I am so engrossed in scrubbing a pot that I don't notice Ian until he is mere inches behind me. He puts his hand on my shoulder and I nearly jump out of my skin. I scream, my hands flying up in front of my face as I whip around and then stumble backward. There isn't far to go, the sink is right behind me, but Ian reaches out to grab me nonetheless. He pulls me up against his chest, steadying me in the process.
All air leaves my lungs and my nipples harden as a wave of heat washes through me and my body begins to tingle. I am painfully aware of every point where our bodies touch, especially his large hands around my upper arms which are pulling me tighter into his chest. I raise my eyes to look at him, and I see a burning there that matches my own. Completely against my will, I begin to raise up on my toes, my hands splayed across his chest, and tilt my head to the right with every intention of kissing him. He leans towards me too, his eyes dropping to my lips and his hips pressing into mine.
"Everyone's out, boss," Hal says in a booming voice.
Caught in the act, we spring apart as if shocked, and I turn back to the sink without even looking at Hal. I'm sure he saw us, I'm sure he has some idea of what was about to happen. What will he think? Will he think Ian and I are sleeping together? Oh, what a glorious thought. Sleeping with Ian. My mind wanders to what that might be like and I forget to be embarrassed.
"Thanks, Hal. Can you sweep and mop tonight? I need to take Kelli home since she was only supposed to work a couple hours. I'll be back in ten," Ian says.
At the mention of my name, I turn around. Ian has put a few feet between us and has busied himself with putting what little is left of the stew into plastic bags.
"Sure. Night, Kel," Hal says, grabbing the broom and heading out.
"Let's go," Ian says, heading to the door. I know there is no point in arguing with him, he won't sacrifice my safety, so I grab my purse and follow him out.
He opens the door to his truck and I jump in. Buckling up, I wonder if I should say something about what almost happened. I look over at him as he gets in the truck and the little light on the roof of the cab shows a stoic face, one that does not look in any way, shape or form interested in discussing a kiss that did not occur. So I look out the window instead, and we ride in silence.
******
I'm getting out of the shower the next morning when I hear my iPhone chime, indicating I have a new text.
"Kel, you've got a text," Rachel calls out from the other side of the door.
"Who's it from?" I ask, pulling on some panties and a pair of black yoga pants.
"Oh my god!" Rachel exclaims. "It's from Ian!"
Still half naked, I throw my arm over my chest and rush to Rachel's side. "What does it say?"
"He writes, ‘What are you two up to today?' Why do you think he wants to know?"
"I have no idea," I say as I take the phone from her.
"What should I tell him?" I ask Rachel, truly at a loss for how to respond. Ian has never texted me before, except for work. What could he want?
"How about the truth?" Rachel says.
"Yeah, but, what if he wants to do something with us?" I ask hopefully.
"Sweetie, you know I think he's an idiot for not having ravished you and claimed you for his own by now, but since that hasn't happened, I'm guessing he has a different intent behind asking the question. He might want you to work or something."
"Yeah, you're right." I haven't had time to tell Rachel about the near kiss yet, but it doesn't really change anything. He's had every opportunity to take our relationship to the next level, and his inaction has made it clear that he isn't going to do that.
Not much. Heading to Cora's, then beach. Prob spend afternoon at the Grove.
Although I'm dying to write WHY???? I refrain. I stare at my phone, waiting for him to respond. A full two minutes go by and I look at Rachel.
"What the hell?" I ask.
"I don't know," Rachel starts to answer, but she's interrupted by the chime.
Want to see the Getty Villa? Have a friend who works there, can get us in this morning.
I look at Rachel, my eyes wide. She nods her head vigorously and so I type:
That would be wonderful.
Rachel has come over to watch the screen with me. We only have to wait a few seconds this time before the response.
OK to pick you up in an hour? I need to be back at the pub by 2.
Of course. See you then.
Great.
I look at Rachel, "Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!"
I fly into motion. "What do I wear?"
"A dress, definitely a dress!" Rachel says forcefully.
Together we review my wardrobe and pick a cute, spaghetti strapped pink and black polka dotted dress that is sweet and flirty. I spend ten minutes on my hair - a lifetime for me - and do my make-up. Damn, I had been looking forward to being a slouch in yoga pants today, but I don't want to miss the opportunity to look good for Ian. He's never seen me in a dress.
Exactly an hour after the last text, there is a knock on my door. Rachel and I exchange a quick glance and then I open it. Immediately, Ian takes my breath away. He's standing there with his hands in the pockets of his pants, khakis, wearing a green polo the color of his eyes. I've never seen him in anything other than jeans and a dark t-shirt. He looks light and handsome, and I can't help but smile at him. Even though it has been less than a week since we had our falling out, all my hurt feelings have vanished. He is so magnetic and fighting my attraction is too hard. I give up.
"Hey," I say.
"Hey," he responds, smiling down at me. "You look beautiful."
"Thanks," I say, blushing slightly. At this point, Rachel pops her head over my left shoulder.
"Hi Ian!"
He smiles at her, "Hey Rachel. Ready for some art?"
"Most definitely," she replies. "I read all about it online and it sounds unbelievable."
"I've always wanted to go," I say. "I took an art history class in college and a number of the pieces we learned about were at the Getty. It'll be so cool to see them in real life."
We've headed out front and I don't see Ian's truck. Just then Sean pops out from the driver's seat of the blue Corolla parked in front of my place.
"Rachel, nice to see you again," he says as he jogs over to open the passenger side door for her.
"Hi Sean," I say. "Nice to see you too."
"Right, hey Kelli," he replies. "Rachel, how are you enjoying your time in L.A.?"
He is so solicitous I wonder for a moment if I should remind him that Rachel is married, but now that I'm approaching the car I suddenly realize that Ian and I will be in the back seat together. Normally I get terribly carsick, but I have a feeling I won't mind so much this time.
Ian gets my door for me and we settle in. The conversation flows easily, mostly between Rachel and Sean. It isn't a long drive and I sit and try to enjoy the moment. It's something I'm working on - being in the here and now. I'm such a planner, such a worrier, but planning hasn't gotten me the life I want, so now I'm trying a new tactic - being ‘present'. Buddha, the Dali Lama, they say it's the way to peace and happiness, so let's give it a try. Rachel, Ian, a warm Saturday morning on my way to a great museum; this is worth devoting all my energy to experience.
We arrive and Ian's friend has arranged VIP parking for us at no charge. With a quick text, Ian's friend arrives at the entrance to usher us in. Once inside, I'm spellbound.
The museum is a reproduction of an Italian villa. The grounds are meticulously kept, and there are statues and frescos everywhere you look. I've always wanted to go to Italy, and being here I can easily pretend. Rachel, Sean and Ian are peppering Ian's friend, Frank, with questions about the collection and the property. I hear it, but I lag behind, focusing more on the environment than any one piece of art. In my head, I'm a nineteenth century daughter of a wealthy merchant family. I look at Ian, imagining him to be my recently betrothed. See, my family is wealthy enough for me to marry for love, and so I'm not forced into a political marriage. Instead I'm able to marry Fernando, whom I've had an eye on since he arrived in our village last summer.
"What are you thinking about?" Ian asks, looking back at me with an amused smile on his face.
Shaking my head, I mumble, "Nothing," and catch up with the others. He lets out a small laugh but doesn't press me further. How does he always know when I'm fantasizing about him? It's incredibly annoying.