Steady (36 page)

“Did you know that statistics on bike injuries are under-reported? The police don’t even bother writing up a report if the cyclist or bicycle isn’t seriously injured.”

“Is that so?” he asked, smiling. As if on cue, he asked again, “Ready?”

“Ready as I’m going to be, but if I run out of steam, I don’t want to hear any comments from you,” she said, going for firm and serious. He just smiled, swinging his leg to straddle his bike, looking over at her as she stood there straddling his other one.

“Don’t worry, Steady, let’s go. I’ve got you,” he said, smiling, and rolled outward, she trying to catch him.

***

Will parked in his garage and let the door down. It was dark; the return flight always put him back into town late. He was a little tired from this trip, a short one out to California to check in with the head cheese, but he still wanted to see Katrina. He missed her; he also loved her, and had been saying that in his mind, adjusting to it, trying to figure out where to go from here.

He dropped his bag near the door leading from the garage into the kitchen. He needed to get his mail; had promised himself he wouldn’t let it pile up again. He hadn’t called Katrina from the airport for fear of waking her. He looked around his home and decided to walk out back and over to her house. If she was up, he’d go in; if not, he would return to his home and call her in the morning.

He walked out the back gate and down the greenbelt and breathed a sigh of relief when he saw lights on at her house. They’d exchanged keys, so he could let himself in. He entered her backyard and saw her sitting in what seemed like her favorite place in the yard, her deck’s top step.

“I hoped you be up,” he said, walking up and sitting on the step just below her. She opened her legs and pulled him back to rest between them, his head near her waist.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she said. “Scary, but I’ve gotten used to having you near.”

“Why is that scary?’ he asked.

“You may not always be here,” she said.

“What if I were?”

“What if you were what?”

He looked at her. “You know what I mean.”

“I don’t know,” she said. “Let’s talk about something else.”

Not wanting to push, he changed the subject. “You’ve never told me about your backyard. Why the design?”

“I like large and bountiful, large groups of color, the more variety the better,” she said. “I love the English gardens, as you know, even though I know they aren’t at all suited to our climate. It’s a lot like how I felt pre-adoption, not suited, so I found a way to make it work, adding natives when I can. I also have a fondness for native roses; they are some tough customers, don’t need much to survive, just sun, rain, and air.”

“Well, you created a beautiful place here,” he said, taking her hands and holding them in front of him.

“Thanks. It does for me here,” she said, pointing at her heart, “what yours does for you. It’s a simple pleasure, and it’s beautiful. In the spring when it’s still cool and the jasmine and honeysuckle are blooming, it smells like heaven and looks like it, too. It’s God’s gift to me.”

“To you personally, huh?” he said, smiling, his head bent back, looking up into her face.

“Yep. How was your trip?” she asked, bending over to kiss him on his mouth and then running her fingers through his hair.

“It’s work,” he said.

“Are you tired?” she asked.

“Not too tired. Why?” he asked, pushing himself up to his feet and then turning and pulling her up, too.

“Just wondering,” she said, leaning in to touch his lips with hers.

He smiled and lifted her up. She swung her legs around his waist and he walked them up the steps and into her home. Will walked straight to her bedroom, depositing her on her bed. She wiggled out of her sweats and underwear, tugged her T-shirt over her head, and released her hair from its ponytail. Sitting on her bed Indian style, she watched Will undress.

“I’m glad you made it back safely, although I know that flying is one of the safest forms of travel.”

“Is that so?” he asked, unzipping his jeans and pulling his T-shirt over his head.

“Yes, that is so.”

“You and your facts are really growing on me,” he said.

“Is that so?” she said, mimicking him, watching as he lowered his jeans; God, she loved his body. He shed his shorts and walked toward her.

“Yes. Who knew that stats could be sexy,” he said, pushing her backward on the bed, untangling her legs, and moving his body to cover hers and then flipping over so she was on top.

“Miss me?” he asked, pulling her head down for a kiss.

“Missed parts of you,” she said.

“Parts, huh? Which ones and how much?” he asked, moving his hands to her breasts, tugging at their tips, smiling at her intake of air. He pulled her down for another kiss, continuing to rub and play with her breasts. Katrina moaned loudly into his mouth, feeling his smile against her lips.

When she could catch her breath, she said, “Did you know that, at age seventy, 73 percent of men are still potent?”

“Really? Interesting,” he said, lifting her up and impaling her on him in one smooth movement. He didn’t move then, just lay there with her surrounding him, loving the feel of her body wrapped around his. He’d really missed her.

“And did you know that the man is the most likely partner to be tied up during sex?”

He lifted her and slowly lowered her to him, pulling another moan from her.

“Do you want to be tied up, Katrina?”

“No more talking,” she said, moaning at the pleasure she felt. He laughed. “You’re so weird,” she panted.

He lifted her and pulled her down again, harder this time; then reversed their positions and commenced a demonstration of just how weird he could be. She loved it, if the volume of her moans was any indication.

***

The next morning Will was at her back door, about to make the trek back to his home.

“Before I forget, Katrina, my company is having a mandatory shutdown during the week of spring break. I know it may be late notice, but would you like to spend the week with me?”

“What’s a mandatory shutdown, and what does ‘spend the week with me’ mean?”

“We are shutting down the whole company for a forced vacation; it’s a cost-saving measure. I’ve got a small, and I do mean small, condo down south, near the Gulf. I go sometimes to fish, kayak, or whatever.”

“A girl pad, huh?”

“Nope. You would be the only girl I’ve ever taken. Do you want to come or not?”

“Can I check at work? See if I can take the time?

“Is that a yes? You’d like to go?”

“Yes, I’d like to go.”

“I’ll stop by later; will you be here?”

“Yes.”

She’d been surprised and happy to see him walk into her backyard last night. The last few months spent with him had been great—work seemed less stressful, the flowers bloomed more brightly, and she had even pushed her plans to start her business to the back burner. She was both happier and more afraid than she had been in a long time.

She liked him a lot; hell, she loved him, if she were honest with herself. Where to go with that, she wasn’t sure. Did she want more? And what did he want? Her old doom and gloom, her fears of this not working out, were quietly making a comeback.

February

“Okay, girl, we need to start from scratch,” Lola said, rummaging through Katrina’s drawers and closet. Katrina had told Lola about her upcoming trip with Will—that was about thirty minutes ago, and, of course, Lola had taken over, dragging Katrina’s home to plow through her clothes.

“Girl, you’ve got enough pants to dress an entire army. Where do you buy these clothes, anyway?” Lola asked, looking through Katrina’s pants and shirts, all of which were either black or brown or some other dark color.

“They aren’t that bad for work. I’ve got other stuff I just bought last fall,” she said, showing off the shorts and shirts that actually fit.

“Right, you’re going to wear the same outfit every day? Didn’t think so,” she said, answering her own question. “Does your work have something against you wearing color?” she asked, moving from Katrina’s closet to her drawers. “Girl, even your underwear is basic, like you grew up as an orphan and your clothes were rationed to you.”

“You forget, I did,” Katrina said.

“Girl, you know what I mean,” Lola responded, not missing a beat. She held up a pair of Katrina’s white brief-style panties in her hand, shaking her head. “I didn’t know they were still making these,” she said, throwing them over her shoulder. “Okay, we need to go shopping, and I don’t want to hear the word no. I know you have money, so save the lip. Give me a pen and some paper. I’m going to make a list.”

Knowing it was useless to argue with Lola when she was in her I’m-now-in-charge mood, Katrina left the bedroom, returning a few seconds later with notepad and pen in hand.

“We need everything. Cute underwear, small, boy-cut only, they’ll work on your figure, and cute bras, not the ones we’ve worn since World War II. One skimpy bathing suit, but no cover ups. You can borrow your boyfriend’s T-shirt.” She said this with a goofy grin. “You know, like in high school. You’ll need a pair of flip-flops and shorts and tops that fit, plus one pair of jeans. That should do it.”

“That’s not very much,” Katrina said, looking over Lola’s list.

“If things work out as they are supposed to, girl, you won’t need much. Now what are we doing with that hair of yours?” Lola asked.

“What about it?” Katrina said, reaching up to touch it.

“You sticking with the ponytail look, huh? You should take it down, though, when you swim or get naked with him. Men like to grab on to something when they’re working it.”

“Lola, please,” she said, choking, her laughter muffled.

“Just trying to school you a little, is all,” she said, laughing too, her blonde curls bouncing around her head. “Speaking of which, what does our boy Will like to do? He seems intense. You know, still waters and all?”

“Cut it out. I’m not telling.”

“Come on, girl, does it work for you? Hell, it must for you to be considering getting out of your camouflage clothing.”

“It’s good. I like him. That’s why I am going.”

“Like, huh? That’s good. It’s nice to see you smile. You worry me sometimes. All work and no play makes a ticking time bomb.”

“I don’t think that’s quite the way that expression goes, but, yeah, I like him,” she said, smiling. She had to admit to herself that she was amazingly happy and looking forward to this trip.

***

They left early Sunday morning. She and Lola had gone shopping, and she was still in shock at some of the things Lola had picked out. But what the hell, she could let go for a week, couldn’t she? So about eight this morning Katrina and her backpack walked the back way to Will’s back door. She was thankful for this greenbelt so the whole neighborhood didn’t have to watch the daily treks she made to Will’s home or he to hers.

She entered the back gate and, en route to his back door, she could see him through his bedroom window, pushing clothes into a bag. Just like a guy, he wasn’t putting much thought into what he was going to wear. She stopped and watched him, admiring the muscles moving beneath his shirt. He turned and saw her and flashed her favorite smile, his eyes shining. She smiled back and resumed walking to his back door.

“Hey, I’m almost done,” he shouted to her.

“It’s okay. Can I do anything to help?” she asked.

“No,” he said, walking into the room and touching his lips to hers.

“Most of the things I keep at the condo. I just need clothes. That’s all you’re taking?” he asked, looking at her backpack.

“Yep. Lola tells me I won’t need much, and, as you know already, I’m not much into fashion.”

“The ‘not needing much’ has an appeal,” he said, kissing her lips again, lingering a little longer this time. He pulled back and smiled. “Did I tell you I’m really looking forward to this trip?”

“No, you didn’t, and so am I.”

“Let’s go,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her along to the garage. The jeep sat there ready and waiting for them.

***

The drive down took about four hours. They stopped to get fishing licenses and to pick up bait, which she wanted no part of. Finally, they stopped at the grocery store, picking up fruit, coffee, and things to eat.

“What, no meat?” she asked at the grocery store.

“That’s not much of a confidence builder, Katrina. We’ll eat what we catch,” he said.

“Okay,” she said, “but I’m warning you, I’ll shoot you before I eat bugs or snails or anything like that. I’m not a survivor kind of girl. Bugs belong in the garden, not in one’s mouth.” He laughed. They continued on their drive, eventually pulling into a parking lot near a dock.

“We’re here,” Will said, getting out of the jeep and beginning to unload their bags.