Page 6 of Wrapped Up In You
After taking a quick shower, I started a pot of coffee and whipped up a couple of omelets, which I was just plating when Jonathan reemerged from the bedroom. I was fairly certain he was free-balling it in the gray sweats he wore. They were snug enough that I could see his dick print. His chest was no longer bare, though he wore a simple long-sleeved fitted tee that hugged the toned chest I’d gotten a view of this morning. His short brown hair was perfectly styled, of course, but he hadn’t shaved, and I liked the bit of scruff I could see around his jawline. I’d never seen him so casual.
I set the plates on either side of the table, then joined him at the window, handing him a mug of black coffee. He avoided my gaze as he accepted the mug but said, “Thank you,” after taking a sip.
We stood a moment, staring out at the dazzling beauty of the sparkling white landscape. It was a winter wonderland. Tree branches hung heavy under the burden of so much snow, and some of the smaller plants were nothing more than lumps of white.
“Looks like we’re not going anywhere anytime soon,” I murmured, breaking the silence.
He sighed as if the thought of being trapped here with me was too awful to contemplate. “I suppose you’re right.”
“You weren’t planning on going anywhere for a while anyway, right?” Judging by the amount of food he’d stocked, I had assumed he was planning to be here for at least a week.
“Yeah, but that was before…”
“Before I showed up,” I finished for him. It stung knowing my presence here was so offensive to Jonathan, but I plastered on a bright smile and pulled out my chair. “Well, we might as well make the best of it. We should eat before it gets cold.”
He sat but didn’t pick up his fork. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”
I waved him off. “It’s fine. You probably just wanted some time alone after whatever happened with Rebecca. I get it. As soon as we can dig out my car, I’ll be out of your hair.”
“Hayden, you don’t have to be in a rush to leave. It’s fine.” But his voice didn’t sound fine. He sounded tense. Strained. It was one thing to tease him a little this morning and ruffle his feathers, but I didn’t want to be a source of stress for him. I hated that I always seemed to have that effect on people.
“It’s no biggie. I’m scheduled at Olive & Vine on the twenty-seventh anyway. You can handle me for three more days, right?” I flashed him a teasing smile before scooping up some eggs, trying to lighten the mood.
“Yeah, sure.” He finally took a bite of his eggs and groaned in pleasure. The sound of it brought back flashes of memory from this morning, and my dick went from zero to “put me in, coach” in record time. Thankfully, the table hid the evidence.
I took a few more bites, surreptitiously pushing down my cock with my other hand under the table, willing myself to calm the fuck down. He clearly didn’t want me here and was only tolerating my presence because he was polite. I was sure the last thing he wanted was me hitting on him. In fact, the more I thought about it, I was sure I’d imagined that look of lust in his eyes this morning. I was probably just projecting my horniness on him.
We ate in silence, and just like last night, I was at a loss for topics of conversation. Jonathan seemed to have that effect on me. Most of the time, I was a Chatty Cathy, my brain churning out words without a filter in a rambling stream-of-consciousness. But with Jonathan, I second-guessed everything I wanted to say, convinced he’d think it was dumb.
Fortunately, it was a lighter meal, so the awkwardness didn’t continue for too long before we were both finished. We took the plates to the kitchen, where I cleaned up—Jonathan didn’t fight me on washing the dishes this time—and then retired to the living area with fresh mugs of coffee in hand. I could say one thing for him: he hadn’t skimped on the good coffee.
He took the couch, and wanting to give him space, I grabbed my phone off the charger and sat on the lumpy recliner. Wi-Fi was unavailable and cell service was spotty in our remote location, so streaming was out of the question. I tried scrolling my socials, but just as I’d discovered in the middle of the night, I could get a couple of posts to load but couldn’t respond, and as soon as I tried to scroll, I got the spinning wheel of doom that told me new posts weren’t incoming any time soon.
I pulled up my Kindle app and tried to get back into the book I’d been reading in the wee hours, but I couldn’t focus. Reading was like that for me. My brain was either completely engrossed, laser-focused for hours, sometimes reading an entire book in one sitting, or I was like a squirrel hopped up on Pixy Stix, my eyes darting from line to line without any of it actually sinking in.
When I caught myself reading the same sentence for the fifth time, I gave up, dropping my phone in my lap and looking over to see what Jonathan was doing. I had one foot tucked under me and the other on the ground, gently pushing myself from side to side now that I’d discovered this recliner could swivel. His eyes flicked over to me, probably distracted by my inability to sit still, and he let out a sigh. He sounded annoyed. Again.
“Sorry. I’m just bored. What do you usually do when you come up here?”
“I read.” He looked pointedly at the Kindle he was holding.
“Is that all you were going to do for days and days? How long were you planning on being up here, anyway?”
With another sigh, he closed the cover on his Kindle and set it aside. “I did plan to do a lot of reading while I was up here. But sometimes I also watch old movies.” He nodded toward the stack of DVDs sitting under the TV mounted on brackets in the corner. “Or when the weather’s favorable, I go for a hike. What did you think you were going to do once you got up here?”
“I…didn’t really think that far ahead.”
“That tracks,” he said with a roll of his eyes.
“Hey. Don’t be a dick.” He wasn’t totally wrong. Not thinking ahead was one of the hallmarks of my personality. But I was getting tired of him pointing out all my flaws. I beat myself up enough, thank you.
He looked at least a little contrite, though he didn’t offer an apology. I thought about putting in a movie, but I was struck with an idea.
“Wanna play Truth or Dare?”
5
JONATHAN
