Pen Pal

We eat breakfast at his place, then he follows me back home in his truck.

When we get to the house, he insists on going inside and checking everything out before letting me in. “Better safe than sorry,” he says, leaning in the open driver’s-side window of my car. “Keys?”

I hand them to him. “I don’t know if I locked it, though. I ran out in a pretty big hurry.”

He nods, then straightens and walks up the path to the front door.

Watching him standing there trying the handle, I suffer a moment of cognitive dissonance.

Only last month, it would have been Michael standing in his place. My charming, outgoing husband with his starched white dress shirts, polished black oxfords, and slacks with the crisp leg seams. He was meticulous about his grooming, never leaving the house without a hair out of place or the faintest shadow of a beard on his jaw.

And forget about tattoos. The sight of needles made Michael queasy. Every single year when he went to get his flu shot, he nearly passed out in the doctor’s office.

Aidan is almost his exact opposite. I doubt I could’ve picked someone more different than Michael if I tried.

Aidan turns then and looks back at me, waiting anxiously in my car. He lifts his chin and disappears through the front door, leaving it open behind him.

Ten minutes later, he appears in the doorway and gestures for me to come in.

Apprehensive, I hurry up the path in my bare feet. At least it’s not pouring down rain today, but I’m still shivering from cold.

The sky overhead is the same dull gray of Michael’s coffin.

“Anything?” I ask when I reach Aidan.

“All clear. Come inside.”

I walk into the foyer, hugging my arms around myself. I’m wearing Aidan’s big black sweatshirt, the arms rolled halfway up so they’re even with my wrists. A pair of my shoes are under the console table. I shove my feet into them, not bothering to tie the laces.

Aidan says, “Everything was locked. No signs of a break-in. I checked upstairs, too.”

I’m relieved but also feel silly, seeing how I ran from the house as if I were being chased by demons. My overactive imagination is getting the best of me.

“Great. Thank you.”

“No problem.”

“Why are you smiling like that?”

“Oh, nothing. I just think you’re really good at drawing, that’s all.”

I don’t know what he means for a moment. When it hits me, I roll my eyes. “You were in my office.”

“Had to check the windows.”

“You checked a few other things, too, I guess.”

He reaches out and tugs on the sleeve of his sweatshirt, pulling me toward him. Then he wraps me in his arms and grins down at me. “I think that pet rabbit the little boy has is really cute.”

I smile. “Yeah, I bet you do.”

“So you’re an artist?”

“Illustrator. Children’s books mostly, though I do the occasional calendar and magazine piece.”

He leans down and gently presses his lips to mine. “You’re crazy fucking talented, Kayla.”

That compliment makes me feel as if gravity has ceased to exist, and the only reason I’m still tethered to the earth is that his arms are wrapped around my body. “Thank you.”

“Aw. Look at my bashful little bunny with her red cheeks.”

“Shut up before I kick you in the shin.”

Chuckling, he leans down and kisses me again. “Bashful and bitchy. My two favorite things.”

“Call me bitchy again and we’ll see how far you can walk with a ruptured spleen.”

He tries to muffle the sound of his laughter by pressing his face to the side of my neck.

I shove against his chest half-heartedly. “Jerk.”

“You don’t think I’m a jerk,” he says softly, then kisses me again, this time more deeply.

No, I admit to myself as his tongue delves into my mouth. No, sir, I do not.

We kiss until both of us are breathing hard and the little pulse of heat between my legs has grown into an ache. Then the guilt swamps me again, and I pull away, pressing my fingers to my lips.

Aidan searches my face. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

When I refuse to meet his eyes, he takes my chin in his hand and tilts my head up so I’m forced to look at him.

“What is it?”

My mouth has turned dry. I moisten my lips and swallow. “I’m feeling a bit…” I clear my throat. “Uncomfortable.”

He seems surprised. “With me?”

“With doing this in my house.”

After a brief pause, he says, “Okay.” Then he steps back, releasing me.

“Oh God. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

“No, I get it.”

He can’t possibly get it, but I give him points for trying. “It’s just that it was very recent. My separation from my husband.” I clear my throat again. “And I keep expecting him to walk in the door at any minute. It’s just weird for me. I’m sorry.”

“You can stop apologizing,” he says softly. “I said it’s okay.”

Cringing, I wring my hands together. “I know, but I can tell it’s not, and now I feel like a dick.”

“You’re not a dick. I’d kiss you again, but I don’t want to make it weirder for you than it already is. So here’s the deal: I’m gonna call my buddy Jake, who owns a security company. He’s gonna come out and set you up with an alarm. In the meantime, I’ve got a meeting I need to get to, but after, I’m gonna get to work on that leak.”

He nods toward the kitchen and the buckets on the floor. “I won’t be able to start repairs until we get a break in the weather lasting more than a few days, but I’ll put up a tarp on the roof to stop more water from coming in and remove any wet insulation from the attic so you don’t get a mold problem. Okay?”

“Yes. Okay. Thank you. Oh, let me go get my checkbook—”

“One more fucking word,” he cuts in, “and you earn yourself a spanking.”

Startled, I stare at him. There’s no smile on his face, no trace of humor.

He’s completely serious.

I say tentatively, “Can I ask a question?”

He nods.

“Is it the checkbook I shouldn’t be talking about, or did you just want me to be quiet in general?”

He presses his lips together and folds his arms over his chest. Now I can tell he’s trying to keep a straight face. He’s also trying to be intimidating, and he’s pretty much failing at both things.

He says sternly, “What I meant is that I’m not taking your money.”

“But we agreed—”

“One more word,” he interrupts again, this time quite loudly.

Mirroring his posture, I fold my arms over my chest and stare him down. “I didn’t have sex with you to get free roof repairs, Aidan.”

“No shit, Kayla. I’m still not taking your money.”

“Is this one of those macho man ego things? Do you really think I’m being emasculating by expecting to pay you for your time and expertise?”

“Yes and yes.”

I say flatly, “That’s nuts.”

He unfolds his arms, leans down into my face, and stares into my eyes. “Thanks for sharing your opinion on the subject. That’s the last time you get to do it. Mention money to me again, and you know what you’ve got coming.”

When I only stand there staring at him, he prompts, “Acknowledge that you know what you’ve got coming.”

“Why?”

“It’s called consent.”

I say haughtily, “I don’t consent to a spanking over money.”

“Don’t mention it again, and you won’t get one.”

“Remember when I told you I liked it when I wasn’t being irritated?”

Ignoring that, he adds, “But if you do mention it again, I’m considering you warned and fully informed of the consequences, regardless of whether or not you claim not to want it.”

I make a screwy face. “I think your logic is flawed.”

“How nice for you. Doesn’t change a thing.” He turns on his heel and heads toward the front door.

“Where are you going? We’re in the middle of a conversation!”

Over his shoulder, he says, “Not anymore, we’re not.”

“Get back here right now, or you’re the one who’ll get the damn spanking!”

Chuckling, he disappears out the front door.

An hour later, Jake the security guy shows up. He’s cut from the same cloth as Aidan: big, brawny, lumberjack-y. He even has forearm tattoos and a beard, too, though his is a lighter shade of brown and has a few streaks of silver in it. I let him in and show him around. We end up in my office.

“Piece of cake,” he says confidently. “Where do you want the smart hub?”

“I have no idea what that is.”

“It ties all your devices together and acts as the nerve center of your security system.”

When I stare at him blankly, he continues.

“We’re going to connect your alarm, security cameras, and doorbell camera to a wireless hub that controls everything and interfaces with your smart phone so you can do it remotely.”

Hub? Cameras? Remote control? I start to get nervous. “That sounds expensive.”

Jake grins knowingly. The bright pink piece of gum he’s chewing sticks out from between two molars. “Aidan said that if you mentioned money, I’m supposed to tell you that you know what happens.”

My face flames. I say acidly, “Did he now?”

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. Just doin’ my job here.”

His tone is light and there’s a distinct twinkle in his eye. I am so going to kill Aidan the next time I see him.

“How about if we just set up a basic security thingy where I, like, punch in a code to arm the alarm?”

Jake makes a face at me as if I just insulted his mother.

“Seriously, I don’t need cameras and all that other stuff. I just want an alarm to sound if someone breaks in.”

“But you should have cameras so if someone does break in, you got it on video. It won’t help the police very much if they can’t identify the perp.”

All this talk of perps and break-ins is starting to unsettle me. I say, “Maybe we should just forget the whole thing.”

Jake laughs. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”

I’m taken aback by that. “Why not?”

“Because Aidan says you’re getting a security system. Which means, like it or not, you’re getting a security system.”

“I see.”

“Yeah.” He chews his gum and eyeballs me as if he wants to say something, but doesn’t think he should.

“What?”

“Nothing. Not my business.”

“Uh-huh. Except your face thinks it is. Spit it out, Jake.”

He debates with himself for a moment, then says, “You seem like a nice girl.”

“Yikes. That sounds bad.”

He holds up a hand. “Hear me out. And do me a favor and don’t repeat this, okay?”

I nod, anxiety blooming in my stomach.

“I’ve been friends with Aidan since high school—”

I cut in, “If you’re about to tell me he’s a flagrant womanizer, I really don’t want to hear it.”

“No, that’s not what I was going to say.”

“Good.”

He cocks his head and frowns at me. “But if he was, you wouldn’t want to know?”

“Like you said, it’s not my business.”

He makes another face, and now I’m beginning to get exasperated.

“What now?”

“Just never met a woman who wouldn’t want to know if she was getting involved with a skirt chaser is all.”

“Fine. Is he a skirt chaser?”

“No.”

I throw my arms in the air. “You’re killing me! Get to the point already.”

“Okay, look. I’ll be straight with you. Aidan doesn’t get close to people. Doesn’t trust them.”

His pause seems meaningful. I say, “And…?”

“He’s had a rough time pretty much his whole life.”

When he stops and snaps his gum, I think I know what he’s getting at, and my cheeks grow hot again.

“Are you suggesting that I’m taking advantage of him? Because I specifically told him that I would pay for everything—”

“He likes you,” he interrupts, his voice low. “And Aidan doesn’t like anybody.” He glances pointedly at my ring finger, then meets my eyes again. “I don’t want to see him get hurt.”

After a beat where my brain resets itself and my heart melts, I say softly, “I like him, too. And I’m not going to hurt him, Jake. I promise.”

He gives his gum a few doubtful grinds with his molars.

I wonder what Aidan said to him about me, but I won’t ask. Jake wouldn’t tell me, anyway. He’s a loyal friend, and there’s the man code and all that. I’m lucky I even got this much out of him.

“Listen. I suggest a compromise. How about if you install something that isn’t FBI-level surveillance, but also isn’t bare bones. I won’t be able to figure out anything too sophisticated, but I also don’t want you to have to deal with Aidan’s wrath if he doesn’t approve, so let’s shoot for somewhere between James Bond and Inspector Clouseau. Can we do that?”

He blows a bubble, pops it, then grins at me. “We can do that.”

I stick out my hand, and we shake on it.

Which is when I happen to glance over Jake’s shoulder out my office window and notice someone standing in the yard, down near the water’s edge.

Partially hidden by the trunk of a tree, the figure appears to be a man. Though he’s too far away to discern any facial features, and his eyes are obscured by the brim of the hat he’s wearing, I have the distinct feeling that he’s staring right at me.

I catch a glint of white as the man bares his teeth like an animal.

A gust of wind whistles down the chimney. Goose bumps form on my arms. A shiver of fear runs through my body, chilling me to my bones.

“I’ll get my equipment from the truck and get to work,” says Jake.

I glance in his direction as he walks out of the room. When I turn back to look out the window, the man by the tree is gone.