Bait: The Wake Series, Book One(117)

I got as close to the cabinet as I could and firmly grounded my left hand on the counter top, stretching my right arm as high as it would go while pushing myself up as high as I could with the other. Two hands startled me when I felt them wrap around my hips and lift me into the air like I was but a feather.

Casey steadily held me up high so that I could clutch the dish with both of my hands and held me there until I said, “Got it.”

His body was close to mine and I felt his hot skin through my T-shirt on my way back down to the floor. My body reacted like it always had with him. I grew warm and tingly, and my panties were beginning to dampen. That was familiar.

I felt my lungs beg for more air and I had to cough to clear passage for the influx of oxygen they demanded.

Casey must have taken that as a sign that I was good to go, but he didn't move away completely. Left were his hands, still firmly holding me by the waist.

The air in the room was humid, from both the boiling stock and from us. Of course, he was sunburned and I was merely hot by association.

Finally I made a move to the side and around him, smiling as I turned, “Thanks.”

I collected my cut-up veggies and ran them under the water in the garden sink on the island. “I love this kitchen,” I said, trying to break the silence and distract myself from his nearness.

Getting frisky in a kitchen was one thing, but getting frisky while cooking was dangerous, and we were already dangerous enough together.

I turned the soup down and let it simmer as the chicken baked in the oven. We drank beers and walked around the family room that was open to the kitchen.

We'd stopped in front of pictures and I'd try to guess who was who, only getting it right about half the time. Casey and Cory were easy to tell apart for me, with their different styles and looks, but when there were children, it was almost impossible to know the difference. They were both very cute boys. It's funny how life makes you look different.

Then we stopped at one on the mantle that wasn't that old. It was Casey, his mom, and Cory at Foster’s birth. I wasn't able to make it in time for his arrival, but both Casey and his mom were there.

The look on her face was perfect. The boys were both looking into the camera for the photo, but Deb didn't take her eyes off her grandson. Her mouth was open, smiling wide and you could almost hear her cooing at the infant. The picture was priceless.

“She liked having lots of pictures of you guys around,” I said facing him.

“She liked the real thing more.” He shrugged and started back toward the kitchen saying, “So did I.”



The soup was good and the conversation came back. He had his moments. I'm sure that was normal.

It killed me he was in pain. That he was suffering. I needed to show him I was here for him. Yeah, showing up was nice. And making dinner was a thoughtful and necessary gesture, but I'm sure many people had done those things for him over the past few days. I needed to give him what no one else could.

Selfishly, I hoped no one else was.

“Thanks for helping me clean up,” I said as I handed him the last dish. We'd hand-washed the few we’d used, deciding it was easier to clean them in the sink.

“Thanks for dinner.”

Things between us had been very cool in comparison to what we were used to in our past. Before, when we'd see each other, he’d be inside me within hours. At the very least, we'd touch each other reconnecting for our time apart, almost instantly. That day was different.

It didn't feel forced, it simply felt slower. And that was okay considering our circumstances.

His mother had just died.

I was about to cheat on my husband, instead of my boyfriend or fiancé. Like it was any worse, but my actions were about to lead me into commandment breaking territory. Thank God himself that I wasn't religious enough to feel His guilt, too.

But enough time had passed and I longed to touch and rediscover him.

“You need a bath, you're getting smelly, Lou.” The use of my old pet name for him brought some of the old twinkle into his iridescent eyes.

“You know what, Betty? I, too, could have sworn I smelled something. It smelled like recirculated air. Maybe you're the one who's smelling up the place.”

It was wonderful to have him playing with me. For us, sarcastic banter was as common as arguing. But that night, I was determined the keep the conversation like that. Easy, friendly, and sweet.

Perhaps, I needed it, too. Maybe even more.