Part 37 (2/2)

”What? No. Of course not!”

Or had it?

”Jax Whitver starts crooning about a courts.h.i.+p, and you realize you never had one. I get it.”

That last ranger remark? Pure jealousy talking.

And it set my pulse to pitty-patterin'.

I shook my head. ”I don't think that's it. Did you listen to those lyrics? The song might as well have been 'Bang, Bang.'”

No. I was pretty sure it had less to do with ”Counterfeit Courts.h.i.+p” and more to do with not waking up one day to find out you and the guy next to you had never taken the time to make memories to build a life together on.

So why didn't I just say that? Why didn't I just come out and say those words?

Because we hadn't gotten to the point with each other where we felt comfortable saying whatever b.l.o.o.d.y well popped into our heads.

And why was that again?

Because we hadn't done our homework. We hadn't put the time and effort into our relations.h.i.+p required for you to be comfortable putting it all out there and being totally spontaneous and honest with each other-not screening everything you say through a ”what will he/she think?” filter.

We hadn't laid the groundwork necessary to have the confidence that-no matter what-you can share your deepest, darkest, ”you” and still be understood, accepted, and loved.

We simply hadn't put in the time.

”What are you thinking, Tressa?”

I was thinking we're not there yet. And I knew we weren't there yet because I couldn't speak up and tell him we weren't there yet.

Does, like, any of this make any sense at all?

”Tressa?” Rick asked.

”I want to do the homework,” I blurted.

”Homework?”

”Couples' homework. Do you realize I don't even know what your favorite meal is? Or color. Or TV show. Or author. I have no clue if you're a morning person or a night person. If you are messy or a neatnik or in-between. Whether you like country, jazz, or pop the best. What movie you last saw. What kind of toothpaste you use.” I shrugged. ”I want to know these things. Couples are supposed to know these things.”

”Like I said, you want the courts.h.i.+p.”

”I want the relations.h.i.+p.”

”You want the dating.”

”I want the foundation.”

He shook his head. ”You know, in a million years I don't think I'll ever understand you,” he said, ”but, if I want to have that chance, I guess we'd better start now.”

He took out his phone. A second later my phone was ringing. I frowned and picked it up.

”h.e.l.lo?”

”Tressa? It's Rick.”

”Oh, h.e.l.lo. How are you?”

”Good. Say, I was wondering. I can get my hands on a couple of tickets to an Iowa Cubs game next week. Would you like to go?”

”Why, that would be lovely, Rick.”

”Great! It's a date! I'll be in touch with details. 'Bye, Tressa.”

”Goodbye, Rick.”

Throughout our little phone chat, we'd moved closer to each other. Now we were inches apart.

I tapped my forehead.

”See? No furrows.”

Townsend laughed and brushed my hair back, replacing his fingers with his lips.

”Yep. Smooth as silk,” he said, caressing my shoulders and arms and sending s.h.i.+vers down the length of my spanking clean body.

”I also used moisturizer on my cheeks,” I said, putting a fingertip on one.

He followed my lead, switching his attention from my forehead to my cheek.

”And there.” I pointed to my other cheek.

”Nice,” he said and kissed my face. ”Very nice.”

”And I tried a new perfume. Right there.” I exposed the right side of my neck. Soft kisses were my reward.

”How about there?” Rick said, and pulled my tank top down, following his hand with his mouth.

”Yeah. There, too,” I managed.

Townsend pushed me back onto the sofa and locked his lips on mine, his hand slipping beneath my top and finding what felt like two very needy nipples.

I arched my back and opened my mouth.

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