Perfecting the Odds (37 page)

***

It was 3:00 when Karis could finally escape school, speeding like an evading criminal to her ailing child, all while her stomach twisted unbearably at the thought of seeing Michael again.

Now
Karis listened quietly just outside the doorway of Robby’s room, and her chest ached at Robby’s word. Even her son was encouraging Michael. Why did it seem like everyone she cared about just pushed her back to him?   Why couldn’t they see that she couldn’t love a man just to have him hurt her again? But that was the problem in itself: she did love him, and not allowing herself accept that she
could
was crumbling the walls around her heart.

Slowly,
Karis tiptoed back out of the hallway to the front door. She opened it again and slammed it, ensuring they would both hear her phony entrance into the house.

“Robby, I’m home!
Where are you, honey,” she called.
Shit, that sounded way too phony.

“In my room, ma!
We’ll be out in a minute. We have to finish this level.”

             
Still clutching her work gear, Karis threw down her laptop bag and purse on the kitchen counter before rushing to her bedroom to check her hair and make-up.
What the hell are you doing, Karis? What do you care what you look like?
And then a thought, one of those thoughts that forms a cartoon-like lightbulb overhead. She grinned wickedly as she ran to her dresser and grabbed her Towson University sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. She stripped off her work clothes and threw on the baggy garments then gave herself a once over in the mirror.

Uh
- uh, not enough.

She ran to her sink,
discarded her contacts to their container, and scrubbed off her make-up, rendering her face a lovely shade of mottled red. She shoved on her black-rimmed glasses and pulled her hair into a high messy bun.
Perfect
, she thought. Completely Unappealing. 

Her broken heart
would still be a battle, but at least she wouldn’t have to deal with him looking at her like she was his last meal on death row. She took a deep breath and made her way down the hall to the living room. She plopped on the couch and grabbed a random magazine from the end table before placing her legs on the coffee table with a thunk.              Within seconds, she caught a waft of his coconuty man scent. Bastard.

“Hello,
Karis.” She looked up as he smirked. “Brushing up on some gaming codes?” Karis furrowed her brow then flipped over the magazine. She had picked up Robby’s recent issue of GamePro. She threw it down with a huff.

She
peered up over her glasses that had already slid down her nose. Why did he have to look so damn sexy all the time? Towering over her, wearing a navy blue suit complete with a damn vest. Who still wears a suit vest?
I mean, really
?  The top two buttons of his shirt were undone (
of course),
his shirt messily pulled out a bit on the side. He clutched his jacket, slung causally over his shoulder. What did he think he was doing? Posing for GQ magazine? She smirked and pushed her glasses farther up her nose. Then she made a fatal error: she scanned his pants.

What the hell!

Clearing her throat first, she said, “
Hi, Michael. Thank you for taking care of Robby. I really appreciate it.” Definitely not curtly enough. She slumped down and fumbled for a new magazine, attempting to look unaffected by his presence. She glanced up at him. “You look… dressed for work.” Okay, that comment made zero sense.

He
grinned, and yes, her vagina fucking loved it. Everything else was still pissed off. Okay, so maybe her nipples liked the damn smile, too.

“
You’re quite welcome, Karis. You look…edible.” Her mouth dropped open, inhaling a rush of useless air.

“Christ, Michael!
Maybe edible like overcooked oatmeal to a frickin’ homeless person,” she growled as he chuckled. “Where’s my son?”

He
then rolled his shoulders and bent his neck a stretching gesture. “Robby’s in the bathroom. Had me sitting on the floor for hours playing Xbox. I’m feeling my age.” He smiled again then sat next to her, close enough so that his thigh brushed hers.
Zing
.

Karis
nervously smashed herself against the arm of the sofa and shifted her eyes toward him.
Please come out of the bathroom, Robby,
she yelled inwardly. Michael lifted one eyebrow.

“You changed
your work clothes pretty quickly.”

“I’m quite efficient, Michael.”

His eyes crinkled with his smile this time, drawing her attention to how much she missed all his different smiles. “Indeed, you are. But I can’t help but think you’re trying to make yourself looked undesirable. You’ve failed…badly, by the way.” He winked before laying his hand on her thigh.

S
he narrowed her eyes at him. “Perhaps I just look crappy every day after work. Disheveled, hag-like even.” Ugh! Surrounded by whiny teenagers all day had definitely ruined her for effective comebacks.

H
e turned his body toward her, resting his bent leg on the cushion of the sofa. He propped his head on his fist and rested his elbow on the back of the couch.
Mercy, he looks sinfully sexy
. His lips parted in preparation for a response. She couldn’t help but stare them.

“
I don’t think it’s possible for you to look shitty. In fact, I think you look the most delicious when you first wake in the morning all mussed up and dewy…ready for various activities,” Michael said, allowing his eyes to trail from hers down her the length of her body.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

She snorted most unattractively
and chased it with an eye roll. “Yeah, well, sucks to be you then. Sorry about your loss.”
Really, Karis?

He
chortled then tapped his head. “Steel trap, sweetheart. I see it whenever I want to.”

“Well, I hope you
don’t get your right hand caught in that steel trap because you’ll need it…you won’t be partaking in any positions with me anymore,” she shot back then crossed her arms tightly. When he burst out laughing, she did everything,
everything
, in her power to not smile. She turned away, biting down hard on her bottom lip. When he finally stopped, she turned around. But he wasn’t smiling anymore, he was gazing
through
her, and she couldn’t stand it. His eyes never failed to shred her.

“That’s one of the things I love about yo
u, Karis. You don’t realize how beautiful you are. Fancy clothes or pajamas, make-up or no make-up. You, my love, exude beauty from the inside out. There’s no covering something that special.”

She
inhaled, pulling in as much confidence out of thin air that she could. “Desperate for one more fuck, are we Michael?” She cringed at her own words.

He
leaned closer. Her breathing stopped; she probably died for those two seconds. With his thumb and index finger, he firmly pulled her chin toward his face, forcing eye contact. “We do more than fuck, Karis.”

Her breath returned
as her nostrils flared. “You’re right, Michael. I make love. You lie and break hearts.” She broke away and made her way to stand behind the kitchen island.

“Karis, I--.”

Robby made his way into the living room before Michael had a chance to
finish his thought. “Hi, mom. I think I’m better now. I feel fine.”

“Robby, you’
re on ibuprofen. Of course you feel better. Get back to bed.”

“But,
isn’t this testing week, Mom?” His eyes filled with concern as he made his way around the island to stand next to her.

She sighed heavily
as she rubbed her temples. “Dammit, Robby. You shouldn’t worry about that sh-stuff.”

“I know how important this week is for you
.” She could feel the tears well in her eyes. She was surrounded by the two men who made cracks in her hard shell every time they spoke. It was overwhelming—no, all consuming, and if she was honest, super frickin’ annoying. She wanted to run. She was in no mood to address those emotions with either of them. She already felt a migraine brewing.

“Robby, please thank Mr.
Finn so that he can be on his way.”

“
What about Grace?”

Karis
placed her elbows on the counter and dropped her head into her hands.

“
Karis? I can go get her from school. It’s no problem,” Michael offered.

Her head remained
in her hands as she responded, “No, Michael. I’ll go get her. You’ve done plenty already. Thank you.”

“Robby, would you excuse your mom and me for a moment.”
Karis’s head jerked up, but beyond his statement, she was even more shocked by how quickly Robby reacted to Michael’s request.

She turned her cold expression on Michael, whose eyes swept warmth over her.
“Michael, even though I appreciate your asking Robby to leave, I really have nothing to say to you.”

Moving from in front of the couch, he strode toward her
, emitting nothing short of measured insistence. “Maybe
I
do.”

Once
she heard Robby’s door close, she crossed her arms. “And what makes you think you deserve to talk to me?”

“I don’t, but you
’re kind and you love me…and I love you, so you’ll listen.”

Her
chin quivered just slightly. “Okay talk, Michael.”

“First,
I must say I love your sweatpants. They suit you in more ways than one.”

She
frowned then rolled her eyes, remembering the screen-printed word TIGER on the back of her pants. She knew there was a reason she never wore them in public. “That’s what you choose to say when I give the chance to talk? What are you, fifteen?”

***

Tough code to crack? More like deciphering ancient hieroglyphics. The island counter set between them formed another wall they would have to scale to reach forgiveness. Their glares met in a match of wit and desire. He was crazy to think he could win her owner with his sexual prowess alone. She was crazy to think she could withstand the love he would frame around her every thought, question, inhibition. But he wasn’t here to overwhelm or pressure her. He had been orchestrating this moment since her phone call.

“
Karis, what would you like to bring to Thanksgiving dinner?”

Her body
lurched in response to his unanticipated question. “Um, what?”

“
What
would you like to bring to Thanksgiving dinner?” His eyes held her disbelieving glare in their clutches, pulling at her response.

“Uh,
whatever your mother would like, of course.”

“Name
something, Karis.”

“O-Okay, how about pies. I
-I could make pies.”

“What kind
s, sweetheart?”

“What kinds do
you like, Michael?” She cringed as if they question was unintended.

“Whatever you bake, darling.”

“Uh, how about apple, lemon meringue, and pumpkin?

“Those sound perfect.”

“Okay.”

“Okay then, see you at 2
o’clock. I’ll text you the directions tonight.”

She cleared her throat.
“O-Okay.”

“Until then,
love,” he murmured and walked to the door. She glanced in his direction as he shut the door behind him.

***

Their conversation was clipped, quick, full of sweltering desire. Their gazes never broke, and at its end, Karis watched Michael exit her house, listening to the rumble of his truck as he drove away. It was then that her breath finally respired. How did he do that to her? How did she manage to use his words as her own breath? Her mind then quickly created a six-degrees-into Michael’s-pants fantasy: Thanksgiving. Dessert. Pie. A la mode. Licking it off Michael’s washboard abs. Wild, toe-curling sex.

That manipulative bastard!

Once her breathing settled from the embarrassing panting, she went to Robby’s room to tell him she was going to pick up Grace, and quickly left to run the errand.

Being the final day of state testing, Wednesday was a blur for Karis, aptly smeared with memories of rung-out assessed teenagers, bleary-eyed teachers, and for Karis, panic. Yes, Thanksgiving--a.k.a. Michael Finnpocolypse—had arrived much how a bug greets the windshield of a speeding car, quick and messy.

Finally succumbing to the insomnia, she rose at five
a.m. on Thursday morning with a churning stomach. Not so great for a day framed with endless feasting. And Karis was, in a word,
petrified
to meet Michael’s family. She felt an unnatural need to impress his mother and sisters…to actually like her. In fact, the idea that they wouldn’t like her, kept her in constant state of nausea. Yes, she reminded herself she’d never see them again; however, that guarantee didn’t stop her from baking each pie three times until she achieved culinary perfection. Even though that spiteful side had her asking, who the hell cared what he frickin’ liked? What Michael deserved was three steaming horseshit pies! She hadn’t received one single text or call from the asshat since Tuesday afternoon. Not that she wanted to, but…his lack of communication surprised her, and maybe hurt just a little.