Katie woke from a dead sleep to Jon’s snoring. She stared at the ceiling in the dark for several moments before lifting from her pillow, frustrated. She looked over at her sleeping husband.
How could he not wake himself up? He sounded like a grizzly dancing with a hyena.
She poked him with her elbow...hard. “Jon. Turn over.” She waited. “Jon,” she repeated, this time a little louder. “Turn over.”
Still nothing.
“Jon!” she nearly shouted. “Wake up and turn over.”
“Huh? What?” Her husband lifted his head and looked around in confusion.
Katie turned on the bedside lamp. “You were snoring. Again.”
Jon sat up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. I guess I can’t help it.”
“Well, you’re going to have to do something. I can’t sleep. Maybe we should look into getting you one of those CPAP machines.” Up until now, Katie had been reluctant to suggest such a thing. How sexy would that be? Then again, snoring wasn’t exactly attractive, either.
Jon looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “Can I go back to sleep now?”
She rolled her eyes. “Only if you use two pillows.” She tossed him the extra she used. “Tomorrow, I’ll order you one of those pillows from the guy on television.”
Jon positioned the second pillow under his head. “I thought you said you were never going to order online again,” he mumbled.
True. Statistically, she returned far more items than she kept. A waste of time, in her opinion.
“I don’t. But we can’t go on like this. Lack of sleep affects my ability to work.” She punched her pillow and flopped her head down. Then she remembered the light.
After turning off the lamp, Katie nestled in and tried to fall asleep. She tossed. And turned. Finally, she gave up and returned to staring at the ceiling. When Jon began to snore again, she’d had enough and went to the bathroom and flicked on the light.
On the way to the toilet, she padded past the tiny sink and glanced in the mirror. The image looking back at her was not pretty. There was a time when she would’ve been horrified to see her hair matted, her face mottled. She sure wouldn’t have wanted Jon to see her like that and would have taken a few minutes to repair the nighttime damage with a dab of makeup and a comb.
That was back then.
Now, all that mattered was doing her business and returning to bed.
Before sliding back under the covers, she realized she’d forgotten to take her vitamins…a ritual she never skipped.
Sighing, she slid her feet into her slippers and quietly made her way across the dark room. About halfway to their bedroom door, Jon’s snoring grew louder.
Katie kept her jars of vitamins in the kitchen, in a clear plastic container on the top shelf in her pantry out of the reach of little hands, right next to the containers of flour and sugar. Her shelves were orderly, with boxes of cereal, rice and cake mixes arranged by size. Her canned goods were alphabetical and the bottles of sauces lined up by ethnicity. The Southern barbeque sauces were first, followed by bottles of soy sauce, sesame oil and peanut sauce. Next came the tiny jars of salsa and extra bottles of hot pepper sauces. She liked Tabasco. Jon preferred Cholula.
She’d often been teased about her propensity for having a place for everything, and everything in its place. Once, her brothers pulled a prank and scrambled her system by mixing jars with boxes and placing bottles of ketchup next to her vitamins. She’d paid them back a few months later by offering them a plate of Oreo cookies where she’d gleefully replaced the white frosting center with white toothpaste.
No one messed with Katie Ackerman!
Regardless, she believed that an hour spent organizing could save her two hours of searching. That was especially so in this tiny house. It was simply a matter of efficiency.
She turned on the kitchen light and padded across the floor. After doling out her vitamins into the palm of her hand, she filled a glass at the sink. That’s when she noticed something outside the window.
She quickly turned off the light and leaned to the window for a better glimpse. No, she wasn’t snoopy. Only curious.
In the light from above the neighboring door, Katie could see her Aunt Vanessa laughing.
Was that a guy with her? Oh, my goodness, it was!
And he was a hottie. Even from this distance, Katie could see now tall he was, she’d guess about six-two, at least. He had broad shoulders, thick dark hair, a chiseled jawline like you’d see on a film star.
Way to go, Aunt Vanessa!
The man leaned and cupped her aunt’s chin in his hands, bent and whispered something against her ear, then he kissed her…a kiss that went on for several minutes.
Katie watched, mesmerized.
It’d been a long time since she’d been kissed like that.
Her mind quickly recalled many nights standing at her parents’ front door after a date with Jon. Memory of the way he looked at her before kissing her goodnight still brought tingles to her toes. Back then, they couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other.
She met Jon at a party, one of those events she rarely attended. Her friend, Heather, had begged her to go. Heather was over-the-moon infatuated with some guy she’d met on the beach the night before and wanted to accept his invitation to the party but was too afraid to attend alone.
“Please,” she begged. “It’s on the beach. Besides, I’ll pay you back. Promise.” Her eyes lit up. “Tell you what, I’ll go to the bookstore with you tomorrow. We’ll browse the romance aisle. You’d like that, right?”
For years, paperbacks with bare-chested man covers had been her hidden pleasure, a secret she’d only shared with Heather.
Katie shook her head, a bit reluctant. “I don’t know. Those kinds of parties wear on me pretty fast. I hate loud music where you can’t even hear yourself talk. I always leave with a headache.”
In the end, she folded. It was either that or be woken up and have to sneak out of her parents’ house to go get Heather when she’d had too much to drink and couldn’t drive. After reading far too many tragic news stories, Katie had forced a pact between them months earlier promising they would never let the other take a chance on the road if they were even slightly inebriated. She now had a similar pact with Shane. One call and she’d drop everything and come.
She and Heather were at the party only a few minutes before Heather whisked off with that new guy. Feeling out of place, Katie bumped her way to a makeshift bar constructed of plywood placed on top of two rickety looking sawhorses. A couple of pimply-faced guys, who didn’t look old enough to drive a car, let alone drink, stood dutifully dispensing beer from a silver keg.
Upon approach, one of them offered a red plastic cup with white froth overflowing the rim. “Hey, you’re pretty. Are you here alone?”
He said something more, but Katie suddenly couldn’t make out the words over top of the music that was now blasting only a few yards from her. “Do you have any water?” she shouted.
“What?”
“Water! Do you have any?”
The kid looked at her like she had two heads. Either he hadn’t heard her or water wasn’t on the menu. “Never mind,” she said and turned to see if she could catch a glimpse of Heather somewhere in the building throng of kids.
She set out through the crowd, getting bumped and jostled. Another reason she detested these things.
Not finding Heather, she turned, thinking she might simply wait in the car. When she did, she nearly face-planted into a guy’s chest. “Oh, excuse me,” she apologized.
The full moon lit one side of his face, his jawline a shadow across his neck. His disheveled hair was the color of walnuts, and a thin layer of stubble covered his lower face. He was a strange combination of the boy next door and a pirate on the sand holding a wench by the waist.
Her breath caught as she felt her insides breaking loose.
He laughed. “You look like you need rescuing.”
“Are you calling me helpless?” she challenged, but with a smile.
“Oh, no. You look to be fairly fierce. But clearly uncomfortable.” He tilted his head and handed her his half-empty red cup. “And you appear thirsty.”
She didn’t want the beer. She grinned and took the cup anyway.
“Look, these crowds aren’t really my thing. Want to go for a walk?” he asked, his eyes clearly hopeful she’d say yes.
“On the beach?” She took a sip of the beer and handed the cup back.
Laughing, he nodded toward the sky. “No, I thought we might stroll the moon.” His jean shorts were ripped a little above the knee and he wore a wrinkled white button-down shirt…open at the chest.
She drew in a deep breath of the night-blooming jasmine that bordered the shoreline. Normally, she’d have a smart retort. A few words that would put him in his place. When she opened her mouth, nothing came out. Something about that chest made her drop her mental rocks. “I’d like that…beach or moon.”
From day one, she felt heat whenever she was within a few feet of Jon. He felt the same. They found ways to be together every day and when they were physically apart, they were on the phone at every opportunity. She couldn’t get enough of him.
Katie now braced against the kitchen sink to steady herself.
A subterranean shift moved beneath her feet as she realized how much she missed feeling like that. Sure, they still enjoyed being together behind closed doors. But it was different now. They were married. Had two kids. A dog. Car payments.
And Jon snored.
When exactly had everything changed?
It was then that she realized she was still holding the vitamins in her hand. She tossed them in her mouth and took a drink, pushing them down. Then, she placed the glass in the dishwasher, turned, and headed for the bedroom with stone-hard determination. That boy on the beach was still hers. Her blood ran warmer the instant she knew all she had to do was turn the situation around. Last she knew, she still had the touch that sent her husband in a spin.
She eased the bedroom door open and slipped to the Jon’s side of the bed, not even hiding the grin on her face as she contemplated her next move.
Suddenly, Jon’s mouth fell open and he let out a long, drawn-out snore…one that could wake people on Oahu.
Katie groaned. All amorous thoughts puddled at her feet.
With a heavy sigh, she dropped her plan and shuffled around to her side of the bed and climbed inside. Curling under the covers, she once again stared at the ceiling. A dull-edged pain filled her.
Why was the beginning of the romance story always better than the following chapters?