She glances at it. “Oh. Yeah.”
And she gave it to Jordan. That warm, pulsing sensation beats through me, the one I’ve been trying to ignore.
She glances over her shoulder, behind her. “Are you coming or staying?” she calls into the guesthouse.
A black ball of fur appears a moment later at my feet and I scoop her up. “I wondered where she got to.” She’s normally glued to Bea’s side when she’s home.
Phoebe pushes her head into my touch and Jordan rolls her eyes.
“She’s only in here because she’s too afraid to go out in the rain. The second the storm started, she hid under the bed. Not that I care.” She narrows her eyes at the cat, who I’ve tucked into my jacket so she doesn’t get wet.
“No, you’re right. You definitely sound like you don’t care.”
She takes the umbrella I brought and follows me to the house. At the door, the cat leaps to the ground and gives me an expectant look as I shake the rain off my coat.
“Such attitude,” Jordan mutters.
“Remind you of anyone?”
She levels me with a look. “No.”
“Yeah.” I fight a smile. “Me neither.”
This is the teasing that I missed, that I absolutely should not be partaking in. Again, I think about the sweet noises she made as I coaxed myself between her lips. Would she sound like that in bed? Her eyes were glazed and heavy-lidded, her face flushed, would she look like that after an orgasm? The way she bent for me, melted under my touch, let me kiss her thoroughly and take what I wanted. It’s been on my mind constantly.
I open the door and Bea nearly knocks Jordan over.
“You’re here,” she shouts, wrapping her arms around Jordan.
Jordan blinks, arms at her sides as Bea squeezes her, giving me a bemused look. I smile and hang up my parka, dripping wet all over the mat.
“Hi, kitty.” Bea scoops Phoebe up and gives her a kiss on the head. “Do you want some pizza?” she asks Jordan as we lead her into the house. “We got the pineapple jalapeno one you like. Also, your record player is still here. I was thinking we could listen to music? My dad said I shouldn’t play with it while you weren’t here because it could break, so I didn’t touch it even though I really wanted to. And maybe I could play my guitar for you. I’m not very good and I’m just learning, though.”
Jordan smiles, small and pleased. “I’d love to see what you can play, and I can show you how to use the record player so you can listen to music when I’m not here.”
Bea lights up. “Really? You trust me with it?”
Jordan nods. “I trust you with it.”
Bea and Jordan flip through the records while I make Jordan a plate.
Bea picks an album, Jordan shows her how to set it on the turntable, and a moment later, music fills the living room. I take a seat on the sofa and tuck my hands behind my head, smiling at the scene before me. Dim lights, rain on the roof, a fire crackling in the fireplace. Bea petting the cat and talking Jordan’s ear off, and Jordan listening with a little smile on her pretty face, sitting on the floor and looking more comfortable than I’ve ever seen her.
“I told her about Fleetwood Mac when I went to her house last night,” Bea’s saying.
“Is she a new friend?”
Bea doesn’t have a lot of friends,I admitted once to Jordan.I worry about her.
“Yup.” Bea nods. “She takes guitar lessons, too. I did the thing you told me. We’re trying to play songs together at lunch. We’re not very good.” She gives Jordan a shy smile. “But it’s fun.”
Jordan makes a high, funny noise in her throat, like she’s so happy she doesn’t know what to do with herself. Her eyes cut to mine, bright and stunned. “Love that for you, Bee.”
My heart gives a sharp, sudden squeeze. Jordan called my daughterBee.I love that. I love that way, way too much.
“I’m proud of you,” Jordan adds, and I’m finished, a pressure building behind my ribcage as I glance between them, Bea beaming and Jordan giving her a small, hesitant smile.
“What were you doing tonight before the power went out?” Bea asks.
