~ Andrea

“Oh, Andrea, how can you be so stupid?”

It’s been hours since that ‘incident’ happened and still, I can’t shake off the embarrassment as I lie in my bed, my face buried in a huge, fluffy pillow and my legs beating down the mattress.

It’s my fault. If I hadn’t been bored and curious – a deadly combination – and out exploring the house, I wouldn’t have ended up locked up in the house. I should have known the house would have a complex security. But no. I decided to be Dora anyway.

Then I did something even more stupid – going out the window and trying to jump off the ledge. I was naïve to think no one would notice my little daredevil act. I’m lucky the alarm system didn’t automatically place a call to 911 and had a whole troop of cops and firefighters come over to rescue me.

Nope. I just got Clay, the last person who I wanted to catch me. In a towel no less with those gorgeous arms and that toned chest all exposed. No wonder my mind got muddled up and I ended up doing the most stupid thing of all – jumping into his arms.

Yes, I was thinking of jumping. But into his arms? Sure, they looked strong. But really, Andrea? Couldn’t you just have landed on a spot of grass? And I didn’t even count all the way to three. Shit. He must think I’m so desperate.

Thankfully, he caught me and that should have been the end of it. All’s well that ends well. But no. Just when I thought everything was fine, everything just unraveled. Well, specifically, the towel unraveled and then…

“Ugh.” I squish my face even deeper into the recesses of the pillow, my legs moving faster just like my heart at the memory of what I’d seen.

Why did I have to see that?

Yes, he used to be my boyfriend but I never saw that. We hadn’t gone past kissing yet. And no, I’ve never seen anything like it. I’m a virgin, remember?

Well, to be honest, it wasn’t so bad. It was quite fascinating, actually. It was long. It was thick. It was elegantly curved, not crooked in anyway. It was a lovely shade of…

“Shit.”

What am I thinking? I’m supposed to be forgetting what I saw, not describing it in detail like it’s some specimen or some work of art. Why can’t I just shove the memory into that compartment of my brain called ‘Open at Your Own Risk’ where I’ve put all the other embarrassing moments of my life, like that time I barfed right on my teacher’s desk in school or got caught trying on my aunt’s lingerie, and leave it there?

I know why. It’s because the memory isn’t entirely unpleasant. Sure, it was embarrassing as hell but it was also…exciting.

I may be a virgin but I know an erection when I see one and I know what it means. It means Clay is still attracted to me. It means that he wants me, something he didn’t show before. I have to admit it’s flattering and just a tad exciting, like there’s a buzz in my veins and a flutter in my stomach just thinking about it.

So, this is what it feels to be wanted.

Damn, it’s sexy. In fact, it makes me want him right back.

It’s all a physical thing, of course. Just hormones. Or the id if you ask Freud – that dark side we all have that is driven by the pure pursuit of pleasure, regardless of whatever form it may take.

Apparently, for me right now, that takes the form of Clay.

Thankfully, I’m not a child so my ego takes the front seat and no, it’s not going to let me drive into an abyss I can’t get out of.

I get off my pillow, lying on my back and taking a deep breath as I stare at the ceiling.

There, I’ve said it. I want Clay. I’m not going to do something about it. Simple.

“So, let’s move on, shall we?”

I get off the bed, sitting in front of my computer where I still have an article on children with agoraphobia open.

Right. Rose is the reason I’m here, not Clay. It’s my job to take care of her, to help her heal and I should focus on that.

Focus, Andrea.

I’ve treated children with specific phobias before but never one with agoraphobia. Most of them had social phobia or nyctophobia – fear of darkness. Thankfully, according to this article, the method of treatment is the same - gradually exposing the person to the source of the fear so that he or she may overcome it. In Rose’s case, she should be exposed to crowds or wide open spaces.

I can do that. Before I do, though, I have to get close to her first and earn her trust, which she isn’t giving to anyone right now, not even Clay.

Clay.

How can he be a father to a child he only met a few days ago? How could John have chosen a man his daughter didn’t know to be her father?

I can’t even imagine Clay as a father.

Are you sure?

No, that’s not true. I have imagined him as a father. Once. Long ago. I imagined him carrying our baby in his arms, teaching our son to catch a ball, drying our daughter’s tears.

I wanted to be the mother of his children. That was how much I loved him.

You can still be, can’t you?

Suddenly, I remember how it felt to be in his arms, the memory making my heart skip a beat and sending heat rushing through my veins.

Shit. What is going on with me?

You’re attracted to him.

“Shut up,” I scold the voice inside my head.

Well, maybe I am but like I said, the attraction is only physical, a natural physical reaction between an adult male and an adult female.

Keep telling yourself that, sweetheart.

It’s nothing. In fact, I’m pretty sure Clay has forgotten all about it by now.

---

Nope. He hasn’t forgotten about it.

All throughout dinner, Clay has been throwing ‘hints’ about the earlier incident, as if trying to tease me and provoke me on purpose. Well, unfortunately, he’s succeeding, which only frustrates me even more.

“Are you sure you don’t want one of those sausages?” Clay asks, pointing to the heaping plate near Rose.

Of all the things to prepare, why did Hariett have to cook sausages for Rose tonight?

“Nope,” I tell him, holding back my temper as I focus on my plate of food, which has some bits of glazed chicken on a bed of vegetable puree.

“They’re Rose’s favorite. Aren’t they, Rose?”

She doesn’t answer, lazily stuffing food into her mouth in silence. In fact, she’s been silent since this morning.

“Why don’t you just try one?” Clay insists. “They look nice. All moist and firm.”

I glare at him, trying not to conjure the image he’s suggesting. “Why don’t you? You seem to like sausages. Besides, you’re the one who just had to bring it up.” I put a morsel of chicken in my mouth. “You just can’t keep it down, can you?”

Clay’s knife slips from his fingers, screeching as its teeth grate against the plate.

I grin, eating another piece of chicken. Two can play the game.

“It’s better to be healthy and full of life than to be scared,” Clay says, recovering.

I frown. “I was not scared.”

“You screamed.” He points his fork at me. “Honestly, I don’t remember ever hearing you scream before.”

I blush at the memory of my reaction but maintain my composure. “ “was not scared. I was merely…startled.” I glance at Rose. “It was a huge snake, after all.”

“Huge?” He lifts an eyebrow as he pops a piece of beef inside his mouth. “Bigger than any you’ve ever seen?”

I put down my utensils as I nearly choke on the chicken I’ve just swallowed, grabbing my glass of water and taking a huge gulp to wash it down.

Shit.

Alright. Enough is enough.

“You know what?” I wipe my mouth after setting down my glass. “I think we should have some new house rules.”

“Let me guess.” He puts down his own utensils to take a sip of wine. “No sausages for any meal.”

“Clothes,” I correct. “No walking around without any clothes and just to be clear, a towel isn’t a piece of clothing.”

Clay frowns. “Sorry. I’m used to living alone.”

“And I think you should make some changes to that security system.”

He takes another sip of wine. “Already done that.”

“Good.” I continue eating.

“Any other rules?”

I shrug as I chew. “Anything you’d like to add?”

He says nothing.

I glance at Rose. “What about you, Rose? Are there any rules you’d like us all to follow?”

She says nothing, either.

“Well, that seems to be it,” I say. “So, we’re agreed?”

He sits back. “Sure.”

“Great. See, it’s not that hard, is it?”

“No, it’s not.”

I pause, realizing he’s talking about something else again. “Oh, and I’d rather things stay soft around here if it’s not too much to ask. You know, keep things down.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good.”

“Any other requests?”

I look at him, realizing that he’s pissed, all his earlier humor and playfulness gone. Well, that’s his problem. I didn’t do anything wrong.

Did I?

Clay stands up. “Well, then, I think I’ll go back to my room ahead.”

“Good night.”

After he leaves, I reach for my own glass of wine, grinning as I take a sip. Clay may have made a fool of me before but never again. So what if he’s older, richer, more confident and alright, hotter? I’m also older, smarter and stronger.

Who knows? Maybe dealing with this Clay isn’t as tough as I thought.