Handy for you, p.12
Handy for You, page 12
His reel ticked over as he brought his line in for another cast as the kids’ chattering returned and canoes and kayaks glided over the water. He wondered what Kari was sketching and even if she would share it with him. Mia flat-out refused to show her poetry to him and he swallowed his pride and respected her decision even if his curiosity nearly ate him alive.
He smiled as he cocked his arm back and cast again. They were a lot alike, Mia and Kari.
I like her. You should date her.
Cheeky little Mia. Pushing at him even when she had no idea she was doing anything at all.
Rob continued to cast, surprised at one point when something tugged at his line, then unsurprised again when his hook came up empty. Could be anything or nothing. Time went away. That was the point of fishing, as far as he was concerned. It was a form of meditation. Like painting a wall. A repetitive motion, breathing steadily, watching what unfolded in front of him. Color spreading across sheetrock, the sun traveling across the sky.
“Ahem.” The voice at his elbow made his arm jerk up against unexpected resistance. Turning his surprised gaze back to the tense line and the bowed rod, he tugged again, expecting a dead weight that would tell him he’d “caught” a branch, a root, or piece of garbage.
The line tugged back, a sure indicator that whatever he had was not mere dead weight. “Holy crap. I’ve actually caught something.”
“Holy carp, you mean?” Kari’s voice sounded amused, but he was too wrapped up in reeling the fish—yes, he was sure it was a fish now—to do anything other than huff a distracted laugh. The fish jumped then, a bright splash of water and coiling of muscle sheathed in iridescent scales. Rob laughed, reeling the tired fish in.
“Hey buddy. I’m sorry. I never even meant to hook you,” he murmured to the glistening animal, its sides heaving, gills gaping. Releasing the hook from the fish’s cheek, he lowered it back into the water, hovering his hand beneath the fish’s body until it revived and darted away with an angry flick of its tail.
Rob stood, shaking water from his hands, to see Kari curled around her sketch pad, eyebrows drawn together, pencil moving with a furious speed. “Can I see?” he asked.
“One minute,” she said, her teeth biting down on the corner of her lower lip. The action was unconscious and sexy as hell. He wanted to bite that lip, suck it into his mouth and release it slowly. Would she moan? Or was she the silent type? Would he have to interpret her reactions from tiny cues?
Somehow, he thought that was the way Kari would be in the bedroom. The thought made his breath shallow and his throat tight.
Oh, he had no business thinking those thoughts.
Why not? His inner demon prompted.
Because he’d determined he was no good at relationships.
But the woman he’d spent the last couple weekends who was starting to turn her sketch pad for him to examine, her eyes a little shy and maybe a little proud, might be giving the lie to that theory. He turned the idea over in his mind, forcing himself to think about the thoughts he always avoided. He did have good platonic relationships. He had one now with Kari. But those breakups had been so explosive. So hurtful. Maybe he was just afraid of being hurt. Of hurting Kari. Both ideas were awful. He looked at the pad. With just a few strokes, she had caught the moment where the fish came out of the water, swinging toward his outstretched hand. His face was surprised, mouth open slightly. Or maybe that was just because he had spoken to the fish as he took it in.
“You’re really good,” he said.
“Thanks.” She ducked her head, her fine hair falling across her cheeks, veiling her face.
“That can’t be all you did.” He wanted to take the pad from her hands, to leaf through her work and linger over it, but he wouldn’t be so presumptuous.
“No, it isn’t.” She flipped a page back and handed him the pad.
Kari didn’t look at the sketch. Instead, she looked at Rob’s face as his gaze swept over it. His eyes scanned the page, taking in the whole scene: the lake, the heron overhead, a kayak in the distance, the sweep of green grass down to the water. And then his gaze sharpened. He looked at her, his eyes smiling, lines fanning out from the corners.
“You drew Mia there with me.”
She nodded. She had drawn a young version of Mia, the little girl as she was in some of the photographs in Rob’s living room standing beside him, tiny hands holding a fishing rod, a miniature duplicate of her father.
“She’s…she’s always with you. So it seemed right somehow.”
“Always with me?” His brows drew together.
“You always talk about her. She’s always present in your mind.”
His mouth twisted in a sheepish smile and he looked back at the drawing in his hand. “Sorry.”
“No, don’t apologize. It’s sweet. Your relationship is so nice. I miss my dad. We had a different way between us, but I miss him. I like seeing the two of you together.” Her father had been a quiet, shy man—pretty much the opposite of gregarious Rob. But he’d supported her the way Rob supported Mia. She always knew he loved her.
“Nice of you to say.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Can I buy this from you?” Rob looked from the pad to her face, his expression eager.
“What?”
“Pay you money. So I can have this. Frame it. Put it on my wall.”
An absurd, nervous laugh—perilously close to a giggle—rose up out of Kari’s chest. “Why would you want to do that?”
“Because I like it and I want to look at it.”
Kari goggled at him. He looked sincere, but he had to be pulling her leg. “It’s just a sketch.”
“And people frame sketches and put them on walls all the time. It’s called hanging art. I’ll give you whatever you want for it.”
“I told you I don’t make things for money.”
In fact, she remembered quite clearly that she had said she did it for love.
He squinted at her and she had the prickly, uncomfortable feeling that he had remembered her exact words too. “I don’t want to insult you or make you do anything you don’t want to do. I just really, really like this.”
He was serious. It was finally sinking in. “If you really want it, you can have it.”
He looked from the drawing to her face. “Why won’t you let me pay you for it?”
“I wouldn’t even know where to begin to explain why.”
“Try anyway.”
She huffed a frustrated sigh. “First of all, it’s just an amateur sketch. Second of all, it makes me feel weird to try to put a price tag on something I enjoyed doing so much. Third of all…I have no idea how to value it.”
“How about we stop by the big craft store on the way home and look at frames. I’m not paying you less for the art than the frame it should go in. That will at least give us a point to start from.”
“I can’t believe you’re serious about this,” she said, covering her eyes with one hand.
“Absolutely serious. Let’s go.”
Chapter Thirteen
“There.” Rob stepped back from the wall, letting his hands drop to his side and looked at the framed sketch with satisfaction. “Perfect.”
“You’re unbelievable,” Kari said, her hands over her eyes for what had to be the twentieth time since he had brought up wanting to buy the sketch from her.
“No, you’re talented and you need to suck it up and stop fighting the idea,” Rob said. They had found a pre-made frame with a mat at the craft store. Rob had made Kari sign the sketch before framing it and deciding that it should take pride of place over an armchair in his living room where a generic print he had been given by some relative had once hung for lack of anything else that was the appropriate size to go there. This was perfect. The print could be consigned to a hallway.
Kari still had her hands over her eyes. “Somewhere inside me is a fifteen-year-old girl who’s convinced you’re actually teasing me and you’re going to say, ‘Psych! Just kidding!’”
Rob pulled at her hands, peeling her fingers away from her face. She let him do it and looked at him, a half-exasperated, half-amused look on her face. “Don’t look at me,” she said.
He took her shoulders and turned her toward the wall with its new artwork. “Okay. But look at that and tell me you don’t think it looks great.
She heaved a sigh, her shoulders moving under his hands. Reflexively, he dug his thumbs into the tight muscles at the base of her neck, stroking out the tension. She let her head sag forward and a little groan of relief leaked out of her. Rob’s pulse picked up, aware of the smell of her—sunshine and clean laundry, sunscreen and warm skin. He resisted the urge to pull her back against his chest, to bury his nose in her hair, to trace the length of her neck with his lips.
“See? It’s good isn’t it?” He didn’t know if he was talking about the sketch, the impromptu back rub, or the so-bad-they’re-good ideas that were running through his head.
“The sketch is okay. The fingers are magic, though.”
Magic. The word shot through him, an electrical thrill of sensation. His hands slid down her arms, around her waist, and she leaned back into him, her head slowly tipping back to rest on his shoulder. They stayed that way for a few breaths. She just felt so unbelievably good in his arms. So right. The silky fineness of her hair a tickling softness on his neck, her belly rising and falling under his palms with every breath.
“We should probably—” she began to turn and lift her head at the same time as Rob’s face turned toward her, and their lips brushed, noses bumped, and his hands weren’t at her waist, but cupping her cheeks, fingers sliding into her hair and they were kissing. Her lips tasted like the Oreos she’d eaten in the car as she teased him about hanging her “amateur hour” on his wall.
Now the teasing was of an entirely different nature. Her head slanted and he followed her example, their lips moving and exploring, moving even closer until Kari’s breasts pressed softly into his chest, her arms winding behind his neck, his hands sliding down her back to pull her even closer. She moaned, a tiny sound deep in her throat and her fingers moved up the back of his neck, into his hair, causing currents of electricity to run from his scalp to his toes and every sensitive, neglected place in between.
Somewhere in the back of Kari’s mind was a little voice saying this was probably a bad idea.
Somewhere in the back of Kari’s mind was a voice plagued with ignorance that needed to shut up. Because kissing Rob was wonderful. Who knew bumping noses and almost drawing away in awkward embarrassment could turn into this warm, thumping need, this press of bodies and searching lips?
Well Kari sure knew it now and that little voice could go to hell, especially with Rob’s tongue teasing at the seam of her mouth, requesting entry.
Oh, yes. With a shuddering breath, she parted her lips and met his tongue with her own, licking and teasing, even more tangible evidence of his arousal pressing into her pelvis.
He pulled back with a little shudder, his eyes heavy-lidded and his breath coming hard. Kari forced herself to loosen her grip on the back of his head, her fingers easing out of his hair. But instead of pulling further away, Rob took one of her hands and pressed a soft kiss to her palm, sending a jolt of sensation through her.
“We should be smart about this,” he mumbled into her hand, his breath hot against her skin.
“Can we be stupid first and smart later?” she asked.
He chuckled, his mouth still pressed to her palm, his breath huffing warmth against her skin. Then he folded her hand in his and brought it to his chest, meeting her eyes, huge black pupils starting to contract. “I like you too much to be stupid, Kari.”
“I like you too, but being a little stupid isn’t such a bad thing. Is it?”
“There’s stupid and there’s stupid. I haven’t dated for nearly a decade because I was bad at it. I don’t want you to end up hating me.”
“There’s that going for the ending before the beginning again.” Irritation welled in Kari, combining in a toxic stew with sexual frustration, making her voice snap.
Rob smoothed a hand down her shoulder. “No, just learning from history. I jumped in feet first. Always. Too fast, too little thought. I’m not saying no. I’m saying let’s slow this down.”
Kari tamped her annoyance down. He had a point, as much as her hopping libido wanted to argue. After all, her ignorant, back-of-the-brain voice had said something not too different just a few minutes ago. Maybe that voice wasn’t so off-base after all.
She hated the voice. She wanted to be stupid. She wanted to be the irresponsible teenager she had never been. She’d been careful Kari, sensible Kari, get the best grades you can and keep your head down Kari. The first-generation kid who had to make her parents proud. Then to get a good job so she could take care of herself. Then to be the daughter who had to care for her dying mother.
She sagged back a little, conscious of his hand still at the small of her back, still pressing her to him. It gave her courage, the little evidence that he wasn’t repulsed by her. Maybe he even still wanted her.
His hand pressed more firmly against her back, the other evidence he wasn’t repulsed by her hard against the front of her body.
“What’s the issue?” Kari swallowed, her throat resisting.
“Me.” Rob’s eyes sank closed.
Rob took a deep breath. How to explain this without sounding like a presumptuous jackass?
I’m never getting married again.
Kari’s wide, pale blue eyes were expectant, waiting. He supposed she would say he was beginning at the end. She’d be right.
And what exactly did Kari want? She was forty-two, had just bought her own home, no long-term relationship. Putting those factors together, maybe she wasn’t interested in getting married either.
The thought was blinding in its novelty.
“What exactly do you want from me, Kari?”
Her eyes dropped to his mouth. With her free hand, she traced his lips with her fingertips, the barest touch, almost tickling. “Right now? I was enjoying kissing. It’s nice to get wound up over something that is pleasurable instead of something that’s stressing me out.”
“So that was it? Just scratching an itch?” Perversely, the idea irritated Rob. He released the hand that he had been cradling in his and she gave him a little smack on the shoulder.
“No. I also like you. You’re kind and funny and helpful and I enjoy spending time with you.”
“Funny?”
“Well, you do tend toward dad jokes. But I’m not lactose intolerant, so I can handle the cheese.”
“Of course I tell dad-jokes. I’m a dad.” He’d never considered that telling dad jokes could be appealing. But Kari was different from anyone he’d ever met before. Special.
“I haven’t forgotten.” She frowned a little at that, and she pulled away a little. “Maybe it was a bad idea.”
He smoothed his hands over her shoulders, stilling her retreat. “What’s the matter?”
Her eyes flicked toward the drawing, then back to his face. Her lower teeth raked over her upper lip.
“Use your words, Kari.” Glancing at the sketch, light started to dawn. “Is it something about Mia?”
“I just…no. I’ve never dated someone with a child before. I don’t want to do something wrong.”
Rob tugged her to the sofa and sat on it, pulling her down with him. “It breaks my heart a little bit to say it, but Mia’s an adult. I don’t know what kind of concerns you have about her as a factor in my life, but you might as well come out and say them.”
“I just…” She huffed out a breath. “Okay, fine. She didn’t seem to like me much. I know how close you two are. That seems to be the makings for a bad situation.”
Rob blinked at Kari for a few endless moments. “You thought she didn’t like you?”
“Well, she seemed very…reserved around me.”
“She is reserved with people she doesn’t know well yet.”
“So she doesn’t dislike me?”
“Why are you hanging on to this notion? I told you she liked you.”
“No, you said she didn’t dislike me.”
“And?”
Kari blinked. “There’s a world of difference.”
“Good grief.” Rob leaned over and picked his phone up off of the coffee table. Tapping at his texting app, he scrolled until he reached the message he wanted. “Look at this and tell me my daughter dislikes you.”
I like her. You should date her.
Kari stared at the words as if they were written in a language she didn’t recognize. The header in the texting app showed clear as day that the message was from Mia, complete with an avatar of the young woman snuggled up to her dog.
“This is about me?”
“Of course it is. Look at the date and time stamp.”
Kari looked. The evening she had met Mia. The day she embarrassed herself to the ninth awkward circle of Hell and back. She’d been worried all this time for literally nothing?
“She was matchmaking based on less than five minutes’ acquaintance?”
“Why not? You had convinced yourself she loathed you in the same time period.”
Kari handed the phone back to him. “Somehow that seems more reasonable. Single dad, only daughter…”
“This isn’t a Greek tragedy and Mia’s an independent sort anyway.”
“And yet she’s trying to meddle in your love life.”
“My so-long-dormant-it-might-as-well-be-dead-and-buried love life, yes. If we were two Barbie dolls, she’d be banging us together yelling, ‘Now, kiss.’”
Kari cringed a little at banging, but the image still brought a smile to her lips. “Does she do this often?”
