Christmas 2011 Trio A. Кейт Хьюит
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answered on the second ring.
“What are you doing?” he asked, keeping his voice low.
“Roy, it’s six o’clock in the morning. I’m getting ready for school. What do you suppose I’m doing?”
“I was hoping you were thinking of me.” He straddled a kitchen chair, grabbing his coffee mug. The best Colombian coffee and conversation with Julie—not a bad way to start his day.
“I was thinking of you,” she admitted reluctantly.
“Will you have dinner with me tonight?”
“I’ve got a game.”
“After the game?”
“I’d love to.”
His heart soared at her excitement. Then again, it could be an echo of his own joy. He shook his head. This was crazy. He knew better than to let himself be swayed by feelings, especially feelings for a woman. Hadn’t he learned that by now? Yet here he was, falling head over heels for Julie and he was doing it with his eyes wide open. A rational voice in his mind urged him to resist before he made another costly mistake. But a louder and more persistent voice promised him Julie was different….
“Where do you want to go?” he asked.
“Do we have to go anywhere?” she asked. “Dad’s meeting some friends tonight. I can cook.”
“After teaching all day and coaching a soccer game, you won’t feel like cooking. Let me take you out.”
“Nonsense. I’ll start a stew in the Crock-Pot and it’ll be ready when I get home from school.”
Roy hadn’t had regular home-cooked meals since he was a teenager. His mother, no matter how busy she was, had insisted on dinners together as a family. More often than not, his father had business to attend to, but Roy had always eaten with his mother, at least until he left for college in Seattle.
“Unless you don’t want stew? I just thought it was a great wintertime meal and—”
“Your stew’s wonderful,” he assured her. She could serve dill pickles and he wouldn’t have cared. All Roy wanted was to spend time with Julie. He had no idea where this was going and for the moment contented himself with the thrill of the ride.
They agreed to meet at her house at seven. Roy found himself watching the clock all day. The morning seemed to crawl by, and his mind wasn’t on his various meetings or the decisions he had to make. Even Ms. Johnson commented.
Roy brushed away her concern. He didn’t admit it was Julie Wilcoff who occupied his thoughts, but he suspected Ms. Johnson had guessed as much.
That evening, at one minute to seven, Roy stood on Julie’s front porch, clutching a bottle of excellent wine, and rang the doorbell. She answered immediately, her hair still wet from the shower. She’d combed it away from her face, and he noticed again how lovely she was, even without makeup. Her skin was smooth and healthy, her eyes bright, and her lips, with only the slightest color, looked as if they ached to be kissed. He knew he ached to kiss her. She wore slacks and a green sweater, and just seeing her turned his blood to steam. This was what he’d been fantasizing about all day, what he’d wanted from the moment he’d climbed out of bed that morning.
“You’re right on time,” she said, reaching for his free hand. With a slight tug she brought him into the house.
Roy saw that he’d been standing on the porch like a schoolboy, simply staring at her. He knew he should wait before he kissed her, but he couldn’t stop himself. He set the wine on a hallway table crowded with gloves and unopened mail and, without removing his coat, brought her into his arms.
Julie went to him willingly and when their lips met, it was the first time that day he’d felt completely relaxed. She melted against him and he felt the soft fullness of her breasts against his chest. His head swam. The sensation their kisses evoked in him nearly sent him over the edge.
After several minutes, Julie pulled her mouth from his. “I … I’ve got bread under the broiler.”
Only then did Roy smell the burning bread. He released her and, because his knees felt weak, walked into the living room and sat down. Shrugging off his coat, he struggled to regain his equilibrium. A minute later, he carried his overcoat to the hall closet and collected the wine, which he placed on the coffee table.
Julie returned just as he sat down again. “Thankfully I picked up two loaves,” she said. Offering him a shy smile, she started to walk past him to the chair opposite his.
Roy grabbed her hand, weaving his fingers through hers. “I want to talk.”
“All right.” Her dark eyes were solemn.
He drew her into his lap and resumed the kissing they’d begun in the hallway. Cradling her, he slipped his hand beneath her sweater and groaned as he encountered her breasts. His kisses turned greedy and urgent and—
A loud ding startled him and he broke off the kiss.
“That’s the oven timer,” Julie explained, and gazed at him, her eyes warm. “Don’t let it interrupt you.” She frowned playfully. “On the other hand, I don’t want to burn my last loaf of bread.” She slid off his lap and hurried to the kitchen. “Hold that kiss—I mean thought,” she called over her shoulder.
Roy grinned when she came back and returned to her position on his lap. “I was serious about wanting to talk,” he said after a quick kiss.
“I can see that,” she teased.
“The problem is, you’re way too tempting.”
She rolled her eyes, but the smile didn’t leave her lips. “What do you want to talk about?”
“I can’t think when we’re this close.”
“Would you like me to move?”
“No … yes.”
She slid off his lap a second time and sat on the sofa across from him.
“How long do you intend to live with your father?” he asked, leaning forward.
The question appeared to surprise her. “I … I was thinking of renting an apartment after the first of the year.”
“Don’t,” he said.
Her eyes narrowed. “Why not? Dad needs to make his own life now and—”
“Move in with me.” He hadn’t broached the subject with much finesse, but he saw no reason to wait.
Julie didn’t answer and her silence unnerved him.
“I take it you’re not looking for a roommate to share expenses,” she finally said in what was presumably an effort at humor.
“We both know what I’m asking.”
“Yes … well.” She took a breath and then slowly exhaled. “We … only met a few weeks ago.”
“We know how we feel—what we want.”
She lowered her gaze rather than confess the truth.
“Julie,” he said, “we’re adults.”
Slowly she raised her eyes to meet his, and he read her indecision. Hoping to persuade her, he stood up and crossed to the sofa, sitting beside her. Clasping Julie’s hands, he brushed his mouth over hers. “We’d be good together,” he whispered.
“I think so, too.”
“Then why the hesitation?”
She shook her head.
“Come on,” he urged. “Tell me.”
“I’d hate to disappoint my father—I don’t know how he’d feel about this.”
Roy wanted to remind