Let Me: Let Me Fall Part 27

"C'mon, I don't get any accommodations on account of my disability?"

"Screw that, Rivers."

We each picked one letter. I drew an E, she drew the Z.

"You get to go first. That's a slight advantage."

"Not when you're pretty much stuck with all vowels." I grumbled as I put down EAT as my first word. "Holy s.h.i.+t, I'm gonna get creamed. What is that, six points?"

"Yep. Thank goodness you snagged the double word score." She hesitated a minute and then looked up at me with a guilty expression.

"What is it?"

"I'm not trying to be obnoxious, really," she said, breaking into laughter as she took all of her seven letters and laid them down, piggy backing off the letter T in EAT to spell out QUIXOTIC.

"Holy s.h.i.+t! Did you just get a double word score, too? That's just not right."

She could barely get the words out she was laughing so hard. "No! Just a double letter on the Q and...the O and the I. Total score," she emulated a drumroll, "eighty-eight points." She cringed as she announced it.

"No feeling bad for the reading disabled kid allowed," I joked. "s.h.i.+t. I'm gonna go down like the t.i.tanic. I forgot you get that fifty point bonus for using all seven letters."

I built off of her Q and laid down the word QUONDAM. "Thirty-eight points." I looked at her, smug. "I'll catch up."

"What the h.e.l.l is that? Is that even a real word?"

"Do I smell a challenge, Harris?"

She backed down. "No. I'd lose. You always had a great vocabulary. So what does it mean?"

"From long ago...like a former time."

"Hmph." She nodded as she went about rearranging her letters.

"Crazy, right? I could tell you what any word means but for the longest time, I couldn't recognize the word...read it."

"Is it better? I mean the other night...at the restaurant."

I smiled, warming to the memory of how she looked at me tenderly when she made that save. "Yeah, I almost tanked on one of those foodie words...thanks. I think that was nerves more than anything."

She put down MOOL. "Now I'm just trying to stump you," she teased.

"Nice try. Soil, right, but like specifically the dirt on a grave."

She let out a frustrated, "ugh," as she reached back into the bag for more letters.

"I like that word. I like quixotic the best, though."

"Oh yeah, smarty pants?"

"Yeah, it's a word that fits you."

She looked up at me, her brow furrowed. "Am I idealistic to the point of being ridiculous?"

"No, I think of it as being a dreamer, seeing what's best in a situation maybe even when there's not so much that's good to begin with."

She studied me as she took a sip of her wine. "Maybe that's how I used to be."

"You always saw the best in me, even when I was an angry little punk."

"You were never a punk. Even when we were kids I saw you as this strong, silent type...but I always thought you were sweet."

"That day I pushed you, you thought I was sweet?"

"The next morning you proved to me that you were." After a pause, she said, "You know I still have that peace offering?"

"What?"

Nodding, embarra.s.sed, she chuckled. "I mean, I ate the candy bar that night, but I saved the note. I stared at that note every night crying after you left school."

"No way."

"I did. I mean, I'd conjured up all these terrible scenarios. Where had they taken you? Were you in some sort of juvenile detention h.e.l.l hole? I felt terrible. You'd been falsely accused and I hadn't stood up for you."

"See? Always putting the weight of the world on your shoulders. Anyway, it didn't feel like it then, but that was the best thing that could have happened to me."

"I know."

"I did miss you, though."

"Me, really?"

"I was totally hung up on you when I was twelve."

She lowered her head to hide the blush creeping across her cheeks. She met my eyes again when she said, "I loved that piece you did...My Friend. That was me and you, right?"

"Yeah. Kind of how I imagined it was between us back then. Even though I hardly ever spoke to you, I did always feel like you were my friend. But you were good to everyone. I think every boy in that cla.s.s was crus.h.i.+ng on you."

"Right," she said with a smirk. "Anyway, I couldn't afford My Friend or any of your other pieces at the Gala. You drew the big bucks. There were bidding wars happening."

"So Andie tells me. She's already conned me into committing a few pieces for next year."

"Did she tell you about True Beauty?"

I flinched. "Did you freak when you saw it?"

Carolyn smiled as she reached over and grabbed my hand. "For a minute I freaked. I mean, it took me back, you know? But it was more like I was in awe. I love it, Jeremy."

"It was hard to part with that one." It was hard. I'd wrapped that up and put it in the truck, only to take it out and haul it back upstairs, repeating the process two more times before deciding to take it to Andie.

"Well, that one caused the biggest stir. There were a few patrons who kept trying to outbid one another. It got a little heated. And then Andie took it down, telling everyone that the artist requested its removal from the auction."

"Why'd she do that?" And why hadn't she told me?

We'd pretty much abandoned the Scrabble game by then. Carolyn was raking her hands over the board and scooping the tiles back into the bag. She took a moment before answering, "Because she wanted me to have it."

Relief washed over me. Andie was a genius. "You should have it. It always should have been yours."

"It's still wrapped up. I think I'll wait until I have my own place to hang it." Her shy smile was drawing me in, making me think about kissing her. "It's art, and my parent don't have hang-ups about that sort of thing, but I don't know if my mom or dad could handle seeing me that way. I mean, the look on my face...it's pretty obvious what's on my mind, you know?"

I did know what was on her mind that night and the memory made my d.i.c.k painfully hard. I was wearing sweats. I thought I was smooth when I casually reached up to grab a throw pillow to place over my lap. She looked right at my crotch and then smiled wide as she rose up and stretched. "I'm gonna get started on dinner, ok?"

"Um, ok. I'm gonna grab a quick shower, all right?"

She made her way to the kitchen but then peeked her head back in and teased, "You do that."

I was busted and therefore decided to take full advantage by rubbing one out in the shower.

"Hey, you didn't tell me we were getting all fancy for dinner." Carolyn looked down at her get-up and then gestured to the loose bun atop her cute little head. "I feel like a shlub."

I looked down at my outfit. I had on new jeans and a b.u.t.ton down with the sleeves rolled up. I guess I had put a little extra effort in but, I mean, I was barefoot. "A shlub? You've finally stumped me in the vocab department. Whatever shlub means, I think you look great."

"I might have made that word up. And I'm not changing," she added defiantly. "I packed a lot of c.r.a.p in my bags. With the wine, the bread, the olive oil...I didn't have room for formal dinner wear."

I shook my head in disbelief. "You packed olive oil?"

"When I told Marco, the cook, I was stealing some bread, he insisted I take some of his favorite olive oil for dipping."

"Nice."

I leaned over her shoulder as she stirred the pot of meatb.a.l.l.s and breathed in. "That smells so good." I was referring to Carolyn, really. Her skin smelled clean and sweet. There was nothing to compare it with-she didn't smell like vanilla or roses or honey. She smelled like Carolyn, and if you could bottle that scent you'd be a millionaire ten times over.

She b.u.mped her b.u.t.t backwards. Her hands were full, so that was her way of getting me to back off, but her a.s.s pus.h.i.+ng into me had the opposite effect. I was as hard as steel again, my skin felt heated, and it took everything in me not to lean in again and drag her hips back into mine. Back off, I scolded myself, and then willed myself to turn away.

I busied myself slicing the bread and then setting the table for two. "Carolyn, can I pour you another gla.s.s of wine?"

"Yeah, I just downed a big gla.s.s of water so I'm good to go. I like that Chianti, don't you?"

"I'm usually a beer guy but yeah, that was really good."

I handed her the gla.s.s. "Cheers. I'm glad you're here."

She clinked her gla.s.s with mine. "Me too, Jeremy." Her eyes held mine for a moment before she smiled shyly and then went back to stirring the pot.

I was burning up. Standing over the stove, wearing his flannel s.h.i.+rt, the proximity of his body-it was all working together to make me hot, fl.u.s.tered and itching with a need to strip myself out of these clothes. While he was busy setting the table, I unb.u.t.toned his s.h.i.+rt and tossed it. I was in leggings and just a tank-one that hugged me tight and left a strip of exposed skin at my midriff.

I could feel it when he turned back around. I knew he'd stopped in his tracks and I could feel his eyes trained on me. It's what I was aiming for but his reaction made me nervous. I didn't feel particularly schooled in the art of seduction and with Jeremy I really didn't know where I stood. I mean, the two of us being here alone was a fluke, and while he seemed happy about this unexpected turn of events, I just couldn't be sure. And the thought of being rejected by him...No, I just couldn't let my mind go there.

To busy my shaking hands, I reached up to let my hair down and then fixed it into another topknot to trap the strands that had come loose. Jeremy remained stock-still, standing just a few feet behind me. My throat felt tight. I cleared it before saying, "Do you have a strainer? I think the pasta's done."

"Um, what?"

"The pasta. I think it's done."

"Oh, got it."

We stood side by side at the counter. Jeremy dumped the contents of the pot into the colander and then heaped a giant mound of pasta onto each of our plates. I topped each with meatb.a.l.l.s and sauce. "Jeremy, I'm not a lumberjack."

He b.u.mped my hip. "All you runners carb load, right?"

"That's enough pasta for three of me."

"Nah, you need to fatten up," he teased as he pinched my b.u.t.t.

I think I yelped and jumped about a foot from shock. "Hey, mister grabby hands."

Jeremy just smiled his sly smile, cut me a glance and then turned as he took both plates to the table. I relaxed a bit as I thought, Maybe he is into me.

You couldn't get a more romantic setting: the rustic log cabin, the fireplace, the warm lighting, the wine. I was already feeling the wine. When he went to refill our gla.s.ses, I stopped him. "That's enough for me."

He rose from the table and headed back into the kitchen. "I'll get you some water."

"Thanks," I said as he placed my gla.s.s in front of me. "I'm careful with alcohol. I drink but I try and keep it to two."

His brow furrowed. "Did you have a problem with it?"

"No. It's just...I guess a need to be in control? Those months after...everything, I hated the way the medication made me feel-fuzzy, dull."

"I can understand that." He popped another meatball in his mouth and went on to groan in pleasure.

"Whoa, doggie. It sounds like you're having a religious experience."

"What's the secret?" he asked, mid-chew, the food still in his mouth. G.o.d, he made me happy. I was transfixed for a moment, watching his strong jaw work, staring at the drop of sauce that sat on his full lower lip. He was a work of art. Strong-so much bigger and more defined than he was. He was making my head swim more than the wine.

"Carolyn?"

"Hmm?"

"The secret ingredient. What is it? C'mon, give it up."

"Oh. You were half-right. There are crushed red pepper flakes, but I also dice some prosciutto into the mixture."

He nodded, seemingly impressed, and then speared another with his fork. "I don't want you to go getting a big head or anything, but these are the best I've ever tasted."

"That's high praise coming from a cook of your caliber."

"Next time I'll cook for you. I've got some new tricks up my sleeve."

"I'd like that."