“But how do you feel?”
“Oh. Good. Thank you for asking. I’m so sorry about Hailey,” I added in a rush. “When she said she was doing the Green Gables challenge, I never imagined she would reenactthat scene from the book. But of course it’s exactly the sort of thing a teenager would do.”That I would do.“I should have known…I should have thought…”
“Hey, take it easy. Hailey doesn’t need your help to think up crazy stunts. I told her she wants to try anything else, she has to run it by a responsible adult first.” He smiled slightly. “Also, she’s grounded.”
I was confused. “I thought you’d blame me.”
“What the hell for?”
“Pulling some stupid stunt from a book. Real life isn’t fiction. You’d think I would know that by now. She could have drowned!”
“She didn’t. Because you were there.” The tightness in my throat eased. “You’re good for her,” Joe added quietly. “You got her out of her shell, out of the house. She’s acting like herself again. Because of you.”
I stared at him, surprised to find myself almost at the point of tears. So reassured. So grateful.
His lips quirked. “Can I come in?”
I stood aside, sweeping my arm to invite him inside. Too late, I noticed the trail of wet clothes leading to the bathroom. I scooped them up. Chris never said much about my live-in messes. But the way he’d navigated my apartment, like a cat picking through puddles after a rainstorm, told its own story.
I tossed my wet things onto the washing machine and shut the door.
Joe was standing in the center of the room, watching me. “Nice shirt.”
My flush deepened. Did he recognize it? But the Midwest was full of oversized vintage plaid. I could have been wearingan old shirt of Dad’s. Anyone’s. “I like it. It’s warm. Like a security blanket.”
“Sure.”
“You can have it back,” I blurted. Blowing any chance he might not have identified it as his. I bit my tongue.
“Keep it.” His cheek indented. “You look good in it. And I have other shirts.”
“Right. I mean, you would. It’s been years.”
Six years and two months, to be exact, since the night of my senior prom, when he’d literally given me the shirt off his back to protect me from the cold. I didn’t want him to think about the significance of my holding on to it so long. I didn’t want to think about it myself.
“You know, as good as you look in my shirt…” He met my eyes, smiling, and something moved in me, hotter than pleasure, deeper than memory. “You’d look even better out of it.”
—
Joe had abirthmark right above the dark trail of hair on his stomach. I put my mouth on it and felt his muscles jump under my lips.
He raised his head from my pillow. “What’re you doing?”
“Wondering.”
He rested his forearm across his brow, covering his eyes. “Ten minutes,” he said.
“Until what?”
“Until we can do it again.” A smile played at the corner of his mouth. “I need time to recover.”
I licked experimentally.
His stomach muscles jerked. “Jesus. Okay, five.”
I muffled my laugh against his skin, filled with an unfamiliar sense of power. I’d read about out-of-body experiences. But with Joe, I felt blissfully in my body, out of my head, buzzing with a cocktail of postorgasmic endorphins. There were those big, strong carpenter’s hands, for one thing. Those muscled, hairy thighs. His, ah, attention to detail. I’d never imagined sex could be like this. Mind-blowing, but also…fun.
I could get used to this.
