“We’ll talk while we eat,” he went on after I rolled them back.
I held his gaze and whispered, “Yeah, honey, that’d be good.”
He pushed even closer and kissed me lightly.
Then he moved away and, not moving a muscle, only my eyes, I watched him bend down and snatch up his shirt. I also watched him tug it on as he sauntered out of my bedroom and into the hall.
He even made tugging on a dirty tee look sexy.
I sighed.
Then I snuggled deeper into my bed, thinking that had actually gone quite well.
Mickey was no longer seeing Bridget.
Auspiciously, at this early juncture, he expected exclusivity from me and intended to give the same.
The fact he didn’t text me since the morning of the day before was a simple mistake.
He was insanely phenomenal in bed.
And he liked Chinese.
Yes, that had gone quite well.
So well, naked and alone in my bed while Mickey was off ordering Chinese, I started smiling.
*
After ordering, Mickey came back to me and told me he was going over to his place to shower and get out of his dusty clothes.
He then sat at the edge of the bed again, but lifted me in his arms this time, kissing me thoroughly before he ended it, kissed my nose, placed me back in bed, got up and walked away.
I was wrecked but I’d just had sex with Mickey. We were going to have dinner together, alone at my house.
And I didn’t care what I was going to do was going to say.
I wasn’t wasting this opportunity.
So the minute I heard the front door close, I threw back the covers and launched myself out of bed.
I put on new undies—ecru, lacy, sexy—and a pair of loose-fitting yoga pants (that Josie disapproved of me buying, looking at them with revulsion and stating she feared yoga pants were heralding the death of fashion). I paired these with a powder pink, light cashmere sweater that had a deep dip in the back that was held together with a thin strap of cashmere across my shoulders.
I arranged my hair in a messy knot at the top back of my head, pulling out tendrils around my ears and neck that I hoped looked both adorable and appealing.
Then I dashed out of my bedroom, got rid of the omelet, did the minimal clean up and ran around lighting candles and lamps so the effect would be cozy and romantic.
I left Pandora on my Billie Holiday station. I wasn’t feeling the blues but Billie Holiday worked for a variety of situations.
I was pulling down plates when Mickey came back.
I watched as he caught my eyes, grinned, then looked around the house and back to me, his grin turning smug.
I didn’t care. He knew I was into him and I wanted him to know that what we’d just shared and spending time with him was important to me.
He could be smug about it. He was gorgeous.
And right then he was all mine.
The delivery guy came, Mickey paid and I brought plates, silverware and napkins down to the sectional while Mickey pulled out food. I also got myself a glass of wine and Mickey a beer (something I started stocking when the possibility of him being over became a probability, something that, until then, I’d never had the chance to offer him).
Mickey was lounged back with an eggroll over a plate and I’d torn the corner of a crab cheese wonton loose and had dipped it in some sweet and sour sauce that was resting on a scrap of the brown paper bag the delivery came in that was sitting on the couch between us.
I held the dripping wedge over my plate, my eyes to it, when I said quietly, “I like spending time with you, Mickey.”
“Got that, Amy.”
At his response, I lifted my gaze to him and put the wonton in my mouth.
As I was chewing, Mickey went on, “Need you to get that I like spending time with you, too, baby.”
I nodded, swallowing.
“We both got busy lives,” he told me. “This isn’t going to be easy. We just gotta work at making it worth it.”
He was right about that.
His tone had changed when he continued, “And I gotta admit that I took it for granted you’d get it without me giving it to you.”
It wasn’t an accusation.
It almost sounded contrite.
But I took it as an accusation. “I understand you’re busy, Mickey. That’s not what I’m saying. And don’t take this as ugly, just me sharing, but even knowing you’re busy, it doesn’t feel good that in all that busy, you don’t have a lot of time for me.”
“Got word out that I’m takin’ private roof jobs.”
I held my forgotten plate with its lone, partially dissected wonton on it in my hand and stared at him.
“Already?” I asked.
His eyes warmed. “You gave me the idea. It was a good idea. I thought on it and when I did, I thought, why wait? Either I’m gonna be able to pull this off or I’m not, but either way, I gotta know sooner rather than later. So I told a few folks, talked to a few of the crew. That rain last week, had two people phone me because they had leaks and they didn’t want Ralph to deal with them. They wanted me.”
I smiled big and said excitedly, “That’s great, Mickey.”
He smiled back, popped the rest of his eggroll in his mouth, chewed, swallowed and told me, “Sent boys to do those jobs and do ’em right and also had a meet with Arnie so I could find out what I had to do legally to establish a company. Started work on that too.”
“Arnie?” I asked, resting the plate in my lap to rip off another wedge of my wonton.
“Arnie Weaver,” he answered. “Attorney in town. Him and his partner the only ones I’ve met that I actually like.”
I hoped that didn’t color his hopefully eventual meeting with Lawr.
I didn’t remark on that.
“So you’re busier than normal,” I noted.
His voice lowered. “No, Amy, I’m usually busy. I’m definitely busier, but I’m always busy. Now we’ve had that out, though, won’t take where you’re at with me and what we’re tryin’ to build for granted.”
The light feeling I was experiencing got lighter and I gave him another smile as I replied, “And in return, I’ll try to be more understanding.”
He smiled back but his was different. His was sexy.
“You could. Or you could get pissed, stick up for yourself, get in my face, be a smartass and earn yourself a couple of orgasms.”
I felt my knees tingle in a way I knew they’d be weak if I was standing instead of sitting cross-legged, facing him on the couch.
I didn’t show this reaction. I shook my head like he was annoying and kept eating my wonton.
“Though,” he kept going, “after my dainty heiress went wild for me, we’ll see about you gettin’ orgasms on a more regular basis.”
I felt a tingle elsewhere at that and the tingle traveled north to my nipples when I caught the look in his eyes that told me how much he wanted to give that to me.
And how much he wanted me to give it back.
I liked that. I wanted more.
It was frightening but I couldn’t deny that, from the moment I saw him, I wanted it all from Mickey.