And assured myself that defending my integrity was the only reason I’d decided to lure Orion Starr to my home.
Chapter Six
As the hour edged toward eight, I resigned myself to the fact that Orion was not going to show up. He probably thought I was weird for making such an issue of things, and for inviting him to my home. I was feeling embarrassed by the whole thing now, though it was tinged with a little disappointment that I wouldn’t get to see him.
But I was also somewhat relieved I no longer had to be all nervous about his arrival. I’d been twitchy ever since he hung up, which wasn’t like me at all. I didn’t even get that nervous about going on my ‘How Sweet’ dates, and thank God for that, because it was exhausting.
I ate a piece of lasagna, then whipped up a batch of oatmeal macadamia nut cookies and slid them into the oven. I could have saved them for the next time the kids came over—the cookies were supposed to be for them, after all—but I was still in cooking rampage mode. It was no longer fueled by rage, however. Now I was just weary and sad, the entire episode with Jasper this morning triggering fresh grief over my mother’s passing. I’d grieved her a lot over the past year, but now it had a layer of something nasty and foul mixed in. My father’s confession was infuriating, but at the same time it made me want to weep. But I’d never been much of a crier, so I made cookies instead.
Glancing out the kitchen window, I realized the lights were still on over in the garage. I’d been so looking forward to watching Orion eat crow for being wrong about me, and had strategically turned on specific lighting fixtures inside to better aesthetically highlight the space. I turned my music down, and was about to stroll over and shut the lights off, when I heard banging on my front door.
I wasn’t surprised by the flip my stomach did as I went to answer the door. While there was some denial going on inside me, I wasn’t a total idiot. I knew that since the moment I met Orion—shit, even from the moment I saw him in that dunk tank—I’d been feeling things that didn’t quite fit with my normal programming.
Some men might have recoiled at the first hint of it, like Orion was a cactus they’d accidentally backed into. But for me, it wasn’t a completely foreign frame of mind, because there was a time, way back in middle school, when I felt a pull toward a boy or two. Otherwise, maybe I would have been asking myself more questions. But I always figured the human body was a complicated thing, and if it liked what it saw, there was no point arguing, because it wouldn’t listen anyway. It didn’t have to define you, and besides, when puberty hit, I became more interested in girls, so figured the other thing just…went away, chalking it up to the chaotic nature of prepubescent hormones.
It had gone away, far as I knew. I’d been a faithful husband to Vi, but even when I did indulge in extramarital fantasies, it was always other women I imagined. I hadn’t given my sexual preference a single thought in over twenty years.
And it didn’t matter either way. I could accept a few stomach flutters. It wasn’t like I was going to nourish these sensations, not with him. How had he put it in his message? ‘…because you don’t like what I represent.’ Accurate. I didn’t like what Orion represented, a direct line to the tarnishing of my parents’ marriage, and by association, my mother’s memory. He might fascinate me in a way I hadn’t experienced in…ever, if I was being honest. But his very existence and what he represented made me feel bad, and that overshadowed any good feelings he might provoke. So, with logic reigning over ambivalence, I opened the front door.
And my whole world keeled to the side like it’d been hit with a tidal wave. The thunder and lightning from earlier had ceased, but rain still hammered down, and Orion stood there soaking wet. Drenched from head to toe, he held a duffle bag over his head as a modified umbrella. “Fuck, it’s about time!” His dark brows pinched in annoyance as he tried in vain to blow a wet lock of hair out of his eyes. “Just gonna stand there staring or are you gonna let me in?”
I waved him inside and closed the door. He let the bag thump onto the floor, then swiped his wet locks out of his eyes and glared at me. He looked like an angry, messy, stunningly handsome drowned rat, wet clothes clinging to his body like a second skin. He was in another flamboyant outfit tonight, a turquoise silk shirt this time with a ruby red vest, more matching beads draped over his chest, multiple silver bracelets jangling at his wrists. His hair was saturated, and while last night it had been smooth and straight but for the ringlets at the bottom, the rain had made sleek, corkscrew squiggles of the entire mess.
“You’re wet,” I said.
“No shit.” His chest heaved as he took a breath, rubbing his arms. “I was standing out there for ten minutes! Knocking and ringing the doorbell.”
“Doorbell doesn’t work, sorry. And I had the music up loud.”
“I know.” He shook his hair out and wiped his nose. “I could hear you singing, or I would have left.”
I had to force myself not to stare at the peaks of his nipples through the thin, soaked silk of the shirt. It wasn’t just that I could see the outline of his body, it was that I knew from his website exactly what he looked like underneath the clothes. I pointed to the bag on the floor. “You moving in?”
“I had it in my trunk, went and got it after you didn’t answer right away. Was hoping you’d let me come in and change my clothes. Since you fucking left me out there forever.”
“Sorry, I’d given up on you showing.” He still looked furious, but I couldn’t help chuckling at the dripping smears smudged beneath his eyes. “Were you wearing eyeliner?”
“Yes.” He batted at his eyes with his fingers. “Can I use your bathroom to clean up and change? Please.”
“Sure. It’s just off the kitchen. Towels in the closet outside of it. Help yourself.”
He picked up the bag and hurried off to the bathroom, and it was only when I heard the door close that I relaxed. My heart was beating too fast again, and I knew I had to get hold of myself. He wasn’t here so I could gawk at him. This was about my father. I’d rehearsed a whole diatribe concerning what I was going to scold him about, but I already felt sidetracked.
I puttered around the kitchen cleaning things that didn’t need to be cleaned. When the timer dinged, I pulled the cookies out of the oven and was setting them on the stovetop when I heard Orion come out of the bathroom.
“Something smells good.”
Putting down the oven mitts, I faced him. “I made cookies. They need to cool, but you’re welcome to have one.”
“Oh.” He frowned. “Thought I smelled garlic.”
“Yeah, made lasagna and meatballs too.”
He dropped his bag onto the kitchen floor, then walked over to the counter, peering at the lasagna. “Huh. Didn’t know you cooked like that.”
“Why would you?”
“Trust me, I know plenty about you.”
I laughed. “I know you think you do. Oh…this is certainly a different look.” I waved my hand at his outfit. “Where are all your bangles and silk?”
He’d changed into soft faded jeans with ripped knees and a simple brown tee shirt, face wiped clean of makeup. He looked more approachable without all the fanfare, but also rougher in a way, just a regular guy. He’d toweled off his damp hair, and it was tied back into a short ponytail, two loose tendrils framing his face, one brown, one yellow. “Everything’s wet, obviously,” he said. “Anyway, I only dress like that for certain jobs.”