"It does."I glance through the house to the back door, overlooking the five-acre field that is our backyard.
The sun is setting, a massive orange ball spiked by towering pines.A cluster of deer browse just beyond the tree line, delicate hooves stepping into hock-deep snow, ears swiveling like satellite dishes.A harsh wind blows, sending a snow-devil swirling across the surface of the snow.
I pause."D'you want a glass of wine or whiskey?"
"I wouldn't hate a glass of whiskey."
I snag the bottle and two glasses and precede her to the couch.I sit in the corner of the sectional, to one side, so Morgan has plenty of space to decide how close to me she wants to sit.I hand one to Morgan, who, instead of sitting beside me, wanders to the railing and admires the view while taking a sip.
I can't help admiring the view myself, although I'm not looking at trees or wildflowers.
Blatantly, I'm admiring Morgan's backside.She's wearing a pair of dark-wash blue jeans that are skin-tight enough they have to be at least partly leggings, molded to the curves of her thighs, hips, and ass the way they are.Brown leather ankle-height boots with a blocky heel giving her a couple extra inches of height, and a pale pink sweater of thin wool that dips low enough to show a generous amount of cleavage; I don’t think she’s wearing a bra, considering the prominent poke of her nipples against the soft wool.
She turns and glances at me over her shoulder, catching me staring at her butt.The corner of her mouth tips up knowingly."Beautiful view you have."
"Never gets old," I murmur, hesitate, and then go for it."I've got a pretty spectacular view from here, too."
The smile brightens."Noah," she mutters."Flattery will get you everywhere."
"Everywhere?"
She drifts to the couch and sits beside me—not quite tucked against my side but close enough she could with a simple shift of her weight.resting her glass on her knee, she looks at me."Maybe noteverywhere.But pretty far."
"It's not flattery, Morgan.You're gorgeous.Truly."
Her chin dips toward her chest."Thanks."A huff."Accepting compliments gracefully is not my strongest suit."
“You're doing just fine."
It's been a long, long time since I've had to think about how to approach someone in this context.We're both attracted to each other.We both have needs and desires.We've been open and honest about those desires.But now that she's here, in my home, the home I built and shared with Taylor, I'm scared out of my mind.
What's the move?Suggest a movie?Just kiss her?
I don't want her to think the only reason she's here is for that.But then she's the one who suggested "Netflix and Chill" and claimed to know the implications of that phrase.
She sips, glances at me sidelong, swallows."So."
I huff a soft laugh."I'm sitting here like a dork trying to figure out how to be cool about this.I don't think I'm succeeding."
She laughs a little too loudly and claps a hand over her mouth."Ohmigod.I'm such a spaz.I'm clearly not being cool about this either."
“We don't have to be cool, then," I say."I'm nervous, you're nervous.But…nothing has to happen, Morgan.We can watch a movie and just…be together.Just talk."
She shakes her head."I don't want to just talk, Noah.I like you.I'm attracted to you.I really, really am.More so than I can remember ever being attracted to anyone.I just…I'm…"
I take a swallow and set the glass aside, turn toward her, and rest my hand on her knee."What if we started there?"
She puts her hand over mine."I'm good with that."
Her hand goes to my knee, flutters and hovers, and then settles.Her palm is warm through the denim, sending sparks skittering up my leg and into my nervous system.
My heart patters crazily.
Part of me insists I kiss her already, and the other part of me shies away, feels the weight of the past in this home, the invisible ghost of my wife in every room.
I don't know if I can do this here.
"Noah?"
I shoot to my feet, pace to the sliding glass door."Sorry, I…"
She follows me, stands beside me."Talk to me."
I opt for the brutal truth.
