Free Believing Again by Peggy Bird

he’d described to her about his recent experiences. Besides, they both had ball-busting jobs that took up all their lives and then some. When would there ever be time for anything else? More accurately, was she willing to find the time? After working as hard as she had to get where she was, was she willing to slow down enough to let someone like Jake in?
    On the other hand, she didn’t think keeping it light and casual after tonight would be easy. They’d gone speeding from a kiss in the kitchen to this uncharted emotional territory where she didn’t know anything about the terrain or the rules and wasn’t even sure she wanted to know either.
    She felt the bed shift with his weight as he moved. “Hey,” he said softly. “You okay?”
    Opening her eyes, she saw him propped on one elbow, peering down at her, a worried look on his face. It was now or never. She had to set the tone for the rest of the evening, maybe for the rest of whatever would be between them. “No, I’m not, Jake.”
    She swore his breathing stopped for a moment. “What’s the matter? Was something … ?”
    Shaking her head she hastily said, “There was a promise made about dinner. I’m starved and all we’ve done since I got here is hang around your bedroom. I didn’t even get the chance to finish my martini.”
    An amused look replaced the worried one. “Hang around my bedroom? That’s what you call what we’ve been doing? Interesting choice of words.”
    “Well, I didn’t want to get into too much detail since apparently I talk too much.”
    “Ah, this is payback. Gottcha.” He untangled his legs from hers. Tracing a line from her forehead to her chin before briefly kissing her, he said, “If madam would like to join me in the kitchen, she can drink her martini while I finish up dinner, which will be served in about thirty minutes.”
    He sat up. She moved close to him, her fingers drawn to his back where she found even more scars, reluctant now to leave his bed even though she knew she had better do it while she could. “Okay, I’ll get dressed … ”
    “Aren’t you going to stay the night with me?” he asked.
    “Oh, I hadn’t thought … Are you asking me to stay?”
    He glanced back over his shoulder and grinned. “Yeah, I am. I want to see if you’re still so chatty in the morning. Call it a scientific experiment.”
    “How can I say no to science?”
    “Good. Then don’t get dressed.”
    “Dinner in the nude? You’re joking.”
    “Yes, I’m joking. My mother would find out and there’d be hell to pay. We weren’t even allowed to come to the dinner table bare chested, let alone bare naked.” He disappeared into a large walk-in closet as he spoke.
    Raising her voice so she was sure he could hear, she asked, “A — how would your mother find out? B — if I shouldn’t get dressed but we’re not eating in the nude … ?”
    He was wearing one terrycloth robe when he reappeared and holding another. “In answer to A, God knows how but she would find out. She has her ways. I’ve learned not to question them. As for B, here, wear this. I have multiples.”
    “For emergencies like this?” She took the robe, realizing when she wrapped it around herself that it was too big.
    “No, as you can tell, it’s my size, not yours. I have a weird aunt who gives my brother and me each a robe every year. Has ever since we were teenagers. We’ve tried to get her to stop but it hasn’t worked. Apparently she believes that males are very hard on robes and need to have them replaced annually. We usually donate them to a shelter but I haven’t cleaned out my closet in a while so I have a buildup in there.” He gestured to the now closed closet.
    Half an hour later, she’d finished her martini and he served dinner. She’d never eaten such an elegant meal dressed only in a robe. It was almost as good as the sex had been — the dinner, that is, not the robe. The coq au vin was delicious, as was the crusty French bread,