Pride And Pregnancy

“I hate to admit this,” she said on a soft rush of air, “but I am having serious appliance envy. My washer’s one step up from a rock in the river.”

“Right now,” Troy said, forcing his attention to the gleaming white appliances in front of him and away from the fragrant blonde at his elbow, “a rock in the river isn’t looking half-bad.”

He could feel her bemused, incredulous stare. “Please don’t tell me you’ve never used a washer before.”

“Only three times a week for the past four years,” he muttered. “But believe me, my expertise begins and ends with shove clothes in, dump in detergent, turn machine on, take clothes out.” He squinted at the panel. “I’m guessing I’ll never have to use the delicate cycle.”

“Not unless you’ve got silk boxers.”

“Uh…no.”

She giggled, and his insides flipped. “Stick with normal and you’ll probably be okay.”

“Always been my motto,” he said, and turned, and she was far too close, and it had been far too long, and it was far, far too soon to be feeling this far gone.

“How come you’re still here?” he asked softly, and her gaze flicked to his before she shrugged. Just one shoulder. Sadness radiated from her like sound waves.

“Where’re the kids?” she asked.

“Still at the school.” Troy leaned one hip against the dryer, his arms folded over his chest. Watching her not looking at him. Trying like hell to figure out what was going on here. “They wanted to stay for a little while, so I’m picking them up after lunch. If all goes well, they’ll start full-time on Monday. It seems like a great place.”

Another quick glance. A small smile. “Feel better now?”

“A bit. It’s a challenge, doing this on my own. I worry constantly about whether I’m making the right choice.”

Her silence enfolded him, half soothing, half unnerving. “At least you do worry about them.”

“That’s what parents do.”

“Not all parents,” she said, the sadness turning more acidic. Without thinking, he slipped his hand around hers. Her head jerked up, her eyes wide. But not, he thought, particularly surprised.

“Thanks,” he whispered, frozen, staring at her mouth. “For, you know. Being here.”

“No problem,” she said, equally frozen, staring at him staring at her mouth. “Um…don’t take this the wrong way, but are you thinkin’ about kissing me?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m thinking about doing a lot more than kissing.”

Outside, birds twittered, breezes blew, gas prices continued to yo-yo. Inside, life-altering decisions hovered on the brink of being made.

“What happened to just wanting to talk?” Karleen finally said.

“Apparently, I’ve moved on.”

The planet hurtled another few thousand miles through space before Karleen at last lifted her hand to trace one long, pale fingernail down his shirt placket.

“So I guess this means we’re gonna have sex.”

Somewhere, way in the back of his buzzing brain, Troy heard a resignation in her voice that, under other circumstances, might have tripped his sympathy trigger. At the moment, however, the safety on that particular trigger was firmly in place.

As opposed to other triggers, which were cocked and very, very ready.

“That’s bad, isn’t it?” he said. Still not moving. Away, at any rate.

“It sure as heck isn’t good.”

“Because…of everything you said.” He lifted one hand, cupping her neck. Her breathing went all shaky. So did his.

“Uh-huh.” She made a funny little sound in her throat when he touched his lips to her forehead.

“One of us should walk away,” he whispered into her hair, which was a lot softer than he’d expected.

“I know,” she said, and tilted her head back, and he lowered his mouth to hers, and his entire body sighed in relief, as though he’d been waiting for this moment for five years instead of five days. He knew it was wrong and foolish and pointless and he didn’t care, didn’t give a damn about anything except that brief shudder of surrender when their mouths met, the soft heat of her tongue against his, the softer, hotter press of her breasts against his chest. And, of course, the ever-popular collision of her pelvis against the aforementioned good-to-go trigger.

In fact, he was enjoying the whole kissing-pressing-colliding thing so much, it took a while before it sank in exactly where all this kissing and pressing and colliding was going on.

“For the record,” he said, “I don’t generally go around seducing women in my garage. Especially ones I’ve only known for less than a week.”

“Somehow,” she said, trickling her fingers down his arms, “I knew that.”

His pulse thudding nicely in several crucial pressure points in his body, he took her face in his hands. “So how come you’re not walking away?”

“Because…” Six inches from his face, her breasts rose as she sighed. “I guess I figure, since you have moved on, you may as well do that moving on with me.”

“O-kay…” Troy shook his head, but the ringing was still there. “But why?”

Karleen linked her hands around his neck, toying with the bristly hair at the nape, and little flickers of happiness erupted all over his skin. “Because I can handle this for what it is—a man who’s gone without for too long who needs…an outlet. Somebody to take the edge off, to ease you back into things.” She shrugged, and the little flickers flickered more earnestly. “The way I see it, I’m actually doing the women of Albuquerque a favor. So when you go out there for real, you’ll be able to see what you’re actually looking for without sex cloudin’ your brain.”

She had a point. Except that, as murky as things definitely were in the old gray matter, he wasn’t so far gone that he didn’t catch the tiniest hint of self-deprecation in her voice. “How…altruistic of you,” he said, letting his hands slide down to cup her sweet little backside.

She snorted. “Not exactly. Because it’s been a while for me, too, so I’m not gonna lie, I want this as bad as you do. But, see, I’m not lookin’ for anything serious, and you’re not lookin’ for somebody like me—and don’t deny it, you know it’s true—so this way, we both get what we need out of the deal. And anyway, we could both tiptoe around this thing for God knows how long until one or the other of us combusts…” Her gaze lowered to his neck, which she stood on tiptoe to—oh, man—lick. “Or,” she murmured, her breath cooling the moist spot, “we could get this out of the way and be done with it.”

He gripped her ribs, bringing her startled gaze up to his. “I’m overdue. Not desperate. Trust me, there’s not going to be anything quick about this.”

One eyebrow arched before, slowly, her mouth stretched into a smile that was pure challenge.

“Guess we’ll have to see about that,” she said, then took him by the hand and led him back to her house, as his garage door groaned closed behind them.

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