Better Than Friends (24 page)

I
SPENT
the night at Jack’s after our first “date.” I hadn’t intended to but I was exhausted. When I woke up the next morning, I was angry at myself, but I took it out on him.

“I can’t believe you didn’t wake me up. Why didn’t you take me back to my car? This is unbelievable. Do you know how much traffic I’m going to have to deal with to get from Dupont to Georgetown and then back downtown? Fuck!”

I scrambled out of his huge bed and headed to the bathroom. When I returned, he was still lying sprawled out naked in bed. He looked magnificent, and although I wanted to enjoy the eye candy, my natural proclivity for timeliness accompanied with a lack of caffeine was sending me into a mental tailspin.

“You have to get up. I need a ride to my car. Shit! Do you think I can get it at the restaurant? They won’t be open at six fucking a.m.!” I bit my lip, wondering what to do when I heard a low chuckle.

“Come back to bed.” Jack stretched an arm out in invitation.

“I have to get to work. And a ‘walk of shame’ through the streets of DC isn’t my idea of a great start to the day. C’mon, let’s go!”

“‘Walk of shame’? Curtis, you are high fucking maintenance. Okay. Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll take you to your place. You can shower, change, whatever, and then I’ll take you to your office. You can deal with your car at lunchtime. If you need me to help you, I’d be happy to. See? No issues, no worries. Let’s make some coffee, and then we’ll be on our way.” Jack slung his long legs in front of him and gave me a kiss on the top of my head as he moved toward the bathroom.

“No time for coffee. Let’s go. Maybe you should just take me to the restaurant now. I can figure it out from there and—”

“Hey, nothing happens without coffee. Stop freaking out and either go make us some or give me a minute in the bathroom and I’ll make it. Okay?” Jack’s tone was firm.

“Fine.” I re-dressed quickly in my suit pants and shirt, rolling up the sleeves as I made my way to Jack’s kitchen to start the coffee.

Everything in his place was pristine, almost as though no one lived there. Definitely the opposite of mine. I found the coffee and managed to get his high-tech machine working when he came up behind me, snaking his arms around my stomach and giving me a sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“Morning, handsome.”

I turned in his arms and buried my nose in his shoulder, loving the smell of him. Fuck, he was hot. His hands roamed over my ass and up my sides. I could forget everything I had to do that day if I wasn’t careful. I regretfully pulled away and asked where the cups were. Jack took over, pointing me toward a barstool at the kitchen island.

“Jack, we don’t have time to linger. I have to get to the office.”

“You will get to your office, darlin’. Just sit for a minute and have a cup of coffee.”

“We should have just gotten one on the way. Or you—”

“Curt?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up and drink. If nothing else, I need the caffeine to deal with you. I had no idea you were not a morning person.” He set a cup in front of me and leaned on the counter as he eyed me carefully over his own mug.

I rolled my eyes and took a careful sip. What could I say? He was right. I was horrible without coffee. The best part about living alone was not having to make polite small talk to your roommates first thing in the morning. I was so out of practice, there was no doubt I was acting like an ass.

“Sorry. I get anxious.” That was the best I could offer.

Jack’s grin was wide and generous. “Is that why you ripped my head off and then made a mess in my kitchen?”

The twinkle in his beautiful eyes invited me to relax, calm down, and try to see a lighter side rather than focus on things I couldn’t change. I gave him a tepid smile and ended up laughing. He was right. Caffeine wouldn’t solve my no-clothes issue and the very real dilemma of living across town, but it was a start.

“M
EN
ARE
the sport of circumstances, when the circumstances seem the sport of men.”

—Lord Byron

A
S
THE
summer months progressed, Jack and I spent a good deal of time together. We didn’t call ourselves “boyfriends” per se but we were certainly “seeing each other” or maybe even “dating,” though not in a traditional sense. We simply were going with the flow. We enjoyed each other’s company and the sex was amazing. Why question? Rather than traditional dating activities such as dinners out and movies, we watched a lot of baseball. Mostly televised games, but we did use Jack’s Nationals tickets often and even took an excursion to Baltimore to see the Orioles play for the hell of it.

The complication of Paul was resolved without any awkward explanations about how I was kind of, sort of seeing someone else. Paul called to tell me he was being sent to Indonesia for a work assignment and would be out of the country for three months. I congratulated him because I could tell he was thrilled. When he told me he’d get in touch with me when he returned, I didn’t hesitate to tell him that sounded great. A lot could happen in three months.

“S
O
I
was thinking about what I want to do for my… you know.”

Jack was lying flat across his sofa with his arms tucked under his head. He kept his eyes trained on the flatscreen while he spoke. Everything about him was languid and relaxed. We’d spent most of that lazy Sunday morning in bed and had eventually made our way back to the living area to grab something to eat. I noticed the gentle rise and fall of his chest and the way his snug T-shirt had hiked up, exposing his belly button and the calligraphic writing just between his pelvis bones I’d been tracing with my tongue all morning. I felt myself stir and looked away. I didn’t have another round in me yet. Jack may have been fourteen years older than me, but the man was insatiable.

“For your what? Birthday?”

“No. That’s not ’til January. Let’s not even go there, please. No, I was talking about my choice of… you know….”

I sat up and turned to give him my full attention. I didn’t know. What was he talking about? I asked and nearly got my head bitten off.

“For fuck’s sake! For someone who’s so anal, you forget stuff rather easily. I’m talking about you choosing dinner and a movie and me choosing…. something else.”

Since I was in danger of bursting into what Jack would probably consider an inappropriate fit of laughter, I gave the Dodgers my full attention and bit the inside of my cheek.

“Oh. That was a long time ago. I thought you forgot about it.” I went for nonchalant and was pleased with my delivery.

“Nice try. Nope.” Jack sat up and pulled my left arm hard, dragging me over to his side of the sofa. “Are you free next weekend? Saturday and Sunday.”

“Two days?” My pulse sped up. What was he up to?

“Yeah. It’s only fair. Yours was stretched over two days… at least.”

“I don’t know how you can so comfortably live in an alternate universe. Dinner was one night, but yes, I’m free both days. What are we doing?”

Jack gathered me close to his side and kissed my temple, my cheek, my chin, and then my nose.

“You’ll see.”

T
HE
ONLY
information Jack gave me about our plans the following weekend was to pack lightly—
as in, fit your shit in a backpack
, were his exact words—bring sturdy shoes for hiking, and be ready by 8:00 a.m. Saturday morning. Since he said the word
hiking
, I assumed we would be doing that at some point, but otherwise, I had no clue. Once again, I surprised myself by calmly turning over the reins to Jack. This was his thing. He knew me well enough now to know what I liked and didn’t. I trusted him.

Of course it was drizzling Saturday morning. I threw a hooded red jacket on and waited for Jack outside, with my backpack at my feet. I had too much nervous energy to sit around my apartment for a minute longer. I was bound to get soaked on the back of his bike, so a little moisture now hardly mattered. At seven fifty, I was reading e-mails on my cell phone as I listened for the telltale sound of his engine driving up my quiet street.

“Hey there. You gonna stand on that street corner like a hustler all morning, or are you climbing in? I’ve got places to go, honey.”

I looked up from my phone to see Jack behind the wheel of a pickup truck. A sleek, shiny red pickup truck. I couldn’t help the insta-grin on my face at seeing him. I wished I could play it cooler, but I didn’t have it in me to pretend I hadn’t missed him all week. I would have been perfectly content to sit on either of our sofas watching sports all weekend as long as I got to be with him, but the prospect of an unknown adventure was undeniably thrilling. The grin wasn’t going anywhere for a while.

I fastened the seat belt and turned to get my first good look at Jack in almost a week. His usually clean-shaven face was covered in a day’s worth of manly stubble. I had always loved the contrast of his longish hair and smooth jaw, and although he sported a sexy end-of-the-day stubbled look every now and then, this was by far the scruffiest I’d ever seen him. And wow, it was really fucking sexy. I had no idea I had a type. Rugged, muscular, and outdoorsy… sold.

Jack gave me a sideways glance, no doubt noticing my scrutinizing stare. His smile lifted the corners of his generous mouth and crinkled his eyes cheerfully. He maneuvered the truck out of traffic and pulled abruptly into an open spot a few hundred feet from where he’d picked me up. I could feel my forehead wrinkle in query.

“Wha—”

He lunged across the armrest and his left hand moved to grab the back of my head and then cradle my neck as he sealed his lips over mine. His urgent kiss was intoxicating, and his message was clear.
I missed you this week, and I’m happy to be with you now.
It was everything strumming through my own body that I couldn’t put words to without sounding needy or even creepy. I was shaken when he pulled away. In a good way, yes, but I was thrown by the raw quality behind the fervent exchange. It was definitely something new between us.

Jack pulled away and shifted in his seat, making a production of adjusting his package. I laughed as expected and leaned over to kiss his cheek platonically before he moved the truck back into traffic.

“So, where are we going?” I used a singsong voice, trying to convey only the slightest bit of interest. Total fail. I was too pumped up. It was almost a shock I wasn’t wiggling in my seat.

“You’ll see.” He spared me a quick glance. “I was hoping we’d avoid rain, but looks like it’ll be a little damp this weekend. Glad to see you’re wearing a jacket.”

“Please tell me there isn’t a tent involved.”

Jack chuckled heartily. “No tent. What would you have done if there was, though? Are you anti-camping?”

I gave a mock shiver. “Not exactly, but it would never be my first choice. So where did you say we’re staying, then?”

“Nice try. I didn’t say. You’ll see when we get there, and stop being nosey. Remember, this is my date.” His smug tone was really fucking cute. I told him so, which resulted in an immediate scowl.

“I know it sounds silly but I figured we’d be traveling by Harley. I don’t think I knew you had a truck.”

“Yeah, a guy needs options. I thought about taking my bike, but I didn’t want you to be miserable if it started to pour. We’ll be on the road for at least an hour. If the weather gets rough, even I would rather have a little shelter. Which is why we’re not in a tent tonight.” He winked at me before turning his attention back to the traffic.

“So we are camping?”

“Cool it. You’ll see when we get there. Stop getting yourself worked up, and tell me about the life and times of my eminent lawyer. How was your week, honey?”

I wanted to bask in being called “his” eminent lawyer in the same breath he referred to me as honey, but I let my more mature nature prevail.

“I don’t want you falling asleep behind the wheel, so I’ll spare you the boring details. And anyway, we talked every day. You know all about the life and times of Curt Townsend, Mr. Farinelli.”

“It’s kind of strange that for as much as we talk, we don’t run out of things to say,” Jack observed thoughtfully.

I silently agreed. He was right. Our conversations tended to begin with sports and then morph into a debate about anything from ballpark hotdogs to our favorite types of food, and restaurants we loved in the city. Before long, we’d move back in time to discuss popular candy and snacks available when we were kids. There was no real rhythm or rhyme to our dialogue; it was just easy.

A song from the ’80s came on the radio, which began a heated discussion about music. We both liked classic rock, but Jack had a fondness for some iffy bands who were popular when he was in high school.

“C’mon, Jack…. A Flock of Seagulls? Really? That is nostalgia talking.”

“I liked them. They were cool back in the day, pipsqueak. No mocking your elders.”

“Fine, old guy, but you have to admit there’s a possibility we cling to old crappy tunes because they remind us of significant times in life.”