Page 134 of Perfect Mess

Was that my heart beating so loudly or did a platoon of road workers with jack hammers start reconstructing the entire Central Florida road system right outside the house?

Gary looked down at the paint on his shirt. “Oh oh, that’s going to stain. This is my favorite shirt.” It was my new favorite shirt, too. Ever. On anyone. “Is it okay if I soak this?”

You can soak anything you want.I didn’t say that part out loud. But I was definitely thinking about it at the top of my lungs. I needed to go soak my overheated head in the pool.

In one fluid motion, Gary reached back and pulled the Yale shirt up his back and over his head. “Sink okay?”

Yes, as a matter of fact. I was sinking. My mind, straight down to the gutter.

“Mary, you okay?”

“Me? I’m great.” I did my best not to look at the way his chest muscles rippled like a suit of bullet proof body armor, and the way his abdomen muscles paved a rock hard path down to his hips. I also tried not to notice the curls of hair on his chest, hair that looked so soft and fuzzy and rub-able that if I ran my hand through it, I would never want to use my hand for anything else ever again.

Well, almost anything.

ChapterThirty-Two

The next morning, Gary and I redefined the term “open house”. We didn’t finish painting until well after midnight, and it was even later by the time Gary’s shirt had soaked. While I was moving it to the dryer, I asked him if he wanted to stay the night again.

“Better safe than sorry. No ulterior motives. I promise.” I offered to let him take my room, but he insisted the couch was fine. Kyle, of course, got the rocket ship bed.

While I was digging out some extra sheets and a pillow, Gary turned on the television. Family Feud was playing, so I joined him. His shirt was still in the dryer, so I strategically sat on the opposite end of the couch. Not too close. Taking it slow.

Eventually, as you might expect in that kind of situation, one thing led to another. No. Not that thing. Before we knew what we were doing, we found ourselves neck and neck. In points, that is. Another friendly competition, guessing answers during the speed round. Gary won the first round, I won the second. We battled back and forth, neither one of us willing to quit. During one of the commercial breaks, I decided I would rest my eyes just a little, a few seconds at most.

I must have dozed off because the next morning, when I woke up, I was still on the couch with Gary. He was zonked out on the other side, tangled up in the blanket. Our legs wrapped together like a pretzel.

He still wasn’t wearing a shirt, and for some reason, I wasn’t either. Just a sports bra and my sleep shorts. I must have gotten hot in the middle of the night and torn it off. And, let’s just say, the snippets of my dreams that I could remember hadn’t exactly cooled things down. They made the dream I had about Jack in his waiting room look like a rated G nursery school rhyme for toddlers.

Unconcerned about my partial clothing coverage, I sank back into the couch cushion and watched Gary sleep for a few moments. His bare chest rising and falling, the way his eyes fluttered in his dreams, the whispered sound of his breath as it passed back and forth through his lips.

“Ah-hmm.” The noise came from the other side of the living room.

I whipped around to see Bonnie and Joyce standing there, eyes wide, mouths hanging open. Behind Bonnie was her client, a bald man in wire-rimmed glasses, black slacks, black shirt, and a white collar. The pastor. His hand clutched the silver cross that hung around his neck.

Next to Joyce were her clients, the young couple and their four children, each one’s eyes wider than the next. The husband and the wife held each other like they were standing on the deck of the Titanic.

I scrambled up from the couch. “Bonnie! Joyce! You’re here!”

The little girl pointed. “Mommy, she’s not wearing her jammies.”

I ripped the sheet off of Gary to cover myself, fully exposing his naked torso, his private bits barely covered by his boxer shorts. Startled awake, Gary grunted, then tumbled off the couch with a thud.

The little girl pointed at Gary. “He’s not wearing jammies either.”

Despite the look of horror on the faces of their clients, Bonnie and Joyce were smiling ear to ear.

Bonnie winked.

Joyce gave me a thumbs up.

The pastor made the sign of the cross.

* * *

Thankfully,the rest of the open house went off without a hitch. And after calling Karen to grab Kyle to hang out with Cary for the day, Gary stayed the entire time, helping out. During a lull in visitors, he even went back to the grocery store and bought all the ingredients to make us a gourmet brunch. Huevos Rancheros, with homemade salsa, sliced avocado, the works. Turns out, when I just got out of his way and let him do his thing, he could really cook.

Over the course of the day, a lot of people came through. No on-the-spot offers, but the changes I made to spruce up the place had them oohing and aahing. I even overheard one woman tell her husband she really liked the wallpaper in the kitchen. Gary must have heard her too, because he winked at me. I could tell by the look on his face it was one of those things he would never let me forget for the rest of eternity.The rest of eternity?My imagination was obviously still high on paint fumes from the previous night.

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