Wallbanger
Page 34
And straight into Simon, who was in front of my door.
“Okay, you are officially my stalker! There’s no more zucchini bread, mister. I hope you made that loaf last because there is no more for you,” I warned, pressing him back from my front door with my pointer finger.
“I know, I know. I’m actually here on official business.” He laughed, throwing up his arms in defeat.
“Walk with me?” I asked, nodding toward the stairs.
“I’m headed out as well. Going to rent a movie,” he explained as we started down.
“People still rent movies?” I joked, rounding the corner.
“Yes, people still rent movies. Just for that you’re gonna have to watch whatever I pick out,” he replied, raising an eyebrow.
“Tonight?”
“Sure, why not. I was coming over to see if you wanted to hang out. I owe you for dinner from the other night, and I got an urge to watch something spooky…” He launched into The Twilight Zone theme.
I couldn’t help but laugh at his claw hands and crossed eyes. “Last time someone asked me to rent a movie it was code for ‘let’s make out on the couch.’ Am I safe with you?”
“Please! We’ve got that truce, remember? I am all about the truce. So, tonight?”
“I wish I could, but I have plans tonight. Tomorrow night?” We rounded the last stair and entered the entryway.
“Tomorrow I can do. Come on over after work. But I get to pick the movie, and I’m making you dinner. Least I can do for my little cockblocker.” He smirked, and I punched him in the arm.
“Please stop calling me that. Otherwise I won’t bring dessert,” I said, lowering my voice and batting my eyelashes like a fool.
“Dessert?” he asked, holding the door open as I walked out into the night.
“Mmm-hmm. I picked up some apples yesterday while I was out, and I’ve been craving pie all week. How does that sound?” I asked, scanning the street for James.
“Apple pie? Homemade apple pie? Christ, woman, are you trying to kill me? Mmm…” He smacked his lips and looked at me hungrily.
“Why, sir, you look like you’ve seen something you’d like to eat,” I offered in my best Scarlett.
“You show up with apple pie tomorrow night, and I may not let you leave,” he breathed, his cheeks rosy and his messy hair blowing in the cool air.
“That would be terrible,” I whispered. Wow. “Okay, so, go get your movie,” I said, playfully shoving the six feet of hot in front of me. Remember the harem! I shouted inside my head.
“Caroline?” a concerned voice came from behind me, and I turned to see James walking toward us.
“Hey, James,” I called out, stepping away from Simon with a giggle.
“You ready to go?” he asked, looking at Simon carefully. Simon straightened to his full height and looked back, just as carefully.
“Yep, ready to go. Simon, this is James. James, Simon.” They leaned in to shake hands, and I could see that they both exerted a little extra force, neither seeming to want to be the one to let go first. I rolled my eyes. Yes, boys. You can both write your names in the snow. The question is, who would make bigger letters?
“Nice to meet you, James. It was James, right? I’m Simon. Simon Parker.”
“That’s correct. James. James Brown.”
I saw the beginnings of a laugh on Simon’s face.
“Okay, James, we should get going. Simon, I’ll talk to you later,” I interrupted, ending the handshake of the century.
James turned toward where his car was double-parked, and Simon looked at me.
“Brown? James Brown?” he mouthed, and I squelched my own laugh.
“Shush,” I mouthed back, smiling at James when he turned back to me.
“Nice to meet you, Simon. See you around,” James called, steering me to the car with his hand on the small of my back. I didn’t think twice about it, as that’s how we always used to walk together, but Simon’s eyes widened a little at the sight.
Hmm…
James opened the door for me, then headed around to his side. Simon was still standing in front of our building when we drove away. I rubbed my hands together in front of the heater and grinned at James as he steered through the traffic.
“So, where are we headed?”
We made ourselves comfortable in the swanky bar he’d selected. It seemed very James: chic and sophisticated, and laced with hidden sexuality. The deep red leather banquettes, thinly cushioned and cool, ensconced us as we settled in and began the process of getting to know each other after so many years apart.
As we waited for a server to come by, I studied his face. He still looked the same: closely cropped sandy blond hair, intense eyes, and a lean frame folded in on itself like a cat’s. Age had only improved his good looks, and his carefully torn jeans and black cashmere sweater clung to a body I could see was in great shape. James had been a rock climber, relentless in his pursuit of the sport. He viewed each boulder, each mountain as an obstacle to overcome, something to be conquered.
I’d gone climbing with him a few times toward the end of our relationship, even though I grew up skittish about heights. But watching him climb, seeing the sinewy muscles stretch and manipulate his body into positions that seemed unnatural, was a heady experience, and I’d pounced on him those evenings in the tent like a woman possessed.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, interrupting my musings.
“I was thinking about how much you used to climb. Is that something you still do?”
“It is, but I don’t get as much free time as I used to. They keep me pretty busy at the firm. I try and get out to Big Basin as often as I can,” he added, smiling as our waitress approached.
“What can I get you two?” she asked, placing napkins in front of us. “She’ll have a dry vodka martini, three olives, and for me bring three fingers of Macallan,” he answered. The waitress nodded and left to fill our order.
I studied him as he sat back, then turned his gaze to me.
“Oh, Caroline, I’m sorry. Is that still your drink?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “As it happens, yes. But what if I didn’t want that tonight?” I answered primly.
“My mistake. Of course, what did you want to drink?” He waved the waitress back over.
“I’ll have a dry vodka martini with three olives, please,” I told her with a wink.
She looked confused.
“Okay, you are officially my stalker! There’s no more zucchini bread, mister. I hope you made that loaf last because there is no more for you,” I warned, pressing him back from my front door with my pointer finger.
“I know, I know. I’m actually here on official business.” He laughed, throwing up his arms in defeat.
“Walk with me?” I asked, nodding toward the stairs.
“I’m headed out as well. Going to rent a movie,” he explained as we started down.
“People still rent movies?” I joked, rounding the corner.
“Yes, people still rent movies. Just for that you’re gonna have to watch whatever I pick out,” he replied, raising an eyebrow.
“Tonight?”
“Sure, why not. I was coming over to see if you wanted to hang out. I owe you for dinner from the other night, and I got an urge to watch something spooky…” He launched into The Twilight Zone theme.
I couldn’t help but laugh at his claw hands and crossed eyes. “Last time someone asked me to rent a movie it was code for ‘let’s make out on the couch.’ Am I safe with you?”
“Please! We’ve got that truce, remember? I am all about the truce. So, tonight?”
“I wish I could, but I have plans tonight. Tomorrow night?” We rounded the last stair and entered the entryway.
“Tomorrow I can do. Come on over after work. But I get to pick the movie, and I’m making you dinner. Least I can do for my little cockblocker.” He smirked, and I punched him in the arm.
“Please stop calling me that. Otherwise I won’t bring dessert,” I said, lowering my voice and batting my eyelashes like a fool.
“Dessert?” he asked, holding the door open as I walked out into the night.
“Mmm-hmm. I picked up some apples yesterday while I was out, and I’ve been craving pie all week. How does that sound?” I asked, scanning the street for James.
“Apple pie? Homemade apple pie? Christ, woman, are you trying to kill me? Mmm…” He smacked his lips and looked at me hungrily.
“Why, sir, you look like you’ve seen something you’d like to eat,” I offered in my best Scarlett.
“You show up with apple pie tomorrow night, and I may not let you leave,” he breathed, his cheeks rosy and his messy hair blowing in the cool air.
“That would be terrible,” I whispered. Wow. “Okay, so, go get your movie,” I said, playfully shoving the six feet of hot in front of me. Remember the harem! I shouted inside my head.
“Caroline?” a concerned voice came from behind me, and I turned to see James walking toward us.
“Hey, James,” I called out, stepping away from Simon with a giggle.
“You ready to go?” he asked, looking at Simon carefully. Simon straightened to his full height and looked back, just as carefully.
“Yep, ready to go. Simon, this is James. James, Simon.” They leaned in to shake hands, and I could see that they both exerted a little extra force, neither seeming to want to be the one to let go first. I rolled my eyes. Yes, boys. You can both write your names in the snow. The question is, who would make bigger letters?
“Nice to meet you, James. It was James, right? I’m Simon. Simon Parker.”
“That’s correct. James. James Brown.”
I saw the beginnings of a laugh on Simon’s face.
“Okay, James, we should get going. Simon, I’ll talk to you later,” I interrupted, ending the handshake of the century.
James turned toward where his car was double-parked, and Simon looked at me.
“Brown? James Brown?” he mouthed, and I squelched my own laugh.
“Shush,” I mouthed back, smiling at James when he turned back to me.
“Nice to meet you, Simon. See you around,” James called, steering me to the car with his hand on the small of my back. I didn’t think twice about it, as that’s how we always used to walk together, but Simon’s eyes widened a little at the sight.
Hmm…
James opened the door for me, then headed around to his side. Simon was still standing in front of our building when we drove away. I rubbed my hands together in front of the heater and grinned at James as he steered through the traffic.
“So, where are we headed?”
We made ourselves comfortable in the swanky bar he’d selected. It seemed very James: chic and sophisticated, and laced with hidden sexuality. The deep red leather banquettes, thinly cushioned and cool, ensconced us as we settled in and began the process of getting to know each other after so many years apart.
As we waited for a server to come by, I studied his face. He still looked the same: closely cropped sandy blond hair, intense eyes, and a lean frame folded in on itself like a cat’s. Age had only improved his good looks, and his carefully torn jeans and black cashmere sweater clung to a body I could see was in great shape. James had been a rock climber, relentless in his pursuit of the sport. He viewed each boulder, each mountain as an obstacle to overcome, something to be conquered.
I’d gone climbing with him a few times toward the end of our relationship, even though I grew up skittish about heights. But watching him climb, seeing the sinewy muscles stretch and manipulate his body into positions that seemed unnatural, was a heady experience, and I’d pounced on him those evenings in the tent like a woman possessed.
“What are you thinking about?” he asked, interrupting my musings.
“I was thinking about how much you used to climb. Is that something you still do?”
“It is, but I don’t get as much free time as I used to. They keep me pretty busy at the firm. I try and get out to Big Basin as often as I can,” he added, smiling as our waitress approached.
“What can I get you two?” she asked, placing napkins in front of us. “She’ll have a dry vodka martini, three olives, and for me bring three fingers of Macallan,” he answered. The waitress nodded and left to fill our order.
I studied him as he sat back, then turned his gaze to me.
“Oh, Caroline, I’m sorry. Is that still your drink?”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “As it happens, yes. But what if I didn’t want that tonight?” I answered primly.
“My mistake. Of course, what did you want to drink?” He waved the waitress back over.
“I’ll have a dry vodka martini with three olives, please,” I told her with a wink.
She looked confused.
