Barbara Dunlop - Overheated

He stared at her over the top of the vehicle. “That’s not the point.”

“What is the point?”

“Enjoying ourselves.”

“I enjoy cooking.”

“You’ll enjoy Delveccio’s more.” Larry ambled toward the rear door to liberate Rufus. “Fine wine, local specialties, international flare. The man was trained in Paris.”

“We can buy fine wine at the corner store.”

“Not the 1992 Le Comte Bordeaux.”

“Larry.” She sighed in frustration.

He glanced up. “What?”

“Let me win one, okay?”

His eyebrows drew together in puzzlement.

“An argument,” she elaborated.

“This is an argument?”

“Of course it’s an argument.”

He popped open the hatchback. “Wow. Your threshold for argument it pretty low.”

Rufus scooted out from beside the airline crate and plopped to the ground.

“What would you call it?” she asked.

“A discussion,” said Larry.

Fine. She wasn’t going to start a whole new argument over semantics. “You think you could maybe let me win a discussion once in a while.”

Larry grinned and slammed the door closed, while Rufus put his nose down to check out the lawn and the begonias. “Sure.”

“So, we’re eating in?”

“We can decide that later.”

Her free hand rose to her hip. “How exactly does that mean I win?”

Larry gave a shrug. “Well, I didn’t win.” His tone turned authoritative. “And there are two of us in this discussion. Logic dictates, that if it’s not X it must, therefore be Y.”

“And I’m Y?”

“In this equation, yes, you are.”

“Well, the answer didn’t go in Y’s favor.”

“We don’t know that yet.”

“It could just as easily go to X.”

Larry liberated her bag from her hand. “Now, this is an argument.” But his voice was mild, his expression unconcerned, as he turned and headed for the front door.

Crystal took a hop step to keep up with his longer legs on the stone pathway.

“You don’t have an answer for that, do you?” she challenged, even as she acknowledged her feeling of triumph was disproportional to the situation. “That’s why you walked away.”

He didn’t answer.

“Face it, Professor,” she continued. “I’m winning this discussion, and your ego’s feeling the pain.”

He inserted the key into the front door of the house. “You think this is about my ego?”

“I absolutely do.”

He opened the door wide and gestured for her to precede him. “Ever consider that I simply want you to enjoy a nice Bordeaux?”

She marched inside. “Not even for a second.”

Then her voice trailed away as her gaze caught on the plush furniture, the gleaming hardwood floors, fine oil paintings and massive windows overlooking a white sand beach and rolling azure waves.

She vaguely heard Larry set down the bags and close the door after Rufus followed them in. An air conditioner hummed gently in the background; otherwise the house was silent. It smelled of lemon polish and the fresh flower arrangements that sat on a rectangular table in the entryway and on the low coffee table nestled between two cream-colored couches in front of a stone fireplace.

“Wow.” she breathed, moving on autopilot toward the dining room to open a set of French doors that led to a wide, cedar deck. Rattan chairs with plump taupe cushions were placed around small redwood tables, while one end of the deck was dominated by a glass-topped dining table and a massive, stainless-steel barbecue.

Crystal nodded to the barbecue. “Any chance we can grill steaks tonight?”

“Sure,” said Larry from where he’d followed her outside.

She turned to contemplate his expression. “You gave in awfully easy on that.”

He moved up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her against the cradle of his body. “That’s because you really do want to barbecue. You’re not just offering to be polite.”

She nestled against him, trying to remember the last time she’d felt so secure in a man’s arms. Maybe never. There was something about Larry’s voice, his touch, his scent, that made her feel like she never wanted to leave his side.

He might not have any expectations of this weekend, but her expectations were growing by leaps and bounds. She couldn’t imagine anything nicer than spending a warm, romantic evening overlooking the Atlantic, followed by a night in a big, comfortable bed with Larry.

The strength of her desire surprised her. Sure, his kiss had been off the charts. But it was a pretty big leap from a first proper kiss to a night in bed.

She felt his lips touch the top of her head, kissing her, softly, gently, lingering there while he inhaled the scent of her shampoo. It was an undeniably sexy move.

She stayed still and silent, not wanting to break the mood. White foam burbled its way on shore; a few gulls danced above the scattered sailboats and yachts in the bay. By the beach on the far side, compact boutique hotels rose against the blue sky, while dots that were people milled about on the faraway sand.

There were houses on either side of them, but hedges and tall maple trees protected their privacy. A couple with a little white dog walked barefoot along the beach below, leaving footprints that were quickly obliterated by the waves.

Larry’s arms reflexively squeezed, and she covered his hands with her own. He leaned down and kissed her temple, then her cheek, then the shell of her ear. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, holding her close.

How many times had she heard that? How many times had some man waxed poetic about her face or her legs.

And how many times had she considered he might be talking about something more than her physical attributes?

Never.

But with Larry, she instinctively believed he’d seen past the golden ratio, past the physical beauty she’d always found to be more of a curse than a blessing. When he called her beautiful, he didn’t simply mean she’d impress his buddies, or turn the heads of strangers who watched them cross the dance floor, or that she’d look good in their photo Christmas card.

Her heart glowed warm with the compliment.

“Thank you,” she said simply.

They silently breathed in the fresh air, his chest rising in sync with hers. A breeze gusted against them, blowing her loose hair, while a gull called in the sky, swooping on the air currents.

Crystal settled more comfortably against Larry’s body. “What now?” she asked.

His pause was telling, and she hoped he was thinking the same thing as her. She screwed up her courage, getting ready to suggest they check out one of the bedrooms upstairs.

“WALK WITH ME?” LARRY ASKED in a gentle voice, even as he backed off and put an inch of space between them.

Crystal squelched her burgeoning fantasy. She was obviously getting away from herself on the romance front. They were staying in separate rooms, and he’d made it perfectly clear he was expecting a platonic weekend.

Maybe he wasn’t ready to move past his wife? He’d certainly made it clear that he’d loved her.

“Sure,” said Crystal.

He gave her a brisk rub on the upper arms before letting her go. Then he headed inside and retrieved the leash, calling to Rufus. He secured the sliding door and opened the low gate at the top of the staircase that led to the beach.

Crystal turned her attention to the strip of sculpted, white sand. An enthusiastic Rufus trotted down the narrow staircase in front of them.

The tide was high, and a few fluffy clouds made their way across the open blue sky. Crystal pulled off her sandals and dropped them on the bottom stair. She fluffed her hair and took a deep breath of the fresh air, while Rufus trundled, nose down, toward the pulsing foam.

“Should we keep him on the leash?” Larry asked as the dog investigated a bulb of yellow seaweed.

“I don’t think he’ll go far.”

There was no one else in sight. The couple with the white dog were long gone. Rufus trotted ahead on the wet sand, in the general direction of the town site. He found another scent trail, followed it for a few yards, then took off on a new tangent.

Larry stretched out his hand, capturing Crystal’s and twining their fingers together. She let herself sink into the silence of the sky and the gentle whoosh of the waves as they gradually relinquished their hold on the mushy sand.

“Ever been sailing?” Larry asked, his gaze going to the white flashes of sail far out in the bay and the bare masts rocking closer in at anchor.

“Recreational pursuits were never high on my parents’ list of priorities.”

“Yeah?”

She shook her head. “No picnics, no camping, no amusement parks.”

“What did you do on vacation?”

She listed off on her fingers. “Marketing trips, tool trade shows…”

“I hear you. I spent my formative years in NASCAR garages or at midget tracks.”

“Midget tracks?”

“That’s where Dean got started.” Larry smiled, but there was something other than joy in his eyes. “All racing, all the time.”

“Did you race?”

“Nope. I spent a lot of time in the pits with my nose in a textbook.”

Crystal paused, trying to picture Larry as a young boy, next to the toolboxes, fuel tanks and spare parts. “Was it hard?” she asked.

“I liked textbooks.”

“No. I mean, was it hard having your family focus exclusively on Dean’s dreams and not on yours?” At least Crystal had an ally in Amber. Amber had hated business trips, too.

“I didn’t need a pit crew, and I didn’t need to drive from town to town. I could do what I loved anywhere.”

“You know what I mean.”

Larry shrugged. “When you live in a NASCAR family, you live in a NASCAR family. And we love each other. We’re an extremely close family.”

Crystal felt her heart softening. “Still-”

“It was a long time ago,” he said.

“It wasn’t fair.”

He stopped, turned to face her, and cocked his head to one side. “Hey.”

“It wasn’t fair,” she repeated.

A grin grew on his face. “If life was fair, sweetheart, we’d be living in a whole different world.”

The endearment spurred the butterflies in her stomach.

Then a wet Rufus bounded up, shaking his fur and dropping a piece of driftwood at Larry’s feet.

Larry gamely reached down and tossed the stick into the waves. “See that? Rufus’s got his priorities straight.”

“Did you even feel pressured?” she asked as Rufus plunged into the surf.

“About what?”

“To go into racing.”

“You bet. Milo is practically a force of nature, and Juliana only wanted Milo to be happy. Together, they wanted me to race. It was hard to stick to my guns.” His expression turned thoughtful. “So, I was always careful to put as many choices as I could in front of Steve. And he decided he liked racing. Go figure.”

“I was a disappointment to my parents,” Crystal admitted.

“They wanted a boy to carry on the family business?”

She shook her head. “There are plenty of female machinists in the world. And they’d have settled for an accountant or a marketing manager.”

“But they got a creative writer.”

Crystal flicked her windblown hair away from her face, while Rufus made a neat turn in the waves, the stick clasped in his mouth. “Who moonlights delivering car parts.”

“What about Amber?”

“Amber got married and gave them grandchildren.”

“Another acceptable life pursuit?”

“Jennifer and David give them a whole new chance at an heir apparent. Though they wouldn’t complain if I produced a few more.”

Something changed in the timbre of Larry’s voice. “You going to?”

“Maybe,” said Crystal. She liked kids. And she could handle being both a mom and a writer. If she happened to find a man with a house and a good job, she could even move out of the apartment. “Know any guys who own real estate?”

“There are other options,” he pointed out, watching Rufus drop the stick at his feet.

“Such as?”

“You could set aside a little each month, find a nice starter, a good mortgage broker.”

“Is this going to be a math lecture, Professor Grosso?”

“More of a life lecture.”

She pushed away from him, wading into the cool water until she was ankle deep. “Oh, no you don’t. You’re not ruining my weekend with practicality. Let’s talk some more about sailing.”

“You want to take a spin around the bay?”

“I’m talking about a fantasy. I see a thatched hut, palm trees, a bright cotton dress and two very large blender drinks.”

“So, that’s your fantasy?”

“That’s my fantasy.” She sidled back up to him, grinning playfully. “What’s yours?”