Eversea A Love Story

Then he stepped back and appraised the house once more. Taking in the white expanse of the front and the large Lowcountry-style rocking chair front porch, I knew he could see past the peeling paint and broken shutters. His gaze took in the careful way I had planted pots on either side of the door and how clean and swept I kept the place. This house had pride.
    “Do you happen to know what I did before I got famous?” he asked.
    I shook my head. “I told you. I’m not your groupie.”
    He pursed his lips. “I know, I know. Sorry. Well, let’s just say I have an idea.”
     
    F O U R
    “I’m coming. Ouch!” I yelped as I stubbed my pinky toe on the hall table on my way to the front door. Grabbing my foot, I hopped the last few steps.
    For obvious reasons, I’d lain awake for several hours the night before reliving every single nuance of my bizarre encounter with Jack Eversea. My dreams, when sleep blessedly arrived, hadn’t given me much reprieve. So the pounding on the door at nine in the morning had caught me in a full on coma.
    Opening the door, I squinted into the bright day just in time to see a tall, bare-chested mess of sweat and exertion in dark glasses pushing past me into my house. What the—?
    Jack .
    I lost my balance and went flying backwards. The next few seconds were a ridiculous cacophony of squeals, grunts, and flailing limbs as Jack tried to reach for me and kick the door closed behind him at the same time.
    “What the hell?” my winded voice finally managed just as we hit the floor, Jack sprawled completely on top of me. He scrambled up quickly like he’d been stung.
    “Shit. Sorry. I just ... people were walking past and they were looking at me. I panicked.” He glanced back at the door to make sure it was closed and took his sunglasses off.
    I still lay sprawled like a starfish on my hall floor, dressed in the small Hello Kitty sleep shorts and spaghetti strap tank I’d slept in. Not enough clothes to be meeting male visitors. Certainly not how I envisioned seeing Jack Eversea this morning. I could almost hear Nana sniff disapprovingly from wherever she was haunting the house at this precise moment. Thank God I hadn’t removed the old floral carpet yet or I’d have a butt full of splinters to round out the moment.
    “So you thought accosting me half-naked as I opened the door would arouse less suspicion?” I narrowed my eyes, making a colossal effort to keep them on his face and not stray down his glistening ... I slipped just once ... yes, glistening chest. Seriously? I groaned and closed my eyes letting my head fall back hard on the floor, ignoring his outstretched hand. Maybe I could knock myself out and I wouldn’t remember this. And my God, up close, he smelled like sand and sea and the ocean breeze ... and ... like ... man. I’d always thought my avoidance of all things male would keep me out of trouble long enough to see my dreams of leaving town through, but I was beginning to sense my mistake. A little prior romantic experience with men would have really helped about now.
    “Sorry. I ran straight here from my jog. Are you hurt? Let me help you up.” Jack’s worried tone made me pull myself together.
    I grabbed his hand and got to my feet. My tank was damp from his sweat. I wanted to be disgusted, I really did. I thought back to my brother Joey and the way he’d be all like “let me give you a hug, sis” right after coming back from working out. “Gross!” I’d yell. But, now? Now, I wanted to lick the sweat off this guy’s six-pack. And that tattoo on his shoulder ... surprisingly, it was real, not painted on for a movie. I sighed. This was so not good. There was only one way this was going to end. Me: ruined for all men, sitting on my own, or maybe with Jazz, in the back of dark theatres shoveling popcorn into my mouth for the rest of my life. Watching him on celluloid.
    * * *
    “So ... what’s the deal here, you said you and your brother were fixing the house up, where are your parents?” Jack was standing, still shirtless with just a pair of longish black gym shorts on, in my kitchen finishing up the coffee I had made us. “Sorry. I’m not prying, just curious.”
    “It’s ok. Sorry if I seem tense, it’s not you. Some people in this town are always breathing down our necks because this is the Butler House. My brother and I inherited it. It was my grandmother’s and should have gone to my parents, but they died about six years ago in a car