Winter Jacket (19 page)

"Speaking of which," I mused out loud, eager for the opportunity to turn the tables
on her, "any cute professors I should feel threatened by?"

Unlike me,
Hunter didn't stutter. "My teachers are all men this semester. You know I'm in it for the skirts." The way her eyes trailed down my bare legs wasn't lost on me.

I cleared my throat. "How do you feel about dirt?"

“Is this like your fish question?” She quirked an elegant eyebrow.  Everything about her was elegant.  “You’ll have to be a little more specific.  I don’t want to end up at a Monster Truck Rally.”

“I want to plant a flower garden in my backyard,
” I explained, “but I’m kind of hopeless when it comes to those kinds of things.”

“You’re in luck,” Hunter beamed, her previous apprehension quieted for the moment.
“I happen to be an expert.”

             
“Oh really?”

             
“Well, maybe not an
expert
,” she qualified, “but I’ve got some experience with gardening.”

             
“You’re hired.  Can you come over this evening?”

             
Her generous mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Don’t you want to see my resume first?  I’ve got references.”

“I trust you
,” I said, grinning back.  “You’ve got an honest face.”

“
That’s funny; my parole officer says the same thing.”

I shook my head and laughed.
  Hunter Fact #3.  She had a way with dirt.  I bent down and kissed her.

+++++

Later that afternoon, I waited on my front porch for Hunter to finish at the hospital. For once I didn’t have grading to do, so I used the free time to finish up the final story in my anthology.  Soon I would start shopping it around to trade presses for publication.  I had decided to go ahead with my idea and write a story about Hunter, but I was going to keep it a secret until the book was published.  I suppose that’s one of the dangers of dating a writer; you often show up on the printed page.

Around 6pm, she
appeared in my front yard, walking from the direction of her apartment. As she strolled up the sidewalk to the front of my house, I took a moment to admire how good she looked. She’d changed out of her scrubs and looked amazing in torn jeans and a t-shirt that fit snugly around her thin biceps. She strode up the front walkway with long, lean legs that never ended and a small, perfect ass I was now openly ogling. 

When she reached the front stoop, she held up a canvas bag with the local grocery chain’s logo screen printed on it.  “I didn’t know if you had
eaten dinner or not already,” she announced, “but I stopped by the grocery store and picked us up some sandwiches from the deli.”

I stood up and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. "That was awfully thoughtful.
"  The kiss felt like a very couple-y thing to do, and once I’d done it, I worried maybe I was moving too fast.  We’d slept together, but that didn’t mean we were ready to merge like amoebas.  She didn’t look like she minded it though, so I pushed the worry from my mind.

"You feed me all the time
,” she said shrugging. “I thought it was time I repaid the favor."

"You made pancakes,” I pointed out.  “And they were amazing."

"With
your
kitchen supplies,” she countered. “And you paid for admission to the aquarium.” Her grin widened. “You should let me treat you once in a while."

I wrink
led my nose at her logic. "But I've got a job and you're still in school. I don't mind paying for things."

"I'm not looking for a Sugar Mama, Elle,” she said, shaking her head. “I'm looking for a partner."

This woman was a marvel.  I tried to not drool too visibly. "Duly noted."

“So w
hat kinds of flowers did you get?” she asked. 

“Oh, s
ome pink ones and some purple ones, and I think some orange and yellow ones.”

Her eyes widened.
“Oh Lord, you’re not serious are you?”

I laughed.  “I’m joking.  I know a little about the
se things.  I got some bulbs from the garden center. Tulips and things like that.  I figure I’d get a head start on them now so I could have a little color come Spring and then plant another round of perennials in the Summer.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”

“But I still need your help.”

Hunter
rubbed her hands together and grinned eagerly. "Okay. Let's get started on this garden."

+++++

Hunter handled the bulbs I’d purchased with such dedication and such care, you’d think they were fragile eggs rather than tightly bundled roots.  As I sat on the grass beside her and watched her dig a small hole with a trowel, I felt a warmth spread over me.  It wasn’t purely arousal, although watching her hands work the earth certainly brought back memories of what else she could do with those hands.

“You’re awfully good with your hands.”
Whoops. I hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

Hunter paused mid-hole.
“Is this an elaborate set-up?  Did you buy all of these bulbs and supplies just so you could throw sexual innuendos at me?”

I ducked my head.  I really had meant to keep that thought to myself. “No, I’ve actually been planning a flower garden since I bought the place,” I defended. I plucked a blade of grass from the earth and rolled it between my thumb and pointer finger. “I just haven’t had the time to do anything about it until now.”

“Or the cheap
labor,” she teased.

“
How did you get so good at this?” I asked.  When I’d shown her the space along my garage in the backyard where I intended to have my flower garden, she hadn’t waited for any further instruction.  She’d taken the lead, immediately digging into the dirt and opening up the bags of bulbs I’d purchased.  She’d asked me for feedback on the design of the garden, but beyond that, I hadn’t had to do much.

Hunter
looked up after placing a cluster of small bulbs into another hole in the ground. She wiped at her forehead with the back of her hand, mindful not to get dirt on her face. “My grandparents always had a big garden at their house.  My grandma used to babysit my brother and me in the summers when my parents were at work – we were cheap labor.” She picked up another bag of bulbs and inspected the label. “After my grandpa died and my grandma’s arthritis got bad, I used to go over and help her keep the garden going.”

“You’re determined to make me fall for you, aren’t you?”

She looked away from the bag of bulbs and raised a pale, blonde eyebrow at me.

“A girl who helps out her
arthritic grandmother?” I clarified.  “You’re making me melt, Hunter.”

She bit her lower lip and cast her gaze low.
  “It’s not a big deal,” she murmured modestly.  “Plus she always paid me with rhubarb pie.” 

“How do you propose
I
pay you back for your help?” I asked. I really hadn’t done much since we’d gone to the backyard except hand her a few bulbs whenever she asked me for them. 

Her lips twisted
into a wry grin, and she shook her head. “You’re making it very hard for me,” she mumbled in warning.

“I have no ide
a what you’re talking about.”

             
She shook her head again and stabbed the trowel deeper into the soft earth.  The movement was a little aggressive. “This going slow stuff sucks.”  She breathed out a frustrated puff of air that ruffled at her bangs.

I reached out and wiped at a smudge of dirt on her cheek.  I only made it worse, but I wasn’t about to lick my thumb like a mom and wipe it off.
 

Her eyes shifted and trained on my hand.  The blue orbs looked bluer than usual with the low afternoon sun reflecting against them. “C
an I make you breakfast in the morning?"

I pulled my hand away from her face
. "Is that your way of asking to spend the night?"

Hunter
's gaze slipped demurely to the side. "Well, your bed
is
ridiculously comfortable.  From what I remember, I mean."

"And you're a ridiculously talented cuddler.
” I licked my lips. “From what I remember,” I added.  “It's like you studied at a school for cats. No wonder Sylvia adores you."

She looked up from her work and leveled me with that intense blue-grey gaze.  I hadn’t felt the intensity of her stare in a while, but it affected me just as much as it had before we started dating. 
“
Just
Sylvia?”

I bit my lower lip. 
Damn it.
  I was in so much trouble with this girl.

+++++

CHAPTER
ELEVEN

Midterm Week is just as stressful on professors as it is for the students who take them, and by the end of the week I was exhausted. On Friday, when I didn’t have to teach,
I did something I hadn't done in a very long time – I took a nap. Usually my brain never lets me sleep during the day because of my inability to turn it off, but I had finished enough work that morning to warrant taking the rest of the afternoon off.  Hunter had said she would come over after her classes finished for the day, but that wouldn’t be for a few more hours.

I hadn’t seen Hunter since our Monday evening
and subsequent morning together. After we’d finished planting the bulbs in the backyard, we had the sandwiches she’d brought and I’d rounded up some fresh fruit and other snacks for us to graze on throughout the night.  We’d cuddled up on the couch and watched TV like it was the most natural thing in the world.  Even though I wasn’t sure about letting her spend the night again, worried that I wouldn’t be able to restrain myself if she continued to tease me, we’d both behaved. Sylvia, for the first time since I’d adopted her, slept at the end of the bed.  I’m sure it had something to do with the woman sleeping soundly beside me.

Waking up next to Hunter the following
morning had felt equally comfortable and as natural as the night before.  It was something I could get used to very quickly.  It was an uneasy thought that I’d gotten so emotionally invested in this woman so soon.  She’d made good on her promise of making me breakfast Tuesday morning and I discovered that not only did she make a killer pancake, but she also made some of the best French toast I’d ever had.

When I finally woke up from my nap Friday afternoon and went downstairs, I heard voices, or at least
a
voice.  I walked closer in the direction of the noise, until the voice became clearer and finally identifiable. "Hunter?" I called out.

Her response
was immediate. "Yes?"

I found her in my
home office sitting on the little red couch. "Were you talking to yourself?" I leaned against the door jam, almost afraid to enter my own space as if I was interrupting.  Bright sunlight streamed through the office windows, wiggling past the slanted blinds.  The way the sunrays reflected off her already light blonde hair gave her an ethereal glow. I felt like I needed to whisper in her presence.

"No.
I was talking to Sylvia."

From where I stood I couldn't see the cat, but I didn't doubt she was crouched somewhere, maybe hiding behind a stack of books or a potted plant.
My office had the best natural light in the house, and she was attracted to the sunny spots cast on the floor and furniture. I wondered if Hunter was, too. Maybe she was part cat, which helped explain why she and my disgruntled pet got along so well. They spoke the same language.

"I never realized she was such a conversationalist."

Hunter tilted her head to the side. "You must not be listening close enough."

I crossed the room and sat beside her.
I could now see the cat, Sylvia, perched like a rabbit on my wheeled office chair. Her tail flicked back and forth erratically. She must have been irritated with me for interrupting what was certainly a complex conversation.

"
Have you been down here long?"

Hunter checked the time on the grandfather clock in the office.
 "About an hour. I went upstairs looking for you, but you were so adorable passed out on the bed, I decided to let you sleep."

"I
’m kind of a heavy sleeper,” I admitted.  “I guess it's a good thing I didn't bother locking the front door or I never would have heard you ring the bell."  My hand found hers. "What would you like to do today?" I loved how our fingers seemed to be puzzle pieces that were meant to find each other to be complete.