I gasp as new thoughts spin around in my head. “Maybe Grandmother wasn’t disowned by her family as much as she disowned them.” He just stares at me. I get it. It’s a lot to take in at once. “Then, after Jed died, she came back. He deserves to be in the sinners’ corner with Grandmother, because I’m fairly sure it’s just as big a sin to have an affair with your sister’s husband as it is to run off with your first cousin. But he wasn’t buried there—either because it would have been a bigger scandal or because he was a man.” I throw back the rest of my wine. “What do you think?”
He drops the letter and combs his fingers through the sides of his hair. “I think you make me crazy.”
I shake my head. “Well, I don’t—”
“I think you do it on purpose,” he interrupts, and his eyes are a darker green as he looks down at me. His lids are lowered as if he’s suddenly sleepy, and his voice is deeper when he says, “And I think you like it,” as he slides his hand across the top of my shoulder to the side of my neck. His thumb lifts my chin and his breath whispers across my cheek. “I think I like it too.”
My own breath catches in the back of my throat, and I swallow hard. My mind is racing in all different directions. Then his mouth is just above mine and everything slows to the unhurried brush of his lips and the warm flush of my skin. “This makes things complicated.”
He shakes his head and slips his free hand around my waist to the small of my back. “Nothing complicated about it.” He pulls me closer. “I kiss you, and you kiss me back if you feel like it. Easy.”
That’s the problem. It’s too easy. Much harder to pull away than to fall into him until I’m in so deep that I don’t know where I end and he begins. My head says no, but every other part of my body is screaming Yes!
“You’re overthinking it.”
I’m still Lulu the Love Guru, and that’s what I do. I make lists and rules and… His fingers brush my back, sending shivers up and down my spine. I am a shameless hypocrite, but I slide my hands up his chest to his shoulders anyway. His muscles harden beneath my touch, and I like knowing what I do to him. I rise on the balls of my feet and say next to his ear, “I don’t want to make you crazy, Simon.”
“Too late, cher.” Then he kisses me. Openmouthed kisses, hotter than the first time. A flash fire that I breathe in so deeply, I feel it in the pit of my stomach. I know he must stop, but I hope that he doesn’t. Not just yet. His hands slide into my hair and he holds my face to his and I never want it to stop. He wants me every bit as much as I want him, and I lose myself in his kiss that lasts forever but not long enough. Against my breasts I feel his deep groan just before he tears his mouth from mine. His labored breath stirs the wild curls resting on my forehead. “If you don’t stop me now, we’re going to finish this in your bed.”
I lick my dry lips as my body wars with my head. It takes me longer than it should to make the decision I’ve preached for ten years. “I’m going to stop you now.” I expect him to cajole or get angry.
“That’s what I thought you’d say.” He kisses the top of my head.
He sounds so sure, but he doesn’t know how much I want to grab his hand and take him upstairs. “I have a three-month rule,” I say as much to myself as to him.
He pulls back and looks into my face. “A what?”
“A wait-three-months-before-sex rule.”
He grins. “When did we meet, tee Lou? Was it back in March, no?”
“A three-month dating rule.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. It takes at least that long to get to know someone. Some men can’t handle it.”
He drops his hands and steps back. “I can handle it, but that doesn’t mean I like it.”
“Patience is a virtue. It’s in the Bible.”
“I spent twelve years in Catholic schools, tee Lou. I know what’s in the Bible.” He walks toward the front, or back, or whichever entrance. “Sin on Saturday and confess on Sunday.” He opens the front door and asks, “What are you doing next Saturday?”
I laugh and follow him out onto the front porch. “Probably not sinning.” I stop at the top step and watch him walk around the back of his truck. “Simon.”
He pauses and looks across the distance at me.
“Merci bien,” I say, having picked up a little Cajun French here and there. “You didn’t have to come today, but I’m glad you did.”
“De rien. I had a good time.”
“Me too. Almost as good as bobbering.”
He chuckles and opens his truck’s door. “A good bobber is hard to beat.”
After Simon leaves, I take down the party banner and carry everything to the outside garbage cans. Lindsey’s been gone for an hour and a half, and Mom’s been asleep the whole time, thank God. I would have hated for Mom to walk into the parlor to find me practically wrapped around Simon. I don’t know what she would have done. I don’t think she honestly believes Simon is her real boyfriend, but he is her “foxy man.”
I shake my head as I walk toward Mom’s room. She is territorial and I probably shouldn’t risk making out with him a second time. Third, rather. I crack open the bedroom door and peek inside. Mom hasn’t slept long, but she hates to miss I Love Lucy on the Hallmark Channel and I call out, “Mom, it’s almost time for Lucy.” I walk farther into the room. “Mom, time to get up.” Her quilt is thrown back, and she isn’t in bed. Her shoes are in the place where I left them. “Mom?” I turn toward the TV and see her on the floor by the hearth. “Mom!” She’s on her back, and one leg is bent beneath her as if she crumpled in that spot. I drop to my knees and put a hand on her shoulder.