And the Courteney thing? Thatfeeling?
It wasn’t just that she looked hot in those tight jeans when I didn’t know who she was. I feltdrawnto her. It was like this static electricity in the air between us.
I tried to convince myself that it was because I hadn’t seen her in a long time… She’d changed some, so of course I didn’t recognize her right away—not my fault. But instinctively I was drawn to her, because I knew her.
That was all.
Though that didn’t explain the hard-on that had started to rise when I’d stood that close to her, my hand on her back, checking her out… feeling her warm, gentle vibe pulsing through me and smelling the soft smell of her hair.
My dick didn’t exactly go limp when I met her eyes and realized who she was, either.
But I wasn’t a machine, right? Not that easy to just turn off the switch once it’d been turned on. It was just physiology.
Again, not my fault.
She was hot, my body reacted… before my brain could take control.
I didn’t actually wanther. I’d proved that to myself when I fucked an ex-girlfriend in the woods minutes after running into her.
Because there was nothing screwed-up about that.
* * *
The next morning, I woke up late and mildly hungover from last night’s broody, one-man gin-and-juice binge by the pool. As soon as I was coherent enough to check my phone, I found a message from Cary.
He’d responded to yesterday’s text.
Cary:Drop into the studio today? After Rose leaves. Noonish.
Jesus Christ… he was inviting me into the Bat Cave.
A fucking rare occasion.
Obviously, I headed over as soon as I was up and ready. By the time I’d showered and thrown back a breakfast shake, it was past noon and his housekeeper would be gone. Rose always came on Tuesdays, cleaned the studio for him.
When I headed over to the house, Courteney wasn’t out by the pool. She’d never come home last night—at least, not that I knew of. I’d passed out by the pool, then woken up cold in the dead of night and crawled off to bed.
No sign of her in the house when I walked in now, either. Though she could’ve been in bed.
Rose was vacuuming in the living room, and I said good morning. Nice old lady. She’d been around for a long time, and seemed to tolerate Cary’s strange rules and his need for privacy with patience and respect. I also appreciated her; meant at least one human being saw him once a week, even if it was just to clean up after him.
I texted Cary to let him know when I was at the studio door—there was no other way to tell him so. He didn’t exactly have a doorbell installed, and it was soundproofed, so knocking wasn’t gonna work.
Cary opened the door in jeans and a T-shirt, looking kinda morning-tired, a refillable takeout coffee mug in his hand. Which meant Courteney had been by today?
I wondered if he’d seen her.
Almost every time I’d ventured into the house in the morning to use the kitchen, or to just snoop around and see if I could catch him outside the studio, I’d seen that mug on the floor by his door, obviously left for him by his sister.
Could’ve used a coffee delivery service myself, but hey, she’d never offered me one.
“Morning,” he said, just like we met up for coffee on a regular basis like this.
“Hey,” I said as I stepped inside. He shut the door behind me, and I bit my tongue on the automatic,How’s it going?that would normally follow a greeting to a friend I hadn’t seen in a while.
I never asked Cary how he was doing anymore. And not because the answer would be bad.
Because he wouldn’t really answer me at all.
