Was it wrong? Hell, yeah.
Did he care?
He wasn’t so sure about that one anymore.
After the evening news, Elaine had gone to bed but not before dropping a kiss onto his cheek. His face burned where she touched him.
“Thank you for today, Connor. It was the best day I’ve had in a long time.”
“I had a great day, too.”
“I wish you hadn’t spent so much money on the kids.”
“Elaine, how many times do I need to tell you I was happy to do it? You want me to be happy, don’t you?”
“Of course. I want you to be very happy. Anyway, thanks again. Have a good night.” She turned and walked down the hallway to her bedroom.
Despite her words, her face had been drawn. The guilt was weighing on her too. He could see it in her hesitant movements and stuttered words.
For the first time ever, she seemed awkward around him.
He felt it too. Here in Lloyd’s home with Lloyd’s wife and Lloyd’s kids sleeping in the next room, Connor had never felt so at home and yet so out of place. Talk about being a fifth wheel.
A part of him, the part ruled by his great cat, stalked and prowled, wanting to mark the walls of the house as a warning to other beasts. The animal sniffed her as much as possible. It was curious.
The other part, the man who loved Lloyd like a brother, was trying hard to convince himself he was just being nice or good or something close to honorable.
He hadn’t been very honorable when he was feeling her up at the mini putt.
He’d pushed Elaine out of his head for so long. When she returned from Alaska, it was as if she’d ridden in on a storm, whipping up clouds of confusion and longing. It had taken hold of him quickly, shaking him and changing him.
He liked her; he had to admit it. He liked her a lot and always had.
He wasn’t sure how much longer he could ignore it.
His dick throbbed, sitting uncomfortably in his jeans. He adjusted himself, but it didn’t help. What he really needed was an attitude adjustment.
He stared at the TV, but his thoughts kept drifting to Elaine and her hips.
“Fuck,” he mumbled. “Go to bed.” Maybe he’d think clearly in the morning.
Tired of trying to concentrate on late-night infomercials, he clicked off the television and shut off the light.
Since that first night, he’d been bedding down on the couch. As comfy as it was, it now felt as if there were rocks sewn into the plush fabric. He tossed and turned and tossed some more.
Although Connor fought sleep, it eventually claimed him.
Unfortunately, his sleep brought strange dreams and no respite from the sexual torture of the day.
Elaine was there in his dream. So were the kids. They all danced among gray clouds that obscured Connor’s vision.
Lloyd was there, too.
His old friend, looking very much healthy and alive, poked his head out from behind the clouds, as if playing a game of peek-a-boo.
Connor waved his hands, trying to dispel the mist. “Lloyd, is that you? I can’t see you.”
“It doesn’t mean I’m not here.”
