Page 27 of Space Oddities

Under the shade of my visor, I keep tabs on Ian driving back and forth across the large yard. The way the sun reflects off his skin. How his biceps bunch every time he turns the wheel.

I fan myself with my notebook.

If things were different, maybe I wouldn’t have rebuffed Ian from the start. Maybe I would’ve said yes to a date. He would have opened the car door for me and pulled out my chair at dinner. Maybe I’d be living in an apartment. Somewhere upscale, so that when Ian kissed me good night, he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable coming inside, laying me down on a large king-sized bed, running his hands up to spread my legs.

My hand fans faster.

His kiss would be gentle at first, gradually getting harder, until we were both in a panic to undress, to feel each other’s skin, bask in the heat our bodies make.

I fan so hard I lose my grip and bash my nose with my notebook.

“Ow.” Eye watering, I blink the tears back and rub the bridge of my nose. “Get your head out of the clouds, Patty,” I mutter to myself. Things arenotdifferent. This isn’t one of my books. I pull the pen out from my notebook’s spiral spine and tap it against the cover. If it was, I’d—

I sit up straight, an outline forming in my head. “If it was…” Glancing at Ian again, I swallow hard at the sight of the peaks and valleys of his abs.

And then I start to write.

Eight

Mighty Wang

Ian

She’s beenbent over her notebook for the past hour.

I know because every time I turned the mower, making a precise linear pattern in the grass, I glanced up, thinking that after her obvious jealousy I’d catch her looking. Checking me out. Wondering what I was thinking.

Wrong.

Trish hasn’t once met my eyes. She didn’t even look up when I stopped the mower ten feet away and ambled over to the pool.

Toeing off my sneakers and pulling off my socks, I walk up until my toes just hang off the edge of the coping. With one more glance at Trish’s bent head, I jump. “Cannonball!”

My lungs expand with a last gulp of air right before I break the surface. Water arcs out around me. Once submerged, I hear Trish’s warbled scream. Laughter bubbles out of my mouth.

Planting my feet on the bottom and bending my knees into a lunge position, I surge up to a gasp of air and the sounds of a sweet southern belle cursing.

“Son of a biscuit! Just what in tarnation are you trying to do?” She’s hunched over her notebook like a mother hen protecting her chick.

One stroke brings me to the side of the pool closest to her. Resting my arms on the edge, I grin. “Has anyone ever told you you sound like Yosemite Sam when you’re angry?”

Her wet ponytail falls off her shoulder as she uncurls from her protective hunch. “Not if they wanted to live.” Carefully she pulls the notepad away from her chest, inspecting it for damage.

“What are you writing, anyway?” I glance up at the sun, slightly lower since I started mowing the yard. “You’re probably gonna have a sunburned neck with how long you’ve been bent over that thing.” I can’t be certain due to the large visor she’s wearing, but I’m pretty sure Trish just rolled her eyes at me.

“I put on SPF 50.” She brushes her hand across the page like she’s cleaning it. “I’ll be fine, thank you.”

Damn, she’s cute.

“So what are you writing?”

Finishing the inspection of her notepad, she places it on the table next to her. “Not that it’s any of your concern, but I was writing a scene for my new book.” Closing her eyes, she settles back on the lounge. “Inspiration finally struck,” she mutters under her breath, but I still hear her.

“Oh yeah?” My eyes track the path of water droplets sliding down her bare skin. I lick my lips. “What, uh, inspired you?”

One hand reaches up to tilt her visor down lower over her eyes. “Never you mind.”

Interesting.

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