Page 54 of The Homemaker
“Stop!” I laughed, standing and grabbing his wrists to prevent him from going any further. “Keep working, or let’s go somewhere.”
He narrowed his eyes, sighed, and zipped his jeans. “Where do you want to go?”
“I heard you have some hidden falls around here. Let’s go to lunch, then to the falls. After that, we’ll grab groceries.”
His thumb traced the scar on my arm. He did it a lot. “Where did you get this?” he finally asks. “It looks like a recent scar. Red and raised.”
I swallowed hard. “I was swimming in the river and snagged it on a branch.”
Murphy nodded and continued to study me. “Can you give me ten minutes before we go?”
I smiled, delighted that the scar conversation was over. “Of course.”
“Good.” He kissed my neck and unbuttoned my jeans.
“What are you doing?” I grinned, sliding my fingers into his hair.
“Don’t worry about it. We’ll be done in less than ten minutes.” And before he kissed my lips, he grinned and whispered, “Hi.”
There were three important things I learned about Murphy Paddon that day. One: He knew where to get the best Banh Mi sandwich in Minnesota. Two: He carried snacks for the squirrels in his pockets. Three: He organized the cart returns in the grocery store parking lot.
Food connoisseur.
Animal lover.
Perfectionist.
“Not cool,” I said, resting a hand on my flipped-out hip when he nested the carts in a perfect line.
“What’s not cool? Helping the store out?” He laughed.
“Those employees probably fight over who gets to bring in the carts because it means they get outside in the sun and fresh air for a while. But now you’ve done half their job, which means less time outside.”
“Get your sexy ass in the car and stop pestering me about my stellar manners.”
I stood at the end of the cart return checking my nails as if his command meant nothing.
“I bet you were spanked a lot as a child,” he said, after pushing the last cart into the others.
“Why would you say that?” I glanced up just as he grabbed my arm and the back sides of my legs.
“Murphy!” I squealed when he hoisted me over his shoulder.
“Because,” he swatted my ass, “you can be too sassy for your own good.”
“Put me down! This is embarrassing.”
He continued toward his Explorer and placed me on my feet at the front passenger door. I scowled while straightening my shirt and righting my shorts. When I opened my mouth to give him another round of “sass,” he grabbed my face and kissed me.
No “hi.” No warning. Just his tongue sliding past my lips. I moaned as it scraped along the roof of my mouth. The warm door met my back as his body pressed against mine. My heart ached knowing our time was ending. And then it ached even more as memories of why it had to end seeped through the walls I’d built around the wreckage.
Our kiss slowed, and his lips brushed along my cheek as his hands threaded through my hair, tugging at the roots. “I don’t want you to go,” he whispered.
I knew that. And I didn’t want to leave Minneapolis, the quaint little apartment, Palmer the resident cat, or the woodturner with a killer smile and equally sublime dance moves. Reality was overrated. But the only way to escape it forever was to leave the world behind. Since I chose life, I couldn’t stay with Murphy, but I hated to go. And the realm between what was real and what was not wasn’t strong enough to contain my grief.
“You can’t ask me to stay,” I said in an equally agonizing whisper. “And you can’t love me.”
Murphy paused. “I’m not asking you to stay. I’m just asking that you never fucking forget that I don’t want you to go.”
