TEN

Mia

Okay, so I’m a coward, but we’d already established that.

I was afraid I’d let Ole slip from my shaking fingers when I pulled him from the water, and he wasn’t pleased when it took me way too long to get him dressed. Luckily Jordy was already inside, waiting for him, and I unceremoniously dropped him in her lap. With a quickly mumbled excuse about work, I hightailed it out of there. It wasn’t until I was halfway around the bay that I allowed myself to think.

About the electric charge of his body right behind me.

About the deep vibrations of his voice against the shell of my ear.

About those confusing and tantalizing words he said.

Most of all, about the burn on my neck, where the heat of his lips marked me. Holy heart failure. I was glad he left right after or I might never have drawn my next breath.

Of course, I haven’t been able to think about anything else since I got home. Those changes to the designs I was pretending to be so eager to get back to, have not been touched. The ratatouille I was planning to make with the last of the zucchini has not even been started. Instead, I’ve been staring out the window, not wanting to miss a single glimpse of him as long as it’s from the safety of my house. Pathetic.

“Hey, honey.” Steffie’s voice is almost a surprise when she answers, I’m so used to leaving a message.

“How are ya?” I jump in, unnaturally chipper. There’s no hiding my scrambled mood from Steffie because she comes right back.

“Maybe I should ask how things are with you? You sound funny.” She knows me too well. “What happened?”

“Nothing much. I’ve been busy. Just gave the baby a bath, he’d shit all over himself. Nursing is going well. He’s quite the little bruiser, feisty as all get out, but he turns to mush when you dip him in water.” I’m rambling, I know it, but I can’t stop myself. “Then Jared said some stuff and threw me off. Anyway, I got those edits back and need to finish the designs, so I came home. What are you up to? The kids okay?”

“Not so fast. What was that about your neighbour? What did he say to you?”

“He knows I saw him,” I blurt out. “That time on the dock? When he...”

“Banging Barbie. Yes, I remember, Mia. Hard to forget,” she adds sardonically.

“Right. Anyway, he overheard me telling his sister I’m not his type, and one thing led to another.”

“You told her?”

“It kinda slipped,” I confess guiltily. “He came inside when I was bathing the baby and told me I was wrong. And he kissed me.”

I have to hold the phone away from my ear, she squeals so loud.

“Kissed you, kissed you? Like on the mouth?” Apparently this makes her happy, since I can hear the grin in her voice.

“Well, no. More like a...friendly kiss, I guess.”

“Cheek?”

“My neck, actually.”

“Damn, that’s hot. I love the neck,” she almost purrs. “And don’t be an idiot,” she adds sternly. “That’s not a friendly kiss and you know it.”

I do. That’s the trouble. That kiss was far from friendly, and so were the words that followed. More of a challenge, actually, and one I’m not quite sure what to do with. I feel my resolve not to get too attached slowly melt.

No longer playing coy, because what’s the use with the cat already out of the bag, I end up telling Steffie what happened verbatim. Word for stinking word, firmly lodged in my memory. I feel twelve years old, telling my best friend the boy I was crushing on looked at me. Except Jared hadn’t just looked, and I wasn’t aware I’d been crushing. Denial will do that to you.

“He likes you.” Steffie ironically uses the exact same words Jordy said to me earlier. I denied it then—I’m no longer denying it now.

“But why?” The question flies from my mouth before I know it. It sounds needy, but I really just can’t wrap my head around it.

He doesn’t know me. Not really, just that I’m a little nuts, he’s been witness to that a few times now, to my utter horror. I’m pretty positive I have at least a few years on him and for Christ’s sake, look at me.

“Does he need a reason?” she fires back at me. “I mean other than the obvious: you’re gorgeous, intelligent, unbelievably kind, and refreshingly earthy.” I can’t hold back the snort at her summation.

“You started off so well,” I convey with a chuckle. “But kind and earthy? Those are adjectives usually reserved for when you’re desperate to find something nice to say. Not exactly flattering.”

“Depends on your point of view,” she argues. “If you’ve always been blinded by fake and self-absorbed, earthy and kind might be the most flattering thing someone could call you.” Annoyingly, as usual, my friend makes a point, but I’m not ready to concede.

“How would you even know that? The fake and self-absorbed bit, who says that applies to him?”

“Hellooo, blonde on dock?” she sneers before softening her tone. “Besides, I may have looked your hottie neighbour up. Most of the women he’s pictured with are all tits and teeth—and not a real one in the bunch.”

“You did what?”

“Googled him. He looked familiar, and the other day when Doug was watching the sports news, they announced Jared Kesla had confirmed his retirement. He’s a hockey player.” I’d like to say I’m shocked, but I’m not really. I spotted enough paraphernalia around his house to know he’s a sports guy, but I was thinking along the lines of a hobby rather than a career. It makes sense though, I had a hard time imagining him in any kind of corporate setting, and over the past week, there’d been some things Jordy had let slip that suddenly fit. Jared Kesla. His name even sounds like that of a hockey player.

“...was injured pretty bad last year, according to Doug. The rest I found on the Internet.” Steffie, who hasn’t stopped talking, interrupts my thoughts.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“I said that apparently he was known as a tough as nails defenseman. Pretty good too: he won the Calder Trophy, his rookie year, and was awarded the James Norris Trophy, five years ago.”

“I don’t even know what those mean, but I’m assuming that’s good?”

“God!” Steffie blurts out, clearly exasperated. “I can’t even believe you call yourself Canadian.”

“Whatever,” I dismiss her, having had this argument before. “Tell me about the injury?” I’m pretty sure it’s his knee, since I couldn’t help but notice the scars, but it’s not something you just casually ask.

“Last regular game of the season, last year, he got nailed in the boards. Took out his knee. Pretty ugly too, from what Doug tells me. He says his retirement isn’t really news, anyone who watched that play could see it was a career-ending injury. Especially given his age.” I wince at her description before my mind focuses in on one piece of information.

“His age?” I ignore Steffie’s chuckle as I’m starting to realize I know little to nothing about him. I’ve spent some time with Jordy, know she’s on maternity leave from the advertising agency she works for. She also mentioned the guy she’d been seeing had bailed, when he found out she was pregnant, which is when big brother stepped up to the plate. I know she’s thirty-six, something I overheard in the hospital, but that’s about it.

“Thirty-nine, birthday coming up in September, so then he’ll be in his forties as well,” she teases. Okay, so he’s younger like I thought, but not by that much. It makes me feel a little less...cougar-ish. “He’s never been married, and from what I could find, he’s got—”

“No more, honey,” I cut Steffie off. It suddenly doesn’t feel right, listening to her giving me whatever background she was able to dig up off Google. “I think maybe I should just wait until he wants to tell me.”

“Yeah,” she gently says after a pause. “That’s probably a good idea.”

By the time we end the call, the sun is a pretty, deep orange, low in the sky, and the lake has quieted down. I glance over the water to his house, where some lights are already on, when I spot movement on the dock. Leaning forward in one of the deck chairs, his elbows settling on his knees and his chin propped up on his hands, is Jared. His gaze unapologetically in my direction, and even though I’m pretty sure he can’t see me, his eyes seem to be locked on mine.

Jared

I put the bottle to my lips and throw back the last sip of beer.

Funny, for someone who’d found solace in beer a little too easily in the past year, tonight is the first night, since Ole was born, that I actually craved it.

After an easy dinner, Jordy went to her bedroom to feed and announced she’d likely crash afterward. With the house quiet, I finally turned off the boring baseball game, grabbed a bottle, and parked myself in the chair at the end of the dock. It’s a pretty night, the last of the sunlight disappearing at the horizon and except the occasional laughter bouncing off the water from one of the cottages on the other side, the lake is peaceful. It always amazes me that the moment the sun goes down, the ripples over the lake seem to smooth right out, leaving a mirror-like surface behind.

Not that the lake is the only thing holding my attention. The cottage, only a few hundred yards away, and its intriguing owner, catches my attention more than a few times as well. It isn’t until I clearly feel eyes on me that I focus there. I don’t see her, none of the lights are on yet, but somehow I know she’s watching as I lean forward in my seat. Part of me is tempted to give her another show; take my already stiffening cock from my shorts and stroke myself. Knowing she’s watching—knowing I have the power to turn her on—would probably have me off in a heartbeat.

Fucking hell.

It’s not even completely dark out yet, and although my sister went to bed, it just seems wrong. Plus, I obviously freaked Mia out this afternoon—I whip out my cock, I’ll never see her again. That would be counter-productive.

So instead, with one last look at her window, I head inside to grab another beer and try the baseball game again. I know I’ve fallen asleep on the couch when Ole’s angry screams have me almost rolling off the cushions. Only a little disoriented, I make my way to the nursery to find him kicking furiously at his blanket. I’ve just picked him up when Jordy walks into the room, her hair mussed as she rubs the sleep from her eyes.

“Go back to bed, Pipsqueak. I’ll clean him up and bring him to you.” Uncharacteristically obedient, and without a word, she turns right back around. The baby’s settled down a little now that he has my undivided attention. It helps that I’m relieving him of a heavily soaked diaper, which can’t be comfortable. I’ve actually become quite handy at these diaper changes, and I don’t even mind them that much. Gives me a chance to bond with the little guy.

I drop him off with Jordy, and tell her I’ll be back to put him to bed in a bit. I manage to catch the last two innings of the game that apparently turned into something worth watching while I was asleep, since they needed extra innings. When the final out is called, I notice it is after eleven, so I shut off the TV and head back to my sister’s room. She’s half-asleep when I come in, but still throws me a sweet smile.

“Thanks for being there for me,” she whispers over the sleeping form of her son. I bend down and kiss her forehead.

“Always,” I whisper back, before carefully picking up the baby and carrying him back to his crib.

Always.

It has been that way since our parents died. We’re the only family the other has.

Ole doesn’t even flinch when I put him down, but still I sit down in the rocking chair for a bit to make sure. My parents would’ve loved having a grandchild to fawn over, and I’m sad they’re not here anymore to enjoy him. Most of the time, I’d say I’m used to not having my mom and dad around, but there are some days when I really miss them. I would’ve loved to have been able to talk to my dad when I was told my career was over. It would’ve been great to have him clap me on the shoulder and tell me in his loud, boisterous voice, that it’s not the end of the world. That no son of his worth his salt would hang his head in defeat. He’d been a fiercely proud man; not just of me, but my sister as well. He’d worked hard his whole life. Came to Canada from Norway, when he was just nineteen years old and could leave the foster care he grew up in. He’d put himself through school, met my mom, who was French-Canadian, and married her within months of meeting her. Dad had always dreamed of a big family, with lots of young ones running around. Probably because he never had that as a child. It makes me sad to think he missed out on this. That they missed out on this.

I gently kiss the baby’s almost hairless head and carefully leave the room. I’m a little sad and not quite ready for bed.

My feet carry me to the sliding doors. The moon is reflecting off the water, casting a blue hue over everything. The window across the water is dark and I think about Mia. Wondering what her story is. Where her family is. Why she is living alone, a virtual hermit, with only a dog for company? Is she thinking of me?

No sooner has that thought formed, and I’m sliding the door open, stepping outside. A splash draws my attention and my eyes find the ripples on the water. To my surprise I see a head bob up. Even with her hair wet, she is familiar enough. Keeping my eyes fixed on her leisurely stroke through the water, I make my way down the dock, sitting back down in the chair I left there earlier. I don’t think she’s seen me, as I watch, only able to see her head and shoulders as she swims out toward the open lake. A bit irritated she’d be stupid enough to swim into the potential path of a boat, in the middle of the night, I’m about to jump in the boat and haul her ass out, when I see her turning back toward her dock. She doesn’t appear to see me and when I watch her pull herself up, water sluicing down her naked body, my breath catches in my throat. Her skin looks pale in the moonlight, almost translucent. As she bends over to pick up a towel she had tossed in her kayak, her lush, ripe ass is on full display. She shakes out her hair, sending droplets flying before running the towel over it. Then she wraps it around herself and walks toward her house, not looking in my direction even once.

Moments later, I hear the sliding door open and watch as her shadow steps onto the porch.

Whatever restraint I might have felt before, is now gone. Life is too short. I keep my eyes on her as I unzip and free my cock, lifting my shirt up my torso. It feels hard and hot in my hand, and I brush the pad of my thumb over the tip where a drop already formed. I slide up my hand and roll my palm over the crown, wetting it before fisting it firmly around my shaft. My hips come up involuntarily, seeking friction, as I slide my grip firmly up and down. A low groan rumbles from my chest, as I imagine her small hand on my skin. A firm squeeze when my thumb hits the ridge and back down to the root. I scoot my hips lower in the seat, so my other hand can slip out my balls and tug them, as I feel the tingle at the base of my spine. I knew it wouldn’t take much. My hand jerks faster and my mouth falls open, trying to get more air. I almost miss the soft moan bouncing over the water, but I don’t miss the slight movements of her shape, since I’ve not removed my eyes from her since I came out.

My fist is moving at lightning speed, and I have to bite my lip to keep from yelling out when I come hard over my hand and belly. I tug off my shirt and wipe my hand and my stomach, as I watch her shadow move and disappear into the house.

The last thing I hear is the click of her door.