“John, you’re wrong; women are
not
more devious than men.”
“It’s a proven fact, Baby. Remember, I’m not referring to you personally.”
Lori tossed her head and tried not to show her amusement. This was a running argument between herself and John. Well, not an argument, they never argued—just a difference of opinion. After all, they’d only been living together for two months.
“Give me a ‘for instance’?” Lori insisted, as she started to clear the breakfast table.
“This is a no-win situation for me,” he stood up, stretched, and took his own plate over to the counter, “Okay. A ‘for instance’; my mother would get mad at my father for working on his research papers instead of paying attention to her.”
“So?”
“So instead of telling him to what she was thinking or that he was ticking her off she waited until he was taking his hot shower and then she ran the dishwasher and the clothes washer. I remember seeing her standing in the hall as she listened to him in there yelling and cursing when he ran out of hot water and she’d smile. Afterward she’d say to him in the sweetest, most loving voice ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, Jack, I don’t know what I was thinking’ and what’s worse the old man bought it.”
Lori burst into the familiar peals of laughter that always made John want to pick her up, throw her over his shoulder and head for the bedroom and she added,
“I’ll have to remember that.”
“That’s one of the reasons I think we should always shower together, baby, I’m distrustful. Speaking of that, I ran 8 miles this morning, I could use a shower now,” he pulled her to him lustfully, one hand cradling the back of her head, his fingers laced in her thick copper colored hair.
“I thought you had that project today,” Lori teased. She could afford to be coy; John had already awakened her in the night for some dedicated lovemaking.
“You’re right; I was hoping to work on the gazebo,” John’s lips hovered over hers, inflaming her as always, “But I can rearrange my time for a long shower, baby, I’m distrustful, but flexible.”
On the other hand, Lori considered, she wanted that gazebo ready for the cookout they were planning soon. John could feel her cool down.
“You said it would take up the whole weekend,” she reminded him.
“Well, then what’s on the agenda today?” he shrugged, reluctantly releasing her.
“I’m just going to run in to the post office and the drugstore. You can proceed with your assignment, full speed ahead.”
John rubbed his hand on his furry chest in a lazy way,
“I’m still going to shower before I start. All by myself, I guess.”
He looked down at her suspiciously,
“Where will you be?”
Laughing enticingly again, Lori walked to the dishwasher and closed it,
“Don’t worry, it’s not full.”
John glanced down at her slim bare legs below her very tight, very brief shorts and came over to her, putting his arms around her waist,
“I’ll be awfully lonesome in that shower.”
“You’re a broken record. I already had my shower—I’m leaving for the post office,” she patted his cheek and slipped out of his arms as she headed to the front room for her handbag and the mail, her hips swinging.
John had promised to have Lori's swing-laden gazebo finished by her birthday cook out the following weekend. Carpentry was a hobby and he was very good at it. With the proper motivation, it wasn't long before he had his tools aligned to begin the job. Still, he dawdled. Between the high Carolina cloudless sky and the gentle breeze that would cool him off were he on the lake, the boat in the boathouse below seemed to be calling his name. The mid July sun beat down on his back as he worked, and he had the CD player blasting out Bruce Springsteen—
Dancin’ In The Dark
. Music from when he was in high school. Twenty-five year old stuff. Lori was almost ten years younger and she kidded him about his "old man music" as she called it, although she loved The Boss.
Returning home, Lori put away the stamps from the post office and the few things she picked up from the store. It was clear they would be staying home this afternoon, maybe go to a movie later tonight. But for now she had nothing to do. Scrap-booking didn’t appeal to her and she’d done yard work all day yesterday. No use making the 40 minute drive to her best friend Bonnie’s if she and John were to go out later. Besides, John didn’t like her to be gone on the weekends much. Now that she had practically ordered him to work on the gazebo they wouldn’t be going out on the boat. Maybe he’d like a cold drink. She plucked a cold beer from the fridge for him. It was nearing noon and the oppressive heat smote her in the face as soon as she opened the sliding glass door and sauntered out to where he was working. John had peeled off his t-shirt and sweat gleamed on his darkly tanned shoulders and back as he squatted over his work. Lori surveyed him with a sudden hunger. He had such a nice ass, tight and yet rounded. It was curious how the man you loved hop-scotched in your eyes from a bud you could giggle with over stupid movies and bad jokes, to the loafer you had to beat with a stick to take out the garbage and back again to hottie of the year. He looked up at her briefly, completely unaware of her libidinous longings and then returned his attention to the work at hand but asked,
“Hey, Sugarpuss. Did you get everything you wanted?”
“Pretty much. How’s it going?”
“Just fine. By the end of this weekend I should have a lot done. I could work until dark, but I know you want to do something later so I’ll just work on this for a few hours today and then work all day tomorrow.”
“I brought you something cold.”
“Mmm, good. Thanks.”
Taking the sweating can from her he took a long swig and then set it aside.
Lori glanced over at his tools laid out precisely in pockets and crannies of a leather apron on the picnic table and spied a steel retractable tape measure like her father’s. Her dad always called his a yo-yo. John was very organized with his tools like her father, too.
“Do you call this a yo-yo?”
“What?”
“Never mind.”
“Are you using directions for this or a blueprint or something?” she questioned him with a frown.
“There’s a Time-Life book over there on the table with plan for a gazebo pretty much like this one, no swing, but I found plans over on another page for a swing, and I’m modifying it,” John told her without looking up from his work.
“Is that okay to do?” Lori wondered out loud, perusing the book idly and then she gazed at him.
John gave her one of his penetrating looks that usually quenched her desire for further conversation,
“It is if you know what you’re doing.”
He got the measuring tape out and used it, marking places on the wood and then set it down nearby.
“Want me to put it back for you?” Lori asked; eager to be of help, “I know where it goes.”
“No, I need to use it every so often right now.”
Lori, unable to remain silent any longer in spite of John’s earlier unspoken rebuke, asked one or two more questions, but John’s answers were brief so she gave up and simply sat on the picnic table watching him intently and in silence for a time. For some reason she felt at loose ends. She had baked Wednesday and Friday so there were plenty of goodies in the house already. Her housework was caught up, even the laundry. At last she ventured another question,
“Are you hungry?”
“Hmmm, not right now, but supper’s a long time off, I might come and get something in an hour or so. What time is it?”
“Just about noon, I think. Okay, well, just get me when you come in and I’ll fix you something.”
“Sounds good.”
Getting down from the table she crouched beside John a moment, literally looking over his shoulder. She observed closely, her arms wrapped around her knees; then studied his face fondly, having nothing better to do. Feeling her gaze John looked over at her and winked, then stood up and turned to the table to get something. He was frankly hoping she was not going to stick by his side like a burr while he worked. The nearness of her was most distracting, making it all but impossible to concentrate, and now that he had started he really wanted to work on the gazebo this afternoon. Her tanned legs and soft scent were beginning to melt his resolve. John looked at the page in the Time-Life book as if he were studying it and considered what he could say to make her get the hell back in the house without hurting her feelings. She was still sitting on her heels where he had been working, her back to him, when she shot a fleeting look at him over her shoulder. John came back and resumed his labors.
“Well, I guess I’ll go in now,” Lori cheerfully announced out of the blue, standing up, “It’s so hot. I think I’ll read my mystery for a while.”
“Okay, baby,” John answered with relief.
With that, she strolled back to the cabin, humming to herself. Something about this behavior struck John as odd and he glanced back up at her in time to see her go in the sliding glass door. She shut it and stood at the door staring intensely out at him a moment. Then she turned and disappeared. He couldn’t figure out exactly why he thought that was peculiar, but he did. Throwing it off, he continued to work methodically until he needed to use the measuring tape again; it seemed to have gone missing. He picked up different items thinking he might have laid something on top of it. Swearing softly he went and checked the tool apron to see if he’d returned it there by mistake and then he stopped and looked back at the cabin speculatively. He could hear a speedboat buzzing by on the lake and the slightest puff of a breeze rustled the pine trees at the edge of the yard and cooled him momentarily.
She had it all right. John started up to the cabin and when he got to the deck he peered in through the glass door before he opened it. The southern sun was glaring against the glass and he shaded his eyes, looking through the dining area into the front room. Lori was slouched sideways across his old armchair, seemingly engrossed in her paperback. Her back was against one arm of the chair, and one leg was hooked over the other chair arm, foot in the air. Sprawled there, none too ladylike, she appeared totally relaxed, but John noticed her foot bounced up and down nervously.
