Текст книги "Middle of Knight"

Автор книги: Jewel E. Ann

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

“That went well.”

Gunner did another head tilt. He had her back, licked her tears, and never once complained. Maybe she needed to take Maddie to obedience school too.

Chapter Three

Jillian meandered home after leaving Dodge and Lilith’s. She wasn’t ready to go inside and deal with Jackson, the second text, and the ramifications of AJ’s diagnosis. Choosing the temporary sanctuary of the front porch stoop, she plopped down and watched her neighbors grilling out and tending to their yards and plants. The breeze ebbed and flowed, carrying the smoky aroma of Stan’s charcoal grill and the droning screech of cicadas.

A small part of her waited for AJ to come home, which was ridiculous because she had no idea what to say to him. Maybe if she could see him, fall into his arms, the right words would come to her. If only he could feel the conflict that warred inside of her, he’d realize that her past didn’t matter. Maybe. If only. But doubtful.

“Hey, kiddo. Did you look over the notes and the profit and loss statement?” Stan asked, hobbling his way up her driveway, shoulders slumped, sweat dripping from his brow, and muddy gardening knee pads still strapped to his legs. The guy never stopped working.

“I did.” Briefly.

“Anything we could improve on?”

“You spend too much money on snow removal. Granted, I’m not from around here, but I have a feeling your plow guys show up the second there’s a light dusting in the middle of the night. Then there’s the insane amount of money going toward insurance. When lightning struck the Dickson’s house and caused damage to the roof, that was a legitimate claim for the association’s policy. But the most recent claim from the kitchen fire started by the Anderson’s college-aged daughter, who doesn’t even live there? That should have been a claim for their personal homeowner’s insurance.”

“Well, we try not to discriminate.”

“I think the association needs to worry less about discrimination and more about taking it up the backside. It’s okay to be neighborly at picnics, but when you’re responsible for people’s money, you have to treat it like a business and have guidelines and boundaries in writing.”

Stan nodded. “I’ll talk to Dodge about it.” He seemed a bit disappointed in her opinion.

“Sorry if that’s not what you wanted to hear, but you asked my honest opinion.”

“No, no … that’s fine. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot like that. It’s not like this is your area of expertise.”

Yes, it was. But he would never know that.

After Stan left, she lay back on the warm concrete stoop, letting the setting sun hit her face. Everything she shared with Lilith replayed like a highlight reel to her favorite movie. Since AJ went AWOL, Luke filled the empty void—which was ironic because up until that point, her entire existence as Jillian Knight felt like one big Luke-shaped void.

*

Day

Jessica awoke alone and naked from what had to be a dream. Restraints. Tears. Love. Sex—the best sex ever. Covering her face with a pillow, she grumbled into it, “Please tell me it wasn’t a dream.”

“It wasn’t a dream.”

“Jones!” She bolted up, tossing the pillow to the floor.

“Good morning.” The god of all gods stood in the doorway with a towel wrapped around his waist, wet hair, sexy smile.

“Hi,” she breathed. “You stayed.”

“I stayed … on the couch.”

Her eyes wandered along his body with her breath held captive. The mark on his shoulder wasn’t new. It was from Long Beach. “Turn around.”

He shook his head. “You didn’t make me bleed.”

On a slow exhale, she extinguished her nerves. She’d had sex with him, more than once. He’d released her from the restraints, and she didn’t. Make. Him. Bleed.

“You’re not cured.”

She nodded. “But it’s a step.”

The sexy lips she craved curled into a hint of a smile. “A small step.”

“I’m better for you.”

“You’re better with me.”

She squinted at him with her brow tensed. “I’m like a dog that’s well behaved with its owner.”

His teeth peeked through his growing smile as a soft chuckle vibrated from his chest. “I’m not sure you’ll ever be ‘well behaved.’”

Everything about him captivated her. The vulnerability she felt under his control nearly broke her. It wouldn’t matter how many blankets covered her body or layers of clothing concealed her nudity, she would forever feel stripped naked in his presence.

“I have to get home and change for work.”

The lilac sheet slipped from her breasts. “Could I convince you to stay?”

He looked at her bared chest. No hesitation. No guilt. She was so completely his. He knew it and she knew it.

“Yes, but my patients would be grateful if you didn’t.”

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Make me surrender without taking my sense of control.”

He dropped his towel and stepped into his jeans. “Surrendering is the ultimate control.”

“Now you’re just messing with me, Jones.”

He buttoned his shirt. “Take a shower. Go to work. Be productive today and I’ll reward you later.”

“So I am your dog. Will we play fetch? I’m pretty good with a Frisbee.”

Luke tied his shoes. It thrilled her to see him struggle a little more every day to keep his smile hidden. “I’ll pick you up around seven.”

“Seven-thirty. I’m teaching class until seven.”

“Class?”

“Self-defense.”

He nodded, giving her a thoughtful look. “The battered women’s shelter?”

“Yep.”

“Seven-thirty then.”

“Hey!” she called as he began his escape. “That’s it?” She slid out of bed, baring her entire naked body to him. “No kiss goodbye?”

He looked back over his shoulder, puckered his lips, kissed the air then continued to the front door.

“Jones!” She jogged to catch up, stopping him before he opened the front door.

“Do you still love me?”

He sighed as if the sight of her naked body pained him. “I adore you.”

“You adore me? What? You no longer love me?”

Inspecting the choices on the coat tree, he grabbed a long gray sweater from it then wrapped it around her. She returned a single raised brow.

“People love chocolate, surfing, and their gold fish. Adoration is better … it means to both love and admire.”

The tough-as-nails woman melted into a teenaged girl for a bit. “You admire me?” Her voice softened in disbelief.

“I do.” He gave her a quick peck on the lips and pulled away as she began to lean in.

She shoved the sweater off her shoulders. “But you don’t admire my body?”

He made a swift move out the door. “I do … way too much,” he called as he fled down the stairs.

Her smile beamed with uncontrollable delight from his adoration confession. “He thinks I’m adorable.” That smile faded to a frown as she ran to her window and slid it open. “Dammit, Jones!”

He looked up a second before closing the door to his GTO.

“It was another dog reference. Puppies are adorable.” She scowled.

Luke shook his head, a big grin plastered to his handsome face as he shut the door.

“God, he’s adorable.” Jessica giggled as she made her way to the shower.

*

Jessica cursed the traffic and the tourist-filled cable cars that slowed her journey home. By the time she pulled into her single-car garage stall, the GTO that she adored sat parked in front of her place.

“Don’t mess with my heart, Jones. You’d better let me drive her tonight,” she murmured to herself while smiling at him with bared teeth.

“There’s my girl.” Luke grinned as she approached her front steps.

Did she like being “his girl?” Hell yes!

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his body, finding her lips and stealing her breath. She would never get used to Jones, Dr. Luke Jones, looking at her with those seductive blue eyes, pulling her into that sexy body, and kissing her with those lips that she’d coveted for so long.

When her knees gave out, he released her lips but kept her close to the hard planes of his chest.

“Let me run and change. Wait for me in the passenger seat.”

“Nice try.” He followed her up the steps.

After a quick change they were off to Sausalito for dinner. Luke drove.

“This feels like our first official date.” Jessica winked, freeing the shiny utensils from the red cloth napkin.

“You’re not counting our blind date?” Luke asked.

Jessica smiled at the waiter serving her wine. “No. Although it was our first kiss.” She grinned with her teeth clenched together.

The unappreciative victim of that first kiss narrowed his eyes at her.

“Well it was.” She laughed. “So … is this a working dinner?”

“Working dinner?”

“Yes. More unofficial therapy?”

“No. That was yesterday. I can’t see you as my unofficial patient tonight.”

She sipped her wine. “Why not?”

“Because I have a date.”

Everything about the man personified perfection. How was that possible? And why was he with arguably the biggest disaster on the West Coast? “Mmm … yes, with that nice girl I told you about.”

He closed his menu. “You said she was a real catch.”

“Do you concur?”

“I do.”

“What are you doing this weekend?”

Luke shrugged. “That depends on how much cleaning you get done around my place tomorrow.”

“So you don’t have any real plans. Great. I want you to meet my family. I’m having tea with my mom at Samovar on Saturday morning, but maybe we could all have dinner or Sunday brunch.”

“I’d love to meet your family. How will you introduce me?”

“With my voice. ‘Mom and Dad, this is Jones. Jones these are my parents, Grant and Sunny.”

“Your mom’s name is Sunny Day? Not possible.” Luke laughed.

“It’s true. Says the firstborn of Tom Jones. Anyway, we kid my dad that she married him just for his name. She lives up to her name too. I think I’ve heard her swear once, and even then it was when she was quoting someone else. Hands down, I have the most optimistic, laid-back mom in the world. She’s walking zen.”

“So you didn’t get her zen genes?”

Jessica laughed. “Astute observation, Dr. Jones. No, I have my father’s personality—a total firecracker. He doesn’t do anything in the middle. When he’s mad it’s a raging inferno and when he’s happy it’s like glitter exploded everywhere. When we work on cars and motorcycles in his garage he’s either singing his favorite song like the next American Idol contestant, or if something’s not going right he’s slinging wrenches and cussing up a storm. You’ll like him, just don’t mention that you drink imported beer. He exclusively drinks locally brewed beer.”

They gave the waiter their orders, including another glass of wine and another imported Heineken.

“My roommate in college committed suicide.” Luke stared at his beer as he rolled the empty green bottle back and forth in his hands. “He was born in Amsterdam and he exclusively drank Heineken, which I’m sure he considered a local beer.” Luke’s smile looked pained. “Anyway, after he died I started drinking Heineken. It makes me think of him when I drink it, like a silent toast to him wherever he is.”

That had to be what Luke’s dad started to tell Jessica. She knew it was a small piece and there had to be more to the story. A painful more.

“Well then I toasted your roommate over and over last night before you showed up and tied me to my bed. Of course I navigated to the Heineken because of you.”

Luke nodded, taking an extra few seconds to resurface from his past before locking eyes with her again. “So tell me about Jude. Is he a firecracker too?”

Jessica laughed so fast she snorted. “Jetta boy? No. He’s a very unique breed. He’s a hair trigger when it comes to self-defense type situations, and he’s kinda paranoid—the conspiracy theory type—but he’s definitely Sunny’s boy too.

She sipped her wine. A smile tugged at her lips. “When he’s in his element, aka in front of a computer or preying on every woman in the Bay area, he’s Cool Joe, laid back, ‘I don’t need pot to be this chillin’.’ And the women fall at his feet like he’s a god. The truth is he’s such a man whore, but the weird part is he doesn’t have a following of disgruntled women. It’s as if they know they’re only going to get one night with him, but they still line up to willingly drop their panties and spread their legs. Pathetic.”

“Thank God my sisters don’t live around here.”

“They’d be safe. Jude likes older women—smart, older women. He said it’s hard to fuck a woman’s brain out if she doesn’t actually have a brain.”

Luke smirked.

Jessica quirked a brow. “His words not mine.”

They enjoyed a sunset dinner by the bay, revealing bits of each other one tragic or funny story at a time. Hand-in-hand they strolled toward the GTO parked in a lot with a backdrop of sailboat masts and the sunlight on the water’s surface, reflecting diamond-studded whitecaps. Contentment settled upon them like they’d done it for years.

“I want to take you to my place. I have a surprise for you.” Luke leaned over and kissed her as they waited at a stop light.

“What is it?”

“Do I need to define the word surprise?”

“Ugh … fine, but give me a hint. I like this game.”

Luke laughed. “Contumacious.”

“I’m not being stubbornly disobedient. Okay, maybe a little stubborn, but not disobedient. Thank you once again for the dog reference.”

“Well there you have it.”

Jessica looked at him, eyes narrowed. “Have what?”

“You’ll see.”

“It’s an apron isn’t it? I bet you’re going to have me dress up in a kinky little French maid’s outfit to clean your place tomorrow, aren’t you?”

Luke adjusted in his seat a bit. “Um … no that’s not the surprise, but I’m not going to lie, I like your idea.”

“I love that, Jones. The hard-ass, no humor doctor role you play has appeared in many of my fantasies, argyle socks and all. But you in this car, getting turned on by the thought of me in a French maid’s outfit—reminding me that you are all guy—it’s the absolute-nothing-else-compares best.” She leaned her head back on the head rest, closed her eyes, and smiled in total contentment.

“So now wouldn’t be the best time to wake you from your dream state and confess that I’m gay?”

She laughed. “It happens, Jones. I think it’s almost impossible to live in San Francisco and not question your sexual orientation. Yet another thing I love about this city. It opens its arms to everyone. We’re all just … human.”

He pulled into his garage space, killed the engine, and stared at her like he was somehow seeing her for the first time.

“What?” She wrinkled her nose, sliding her tongue along her teeth in case she had a piece of spinach stuck to one.

He rested his arm on the back of her seat and threaded his fingers through her hair, cupping the back of her head. “When we first met, my biggest fear was you would never feel ‘normal’ again.”

“And now?”

“And now I fear you will, and for some reason that feels tragic to me.”

She leaned into his touch. “I think we both know that’s not possible. Now … about this big surprise—”

“It’s not a big surprise … not yet anyway.” He climbed out and rushed around to open her door.

“Why thank you, sir.” She placed her hand in his and he led her up to his condo.

“Wait out here.”

“Sweeping the joint for your Tumblr followers?”

“Funny. But seriously, don’t come in until I tell you.” He shut the door, leaving her in the hallway.

Her smile grew with each passing second, not from the surprise. The man of her dreams and his adoration for her owned that smile, but … she did love surprises.

“Okay, open the door,” he called from the other side.

Her whole body shivered with giddiness. She opened the door. Luke squatted down next to a pudgy little Great Dane puppy—white with irregular black spots.

“Oh my gosh!” She hunched down as the puppy waddled over to her. Jessica picked him up and hugged him to her. “I love it … her … him?”

“Him.” Luke stood with a smile that showed his pleasure with her reaction and probably himself as well.

“You got me a puppy? No one has ever done something like this for me before,” she spoke with the classic high-pitched puppy/baby voice. Holding the puppy out in front of her, she continued to baby talk it a few inches from its face. “What am I going to name you, huh?”

“He already has a name.”

“Oh really?”

Luke moved closer to her and took the puppy, holding it with one hand and petting it with his other. “Yes, I already named him.”

“Please tell me it’s not Spot.” She leaned in and kissed its head.

“No … it’s Jones.”

Chapter Four

Knight

With the arrival of Tuesday came an agglomeration of nerves sparked by a lethal mix of hormones and the anticipation of seeing Father Jackson Knight. Ryn’s dormant sex life didn’t help matters, neither did Jillian saying he would like her. Why would he like her? Perhaps there was a shortage of young perfect-bodied women in Omaha.

She knocked on the door, hoping Jillian would answer. Ryn deemed it best to ease into Jackson’s intensity. No such luck. His Holiness appeared before her, inviting her into the gates of Heaven. Granted, she was there to tidy up the grounds of eternity, but hey, it was Heaven and that’s all that mattered.

“Ryn Middleton.” He made her name sound dirty with a wicked smile on his face while his eyes moved along her body.

It evoked all kinds of feelings: good, bad, and maybe even sinful. What was the punishment for tempting a man of God? The makeup she decided to apply at the last minute may have been a bad idea. She sucked at subtle. Everything about her said lonely, sex-deprived, and easy.

Her shorts felt extra short under his gaze as she flexed the muscles in her legs, hoping it would tighten the appearance of her skin that had lost some of its elasticity. Forty would suck.

“Jackson … or … is it okay if I call you that?” Ryn wasn’t Catholic. Did he expect her to address him as Father Knight?

He gave her a funny look, his smile still beaming with intensity. “Jackson is fine.” He stepped aside and let her in.

“No lesson today?” She headed straight to the first bathroom. Nothing good could come from standing around looking at him.

“No. I rescheduled my Tuesday afternoon students.” He followed her.

“Oh, I hope not on my account. I clean quietly with the exception of vacuuming.”

“It was no big deal. Now you don’t have to worry about being quiet. It’s just the two of us.”

She pulled on her gloves. “Oh … okay.”

Just the two of them and she didn’t have to be quiet. Why was her mind in the gutter?

“Do you want me to turn on some music for you?”

She scrubbed the toilet bowl. “Uh … sure.”

“What type of music do you like?”

She glanced back at him. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Her gaze stuck to his tattoos. “Whatever. Classical, gospel, piano … or even organ music if you prefer.”

“So, no alternative, rock and roll, or rap?”

She wiped her brow with her arm and continued scrubbing. He brought the room temperature up a good ten degrees with the mix of his presence and the third-degree questioning.

“No, I try to avoid anything that’s not … up lifting. Most songs on the radio these days are all about sex and other, um … sinful stuff.” Her favorite song in high school was George Michael’s “I Want Your Sex.” If he didn’t hurry up and leave, she’d pass out from the heat or confess her sins and beg for forgiveness. Ideally, she just wanted to keep her dignity, clean their house, and get the hell or heck out of there.

“So you’re religious?”

No. She stopped going to church when she got pregnant out of wedlock. “I’m a believer.” It was true, even if she no longer possessed a certainty of those beliefs. Everyone believed in something.

“I have a shitload of scripture in my head that’s been drilled into me over the years. Sorry, I meant a lot … not a shitload. Hope I didn’t offend you.”

She tipped her chin down to bite back a smile. “No offense taken. I’m sure you’re more than covered in the area of forgiveness for that minor sin.”

“Are you and your husband originally from Nebraska?”

Her body stiffened. Even then, years later, the word husband made her flinch.

“I’m … not married.” Divorce elicited scowls of disapproval in the religious world, she’d save that topic for later or preferably never. “And I’m originally from Atlanta.”

“I see, well … I’ll let you do your thing. Maybe I’ll just play the piano. Any requests?”

She shrugged. “Surprise me.”

*

The woman who could be a game changer wasn’t married. That was good, but her anti-sex, gospel-music-playing personality presented a bit more of a challenge than he anticipated. Jackson had committed to not being a man whore, but that didn’t mean he’d submitted his application for sainthood.

He played one classical piece after another, tracking her every move as she floated around scrubbing, dusting, mopping, and sweeping. She finished in the main room as if to not disturb him until she had no other choice. They smiled politely at each other as she dusted Black Beauty. God, he loved her eyes and the way she incessantly wet her lips if he stared too long.

She squatted down, disappearing beneath the piano. “I’m just dusting the legs and pedals … I uh, don’t want to you think I’m trying to do anything inappropriate here.”

He grinned. “I wouldn’t stop you if you were.”

“Ouch!” she seethed after a loud thump.

He leaned down to look at her. “Are you okay?”

Balancing on her knees and one hand while her other hand rubbed her head, she squinted her eyes a bit. He tried to focus on her head but the view down her shirt to her pink sports bra and just a tease of cleavage, which also had a smattering of freckles, enticed him in a sex-deprived way. By the time he tore his eyes away from her breasts, she stared at him in shock. Clearly, he’d offended her.

“Do you need an icepack?” He sat up with a guilty grimace. Jillian would kill him if their cleaning lady quit on the first day, claiming sexual harassment.

Ryn crawled out and stood, one hand still on her head, the other pressing the neck of her shirt firm to her chest. “I’ll be fine.” She focused on the floor, the ceiling, anywhere but him. “I’m going to run the vacuum and then I’ll be done.”

He relocated to the kitchen while she vacuumed. Time evaporated faster than his mind could conjure a plan. He had to think of something to say before she left and most likely would never come back.

Tick-tock, he grimaced with defeat as she shut off the vacuum and wound up the hose and cord.

“Mother fucking idiots!” Jillian grumbled, opening the front door.

Ryn’s eyes popped out of her head. Jackson closed his. He no longer needed to worry about being the responsible party for Ryn quitting. Jillian swooped in just in time to take that honor with her sailor’s tongue.

“Oh, hey, Ryn.” Jillian stepped inside, holding the screen door open with the backside of her body while she smacked the soles of her shoes together. “I hate it when they spread those stupid fertilizer pellets then takeoff without using a broom or blower on the driveway and sidewalk. Now they’re stuck like shit to the bottom of my shoes and if it rains they’ll discolor the cement.”

“Jill … not the best word choice.” He gave Ryn an apologetic look. She returned one that looked just as pained.

“Sorry, I always say that wrong. They’ll discolor the concrete … I know, cement is the powdered form. It’s like the whole itch versus scratch thing.” She shut the door and looked up. “So how’d it go today?”

Ryn forced a smile. “Fine. Look around after I leave and let me know if there’s something I missed or that you’d like me to do different next time.”

Jackson sighed with relief from the promise of next time.

“Thanks, Ryn.” Jillian held the door open. “Jesus, Jackson, don’t just stand there. Help her take her stuff out.”

“Oh yeah.” He jumped out of his daze and grabbed the other bucket and vacuum.

“Sorry about your head.” He handed her the rest of the supplies as she loaded everything into the back of her white RAV4.

“It was my fault.” She closed the back door and leaned against it with her arms trapped behind her. “You caught me off guard when you said…” she glanced up with a sheepish look “…what you did.”

Wearing a guilty half-smile, he shoved his hands into his pockets and shook his head. “Yeah, I was completely out of line.”

“It’s fine. I applaud you for your commitment. A vow of celibacy at your age must be difficult sometimes.”

Jackson bent down, cocking his head to bring his ear closer to her face. “What did you just say?”

“I said it must be difficult,” she answered with breathy words, eyes on his mouth.

“No, before that.” He squinted.

She mirrored his expression. “The part about me commending you for your commitment to God?”

“What commitment to God?”

Her eyes darted to one side and then the other before meeting his again. “Uh … the vow of celibacy.”

“Who told you about that?”

Ryn’s body sank until the bumper halted her descent. “Jillian,” she replied in a small voice.

“She told you I took a vow of celibacy?”

Ryn nodded as her nose scrunched.

“So you thought what? That I’m a priest or something?”

Another uncomfortable nod.

Jackson stepped back, giving her space. The dots connected themselves. “Tell me … did you go to church last weekend?”

Ryn shook her head, eyes wide.

“The weekend before that?”

Another shake.

Jackson chuckled. “Give me your keys.” He held out his hand.

“Why?”

“Just give them to me.”

She set them in his hand. Fear painted her face in crimson as he slid in the front seat and turned the key. The radio blared with Adam Levine complaining about the summer hurting like a motherfucker.

Ryn covered her face with her hands. Jackson stepped out and peeled them away. She kept her eyes set firm to the driveway.

“Doesn’t sound like gospel to me.”

She shook her head. “I’m so embarrassed.”

He bent down and whispered in her ear. “See you next week, my child.”

*

After a cold shower to relieve the flush of embarrassment and to temper her riled up libido, Ryn grabbed an iced tea, a good book, and planted her ass on her front porch swing with Gunner at her feet. The day would go down in history as: Ryn is An Idiot Day. Somewhere between graduating high school, getting pregnant, and marrying Satan, she lost her normalcy gene. Preston physically beat it out of her, leaving a wreckage of insecurity, fear, and social awkwardness like an abused animal whose tail never wagged.

“Hey, Ryn. How was your day?” her neighbor, Drew, asked as he walked up the sidewalk from his mailbox.

“I’ve had better,” she answered on a laugh.

Her handsome forty-something neighbor leaned against the railing to her porch steps. “Sounds like a story.”

She teased Gunner’s ear with her toes and smiled. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Shoot.”

“If not for religious reasons, why would a guy take a vow of celibacy?”

Drew chuckled, scratching his head then leaving his salt and pepper hair a bit ruffled. He was Dermot Mulroney’s twin, especially that sexy crooked smile.

“I thought maybe you were going to ask me why the clover seems to be taking over our lawns this year.”

“Yeah, that too, but first answer the celibacy question.” She grinned.

“Okay, well maybe the guy has STDs or he’s afraid of getting them. Maybe he has an unhealthy attachment to sex or …”

“Or what?”

A sadness stole Drew’s handsome features. “Maybe he lost a lover.” Cancer stole Drew’s wife a year earlier.

“Drew, I didn’t mean to—”

He shook his head. “You didn’t. It’s fine.” He shrugged one shoulder. “But it could be the reason.”

Ryn nodded. Could Jackson have lost a wife or girlfriend?

“Have a seat.” She stood and walked to the front door. “I’ll get you a beer.” Her lips twisted to the side as she looked at him. “Maybe two.”

A few minutes later, she returned with two bottles of beer.

“Thanks.”

Gunner waited until she sat down before resuming his spot at her feet.

“So you have a thing for a guy who’s taken a vow of celibacy?”

Ryn laughed. “He’s younger than me. I’m not sure it’s appropriate for me to have a thing for him.”

“So? My wife was almost ten years younger than me.”

“Really?” Ryn looked at him with wide eyes. “I never knew that. Then again when you moved here she was going through chemo and …”

“And the fucking poison stole her hair and eventually her life.”

“Yeah, that.” She frowned.

After a long pull of his beer, he sighed. “I was thirty-one when we met. She was my student when I taught an intro to business class at a community college.”

“Sounds scandalous.”

Drew chuckled. “Her parents were not happy. At our wedding when the minister asked who gives this woman, her dad just grunted.”

“No!”

“I’m serious. We were married five years before he stopped scowling at me.”

“That’s just it. I can’t imagine dating someone significantly younger than me. Not to be sexist, but I think older women dating younger men get more scowls than the other way around. Obviously your in-laws weren’t this way, but most people don’t think much of the older-man-younger-woman relationship these days.”

“So how young are we talking?” Drew asked.

Ryn smiled while taking a sip of her iced tea. “I don’t know. Thirty-ish? But I could be off and I don’t think in my direction. With my luck he’s in his mid-twenties and the perfect guy for Maddie.” She waved a dismissive hand. “It doesn’t matter. He’s celibate.” She laughed. “Of course I have been lately too.”

“When I turned forty my wife swore I had a midlife crisis. I swore forty was too young to be considered ‘midlife.’ We’d been trying to get pregnant but it just never happened. So I told her to quit her job—she was an accountant and hated it anyway—and we traveled the world for two years living like gypsies. We left our naked ass prints on many beaches.” Drew wiggled his brows.

Ryn laughed.

“We would have stayed longer, but that’s when they discovered her cancer. We were in France. I berated myself for being so reckless. Had we just stayed home, maybe they would have found it sooner. But she refused to regret any of it. She said my midlife crisis was the best two years of her life. She said she’d never felt so alive and we all deserve to feel that way at least once. After all, why the hell else are we here?”

Ryn loved that story. But what she loved the most was how many times Drew had told it to her. Each time it felt like the first, and each time he came up with a new moral.

“So you think I should leave my ass print on the beach.” She said that every time too, but it was never the moral.

“Exactly.”

Ryn gasped. “Seriously?”

Drew smiled and nodded, looking off into the sunset while sipping his beer. “Rob the cradle, have sex on the beach, and fucking embrace your forties. You’re at your prime, Ryn. What do you have to lose at this point?”