Cut Loose Page 4

  But I didn’t sleep in that day. I woke up when I heard Laurel leaving for work and couldn’t fall back to sleep. It was only 8:00 a.m., but I was too full of nervous energy. The four hours before I met James were going to be excruciating.

  Hopping out of bed, I threw on some leggings and a tank top and drove to the dance studio. Ryan was a smart business owner. Since most of his dancers were in school during the day, he’d added Barre exercise classes for adults to the schedule. And since we were friends, he’d given me a standing invitation to join any class I wanted. I hadn’t stopped in to any preschool tap classes yet—though I had been sorely tempted—but I had been to Barre a few times.

  The instructor was a cheerful, incredibly fit woman named Gina. She directed us to stand by the barre ballet dancers used for their warm-ups and stretches and took us through an aerobic version of the same.

  “Okay, now hold the barre, feet out, knees over the toes, arm in second position,” Gina called enthusiastically. “Now grand plie, up and down, up and down, squeeze those glutes, ladies!”

  My leg muscles were quivering by the end of the class. I had only started dancing again a few months ago, so I wasn’t in the shape I had been when I’d done it professionally. I looked around at the other women in the class and judging from their sweat-free brows and high, tight asses, they were probably regulars. I might need to add Barre class to my Monday routine so I, too, could have buns of steel.

  I sat on the bench in the lobby for a few minutes, scrolling through my phone and willing my legs to return to their normal form instead of their current jelly-ness.

  Sensing someone watching me, I looked up and my heart skipped a beat. A few beats.

  “James!” I cried out, a bit louder than the small distance between us called for.

  He stood right outside of the office, arms crossed, leaning one shoulder against the wall. I licked my lips as I took him in, scuffed leather boots, dark-fitted jeans, and a gray Henley. His shaggy hair looked like he’d just run his hands through it. In comparison to the hair on his head, his thick beard was long, but immaculately groomed. I’d never gotten over the urge to tug on it.

  James held one hand up. “Hi, Frannie.”

  I patted the bench and he slowly sauntered over and sat down next to me.

  “Are you helping your brother out again?”

  He nodded. His eyes moved to my forehead. “I like your hair like that.” He gestured to the top of my head.

  I patted my sweaty hair. I’d twisted my bangs back and pinned as much of my short hair up as I could. He was seeing a whole lot of bare Frannie face.

  “You know, it’s not really fair that you’re seeing me like this. I had a whole adorable outfit planned out, and here I am with no makeup in my workout clothes.”

  “You look nice to me,” he said quietly. “Should I pretend I didn’t see you?”

  I laughed. “How would that work?”

  James stroked his beard for a moment. “I didn’t really think the offer through. But you can still wear your ‘adorable outfit’ later.”

  “Oh, you better believe I will, buddy.” I smiled. “What are you doing for Ryan?”

  He glanced toward the office. “Just some stuff on the computer. Nothing major.”

  “Cool. It’s nice that he has you close by.” I checked the time on my phone. “Well, if I’m going to meet you in an hour and a half, I’d better get shakin’.”

  “Can I ride with you again?” he asked.

  “You didn’t drive yourself here?”

  He shook his head. “Ryan drove this morning. He’s out on an errand right now.” He paused, his eyes moving around my face. “I’m ready to go now, though. Would you mind?”

  “Not at all! Let’s hit it.” I grabbed my bag and walked toward the exit. James was right behind me, his large, warm presence unmistakable.

  He went through the whole folding himself like a pretzel routine to fit in my car, and I watched with a smile.

  When he settled in, he saw me watching and smirked. “The whole big man/little car thing never gets old, does it?”

  I chuckled. “It really doesn’t. So, can I take you to your place?”

  “No, that’s okay. I’ll just walk from your apartment.”

  As I drove, James’ eyes stayed locked on me. I’d grown used to his gaze now and it warmed me all the way to my toes.

  “Are you working later?” I asked to break the silence.

  “I might tonight if they need me. Mondays are pretty slow, though.”

  I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. “What do you usually do on Mondays then?”

  He hummed, the sound coming from deep in his chest. “A lot of computer work for my other job. I guess my main job.”

  “Really? I can’t picture you sitting at a desk all day.”

  “I can demonstrate if you have a computer at your place. Then you’ll be able to picture me that way.”

  A loud laugh burst out of me. “You’re funny. Why didn’t I know you were funny? I thought you were all brood-y.”

  “I can brood with the best of them. But I like to break up my brooding with a joke here and there, for variety,” James said. From the corner of my eye I could see the smile playing on his lips.

  I smiled too. “Good. Too much brooding is bad for the soul.”

  When we parked in my garage, I expected to part ways with James for a little while, but he started walking with me toward the elevator.

  “You’re coming with me?”

  He shrugged. “I’ll probably start working if I go home, and I don’t really want to do that. I can keep myself busy while you’re getting dressed…if that’s okay with you, of course.”

  I liked the idea of James being in my apartment. I wanted to see what he looked like there, how much room he occupied. He’d been there once before of course, but everything had been so frenzied that night, I hadn’t gotten the chance to really notice any details.

  After unlocking the door, I let James into my apartment. He noticed me taking my shoes off and lining them neatly on the rack, then he bent down, way, way down, and removed his boots too.

  “Do you have a no-shoes-in-the-house rule?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “I don’t really have any rules in my place.”

  I wiggled my eyebrows. “Oooh, no rules. Sounds fun.”

  “Or chaotic, depending on how you look at it.”

  Grinning, I pointed to the living room. “You can hang out in there. If you want anything to drink, feel free. I’ll be out in a little bit.”

  He sauntered over toward the couch and said over his shoulder, “Don’t worry about me. I’ll just be out here snooping through your things.”

  I showered as quickly as I could, not bothering to shave my legs. As attracted to James as I was, I knew we wouldn’t be having sex. That wasn’t what today was about.

  I blew my short, wavy hair dry, pulling my long bangs down to swoop across my forehead. I applied just a little bit of makeup, then nodded at my reflection, satisfied with the job I’d done.

  I wrapped a towel around my body and darted to my bedroom. Before I left for the dance studio, I had raked through my closet, laying out several choices. I texted Laurel and Rachel pictures of all the outfits, and they both agreed on the same one.

  Sitting on the edge of my bed, I pulled on a pair of “holey” skinny jeans and a thin emerald green sweater with a white tank top underneath. Before I left the room, I threw on a long silver necklace too.

  James was tapping on his phone when I walked into the living room. He didn’t notice me at first, so I got to observe him for a minute. He sat on my gray couch, staring intensely at his phone. I had to fight the urge to knock it out of his hand and climb into his lap so he’d stare at me with the same intensity.

  He didn’t notice I was there until I stood right in front of him. He tipped his head back and I grinned down at him.

  “I like you in my living room.”

  I sat right next
to him, with my feet tucked under me. Without thinking, I reached out and ran my hand down the side of his beard.

  I sighed. “It’s as soft as it looks.”

  He put his phone down. “Would you think I was weird if I told you I put special beard conditioner in it?”

  I shook my head. “Why wouldn’t you? No one wants a scratchy beard. Yours is just lovely. I bet it smells good too.”

  He leaned closer and whispered, “I put oil in it every day too.”

  I clutched my chest. “You’re speaking my language, James. A man who takes care of his hair is…mmm.” I gazed at him dreamily. “Can I sniff it?”

  He jutted his beard toward me. “Go ahead.”

  Resting my hand on his strong shoulder, I leaned in, ran my nose over his beard, and inhaled deeply.

  “Delicious,” I said. “You smell like oranges and spice. I want to climb inside your beard and live there for a while.”

  He chuckled softly. “I’m not sure the logistics of that would pan out, but I like the idea of you climbing on any part of me.”

  I noticed he’d put one of the throw pillows on his lap and he shifted around. James was aroused, just from me being close and sniffing him. Knowing I had that effect on him made my belly tighten with desire.

  I bit my lip. “I like that idea too, James.”

  The air felt thick and heavy with sexual tension, tension I thought we’d dissipated on our night together. It surged back with a vengeance this time and I savored the feeling of anticipation.

  He cleared his throat. “You’re not from Maryland, are you, Frannie?”

  Startled by the abrupt change of subject, I had to think for a moment until his question registered. “No, I grew up in Philly. Why?”

  “I was thinking about what we could do for lunch. Have you ever had Maryland crabs?”

  I shook my head. “I’ve had a crab cake, but I’ve never had a whole crab.”

  “Do you want to become a real Marylander?”

  I bounced up and down on the couch. “Will I get to wear one of those plastic bibs? And use the little wooden hammer?”

  James laughed. “Yep! Should we go for it?”

  Jumping off the couch, I cried, “Let’s do it!”

  I held my hands out to him, and when he put his in mine, I pulled him to his feet. Well, I pulled. He did most of the work.

  Patting his hard chest, I gazed up at him. “You sure are tall.”

  He placed his baseball mitt of a hand on top of my head. “You’re not exactly short, Frannie.”

  “True, but standing by you makes me feel that way.” I pushed him toward the door. “Let’s go, big guy.”

  We went to the closet by the front door to put on our shoes and jackets. After slipping on my heeled ankle boots, I stepped close to him again.

  “That’s better, we’re almost eye to eye now,” I said.

  “I like you up here,” he said softly.

  I licked my lips. “Are you gonna give me crabs?”

  James’ eyes widened before a laugh burst from him. “I am, Frannie, I’m going to give you lots and lots of crabs.”

  He made me laugh. He awakened the dormant butterflies in my stomach. And I wanted him.

  I was already in deeper than I’d ever intended on going, and my unbidden feelings for him were like a siren, calling me out to sea.

  Oh fudge!

  Eight

  The restaurant was just a ten-minute walk from my apartment. Even though the day was cool, we asked to sit on the deck overlooking the water. Cold toes were a sacrifice I’d always make for that view.

  When the waitress came over, James looked at me. “We have to have Natty Bohs with our crabs.”

  I smiled and nodded, so he continued, confirming our order.

  “We’ll have two and crabs for the table.”

  The waitress scribbled on her pad. “I’ll be right back with your beers, hon,” she said as she walked away.

  Natty Boh was the nickname for National Bohemian beer, originally brewed in Baltimore in the late 1800s. To be a true Marylander, you had to love Natty Boh, and you had to know it went with crabs like peanut butter goes with jelly.

  When the waitress brought us our beers, I took a long drink to fortify myself. Not for the crabs, but to discuss the awkward topic we seemed to both be skating around.

  “So, James.”

  He grimaced slightly, as if he knew what was coming. “Yes, Frannie?”

  “I was your first, huh?”

  He sighed and looked down at the paper covering the table. He played with a loose corner, running his thumb along the edge.

  “Yeah.”

  I exhaled, then tapped my fingernails on the table, not sure how to proceed. He wasn’t giving me much help either.

  “How is that possible?” I scrunched up my nose.

  He chuckled softly. “How is what possible?”

  Cocking my head, I groaned, “Jaaames.”

  He mimicked me by cocking his head to the side too, his eyes roaming my face.

  When I realized he wasn’t going to say anything, I asked, “Why were you still a virgin?”

  He seemed to try to play it cool. “My ex-girlfriend wanted to wait until marriage. We’d been together since we were fifteen. I loved her, so I waited.” He shrugged.

  “And what about after you broke up?”

  “I met you and I didn’t wait anymore.”

  Just as I was about to ask ten thousand follow-up questions, our waitress reappeared with a basket of steamed crabs, which she dumped right on the paper-covered table. Beside the pile of crabs, she put down Old Bay seasoning, two wooden mallets, and two small knives.

  “Anything else I can get you?” the waitress asked.

  “I’ll take another Natty Boh.” I raised an eyebrow at James. “You too?”

  He nodded. “Sure.”

  “Okay, hon, be right back with your beers. Enjoy!”

  I held up a finger. “I’m not done with my questions yet, but I need an eating crab 101 class.”

  He smiled. “I didn’t expect you to let me off so easily.” He picked up a crab from the pile. “Step one, choose a crab.”

  I snorted. “I think I can manage that!”

  James showed me how to pull off each crab leg and pick out the meat inside. He seemed like a professional at dismantling the crabs; he didn’t leave a scrap of meat behind.

  After I’d gotten through two crabs and another beer, I leaned back in my chair.

  “That is a lot of work for not much pay out. I’m not even full!”

  His eyes left the crab he’d been working on to meet mine. “Yeah, it’s kind of more about socializing. It’s the kind of meal that can take hours. By the time you’re done, you’re hungry again.”

  Something about his description reminded me of sex, and I squirmed in my seat.

  I leaned forward again. “Tell me more about your ex-girlfriend. How long were you together?”

  James cleared his throat and, looking back down at his crab, he replied, “Seven years.”

  Banging my hand on the table, I cried, “Seven years?” I glanced around, glad we were alone on the deck since my words had come out louder than intended.

  I squinted at him. “How old are you, James?”

  Quietly, he replied, “Twenty-three.”

  I banged the table again. “Twenty-three?”

  James laughed softly. “Yeah.”

  “But you…you’re all—” I stammered, gesturing at him wildly with my hands.

  He smiled a little, seemingly amused by how flustered I was. “I’m all what?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know, manly?”

  “I’m definitely a man, Frannie.” James crossed his arms over his chest and watched me.

  I bit my lip and scanned his full beard, broad chest, and thick arms.

  “You are definitely a man. Twenty-three is just so young.”

  “Not that young.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Do you know ho
w old I am?”

  “I know you’re a little older than me.”

  Narrowing my eyes further, I asked, “How do you know? Do I look older?”

  He chuckled. “You make me laugh. I know you’re Ryan’s age, Frannie. Six years isn’t a huge difference.”

  I thought back to what I’d been doing at twenty-three. I’d just ended my relationship experiment, so I was bed hopping and hadn’t found Salon 410 yet, so I was job hopping too. I’d lived in a row house with five other girls who were complete slobs. We partied way too much. I only had three states at twenty-three: working, drunk, or hungover, and sometimes two of the three overlapped.

  I’d done a lot of growing up over the last six years. But when I looked at James, he didn’t seem anything like my twenty-three-year-old self. I bet he had health insurance and a 401k.

  “I have a feeling you’re not a normal twenty-three-year-old,” I said.

  Shaking his head, James replied, “I’ve never been a normal anything.”

  Not knowing what he meant or how to respond, I let that go, instead asking another question burning in my mind. “What ended your relationship with your ex?” I pried. “I’m surprised you didn’t get married when you turned eighteen or something. There had to be a whole lot of blue balls and sexual frustration built up between the two of you.”

  “We kind of avoided the topic of marriage, actually. I knew, and I think deep down she did too, that we weren’t a match and were more friends than anything else. We stayed together out of habit, but we were never going to grow old together. It didn’t help that she moved to Ohio for college and had no intention of coming back. When she finally gave me an ultimatum, that was that, and we broke up.”

  “Well, damn. Seven years is a long time to be with one person and never get laid. And it’s a long time to say that was that in the end.”

  “It’s just what happened. I didn’t want to pretty it up.”

  Picking up another crab, I thought about what he’d said. I couldn’t picture being with the same person for so long, especially without sex. James didn’t seem heartbroken about it, though, which surprised me. I didn’t understand love, hadn’t experienced it, but I’d witnessed it enough to know that when it ended, one person was usually left broken on the floor.