Aiken
Icouldn’t say the weekend was bad.
If hard-pressed to answer, I’d have said it was fucking great.
Saturday, we worked like I’d suggested, next to each other at the coffee place, sipping hot drinks and exchanging intimate glances.
Then we ran on Sunday morning and cooked dinner in Claire’s kitchen that evening.
After eating, I stood at the sink and did the dishes while she let Smitty out. Tossing back the rest of my Chianti, I looked out the window and found Claire staring up at the sky. Her body still, she was mesmerized by something. I tried to get a better look, but the window casing blocked my view. I thought about heading out but quickly changed my mind. Claire was the type of woman who needed some space, and I needed to give it.
Allowing her to have her moment, I went back to scrubbing the pot from Claire’s Sunday gravy, which, by the way, was fucking fantastic.
This woman could cook.
“I’m back,” she said a few minutes later.
“I see that.” I turned off the water, turned around, and leaned against the counter. “Come here.”
She did, right into my arms, her soft curves meeting my hardness.
“You good?”
“Yeah, just needed a moment.”
“I figured. Want to talk about it?”
She shook her head. “It’s not much. Just, this weekend was nice. No, not nice. Great. And I was wondering who I needed to thank for letting me find you. Or you to find me. God, that’s so cheesy and probably sounds ridiculous coming from my mouth…a grown woman, like you say.”
My lips brushed her temple. My finger tilted her head so her gaze met mine. “Not in my book, Richards. Sounds fucking amazing to me. Say it again.”
“No.” She stood on the balls of her feet and planted a kiss on my lips. My mouth opened, allowing her tongue to enter. Her hand wrapped around my back and slid down to my ass. I didn’t last long before I scooped her over my shoulder and toted her upstairs. The kitchen counter would’ve been good, but having her spread out in front of me was better.
Way fucking better.
Claire was a stunning woman who I learned checked all the boxes for me, so when she blew me off on Monday and then again on Tuesday, it stung. Not a little bee sting, but like a fucking wasp. There was no salve for the hurt, except to see her.
“Hey.” I leaned back against my fence when she got home on Wednesday afternoon.
“Hey…I have to let Smitty out.”
“No problem.”
“Day good?” I asked when she wandered back outside with Smitty.
“It was. Last week of classes, and then a few weeks until fall session.”
Her answer was clipped and curt, but it wasn’t from anger. Rather, fear.
Stepping away from my post, I walked toward her. “You worried you’ll have too much time on your hands?”
She hugged herself, her arms wrapping around each other, and I watched a shiver travel through her body despite the heat and humidity surrounding us.
“Claire, talk to me. You blew me off the last two days, and I know you’re busy, and I’m a patient man, but come on. Give me something here.”
She gave me her back. Smitty sat by my side, and I patted his head and took in Claire from behind, left in a white tank after shedding the blazer she’d had on, waves of black hair, hunched shoulders.
“I guess I’m afraid you’ll go too. I didn’t realize how much I missed having someone to talk to,” she said into the evening, her back still facing me. “In the early days, David and I were close. We’d talk, have fun. Then, when he left, I made Abby my world. So much so, I couldn’t wait for a few hours of peace when she went to the concert.”
