Pen Pal

22

We kiss until both of us are breathing hard and the little pulse of heat between my legs has grown into an ache. Then the guilt swamps me again, and I pull away, pressing my fingers to my lips.

Aidan searches my face. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

When I refuse to meet his eyes, he takes my chin in his hand and tilts my head up so I’m forced to look at him.

“What is it?”

My mouth has turned dry. I moisten my lips and swallow. “I’m feeling a bit…” I clear my throat. “Uncomfortable.”

He seems surprised. “With me?”

“With doing this in my house.”

After a brief pause, he says, “Okay.” Then he steps back, releasing me.

“Oh God. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“No, I get it.”

He can’t possibly get it, but I give him points for trying. “It’s just that it was very recent. My separation from my husband.” I clear my throat again. “And I keep expecting him to walk in the door at any minute. It’s just weird for me. I’m sorry.”

“You can stop apologizing,” he says softly. “I said it’s okay.”

Cringing, I wring my hands together. “I know, but I can tell it’s not, and now I feel like a dick.”

“You’re not a d**k. I’d kiss you again, but I don’t want to make it weirder for you than it already is. So here’s the deal: I’m gonna call my buddy Jake who owns a security company. He’s gonna come out and set you up with an alarm. In the meantime, I’ve got a meeting I need to get to, but after, I’m gonna get to work on that leak.”

He nods toward the kitchen and the buckets on the floor. “I won’t be able to start repairs until we get a break in the weather lasting more than a few days, but I’ll put up a tarp on the roof to stop more water from coming in and remove any wet insulation from the attic so you don’t get a mold problem. Okay?”

“Yes. Okay. Thank you. Oh, let me go get my checkbook—”

“One more f*****g word,” he cuts in, “and you earn yourself a spanking.”

Startled, I stare at him. There’s no smile on his face, no trace of humor.

He’s completely serious.

I say tentatively, “Can I ask a question?”

He nods.

“Is it the checkbook I shouldn’t be talking about or did you just want me to be quiet in general?”

He presses his lips together and folds his arms over his chest. Now I can tell he’s trying to keep a straight face. He’s also trying to be intimidating, and he’s pretty much failing at both things.

He says sternly, “What I meant is that I’m not taking your money.”

“But we agreed—”

“One more word,” he interrupts again, this time quite loudly.

Mirroring his posture, I fold my arms over his chest and stare him down. “I didn’t have s*x with you to get free roof repairs, Aidan.”

“No s**t, Kayla. I’m still not taking your money.”

“Is this one of those macho man ego things? Do you really think I’m being emasculating by expecting to pay you for your time and expertise?”

“Yes and yes.”

I say flatly, “That’s nuts.”

He unfolds his arms, leans down into my face, and stares into my eyes. “Thanks for sharing your opinion on the subject. That’s the last time you get to do it. Mention money to me again, and you know what you’ve got coming.”

When I only stand there staring at him, he prompts, “Acknowledge that you know what you’ve got coming.”

“Why?”

“It’s called consent.”

I say haughtily, “I don’t consent to a s******g over money.”

“Don’t mention it again, and you won’t get one.”

“Remember when I told you I liked it when I wasn’t being irritated?”

Ignoring that, he adds, “But if you do mention it again, I’m considering you warned and fully informed of the consequences, regardless of whether or not you claim not to want it.”

I make a screwy face. “I think your logic is flawed.”

“How nice for you. Doesn’t change a thing.” He turns on his heel and heads toward the front door.

“Where are you going? We’re in the middle of a conversation!”

Over his shoulder, he says, “Not anymore, we’re not.”

“Get back here right now or you’re the one who’ll get the damn s******g!”

Chuckling, he disappears out the front door.

An hour later, Jake the security guy shows up. He’s cut from the same cloth as Aidan: big, brawny, lumberjack-y. He even has forearm tattoos and a beard, too, though his is a lighter shade of brown and has a few streaks of silver in it. I let him in and show him around. We end up in my office.

“Piece of cake,” he says confidently. “Where do you want the smart hub?”

“I have no idea what that is.”

“It ties all your devices together and acts as the nerve center of your security system.”

When I stare at him blankly, he continues.

“We’re going to connect your alarm, security cameras, and doorbell camera to a wireless hub that controls everything and interfaces with your smart phone so you can do it remotely.”

Hub? Cameras? Remote control? I start to get nervous. “That sounds expensive.”

Jake grins knowingly. The bright pink piece of gum he’s chewing sticks out from between two molars. “Aidan said that if you mentioned money, I’m supposed to tell you that you know what happens.”

My face flames. I say acidly, “Did he now?”

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. Just doin’ my job here.”

His tone is light and there’s a distinct twinkle in his eye. I am so going to kill Aidan the next time I see him.

“How about if we just set up a basic security thingie where I, like, punch in a code to arm the alarm?”

Jake makes a face at me as if I just insulted his mother.

“Seriously, I don’t need cameras and all that other stuff. I just want an alarm to sound if someone breaks in.”

“But you should have cameras so if someone does break in, you got it on video. It won’t help the police very much if they can’t identify the perp.”

All this talk of perps and break-ins is starting to unsettle me. I say, “Maybe we should just forget the whole thing.”