waist.
Kissing her neck, he breathed against her ear, “You’re incredible.”
Behind the zipper of his jeans, a familiar firmness pressed against Joy’s belly. “And you’re…” Rock hard. “You’re…” She inhaled his pheromonal aroma, getting love-drunk off his potent scent. The well of desire she’d thought dried up during her marriage started to trickle between her thighs, and she hadn’t even sipped the wine yet so she couldn’t blame her wantonness on the booze. Aroused beyond self-control, instinct and intrigue had her rubbing against him in response. “You’re a thoughtful host,” she purred for a lack of anything clever to say. “Either that, or you’re trying really hard to make me and Rex feel welcome.”
“Rex is always welcome in my home. So are you. You know that, don’t you?” He tugged her ponytail, tilting her head to view her eyes.
When Tristan licked his bow-shaped lips, Joy couldn’t resist planting a soft, closed kiss on them, and pulled back to check his reaction.
“Hey, now…” His mischievous smirk reached those starry blue eyes, more heavenly than the dusky sky. “You sure are a go-getter, aren’t cha, sunshine?”
Driven by her overloaded libido, she batted her lashes. “I guess what they say is true.”
“What’s that?”
“When a girl sees what she wants, she can’t help herself.” The bold words were a surprise to her ears. Without a second thought, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down, sucking his kiss, his breath, his energy, until they folded onto the hardwood floor.
Tristan cradled her neck in the crook of his elbow. Matched her kiss and took it further, swirling his tongue against hers. Nibbled her lips. Her chin. The tender spot at her throat. “Ya still living with your folks?” he murmured.
“Unfortunately,” she gasped, helpless under his spell.
“Stay with me,” he whispered between gentle pecks along her neck. “You need a place. And I got a spare room. Plus I’d enjoy the pleasure of good company. It’s a win-win all around.”
Yes. Joy silenced her sex drive before shooting off her mouth and shook her head no. “That’s not such a good idea.” She refused to lift her lids, stuck between the bliss of his kiss and the fear he’d see the truth in her lying eyes.
“Really?” He put his nose to hers so there was no way to avoid eye contact.
“Um…” Unprepared for his startling invitation, she had no plausible fib to fall back on. “No.”
“Then stay.” His gaze mirrored the tenderness of his plea.
“I can’t. It’s not right.”
“Says who?”
Joy shrugged.
“Just stay until you find a place. I’ll see what Nick has for rent. I shoulda thought of it sooner. I woulda, if you called me.”
“I didn’t mean to blow you off, Tristan, really. I just didn’t know if getting involved with you was the right thing—”
He cut her off with a soft kiss before she had time to close her eyes, and he kept his open too, watching her watch him. His tongue made love to her mouth. Deep, warm, connected. A sensual, soul-binding kiss that melted her inside out. Nothing was more intoxicating than a good, knee-weakening kiss from the right man—thank God she was already lying on the floor.
“Does this feel wrong to you?”
Before she could answer, Tristan had her sweater off and the blouse unbuttoned with a single hand. With the other hand supporting her, he managed to unclasp her bra. Lust filled his eyes, scanning her face to her bare breasts, and his fingers followed the invisible line from her throat to her belly button.
Joy’s chest heaved, anticipating his next move.
When he lowered his head to drop a torturing trail of kisses from one straining nipple to the other, she gasped in delight. Her words were MIA, otherwise she’d scream: Finally. Yes. Please. More.
Instead, she hung on for the ride as he eased her back against the cool wood floor. He popped the button of her jeans and it ricocheted off the wall with a plink before bouncing away. She raised her hips as he slipped them down, along with her panties, self-control, and inhibitions.
Still fully dressed, Tristan positioned himself between her knees, aiming face-first toward the top of her thighs.
“What’re you doing?” Joy pushed him off but his weight was too much to budge.
“Whaddaya think?” He chuckled as he peeled off his leather jacket and tucked it under her head, then dove down and kissed her there just as he’d done above the waist. A master of the art, he combined all the sensual tricks of the trade—suckling, nibbling, gnawing, working her into a tizzy with his magical mouth.
Finally she surrendered and her blurry eyes fluttered shut.
But the beautiful bliss didn’t last long once her cellphone rang a recognizable tone from her purse. “Tsk. It’s my mother.”
Tristan lifted his head, mouth glistening as he smiled from between her knees. “You really want me to stop so you can answer it?”
“Nooo,” she heaved. “I don’t want you to stop. Ever.”
The intruding sound ceased, but Joy couldn’t get it out of her head, even with Tristan’s tongue lapping her into a frenzy. There must be an emergency if her mother stopped playing bingo to make a phone call.
“Wait—” She grabbed fistfuls of his hair and tugged hard enough to separate his head from her crotch. “I gotta know what she wants. My dad had a heart attack a few months ago so when she calls I can’t help but think the worst.”
“Gotcha.” He rolled off easily, swiping his lips with his sleeve.
She sprung to her feet, grabbed her bag off the stool, and dug deep to the bottom. If her mother learned to text, Joy wouldn’t have to wait for the whole voicemail to play. She listened to the message with one eager eye on Tristan as he slipped off the tie and coiled it neatly around his fist. “I had a headache so I left bingo early. On your way home, pick up half-and-half for your father’s coffee in the morning.”
While he unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, his eyes widened with concerned curiosity. “Everything okay?”
Joy nodded as her mother yammered in her ear. “How’d it go with the apartment? You still there or are you done yet? What time’ll you be home? What’re you doing that you can’t answer the phone? Call me when you get this message. Love you. Be careful.”
“Everything’s fine. I need to pick up coffee creamer on my way home tonight.”
“Hmmm. That sounds like a clever insurance policy so you won’t pull another all-nighter.” He headed in her direction, shrugging out the shirt like a slow strip tease.
God, how can he think of getting sexy while talking about her mother? But instead of taking off his undershirt too, he slipped his shirt around Joy’s shoulders.
“Wanna take a quick ride to the store now and drop it off so your folks can rest easy? Get your little errand out of the way so we have the rest of the night to play.” He waggled his eyebrows.
“Not really.” She buttoned it from the top down, then cuffed the long sleeves.
“Come on…” He picked her clothes off the floor, put the flimsy blouse, sweater, and underwear on the counter, and handed her the pants. “You’re seriously not planning on spending the night here?”
“What kinda question is that? Of course I didn’t come here with the intention of sleeping over. I just figured we’d spend some time together, not the whole night.”
“Oh. Okay.” Tristan nodded, but the pained look on his face made Joy think he wasn’t okay.
“Look, Tristan. I like you. I really do. Friends-with-benefits isn’t for me. I was married for ten years to the second guy I ever kissed. Dating was never my area of expertise. When I met you, and we did what we did, I don’t know what I was thinking to do such a risky thing with a man I didn’t even know.”
“So, what’re you saying?” His fading smile flat-lined. “You regret being with me?”
“Not at all. I just didn’t plan on anything other than living in that moment. After Victor and I split up, I used to say crazy things to make myself feel better, about how I wasn’t gonna invest my time committing to anyone.”
“Are you tryin’ to make me feel better? Or worse?” Tristan retreated behind the counter, putting the granite slab between them. He might as well be a million mental miles away and Joy wasn’t sure she could reel him back.
“Let me finish. I talked a big game about how I was gonna go out with a bunch of different guys, like trying on new shoes.”
“I don’t wanna keep a girl from an extensive shoe collection. I mean, you can never have enough shoes—right?”
“Stop, Tristan. I said all those things before I met you. Then I did what I did with you. And no, it wasn’t a mistake. Not at all. You made me realize I don’t wanna try on a lot of shoes. I’m happy with one pair.”
“I doubt any girl would be happy with one pair of shoes.” A quick smirk appeared but he stiffened his lips, killing the potential smile. Still, she took it as a hopeful sign.
“I realized I’m not a one-night stand kinda girl.” With each word Joy inched around the bar, leaving him no place to go unless he hopped over the countertop. “I like the idea of being with one man. I like the idea of knowing what comes next. I like security. And I like you. But I don’t wanna put that kind of pressure on you. You’ve got your own issues. Your own ex-wife and ex-life.” Close enough to touch him, she kept her hands to herself because she wasn’t sure if he wanted her after unleashing her honesty. “This thing between us, I don’t know what you call it, but I want it. I do. I’m just…I’m not sure if now’s the right time for us.”
“Aww, sunshine.” Tristan shook his head as if looking at the most pitiful puppy in the window. “Come ’ere.” He pulled her head to his chest. “You think too much. Anyone ever tell you that?”
Swaying together, Joy tried shaking her head yes, but he held it so firm all she could do was listen to his heart beating as rapid as her own. Maybe it’s time for an anxiety pill or two. Or just a glass of wine. No. No alcohol. That was how she wound up in his bed the first night.
“How ’bout this? I’ve got some milk in the fridge. We can drop it off—”
“Half-and-half,” she clarified.
“Okay. We’ll stop at the mini-mart for half-and-half, drop it off to your folks, then we’ll come back here to finish our date with ice cream sundaes and a movie on cable.”
“That sounds like a great idea…except I didn’t tell my folks I was going out with you tonight. I lied and said I was looking at an apartment.”
“Is being with me a problem for them?”
“No. Not at all. You’re perfect. Me being with anyone is a problem in their minds ’cause I should be setting up a nest for my boys, not hooking up with the best catch in town.”
“You think I’m a catch?”
She rolled her eyes and chuckled. “Duh.” Does he not really know his own worth? “Let’s just say, to a pescetarian, you’d be the motherlode of catches. I don’t give my folks too much information about my personal life because my ex talks to my mother and the last thing I need is him knowing my business.”
“Gotcha.” Tristan’s firm nod was a good indicator that he understood completely, from one divorcee to another. “We’ll pick up where we left off another night.”
After finishing the cheese, fruit, crackers, and only a few sips of wine since she planned on driving, they walked their dogs around the block twice before he escorted her to the Jag once she kissed her pooch on the head and left him snuggling with Cookie in the living room.
“You sure you don’t want the shirt back?” Joy hoped not because the woven fabric arousing her bare breasts was the perfect keepsake.
“Wear it to sleep and dream of me.”
“I’ll dream of you anyway, without the shirt,” Joy teased in a husky drawl.
“Oooh, that’s kinda freaky-deaky, sleepin’ topless on your parent’s couch, thinking of me. I don’t know how I feel about that. I’m not the kinky kinda guy.”
“Tsk.” She gave him a playful back hand to the belly. “I didn’t mean it like that, you perv.”
“The offer still stands, ya know.” His voice dropped an octave and a seriousness slipped into his tone. He tilted his head and locked eyes with her. “My spare room with a full-sized bed versus your parents’ couch. Think it over, seriously.”
“I will.”
“Meanwhile, don’t worry about Rex, he’ll be fine.”
Remorse seeped into her smile, killing her good mood. “I don’t feel right leaving him here. You’re sure it’s no problem he stays with you and Cookie? I’d put him in a kennel until I find a place but I don’t have the heart, and I can’t stomach hearing my mother complain about him.”
“It’s fine, Joy. And if nothing else, it’s a little assurance you’ll be back.” He winked.
“I’ll swing by to spend time with him whenever I can. Plus, on payday, I’ll give you money toward his kibble and treats.”
“How’s tomorrow?”
“I don’t get paid ’til Friday.”
“I mean, come over tomorrow. After work. We’ll finish what we started before our night got derailed.” The bright streetlight outlined Tristan’s features with an ethereal glow, and Joy cupped his smooth cheek, absorbing his warmth, ensuring he was real and not some figment of her wishful thinking.
A heart-aching sigh escaped her lips, and it took all her effort to deflect the urge to linger a little longer for no reason except to stare at his magnificent face. It had taken all her adult life to find the right man, yet she hadn’t found the courage to do what she wanted most, which was to stay.
Like a carousel of guilt, visions of her parents, her boys, and her ex replayed in her head. “I really oughta go.”
When he leaned in for a kiss, it was like touching lips with an angel. Could he be the answer to her prayers? Maybe. Hopefully. A strange stirring in her soul said he was everything she needed in a companion and more. A mediocre night’s sleep on the lumpy couch should help her see things clearly.
Tristan opened the driver’s door, obstructing her path as if he didn’t want to let her go.
Joy skirted his big body to slide behind the wheel. He shut her door as she started the engine, and she rolled down the glass for a final farewell.
“Drive safe.” He reached through the open window to squeeze her hand. “Call me when you get home.”
Backing out of the driveway, she said, “I will.”