Nursing Myself Back Read online

  But I don’t need to, or want to, think about my friend anymore as I have someone else to think about. Before I have a date—date…I wish—with Liz tonight, I’ve got a date with my computer so I can take a crash course on toilet repairs.

  How romantic, I chuckle to myself. Well, whatever gets my foot in the door at this point, right?

  Chapter 5: Seal the Deal

  Caleb

  I arrived at her house promptly at six. I brought her a plant as a gesture because I wanted to be gentlemanly. Golden rule is to never show up empty-handed; I believe chivalry is not dead, despite what others may think.

  Flowers, chocolates, and wine would have been too forward, and I don’t need any aphrodisiacs to be lusting after her—yup, no help needed in that department. And I don’t want her to need those things in order to want me; of course, I’d give her anything and everything in this world, including flowers, chocolates, and wine, but I’m hoping I’m enough to satisfy her. I need to take baby steps here, and I’ll try not to put the cart before the horse.

  I did what I said I’d do and watched a few videos before arriving to ensure I could fake it until I make it with the plumber skills. After viewing them, I think it will be quite easy to do the project. I’ve always been a quick study, so this should be a walk in the park. I’m glad I can help Liz. This is not something she should be doing on her own. Having to remove the toilet from the floor would be too much for her to handle on her own, so cue the knight-in-shining-armor music as I strut into her place. I’m not being chauvinistic either; she needs some added muscle for this task.

  When she answered the door, I was instantly hard. Who am I kidding? I was hard on the drive over. She just intensified the sensation of my dick straining against the zipper to my jeans; he wants to come out and say “hello” too.

  She looks adorable wearing a pair of faded skin-tight blue jeans with a plain white T-shirt, the look completed with a pair of sneakers. I love that she’s a no-fuss kind of woman. She can rock anything, and this ensemble is just as gorgeous as others. Oh, I’ve seen her dressed up at events and believe me, she’s a beauty. Hell, I couldn’t take my eyes off her the day of Alexi’s wedding. Now with Brent’s wedding coming up in three weeks, I can’t wait to see her in formal-wear again with some sexy heels. I’m hoping I can be her date—but maybe that’s premature thinking again.

  Thankfully, she picked up all the supplies at the hardware store on her way home from work; shit, I didn’t even think about suggesting I pick up the stuff for her. I refrained from laughing and thereby outing myself when she informed me she “watched a few YouTube videos” to prepare herself. See, great minds think alike!

  She told me the staff at the local store was only all too happy to help her with her lot, and even offered to come over to assist with the installation. As she’s telling me this, I’m gripping the caulk so hard in my hand, I’m surprised the tip didn’t blow off, creating a mess. I can’t hold back my feelings of jealously and possessiveness over her. She has no idea of her appeal to men—and probably women—and that makes her even sexier.

  Since we’re on the subject, I have to ask her, “So, what made you want to do this on your own instead of hiring someone? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m delighted to help you; I’m just curious.”

  She blinks and smiles shyly at me as we’re crouched on her bathroom floor putting the finishing touches on the caulk job—fuck, I wish it was a cock job.

  I love that she can be so shy sometimes. From the little I know, she’d been with her ex for so long, I gather it’s a new thing for her being around a man—well, other than friendship with Alexi, of course.

  “I like doing things myself. I admit that for bigger things I usually hire someone, but when I noticed the seal leaking and googled it, it didn’t seem that difficult. Plus, it’s giving me something to do to take my mind off everything. There’s nothing like some good ole elbow grease to do the job. Does that sound ridiculous?” She asks sheepishly.

  I’m sure I have this mystified look in my eyes as I stare at her, but I can’t help it. She amazes me. She’s so independent and hardworking, and I can’t get over the fact that a woman like her is in front of me. I want so badly to reach out and stroke her beautiful cheek that’s flushed with a little rose tint to it.

  “You’re so beautiful,” I practically whisper.

  She swallows and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear that escaped from her ponytail and mumbles a “thanks.”

  I realize saying it is probably a colossal mistake because I made her uncomfortable. I couldn’t hold back the words because she has me hypnotized by her inner and outer beauty. Damn I’m an idiot. I knew I had to take this slow.

  ***

  Liezel

  Beautiful? Me? What?

  No one ever calls me beautiful. Well, Tyler does because we’re each other’s adoring fans. He’s definitely a mama’s boy, and I don’t think it’s because of the autism; he’s high-functioning and completely verbal, and I’m very lucky that’s the case. I think Tyler is attached to me because I’m the only one who seems to understand him outside of his brother and sister.

  William never called me beautiful, not even on our wedding day. I can’t believe it came from another man’s lips. I feel like a twit for just telling him “thanks.” Ugh, I was caught off guard. The fact that this man would say such a thing like that to me is plain crazy!

  He’s the beautiful one! Can men be described as beautiful? I suppose they can because there’s no other way to describe Caleb. He’s so strong, handsome, and incredibly giving. I can tell he’s a genuine person with a deep soul. I think we can be great friends. Alexi is really the only platonic relationship I have with the opposite sex, so it will be nice to add another friend to my list. I love the girls in our group too, and it’s amazing how it’s grown over the years starting back when Caylan entered the picture.

  When Caleb first asked me about a baking lesson earlier today, I wanted so much to take him up on it for tonight. I kept thinking I need to live, live, live. A chant I will have to repeat since I promised my daughter I’d “do something for myself.” When the opportunity presented itself in regard to help with the repair, well, I had to go for it. Lightning wasn’t going to strike twice. Thank you toilet!

  I still can’t believe he’s here helping me with plumbing of all things. A part of me feels like I should be embarrassed, and then another part—the long ignored woman in me—wants to be near him no matter what we’re doing. I feel like I need to be near him. I’m drawn to him, and I can’t deny that. Once again, a small twinge of guilt assails me; I should probably remain in denial because I haven’t done anything wrong.

  Sure, I agonized over what to wear tonight and whether to put my hair into a simple ponytail. Then I had to keep reminding myself through fits of laughter that this is not a date. So, I settled on something comfortable and appropriate for working on my damn toilet! He hasn’t said anything else, so I should probably make small talk. I do want to know more about him. Even if I can never have him, or a man like him, I still want to know more.

  I go for the lame opener, “Erm, what’s your favorite type of music to listen to?”

  “I have eclectic taste. But I’d say I grew up listening to the stuff my parents would have playing throughout the house. I love Fleetwood Mac, REO Speedwagon, Journey, and Billy Joel,” he says with a panty-drenching smile that does things to my inner core.

  God, does he realize how sexy he is without even trying?

  “Oh my God, I love Billy Joel! He’s one of my favorite musicians. I saw him in concert years ago with Elton John during their Face to Face tour. It was epic!” I know I’m beaming at the fact that we have this in common. It’s silly, but it still means something to me.

  “My turn,” he says.

  I’m confused for a second, but then he starts talking, and I soon realize we’re doing the question game.

  “Do you collect anything? I used to collect Pogs as a kid but not anythi
ng in my adult years,” he chuckles.

  “Wow, I remember those things. I think the big, metal, heavy one was called the slammer or something like that.” I bite my lip and giggle at the memory of seeing everyone playing them in my mind. I personally didn’t play with them, but many people did back then.

  “Oh yeah, the slammer was where it was at!” He winks at me.

  I clear my throat because I don’t like reading into anything he says or does since he couldn’t possibly be flirting with me, could he?

  I put us back on track, “Umm, I collect owls. I have so much owl stuff around the house I’m surprised you didn’t notice. But I guess I didn’t even give you the grand tour, so I’ll have to rectify that after we’re done with this. I suppose the only time you’ve been here was last night. But upstairs in my bedroom it looks like someone vomited owls everywhere.”

  My cheeks must be ten shades of red, and I feel my face flaming realizing I mentioned my bedroom to him. I’m mortified, but all he does is smile and stare at me like he’s trying to read something in my features. I blow out a breath and discover I probably shouldn’t take him into my bedroom. I mean, for God’s sake, he doesn’t need the tour of that! He’ll think I’m some kind of hussy if I invite him in there.

  “A tour would be great when we’re done. You have a fantastic home, Liz. I like owls too. I consider them intelligent and valiant creatures. I can see why you collect them,” he speaks in earnest.

  Must not read into anything. Must not read into anything. If I say it enough, maybe I’ll believe it.

  “So, is it my turn for a question, or yours?” I ask.

  “Yours,” he says as he makes a grand sweeping gesture with his hand to indicate I have the floor.

  He’s adorable, and so sweet, and so…gah!

  “Okay, so what’s your guilty pleasure? I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” I hedge, raising my eyebrows to show it could be all manner of things from something sinister to something spicy. Of course, I’m joking and attempting to be flirtatious, but I’m sure I’m failing miserably. It’s so easy to want to flirt with him.

  I swear his eyes darken at my words. In my peripheral vision I see him grip the tube of caulk. I recall he did that earlier, but at the time I thought it was a figment of my imagination. He better be careful squeezing that thing or it will blow!

  “Don’t strangle your cock,” I warn, trying to be funny, and then I realize what I said. I meant “caulk,” damnit! Well, if that isn’t a Freudian slip, I don’t know what is.

  Kill me now, oh my God, just kill me now!

  I know I have shock and awe written all over my face as I scramble to formulate something to recover from my monumental fumble.

  “Caulk! I mean the caulk. Sorry about that!” I respond and shut my eyes tight like I’m a little girl and wishing away the Boogeyman.

  I hear him breathing heavily, but I don’t dare look. I’m a coward, and I’m okay with that because if I look at him and start thinking things, then I might want to tackle him to the floor. I would pounce on him so easily. I don’t truly consider myself a cougar, but Lord, I’d definitely pounce on him and rub up against him like a wild animal—so, I’d take the title if it means I get to be with him.

  After what I’m sure is only a few moments but feels more like an eternity, I finally take a quick peek. I look at the floor first because I’m living up to my coward status, and oh boy, there’s caulk—see, I said it correctly this time in my mind—all over my tiled floor.

  “Shit,” is all I end up saying to this man.

  Chapter 6: Cookie or Nookie?

  Liezel

  We cleaned up the mess from the tube incident and had a good laugh about it once the moment passed us by. I had to admire our handiwork when all was said and done. I thanked him profusely for helping me. I don’t think I could have managed to lift the toilet off the floor and place it back over the seal in order to seat it properly had he not been there. Sometimes I bite off more than I can chew, so I’m grateful for the assistance.

  As promised, I gave him a tour of my house. He seemed to think my owl obsession sprinkled throughout all the rooms is endearing, and I find his reaction quite exhilarating. We avoided my bedroom, and that is a good thing because if I was anywhere near my bed, I couldn’t be held accountable for my actions.

  He shouldn’t be so yummy. He shouldn’t be allowed to walk the earth and not expect women to throw themselves at him. I’m sure I’m on a long list of willing participants. He’s so easy to be with and that makes him dangerous because if he were an asshole, then I could accept that I shouldn’t develop feelings for him. But when he’s so amazing like this, well, that adds a whole new level of complications to my life.

  We’re now standing in my cozy kitchen, and I’m thinking about when I watched his muscles flex during the heavy lifting—a titillating sight indeed. Mmm, him in that gray T-shirt he’s wearing can’t house all the ridges on his delicious biceps, and it makes my belly flip while reminiscing. If he had shown plumber’s crack, it would have been totally hot on him—believe me, seeing his ass should be considered a gift from heaven.

  I’ve taken stock of every part of his body tonight. He’s got those thick thighs accentuated by the denim, along with a perfectly sculpted body that can’t be denied, even in clothes. And his incredible behind needs to be squeezed—I’m not into butts, but his is the exception. Oh Lord, I need to fan myself again. I’m still a little too young to have hot flashes, so I know it’s not that—even though it definitely can happen in your forties. Ugh, I’m so not ready for the change.

  Caleb is causing my body to experience things I haven’t felt in ages. I’m not used to having these passion-filled emotions about a man.

  I also love that he’s wearing work boots. I’ve seen him in suits, but this rugged, domestic look is so damn sexy. My nipples are hard fantasizing about him running his hands up and down my body. I want to moan just thinking about it. Instead, I bite my lip to keep that sound from escaping.

  I almost drop a glass from the cabinet when I go to get him a drink of water because he has me so jittery. I practically forgot my hosting manners, but luckily remembered at one point; all he wanted was water. I’m not hungry and neither is he, so the casserole I heated up earlier will have to sit there until we develop an appetite.

  I hand him the ice-cold glass of water, and our fingers graze one another as I pass it to him. I shiver in response. Of course, it’s not the glass causing this response—oh no, that’s due to this man. Ahh, I shiver because his skin scorches mine from the sexiness and power he exudes. It’s an exciting duality that exists within him. See, he’s the sweetest man, but also has this magnetism—I know in the very depths of my being that he’s pure alpha male. I can’t help but wonder if I’ll somehow end up submitting to his every whim.

  If he notices my staring and my stupidity of being frozen in place by the brief contact, he doesn’t say anything or do anything—damn! He starts chugging the water, and I’m watching his Adam’s apple work up and down in his delicious throat as he swallows the cool liquid. I’m so transfixed by the display before me.

  How the hell can the sight of him drinking a glass of water be so sexy?

  A small drop of liquid escapes from his mouth and runs down his neck. I’m tightly balling my fists at my sides to resist from reaching out and grabbing him. God, I want to pull him to me to lick off the drop. Ugh, I can’t look anymore; it’s too much! Hearing a thunk as he sets down the glass on my black granite countertop, I turn my head and clear my throat. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. I squirm in place as I feel every girly part within me clench.

  “So, we never told each other our guilty pleasures,” he reminds me in a sexually charged low tone.

  I’m assembling the ingredients for nookie-making. Ugh! I mean cookie-making. I blow out an exasperated breath. I don’t trust myself with speech right now because I’ll flub it up again. I opt to rep
ly with a simple “hmm,” indicating that I acknowledge what he’s saying—I can’t fully give an answer as I’m sure you understand.

  I hear him laugh softly. Maybe he knows what he’s doing to me.

  “Okay, mine is a bit cheesy, but I’ll go first. My guilty pleasure is binge-watching episodes of The Golden Girls every chance I get,” he confides.

  Thank you, sweet baby Jesus! He broke the spell momentarily as I burst out laughing. God, I haven’t laughed this hard in so long at the hands of another man besides my awesome boss. Yeah, my kids make me laugh; however, it’s not the same thing. They say laughter is the best medicine; well, as a nurse I recommend this type of humor at every opportunity. He keeps the humor going by telling a joke.

  “At the risk of mocking my own profession, stop me if you’ve heard this one…. So, how does an attorney sleep at night?”

  In my bed, is what I want to say, ha! Clearly I don’t say it, biting my lip instead to quell the thoughts. I give him the universal non-committal shrug for not having prior knowledge of the punch line.

  He tuts and delivers it effectively, “First he lies on one side, and then he lies on the other.”

  We begin laughing all over again, and I turn to face him. I have big ole tears rolling down my face that I should be shielding. I’m doubled over, holding my stomach because it hurts so much. In this moment, I want to kiss him more than ever for making me feel things I should be feeling as a woman. I need this!

  He stares into my eyes, and both of us become silent. I feel like he wants to say something, but he refrains from doing so. Probably because he doesn’t think I’ll want to hear it. Earlier in the bathroom, I didn’t know how to respond to the beautiful comment, so I can appreciate his dilemma. His eyes are saying something, and I want to believe they’re telling me “I’ll never lie to you.” God, if he told me again that I’m beautiful, I’d definitely know how to respond this time—except it wouldn’t be with words.