Domestic Bliss

Chapter 3

Dean groaned as he let himself into the condo. He hadn't seen Teri's car downstairs in the garage and for once he was glad that she wasn't home. He normally was eager for the company and he would admit that the fact that she was really easy on the eyes helped a lot. But he'd had a weird day and he just didn't need her fussing all over him like she was his mother. Which again was weird because he enjoyed being fussed over. Tiffany had done that a lot. Teri relished playing the role of den mother/house wife/baby sitter, whatever it was she actually thought she was doing. They didn't talk much about their personal lives, but one night she'd had enough to drink to loosen her tongue and she'd implied that her marriage ended because she wanted to be a housewife and hopefully someone's mother and that's not at all what her much older husband had wanted.

Poor kid. He chuckled, for all the times she made him feel like she was his mom, he was actually older than her. He hoped someday she'd meet a man who appreciated all that beauty and love she had to give.

It certainly wouldn't be him, for all he appreciated what she was doing for him. He wasn't going to get involved with anyone until he figured out who he was. Been there, done that with a woman who had her own ideas about who he was and where they were going. Besides small and dark wasn't really his thing, despite how beautiful Teri was.

Which is why he was glad she wasn't home. Oh, she'd probably listen to his whining about how god damn awful and awkward he felt making that stupid commercial. And unlike Mindy, she probably wouldn't be tsking about how he should be grateful for the work. But she'd also want to make him comfort food or act like a mother hen and he just wanted to be alone for a while. Not forever, he couldn't take that, but an hour would be nice.

God, what was he doing? He hated acting. Absolutely hated it. Well, maybe he just wasn't looking in the right places. Or the right parts. Or his agent sucked.

Or maybe, the voice in his head chided him, maybe you're wrong for acting. It took more than being good looking. And he wasn't going to model, that seemed even more awkward and humiliating then the awful fast food ad he just shot was.

He groaned again, sinking down onto the couch. At least he had the money from football but even that kind of money wasn't going to last forever, not when he'd only played for two seasons. Plus he was 26, he had years of his life left, he couldn't live forever on that money bouncing around.

He looked at his watch, well, with any luck, Teri wouldn't be home for a couple of hours. More than enough time to get his act together so she wouldn't know how discouraged he felt.

And more than enough time to work on what he really enjoyed.

Two hours later, Teri came home, a small grocery bag carrying what she'd forgotten to pick up earlier in the week for their dinner. She found her roommate in the living room, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of their coffee table, his fingers flying across the keyboard of a laptop, so engrossed he didn't hear her come in.

She quietly crept into the kitchen to put the groceries away and then she came back in, carrying a glass of water. She set it on the coffee table, taking his empty one away.

When she returned from putting it in the sink, he finally looked up at her.

"Oh, hi," he grinned bashfully. "I didn't hear you come in."

"I noticed," she curled up on the couch. "How was your day?"

He could tell she was dying to know what he was actually up to, but trying to small talk her way into it.

He shrugged, his earlier disappointment had faded away as he lost himself in the pages of his novel. "I filmed a commercial today."

"Oh! You mentioned you got that. How was it?"

"Interesting," he said softly, clearly not wanting to talk about it. "How was your day?" She never really talked about her job, but sometimes she came back clearly frustrated. She didn't seem to be today.

She shrugged the same as he did. "It was alright."

"What's for dinner?" he asked, kind of filling the space.

"Pasta. Okay, I'm just gonna ask. What's with the laptop?"

"Well, Hatcher, it's this nifty device that lets you . . . ."

"Oh shut it, Cain," she threw one of her throw pillows at his head. "What had you so engrossed? You weren't playing a video game or surfing the net. You were typing."

"Yeah, I was." She continued to stare at him. He groaned. He knew he should have done this in his room. Now the jig was up. "I was writing."

"Ooh," Teri sat up. "What were you writing? A screenplay? A letter? Your memoirs?"

"My memoirs?" Dean laughed. "I'm 26, what the hell would I be writing about?"

Teri shrugged. "I don't know. But you played football, so maybe it's a how to?"

"It's none of those things. I umm . . . ." He turned red and looked away. "I write novels."

"You do? That's awesome! What kind? Why are you turning red? You don't write Harlequins on the side do you?"

"Uh, not quite, but they are . . . ." He was getting redder by the minute.

"Oh, come on Cain! Why so red? Do you write smutty fanfic for Wattpad or something?"

"What?" Dean looked confused, none of those words meant anything to him. "Wattpad?"

Teri rolled her eyes. "Okay, so not smut or fanfic."

"I'm not sure what fanfic is," he looked confused. "I've heard the term smut in old movies. I mean, I do write . . .ugh, this is embarrassing. "

"What do you write chick lit?" Teri giggled.

"Not quite. Historical romances. I mean, yeah there's love scenes, but I don't think they're particularly graphic or anything. But I suppose . . .yeah, it's not what you'd expect someone like me to be writing."

Teri stared at him, her mouth hanging open. Of all of the things he could have told her, that was not anything she imagined. But then again, appearances were deceiving. She certainly deceived people with her looks and her baby doll voice. At least, that's what her ex-husband had told her. Why couldn't Dean be surprising with his tastes?

"Can I read one?" came out of her mouth unprompted.

"I've never published one. I kinda . . .well putting my name on one is embarrassing."

"What cuz you're a jock? Or a guy? Or a football player?" The look on his face answered her question. "You know writers use fake names all the time right? They even gender bend, men writing as women, women writing as men. Or they use a name that's unisex and never really reveal who they are."

"Huh," Dean looked confused like it never occurred to him. Clearly his major at that Midwestern school had not been English.

"Anyway, can I read one?"

"Well, if you don't mind just reading a Word document, I can email you one."

Teri grinned. "Save it as a pdf and I'll read it on my tablet."

"Okay . . . ." Dean still looked reluctant. "I mean, it's not that great. I just write them . . .I don't know as something to do when I don't know what else to do. They're not edited or anything."

"Why don't you let me be the judge of that? I like to read. Besides," Teri smirked. "Entertainment in exchange for feeding you sounds like a fair trade off to me."

"What? I already pay for the food!"

"Well," Teri pointed out. "You eat way more than me because you're bigger and it's not like I'm a millionaire like you are."

Dean rolled his eyes. "If I don't get a career going I won't be a millionaire forever."

"Well why you still are, you can buy food and pay me back in literature." She tapped his arm. "Now get to emailing, I'm gonna start dinner."

He just shook his head as he watched bounce off into the kitchen. He was going to regret this, this much was obvious.