ALONE IN THE GARAGE, splayed on his table like a centerpiece, I felt the weight of embarrassment settle over me like a wet blanket.
But I shouldn’t be embarrassed. The guy came at me. Again.
He asked the flirty question, he came and stood between my legs, he put his hands on me first. It was obvious he wanted me like I wanted him. We were just having fun. So what was his problem?
I propped myself up on my hands and took a minute to catch my breath and wrangle my thoughts.
Was it the kids? Was it the boss/employee thing? Was he still worried about taking advantage of me in a vulnerable state? He was definitely a guy with a strong moral code—he’d flat out said he thought a person’s actions were more important than their feelings. If he believed a thing was wrong, he wouldn’t do it.
As my pulse decelerated, I had to admit there were plenty of reasons to put the brakes on before we did something we might regret.
You need this job, I reminded myself, pushing off the table and picking up my laundry basket. So maybe it’s good that one of you isn’t thinking with your hormones right now. The last thing you need is to mess this up.
As I hurried up the stairs in the drizzle, I grew even more thankful that nothing had happened. Okay, maybe not one hundred percent thankful, I admitted, thinking about his lips on my stomach, his hand on my thigh, that bulge in his jeans. But at least ninety percent. Possibly eighty-five. Eighty if I was being super honest.
Kicking the door shut with my foot, I headed into the bedroom area and set the laundry basket down. But rather than put it away, I went over to the window and looked out at the house. The windows in Austin’s bedroom were dark, and I couldn’t tell if the shade was up or down. The kids’ bathroom light appeared to be on, although the shade was lowered.
I hoped everything was okay.
Moving backward, I flopped across the foot of the bed and stared at the ceiling, my arms above my head. Closing my eyes, I fantasized about Austin stretching out above me, his weight pressing me into the mattress. I wondered if he’d be rough, like he was the night he kissed me by the fire pit, all greedy tongue and grabby hands, or tender, like he’d been downstairs just now, all soft lips and gentle fingers. I wouldn’t mind a little of both, I thought, bringing my hands to my breasts and wishing they were his. I just wanted to feel him.
I kicked off my flip flops and brought my heels onto the bed, knees apart. Bringing one hand to my leg, I let it glide up my inner thigh just like he’d done. But where he’d stopped, I didn’t—I placed my hand over my panties and rubbed slowly and firmly, allowing the hum to build in my lower body. Then I slipped my fingers inside the edge of the lace—
A knock on the door made me bolt upright, heart pounding like I’d been caught touching myself. Jumping to my feet, I glanced out the window and saw that the house was completely dark. But Jesus Christ, I’d left the shade up!
If it hadn’t been raining, I’d have taken a moment to make sure my face wasn’t too flushed, but I didn’t want to leave him out there getting wet. Fanning my face, I quickly went to the door and pulled it open.
The sight of him, all dark and rugged and wet with rain, did nothing to cool me down. “Hey,” I said, my voice cracking.
“Hey.” He shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Want to come in?”
He shook his head. “That’s a bad idea.”
“Austin, you’re getting wet. Just come in. I won’t bite.”
Tentatively, he stepped across the threshold. “Okay, but leave the door open.”
I rolled my eyes, but I backed up and put some space between us. The rain thrummed on the roof above our heads. “Everything okay at the house?”
“Yes. Owen had a bad dream. Then he wanted a glass of water. But he’s fine, already back to sleep.”
“That’s good.”
“Anyway, I just came up to apologize.” His eyes lingered on my stomach.
“You don’t have to.”
He held up his hands, raising his gaze to mine. “I want to. I made the big deal about setting boundaries when I hired you, and tonight, I pushed them.”
“I wasn’t putting up a fight, in case you didn’t notice.”
Dropping his arms, he exhaled. “Maybe you should have.”
“Why? It doesn’t seem wrong to me.”
“It doesn’t?” He looked angry. “All I can think of when I see you in that outfit is untying your top—with my teeth.”
I gasped. “Really?”
“Really. And it’s fucking wrong. You work for me.”
“Okay, maybe it’s a little bit wrong, but you know what?” I tossed my hands up. “I don’t care. I spent the last year doing exactly what I was told, so I guess you’re getting me in a rebellious phase. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. I’ll do a better job of keeping my distance.”
I didn’t want him to keep his distance. I wanted him to untie my top with his teeth. “Okay. I will too.”
He nodded. “So . . . goodnight.”
“Night.”
Then he was gone, pulling the door closed behind him.
Back in the bedroom, I went over to the window and looked out to see him hustle across the driveway and enter the house. A minute later his bedroom light came on, and I thought he’d notice the shade was still up and come over to lower it. But he must have been distracted or something because he disappeared into the bathroom for a moment—turning on the shower?—then came back out, grabbing his shirt at the back of his neck. Walking toward the window, he yanked it over his head and tossed it aside.
That’s when he saw me.
My breath caught. Framed in the window, he stood there for a moment, gorgeous and bare-chested. He reached up to pull down the shade.
I reached behind my neck and untied my top.
He paused with one arm raised.
Leaving the halter ties dangling over my shoulders, I turned around and unraveled the knot at my back. Then I let the top fall to the floor. With one last look over my shoulder—he was still there watching—I walked away from the window and switched off the light.
I walked into the bathroom with a little smile on my face.
Austin stuck to his word.
I wasn’t sure if he was just following through on his promise or punishing me for the mini-strip tease routine, but the following week, he did an excellent job keeping his distance.
On Sunday, he took the kids to Moe’s for breakfast, and even though the twins invited me to come along, Austin said nothing. I insisted they go without me and took advantage of the break in the rain with a jog down to the harbor and back. Later, when the drizzle started up again, the kids and I made tap shoes by taping pennies and nickels in the shape of taps to the bottoms of old sneakers. Then I taught them some basic steps on the tiled basement floor, and that evening, they invited their dad down to see their new skills.
He gamely applauded and praised their talent, examining the bottoms of their shoes and offering to get them a big piece of plywood if they wanted a better practice surface.
But he barely even looked in my direction.
The week began smoothly enough—I had the morning routine down pat, and running errands was quicker now that I knew my way around town. I was good at remembering names and faces, so it was nice to be able to call out a personal greeting when I passed someone on the street or grabbed coffee on Main Street or checked out at a shop downtown.
On Wednesday evening, I taught a social dance class for seniors at the library, and the librarian—Noreen, whose sister Faye had been married to Austin’s Uncle Harry—said it was the most crowded the mixer had ever been. She asked if I’d come back every week during the summer, and I said yes.
Thursday night was my biggest culinary triumph yet—I managed to serve a meal that Austin finished. And then he had seconds! Granted, it’s hard to screw up tacos, but whatever. It felt like a victory.
Afterward, however, he disappeared into the garage like he had every other night, while the kids and I ate popsicles on the front porch. Then they played outside with the other neighborhood kids until it got dark, when I corralled them into the house for showers and one last snack.
At some point during the bedtime routine each night, Austin would come in and say, “Thanks, I’ll take over,” and we’d change places without directly meeting each other’s eyes. I’d say goodnight to the kids and head back to my place above the garage, and he’d get the kids tucked in. Sometimes I heard him come back out to the garage and work a little more, but he never invited me to have a beer with him again, and he certainly didn’t come knock on my door.
By the weekend, I was feeling kind of lonely and isolated. Owen and Addie were great, and the seniors in dance class had been adorable, but I was sort of craving interaction with someone my age. Friendship. Camaraderie. It has been missing from my life ever since I’d been engaged to Neil. I’d never made girlfriends of my own in Chicago—just his sisters or the wives and girlfriends of his work or golf buddies. And I’d had nothing in common with those women.
I couldn’t call Morgan every night—she was busy with a newborn baby. Mabel had texted me a couple times over the last couple weeks asking how things were going, but I didn’t want to burden her either. I especially didn’t want to admit that part of my problem was a strong attraction to her brother.
But all physical urges aside, I really did like it when Austin and I had talked . . . Neil had not been a good listener. He’d pretend to listen, he’d say things like “right” and “uh huh,” but his eyes would glaze over, and he always found a way to bring the conversation around to a topic he could mansplain to me. We just never understood each other.
But somehow, I felt like Austin got me. Maybe it was because he’d lost his mom too. Maybe it was because I was a lot more myself around Austin than I had been around Neil. Maybe it was simply because Austin wasn’t a rich selfish prick.
Whatever the reason, I felt the loss of his friendship even though it had barely begun. I started to think about maybe trying to go see Morgan while the kids were gone, if I could scrape the money together to get there. Then while I was in the city, maybe I could see about a job and a living situation for the fall.
On Friday morning, after I’d dropped the kids at camp, I called her.
“Speak of the devil!” she said when she picked up. “I was just talking about you.”
The familiarity of her voice made me smile. “You were?”
“Yes. I might have solved your employment issues! Jake went to a meeting yesterday about a new show that’s opening this fall. Scott Blackstone is the choreographer, and apparently, he’s looking for a new assistant.”
I gasped. I’d taken Scott’s musical theater dance class for years when I lived in the city, and I loved both his choreography and his teaching style. He’d asked me to assist him in the past during my off-season whenever he’d do college workshops or festivals, and we worked really well together. But I hadn’t been in touch with him since I left New York. “Oh my god, that would be perfect!”
“I know! I told Jake to float your name. Okay to give Scott your new number? He adored you. I bet you’d get the gig.”
“Of course! Thank you—I’m so anxious to get back to New York.”
“The job isn’t going well?”
“No, it is, I just . . .” I didn’t feel like explaining the whole Austin situation to her. “I guess it just doesn’t feel like home here yet. I was thinking maybe I’d come visit you while the kids go to visit their mom in California.”
“Yes!” she shrieked. “Do it!”
I laughed at her excitement. “I’ll check ticket prices. I don’t want to blow all my earnings. I’m going to need them this fall.”
“Let me know,” she said. “I cannot wait to see you!”
We hung up, and I felt a little better.
Then I got a message from Austin.
The kids leave tomorrow for California.
I know. It’s on the calendar.
I’ll help them pack when I get home tonight. Could you make sure all their laundry is done?
Yes.
Then I took a deep breath and asked my question.
Are you still planning to take me to Chicago while they are gone to get my things?
I said I would.
I frowned.
It’s okay if you don’t have time. I know how busy you are.
I said I would, and I will. We’ll go Sunday.
Annoyed, I tossed my phone aside and stomped upstairs to get the kids’ laundry.
On Friday evening, Xander showed up with burgers and hot dogs, and he and Austin grilled while I stuck frozen French fries in the oven and tossed a salad together. Austin sat across the table from me, but never seemed to look up from his plate, much as he’d done all week.
After dinner, the kids begged their dad to take them into town for ice cream.
“Not tonight,” he said firmly. “We need to get you guys packed.”
“All their laundry is done,” I said before he could ask. Then I got up and began clearing the table. “I just have to bring up the last load from the basement. The rest is already folded and put away.”
Austin didn’t look at me, but I could sense Xander’s eyes moving back and forth between me and his brother.
“Tell you what.” Xander spoke up. “I’ll take the kids for ice cream right now, and you guys can get their bags packed without interruption.”
“Yay! Can we, Daddy?” Adelaide asked.
“I guess.” Austin didn’t sound too happy about the plan, and I wondered if it was because it meant being alone in the house with me.
“Let’s go.” Xander stood up and shook his keys. “Last one to the car is a rotten egg.”
As soon as they were gone, Austin brought his dishes to the sink. “I’ll clean up in here. Can you bring those last loads of laundry up to their rooms? Then you can be done for the night. I can pack their bags myself.”
“Fine.” Wiping my hands on the towel, I glanced sideways at him. “Everything okay?”
“Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know. You haven’t been talking to me much this week.”
He was silent for a moment. “I’m just doing what I said I’d do.”
“Right. Okay.” I left him standing there and went down to the basement, where I emptied the clothing from the dryer into the basket, then carried it all the way up to the second floor.
On the landing, I glanced into Austin’s bedroom. The bed was made, although the comforter was wrinkled on one side, like maybe he’d sat there to put on his socks and shoes. I wondered if he’d ever had a woman in that bed, or if he’d slept alone every single night for the last seven years. He said he never got lonely. But how could that be? Wasn’t he human?
I went into Adelaide’s room and dumped the clothes out onto the bed, separating them into piles of his and hers, then folding them neatly. I was placing things into Addie’s dresser drawers when I heard Austin’s voice behind me.
“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll take over.”
I closed the drawer and turned around, leaning back against the dresser. “You don’t want help?”
“No, thanks.” He went over to the bed, knelt down, and pulled a small purple suitcase from under it. Rising to his feet, he opened it on the bed.
“Are you just going to ignore me like this for the rest of the summer, Austin? Because I’m not sure I can stand it.”
“I’m not ignoring you.” He went to the closet and took out a couple pairs of shoes. “I’m treating you like I’m supposed to. Like an employee.”
“I thought we were going to be friends.”
He placed the shoes at the bottom of the suitcase. “I thought we could, but I don’t think that’s possible anymore.”
“Why not?”
“You know why not.” He went to the closet again and took a couple sundresses off their hangers.
“Because we like each other?”
“It’s more than that.” Laying the dresses on the bed, he came over to the dresser where I was standing. “Excuse me. I have to open this drawer.”
I wouldn’t budge. “Answer the question, Austin. Why can’t we be friends?”
His eyes were focused on the dresser top.
“Is this about the thing in the window the other night? I’m sorry, okay? I was trying to get under your skin the way you’d gotten under mine. I won’t do that again.”
He swallowed. His jaw twitched.
I pivoted so I could see his expression in the mirror over the dresser. It was hard and unrelenting. “So that’s it? We can’t be friends because we’re attracted to each other?”
Lifting his head, his eyes found mine in the glass. “We can’t be friends because I spend every minute of the day thinking about fucking you.”
I sucked in my breath. “That’s—that’s not what I thought you’d say.”
“It’s the truth.”
My core muscles clenched. “Maybe we could—”
“No.” He opened the drawer and took out the items he wanted. “It’s out of the question.”
“Even if I told you I think about it too?”
“Don’t tell me that.” He went back to the bed and began placing socks and underwear inside the suitcase.
“But we’re two consenting adults.”
“It’s more complicated than that. You work for me. I pay you.”
“What if I quit?”
But I couldn’t quit, and he knew it.
Downstairs, the front door opened, and we heard the kids’ voices. A moment later, they came running up the steps and appeared in Adelaide’s bedroom doorway holding the drippy remains of their ice cream.
“Uncle Xander let us get double scoops!” Owen shouted.
I plastered a smile on my face. “Looks delicious, but let’s go outside with those cones. You can each tell me what flavors you had.”
They followed me down the stairs and out to the front porch, where I sat and listened to them chatter on about their desserts and who they saw in town and how excited they were about their trip on an airplane by themselves.
“Last year was the first time Daddy let us fly alone, and the pilot let us go in the cockpit and see all the buttons and steering things,” Adelaide said. “We got to get on the plane first, and we got snacks and drinks before anyone else.”
“Wow.” I smiled. “It’s like you guys travel like movie stars.”
But my mind was stuck on a loop.
I spend every minute of the day thinking about fucking you.
