* *
He couldn’t believe how good her hands felt. She almost seemed
afraid of hurting him. Her touch was like the softest feather. She
seemed to be exploring every inch of his body as she cleaned him.
“That feels so good,” he said softly.
* * * *
“Th…Thanks,” she stammered. “I’ve never washed anybody,
under the age of sixty, before.” Wow, way to kill the mood. Let’s just bring the image of me washing an old raisin!
Pulling her into his chest, he whispered into her hair, “Me either.”
Rainne felt a knot rise in her throat. Why was him acknowledging
that so important to her, she couldn’t know. It made her happy to
believe it, none the less, even if he was just saying that to be nice.
* * * *
Punk Rox Warrior
49
After finishing their shower, Rainne threw on her robe and
proceeded to make breakfast. She wasn’t really hungry, but history
had taught her to eat a big meal before her mom’s parties. Even if she
didn’t lose her appetite at the pretentiousness of the party itself, she never again wanted her mother to see her eat.
James entered the kitchen and sat at the table as she placed a stack
of blueberry pancakes in front of him.
“Dig in,” she chimed, bouncing back to the counter and retrieving
her own plate.
Sitting across from him, after last night and this morning,
was…weird. What should I say? Does he think the breakfast is some
sort of fat girl payment for sex? Does he realize that in fourteen
states, sex the night before then breakfast together the next morning make us common law married? Why can’t I get my brain to shut
down?
* * * *
“Stop thinking so hard,” he said, taking a sip of coffee. She is so adorable, probably racking her brain over unanswered questions. She
is so complex, her brain always churning, always wondering. It’s
fascinating to watch. “So what’s with the banquet?” he asked with a grin.
Clearing her throat, she flushed. “Well, it’s best to eat beforehand.
I either can’t recognize the food they serve, can’t pronounce it, or
can’t see it because it’s so small.” Grimacing, she took a bite and
chewed nervously.
Watching her, he knew there was something else. “Is that the only
reason?” he asked, tilting his head.
Averting her eyes from his, she murmured, “I don’t eat in front of
my mom.”
He was a master at reading people, repetitive patterns, body
language, and facial expressions. He could tell when someone was
50
Rachel Cron
holding something back or lying. It was obvious she didn’t want to
talk about it. She was already a bundle of nerves, so he decided not to
push the subject. “So what’s this party for anyway?”
She smiled. “Don’t ask me. My mom throws parties like other
people change their underwear.” Rolling her eyes, she continued, “My
mom’s friends, her employees, and investors will be there. Hopefully
we will be able to sneak out early.”
Rising up from his chair, James started clearing his dishes. “Why
is it so important that you be there?”
“Take your pick...She says it’s to show me off, but I suspect it’s to
suck me into her life. She knows I hate her lifestyle, the people, and
the excess. She doesn’t understand why I’m not clamoring to be a part
of it.” She followed suit with her dishes.
As he watched her fill the sink with water, James could tell there
was, again, something else. “And?” he urged.
Sighing regretfully, her shoulders slumped. “I think she’s trying to
marry me off to one of those spoiled, pampered, egotistical pieces of
shit she calls colleagues. She seems to think it’s important for me to
marry well. I told her that if I get married, I need it to be for love, not status. She said that love is overrated, that I was a fool. It sucks. She makes me mingle, and all the assholes line up to dance with me. It’s
awful. They’re not interested in me. They just want my mother’s
money.”
The sound of
He couldn’t believe how good her hands felt. She almost seemed
afraid of hurting him. Her touch was like the softest feather. She
seemed to be exploring every inch of his body as she cleaned him.
“That feels so good,” he said softly.
* * * *
“Th…Thanks,” she stammered. “I’ve never washed anybody,
under the age of sixty, before.” Wow, way to kill the mood. Let’s just bring the image of me washing an old raisin!
Pulling her into his chest, he whispered into her hair, “Me either.”
Rainne felt a knot rise in her throat. Why was him acknowledging
that so important to her, she couldn’t know. It made her happy to
believe it, none the less, even if he was just saying that to be nice.
* * * *
Punk Rox Warrior
49
After finishing their shower, Rainne threw on her robe and
proceeded to make breakfast. She wasn’t really hungry, but history
had taught her to eat a big meal before her mom’s parties. Even if she
didn’t lose her appetite at the pretentiousness of the party itself, she never again wanted her mother to see her eat.
James entered the kitchen and sat at the table as she placed a stack
of blueberry pancakes in front of him.
“Dig in,” she chimed, bouncing back to the counter and retrieving
her own plate.
Sitting across from him, after last night and this morning,
was…weird. What should I say? Does he think the breakfast is some
sort of fat girl payment for sex? Does he realize that in fourteen
states, sex the night before then breakfast together the next morning make us common law married? Why can’t I get my brain to shut
down?
* * * *
“Stop thinking so hard,” he said, taking a sip of coffee. She is so adorable, probably racking her brain over unanswered questions. She
is so complex, her brain always churning, always wondering. It’s
fascinating to watch. “So what’s with the banquet?” he asked with a grin.
Clearing her throat, she flushed. “Well, it’s best to eat beforehand.
I either can’t recognize the food they serve, can’t pronounce it, or
can’t see it because it’s so small.” Grimacing, she took a bite and
chewed nervously.
Watching her, he knew there was something else. “Is that the only
reason?” he asked, tilting his head.
Averting her eyes from his, she murmured, “I don’t eat in front of
my mom.”
He was a master at reading people, repetitive patterns, body
language, and facial expressions. He could tell when someone was
50
Rachel Cron
holding something back or lying. It was obvious she didn’t want to
talk about it. She was already a bundle of nerves, so he decided not to
push the subject. “So what’s this party for anyway?”
She smiled. “Don’t ask me. My mom throws parties like other
people change their underwear.” Rolling her eyes, she continued, “My
mom’s friends, her employees, and investors will be there. Hopefully
we will be able to sneak out early.”
Rising up from his chair, James started clearing his dishes. “Why
is it so important that you be there?”
“Take your pick...She says it’s to show me off, but I suspect it’s to
suck me into her life. She knows I hate her lifestyle, the people, and
the excess. She doesn’t understand why I’m not clamoring to be a part
of it.” She followed suit with her dishes.
As he watched her fill the sink with water, James could tell there
was, again, something else. “And?” he urged.
Sighing regretfully, her shoulders slumped. “I think she’s trying to
marry me off to one of those spoiled, pampered, egotistical pieces of
shit she calls colleagues. She seems to think it’s important for me to
marry well. I told her that if I get married, I need it to be for love, not status. She said that love is overrated, that I was a fool. It sucks. She makes me mingle, and all the assholes line up to dance with me. It’s
awful. They’re not interested in me. They just want my mother’s
money.”
The sound of
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