What Lovers Do(26)

“Maybe I should hang out with you and Howie.” A whole different, Jimmy-less life, I think in my delusional head. Sounds magical. “You know … since this is all a friend thing. I could go golfing with you two. A threesome.”

Shep coughs, spewing out some cracker crumbs. “N-no. Don’t say it like that.”

“That’s what it’s called. Do you think Howie would be opposed to a threesome?”

“St-stop.” He fists his hand at his mouth and laughs.

“Well…” I shrug, keeping my smile well hidden behind a handful of grapes “…it’s just an idea. You two can discuss it later. Oh, and tell your mom thanks for me. This is all really good.”

He nods several times while his throat bobs. “I will. Maybe.” He brushes the crumbs off his hands into the sink. Then he leans his hip against the counter and crosses his arms over his chest. They’re tan and defined.

I give my eyes a few extra seconds to admire them before refocusing on the food. “Maybe?” I say, covering my mouth as I chew.

“My parents don’t know you’re here.”

“Me? Your friend? I’m your secret?”

His head bounces a few times. “Perhaps.”

This makes my day. He has at least one secret. Me.

“Are you not allowed to have girls at the house when your parents aren’t here? No parties? No loud music?”

“I’m avoiding a million questions. You’re my first female anything since my divorce.”

I chew slowly for a bit before nodding. “Men and women can be just friends.”

“I’m sure it’s a hard sell for some people. But not us. We know otherwise. Right?” His question is weird, or maybe it’s the way he’s posing it to me like I actually need to answer him, instead of a foregone conclusion or anything rhetorical.

“Yes. We’re just friends.” I pop a piece of pineapple into my mouth. “Despite your juvenile attempts to see my nipples.”

His face comes to life. “It was a successful attempt. Not juvenile. Well planned with a solid payout.”

I roll my eyes. “You didn’t see anything.”

“Oh, I saw everything. I could sketch your nipples if they robbed a bank.”

“Stop.” I laugh, returning the food trays to the fridge. “Stop talking about my nipples.”

“You brought them up. Don’t get me wrong, I was hoping you would. Like … really hoping. I’ve been meaning to compliment you on them. That day at the store, I wanted to give them a slow clap or something special like that. Maybe a ribbon like at the state fair.”

I can’t stop giggling as I fist my hand over my mouth to keep from spitting residual bits of food from my mouth. “Let’s go. This conversation is over.” I fill a bowl with water for Cersei and set it on the tile floor.

“It’s not over. It’s just shelved until later.” Shep follows me to the door. “I still have some things to say about your nipples.”

“Stop!” I cover my face for a brief second as we make our way to the Mustang in the circle driveway. “Friends don’t talk about each other’s body parts like this.”

He opens the car door for me. “Really? Huh. That’s too bad. Good thing we don’t have to be like other friends. And I’ve critiqued a few things about Howie. Poor guy is seriously pecker challenged.” He shuts my door after I secure my seat belt.





“I’m paying,” I say when we arrive at the golf course. The woman at the counter smiles at Shep and then at me.

“Sophie …” Shep starts his protest.

“No. You drove. I’m staying at your parents’ house. And I’ve eaten their food. I wouldn’t feel right if I didn’t at least pay for our golf.” I sign for the eighteen holes of golf and turn toward Shep. “Ready?”

“Ready. Thanks for paying. It’s quite kind of you.”

Yes. They all say this. The men I manage to attract into my life find me quite generous. I’m not sure taking advantage of me is their initial intention or a byproduct of a hidden flaw they possess. Or maybe it’s my flaw. Maybe I’m an easy target. Who am I kidding? I’m the Mother Teresa of garter snakes.

Shep is different, not that I know this for certain. I just know that he will never move into my house. It’s Shep World. Separation of church and state.

As the afternoon progresses, Shep whistles every time I make a perfect putt or land a chip shot just inches from the hole. It doesn’t get old. I’m tempted to suggest we play another eighteen holes. As far as friends go, Shep’s a pretty good one. Jules might have to up her game.

“Welp.” As we walk toward the cart after the last hole, Shep stops and waits for me to turn. “I’m not worthy.” He drops to his knees and holds his putter in front of him as he bows.

“Stop.” I giggle before continuing to the cart, so he’ll stand up and not embarrass me.

“Let’s grab a cold drink.” He lumbers to his feet and joins me in the golf cart, gunning it toward the club house.

“You’re a good golfer, Shep. Kept me on my toes the whole time.”

“You on your toes. Me on my knees. Sounds fair.” He tries to sound defeated, but I don’t miss the enjoyment pulling at his lips.