Fools Rush in(55)

At least my house was clean. And there were still flowers on the table, making it seem like I always had flowers on the table. Joe smiled as I came into the kitchen. He was standing at the stove, stirring. His jeans looked soft with age, slightly torn at each knee, and he wore a blue T-shirt. I had never seen a more beautiful male in my entire life.

“Better?” he asked.

“Yup,” I said, getting a beer out of the fridge.

“I found this in the cupboard. I love this stuff,” Joe said. He was stirring a pot of macaroni and cheese, the really orange kind that comes in a box, which I kept on hand for Katie’s boys.

“Oh,” I said, the grocery bill from last night flashing through my mind. “That’s great.” Fattening, salty, pasty…pretty much Cheetos in a less crunchy form. Joe stopped stirring. Taking me by the shoulders, he gave me a quick, soft kiss. My stomach flip-flopped most pleasantly.

“I missed you,” he said with a little smile.

Oooh. “I—I’m just so sorry I forgot about this,” I stammered.

He looked at me sideways. “It is kind of a first,” he acknowledged, just sheepishly enough to be adorable. “I’m usually the forgetful one.”

Score another point for Dr. Barnes, ladies and gentlemen!

Dinner with a shelf life of three years wasn’t exactly the romantic meal I’d planned, but nevertheless, Joe Carpenter and I were together.

“How’s work going?” I asked as Joe shoveled in heaping spoonfuls of the glow-in-the-dark food.

“Great,” he answered. “Almost done on the new wing at the senior center.”

“That’s wonderful,” I answered, taking a swig of beer.

“How’s your work?” he asked.

“It’s good, too. Pretty busy these days.”

“What is it again that you do?”

I blinked. How could he not know that? Not to toot my own horn or anything, but a small-town girl who becomes a doctor and returns to her place of birth…Everyone knew me. “I’m a doctor, Joe.”

“Oh, that’s right. Hey, you want some more mac ’n’ cheese?” He smiled so winningly at me that I forgave him his lapse, though my befuddlement remained.

We took our beers out onto the deck. It was getting dark. God had obligingly sent us a beautiful sunset; fuchsia and lavender suffused the entire western half of the sky, and the stars were beginning to wink in the deepening blue of the east. I lit the citronella candles that dotted the railing and put one on the table between us.

“This is a really nice house,” Joe said, gazing skyward.

“Watch this.” In another minute, Nauset Light’s beam flashed across the tops of the trees.

“Wicked cool,” Joe said. He reached over and took my hand, moving a candle so our flesh wouldn’t singe.

Was there ever a more perfect moment? Joe and Millie. Millie and Joe. Mr. and Mrs. Howard Barnes request the pleasure of your company at the wedding of their daughter, Millicent Evelyn Barnes, M.D., to Joseph Stephen Carpenter the Carpenter…I squelched a giggle.

“What’s your house like, Joe?” I asked to distract myself from my silliness.

“Oh, it’s kind of a work in progress,” he answered, turning to look at me. “I’ll show you sometime.”

“That would be nice.”

“Have you watched that movie yet? The one you rented?” Joe asked. “That looked good.”

“No, I haven’t watched it yet,” I lied. “Want to put it on?”

“Sure. And can I have some pie? I saw it in the cupboard.”

Ten minutes later I was watching The Bourne Identity for the second time in twenty-four hours. But this time, Joe Carpenter was sitting next to me, his big work boots on my glass coffee table, his strong, tanned arm around me. My heart pumped furiously, sending the blood flow straight to my nether regions. His hand brushed the back of my neck, his fingers played in my hair. I turned my head away from the TV and looked at Joe. He looked back. We looked and looked, and this time I couldn’t squelch the giggle that rose up.

“Millie Barnes,” Joe murmured, a slow smile lighting his perfect face. “Why didn’t I ever notice you before?”

And then he was kissing me, warm and soft and just right, nice and slow. My hand went to his neck, and I could feel his pulse thumping against my palm. Slowly, smoothly, he eased me back so I was half lying on the couch, Joe on top of me. Matt Damon screeched out of Paris. Joe slid his hand under my shirt, along my ribs and I sighed against his mouth. His hair was so soft, like a baby’s, and I ran my fingers through it. Then his hand cupped my breast, his thumb scraping over the lace of my bra, and my hands clenched into fists.

“Is this okay?” Joe whispered.

It was hard to think with him lying on top of me, his hand where it was, the clean, sunshiny smell of him.

“Millie, I really, really want to go to bed with you,” he whispered, kissing my neck.

“Okay,” I croaked.

SEVENTY-FOUR MINUTES LATER, Joe Carpenter was sleeping next to me in my bed. And guess what? We were naked, that’s what! We lay spooned against each other, Joe’s breath tickling my neck, his arm around my ribs. He was sound asleep.

I, on the other hand…I wanted to jump up and create a Web site that told the world I had just shagged Joe Carpenter. Joe Carpenter and I had had sexual relations. We had known each other biblically. We had done it. I had done it, too—I got my man, just as I had dreamed.