Page 62 of Now and Then

“Yeah, live here for a few weeks while she’s gone.”

“I thought you said you’d be fine at your place. Is the cot in your room not working out?” Try as she might, there’s no hiding the nervous edge to her voice.

“Sure, if I don’t mind living under a few inches of sawdust. And I’ve had enough with the sawing and banging.” I pull two plates from the cabinet. Having eaten in this kitchen since I was a kid, I know where everything is.

Sutton grabs napkins and silverware. “Don’t they have some kind of vacuum or something so they don’t make a mess of the entire house?” Her bracelets jingle with each movement.

“Normally, yes, but theirs broke mid-job, and they kept going.” I take the napkins from her hands. “Why don’t you go change, and I’ll get the rest of dinner ready?”

Sutton’s a creature of habit. I know the first thing she enjoys after getting home is showering off the day. I try not to picture that part for too long.

Only ten minutes later, she reenters the kitchen. “It smells so good,” she says.

Her face is now clean of makeup, and her curls are free from the confines of her bun. She’s wearing black leggings and thick socks along with my old gray hoodie. She notices me noticing her and looks down at her toes.

Someday, she’s going to stop looking away.

“Sit,” I command, tossing my beanie on the side counter. “Food’s getting cold.”

We eat in almost total silence, each of us too famished to stop shoving our faces with steak and potatoes. After we finish—like always—we work side by side getting the dishes and kitchen cleaned while rehashing our days.

“I’m sorry I didn’t offer you Luke’s room earlier.”

I nudge her arm with my elbow. “Sure you are.”

Her eyebrows furrow. “I feel bad now. I should have thought of that. It’s like we’re short on extra rooms over here.”

“You’ve had a lot on your mind. Luke did offer his place.”

Our eyes meet at the same time, and we burst out laughing.

“You wouldn’t have gotten any sleep over there,” she says through a fit of giggles.

“Isn’t that the truth,” I say, gathering a soda pop. “Want to watch a movie or something?” I head toward the living room.

She plops into the corner of the couch and makes gimme hands at the blanket I dug out of the basket for her. I hand her the blanket and remote.

“There’s this new detective show that I’ve been . . .” Sutton stares directly at my exposed stomach as I slowly pull my hoodie over my head. I toss it at her face, jolting her from her stupor.

She catches it and sets it next to her on the couch. “I—um, what was I saying?”

“Something about a lame cop show.” I toe my boots off, grab my own blanket, and sit next to her.

“C’mon, Hunt.” She rolls her eyes. “It’s supposed to be good. You can keep your judgments of how fake it is to yourself.”

I zip my lips and sink deeper into the couch as she cues up the show. It won’t matter how bad the show is because I’ll be snuggled up with her.

Hours later, she’s asleep, her head in my lap. I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sutton?” I whisper.

She mumbles and tucks her hand beneath her cheek. I groan when it comes precariously close to my dick.

“Sutton?” I whisper again, louder this time.

“What do you want, Hunter?” she mumbles.

I pull her blanket over her shoulder. “Where’s the remote?”

“Under my butt cheek.” She lifts her hips, and I dig my hand underneath her warm body to find the remote. I click to the next episode and return my arm under the blanket, curling my hand around her hip.