Page 242 of Love in Riverbend
Turning her barstool, I angle Marilyn until she’s facing me. Stepping down to the floor, I spread her knees and move closer. “Let’s scream it from the rooftops. Riverbend didn’t implode when Justin and Devan announced their relationship. I think it can survive ours too.”
“Ours.”
Her cheeks have paled.
“Is this—” I motion between us “—not a relationship? I mean, if we were still in Riverbend, would you not want me to walk the stands before a softball game and kiss you?”
“Can we please go slower?”
“Slower, as in no more sex?”
She lays her hand on my chest. “Slower, as in telling our friends and family.”
“Are you ashamed?” I ask.
“No,” she answers quickly. “I’m confused.”
I take a step back. “What are you confused about?”
“You.”
“Can you be more specific?”
Marilyn hops down from the stool and paces to the sink and back with her lips pressed together. “What are you doing, Ricky Dunn?”
“I’m watching the most beautiful woman I know prance around in a sexy robe. I also just ate breakfast. It’s not confusing.”
“It is. Last night…this morning…I have no regrets.”
“Fuck, that’s encouraging.”
She reaches for my arm. “Ricky, please. I’m not throwing it in your face, but you hurt me. I’m not even talking about your phone.”
“I’ve changed that.”
“You’ve heard the saying, hurt me once, shame on you. Hurt me twice, shame on me?”
Swallowing, I nod. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Did you want to seven years ago?”
“Intentionally, no.”
“I don’t want to hurt you either. Let’s see where this goes. We can drive separately to Riverbend and sleep in separate rooms. Think of it as the opposite of last night. Instead of pretending we’re a couple, let’s pretend we’re not. Just while we’re in Riverbend.”
“I don’t like it.”
Marilyn tilts her head and pouts her adorable lips, melting my resolve.
“Okay, but if I find you alone, I get to kiss you.”
“If you find me alone, you can do more than that.”
“Deal.”
By early afternoon, I’m looking around the old barn, seeing that not much has changed. Devan and Justin have done so much with the house, the barn is probably not high on their priority list. Justin walks to the back tool bench and slides a wooden partition to the side, revealing a small refrigerator. He opens the door, takes out two beers, and slams the door shut. “Here.” He tosses the beer my direction.
I’m lucky enough to catch it. “It’s barely noon.”
