Good Wood (22 page)

JOE WAS STILL sound asleep when the tickling fingers of dawn pulled me from my slumber. Deliciously sore in all the right places, I was more relaxed than I’d been in a long time. The trials of Thanksgiving Day weren’t forgotten, they just didn’t matter as much to me anymore. I lay there and studied Joe’s face while he slept. He looked so much younger, so peaceful. It was easier to ignore the torments lurking behind those beautiful eyes.

Maybe he’ll want to go get breakfast. I could run down to the bakery and surprise him with something fresh.

Nope. He’ll tell me to leave. Most definitely. I don’t want to be the crazy girl holding baked goods if he does. God knows he has issues with muffins, it might extend to bagels and donuts, too.

I remembered his gentle attempts the night before to get me to talk about why I was such a hot mess. There were definite fingerprints of Old Joe all over that conversation. Though it had been a sweet gesture, I couldn’t go down that road with him. I knew myself well enough to know that I’d fall head over heels in love with Joe in a New York minute. The two of us dabbling as ‘friends with benefits’ would annihilate me. I wasn’t built for that sort of relationship, especially not with him of all people. My dad used to say ‘Molly never does anything half way”. It was a wise observation. I needed to ‘Cowgirl up’, in Granny H. terminology. Get up, get dressed, and get the hell out of dodge.

Moving slowly, I slipped off the bed and searched the apartment for the rest of my paint covered clothes. Thankfully they weren’t in as bad of shape as I expected. Probably because Joe took them off before the real action went down.

Recalling Joe’s impressive skills sent chills through me, and I scrambled to dress in a hurry before my willpower completely evaporated. The protective way he’d held me the night before was even more addictive than the sex, and I could have easily walked right back into his bedroom and started our little cycle all over again. Instead, I took a final moment to check that I had everything and closed the door quietly behind me.

Treading softly down the stairs, I made my way up the block and into the bakery. It smelled like buttery goodness, and I couldn’t wait to drown my sorrows in carbs. I needed the biggest coffee they had-preferably one the size of a bucket. I was surprised to see the place virtually abandoned. One lone customer sat by the window and a twenty-something hipster was running the counter. Then I remembered it was Black Friday morning and everyone was either sleeping in or bitchslapping each other over cheap Xboxes.

Hipster boy smiled at me from under his curled mustache, and I wondered what he thought of my “just been fucked’ hair and paint-splotched clothes. I decided I really didn’t give a shit and asked how big the to-go cups were. He showed me and I ordered a cheese Danish and two large coffees. The bell of the door chimed and glancing over, I saw Joe rush in. He stopped just inside the door, gasping for breath as if he’d been running from something. He’d obviously thrown on the first items of clothing he’d found, because it was cold outside and he was dressed in a ‘wife beater’ and red sweat pants. His shoes were untied and he had no socks on. The middle-aged lady by the window turned and immediately undressed him with her eyes.

“Can you add a bear claw to that?” I tossed the question at Mr. Moustache, figuring Joe and I were about to have breakfast after all. He nodded in response, giving a long and curious sideways glance in Joe’s direction.

“I think we should do something sometime.” Joe blurted loudly and his statement echoed in the nearly empty room. I just blinked at him, too surprised and stunned by this turn of events to reply. As if just realizing he had an audience, Joe glanced over at the guy behind the counter. Hipster dude was in the midst of pouring my coffees. A knowing look bloomed on the young man’s face and his eyes flicked back and forth between us as if he were at a tennis match. Without moving from his spot by the door, Joe set his jaw and waited for me to respond. Finally I managed to find my voice.

“You mean besides have lots of sex?” I called this back to him at the same volume he’d used with me, and enjoyed the beat red cheeks my response elicited. His face was now the color of his sweat pants and the woman by the window scraped her chair legs as she turned her seat completely around for a better view of the show.

Joe glanced toward the sound and reacted to her presence with an uncomfortable wave. She waved back, obviously delighted by the opportunity for audience participation. Heaving an exasperated sigh, he turned back to meet my eyes and replied. “Yes.”

“What exactly did you have in mind?” I called to him, pulling out my debit card and waving it in the air to get the stunned employee’s attention. The young man scrambled forward with my coffees. I could tell he was struggling to contain his laughter. Joe shot him a lethal look and quickly crossed the room to join me where I stood at the cash register.

“I don’t know. Dinner, maybe?” His volume had finally reached an appropriate level. I handed him my spare coffee without thinking about it.

“Hmmmm…that sounds an awful lot like a
date
.” I frowned. I could feel my heart flutter and I wanted to beat it back with a hammer.

“So?” He whispered, taking a test sip of the coffee. His lips were terribly distracting and the direction of the conversation was so off course I couldn’t get my bearings. Flustered, I shoved the bear claw at him, which he took from me absently. I stuffed my debit card into my pocket.

“We don’t date, remember.” I picked up my coffee and Danish and headed for the door. He arrived there ahead of me and pushed it open with his elbow.

“I keep breaking all of my rules with you.” He was watching my face carefully as he spoke. I stopped just before the doorway and locked eyes with him for emphasis.

“Yeah. About that. Look…last night was all my fault, but we’ve got to stop doing this. We just keep compounding our mistakes.” I started to go through the door, but he purposely stepped into my path.

“Go out with me, Molly.”

It was like he’d kicked me in the chest. Thankfully, my brain was still firing on all cylinders and my weathered walls were still intact. I sidestepped him and headed toward my car. “You don’t want to take me out, Joe. I’m not your type.”

I hurried across the parking lot, glancing over my shoulder to see him looking after me. Confusion and frustration marred his gorgeous face. I sat my coffee and pastry on the top of my car and was about to unlock the door when I heard his deep voice call out to me. “I can’t keep my hands off of you. If you aren’t my type, little girl, I sure as hell don’t know what is.”

I dropped my keys, unable to believe my ears. Turning in his direction, I froze as his serious gaze held me in place. He hurried over to me, his uneaten bear claw in one hand and the coffee in the other. He abandoned them on the hood of my car and cupped my face in his hands.

“Joe…” His name came out as a weak sigh, like I was pleading for mercy, and part of me was. I was getting everything I’d always dreamt of presented to me on a silver platter. It was too good to be true and I was far too superstitious to believe otherwise. Of course, I’d always wanted him to chase after me. Now my biggest concern was that he wasn’t lying to himself.

He looked down at me, his eyes darting back and forth as if trying to read the story behind mine. “I’m not playin’, Molly. I can’t stay away from you. I’ve tried.”

“Are you
sure
you want to?” My heart was in my throat, choking me. I felt my brow furrow. “Are you sure you’re
ready
?”

His lips pressed into a thin line and he dropped his hands from my cheeks and put them on his hips. “So you know.”

“Graham told me after he kicked you off the site.” I murmured nervously.

He nodded and I watched him process this. After a minute I dropped my gaze to my feet, sure he’d realized what a bad idea this whole thing was. When he reached out and ran his hand up my arm and stepped closer to me. Both of his hands carefully gripped my shoulders. “Honestly, I have no idea if I’m ready but I’m 100% sure I
want
to.”

“Fair enough.” It was my turn to nod thoughtfully.
Dating.
The word had never sounded so threatening. So taboo. Considering he’d already had me in just about every conceivable position in the Kama Sutra, what could dinner and a show hurt, really?

“Well, I guess we’ve already done a lot worse. Why not?” My saucy tone made him smile and the sight of it left me a bit breathless.

“Tonight?” His hand was in my hair, stroking it.

I shook my head, knowing regret was plastered on my forehead like a neon sign. “I’m working.

“How about tomorrow?” He whispered as his lips touched mine.

“Sweet baby Jesus on a tricycle!” We abruptly pulled apart. The woman from the bakery stood close by, frowning at us with her hand on her hip. She had apparently made the mistake of parking next to me. “Would you two just get a room already?”

It was Sunday afternoon before we finally had our date. I’d worked late into the night on Friday feeding the bar crowd on Sixth. Some drunken guy with dreadlocks had nearly ruined my night when he reached in the window and grabbed Stacy’s chest. Sanchez lit out after him and I had a temporary panic attack that he might end up back in prison for assault again. Fortunately dreadlock guy could run surprisingly fast. I had my lame little version of an H.R. lecture with both of them. It was peppered with several colorful adjectives but either Stacy and Dirty S. really like working for me, or they were both too inexperienced to accuse me of any impropriety.

After all of that, I needed a full day to recover. At least that was what I told Joe. In truth, I wanted a little more time to hash out my concerns about dating him. I slept in, went for a meandering walk, even lounged on the couch and watched a cheesy 80’s movie. I puzzled, pondered, asked myself “what if” this and “what if’” that. After examining every angle ad nauseaum, I still ended up shaving every inch of my body and painting my toenails. Because
nothing
was going to stop me from going out with Joe Jensen. Not even me.

I texted Joe to ask how I should dress. When he texted back that I should dress casually, I heaved a sigh of relief. I’d spent way too much time working in Michelin Star restaurants to be impressed by them, and I just wanted to kick back, relax, and get to know Joe in the non-biblical way.

I’d tried on three different outfits before settling on a periwinkle sweater and dark blue jeans. Shoving on my brown biker boots, I ran the brush through my long hair one last time. When the knock on my door came, I had the worst case of butterflies in my entire life.

Seriously, Molly? He’s already seen you naked.

With a shaky exhale, I yanked open the door.

There he was, leaning against the doorframe with a large bouquet of flowers. The stunning yellow roses and the hunter green of his shirt played up his eyes, and I struggled not to stare. “Sorry. They’re not wild ones.”

“They’re beautiful.” I felt my cheeks redden and I rushed into the kitchen as much to hide my emotions as to dig for a vase in my cupboard.