“But this furniture is nice. And probably expensive.”
That it was. “I can hand it down to my sister. She’ll be graduating soon. She’ll need it in her new place when she moves back.” Not that she’ll want mine, but something tells me Willa needs to know this furniture won’t just get thrown away.
“Oh.” Willa nods. “That’s so nice of you.”
“My sister is important to me. I’ll always make sure she’s got what she needs.”
Willa’s eyes get glassy. I quickly wrap my arms around her. “Don’t cry, Willa.”
“Sorry.” She sniffles. “I’m just a bit emotional right now.”
“I get it.” Kissing her head, I release her from my arms. “I’m going to see what I can scrounge us up for dinner.” We didn’t finish the pizza or the junk food from the ballpark. We brought it home with us, but I think Willa needs something more nutritional. I know this because I saw the ramen packages in her garbage can. I think that’s all she’s been eating for a while.
I make my way into my kitchen and open the fridge door. My housekeeper, Mary, does an amazing job at keeping my cupboards, fridge, and freezer stocked. “Do you like chicken?”
She’s sitting at a stool at the kitchen island. “Yes.”
With the package of chicken breast in one hand and a platter of vegetables already sliced and diced, I ask, “Chicken stir fry?”
“That sounds amazing.” She watches as I pull out oil and seasonings from a cupboard. “So, you can cook?”
“Easy stuff.”
“Can I help?”
I look down at the ingredients. “I think it’s all ready to go. Just sit there and talk to me while I cook.” Turning, I pull out a bottle of white wine and hold it up for her to see. “Glass of sauvignon blanc?”
“I’ve never had that kind.” She smiles. “I’ll try it.”
Placing the glass in front of her, I sip from mine. “Now, watch the master chef at work, beautiful.”
A lovely laugh tinkles in the air, giving me a chill. A good one.
* * *
“Wow, Hudson. That was delicious.”
“Thank you.” I didn’t do a terrible job. It wasn’t hard since Mary, my housekeeper, left the directions on the counter. I tucked those away so Willa couldn’t see I was cheating. For some reason, I want her to think I can do anything.
I’ll confess later. Right now, I’ve got her snuggled up to me on my sofa. It’s gotten dark outside, but there are lights from ships and other vessels floating around on the lake. We’re still sipping our wine. Actually, between the two of us, we’ve finished off the bottle. I think Willa might be a bit tipsy.
How do I know?
It’s not because she’s slurring her words, nope. It’s because she’s running her hand up and down my thigh and talking. A lot. She’s told me several humorous stories about Barney, one about Bonnie and her sexy dreams, and she’s even reminisced about the time she went to a Bears game with her dad. One where he got into a shouting match with a Green Bay Packer’s fan. A Packer’s fan that started it. She ended up with ketchup and mustard on her face when the Packer’s fan threw a hotdog at her father.
“Did he kick their ass?”
“No.” She giggles. “He pulled out his badge and flashed it saying, ‘That’s assault. You want to do this downtown, asshole?’ The guy sat down pretty fast. My dad got a loud round of applause from everyone around us.”
“How old were you?”
“Ten or eleven.”
By the time she finished that story, my dick is so hard from her hand moving over me that I almost escaped to the bathroom to take care of it.
Honestly, I don’t think she realizes the affect she has on me. I’m tempted to pull her hand up so she can feel for herself, but the last thing I want to do is scare her away.
She’s quiet now. Quiet enough to worry me. “What’s wrong?”
