“Well, I am now. Since you keep chanting her name.”
She nodded. “Were you before?”
“Before when? Upstairs before?”
Her face fired up. “Um…yes.”
“No.” Emma hadn’t crossed his mind once. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. Obviously, Emma was his main point of reference, the only woman he’d slept with for a lot of years. But not in an obvious way…just in the way that she was always there somehow or another. Now that Cordelia had brought it up, though…well, she was smaller than Emma. More, er, energetic. Her hair was short, and Emma’s had been long.
Cordelia tugged the robe more tightly around her. “Cold?” Liam asked.
“No. Are you? Because your shirt is…missing.”
Liam bit down on a smile. “I’m fine.”
“Good.” Eyes back on the sugar bowl, which apparently was like the Rosetta Stone or something for all the attention she was giving it. “Am I the first woman you’ve…um…been with? Since Emma?”
“No.”
She nodded, pulled the robe tighter still, practically strangling herself with it.
“I had a thing with someone out in San Diego,” he found himself saying. “About a year after Emma died. Kind of a friends with benefits situation.”
“Right.”
He was losing patience. “Cordelia, have I terrified you or something? You seemed like you were having a pretty good time up there.”
“I was! I did! I just wonder about how you felt about it. Given, um…Emma.”
“I wasn’t thinking of Emma!” he barked, then lowered his voice. “You’re the one who’s like a dog with a damn bone.”
“Well, Liam, I don’t see how you can avoid it,” she said in a huffy voice.
“I’m a guy, Cordelia! I think about whatever’s in front of me.”
“You don’t have to yell at me, idiot,” she snapped. “You’re scaring my dog.” Her dog was lying on his back, jowls drooping, the paper from the crackers under his ear. “I’m sorry,” she continued, not sounding very sorry at all. “It’s just…I’ve never been with a widower. And I remember Emma and how…nice she was.”
Great. Now her eyes looked a little wet. Women. Extremely difficult. “She was nice. And I did love her.” He paused. “But I was thinking about you,” he said in a gentler voice.
“Really?”
Liam opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again. “Yes, Cordelia. As I said, I’m a guy. We’re very basic. You’re here, I like you, I’d like to be back in bed with you instead of in this freezing kitchen having this ridiculous conversation, but if you want to talk, fine. I think about Emma every day. She’s part of me. My child’s mother. Can’t forget her. I wasn’t comparing you, though. I was thinking of you. And that mouth of yours. I’m thinking of it right now.”
There. That shut her up. Her cheeks blossomed with pink once more, and she blinked a couple of times. “Oh,” she managed eventually.
“Speechless, huh?”
She grinned. Nodded.
Liam got out of his chair, stepped over the calflike dog and knelt down next to her. “Good.” He leaned in close and kissed those ripe, pink lips, earning a quick intake of breath as a reward. “Now, if it’s all right with you,” he murmured, inhaling the smell of her, “I’d like to take you back upstairs and get you out of this disgusting bathrobe. What do you say?” He pulled back and looked at her.
She was smiling. “Sounds like a plan, biker boy.”
LIAM JERKED AWAKE the next morning and glanced at the clock: 7:02. Sun streamed in through the windows, illuminating the rafters and a few cobwebs as well.
He had to get home; Nicole was due back at ten.
Cordelia was still sleeping, her hair standing up in odd little clumps, her lashes wispy on her cheeks. Elf-cute, there was really no other way to think of it. Her lips were slightly swollen, and he’d left a little beard burn on her neck. He’d have to shave first next time.
Next time. The thought made him pause.
Cordelia Osterhagen came from a nice family. Chances were high that she probably wanted to get married, have a couple kids, pick out a couch, the whole deal. All good things…just not with him.
Marriage hadn’t been hell or anything…but it hadn’t been easy. It wasn’t the circumstances, the unexpected pregnancy. Those were actually their happiest years, when Nicole was little. But from the very beginning, he could sense it, the long, slow fading as Emma’s heart slipped away a little further each year, as she fell out of love with the juvie mechanic who’d knocked her up.
Besides. There was Nicole to think of.
He got out of bed and pulled on his clothes in silence, then bent down and gave Cordelia a gentle shake. “Hey. I have to run. Nicole needs a ride.”
“Okay,” she said sleepily. Then she bolted awake, her head smacking his. “Ow! Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he said, rubbing the sore spot. “See you around?”
“Oh…sure.”
He knew that look. But aren’t we in something here? Will you call me? When will I see you again? Didn’t this mean something? He’d seen that look on Paige’s face in San Diego, and on the faces of a dozen girls back in the day, and now, seeing it on Cordelia’s, he… Well, shit.
She pulled the covers higher and looked away. The awkward silence filled the room like carbon monoxide. Liam sat on the edge of the bed and pulled on his boots. “Last night was great.”
“Yeah.” She blushed, and he felt an uncomfortable pull in his chest. When she’d opened the door and jumped him, come on. A guy didn’t just pass that up. Not when all the blood cheerfully fled from head to groin, rendering logical thought completely impossible. Then in the kitchen last night, he’d just wanted to…reassure her for some reason, even though she’d given him the perfect out, bringing up Emma and all.
“Cordelia, listen.”
“You’re not ready for a big relationship, you have a kid, you’re still adjusting, a fling would be fine, but no commitment.”
Wow. He smelled a trap. She didn’t look mad, or like she was about to burst into tears, but women were tricky. “Um…well, in some ways, yes.”
“Okay. See you around.” She flopped back down on the pillows and closed her eyes.
He stood there, suspicious. Maybe she was about to bury a knife between his shoulder blades. Or maybe he’d just really hurt her feelings. Maybe she really didn’t care if she ever saw him again. Or maybe…here was an odd thought…maybe she’d just used him for sex.
User’s manual—so handy. “You free on Sunday?” The words seem to fall out of his mouth without permission.She opened one eye. “Maybe.”
“Want to do something?”
Her eyes stayed closed. “Something fling-ish that doesn’t imply commitment?”
“Um…I get the feeling I’m being led to my doom. Can I take the fifth and just see you again?”
To his surprise, she laughed and sat up again, reached out and patted his knee. “Sure, biker boy. Now get out. I have to go to work.”
He hesitated until she gave him an ungentle shove with her foot, then left, somewhat confused, mildly suspicious and…huh. And kind of happy.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
“OMG. YOU SLEPT WITH him? Tell me everything. Every detail. Does he manscape?”
“What does that mean, Jon? I’m not gay, remember?” Posey smiled. She was feeling rather smug. And deeply satisfied. And still a little tingly. She’d slept with Liam Murphy (holy Elvis!) and he’d actually asked her out again, even if he’d been very clear on what he didn’t want. But men always said stuff like that…at first. Right? And sure, in some cases, they continued to say it. But something told her Liam was different.
“Manscaping means does he have hair on his back? Tell me no. Please.”
“No back hair. Tattoo on his shoulder, though. A Celtic knot or something.”
“A little cliché, but we’ll let it pass. Hi, Lorraine, would you be a saint and give me a little more coffee? It’s so good today.”
She and Jon were eating breakfast at Rooney’s, the tiny little breakfast place on Miner Street. Generally speaking, you’d have to wait an hour to get a table on Founders’ Day Weekend, but as Jon knew and was adored by all in the food industry, the beauty industry, the retail industry and the school system, he’d only had to wave to get them a table on the patio outside, as well as two cheese Danish, on the house.
“By the way,” Jon said, “I’m getting you a Keurig for your birthday so you can stop drinking that swill of yours. Now, back to the dirt. Shovel.”
“Oh, I love Keurigs! Thanks, Jon! Okay, dirt…” She took a bite of her omelet and chewed smugly, if a person could do that. “Well, I always had this nickname for Liam. God’s Gift. God’s gift to women, right?” She grinned at her brother-in-law. “And he is. It was worth the wait.”
“The two-decade wait?”
“It’s more like one and a half, but yes.”
“He looks like he’d be a great kisser. Is he? Think he’d kiss me, just so I could tell?”
“No, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t, and yes, he’s a great kisser, Jon. Like…legs shot out from under you kind of kissing.”
“Oh, hooray! Now I have something to picture when Henry’s at the hospital all night.” Jon took a long sip of his coffee, looking at her over the rim of the thick mug, his hazel eyes kind.
She knew that look. “What?”
“Nothing.”
“Something. You have reservations.”
Jon winced. “Well, okay, as your best friend—and brother-in-law—and cooking instructor—I have questions, let’s say.”
“Shoot.” She took another bite of the massive omelet, which didn’t taste quite as good as before.
“Back in high school, he was kind of a slut, right?”
She gave a half nod. “A bad boy. He took what was offered, let’s put it that way. Until he met Emma Tate, that is. The girl he ended up marrying.”
“And Emma…what was she like?”
“Oh, you know. Squeaky-clean, super nice. She’s the one who fixed me up for the prom.”
Jonathan’s eyebrows rose. “Ah. The prom. Where you had such fun?”
“My date stood me up. It happens.” She took a sip of coffee.
“It seems like more than that, since you still refuse to chaperone. Anyway, back to the Taming of the Bad Boy. He meets the princess, and they lived happily ever after until she dies. Is that right?”
“As far as I can tell.”
“Is he still—how did you put it?—taking what’s offered? Still a slut? Because I’ll beat him up if he is,” Jon said, and Posey smiled.
“Home-ec teacher takes on mechanic. I like it,” she said. “But no. I mean, I’ve seen women talking to him, but I think he’s pretty focused on his daughter these days.”
Jon nodded. “That’s what I’ve heard, too.” Jon had his thumb on the pulse, as a high-school teacher. “So, is this the real deal for you, Posey?”
Time for a mega-bite of home fries to stall. “Um…it’s all new. Just Wednesday night, you know?”
“But you already look like you’re in love.”
“Please,” she said, though she felt a telltale heat in her cheeks.
“Oh, dear,” Jon said.
“It’s just that…well, he’s not exactly a stranger, right?” Her brother-in-law nodded encouragingly. “I had the biggest crush on him.”
“Who wouldn’t?” Jon said kindly. “Just try to be careful. I mean, if he feels the same way, bliss. But if not, we’re back to the Dante situation.”
“I wasn’t in love with Dante,” Posey said. “I mean, I wouldn’t say I’m in love with…you know…the other one, either, but…”
But nothing. Since the moment she’d bumped into Liam in Guten Tag a month and a half ago, it had been impossible not to think about him. Even before last night, she’d felt a jolt of heat every time their paths crossed, every time she thought of him. She’d never been in love before, not really, unless you counted Ron, the Anderson Cooper fan. With Dante, she’d felt attraction, definitely, and she liked a lot of things about him, but the truth was, she hadn’t known him well enough to feel more than that.
But since yesterday morning, she’d been walking around as if she was filled with a buoyant, glowing warmth. Every flash of memory caused a surge of heat so delicious that twice she’d broken off midsentence, causing Elise to ask if she was okay. Even Gretchen had noticed at the restaurant yesterday. “Posey, what’s wrong? You’re all blotchy,” which of course caused Stacia to leap for a thermometer.
Yep. Felt a lot like love to her.
Jon chuckled. “Hello? Back to earth, sweets. Listen. I’m happy for you, hon, and I hope he deserves you. I never thought Dante Bellini was good enough for you. That pasta is like…well, okay, the food is amazing, and if you tell Ma I ate there, I’ll deny it with my last breath, but Dante Bellini is a poser.”
Posey put down her mug. “Speaking of Dante, I guess I should officially break up with him now,” she said in a low voice. “In case there was any…doubt.”