After all those months of circling each other, even now that we’d had sex, those feelings of wanting him, of liking him, had only intensified, not abated.
At the outset, I had thought that my crush on Boner was a fascination born of simple physical attraction and deeply engraved insecurities.
But I was wrong.
A need had grown inside me and taken hold, taken root, a need for him that was more like a calling. And his confidence in an us only pitched propane at that fire.
I brushed his cheek with my lips.
Overwhelming.
“I DON’T THINK I’ve ever liked popcorn this much. This is actually tasty.” Boner held the huge stainless steel bowl in his lap and shoved fluffy kernels in his mouth. We lounged on Rae’s living room sofa, watching television.
“It’s air-popped organic with butter and sea salt.”
His hand stilled over the bowl, a dark eyebrow raised. “I love it when you talk gourmet.”
I let out a laugh and handed him a fresh beer. “It’s hardly gourmet.”
“It’s light-years better than that microwave crap.”
“That microwave crap will kill you.”
He glanced at me, munching. “Have you always been into food?”
“My mom loved to cook, and that used to be our thing together, cooking and baking.” I tucked my legs underneath me and sank onto the sofa next to him. “And Rae is an amazing cook. She can’t stand over the stove for too long anymore, so she sits and gives me directions. She’s taught me a lot of her family recipes, and I like that, it’s important. I enjoy it. It’s a creative way to unwind and spend time with someone, and in the end, you’re left with something yummy to eat.”
Our attention went back to the television.
He stroked my thigh. “I like binge-watching TV with you.”
“Because I feed you?”
“Yeah, that, too, but it’s nice. Just hanging here—calm and quiet, you and me. Rae and Becs in the next room all snug. Tania somewhere else.”
I giggled.
“See? You like it, too, Firefly.”
“I never would’ve thought that you would enjoy this sort of thing—watching television with a girl on a couch with her kid and a parental figure in the next room.”
“Baby, going out with the boys and doing what we usually do gets to be just that—the usual—after a while.”
“You’ve had girlfriends you’ve spent time with though, right?”
“Yeah, but—”
“But not like this?”
My mind went to Mindy at the coffee shop, Mindy at Pete’s. Perfect body, super confident, stripper pole-pro Mindy. She’d probably invite Boner over to her house and open the door, naked and slathered with whipped cream and strawberry syrup. She wouldn’t have made him popcorn and snuggled up to him on the sofa to watch an entire season of The Red Road.
He tossed more popcorn into his mouth. “Not like this, no.”
And there you go.
I shifted on the sofa, unbuckling my legs, pressing my bare feet into the edge of the coffee table. Of course, this was different for him. This was nice plus comfy plus easy plus no frills, which equaled boring.
He pressed into me, a hand wrapping around my thigh. “I like this. This is way better. Spending time with my woman like this, in the comforts of home.”
Great, he’d sown his wild oats, and now, he was with me—the comforts of home.
That was me all right. Here, in my casual light-blue sundress and flip-flops, my hair up in a ponytail, a dash of mascara and whatever had been left of my eyeliner pencil I’d rushed to apply just before he’d arrived two hours ago.
I wiggled my dark purple–painted toes on the coffee table. At least I’d gotten a manicure, a pedicure, and had my eyebrows threaded with Grace and Tania this morning. That was saying something. I’d been so proud of getting my ass in gear for that, so together.
Oh, brother.
Mindy probably had a regular weekly appointment with her mani-pedi-waxing lady.
I knew what the Mindys of the world were like up close. I’d been with Catch as his old lady for almost three years. I’d lived with the club girls, the hanger-on chicks, the other old ladies. You had to be on your A game at all times to hold on to your man and keep the wolves at bay. Being with Catch—rather, trying to be with Catch—had taught me that.
Yes, Boner was different—older, more mature (mature, period!), definitely wiser, incredibly sexy but in a darker way than Catch. But like Catch, he was a very, very attractive man with power at his MC.
Although Boner was a man in his mid-forties and a senior member of his club, he was definitely not some old coot drinking in the corner twenty-four hours a day and riding only when he absolutely had to and only if his arthritis wasn’t acting up. Something must be in the water in Meager because even Willy, the eldest member of the club, was incredibly fit, a carpenter by trade who kept up his own business on the side. He’d consistently join in on runs, and he always had a younger woman on his lap.