The Homecoming
Page 50

“Right now I have feelings like I’d love to shove you in a hole! Don’t you hear what I’m saying? I had a big crush on you, all right? And you let me down. I know it was a long time ago and I know you’re sorry and I accept your apology, but all that being said I still don’t feel like going through it again. So we can be friends, all right? But not every damn day—it sets me up for a major letdown. And I want to be free! I’ll never find the right guy if you keep slogging up my brain like you do.”
“I do?”
“You do! You are not boyfriend material. You are pal qualified and that’s about all.”
He took another swallow of his beer. “That’s perfectly understandable, Iris,” he said. “I’ll be more careful about that.” He stood. “Thanks for the beer.” And then he let himself out the back door.
She heard his car start.
“That went well,” she said to no one. “Thanks for the advice, Grace!”
* * *
Seth drove about four blocks to the alley behind the flower shop. He left his car running while he ran up the stairs and pounded on Grace’s door. She opened it cautiously; she was in her pajamas.
“I need flowers,” he said.
“What kind of flowers?”
“It doesn’t matter, but I need some right this minute. They’re for Iris.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
“Come on, could we hurry up here?”
“Iris likes calla lilies. I might have some in the cooler....”
“Today, Grace?”
“Let me get my keys.”
She locked her back door, ran down the stairs and let herself into the shop. It took her about five minutes to gather the flowers, put them in a vase, tie a ribbon around it and walk into the alley to give them to Seth.
“What do I owe you?” he asked, reaching for his pocket.
“I’ll run you a tab. I’m not opening the register tonight. But it’s going to be expensive.”
“I’ll stop by tomorrow or Monday and settle up.”
“Sure,” she said. “I hope she likes ’em.”
I hope she likes me, Seth thought. He drove back to Iris’s house, backed into her driveway and hurried to her front door. She was used to him coming to the back door, but he rang the bell and knocked.
Iris opened the door. She held his beer in one hand and a tissue in the other. “What the—”
He pushed his way in, sliding an arm around her waist, holding the flowers in the other hand. He leaned his forehead against hers. “I’m back,” he said. “I don’t want to be a pal. I want to be more. Way more.”
“You better not be lying,” she said with a sniff.
He kissed her. It was clumsy at first. She backed away a little. Then she moved forward and let him cover her lips with his. He felt the initial resistance and then the submission. He moved his mouth over hers for a moment and then, against her lips, he whispered, “You’re going to let me in, trust me, give me a chance and eventually you’re going to love me as much as I love you.”
“You...? Love...?”
“I do, Iris. I’ve always loved you but I didn’t know what love was. I think I’ve got it now.” He reached behind him to set the flowers on the table just inside the front door, then wrapped both his arms around her waist. “I wasn’t fooling around, I was just giving you time to get used to me again. I’ve missed you so much. I think we’re right together.”
Her eyes teared up. “Seth, why didn’t you act like it?”
“I tried to let you know without getting clocked,” he said. “I’m coming over every day and not to be your buddy. You have to give me a chance.”
“Oh, God,” she said, putting both arms around his neck to hold him closer. She promptly poured half a cold beer down his back.
“Ah!” he said, shouting and arching.
“Oh, God!” she said, righting the bottle in her hand. She made to pull away but he pulled her right back.
“Iris, how long are you going to continue to torture me?” he asked her. “Can we put down all the weapons and just make out for a while?”
“I suppose, but shouldn’t we get you out of that wet shirt?”
He smiled, lifted one eyebrow, reached for the vase of calla lilies and poured the water down the front of her shirt. She gasped, arched away from him, then started to laugh. She emptied the rest of the beer on the front of his shirt while her lips were pressed against his. He poured a little more water from the vase down her back.
And then the laughing stopped and the kissing grew more intense. Hotter. And deeper and wetter.
“Just take me to bed, Iris,” he whispered. “And I’ll never ask for another thing.”
Fourteen
It was like old times and yet completely new. It was fun and games and then it was desperately serious, Iris thought. The first thing Seth did was take the beer bottle from her hand. “Are you finished with this?”
“I think so.”
“You were crying and drinking my beer?” he asked.
“Don’t flatter yourself, I didn’t cry that much. But I did drink a little of your beer.”
He touched her lips with his again. “Good idea,” he said. He ran a tongue over her lips. “You have excellent lips, Iris. Just excellent.”
As they made their way to the bedroom, he pulled her wet shirt off, then his own, tossing them both on the floor. He kissed her; he unsnapped her jeans and pushed them down over her hips, never letting her go. “Sit,” he said, sitting on the edge of the bed himself. While she kicked off her pants, he took some time to remove his shoes and that secret gun he wore around his ankle. He started to put it on the bedside table, then cast a narrow-eyed glance her way, lifted a thoughtful eyebrow and moved the gun to the dresser across the room.
“I can still get to it there,” she said, laughter in her voice.
“With you, I have to worry. If I don’t perform well, I might get shot.”
He pulled his jeans down and stood in his plaid boxers. “Sexy,” she said.
“Be careful. It’s the family tartan.”
“The Sileski clan has a tartan?” she asked.
“I didn’t think I was getting lucky tonight. I also didn’t think I was getting thrown out. A guy has to be ready for anything with you, Iris.” He lifted an edge of the covers. “And I am. Crawl in.”