Just a Number (16 page)

What he really wants to know is if I’m going home with my fifty-year-old boyfriend. I can read between the lines when everything is bold and underlined.

I laugh. “Yes, Dad, I’m coming home for Christmas. Who else is going to cook that big feast?”

Dad snickers in response. “Good to hear. I was thinking of inviting Owen, too. Maybe even have his sister and her husband come to the Christmas Eve get-together. What do you think?”

I’m successful in holding back a squeal of excitement—barely. Christmas with Owen? While this is hardly the first time we’ve spent the holidays together, this will be the first time we’ve spent the holidays
together.
What makes this especially funny to me is that Dad seemed a little concerned that I’d be spending Christmas with the much-older guy I’m seeing and has now, inadvertently, offered to make this happen.

“I think that’s a wonderful idea.” Just then, the front door opens, and I see Owen appear. He sees I’m on the phone and simply waves, not wanting to interrupt. He enters the living room and leans down to kiss me. When I mouth that it’s my dad on the phone, he turns tail and heads into the bedroom like a bat out of hell.

“Okay, well I’ll do that, then,” Dad says. “Enjoy your show. I’ll call you next week.”

“Sounds good,” I reply. “Love you, Dad.”

“Love you, too, Ames.”

After I hang up the phone, I un-pause the TV and get caught right back up in my show. Owen appears from the bedroom, having traded his sexy-ass suit for even sexier jeans and a t-shirt that hugs his upper body. He grabs the pizza from where he dropped it on the kitchen island between the living room and kitchen, and I clear a spot on the coffee table for it. When I open it up, I see it’s a ham and mushroom pizza. It’s been my favorite for as long as I can remember.

He sits behind me on the couch and leans forward as I tilt my head back between his legs, and he gives me this awkward-but-kind-of-sexy upside down kiss. “How was your day?”

“Good,” I reply. “I was trying to do a bit of homework, but then I got distracted by the TV.”

Owen glances up, his eyebrows rising, and when I look, I see two of the lead characters having sex. Perhaps I should have thought my programming choice through a little better.

“What are you watching?”

“
Game of Thrones
?” I don’t know why it came out as a question, but it did.

Owen’s shock seems to disappear, and he settles back into the couch. “Oh, I’ve heard this is really good.”

I’m just about to tell him that it is, and that we could start from season one if he wants to watch it from the beginning, when his house phone rings from the end table next to him. Seriousness returns to the room when he looks at who’s calling. “It’s your dad,” he tells me, and I take a bite of pizza while he takes the call.

“Hey, Al,” he greets, knowing my dad hates that nickname. “What’s up?”

While I can’t hear what my father says, I know he’s probably admonishing Owen for calling him “Al,” and I cover my mouth to stifle any laughter while Owen nudges my ribs with his foot.

“Oh, nothing,” Owen says in response to something Dad must have asked him. “Just having some pizza and watching some show called
Game of Thrones.
”

I inhale sharply, turning around with wide eyes and shaking my head vigorously. Owen watches me, confused, but when his eyes widen, I know that he understands…because my father has just told him that
I’m
watching
Game of Thrones
and was having pizza for dinner. This isn’t good.

“Oh, yeah?” he says, his voice only slightly strained. “Small world, huh?”

I hold my breath, unable to even begin to figure out how we’re going to get out of this mess.

It isn’t until Owen relaxes back into his seat on the couch that I expel the breath, my vision darkening slightly around the edges and my head feeling light. Relieved that we were able to avoid this from happening
again
, I stand up and head to the kitchen. I grab a bottle of wine from the rack and go through several cupboards until I find two glasses. When I return to the living room, I overhear Owen agreeing to Dad’s invitation to Christmas at his place.

“Christmas in Oregon sounds great,” he says, smiling at me as I fill the two glasses and hand him one. He sets it on the table next to him and grabs my wrist, pulling me onto his lap. “I look forward to it.”

I hear Dad say something, but I can’t quite make it out, so when Owen looks at me, his blue eyes glinting with mild humor, I eye him curiously.

“Yeah, I could see if Amy wants to tag along.” He smirks, and I find it hard to resist the urge to run my fingers through his hair. “Okay… Sounds good, Alan. I’ll talk to you soon. Bye.”

After making sure the phone is off, he sets it down on the table next to his wine and wraps his arms around my waist. “Well, I almost fucked that up…again.”

“Yeah, well I guess it’s probably fortunate for us we’re not the only two people on the planet having pizza and watching this smutfest tonight,” I tease, still dragging my fingers over his scalp. “So…” I tug on his hair lightly as I straddle his hips and grab his wine glass, taking a sip. “Is there something you wanted to ask me?”

Smiling, Owen takes the glass from me, has a drink, and sets it back in its spot before ensnaring my hips in his hands. “Amelia Michaels,” he begins, tilting his face up until our lips lightly brush. “Will you ride me to Portland?”

My loud laugh echoes through his condo, and I swat his chest gently. “That’s horrible!” I exclaim.

Owen pretends to look horrified and embarrassed. “I can’t believe I just said that. Obviously I meant to ask if you’d ride
with
me to Portland. What was I thinking?” Mock shame laces every single word, and I shake my head at him.

“You’re incorrigible,” I tell him, narrowing my eyes and leaning in to kiss him softly. “But my answer is yes, I’d be happy to hitch a ride with you.” He smiles, and I lean over until my lips brush the shell of his ear. “I’d also be more than happy to ride you there, too.”

And just like that, Owen’s lips capture mine in a kiss so passionate, I’m surprised it doesn’t burn down the building, and we proceed to make love right there on his couch. It’s nice that we seem to have gone back to the way things were before in some areas, while in others our relationship has definitely evolved into something I can see surviving the trials I know lie ahead for us. My feelings for him run deeper than they have for anyone else, and, while I know it’s crazy-soon, and not what either of us had expected when we first embarked on this little adventure, but I’m fairly certain I’m starting to fall for him.

14. Deck the Halls

O
ver the next few weeks, Amelia and I prepare for Christmas at Alan’s. There are certain rules that we have to set between us in order to keep our relationship under wraps. Yes, I feel awful plotting to keep something that makes me this deliriously happy from my lifelong friend, but I know—we both do—that it’s for the best. He won’t understand right away, and neither of us wants to upset him this close to the holidays. I am confident that his desire to see his little girl happy will eventually win out over the initial urge to be upset about this, but it’ll take time to get there. And we’ll give him as much time as he needs.

Pretending like nothing is going on between us will be difficult, but I’m confident we will succeed. I think I worry most because whenever we’re in the room together, it feels as though the air is charged with this unavoidable energy and desire for one another, and everything except the two of us seems to just slip away. What if others pick up on this or we slip up at some point?

Realizing this, and in hopes of keeping that from happening, rule number one is to try to keep as much distance between us as possible without it seeming unnatural. Amelia and I have always been close before embarking on this relationship, so if we avoid each other entirely, that’s sure to raise a suspicious eyebrow or two, as well.

You see the dilemma? Get too close and chummy, and risk people suspecting we’re sleeping together. Avoid each other entirely, and
also
risk people suspecting we’re sleeping together.

Rule number two—which kind of goes hand-in-hand with rule number one: no sex. Since we’ll both be staying under her father’s roof, and he usually has a few days off around Christmas—barring any emergencies that demand he go in to work—it’d be too risky. In fact, we’re lucky we didn’t get caught at Thanksgiving—though there was that close call the day that Gretchen showed up where Alan almost caught me with my hands up his daughter’s shirt.

We’re grown–ups, though. We can abstain for a few days. I’m sure of it… Though, if I’m being entirely honest, we haven’t really been able to do this successfully since we got together. Even the weekend when Alan showed up, the result of us not being together those three days was an explosion of sexual frustration as soon as Amelia touched me. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing; we’d just have to be careful to keep that sexual tension in check until we’re sure it’s safe.

Which circles right back up to rule number one: keeping our distance without being too damn obvious.

This roundabout way of thinking makes my head spin, and I come to realize that this is going to be a lot more difficult than we’d originally thought. But not impossible.

I arrive at Amelia’s apartment at nine in the morning on Christmas Eve. Originally, I’d wanted to leave the day before, but wound up having a few things to do at work, which kept me later. This means we didn’t get around to getting each other out of our systems (repeatedly) like we’d planned, if you know what I mean. We’d figured that if we had one last really good romp in the sack before heading to Oregon that we’d be able to follow our carefully laid out rules a little better. That plan was shot to hell the minute I called to tell Amelia I wouldn’t be coming over.

There’s rustling on the other side of the door when I give a complimentary knock before letting myself in. Amelia is standing at the foot of her bed, packing the last of her things when she looks over her shoulder and grins.

“Hey,” I greet, closing the door behind me. “You ready?”

She brings her bag over and drops it next to our feet and wraps her arms around my neck. Hey, we’re not breaking any rules; the “no touching” doesn’t take effect until we pass that “Welcome to Portland” sign. I’ll take full advantage up until I absolutely have to stop.

“Just finished,” she informs me, tilting her head back and standing on her toes for a kiss.

Unable to resist, I pull her close, my arms circling her slender waist as I appease her silent request by gently pressing my lips to hers. “How was your night?”

She pushes her lower lip out into a playful pout and sighs. “Lonely… But things are starting to look up.”

I laugh lightly as she presses her lips to my neck, working her way up and along my jaw. “Well, if we don’t head out now, there’ll be a hell of a lot more things ‘looking up.’”

As if she’s trying to kill me, she nibbles on my ear lobe. “Who says that’s not on my itinerary?”

“Amelia.” My voice is low and gruff, a warning that I’m on the verge of losing control. Instead of worrying her, I can see she takes delight in her triumph. “We really don’t have time.”

“Just give me three minutes,” she murmurs. “I promise it’ll be the best three minutes of your life…so far.” And, with that, I lock the deadbolt behind my back before I grab her ass and lift her off the ground so her feet dangle, carrying her to the bed.

Of course, three minutes turns into thirty awfully quick, but neither one of us seem too saddened by the delay. We’re too caught up in each other to really care, quite honestly, and we lose all sense of time as my hands explore her skin. My lips and teeth follow their path over her supple body as I strip both of us naked and take her in almost every way imaginable. Once both of us are satiated for the moment and breathing heavily through the wake of our orgasms, we hop in the shower. Naturally, this brings on a round of hot and steamy shower sex where I press Amelia against the cool tile wall and wrap her legs tightly around my waist as I thrust into her until she’s screaming my name. Say goodbye to another thirty minutes on the clock

If we keep this up, we won’t be arriving at Alan’s until sometime late tonight. This means we’d miss the annual Christmas Eve party, and I’d hate to risk that considering he’s been hosting them for as long as either of us can remember.

We get dressed and head down to the car after peeling ourselves away from each other. I wish I could say this was merely a figure of speech, but considering we’d just spent the last hour with our sweaty bodies pressed so tightly together that not even a breeze could pass between us, I’d say it’s a fairly accurate description.