Sweet Dreams
Page 122
I got up on an elbow and noticed I was alone in the bed and the dark denim curtains were closed. I’d never been in the room when the curtains were closed but I was right in my estimation of what it would be like when they were pulled, the room was nearly pitch.
I threw back the covers, wandered to the windows facing the front of the house and pulled back a side, looking to the right to see if Tate was having coffee on the deck.
The chairs were empty.
I pulled open the other side of the curtains and let the sun shine in and then turned to the bed, seeing the note on Tate’s nightstand. I walked to it, picked it up and read it.
Ace,
Getting Bub.
That was all it said but, then again, that said it all.
I dropped the note and went into the bathroom, looked into the mirror and that was when I saw my hair out to there. I stared at myself in frozen horror for several long seconds, thinking about all who saw me with wild, rat’s nest hair three times the volume of my normal hair. Then I allowed myself an inner and outer cringe that the three people who saw me thus were the three people I would never want to see me thus until the day I died. Then, considering I couldn’t travel back in time to find some way to change this, I stopped staring at myself in horror and did my morning routine, adding wetting down my hair and digging through my bottles and jars to find the leave in conditioner Dominic sold me after I told him about my swimming.
I found it, worked some through my hair, walked out of the bathroom, made the bed and wandered into the closet. There I stood staring at my suitcases laid open on the floor, my clothes part folded and tidy, part exploded and a mess.
“Her car’s in my garage, her clothes in my closet and they’re gonna stay there.”
Tate’s words to Neeta last night slid through my head and I wondered if that meant he wanted me to move in. If he wanted me to paint more rooms. If this gave me the all clear to weed his garden and take him couch shopping.
I bit my lip and stared at the suitcases, uncertain.
If I unpacked and he wasn’t ready for that yet, I’d feel like an idiot.
I wanted to unpack because I loved him and he said he loved me and I liked his son and his house and I wanted my clothes to stay in his closet, my car in his garage.
But he hadn’t asked me.
I bit my lip harder. Then I heard the sounds of Tate and Jonas coming home.
I grabbed a pair of jeans shorts, the bra that matched the undies I had on and the first t-shirt my hand could find. I had the bra and shorts on and was pulling the t-shirt over my head when I heard Tate close.
I yanked the t-shirt down and turned to the door. He was standing in it and staring at my suitcases.
I bit my lip again, wondering if his thoughts were similar to mine when looking at my suitcases, or if they were (hopefully not) vastly different.
Then I said, “You went to get Jonas without me.”
His eyes came to mine. “Mornin’ to you too, babe.”
“Um…” I mumbled and tucked some hair behind my ear. “Mornin’.”
His eyes followed my hand, then roamed my head before they came back to mine. “You tamed your hair.”
He would comment on my hair.
“Uh… yeah,” I muttered realizing I felt self-conscious and even shy. Why, I had no earthly clue, I just did.
“Why?” he asked.
“Why?” I repeated.
“Yeah, Ace,” he said coming into the closet. “Why?”
As he got close, I tipped my head back to look at him. “It was a rat’s nest.”
His hand came up, his fingers sliding into the wetted hair at the side of my head then through it, down the length pulling it over my shoulder. The tips of his fingers fiddled with the ends of my hair at my breast as he watched, then his gaze came to my face.
“It was you,” he stated.
“Me?” I asked.
He got closer. “Yeah, babe, you.” His fingers left my hair so his hand could go to where my head met my neck and he tilted my head back further with the pad of his thumb against the underside of my jaw, doing this while his other hand came to rest at my waist. “Wild,” he said softly. “Hot. I liked it.”
“You liked my hair in a rat’s nest?” I asked it like I couldn’t believe it mainly because I couldn’t. I had a lot of hair normally, it was hard enough to tame with beaucoup products, wielding a roller brush and an industrial strength hair dryer. When untamed, there was so much of it, no other word for it, it was huge.
His thumb slid along my jaw and the touch, the warmth coming from his body, his proximity and the look in his eyes made my ni**les tingle.
“I liked it wild,” he said.
“Oh,” I replied because there was no other response to that and I liked that he liked my hair wild. That said, I pretty much liked that he liked anything about me.
He grinned.
I stared at his mouth as it started to get closer.
“Is Jonas here?” I asked against his lips.
“Kiss me good mornin’,” he demanded against mine, ignoring my question.
“Tate.”
Both his hands tightened. “Babe.”
I gave in, put my hands to his abs and pressed my mouth to his.
Then I pulled back and reiterated, “Is Jonas here?”
Tate’s hand slid back to wrap around my neck. “He’s here, he’s still half-asleep which means we got about ten minutes to make out in the closet. So, like I said, kiss me good mornin’.”
“I just did,” I reminded him.
“You love me?” he asked suddenly and, at his question, my stomach flipped then twisted.
I stared up at him unsure of myself and back to shy.
Then, without me telling it to do so, my mouth whispered, “Yes.”
“Then f**kin’ kiss me good morning, Ace,” he demanded softly but firmly.
“Oh all right,” I grumbled because he was being bossy and also because he didn’t return the sentiment.
My hands moved to curl around the sides of his waist, I went up on my toes and pressed my lips to his, harder this time, my mouth opening under his. His hand slid to the small of my back, pressing in, the fingers of his other hand slid into my hair and his head slanted as his tongue glided into my mouth.
At the taste of him, I melted into him, my arms locking around him and we kissed good morning.
When his mouth detached from mine, he muttered, “Now that’s good morning.”
He wasn’t wrong about that.
“You went to get Jonas without me,” I took us full circle.
I threw back the covers, wandered to the windows facing the front of the house and pulled back a side, looking to the right to see if Tate was having coffee on the deck.
The chairs were empty.
I pulled open the other side of the curtains and let the sun shine in and then turned to the bed, seeing the note on Tate’s nightstand. I walked to it, picked it up and read it.
Ace,
Getting Bub.
That was all it said but, then again, that said it all.
I dropped the note and went into the bathroom, looked into the mirror and that was when I saw my hair out to there. I stared at myself in frozen horror for several long seconds, thinking about all who saw me with wild, rat’s nest hair three times the volume of my normal hair. Then I allowed myself an inner and outer cringe that the three people who saw me thus were the three people I would never want to see me thus until the day I died. Then, considering I couldn’t travel back in time to find some way to change this, I stopped staring at myself in horror and did my morning routine, adding wetting down my hair and digging through my bottles and jars to find the leave in conditioner Dominic sold me after I told him about my swimming.
I found it, worked some through my hair, walked out of the bathroom, made the bed and wandered into the closet. There I stood staring at my suitcases laid open on the floor, my clothes part folded and tidy, part exploded and a mess.
“Her car’s in my garage, her clothes in my closet and they’re gonna stay there.”
Tate’s words to Neeta last night slid through my head and I wondered if that meant he wanted me to move in. If he wanted me to paint more rooms. If this gave me the all clear to weed his garden and take him couch shopping.
I bit my lip and stared at the suitcases, uncertain.
If I unpacked and he wasn’t ready for that yet, I’d feel like an idiot.
I wanted to unpack because I loved him and he said he loved me and I liked his son and his house and I wanted my clothes to stay in his closet, my car in his garage.
But he hadn’t asked me.
I bit my lip harder. Then I heard the sounds of Tate and Jonas coming home.
I grabbed a pair of jeans shorts, the bra that matched the undies I had on and the first t-shirt my hand could find. I had the bra and shorts on and was pulling the t-shirt over my head when I heard Tate close.
I yanked the t-shirt down and turned to the door. He was standing in it and staring at my suitcases.
I bit my lip again, wondering if his thoughts were similar to mine when looking at my suitcases, or if they were (hopefully not) vastly different.
Then I said, “You went to get Jonas without me.”
His eyes came to mine. “Mornin’ to you too, babe.”
“Um…” I mumbled and tucked some hair behind my ear. “Mornin’.”
His eyes followed my hand, then roamed my head before they came back to mine. “You tamed your hair.”
He would comment on my hair.
“Uh… yeah,” I muttered realizing I felt self-conscious and even shy. Why, I had no earthly clue, I just did.
“Why?” he asked.
“Why?” I repeated.
“Yeah, Ace,” he said coming into the closet. “Why?”
As he got close, I tipped my head back to look at him. “It was a rat’s nest.”
His hand came up, his fingers sliding into the wetted hair at the side of my head then through it, down the length pulling it over my shoulder. The tips of his fingers fiddled with the ends of my hair at my breast as he watched, then his gaze came to my face.
“It was you,” he stated.
“Me?” I asked.
He got closer. “Yeah, babe, you.” His fingers left my hair so his hand could go to where my head met my neck and he tilted my head back further with the pad of his thumb against the underside of my jaw, doing this while his other hand came to rest at my waist. “Wild,” he said softly. “Hot. I liked it.”
“You liked my hair in a rat’s nest?” I asked it like I couldn’t believe it mainly because I couldn’t. I had a lot of hair normally, it was hard enough to tame with beaucoup products, wielding a roller brush and an industrial strength hair dryer. When untamed, there was so much of it, no other word for it, it was huge.
His thumb slid along my jaw and the touch, the warmth coming from his body, his proximity and the look in his eyes made my ni**les tingle.
“I liked it wild,” he said.
“Oh,” I replied because there was no other response to that and I liked that he liked my hair wild. That said, I pretty much liked that he liked anything about me.
He grinned.
I stared at his mouth as it started to get closer.
“Is Jonas here?” I asked against his lips.
“Kiss me good mornin’,” he demanded against mine, ignoring my question.
“Tate.”
Both his hands tightened. “Babe.”
I gave in, put my hands to his abs and pressed my mouth to his.
Then I pulled back and reiterated, “Is Jonas here?”
Tate’s hand slid back to wrap around my neck. “He’s here, he’s still half-asleep which means we got about ten minutes to make out in the closet. So, like I said, kiss me good mornin’.”
“I just did,” I reminded him.
“You love me?” he asked suddenly and, at his question, my stomach flipped then twisted.
I stared up at him unsure of myself and back to shy.
Then, without me telling it to do so, my mouth whispered, “Yes.”
“Then f**kin’ kiss me good morning, Ace,” he demanded softly but firmly.
“Oh all right,” I grumbled because he was being bossy and also because he didn’t return the sentiment.
My hands moved to curl around the sides of his waist, I went up on my toes and pressed my lips to his, harder this time, my mouth opening under his. His hand slid to the small of my back, pressing in, the fingers of his other hand slid into my hair and his head slanted as his tongue glided into my mouth.
At the taste of him, I melted into him, my arms locking around him and we kissed good morning.
When his mouth detached from mine, he muttered, “Now that’s good morning.”
He wasn’t wrong about that.
“You went to get Jonas without me,” I took us full circle.
