“Well, I was gonna say tits, but actually I think I’ll stick with smile.”
“Why? Don’t tell me you’re not fascinated by big boobs. All men are.”
“Not true.” Charlie tossed his gloves and hammer into his toolbox before kicking it shut. “I don’t have anything against them, but I don’t have a preference for them either. I think yours are perfect, so you don’t have to get all annoyed with me.”
“I wasn’t getting annoyed.” I was, but his compliment took the edge off. “Just stating a fact: Coco has big yummy breasts.”
“You’ve tasted them? Because I am fascinated by that.”
I gave him a flat look. “I meant, she has voluptuous curves that most men drool over and up-and-down girls like me envy.”
“I know plenty of women who would envy your cute little ass too, so it goes both ways.”
He thinks my small ass is cute. “Thanks. I guess it does.”
“I’m surprised they agreed to bring a dumpster here the day after Thanksgiving.”
“Oh, yeah. Nick called in a favor. Some kind of Italian thing.”
He nodded. “That explains it. Are we done here?”
We were, although I almost wished I hadn’t insisted on finishing tonight. When would I see him again? In that moment I found myself wishing a few things, actually—I wished he weren’t so handsome and funny. I wished we weren’t so different. I wished we didn’t have the spark. I wished I had the nerve to say fuck compatibility—you and I could be good together. Tell me your secrets. I’ll tell you mine. Let’s take a chance.
But I held my tongue and nodded.
After I locked up the studio, Charlie walked me to my car. It felt as if the temperature had dropped at least twenty degrees in the last few hours, and I shivered. “Brrr. Is it supposed to snow tonight?”
“I think so. Roads will probably be bad tomorrow.”
“You working?”
“Just half a day. I’m not traffic, though.”
“Will you get Thanksgiving dinner somewhere?” I wrapped my arms around myself, hopping from one foot to the other to keep warm.
He shrugged. “Somewhere. I have to go see my granddad. Maybe we’ll go out.”
On the tip of my tongue was an invitation to come to my mother’s house, but I thought I better not. Family holidays were probably reserved for compatible people. “Well. Thanks for helping me,” I said, my breath frosting the air.
“You’re welcome.” Charlie pointed his nose at my car. “Go on, get in. It’s cold.”
Seriously? Not even a hug? Sheesh, he really was afraid of sending the wrong message. Taking a page from his book, I decided to mess with him a little. Rising on tiptoe, I threw my arms around him, tight, pressing my chest and stomach against his. “I mean it. I’m really grateful for what you did.”
He gave me a quick squeeze around the middle and let go, but I didn’t.
“Wow, you’re so warm,” I said, lifting my chin to whisper breathy words in his ear. His body stiffened, making me smile. “And so big and strong and handsome. And you give such good hugs—I can’t help myself. I’m totally attached to you. I can’t let go! Marry me, Charlie Dwyer! Tonight! I want to have your babies!” As my voice rose I got more dramatic, clinging to him, jumping up and down, dangling from his neck like a baby chimp.
“Very funny.”
Laughing, I straightened up and released him. “Scare you for a minute?”
“For a second, maybe.”
“Good. You deserved it. You can give me a hug, you know. I won’t expect a ring next Tuesday because of it.”
He held up his hands. “OK, OK. I confess, I tend to be uncomfortable with gestures of affection.”
“So for you, physical contact is sexual or nothing?”
“Pretty much.”
I shook my head. “Jesus, Charlie. You’re such an asshole.”
He tugged on my hair. “For a girl who doesn’t swear, you swear a lot.”
“Guess you bring out the devil in me.”
He laughed. “I’d say that’s mutual. So you better get in the car. You have my number, right?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Call if you need help laying the new floor.”
“OK. Night.”
“Night.”
Charlie waited until I pulled out to get into his car, which had been parked next to mine. Not a shiny black Lexus, but a nice enough silver Honda, which did not appear to have litter in the back seat (I checked).
As I drove home, I was torn between being glad we’d agreed on the no-more-sex thing, and feeling a little disappointed I wouldn’t experience the things that Charlie made me feel again. That sense of abandonment, feeling free to do or say wicked naughty things because someone else was prompting me. But that was silly—surely there were other men out there who’d bring out the devil in me, weren’t there? Men with less ego and more heart? Men who were interested in that kind of sex but also a relationship? There had to be. And if he drove a Lexus and took me to the opera and flew me to Paris to propose, all the better.
Yes, I’d say.
Yes, yes, yes.
Which is exactly what I said the following morning in bed, when I fantasized that Charlie came over to surprise me, found my door unlocked, and came upstairs to punish me for it.
Although after the real thing, even the Naughty Rabbit felt a little less impressive.