At Peace (The 'Burg #2)(93)

“Vi,” he called.

“What?” I asked.

Slowly, he smiled.

Then he rolled me to my back.

After awhile, I didn’t know why I was always whining to be on top.

Being on my back was just fine.

* * * * *

I slid out of Joe’s bed and pulled on his tee.

“Buddy, you keep stealin’ my tees, I won’t have any left.”

I nabbed my undies and stepped into them, my head up looking at him as I did.

“You gave me the first,” I reminded him.

“You stole the next two,” he returned.

“I only stole one.”

“You’re wearin’ number two.”

I couldn’t believe he was keeping track.

“I’ll send Keira and Kate to the mall to buy you new ones.”

“Christ, don’t do that. Fuck knows what they’ll come back with.”

I gathered my clothes, tucked them in my arm and looked at him in bed, scarred belly and pectoral on display, but then so was his chest. It was nice, all of it, very nice, even though the sheet was pulled up to his waist. If it wasn’t then the view would have been nicer.

“They take direction,” I told him.

“When I was at the mall with you, Keira picked a bunch of shit for me. One of the shirts had f**kin’ flowers on it.”

A little giggle escaped me at the idea of Joe wearing a shirt with flowers on it.

“And it was pink,” Joe finished and a much bigger, louder giggle burst out of me.

“You’d look good in pink,” I told him when I stopped giggling.

“Lucky you’re outta arm’s reach, buddy, or I’d smack your ass.”

I grinned at him then I blurted, “It’s Sunday.”

“So?”

“Sunday’s pancake day.”

His face closed down and he muttered, “Buddy.”

“Offer’s on the table, Joe. That’s all I’m sayin’,” I told him quickly, got close, put a hand in the bed and touched my mouth to his but when I pulled slightly away, I finished, “and I make f**king good pancakes.”

Then, fast as I could, I straightened and moved out of the room.

There it was again, me acting stupid, trying to fix Joe.

I tried not to look at his house as I moved through it but even though I tried, I saw that it was likely he hadn’t changed a thing. It was tidy, even clean, though the thought of Joe cleaning was worthy of another giggle, it was true. But it was dated and drab, much more dated than seventeen years ago. I figured the house hadn’t changed since Joe’s Mom died, whenever that was but by the looks of things it was a long time ago.

I went to his sliding glass door and out, hustling across the deck, down the steps but I caught movement. I looked across Joe’s yard, my yard and I saw Tina Blackstone in her yard, wearing a nightie and a robe, watering the flowers in her big, half-barrel, wooden tubs on her deck.

She was watering her flowers but her eyes weren’t on her flowers, they were on me and even a yard away, I saw her mouth hanging open.

Shit!

I waved casually to her, rethinking way too late wearing Joe’s tee seeing as, if I was in my clothes, she wouldn’t know that I was over at Joe’s house, ha**ng s*x with Joe, but now she couldn’t help but know. She couldn’t miss it.

But who would have thought Tina would be out in her yard on a Sunday morning before eight o’clock watering her flowers?

Her flowers were nice which was surprising, she didn’t seem the type to have a green thumb or even give a shit. They weren’t as nice as mine but they were nice. Still, it was Sunday. Even I, before Joe, wasn’t out on a Sunday before eight o’clock watering my flowers.

I headed to my side door, fumbling with my jeans skirt to pull out the key and remote, hitting the remote so my sensors would go off and then struggling with my key. Seeing Tina had weirded me out and right then I was certain everyone would see me.

I got into the house, rearmed the alarm and shot to my room.

Then I took a shower and got ready for my day. I had the afternoon shift at the garden center and I needed to talk to Bobbie about changing the schedule so I could have next weekend off for Sam and Melissa.

After a load of laundry went in and I’d checked my e-mail, Kate and Keira got up. They were still in their pjs on the stools at the bar. Kate was wearing a big t-shirt and a pair of slouchy pajama bottoms. Keira was wearing a camisole and a pair of slouchy pajama bottoms. Kate’s hair was down and partly tangled from sleep. Keira’s hair was in a messy ponytail at the very top of her head. I was at the stove, flipping the first batch of pancakes when Keira made a strange gurgling noise.

Thinking she was choking on orange juice, I turned to her but she had an alarm remote in her hand and her eyes on the side kitchen door.

She jumped off her stool, hit some buttons on the remote and screeched, “Joe!”

I whirled to the door and stood staring at it, spatula in hand as Keira unlocked it, yanked the door open and Joe was standing there. I’d seen him through the window of the door but seeing him standing there, full-body, my breath, already stopped, escaped me.

“I don’t know why you’re here but you have to have some of Mom’s pancakes. They’re better than her cupcakes,” Keira announced.