Page 32 of Corkscrew You
“I had the same idea,” he says. “What I said this morning – I had a reason, but it was a stupid one. That’s why I owe you an apology.”
He extends his hand across the desk. “Can we start over?”
I shake it overly hard because I’msorelieved. He winces.
“I need to get back to the gym,” he says, shaking out his hand.
“There’s a good one in Verity,” I tell him. “Called the Jim-Nasium, because it’s owned by—”
“A guy called Jim?”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”
I choose to believe he likes it when I wind him up, though he does have averygood poker face. A ridiculously handsome good poker face. I’m dying to ask what his stupid reason was, but I won’t push my luck.
“Do you really have to work, or can you go home now?” I ask, instead.
It’s like I’ve pulled out the workaholic bung and given him permission to deflate. He literally sags in the chair.
“Yeah, I should go home,” he sighs. “The numbers are starting to blur together and that’s a bad thing with numbers.”
He stands, and so do I, He puts on his jacket, and drops his phone into a pocket. I still have a lettuce leaf in my own pocket, but he doesn’t need to know that. I hold open the door as he switches off the inside light. The feeble security light is our only illumination, as we hover outside.
“I can bring you coffee in the morning,” I offer. “I’ll hold the gator milk.”
To my astonishment, he bends and kisses my cheek. For a fleeting moment, I breathe in his scent, a hint of sweat and something spicy, and my body lights up like a Christmas tree. I almost,almostgrab him and pull his mouth fully onto mine, but he steps back. And it’s too dark for me to properly see his face.
But his voice sounds calm and normal, as he says, “See you in the morning.”
And all I can do is say, “Yep, see you then.”
ChapterTwelve
NATE
Ideserve a medal. OK, only a bronze one because Ididkiss her cheek. But what Iwantedto do was pull her to me, kiss her full on the mouth, explore that sweetness with my tongue, gently bite those freckled lips, and…
Merde. My balls tighten ominously. I’m about to disgrace myself like some horny teen in his first clinch behind the barn. Which is not the explanation I want to give the highway patrol officer when I get pulled over for erratic driving. Focus on the road, Nate. Dying in a ditch with a hard-on is not how you want to go. At least, not today.
I make it back home without incident but also withoutanyidea of how to deal with any of this. I can’t deny what I feel for Shelby because thoughts of her consume me every hour I’m awake. Is this what love is? I thought about Camille all the time in those early days, but only because I was obsessed with winning her. My train of thought with Camille was on a single track. Whereas when I think about Shelby, it’s like I’m looping the loop on some lunatic rollercoaster and being thrown between heady exhilaration and sheer terror.
The exhilaration is more than sexual, though I can’t deny I’ve imagined having her in every way physically possible. It’s also the prospect of being with someone who, to put it simply, brightens my life. Someone who’s kind and generous and funny. Someone I can laugh with,relaxwith. I never fully let my guard down with anyone, not even family –especiallynot family. But I feel like I can with Shelby. I can imagine us together on her couch, surrounded by cats and dogs, watching the log fire crackle away and just …beingwith each other. No expectations other than respect and affection. I can’t explain how much I want this.
But then there’s the terror. What if I can’t change? What if I’m always going to be a control freak who keeps his emotions locked up tight? What if I won’t have enough time for Shelby because saving Flora Valley Wines will require me to work my ass off? And what if I can’tsave it, no matter how hard I work? As little brother Max said – damn his eyes – it’s hard for love to survive the destruction of your dreams.
So many what-ifs. I hate what-ifs. They peck away at my brain, and I can’t shut them up, the pecky fuckers.
As I pull into our driveway, I wonder again whether it’d be better for my mental health if I checked into a hotel. But then, I remember – again – that the whole point is for me to save as much of my salary as possible in case the worst happens with Dad, and Mom needs help. She’ll resist selling this place until she absolutely has to, but the cost of its upkeep is not insignificant to put it mildly. Dad’s never talked about life insurance so we’re only guessing that he’s got some. He’s always been financially prudent but that might be doing battle with his unwillingness to confront mortality. All the more reason for us Durant kids – well, mainly me – to build Mom up a nest egg. All the more reason to work my ass off to save Flora Valley Wines. And here we go round again.
I’m too late for dinner, and everyone seems to have retreated to their rooms. I’m not unhappy about that. In the kitchen, there’s a note stuck on the oven in Ava’s handwriting that says ‘EAT!!!’. Which is ironic because my sister lives on protein bars and air, as far as I can tell.
Inside the oven, there’s a foil-covered plate and under the foil, there’s Mom’s famous mac-and-cheese, and I’m suddenly so hungry I almost grab a handful and shove it into my mouth. But even though the kitchen is empty, I feel Mom’s presence. I still wolf it down so fast I’m at risk of choking, but at least I’m using a fork.
I rinse my plate, load it into the dishwasher and grab a beer from the fridge. I’ll drink it in my room because if I don’t head up those stairs now, I soon won’t have the energy to move.
On my bedroom door, there’s another note in Ava’s handwriting. ‘NOW SLEEP!!!’ Again, ironic coming from her. Ava’s never outgrown her infant sleeping habits which according to Mom and Dad almost resulted in her being driven to the nearest mountainside and abandoned. My own sleeping habits, apparently, were perfectly regimented, which says all it needs to say.
As I close the door, I spy a third note. ‘NO SCREENS!! NO ALCOHOL!!’ On the bedside table, there’s a glass of milk and a plate of Mom’s chocolate chip cookies. And yet another note that says, ‘YOU’RE WELCOME!’
