~Joy~
“That dog just follows Dad all over the place,” Noel says on Sunday afternoon. We’re at Dad’s, making dinner while he’s outside with Nancy, working on the yard. “You should give her to him.”
I stop peeling potatoes to turn and stare at my sister. “Uh, hello? She’s mine.”
“Okay, maybe you could share custody. Dad’s been lonely, and Nancy clearly likes him.”
I glance outside and grin at my one-eyed bulldog, who is currently sunbathing in the grass while Dad mows the lawn around her.
“Okay, that’s pretty cute,” I concede. “Maybe Dad would like to have Nancy around more. I could leave her here during the day when I’m working.”
Our father isn’t retired, but he works mainly from home, so maybe having Nancy here to keep him company isn’t such a bad idea.
“Something to think about,” Noel agrees, reaching for the hand-mixer. She’s whipping up a batch of cornbread.
“Remember when you broke this?” she asks, pointing at the chip in the plastic of the mixer. “You were so mad, and you threw this on the floor.”
“Yeah, I was mad at you because you raided my closet again and ruined my favorite jeans.”
“Mom didn’t even bat an eye,” she murmurs softly. “She just told us to clean up our mess and that I’d be buying you new jeans.”
“Which you never did.” I turn to her. “Maybe you should go to that anniversary sale and make good on that.”
She sticks out her tongue at me, making me laugh.
“These hand towels are threadbare,” I say, trying to dry my hands. “Why doesn’t Dad throw them away and get new ones?”
“You know why,” Noel says softly. “Because they were Mom’s.”
She’s right. Everything in the house is exactly the way it was the day Mom died. It’s as if she’s just run out to the grocery store and will walk back through the door at any minute.
“I understood it for the first year,” I comment with a sigh. “I mean, we all miss her. But it’s been two years now, and he hasn’t made any changes at all.”
“It’s comforting for him,” she says.
“It’s not healthy,” I reply and walk to the window to look out at Dad and Nancy, then frown at the third figure squatting in the garden. “Is that Jace out there?”
Noel joins me and nods. “Looks like it. Speaking of Dr. Handsome, you need to spill it.”
“Spill what?”
Noel cocks a brow. “You’re a smart woman, Joy. You know what.”
I blow a raspberry through my lips and lean on the counter, still staring outside as Jace stands and pushes the wheelbarrow full of weeds to the alley to toss the debris onto the compost pile.
“Things are changing,” I say, watching his muscles flex under the weight. “Not in a bad way.”
“I noticed you’ve been spending more time together,” Noel says.
“We have, and honestly, it’s been a lot of fun. I don’t think I realized over the past few years that I missed him.”
“Well, you’ve both been busy,” she offers and pours her batter into a pan, then slips it into the oven. “But I feel like I need to point out that you never looked at him like this before.”
“Like what?”
“Like he’s a hot fudge sundae, and you want to lap up every drop.”
I bust up laughing but don’t deny it.
Because holy shit can the man kiss. I had no idea.
He might have ruined me for all other men.
But before I can say anything, both men and the dog come through the back door.
“What’s so funny?” Jace asks as he walks straight to me and wraps me up in a hug. I haven’t seen him since yesterday morning. I got called into work and spent all day there yesterday, and by the time I got home, I fell into bed and slept like the dead.
“Nothing,” I lie. Jace narrows his eyes at me, but I change the subject. “What are you doing here?”
“Jace comes every weekend to help me out with the yard or things around the house,” Dad says as he pulls two bottles of water out of the fridge and tosses one to Jace.
“You do?” I ask in surprise. I had no idea.
He leans in and whispers in my ear, “You don’t know everything about me.”
He’s echoing my words from the other night, and it’s hot as hell.
“Sometimes, we just watch sports,” Jace adds, making my dad smile.
“I had no idea that you guys were such good buddies.”
Jace squeezes my hand as if to say, “I’ll tell you all about it later,” and Noel asks Dad where he put Mom’s cornbread platter.
Nancy nudges my leg, wanting a scratch behind the ear, so I squat beside her and oblige.
“Hey there, good girl. Were you helping Grandpa in the yard?”
“She’s an excellent helper,” Dad says, and I scoff.
“Sure, she’s excellent at napping in the grass.”
“Well, that’s her job,” he says in her defense, and it softens my heart toward my father even more.
Larry Thompson might very well be the kindest, gentlest man ever born. The heartache he’s been through over the last few years is just plain unfair.
When the table is set, we sit down for dinner. Nancy has abandoned my leg for Dad’s, resting her chin on his thigh, waiting for a handout.
I love that she enjoys my father. Maybe I’ll take Noel’s advice and leave her with Dad once in a while if he’s open to keeping her.
Dad slips Nancy a piece of chicken and rubs behind her ear before returning to his own meal.
Yeah, I don’t think I’ll have to talk him into it.
“Oh, girls, I have something for you,” Dad says and jumps up from the table. He hurries into his bedroom and returns with two small boxes. “I know your mother would want you to have these.”
Dad hasn’t given us anything from our mom since she passed, so this is a big deal. I hope it means that he’s come to terms with losing her.
Inside my box is the heart-shaped locket that I bought for her the Christmas before she passed. Noel’s is a charm bracelet.
We glance at each other, both surprised.
“Thanks, Dad,” Noel says, setting the box next to her plate. “I know it’s not easy for you to part with Mom’s things.”
“Well, I suppose I can’t keep them forever,” he says with a sigh, and again, Noel and I look at each other in surprise.
“If you’d like,” I begin, “we would be happy to come over and help go through some of her stuff. We could donate her clothes to the women’s shelter, and—”
“No.” Dad’s voice is hard, and his eyes have gone cold. My happy, jovial, good-natured father has been replaced by the grief-stricken one. “You will do no such thing.”
“Dad,” Noel says softly, “you just said yourself that you can’t keep everything forever.”
“You will not come in and take her out of here,” he says adamantly. His hands have balled into fists on the table. “There’s no need for that.”
“Can we just tidy up?” I ask in desperation. “I mean, the dust rag she used is still on the mantle, ironically covered in dust.”
“No,” he says again and shakes his head. He won’t look at either of us. He’s gone pale. “No.”
“Okay,” Jace says and covers my hand with his. “It’s okay, Larry. Now you know, that when you’re ready, the girls will help. I’ll help, too, if you’d like. I noticed you planted carrots out back. I don’t remember seeing them last week.”
And just like that, Dad takes a deep breath, rubs Nancy’s head, and talks about his vegetable garden with Jace while Noel and I push our food around on our plates, half-listening.
When dinner is over, Noel and I clean up the dishes, and she makes a hasty escape. I can see the grief in her eyes as she waves goodbye and leaves out the front door.
Coming to Dad’s house is never easy for either of us.
“I guess I should go, too,” I say.
“Come to my place,” Jace says. “I’d like to show you the progress in the bathroom.”
“I have Nancy.”
“She can stay here tonight,” Dad says with a smile. Nancy is sitting next to his feet as if that’s exactly where she belongs. “We’ll watch some TV and make an early night of it.”
“I’ll come get her in the morning,” I reply and give Dad a big hug. “I love you, Daddy.”
“I know. I love you, too, baby girl.”
“You have to talk to me,” Jace says when we pull up to his house. I left my car at Dad’s, and yes, I know what that means. That I’ll be staying with Jace tonight. But it felt natural to just slip into his car and come home with him.
I just haven’t said much because I’m way too inside my own head about my dad and Noel and Jace and all of the craziness going on in my life right now.
He throws the car into park, cuts the engine, and we walk inside the house. He left a few lights on in the hallway and kitchen, and I walk directly to the wall of windows that frames the city and the Sound beyond it.
“I don’t get it,” I mutter as Jace joins me. He holds my hand, tangling our fingers. “How can he do it? How can he keep that house exactly the way it was when she was living?”
“He misses her,” he says.
“Two years. She’s been gone for two years, Jace. I miss her, too, but Jesus, it’s been two years. There’s no need to leave her dust rag out, or her laundry in the hamper. Her makeup on the vanity. My God, her hairbrush, full of hair, is still on the bathroom sink.”
“Two years isn’t that long when you’ve lost the woman you spent more than forty years with,” he points out, bringing tears to my eyes. “I know she was your mom, and you were close, but Joy, she was his wife. His partner in all things. He slept next to her every night.”
“You’re right.” I blink rapidly against the tears that want to fall. “I can’t imagine it.”
He squeezes my hand. “I know. I can’t either. Why do you think I go see him every week? Because I know he’s lonely, and I enjoy him. He’s one of the best people I know.”
“I can’t believe you’ve been going to see him every week and I didn’t know.” I look up at him, then lean in and press a kiss to his arm. “You’re a good man, Jace Crawford.”
“Don’t let it get out.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
He smiles down at me, then tugs on my hand and leads me back to his guest bathroom. The trim is taped off, the floor and fixtures protected by a tarp, and the walls are covered in a bold blue.
“We got the first coat on today,” he says. “Levi isn’t great with a paintbrush, but he’s an excellent taper.”
“I love the color,” I reply. “It would look fantastic with a Moroccan tile.”
“I was thinking the same thing,” he says with a smile. “Wyatt sent me the name of a good tile guy. I’ll call him tomorrow.”
I kick off my shoes into the hallway, pull my hair into a ponytail, and reach for a roller.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“I’m starting the second coat.” I smile over at him. “Might as well get this done.”
“You don’t have to paint my bathroom,” he insists, but I’ve already poured the paint into the pan.
“I like doing this, remember?”
“Okay.” He shrugs and reaches for another roller. But first, he sets his phone on the countertop and starts a playlist. Rob Thomas and Santana come blaring out of his phone, and my hips immediately begin to move as I roll the paint onto the wall.
“And it’s just like the ocean . . .”
I shake my booty back to the pan to load my roller and find Jace watching me with a grin.
“What?”
“I like the way you move, Dr. Thomas.”
I curtsey. “Thank you, Dr. Crawford.”
I go back to my dancing and painting. After three more songs, Jace passes a glass of white wine under my nose, and I greedily take it from him, sipping it as I take in our handiwork.
“We’re good at this,” I say.
“You’re good at everything,” he replies, sipping his wine. Maroon 5’s Sugar comes on, and with a half-smile, Jace sets our glasses aside and pulls me into his arms to dance.
“I love this song,” he says.
Jace can do a lot of things well. He’s amazing at math. He’s the best surgeon on the West Coast, and maybe in the country.
And that’s not just my bias talking.
But when it comes to dancing, he could give Fred Astaire a run for his money. He’s light on his feet, his posture is perfect, and the way his muscles move as he sways makes my mouth go dry.
Jesus, he’s a sight to behold.
I can’t help but think that he’d move this way in bed, too—with confidence and grace. His hands are sure and strong, one on my back and the other holding mine as he moves us across the floor, making me laugh when he dips me back and then steals a kiss as he pulls me back up.
“You’re charming,” I murmur against his lips. “And this wine is going to my head.”
“That was my evil plan,” he admits and nibbles on the corner of my mouth. “Get you good and drunk.”
“Hey, no hanky-panky,” I inform him, jabbing my finger into his chest. “I’ll stay in the guest room.”
“Over my cold, dead body,” he growls and buries his face in my neck as Adam Levine sings about girls like me. I have Jace wrapped around me and Adam in my ears, and it’s a heady combination.
“Where will I sleep?”
“My bed,” he replies immediately.
“I never said I would sleep with you.”
“Sleep,” he says. “Don’t think for a minute that you’re getting me naked.”
I snort, making him grin.
“I mean, you must think very highly of yourself if you think I’ll just take my clothes off and let you have your way with me.”
He’s barely moving now, just snuggled up against me, his mouth gliding over my skin as he talks, sending delicious chills over my body.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.” My voice is weak, and I feel him smile against me.
“There’s no way I’d want to kiss you.” He presses those lips against the pulse in my neck. “Bite you.” He bares his teeth and nibbles me there. “Lick you.”
He leaves a wet trail down to my collarbone, and I can’t even remember what we were talking about now.
“Do you work tomorrow?” he asks, bringing me out of the sexy fog.
“No.”
“Good.” He presses his lips to my forehead. “You can sleep in tomorrow morning.”
We spend the next thirty minutes cleaning up our painting mess, then gather our empty wine glasses and wander through the house to his master suite.
The room is massive with simple furniture and neutral-colored linens. More windows line the west window, showing off the city and the water beyond.
“I need a shower,” I murmur, reaching high above my head in a stretch. Without a word, Jace marches into his bathroom, and then I hear the shower come to life.
“It’s ready for you,” he calls out. I walk to the doorway and lean one shoulder on the doorjamb, watching as he peels off his shirt, tosses it into his hamper, and disappears into the attached closet. Two minutes later, he returns wearing nothing but pajama pants and a smile. “Do your thing, babe.”
He kisses my forehead and leaves me alone in the bathroom. He doesn’t assume he can join me in the shower, and he doesn’t ask. He just gives me space, and I’m grateful.
Because even though we’ve known each other for years, and have been through a lot together, he’s never seen me naked, or vice versa.
And I’m a woman. I don’t want the first time he sees me naked to be in the shower. The shower is sexy and fun, but it’s not romantic.
I roll my eyes at myself, strip out of my clothes, and then get in the steamy spray, sighing when the hot water slides down my body.
I can’t believe I’m here, in Jace’s house, ready to be intimate with him. Because let’s be honest, I’m ready.
I would have let him do me against the wet tile in the bathroom if he’d had the inclination.
“Didn’t want to startle you,” he calls out as he comes into the room. He can’t see me through the foggy, glass shower door. “I’m just getting you some clean clothes.”
“Um, thanks.”
“They’re on the counter for you.”
And then he’s gone again. That’s Jace, thoughtful and kind, through and through.
I’d better watch myself because it would be incredibly easy to fall in love with him.
I pause with the soap in my hand and stare at the tile. Aren’t I already in love with him?
No. I shake my head and rinse off. This is lust. He’s hot, and I love him as a friend. We’re attracted to each other, and we’re just seeing where this goes.
I step out of the shower and reach for the towel to dry off, calling myself sixteen kinds of fool.
I’m lying to myself.
I reach for the clothes Jace left for me and smile. A Stanford T-shirt, our alma mater, and a pair of boxer shorts that are about five sizes too big. I roll them and pray they stay in place when I walk across the room.
It wouldn’t be super sexy to have them fall around my ankles and trip me as I try to make it to the bedroom.
But I discover it won’t matter in the least because when I return to the bedroom, Jace is sitting up in bed, his legs under the covers and just the sidelight on, but he’s out cold, sleeping silently.
So, I slide into bed next to him and turn off the light. He eases down next to me, pulls me close, and then falls back to sleep.