Chapter Eleven

Dylan

 

January 4^th saw me back at Jen’s cabin for the weekend.

The Saturday drive was sunny and calm.

She greeted me with a smile and a cup of coffee. “Hi.”

“Hello there.”

The smile turned into a grin. “Come in.” The door from the mudroom into the house was open. I kissed her before moving forward.

A fire crackled on the other side of the living room. “No snow banks this time.” I shrugged my jacket off and hung it on the coat stand along with my backpack.

She laughed. “Lucky me? Though that means you can run off at will.”

I grabbed her hips. “I promise I’ll never leave again without saying goodbye.”

“Good.”

A peck on her cute nose, then I released her before we both wore coffee. “So, what do you usually do on a Saturday?”

She shrugged. “Depends.” And continued into the kitchen, where two slices of French toast sizzled in a pan. She’d invited me for breakfast. “I might be writing or cleaning or grocery shopping or reading a book. Working home alone, I try to stick to a schedule of writer stuff Monday through Friday, but I’ll keep writing as long as I’m inspired.”

I leaned on the counter, watching her flip the golden brown pieces. “Sounds like us. Jake is married with a kid, so our schedule has conformed to that.”

“When did that happen?”

“Baby was born at the end of February. Beth got pregnant on their honeymoon.”

Jen’s eyes widened. “Wow. You hear about that happening, but never know anybody, you know?”

I chuckled. “Yeah. And she was even on the Pill. She called it super sperm.”

She laughed. “Indeed.” I loved that her laugh was hearty.

Jen’s lack of pretense might be one of the most attractive things about her.

She spatula-d a piece of toast on each plate, then slid one to me with a bottle of syrup. “The first one will be cold by the time more slices are done, so dig in.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I cut into it with the fork. “Mmm, cinnamon in your batter.”

“But of course.”

The woman before me was a much lighter version of the one I met Christmas Eve and it thrilled me to have a part in nudging her out of her funk.

How Jennifer got her groove back.

I fed her bites while she cooked—first two more slices of French toast for us, then eggs and a mild breakfast sausage. I wasn’t here to be waited on and she deserved to eat freshly hot food, too, yet the way she looked at me while we shared was also foreplay.

She’d said enough about her ex for me to know he didn’t treat her well toward the end of their marriage, but it dawned on me now that she’d been used to coming second.

And that was a damn shame.

I kissed her after we’d filled our bellies. “Thank you. You are an excellent hostess.”

“I try.” Her hands slid up my shoulders to twine around my neck.

“What do you want to do today?”

“You.” Green eyes sparkled with mischief. “Eventually.”

I grinned. “Oh, I guarantee that. But I’ve heard dating is more than getting laid.”

“You’ve heard that? Hmm.” She chewed on her full, pink lip that had tasted like all things yummy. “I haven’t dated in nearly ten years, so I’ll defer to your ears.”

“A few orgasms and the woman gets sassy.” I pinched her butt cheek, then released her and moved toward the sofa. “Until we figure it out, let’s get to know each other better. What got you into writing sci-fi?”

She followed and sat with one leg tucked under her. “Well, I saw Star Wars and Star Trek as a kid, of course. Then everything else I could get my hands on. A junior high English teacher recommended Jules Verne and H.G. Wells. I’ve read all the classic writers since, like Asimov and Heinlein. But I didn’t start writing until the Creative Writing class in high school.”

“And then you majored in writing or English at college?”

“Yep. You mentioned liking to read. What books?”

“I minored in English. We read Tolkien in school and my teacher didn’t just give you a book. He talked about the background of the writer and what was happening around them at the time of writing and that got me into British Lit inspired by World War I. The Great War affected people like no other event, until WWII, so that stuff is deep. But I’m not picky. When Beth worked for Jake, we discussed books since I was the only other reader on tour. It was nice for me and I think it helped her cope with the crazy.”

“Crazy?” Her brow furrowed a bit in the middle.

“She and Jake had history.” I didn’t want to speak too out of turn. “But I meant the pace. Once a tour leaves the station, so to speak, it doesn’t stop except when we play, and a well-run concert is its own bit of chaos. Then between gigs, she was stuck with five dudes on a bus.”

Jen cringed. “I hope you weren’t too rowdy.”

“Nah. Jake gave us rules before we left California. But you know men. We’re loud.”

“When is the next tour?”

“A year from April, if we deliver a new album like the label wants us to. Tickets aren’t on sale, yet, but they’ve asked venues to pencil us in.”

“Wow. No pressure.”

“Yeah…right now, we don’t have anything major until Coachella.”

She shook her head. “What’s that?”

“Music festival in the desert. Spans a couple weekends in April.”

Her nose wrinkled up. “Sounds crowded.”

I laughed. “Beth isn’t a fan, either, but she and Jake already reserved a house for us.”

Jen’s head tilted curiously. “Is that what you all do? Rent a house with enough rooms?”

“Actually, it’s the first time we’re performing since her pregnancy. Jake’s stuck close to home.”

“Understandable.”

I smiled. “Yeah. He’s a good dad. She’s got him wrapped around her tiny pinky.” Shifted to get more comfortable. “Your mom’s house…is that where you grew up?”

“Yup. She got it in the divorce.”

“When did that happen?”

Jen sighed. “Shelley was only two. Dad thought he was already at a certain stage of life, so when she was a surprise, a distance built between he and Mom. He just was…selfish, I guess. He was looking forward to having Mom to himself—then baby. Not an awful guy, you know? He doesn’t treat her badly. But it’s not fair.”

“It is not.” What an ass! “Shelley seemed no worse for wear when I met her.” I injected some humor into my tone since Jen’s mood had noticeably dimmed with the subject of her dad.

“She’s…” She laughed. “I don’t know where she gets it. Is that how all teens are growing up these days? How they sound? We love each other, though. There could’ve been a lot of distance with our difference in age—well, we got a lot closer when she entered her teens. We can have discussions on a closer intellectual level. And…I suppose it helps that she’s my reality reader for my YA series.”

“YA?”

“Young Adult, the category publishers came up with for teen fiction. I’m published as J.D. Wright.” She pointed to a bookshelf I hadn’t yet paid attention to.

One row of hardbacks had the same author name. “J.D. for Jennifer Donovan? Where does the ‘Wright’ come from?”

“My maiden name. Want some more coffee?” She stood.

“Sure.”

I watched her walk to the kitchen counter, admiring the fit of her jeans. She’d paired them with a soft, boxy, moss green sweater and thick-soled fuzzy slippers. Jen the Writer in her native habitat, and perfect to me. She returned with two mugs.

“Kiss me before you sit,” I commanded.

She grinned and gave me a couple seconds of her full lips. “As long as you don’t toss in a line like ‘Gimme some sugar, baby’.”

“Oh, I might. But only ironically.”

“Of course.” She sat and sipped, happy eyes peering over the rim of her cup.

I felt pretty good, too, with the buzz of something new.

Different than the start with my ex, though. Julia never had light moments. Everything was dramatic or intense, which intrigued me as a teenager who didn’t know any better.

“Where’d you go?” Jen asked softly, her hand on my knee.

“Thinking about the difference between you and my ex.”

Her eyes widened. “Is that a good thing?”

“Definitely.”

She relaxed, then motioned me to continue.

“Julia was high-maintenance in every way. Her parents and mine were close, so we grew up together, and when we reached a certain age, I was attracted to her. She was popular at school. I wasn’t an exile, but I was shorter than the other boys then and into music instead of sports. After I won the school talent contest, she returned my interest, and I was head over heels. First love, you know?” It felt like a lifetime ago. “She wanted me to write songs for her.”

“Did you?”

Groaning, I nodded. “Rubbish not worth the light of day, but thankfully only she heard them. By graduation, we were madly in love as only teenagers can be and went to the same university. But college schedules are tougher than high school.”

“Were you far from home?”

“Not really. But I was doing a major and minor, then auditioned for the band…”

“Oh, you didn’t start as a thing together?”

I shook my head. “Jake’s three years older than me. Got signed by the label fresh out of college and they started developing him. Bob came right away, our lead guitarist, and they refined the songwriting so Jake got his first EP. The band got put together once he got his first tour, adding Mikey, me, and Aaron.” And Aaron was barely legal then.

“Oh…so you all are the support group for him as the artist?”

“Started that way. He’s still the face and the name, but hasn’t looked at us like that since the beginning. We all clicked, you know. They’re my brothers, my best friends.”

She smiled. “That’s cool.”

“I’ll start you out slow, but I hope you get to meet them.”

“But not now.”

I set my finished mug on the coffee table and moved toward her. “Not today.”

Jen accepted my kiss with a grin and wrapped her arms around my neck.

We had all the time in the world for trading life stories, but I was only here in her cabin for the weekend and the memories would have to sustain me until the next time I made it up the mountain. Or she came to me.

Making out turned passionate with moans and sighs. She broke from my lips. “Bed now.” Yes, ma’am. I let her up and she grabbed my hand and tugged me toward the guest bedroom she offered on Christmas Eve.

“Something wrong with your room?”

“I don’t sleep in there.” She yanked my sweater over my head and I no longer cared.