16. Keats

16

KEATS

T his woman has me in a chokehold.

I'm falling, or maybe I always have been, using our arguments as a ruse.

Stretching my arms, I yawn as I step down the stairs, the golden sun filling my house with light and the smell of bacon tingling my nose. To be honest, I'm still tired from this weekend, but this morning it's due to having Esme in my bed and our ability to mix adrenaline with sex to create a long night of epic proportions. We were supposed to sleep.

Arriving at the dining table, I pause, and my head lolls to the side as I study the head of the table. There's a plate with a folded newspaper resting on top of it. Cutlery nicely placed around the plate. There are those croissants from a canned roll of dough on a platter with a napkin underneath. Is that freshly squeezed orange juice?

Esme sings to herself. I hear her in the kitchen, and I guess we haven't actually slept overnight with one another until this weekend. This is her normal morning routine?

"You're up. Great, I was going to wake you for breakfast." Esme whizzes by me carrying a plate. She's wearing one of my work shirts and nothing else. My head tips a little more to get a view. Oh wait, there is a thong… I think.

Scratching my cheek, I'm trying to adjust to the scene. "Uh, what's this?"

She looks up to me with a bright smile as she sets the bacon down and adjusts the syrup bottle. "It's breakfast."

I slowly walk to my chair. "I can see that. It's just a little formal, don't you think?"

She is quick to meet me halfway and grabs my wrist to guide me faster to my seat. "Well, I remembered you mentioned about your Sunday paper and wanted to make sure you have a nice breakfast… a thank-you, really."

Smirking to myself, I feel a discussion coming. "Here I was thinking this is the new standard." I sit down.

Esme playfully pinches my arm before landing on her chair. "I just figured this is the least I could do." She begins to pour me coffee from the French press.

"I have a damn good machine in the kitchen."

She shrugs her shoulders. "But this is more fitting for the setting. It's all about atmosphere."

I sputter a laugh. "How am I to argue with the woman who literally has a room for her boudoir atmosphere."

Her smile remains but fades. "Well, it will be a while until it can be used again. It's okay, I have a lot of engagement shoots coming up, luckily." Her lips press together, and it's apparent she's soaking in her own mixed emotions. "So many things gone." Her voice trembles, but then she takes a deep breath through her nostrils and her eyes drift to the side. "I know it's only material, but still, a house can be your home, and now my home is like a piece of burnt toast." She deflates.

"Sourdough toast?" The corner of her mouth tugs weakly from my wit. Blowing out a deep breath, I know that I can't keep reiterating the obvious that all those things are items, but there is only one her. "You're here, and you're safe," is what I manage to come up with, and it's the truth.

Her eyes flick up to meet mine, and they're brimming with appreciation, and my heart constricts for a second, a warning perhaps. She's in front of me, in my home, in my shirt, and we're sharing breakfast. It's domesticated, and all that comes to mind is that this is the image that I can and want to get accustomed to.

"I'm safe because I'm here. Which brings me to our next point." Her serious thought is broken by her fingers snapping in the air. "Wait, I forgot to ask if you take sugar or milk in your coffee. I don't actually know. No, it's black, right? I recall mentioning that it's dark as your soul." She frowns in embarrassment.

"Memory lane, eh? And yes, black is fine."

Esme blows out a relieved exhale, and she seems to be psyching herself up. "So, our next item of discussion."

"For someone who makes fun of me for working too much, I wish to highlight that you seem to have a meeting agenda on a Sunday."

Her head bobs side to side. "It's just, if I'm going to be staying here for a little bit…" She holds her palm up. "I mean, it can't be that long. The insurance guy will give me more insight tomorrow."

"We need to get that policy clear as day, by the way."

She gives me a peculiar look. "Now who is Mr. Business?"

I place a croissant on her plate before setting one on my own. "I'm a lawyer. It's logical that I think of these things."

She gives up and sighs. "You perhaps have a point. Okay, it's just, while I'm here, I want you to continue your normal routine, and I will contribute where I can. I'm sure we both have our own schedules. "

"We do. My days are long, which means we keep it to one round at night so I can have a good night's sleep."

Her laugh sounds good the way it bounces off the walls of my home. "Agreed… I'm really thankful. The moment this is too much then say the word, I can get out of your hair."

I don't bother looking at her as I butter my croissant. "It's all good." No, really.

"Well then…" Our eyes meet, and fresh air floats between us as we enter new territory together.

A few weeks ago, we were ready to throttle one another. Now? I can't get enough of her, and I'm convinced she feels the same. I didn't need to demand for her to stay yesterday, she was already on the cusp of gluing her feet to the floor.

Our soft, near giddy, smiles seem to stay permanent as we continue to eat our breakfast, and that feels too natural.

"What do you normally do on a Sunday?" I wonder.

"Often have a shoot, but by luck, the couple called Friday afternoon to reschedule." She speaks with her mouth full as it seems that she is famished.

An idea comes to me because all of my defenses to make her life miserable vanished and now I only want to do things to make her happy. "Want to head to Lake Spark for dinner at the Dizzy Duck Inn?"

Fondness appears on her face. "Ooh, that sounds good. But I noticed I need to go to the grocery store, as someone lives off of, well, protein bars and coffee? I'm surprised you had a roll of croissant dough and some bacon that is nearly at the expiration date."

Laughing to myself, I have to point out the obvious. "As much as I can say that it's the bachelor life, it's not. At work, we get meals since there is a chef for the players and most of the staff arrive early. Then often, I just BBQ with the guys or something. "

"Makes sense. I would say you're welcome to come with me to the store, but that might be too tame for us."

"Actually, it's cool. I will tag along. No offense, but your coffee is only tolerable. We can grab a coffee from Foxy Rox."

"Deal. Oh, and I started a bunch of laundry to get the smell of smoke out from all of my clothes that were upstairs in my house. Hope you don't mind." Esme tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

My lips quirk out, and I shake my head. "Not a problem. Want to head out soon?"

"Perfect."

Esme stands to take her plate away but seems to be stalled on her feet. "This is kind of weird, right? I mean, the way everything is transpiring?"

Licking my lips, I do all I can to suppress my smile, as I want to play it cool. "Apparently, the key was sourdough bread and a fire to scoot us along to something else."

"I guess so."

Our eyes linger for a good beat before the corners of her mouth jerk up, and she disappears into the kitchen.

My face collapses into my hands. What the fuck? Why are these feelings that I have for her unfolding so fast and rolling down a hill with nothing in the way to stop them?

Blowing out a breath, I push it all to the side and decide to just sway with the Sunday flow.

Esme and I sit across from one another at a small table outside Foxy Rox along the window, with coffee for me, tea for her, and a giant piece of peanut butter cake to share.

"See? The grocery store can be fun if you venture into several aisles. Take your time to explore the objects on the shelf. You will now actually have all the basis of the food group pyramid in your house." Esme seems proud of herself.

I have to grin, as we have constantly joked with one another for the last two hours. The supermarket with her was purely hilarious. She debated which type of apples to buy, spent ten minutes in the cereal aisle, questioned if a tub of Greek yogurt should accompany the berries, and stocked the hell up on jars of pesto. When we reached the paper towels, then it was full-on like we were an old couple shopping together.

"You're right. I needed your wizard skills all along. I will no longer be a victim of choosing the wrong can of nuts or carton of milk."

She points her fork at me. "Oat milk is all the rage."

Stretching my arms over my head, I take in the fact that I haven't had a Sunday this laidback in a long time. "Sure. But your music tastes could be improved. Let's establish the whoever drives picks the music rule."

She scowls, but then it eases. "Fine."

My eyes lower to a table nearby where a giant dog with golden-brown fur is lying on the ground near a bowl of water that the café has for dogs. "Damn, he's gorgeous."

Esme glances over her shoulder to get a peek. "Wow, he is. I wish the fireman that came had a dog. Fire dogs are a thing, right? I was deprived a hot fireman and a cute dog, damn it."

I throw her the death stare. "Whoa there, cowgirl, you might want to take that back."

She smiles at me. "Only the fire dog part."

Quickly, I ask the couple what type of dog he is, and it's a golden retriever mixed with a Newfoundland dog. "I don't have time for a dog, but he would be a good contender if I did."

"Ah, so you are a dog person. Your soft soul is almost too sweet," Esme teases.

Shaking my head, I take the last sip of my coffee, but I don't want this all to end. "I think it's really good that you are not in complete misery after the fire."

Her smile slips away. "Well, I don't have much choice. In the end, I'm alive, right?"

The moment turns serious, but perhaps it should. "Still, you lost a kitchen, half of your living room, and pictures. It can't be easy."

She rolls a shoulder back. "My only option is to be optimistic. But it does hurt to have had this happen."

"That's a feeling you are allowed to have."

She sighs, and her eyes zip up to mine, not blinking once. "You were quite adamant that I didn't run in… Thank you."

I don't enjoy the constant thank-yous. "It was nothing. I'm sure you would have done the same for me."

"I guess I would have," she admits. Her fingers weave through her hair. "I'm sorry I was a pain in the ass the past few months."

The line of my mouth stretches. "I think I win the prize for being the resident jerk. The number of times I stormed across my yard by far outdoes your times."

Esme shrugs. "Flirtation does silly things to people. I wonder who won the neighborhood betting pool?"

I laugh under my breath. "Probably Oliver."

"I think so too." That unusual silence returns to us. "We are not labeling anything, are we? I mean, anyone could walk down Main Street right now and see that you and I are… together?" Her voice rises an octave.

I lean into the table and onto my arms. "That's not a problem for me, is it for you?" No man gets to look at her the way I do. Nobody gets to think she needs a man and needs to be set up with someone. We might be in the oddest situation, but I was right the other week, and I don't share. I make claims.

"Not a problem for me, either." Her wide smile is do damn infectious; how can I not join her on that? She reaches across the table to touch my hand. "Want to head back to your place to drop the groceries off? I might have an idea."

My brow rises and my interest is piqued. "Oh yeah?"

She stands up and offers me her hand. "I'm going to go pay, and I'll meet you at the car."

"Not a chance. I'm a gentleman."

"And you're being kind by providing me a roof."

I yank her back when her feet move. "Trust me, my overtime billable hours for the Spinners mean I have money to spare on a thousand coffees."

Her eyes pop out. "Someone is conceited. But fine, I won't argue and will instead go wait in your expensive car that I only sometimes hate."

"Good."

She stands on her toes to give me a quick kiss.

I can't believe that I've been missing out on this, being tied down to someone. Or it's just Esme. But lucky me, I have her now.

"Is this why you like wildflowers?" I ask as we walk along the clearing amongst the tall grass, making our way to a creek that I hear.

Esme has a wry smile as she leads the way. "Maybe. They are rustic and spontaneous. There is no logic to why they pop up where they are. Anything purple and white are my favorite."

"I don't believe that I've ever been out this way." It's picturesque.

She glances over her shoulder with a knowing look. "Because someone here struggles to stop and actually take a breath from work. Enjoy the quiet, will you?"

"Silence doesn't exist around you," I retort, but her smile brightens. "What is this place, exactly? Is this where you end my life and nobody can find the body?"

She grabs my wrist and leads as we arrive at the destination—an old pick-up truck with a stack of hay and overgrown grass close by and the creek in the background. I smile at the setting.

"It's where I do most of my photoshoots. There is a footbridge up there after the tree line, too. Even an old, broken-down water wheel on a mill." She indicates with her head. "It isn't private land, just not many people are aware of this place. At sunset, the light is amazing."

I circle in spot to truly examine the scene, and this is full-on prairie. Following her cue, I join her sitting on the back edge of the truck with our feet dangling.

"To be honest, as much as it is uplifting to take photos of couples heading toward forever, sometimes it's confronting."

"How so?"

She hums a sound. "I guess… life is good, except for my neighbor from hell." Esme bumps my arm with hers and smirks. "But life is just a movie. Fire aside, nothing is so wrong, and for many, they might think it's boring. Great friends, simple days. I haven't had much thought about the future, and maybe I should have. Lately, there have been little cracks that cause me to question life."

I adjust my body and lean back on my arms. "I can relate. I haven't had much need to think past tomorrow in my personal life."

"Aren't we boring people."

"Nah, we're just like half of the adult population."

She lowers her sight to me, with her lips slanted to one side. "We should be the other half."

"Okay, then what do you see in your future?"

Esme thinks for a moment. "It's a blur except for flowers."

"I guess I need to get you another bouquet since my first effort was incinerated, just the way we used to be with one another."

"Used to be? Other than me now t emporarily living with you, time will tell if our armistice will hold. I saw you leave a dish in the sink," she warns.

I laugh. "If that's the biggest concern, then we're doing okay."

She gently shoves me. "But seriously, I'm beginning to wonder if lack of direction is preventing me from something, I'm not sure what… maybe life-altering. I should use this house fire as that opportunity. Living situation, career, hobbies, the whole shebang."

I tap her arm with my own. "Then do it."

Esme snickers. "I guess. You know, when I found out that the house was left to me by my great-aunt, I wasn't sure I would move. First, I thought of renting it out, but then I thought of how I could have a little studio, and there is character in an old house. You have a house, but it's only a home if you make it that way. I'm going to miss it."

"You sound like it will never return," I say softly.

She shrugs. "Once everything is fixed, then maybe there won't be the same energy in the house."

"Is this the part where you inform me you feel the ghost in your house will return or that we need to take a trip to that candle store that I told you about?"

She grins at me, appreciating my humor. "Tempting, but it's just… there is an overwhelming feeling that change is on the horizon. Surely, you've had a moment like that in life."

My jaw flexes side to side, doing my best to analyze my life. "In college, I had my eye on law school. Law school isn't always a breeze, but then you have your sight on your career. Once you establish your career, then you are too wrapped up in the workload to think beyond anything else. When I was hired for the Spinners, then that was career success mixed with a hobby."

"You played hockey… in high school," she deadpans.

The line of my mouth slants. "Fair point. But to further explain, there are only tiny moments where my mind is snapped out of my work grind."

Once I say it, I realize that nothing about this scenario seems appealing now that it's happened. Or rather, goals are checked off, so what now? Fuck, she has me thinking, and it's leading me down to my deeper subconscious.

She raises her brows. "Those tiny moments, such as?"

"Probably if I think to recently, then I think of my sister. First, my brother-in-law passing then my nephew entering the picture. Secondly, moving to Everhope and the renovations. But then… I got a hint of something else, something new and totally out of control." I encourage her to lean back and join me to lie down and stare at the blue sky with spotted white clouds.

"Everything of what you said is external. Someone else's life events, and I don't consider picking paint colors life-changing. Let me guess, you didn't even do that and had the designer handle that." My face strains, and her sidelong glance causes her to release a short laugh. "I knew it. Now tell me about this hint of something else. What is it?"

I pause for a second, wondering if I should really open this conversation, but I've never been a man to not be direct, it just doesn't normally involve feelings. "Well, I shouldn't be debating why negotiating with cocky sports agents have fallen low on my list, because it turns out there is someone I enjoy squaring off with more… You."

Her head lolls in my direction with the corner of her mouth tugging into a smile. "I think I might like that answer, even understand it."

"Good, because we might be arguing on the way home that you've taken me to a place where I'm confident I need to get a tetanus shot after."

Her eyes give me a fake glare before she inches closer to me.

"This sort of feels like being in high school and sneaking away with a guy to make out somewhere."

"Whoa, that took a turn in the conversation. I don't particularly care to hear about your younger self's escapades. Because I sure as hell… most definitely did the same."

We both chuckle and enjoy a moment of quiet, hearing only the birds chirping.

"Let's agree that we will both stop and evaluate our lives more to ensure we don't remain boring people with no route to a future dream." Esme offers her hand for me to shake.

My fingers touch her palm, and after a few seconds, I shake her hand. "Agreed."

"Phew, heavy conversation out of the way. You might still have a hot mess of a woman staying in your house once the adrenaline kicks off and the builders inform me that my house is as good as burnt toast, but at least I was optimistic for a few hours. "

"Just shut your mouth, Esme, and let me make out with you."

She rolls on top of me. "If we must, Keats." She feigns the inconvenience.

It's one kiss, but then she stops, with so much beauty and fragility on her face. "Thanks for coming here. I've never actually been here with someone outside of photography. Just maybe… I'm happy it's you."

She doesn't let me process because she slams her mouth onto mine.

This is my life on pause. Seriously, stopping to smell the flowers, and it doesn't feel half bad; in fact, it feels downright positive and hopeful. There is something about this woman that has me spinning, and it appears I might just land in the right spot.