Wet

“Is that you, Paul Junior?”

I grimace. “Yes, it is Eleanor.”

“I don’t like to be called that.”

“And there is nothing junior about me—so we’re even.”

“I really enjoyed meeting your family.”

“I bet.”

“They’re very colorful. And your parents are so sweet with each other. How long have they been married?”

“This year will be thirty-six years.”

“Wow . . . and they still love each other.”

“Isn’t that the idea?”

“Sure, in a perfect world.”

“Well, they put up with each other.”

“You’re such a romantic, Paul.”

“Well I’m more romantic than Patrick, but believe me, that isn’t saying much. Is it true he was giving you tax advice when he should’ve been kissing you against your car?”

She sighs. “Tax advice . . . yes, that was so sweet. And he offered to come clean out my rain gutters.”

I huff. “His dating skills are impressive.”

“Do you even begin to understand how sexy a man who is handy is to a busy woman like me?”

“Well, I’m handy, too. I’m handy as hell.”

She moans. “Well if you keep teasing me like this, I’ll start breaking things around here just to get you to come by.”

I laugh uncomfortably because I sense she really might do that and I know I’m playing with fire.

Chapter Five

THE SIDEWAYS SAMBA

Jim catches me in the parking lot at the church. “Hey, Paul.”

I nod his way. “Jim.”

“Good to see you here. So how are things with that woman? Have you been able to avoid her?”

“I haven’t gone to her house in ten days.”

“Okay, that’s good. Have you talked to her?”

I turn my car keys over in my hands. “Yeah.”

“How do you feel when you’ve talked to her? Is the desire less intense, or more?”

“I can’t say less. I’ll doubt I’ll ever say less when it comes to her, but I’m keeping my promise to myself.”

“Good.” Jim nods and unfolds his arms from his chest.

“And she’s still doing Tinder so that’s a big fucking red flag.”

“Yes it is, my man. Yes it is.”

That evening I wonder who else Elle has hooked up with. Or maybe Stephan ‘the architect’ was her dream man giving her multiple mind-blowing orgasms. Will sex be her salvation, or her downfall like it was for me?

I pick up the phone and press her name on my contact list, only to put it down again, releasing a long sigh.

A second later the damn phone rings and I look down and see it’s her. The timing is so weird that there’s no way I’m not going to answer it.

“Elle?”

“Hi, Paulie.”

“What’s up?”

“I need you.”

There’s a long pause as my mind flings about every single scenario those three works imply. Yet in my heart I know this woman . . . she’s teasing me.

I’m not going to make it easy on her.

“How badly do you need me?”

“So badly,” she says with a breathy gasp. “I may come undone unless you can take care of me.”

“What do you need from me exactly?”

“I’m in the dark, Paulie. I thought you could give me light.”

“Do you care to elaborate? ‘Cause if this is depression, I can’t say I’m your man.”

She scoffs. “Depression? No, I have a burned-out light bulb.”

I’d be pissed if it were anyone but flirty Elle. “So you need me to change a light bulb? Are you screwing with me?”

“No, I’m not, and once you see how heavy the light fixture is you’ll understand. Besides if you came over to change the damn thing, I could be screwing with you. This light fixture is right over the bed, and you should know that I’m someone who likes to leave the light on. I want to see everything.”

“Everything?”

“Oh yeah.”

Naturally that makes her Tinder escapades pop into my head. “So how did things go with Stephan? Was he a freak like the others?”

“Actually, not at all. He’s a gentleman.”

“Good in bed?” My hand tightens over the phone. I’m desperately hoping she says they didn’t get that far.

“Really good, actually. Very attentive.”

“Great,” I respond with the most contrived enthusiasm in my life. “So you’ve found your stud.”

“I wouldn’t go that far. He’s got issues I’m trying to figure out.”

Smiling, my grip on the phone eases. “What kind of issues?”

“Well, at first I thought it was really sweet when he jumped out of bed right after sex to get warm washcloths for both of us. He even took the time to clean me up.”

“You mean like a sponge bath?” I ask, trying to imagine what kind of man gives sponge baths after sex.

“Sort of like that. I didn’t mind. It felt good.”

“Okay, then what was weird? You said there were issues.”

“Well when I wanted to get wild again he said I had to take a shower first.”

“Are you serious?”

“And he showed me the detachable handle in the shower, if you get my drift.”

“He likes everything squeaky clean?”

She giggles. “Apparently. I mean don’t get me wrong, I’d prefer a clean person over a sloppy one, but this was a little over the top.”

“Did he have those large pump containers of hand sanitizers everywhere?”

She lets out a squeal. “How did you know?”

“I just had a feeling. And I bet he makes you take your shoes off when you come inside.”

“Yes! Yes!”

“Are you seeing him again?”

“Actually I invited him to come over tonight and he asked what day my housekeeper comes. When I told him tomorrow he said he had work to do tonight but he could come tomorrow night.”

“Awesome. You sure know how to pick ’em, Elle.”

“Well at least I’m having some fun . . . and putting myself out there.”

“I’ll tell you what. Tell Sterile Stephan that you’re busy tomorrow since after work I’m coming over to change your light bulb, and I’m messy. Yeah, tell him I get sweaty and dirty when I work at your place and so it probably wouldn’t be a good night for him to come over.”

“Do you really get sweaty and dirty when you work?”

“Do you want me to get sweaty and dirty?”

“Oh, yeah. That’s hot. Hey, can you wear a wifebeater shirt and not shave so you have scruff?”

“What? Why?”

“I want to see your shoulders. I bet they’re built. Do you have any tattoos?”

“I’m not telling.”

“Tease!”

“Anything else, Ms. Demanding? Work boots? A hardhat?”

“No, but worn tight jeans would be good. Oh, and a tool belt!”

“You’re kidding, right?”

There’s a long pause. She isn’t kidding?

“Ummm. Do you want me to be kidding?”

“Hey! I know what this is about!” I slap my hand down on the counter. “What are you currently reading?”

Another pause.

“A book,” she answers quietly.

“And the name is . . .”

“Duke’s Revenge.”

“Sounds like a Pulitzer.”

“All right smarty pants. You know it’s erotic romance so just deal with it.”

“I’m dealing. And what does Duke do for a living?”

“He’s a construction worker.”

“Let me guess, and he has scruff, worn jeans and a tool belt.”

“Maybe.”

“Does he wear that tool belt to bed?”

“I don’t know. So far all the sex hasn’t been in bed.”

“Whoa. He’s a stud! Where’s the sex happen?”

“Let me think . . . in his truck, the construction elevator, on top of her desk, in the back room of her studio . . . and I’m only three chapters in.”

“Does he ever actually do construction?”

“I don’t know, and frankly I don’t care.”

“Well I hope this woman he’s screwing has a good job. Somebody needs to bring home the bacon.”

“She’s an architect!”

I laugh. “And she’s the designer of all the stuff that he doesn’t construct because he’s too busy screwing her.”

“Okay Mr. Judgey. Can you be there at six? I have a meeting that may run late but I’m sure I’ll be home by then.”

“See you at six.”