The shape of your mouth
A lush, pillowed haven
Giver of pleasure
Curved with secrets
A FEW WEEKS LATER, Beau knocked on her door, knowing he could have easily texted her.
She opened up, looking sleep rumpled, and he should have felt guilty but all he felt was pleasure at the sight of her. The intensity hadn’t worn off as they slow danced through the first weeks of their relationship.
“I just...” He paused and then ran a hand through his hair. “I have to fly to LA. My house sold and I need to sign stuff and handle some last details.”
She held a hand his way. “Do you have time to share a cup of coffee or are you on the way out now?”
He took it, going into her little town house at her side. “I have time. I’m not flying out until tonight. I woke you up. I’m sorry.”
“I was still in bed, but awake. Just writing a little, listening to public radio. Sit. I was about to make coffee. Honestly. And even if I wasn’t, it’s not a big deal to make it.”
Beau watched her, her hips swaying slightly as she measured out coffee and got everything started.
It had been two days since he’d seen her last. She’d been busy, as had he. And yet, she’d never been far from his thoughts and he found himself making the time, pushing her to the top of his priority list, even if it was to just have a quick lunch or share a cup of coffee. He wanted to spend some time while he was gone to think on that. About how he wanted to be around her on a regular basis.
But the impact of just how different this attraction to Cora was than anything he’d experienced before still had him a little unsteady.
“I’ll be back Friday night,” he said. But instead of sitting, he moved to her fridge. “What’s in here?”
“Look for yourself. I went to the produce market yesterday with Rachel and Vic so there’s all sorts of goodness.”
Her face was bare of any makeup, she wore flannel pajama bottoms and a long-sleeved shirt, and yet he couldn’t take his attention away from her.
“What? I brushed my teeth already, I promise.”
He didn’t resist the urge to cross her kitchen and kiss her silly. Her taste seeped down into him, spreading through his system in a slow, warm tide.
Recognition. She tasted like she knew him and wanted him anyway.
“Just wanted to kiss you, that’s all,” he murmured before breaking away to continue poking around to see what he could make them for breakfast.
“If you like smoked salmon there’s some in the cheese drawer thingy,” she told him. “Vic’s mom makes it fresh, and then sets some aside for me. And there’s some black bread over near the toaster. There were these Danish things called vatrushka, but I ate those.”
He laughed. “Why’d you tell me then?”
She shrugged. “Gloating, I suppose.”
Holy shit did he adore her. “Can we get together when I return?” he asked her as he began to assemble a quick scramble. Step one in his being-with-Cora-more plan was to simply speak his intentions.
“Yes, of course. I guess...well, I figure we’re in a thing of some sort, right? So yeah, I’d like that. Was the house on the market long?” The coffee maker began to gurgle merrily as she pulled out plates and silverware.
Relief hit that she seemed as off balance as he when it came to how well they connected. “Luckily for me, the house was in a neighborhood in high demand with really low availability. My broker hadn’t even officially listed it when we got the first offer.”
“Are you a real estate genius or was that a stroke of luck or what?”
“Can you toast the bread? The eggs are nearly finished,” he said, and once she agreed, he answered her question. “I bought the house years ago when the market was crap and my accountant suggested it as a good way to diversify my portfolio. The cool factor of the area is the final reason I decided to get out. Constantly surrounded by young, rich fucks who have no jobs, party constantly and race through the streets in Lambos they don’t deserve. I liked it when it was mainly old people. They make less noise.”
The toast popped up to put a period at the end of that statement.
“Is the next sentence, get off my lawn?” The giggle at the end let him know she was teasing and it was good-natured. “Want butter?”
He snorted. “I’ve never had a lawn really. Even at my house, it was more drought conscious so it was rocks and succulents and fire-resistant stuff. I think I might yell at people who walked on my emerald green lawn if I had one.”
Her delighted chuckle pleased him nearly as much as the way she went to her toes as she yanked him her way by his shirt. The kiss she followed up with was rousing and comforting at the same time.
“You’re pretty charming. You know that, right?”
Beau banded her waist with his forearm, holding her to him. He knew. He’d be a liar to deny it. Usually it was sort of automatic. He’d been trained early on to charm people. Make them like him as a way to get people to come to church.
With Cora, it was more a desire to please and delight. He wanted to be the one to make her laugh, to bring kisses and her attention. It was one of the reasons he was there instead of texting that he was going out of town.
“I would very much appreciate butter on my toast, thank you,” he said after kissing her one last time.
Once they settled at the table, she poured them both a cup of coffee and they dug in, eating in companionable silence.
“Your life is so quiet here. Even with the super spider lair on your porch and a dozen pumpkins it’s quiet. Peaceful.” It called to him nearly as powerfully as she herself did.
“The rest of my life isn’t always so quiet. I wanted a place that I could retreat to. There are only six units here. And all of us facing an internal courtyard seems to really cut noise from the street. It’s nice and shady in the heat of the summer and cozy warm in the winter. It’s a good place to be. There’s just one drawback. Or two. Dave and Lani. I call him The Hugger and she’s Nip Slip. They have a hot tub they’re always inviting people to. He’s a close talker, all up in your space. Loves to grab you into hugs while telling you he’s a hugger. Like it’s not obvious. Anyway, their place is two down. Be warned.”
“Making a note not to walk down that way.” He paused. “I had a good time at the gallery event. I think I forgot to say so that night or the days after.”
“Yeah? Good. I did too.”
He hadn’t stayed over after the gallery event, though he’d come home with her and they’d ended up having sex twice more before he shuffled out after two.
As he’d lain in the borrowed bed, in a borrowed luxury condo, he’d realized he wasn’t as adrift as he’d been before she’d come back into his life. Cora, always at the center of his thoughts it seemed.
It had been so rare in his life to feel this connected to another person. Nearly every other time though it had been lightning fast, as well. So he paid attention because it felt like he was supposed to be there with her eating breakfast at her little table.
Not that he was entirely comfortable with the intensity between them. He was drawn to her and lacked the will to do anything but obey that call.
It should have felt lowering. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been this way with a romantic interest. He was used to being pursued so the flip of perspectives, being the pursuer, wasn’t entirely steady. But while he was uncertain, he had no plans to do anything but keep on with her to see where he ended up.
“Once I buy my own place, I’ll be coming to you for all my art and art-related needs. It’s nice to have connections who show me their boobs.”
She laughed, nearly choking on her coffee.
“I should amend that to singular.” He was suddenly embarrassed he’d said it out loud but he wanted to make it clear. Wanted her to make the same declaration. “I just thought you should know. That it was just the one. You I mean.”
“Okay. Even if I had the time, which I don’t, I wouldn’t be looking for anyone else just now,” she teased, and it made the knot of anxiety in his chest loosen.
“Good. Yeah.” That was smooth. “What are you up to this week then?”
“I’ll be at the gallery. I’m seeing my brother and sister for brunch on Wednesday. I always have lunch with Maybe and Rachel on Friday afternoon. It’s our ritual. Probably dinner out a few times. Especially as this hot guy I know who cooks like a dream will be out of town.”
That pleased him a lot.
“I’ll make you lots of food when I get back,” he promised. “So, to be nosy, what’s up with the gallery? It’s clear you run it now, but your mom seemed...”
* * *
PLEASED WITH HIS PRESENCE, with the way he looked at her, like he couldn’t get enough, she leaned back in her chair to look at him.
He came to her before he left town. He even told her he wanted to be exclusive. He made her breakfast and now was wanting to know about her life. Right then and there with this man, Cora knew, just knew, she was meant to open herself up to the magic of what might be.
“My father bought the gallery for my mom thirty years ago. But two years later she won the Oscar for Best Original Score and her career exploded. He stayed here in Seattle, running not only the gallery but his business. He’s a landscape architect—I think I told you that? Javier, that’s our oldest brother, he and Beatriz pretty much helped him raise me, Beto and Finley. I grew up at the gallery. It’s my second home in a lot of ways.”
“Javier and Beatriz aren’t local, right?”
“Javi is a choreographer. He lives in Toronto. Bee lives in Virginia. She’s a psychiatrist.” That they’d moved to the other side of the continent hadn’t been lost on Cora. “Bee took me to school more than both my parents combined. Even when she was an undergrad at the UW, she lived at home to help.”
“Are you close with them still?”
It was more complicated than that. “There are a lot of ups and downs in life, you know? Lots of low times when you’re not sure how you’ll get through. But no matter what, no matter how chaotic things are, my family is always a united front. I’d give my kidney to my siblings.” Cora paused.
“But?” He got up to grab the apples he’d sliced and peeled to bring them to her table for them to share.
“They escaped. Both of them would deny that. But of course they did and it was absolutely what they should have done. They had the weirdest childhood of all the kids.” Cora winced and looked up at him. Speaking of weird childhoods...
He burst into laughter as he reached across to squeeze her hand briefly, and then left their fingers tangled together. “Well, look, your childhood is another universe of weird. Which sounds insulting—I’m sorry.”
“That’s not insulting. It was weird. No doubt about it. Back to Javier and Beatriz though. We can talk about my stuff later on.
“I’m closest to Beto. We’re only a year apart so we had each other as playmates and confidants when everyone else was doing their busy thing. I’d say Javi is more an uncle to me than a brother. He’s fifteen years older than I am. But we’re connected. He’s a lot like Walda in that he’s all about his art. He was a dancer until he aged out, sped a little by a series of injuries and surgeries. Dancers are hard on their bodies.” She shook her head. “Anyway, that’s his focus. He works and when he’s not working he’s watching other people work. He comes back home at Christmas but stays with Finley or here with me. He and Walda are very complicated.”
“Part of the reason he’s in Toronto?”
She laughed. “It’s not really a coincidence that he and Bee got as far away from Seattle as they could.”
“And Beatriz?”
“Bee is Bee.” Cora shrugged. “Rachel knows more about her personal life than I do. She’s easier with friends than she is with family.” Which was most likely connected to their mother too. “She loves us and we love her. It works for everyone that she’s where she wants to be.”
“Makes sense. And you’re the fixer. I can see that already.”
“It’s a family joke that I’m the only adult of the whole lot.” Not so much a joke at that point, it was the truth. “Anyway, I’m in a transitional phase. I want to run the gallery. Beto has been taking most of the load while I travel with Walda, but his artistic love is development. He’s actually quite good at it. Probably helps that he’s handsome and good with people.”
“And what does your mother think about that? You replacing her?”
Cora snorted. “She’s never really run the gallery anyway. She’s the face because she’s already well-known in the art world. She likes a place to show her own work when she decides to, but mainly, she’s disinterested in the work of running a gallery and really just wants to make art.” And take credit for other people’s work. “It’s going to be a matter of presenting it to her in the right way because it’s really not a case of me taking her job.”
She was about to jiggle her boobs at him to get his attention pointed in the direction of her bedroom when her phone started to buzz. She looked at the screen and sighed. “I have to take this. I’m sorry.”
Beau waved her apology away. “I’ll clean up while you deal with that.”
It was her mother. “I need you to get me those aloe juice drinks.”
“Okay. I’ll order you some. In the future though, you can let Kay know so she can pick you up some when she goes marketing.”
“She never gets the right ones. You do.”
Kay was the house manager for her parents and she took a lot of the day-to-day load from Cora’s shoulders. Still, there were always these little things Walda insisted no one knew how to do right but her youngest daughter.
“I’ll let her know which Trader Joe’s has them.” Cora was fairly sure Kay already knew exactly that, but it never hurt to just underline for her mother that she had a full-time person to run her errands.
“I don’t know why you need to do that when you know where they are.”
“Because it’s Kay’s job and she does the marketing so why wouldn’t she want to be sure to get your favorite aloe juice?”
“You do it best,” her mother told her.
“There’s no doing it best. It’s grocery shopping. It’s a matter of getting the things people want and need.”
“But then you make sure I have everything else I need.” Walda’s voice had a tiny bit of petulance at the end.
“Mai, I love you. But I promise you this isn’t a matter of skill, just a matter of knowing what to get you. There are things only I can do, but this isn’t one of them. Be sure you get all your prescriptions filled this week.”
“You can do that when you get the aloe,” her mother said as if she hadn’t planned that from the first. “Anyway, I’m not sure I even need that blood pressure medication. It makes me tired.”
This was officially an old argument. Her mom’s I do what I want gene was one thing when she was younger and when she focused it on her work, but the older she got, the more it began to creep into her health and other things.
And became another issue Cora had become responsible for. “We’ve talked about this. You can’t just stop taking your pills so if you really do want to go off them, you need to do it with your doctor’s supervision.” Cora massaged the space between her eyebrows where her headache had begun.
“So bring my aloe juice with the pills later today. We’ll have lunch after.”
Just like her mother to just change the subject.
“I can’t. I’ve got appointments all afternoon. You know how to call in your pills. The number is on the bottle. I’ll touch base with Kay on the juice. ’Bye.” Cora disconnected with a heavy sigh.
“Every time I try to leave they pull me back in,” she muttered, looking up to discover Beau standing very close.
“Everything all right?” he asked.
“She and I are experiencing some growing pains. I have to be firm and she has to listen and respect. And then I have to be forgiving because her strong suit is not listening.”
“I’m sorry.”
Cora shrugged. “It’s the way of things. We’ll both survive and thrive in our new roles. Hopefully. I’m not under any misapprehension that it’ll be smooth or always easy, but it’s what needs to happen.”
“I have to get moving. I still haven’t finished packing. If you need me to, I can probably put this on hold. Go sign things later in the week,” he told her, taking her hands and pulling her closer.
“Aw thank you.” She reached up to kiss him, missing his lips but getting just beneath, against his beard. Yum. “I’m good. I’ll see you when you get back. Travel safe.”
She kept it light, though she knew that since he’d come back into her life she’d miss his presence in it. He’d return to Seattle and to her. She felt it in her gut.
Then he picked her up, taking them to the couch, resting her butt against the back of it. Cora wrapped herself around him as he bent to kiss her long and slow. He tasted of coffee and strawberry jam and felt like nothing else she’d ever experienced.
“I’ll talk with you soon. Have a good week,” he said, stepping back at last.
It was a good thing the couch was there to support her because he’d gone and made her knees all rubbery again.
“’Bye, Beau.” She walked him to the door, and then watched as he loped with long, ground-eating strides, out of her sight.