Page 35 of Stroked Long
Fuck, here I thought joking around was a good idea, maybe not.
“Uh, I was kidding. I’m fine.”
“Why would you joke about something like that?”
“I’m not sure.” I grab the back of my neck, uncomfortable now because Ruby truly looks upset.
Shaking her head, she stands and crosses her arms in front of her chest. I know that pose: that’s adon’t fuck with mepose. Shit.
“Yeah, I was going to really try, but I don’t think I can do this anymore. I’m sorry, Bodi, but you’re going to have to leave.”
Standing tall, I search her eyes for the truth, but they are cast to the ground. Is she serious? All because I joked around? Fuck, if I knew that was going to happen, I never would have tampered in the joke department.
That’s what I get for stepping out of my comfort zone.
“Okay.” I nod and begin to take off the pink smock. “For what it’s worth, I’m really sorry, Ruby. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
I hand over the smock but she doesn’t take it, instead she grips her stomach and starts laughing so hard tears fall down her cheeks.
What the fuck is going on?
“Oh Bodi, do you really think I would be afraid of being deported to Bora Bora to make footwear for ducks? It sounds like an absolute dream to me. And the hair, well, there are things called ponytails.”
Confused as fuck, I ask, “So you were just playing around with me?”
“Of course.” She nudges my shoulder. “Please, I would know if you really hurt your shoulder. I’m sorry to say, Bodi, but acting isn’t in your near future. I would stick to the pool.”
“Christ.” I wipe my hand over my face and let out a long breath.
“But you’re so cute for trying.” Out of nowhere, she steps up to me and wraps her arms around my waist, pulling me into a hug. Her head rests against my chest and her warmth spreads through me as she squeezes me tight. I stand there like the Tin Man, unable to move and not sure what to do. Something in my brain is telling me to hug her back or to at least pat her on the head, but I’m frozen.
Everything about her feels so damn good pressed up against me.
Before I can reciprocate, she removes herself and points at the smock. “Put that back on. I need to get some ridiculous pictures of us painting. I’m going to use them in a pamphlet. Good thing you did your hair all sexy like.”
Sexy like?
“Go on,” she encourages with a smile, “I don’t have all night, Bodi.”
For some reason, I’m wishing we did, which surprises the fuck out of me.
Chapter Seven
RUBY
“And I made you cookies. Your favorite. Butterfinger with big chunks. Maybe you can share them with your swimming friend, Bodi.”
“He doesn’t eat candy, Mom. Or cookies for that matter. He’s kind of a health freak, and we are just work acquaintances.”
“Is that why his picture is front and center in your living space?”
The canvas Bodi stroked on two nights ago is sitting in the faux fireplace in my living space, hiding all the knick-knacks and decorations that occupied the space previously. I initially put it up there to dry but I can’t seem to take it down now.
I don’t think I’d ever had as much fun as I did the other night with Bodi. He was awkward, testing his limits,obviouslystepping out of his comfort zone when it came to joking around, but it was endearing. From the way he pulled on the back of his neck to how quickly he retreated his hands to his pockets when he got a chance, everything about him reminded me of a little boy stuck in a man’s body . . . a very hot man’s body.
And then that laugh. Holy goat nipples, it sounded like some erotic melody coming from his mouth. It’s deep, with a touch of husk, and a whole lot of sexy. The type of laugh that will drive any woman to her knees, begging to hear it one more time.
“It’s just drying, Mom.” I dig into her cookies and plop one in my mouth. I’m not an Olympian. I don’t care what goes into my body, as long as I work it off in a step aerobics or Zumba class later then I’m good to go.
