If You Lived Here, You'd Be Home Now by Claire Lazebnik

Author:Claire Lazebnik
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: FIC000000, Fiction, General
ISBN: 9780446574402
Publisher: 5 Spot
Published: 2010-09-27T04:00:00+00:00

The doorbell rang at exactly 4 p.m. I called out “I’ve got it” and opened the door to Coach Andrew, who held out a bunch of flowers. “For the ladies of the house,” he said.

“Oh, shit,” I said. “Oops, sorry. I mean, thanks for the flowers. But someone should have told you we don’t dress up for Thanksgiving here.”

“Yes, I see that,” he said with a meaningful glance at my jeans and tank top. He was wearing a jacket and tie and nice black leather shoes. No baseball cap for once. He looked weird without it, almost unrecognizable. His hair was darker than I had realized—as dark as his eyes.

“Not that you don’t look nice,” I said. “But maybe a little hot?” It was over eighty degrees out. Sweat was plastering down the hair at his temples.

“Does this mean I can take off the jacket and tie?”

“You can and you should.” I let him in and he entered the house, shrugging off the jacket and loosening the tie so fast you’d think they were suffocating him. “Just throw them on the sofa.”

He tossed aside the extra clothing then went to work on the top button of his shirt. Once he got that open, he started in on his cuffs, undoing the buttons and rolling the sleeves up over his wrists.

“The pants are staying on, right?” I said, leaning against the sofa back. I was enjoying the striptease. “I mean, we’re casual, but we’re not that casual.”

“I’m done.” With his clothing all deconstructed like that, he looked like a movie nerd suddenly turned hunky and athletic after a workout montage and a few drinks. To add to the effect, he even ran his fingers through his hair so it looked a little thicker and messier. “Okay,” he said with what appeared to be a genuine sigh of relief. “I feel much better. Part of the reason I became a coach is so I’d never have to wear a jacket and tie to work.”

“Is Thanksgiving usually dressy at your home?” I asked, leading him back toward the kitchen.

He nodded. “My grandparents are formal people and they kind of set the tone. Gotten used to your new hair yet?” He brushed his hand across the top of my head.

“Hey!” I said, ducking a little.

“Sorry.” He quickly retracted his hand. “It’s just so tempting. But I should have asked for permission first.”

“It’s okay. It’s just that people keep doing that to me. I’m starting to feel like a dog.”

“Speaking of which, where is the First Lady of the United States?”

“Right there.” We had reached the entrance to the kitchen, and I pointed to where Eleanor Roosevelt sat, intently watching Melanie put the finishing touches to a pie like she could will her into tossing her something to eat.

“What kind of guard dog is she, anyway? Letting a stranger come waltzing in without a bark? Come here, girl!” She looked up at the sound of Andrew’s voice and broke her pose, dashing over to greet him.

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