So not over that.
I would very much like to revisit that.
I would very much like to take Nora out on a date. To let her know this isn’t just a one-night-stand thing to me; this is so much more.
But that’s not what I was referencing.
“We already touched upon the sex thing—I’m talking about Dealia.”
“What about her?” Nora asks casually.
“She was there at the shop the other day . . . it was awkward.”
“That it was, wasn’t it? Love invigorating moments like that, don’t you? They get your blood pumping, remind you that you’re alive.”
“Moments like that also make your scrotum turn inside out in horror.” Took me a few hours to beg the poor guy to come back down.
Her head falls back as she laughs. Hell, what I wouldn’t give to move my lips along her neck right now, to taste her skin, to make my way to her lips.
“If I knew your balls shriveled up in my shop, I would have taken you to the back to blow them back up to the right size.”
I play along. “And how exactly would you do that?”
“Blowing on your penis, of course.”
Of course.
Just like that.
Jesus.
I swallow hard. “Now that wouldn’t have made things extremely awkward.”
“It would have been a conversational moment, for sure.”
I raise an eyebrow at her casual response. “Aren’t you worried about Dealia?”
“Are you?”
“She’s my ex-wife. I worry a little. Even though things ended badly, I still wouldn’t want her feelings to get hurt.”
Nora smooths her hand over my chest. “I think she’s fine.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Nora sits up on her knees and then straddles my lap, her hands falling to my shoulders. “Because, I talked to her about it.”
“You . . . you what?” I ask, my stomach bottoming out. “You told her we slept together?”
“Yup.” She smirks.
“And what the hell did she say?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
FORD
“Are you sure?” I ask my mom over the phone. “I can come and get you.”
“No, not necessary. We’re having a lovely time with Tom and Linda. And we don’t want you driving in this weather.”
I glance toward Palmer’s room, which is empty. The reason I know this is because I went to ask her if she wanted to eat dinner with Larkin and me, extending an olive branch, and after a while of knocking, I opened her room to see that she wasn’t there.
“Have you heard from Palmer?” I ask.
“Yes, she’s with Dr. Beau.”
“Uhh . . . what?” I ask.
“Apparently he was driving back into town and spotted her on a hike. He had to redo her cast. She’s fine, though.”
“Oh, okay. And you’re sure you’re okay. Dad’s okay? He has his medicine?”
“You know I always carry it with me. Now stop worrying and enjoy your night with Larkin.”
“Don’t say it like that,” I say.
“Like what, dear?”
I lower my voice. “Like something is going to happen.”
“I would never imply such a thing. She’s your assistant, after all.”
“Goodbye, Mom.”
“Bye, sweetie.”
I hang up and toss my phone on the bed. I borrowed a pair of sweatpants from my dad—crotch still intact—and I head down to the main level, where Larkin is currently making pasta and sauce because that was what was in the pantry.
When I reach the kitchen, I catch her swaying to the simple instrumental music playing in the old CD player attached to the bottom side of the cabinets. Her hair is pulled up into a bun, and she’s still in her leggings, but she borrowed one of my old Watchful Wanderers sweatshirts that was hanging in my closet, which looks . . . hell, it looks damn good on her.
But the best part is that she’s not actually cooking on the stove or with my parents’ pots and pans.
Instead, she broke out the camping gear that was in the garage, set the cooking utensils up in the kitchen, and then, in the living room . . . you guessed it, she put up the two-person tent. To top off the night, she moved the couch cushions around the space to look like “boulders” and is using my parents’ wood-burning fireplace as our “firepit.” It’s creative, cute, and is setting the tone for what’s to come in this journey of “finding myself.”
Once the storm intensified, we both thought it would be smart to stay in place until it was over. It hasn’t let up yet, so Larkin chose to get started on sharing her childhood with me, which includes faux camping and all.