“Excuse me, I do not have baggage!”
“Yes, you do. You have two teen sons that require an awful lot of your attention. And a brother who is…well, let’s just say he’s squeezing every last nickel out of your generosity. Trust me, a guy like Harrison Neely is not looking for a relationship with a woman in your position.”
Amy gasped.
“Don’t get me wrong, you’re gorgeous and totally worth it. But do you really think he is going to tie himself down to a woman your age with two kids and a job in HR?”
“He is my age!” Amy protested. “And everyone has that kind of baggage at my age.”
“He doesn’t. No kids, right? He travels the world. You travel to Target and Walmart. And you’ve only known him a couple of days, so there is no way you could have spotted his red flags.”
“What red flags?”
“You are making my point. I don’t know his flags, but every man has them. Maybe he’s an alcoholic. Or is in debt. Or is a serial cheater. The possibilities are literally infinite. Look, all I’m saying is, enjoy this, but don’t get too in your head.”
“I’mnot, Julie,” she said curtly. But was she? Julie was right—she was making a gigantic leap based on just a few days in a swank lake house.
“You deserve this interlude, so enjoy it! And the next time wine club meets, you can tell us all about the fabulous sex, so don’t forget to count your orgasms.”
“Eew.”
“Just don’t get carried away.” Julie picked up her mascara again, then gave Amy a sympathetic wince. “I’m only looking out for you, Ames. I love you. I wouldn’t want to see you hurt.”
“I am not going to get hurt,” Amy insisted. “Because I am not seventeen and I’ve been around the block.”
“Once, basically.”
“But it was marriage, Julie. It’s not like we went steady. I get what you’re saying, and I’m fine. Okay, I should go paint now.”
“No pouting!” Julie said before Amy could hang up.
“No pouting,” Amy reluctantly agreed, and ended the call.
She didn’t always like what Julie had to say, especially when Julie was blunt. But in this case, Amy had to take what she’d said and absorb it. Julie was probably right. Amy was always a pragmatist. And probably a bit of a pessimist. When one of her boys got some pie-in-the-sky idea (like when Jonah decided he didn’t need to go to high school, he could just be a day trader), she was the one who would gently bring them back to earth.
So why wasn’t she being a pragmatist now?
She stroked Duchess’s head and thought about it. The sex had been fantastic…but he was out of bed before she woke up. Did that mean anything? Was he regretting last night? Was he supposed to lounge around and wait for her to wake up? Maybe he had the same internal gong sounding in him as she did, telling him that time was wasting. Or maybe she’d turned him off. Did she snore? God help her, did shedrool?
And just like that, she was in her own head again, thinking like a seventeen-year-old.
She got up and put Duchess on the floor, then showered and dressed for the day, taking care not to overdo the makeup. When she ventured out of her room, Harrison was not around. The sun was out, but there was a gray film to the sky, and the temperature was brisk. She took Duchess out for a stroll around the grounds and discovered the hot tub tucked away around the side of the house at the same time Duchess did. It was set beneath a live oak tree and with a cute little wooden platform around it so you could have drinks and a place to put your clothes. It would be fun to be out here, just the two of them, and they—
Damn it. She was doing it again. “Take it down a peg, Amy,” she muttered to herself.
She whistled for Duchess and they returned to the house. She made herself a light breakfast, fed the dog, then the two of them went to her studio.
She sat down at the easel. Yesterday she’d started a painting of a rustic kitchen. Sunlight streamed in through the open windows, a plate of cookies cooled on the sash. There was a Dutch oven on an old gas stove. A vase of wildflowers graced the rough-hewn kitchen table. It was nostalgic and reminded her of the images she used to conjure as a poor art student—those that captured the dreams she had of one day having a home, with children and a caring husband, and a studio in the back surrounded by wildflowers.
She’d achieved those dreams, but not in the way she’d imagined.Back then, she’d imagined it would all be so lovely. Some parts of her life had been. But some parts had been very difficult. She stared at the painting, trying to think what else she could include, if she could do better with the light. But she was aware that while one half of her brain was lecturing her to paint, toremember why she’d come hereand how disappointed in herself she would be if she allowed a man to derail this opportunity, the other, unruly half was off on a tangent. That side of her brain was drunk on lust and wondering where Harrison was this morning, and if he’d come to the studio to visit. If she should go look for him, if it was okay or not okay to suggest more sex this morning.
Damn it, Julie was right. She’d gone in too deep. Give a woman who’s been in the sexual Sahara Desert good sex and watch her lose her mind.
15
Harrison had gone to Bellah’s Grocery, which, he discovered, had a small coffee shop embedded in it. The place smelled of roasted coffee and something savory, although the menu listed only pastries.
He’d come here to escape the lake house and himself. He hadn’t actually wanted to leave, but had felt it was necessary, as he was beginning to feel things that alarmed him. Things he hadn’t felt in a long time—physical, emotional things. And a lot of raw desire mixed in with those feelings, which he considered the curse of being a man. A cute beverage cart girl could arouse his interest in no time. But this sort of desire was different. It wasn’t simple, it wasn’t lust, exactly, but the desire tobewith someone, to connect on a more ethereal level. To be close to someone for all the other things like companionship and trust and shared thoughts.
