Why did he invite her over to his place? What on Earth had come over him? Christ, Max was doped up in the back seat of his car, his house was a mess, and he barely knew the girl. He probably freaked her the hell out by even asking, and Jackson cursed himself as he looked back into the rearview mirror at her old Toyota following behind him.
There was a strange sense of excitement in his chest as they rounded the corner to their cul de sac. There was something that attracted him to her in a surprising way and he felt equal parts entranced by her, and like a dirty old man. The girl was over two decades younger than him, had a half-crippled mother to contend with, and was more timid than a skittish cat, but he couldn't seem to help himself. He wanted to crack open that shyness and see what was inside, to hear the things that she really had to say beyond polite conversation. Not to mention that delicious outfit she had on today.
He mentally cursed himself again. He couldn't think that way, not with someone so much younger. It was dirty and wrong. He was friends with her mother, for Christ's sake, and now he's attracted to her? Those curves, her smooth and glowing skin, her indifferent confidence, and her lips. The things he'd do with those lips...
He slapped himself on the side of the face and pulled into the driveway, watching as Aymie parked in her own driveway and then got out, leaving her paint stained apron in the car, and headed across the grass patch that divided their houses to meet him at the car. Jackson turned off the engine and hopped out, then opened up the back door to the car and hefted Max out as well, carrying him inside.
The door to his house was still slightly ajar from this morning so he nudged the door open with his knee, carrying Max in to his dog bed in the TV room and setting him down gingerly. He called over his shoulder for Aymie to make herself at home, then took her dirty afghan downstairs to throw into the laundry. He threw in a few towels of his own, set the washer to a quick wash, tossed in a soap pack, and started the wash. Then he turned and took the steps two at a time to get back upstairs to Aymie. When he came up, she was still standing in the doorway with her sandals kicked off by the door. She looked astonished.
"...This is...what your house looks like." She stated it matter-of-factly.
Jackson ran a hand through his hair. "Well yea. What, did you expect something else?"
"It's just so different from ours," she said, timidly stepping inside. "All the houses on this street look the same but...clearly they aren't"
Jack chuckled and led her into the kitchen, pulling out a chair for her to have a seat. Then he fetched two clean mugs from the cupboard and rummaged around for his tea bags.
"Let's see, I've got some green tea left...an orange and mint herbal blend...some Earl Grey..."
"Herbal sounds perfect." Aymie looked around nervously as he set the water to boil. "Are you sure you don't mind me hanging out? I don't want to intrude."
Jackson let out an exasperated laugh and turned to her, leaning against the counter. "Aymie, why would I have invited you if I didn't want you to be here?" He pulled out the chair opposite her and took an easy seat. "Take a breath. I'm not upset with you about what happened. I am more grateful than you could ever know, honey. So just relax, okay?"
That seemed to shift something in her, and Aymie slackened back in her chair a bit and allowed her shoulders to release down from her ears. A small smile came to her, those lush lips pulling up at the corners and she met his gaze and held it for longer than three seconds, which seemed to be a record for her.
"There now. Better?" he asked, teasing her.
She blushed. "Yea...better. Thanks." She looked around the kitchen then, admiring the interior design. "It really is beautiful. I love what you've had done."
Jack found himself looking around as well. "Thank you. The company I worked with did an excellent job of tailoring the place to my tastes."
"And what tastes are those?" she asked him, folding her hands atop the table.
That question made him tighten. "In regards to my interior design?" She nodded, and he continued, willing his head to clear. "Hmm, I like natural materials in as many ways as I can have them. Bamboo, balsa, willow, maple...woods that grow relatively quickly and have a variety of uses. That way it's not chopping down ten trees for what can be done with two. Make sense?"
Aymie nodded and he fetched their tea and mugs, handing hers to her. Their fingertips brushed as he passed the cup over and he swore he could feel it shock right up through his arm. What the hell was that?
"I really like the look of it all," she commented, steeping her tea. "There's a good energy in this house. Natural and bright and welcoming." She looked over. "Kind of like you. You make people feel comfortable. Or...well, at least you do for me." She blushed again and sipped.
Jack plopped his tea bag in his water and let it sit. "What's your house like?" he asked her, crossing one leg over his knee and shifting the conversation away from himself.
"Dirty, mostly." She chuckled once. "Mom and I aren't the cleanest people and it's mostly me that does all the cleaning and the tidying up." She set the mug down but kept her hands closed around it, adopting a more thoughtful look. "There's a lot of clutter, but I don't mind it most of the time. It's bright in there too. I like to have the windows open."
He tilted his head and regarded her closely. "What is it like?"
"What's what like?"
