Page 51 of Fighting Words

“Or what?”

Or what?

I wet my lip, and Iseeher shiver.Summer, Summer, Summer. You’re not fooling anyone.

“Fine. I’ll clean them up. My, my, you’re extra moody this morning. Didn’t sleep well last night?”

I think of my shower…my long shower that only left me mildly satisfied. All those feelings from last night come rushing back in now. The tension between us didn’t die overnight; it grew teeth.

“What happened to the shy Summer? The nice quiet girl who showed up here at my doorstep begging me to let her stay?”

Her eyes spark. “You know, it’s funny. That’s the way I usually am, shy and quiet. Ask anyone. I’m not this person.Youbring it out of me. The very worst.” She cocks her head and props her hands on her hips, matching my stance. “Proud?”

“Extremely.” I head her way, needing to get back out into the hall. She doesn’t move though, which means we’re chest to chest again, always too close. I look down at her, and she lifts her chin up in a show of defiance. For a brief moment, I let my gaze trail down her delicate neck to her collarbone peeking out of her loose nightshirt. She’s not wearing a bra, and I can see the effect I’m having on her, her body’s innate response to me. What a dangerous game, being this close. “I’m going into town today.”

“What about work?”

I can’t do it this morning. If I stay in this house with her, that nightshirt will come off. I’ll know the taste of her lips, and everything else. I’ll make her forget Andrew ever fucking existed. All before we’ve had our coffee…

“We’ll reconvene tomorrow,” I say, sliding around her so I can put distance between us.

“You’re not giving up, are you?” she calls after me. “We’re finally getting somewhere!”

She’s right, we are. I don’t usually like to stall momentum once I have it, but getting out of here is all I can think about right now.

“Tomorrow,” I promise.

I change quickly and grab my coat off the hook downstairs. It’s freezing out. The temperature somehow dropped even more last night. The sky overhead is overcast and gray. Even if there’s no snow in the forecast for today, there’s enough piled up outside to keep me from continuing work on the fence later.

Truly, there’s not much I need in town, but it’s fine. I stop in and get breakfast and an espresso at the coffee shop. I had the forethought to bring a book with me, so at least I’m partially distracted from the problems that await me at home.

Once I’m done eating, I give Patrick a call because it’s expected. A weekly check-in is the least I can do, even if it’s only a few minutes. This week, for the first time in a long while, I have good news to report.

“I’m working,” I tell him once the call connects.

“On the book?”

I’m not surprised he wants clarity. I’m sure he half-expects me to be talking about my fence project.

“Yes. Summer and I have started plotting. It’s loose and it’s only been a few days, but the spark is there.”

I can feel his relief through the phone. That heavy sigh speaks volumes, as if he’s unburdening his soul.

“I haven’t put pen to paper yet,” I say, not wanting him to get too carried away with hope.

“That’s okay.”

It’s quiet for a moment.

“Is she helping?”

I’m glad he can’t see my responding smile through the phone. Helping? I’m not sure that’s the word for it.

“She’s a force to be reckoned with, I’ll just say that.”

“Interesting,” he muses. “I won’t say anything to InkWell yet.”

“Of course. There’s nothing to say anyway. It could all go up in flames.”

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