Jack Who?

CHAPTER 19

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THE NEXT AFTERNOON, they sat in a line of cushy seats, impatiently waiting for the latest Pixar sensation to begin. A large tub of shared popcorn rested in Tristan’s lap. Tristan was between them, but Jack was getting most of the little boy’s attention. The lights dimmed, and instead of watching the previews, she covertly observed father and son.

     Jack was dressed in low profile mode, his hair and arms hidden in a hoodie, but when the lights went down, he shrugged the jacket off. Tristan traced the art on Jack’s arm, a tiny finger brushing over the colorful guitar and the music notes. He seemed at ease with it, and she had to assume that by going out last night, she had missed the big reveal of Jack taking off his jacket. How she would have loved to have seen Tristan’s face, and to have heard his questions.

     When the credits began to roll, Jack suggested a restaurant, but Tristan wanted to drive through and carry food home.

     “Are you hurting buddy?” Jack asked with an anxious perusal of their boy. When Tristan shook his head declaring he just wanted to eat at home, Jack let the subject drop. However, the glance he slid her way was sad and perceptive. Tristan was embarrassed on crutches. Only the anticipation of seeing one of his favorite animated characters on an IMAX screen had lured him into the theater.

    

     Back at the house, they dug into their supreme tacos while watching another movie, this one from Tristan’s DVD collection. Since Tristan had seen it a dozen times, he gave her no problems about a bath midway through. After getting him into the tub, along with the requested Hot Wheels cars and colored bubbles thrown in as extra bribery, she checked the thermostat, making sure the air conditioner wouldn’t kick on, and left the bathroom door ajar.

     Halting at the end of the hallway, she took in Jack sprawled on the couch. Just like last night, he looked as if he had occupied that spot a hundred times over. Despite the angry sparks flying between them last night, all day long, sparks of a different kind had kindled between them. Their flirtatious behavior had been rampant enough that even Tristan, an oblivious innocent child, had noticed a couple of times.

     Jack was quick with the one-line innuendos, and after being astonished and rendered speechless the first couple of times, she’d boomeranged them right back.

     At the theater, he’d held the door open while first Tristan, then she, passed through. His hand rested on her back as he followed– a hand that accidentally brushed her rear when he later let it drop to pay for the refreshments. As they watched the movie, his arm stretched across the back of Tristan’s seat enough to allow his fingers to brush her shoulder, caress her neck, and play in her hair.

     Now, intermittent splashes and happy hums sounded from the bathroom. Their son was occupied, and before she could talk herself out of the impulse, she went with it. Ignoring Jack’s perplexed look when she advanced so quickly, she dropped to the couch. With first one knee, and then the other, she straddled him. Using her weight to hold him, she closed each of her hands vice-like on his upper arms.

     “Mmh, Mariss, what’s up…” In keeping with the surreal day, a day that felt like they were a couple, a family, the husky, sensual pitch of his words did not let her down.

     “Paybacks.” Readily, she spoke against his lips.

     Her tongue traced his lips, teasing the corners, and her teeth tugged at his bottom one. A deep rumble in his throat drove her to deepen the kiss, and he remained compliant, participating without taking over. It was fun and fiery being the one to plunder, to pace things, and she kissed and kissed, staring into those dark eyes whenever their eyes would blink open at the same time.