Eileen Slovak

Chapter Forty-three: Best Laid Plans

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and locales are products of the author’s imagination. They are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is coincidental. Copyright © 2024 by Eileen Slovak.

Scarlet

Sunday Morning, I wake abruptly, sitting bolt upright with a panicked feeling in my gut. Scott lays sleeping soundly next to me. What did I do? I can’t even blame the wine; we didn’t drink that much.

I slip out of the bed and put on an over-sized T-shirt. Slinking into the kitchen, I make coffee, determining an escape strategy. Scooping coffee into the filter, I analyze everything I said, everything I did last night. Second date sex. This is so not according to plan. He’s not even here on a permanent basis. He said so himself. Maybe that’s why I did it. No strings. While the coffee brews, I stand in the doorway of the bedroom watching him sleep. He looks like a Greek God who fell from the sky and landed smack dab in the middle of my 300 thread count sheets. Suddenly the room feels suffocating and small. I’m having trouble breathing.

      “Good morning,” he stretches, reaching for me sleepily. He opens one eye when he realizes I’m not there.

      “Morning. Did I mention I have this work thing today? I really have to get going,” I say looking at my watch-less wrist. “Thanks again for dinner, for…everything.” It’s like I’m a teenager again after my first time. I’m a complete idiot.

      “Wow Scarlet, you work on Sundays? That’s dedication,” he says through a yawn. “I’m impressed.” He leans up on a deliciously bent arm looking at me. The lower half of his body is tucked under the white sheet. Staring at his abs, his biceps, I completely lose my train of thought.

      “Oh, that’s right, Sunday. Jesus, I’m late for mass! Seriously!”

      “Right, sounds like you need it, too. So, this latest excuse is the truth as opposed to before when you were trying to get rid of me?”  He asks, raising one eyebrow.

      I feel my face flush.

      “No, not at all. Take your time. How rude of me! Listen, I’m jumping in the shower. There’s coffee in the pot, please help yourself. The cream is in the fridge, there’s sugar on the counter next to the cups.”

      “Thanks. I drink mine black.”

      I walk backwards toward the bathroom, before disappearing behind the door.

      “So, I’d like to make you dinner tonight!” He shouts through the door. “If you’re willing to brave my cooking. How does seven o’clock sound?”

      “Tonight?” I call out over the running water. “You know, I’m not sure. I’ll check my calendar first, then get back to you? I’ll call you, okay?”

      “Sure, no problem,” he says, fully aware I’m giving him the bums rush.

      “Just let me know,” he says, not making it easy.

      “Right, well, thank you, again!” I call from the shower. Thank you? What am I saying?

      He’s at the bathroom door, easing it all the way open. “Would you mind if I get cleaned up first, before you toss me out on my backside?”

      “No, not at all! There are fresh towels in the linen closet. I’ll only be another minute.”

      Without waiting for a response, he steps into the shower. When I start to move my mouth in protest, he slides his hand through my wet hair covering my mouth with his. Hot water sprays my face but I barely even feel it, only his body pressed against mine, slick and wet. A rush of warmth spreads through me down to my fingertips, then to my toes. I go limp in his grasp, close my eyes wrapping myself around him in sweet surrender.

      A half hour later, I’m lying on my bed, draped in a towel. Along with my coffee, I’m eating Snickerdoodles straight from the tin.

      “I’m staying at the Providence Residence Inn, room 214. I left my card on your nightstand. See you tonight,” he says leaning down, kissing me, then taking a handful of cookies.

      Cocky bastard, I think as he closes my front door behind him. He’s right. I’ll be there. I won’t be able to think about anything else until then.