Hands on his hips, he bent his head and closed his eyes. Luke’s faint whistling snores rumbled down the hall. He had to pare unnecessary, distracting emotions from duty and responsibility, lock them away. Resolute, he stepped into a pair of gray cotton shorts and laced up his shoes. The house had three bedrooms. He’d moved into his parents’ room, the one with a window onto the backyard. For safety reasons Luke’s was the first on the front side of the house; in case of fire, he wanted his brother closest to the front door. They’d turned his old room in the corner into a home gym with mirrored walls, a treadmill, a weight set, a heavy bag, and a speed bag. He started with the treadmill, knocking out five miles in half an hour before putting on the gel wrap gloves. Pounding the heavy bag held some appeal, but he wanted to shut down his mind, so he opted for the rhythm and endurance of the speed bag.
It worked. By the time dawn lightened the sky outside the window he’d exhausted his body and mind along with his soul. Dispassionate again, from the recesses of his now-silent mind he felt sweat trickle down the column of his back in time to the rapid thumps of his heart against his ribs. He unwrapped the gloves. Five hours of sleep, another pot of coffee, and he’d be back on his game. Shower first.
Want to share a shower?
He kept the shower cool, partially to dissipate heat before he got into bed, partially as a preventative measure, but at the memory of Eve’s softly whispered words, despite the workout, the late hours, his physical and mental weariness, despite the cool water pelting his body, heat thumped strong and hard in his cock.
Without conscious thought his hand skated down his abdomen and gripped his shaft. He kept the steady, slow pace, riding the rush as his balls tightened and the pressure grew. He imagined her naked, in his bed, under him, spread for him, body quivering as he drove into her, taking his time, right there with him as the heat built, sucking them into the vortex. He slowed his strokes, and in his fantasy, she said his name, his real name when she came.
A low groan escaped, inaudible, he hoped, under the running water and behind the closed door, as he bent forward, shuddering as an orgasm pulsed through him. Exhaustion and something more elemental that felt far too much like fear slammed a rock-fist against his ribcage. He turned off the shower, toweled off, and went to bed.
Eventually he slept.
CHAPTER SIX
Normal. Look and act normal. Don’t bring any suspicion on your family. Keep it together, Eve.
She took a deep breath of humid air saturated with late afternoon sunshine to steel herself for another Monday dinner with her parents, and opened the squeaky metal screen door. “Hello!” she called.
“In the kitchen, Evie, dear.”
She walked into the tiny house she’d called home her entire life. A Bose SoundDock identical to the one she used to play music on during prep was hooked up to an iPod on top of the piano, Lionel Hampton, her father’s favorite jazz artist, flying home at a low volume in the living room. She dropped her purse on the sofa, gave the knob on the window air conditioner a twist to cool the room for Caleb, and headed for the kitchen to find her mother.
“Hi, Mom,” she said with a quick hug, then stood back to let her mother inspect her.
“Very nice, dear.”
She wore a chocolate brown knee-length skirt, a green blouse with three-quarter sleeves, and brown sandals, one of several outfits suitable for church, family dinners, and social occasions. “How can I help?”
“Set the table. Caleb called. He’s preparing for trial and can’t make it, so we’re just three tonight.”
“Dad didn’t invite anyone?” From her earliest memories, the numbers at Monday night suppers ranged from the four Webbers to as many as eleven or twelve crowded around the dining room table. Homeless people, recovering addicts, someone newly released from jail in need of a home-cooked meal before a ride to the halfway house four blocks east, fellow pastors and childhood friends traveling through on their way to and from vacations or conferences, Eve and Caleb’s friends, city council members. She’d learned the hospitality industry’s Golden Rule—make everyone feel comfortable and welcome—at home, from her parents’ example.
Her mother pulled a dented metal pan from the oven. “Not tonight,” she said as she pulled back foil to reveal slabs of something edged in purple with seeds scattered in the middle green flesh simmered in red sauce.
“What’s that?” Eve asked.
“Baked eggplant,” her mother said in a harried voice. “Your father had another checkup with the cardiologist. His cholesterol is still too high. The doctor recommended a vegetarian diet.”
Eve could imagine what her father thought about that, but since he was completely unable to boil water, he was at his wife’s mercy when it came to eating. “I thought for sure he’d invite Cesar,” Eve called from the dining room as she opened the drawers in the buffet to get the place mats.
“How is Cesar?”
“Struggling with algebra. Otherwise, fine.” She thought it best not to mention the altercation with Lyle Murphy, at least not until her mother had dinner on the table. The eggplant had reduced her normally unflappable mother to muttered almost-curses.
Eve set the table, including the serving dishes her mother set in the pass-through window. The transition from the casserole dish to the serving dish rendered the baked eggplant an almost unrecognizable glop, but the steamed broccoli doused in lemon looked okay, as did the rice. Her mother walked down the hall to her husband’s office. As Eve took her seat, she heard her mother say, “Supper’s ready.”