Johnny wasn’t done.
“Eat dinner beside you knowin’ you can’t put on your torn, useless fucking panties and I’ll keep them in my pocket while you eat steak that isn’t half as good as the one I made you, sitting beside me feeling thoroughly fucked.”
“Johnny,” I breathed, not right then feeling thoroughly fucked, alas, but definitely suddenly thoroughly wet.
“I thought I’d give it some time and come back, build something different with you, but I’m not thinking this friend thing is gonna work, Iz.”
“Please don’t say that,” I begged.
His forehead came to mine, one hand went high on the wall beside me and his other hand slid down my side over the ruched, soft, stretchy white fabric of my dress that skimmed my figure from neck to knee, had no sleeves and even I had wondered if it was too sexy to wear to work (guess I had my answer).
“He comes back, you call the cops then your next call is me,” he ordered.
“I can’t promise that. Charlie already made me promise my next call would be him.”
“Then you call this Charlie guy and then you call me.”
“He won’t come back, Johnny,” I assured.
“You call the cops, Charlie and me. Say it, Izzy.”
I stared up close into his eyes.
“I call the cops, Charlie then you, Johnny.”
He didn’t move.
I didn’t either.
But eventually my mouth did.
“Is she back?”
“Oh no. Hell no.” His forehead rolled on mine as he underlined a negative I thought I understood, but when he went on I would find I did not. “She doesn’t get this. She doesn’t get us. We’ve talked about her all we’re ever gonna talk about her. She doesn’t get to be a part of whatever it is that’s gonna be the me and you we become.”
My breath caught.
What did that mean?
“How’re the dogs?” he asked.
“They’re good,” I forced out.
“The horses?”
“Good.”
“Wesley still singing?”
He was killing me.
I nodded.
“Good, baby,” he whispered, his gaze no longer focused on mine.
It had dropped to my mouth.
Oh God, he was going to kiss me.
Oh God, I was going to kiss him!
This couldn’t happen.
I wanted it, boy did I want it.
But it took a huge effort of will to survive it ending after two breakfasts, two dinners, one telephone conversation, one text exchange and lots of sex.
If there was kissing, more sex or more anything like that, I might not.
We needed to be friends.
We could not be lovers.
“Oh shit, son, sorry.” Both our heads turned (and I will note they did this without our foreheads disconnecting) to see Dave walking backward, hands up. “Could see you were shaken up at gettin’ that news about Izzy. Margot could too. She sent me out to check on you but now I’ve done that and you two look like you’re, um . . . good. You, uh . . . just get back to what you were doing.”
Johnny made another noise, kind of like his subdued roar of earlier, but this one was not indication of enraged fury but instead indication of enraged frustration.
After making it, he lifted his forehead from mine and called, “We’re coming back in, Dave. Tell Margot it’s good and I hope you all ordered the mushrooms.”
“Got you a beer, boy, mushrooms ordered, just take your time,” Dave replied, moving sprightly back to the front doors and through them.
There was a couple standing outside the doors, both looking our way.
“Hey, uh . . . Johnny,” the man called.
“Trev,” Johnny returned and it sounded like a grunt, a loud one that carried, but a grunt nonetheless.
The woman Trev was with gave a hesitant wave.
Johnny ignored her.
I waved hesitantly back.
That got me a hesitant smile.
I hesitantly smiled back.
“Babe,” Johnny clipped.
I looked back to him to see that he might have lifted his forehead but he was still close.
“That’s Francine and she’s the biggest mouth in Matlock,” he shared.
“Oh dear,” I murmured.
“Yeah,” he agreed. “She’s good people but good people with a big damned mouth.”
“Hmm,” I mumbled not wanting to be the talk of the town linked with Johnny when Shandra came back (if she wasn’t already).
“I’m thinking we need another conversation about where shit’s at with us,” he declared.
Oh my.
“Johnny, it’s the man you are to be protective but don’t let what happened with Kent color where we—”
“Kent is whatever the fuck Kent is. That dress is why we need another conversation.”
It really should be noted that I liked how much he liked my dress.
Even noted, I shouldn’t and furthermore, couldn’t.
I needed to tell him where I was with this.
“I’m not sure I can do just sex,” I whispered.
“Right,” he muttered.
I kept whispering. “I could do just friends.”
“Right,” he repeated.
“So maybe you can unpin me from the wall and we can go have dinner with Margot and Dave,” I suggested.
His hand that was resting on my hip slid up and I thought it would slide up but it only got to my waist before he squeezed in, let me go and moved away.
I guessed he was going to make a stab at being friends.
That devastated me.
It shouldn’t.
That didn’t change the fact that it did.
But he caught my hand and held it as he led me back to the table, and I found it odd as just friends that Johnny held my hand and when we were lovers, he hadn’t.
He stood solicitous to the side as he let me scoot in and he followed me immediately, but Margot wasn’t wasting a second.
“Do you have the situation with this unsavory ex-boyfriend of Izzy’s in hand, Johnathon?”
“It’s in hand, Margot. Izzy has it sorted and we have an arrangement if something comes up. So you can chill,” Johnny replied.
Her irate eyes turned to me. “I cannot tell you the number of times I’ve shared with Johnathon and his brother Tobias that I have not, do not, and never will chill. If a woman is upset they should listen and assure her and do whatever they can to sort the situation that’s troubling her. Not simply tell her to chill.”
“I do kind of have it sorted, Margot,” I shared.
“Kind of is not sorted, Eliza,” she retorted in a tone that made me fight back laughter, because she sounded like she’d known me all my life, not maybe twenty minutes, and she had the right to boss me around.
“Well, Kent’s proved to be a guy who does what he’s going to do but now I’m calling Johnny should he do more of it, so I think I’ll be all right, don’t you?” I assured her, not adding the cops and Charlie because I got the impression she thought Johnny could handle just about anything and that would help her to chill.
“Well then,” she huffed, reaching to her martini glass that was nearly frosted the liquid was so chilled and had three big fat olives in it, making me wish I wasn’t driving so I could have a martini. In that moment I sure the heck needed one. “I see it’s actually sorted so fine.”
“Is that vodka or gin?” I asked, reaching for my wine.
“Vodka,” she answered.