Jack Beale 00 - Killer Run

the fabric. It was blue. “Nice blue,” he said.
    “Jack, you’re not looking at it. It’s not just blue; there are different shades. And look at the subtle pattern. Doesn’t it look like the ocean?”
    “Oh, silly me.” He smacked himself on the forehead with an open palm. “I see it now.” His sarcasm wasn’t lost on Max.
    “Jack Beale, you’re being a jerk. Wait till I finish. I’ll show you.”
    “I’m sorry, Max. I can’t wait to see it finished.”
    She was busy refolding the piece of cloth and wrestling it back into the bag when Polly came out and joined them. “Malcom just called. He won’t be back until late tomorrow night.” Then looking at Jack and Dave she added, “I told him how much you were enjoying his trails, and I asked him the name of that race he was doing. Does Rockdog sound right?”
    “The Rockdog! That’s the one Dave and I are training for. Maybe we’ll see him there.”
    “I’m sure he would like that …” Her voice drifted off. Clearly, Polly was as enthusiastic about running as Jack and Dave were about making quilts.
    “Patti, come on, help me take this stuff upstairs,” said Max.
    “I’ll join you. I have something else to show you,” said Polly.
    With another great rustling of plastic bags, the three women went inside, leaving Jack and Dave to their beers and snacks.
    Dave looked over at Jack. “She’s really going to make a quilt?”
    “So she says. Maybe she’ll surprise us. That blue was really nice.”
    “It was.”
    * * *
    Max was already in bed when Jack came out of the bathroom. He snapped the light off and walked toward the bed. The wide pine floor was cold to his feet. “Oh what the hell,” he thought to himself and grinned in the dark. He pulled his tee shirt off and dropped his flannel pajama pants onto the floor. Properly naked he climbed into the bed, pulling the covers up to his chin. Then he lay there, on his back, next to her. He listened to her breathing, convinced that she wasn’t asleep, and began thinking about the best way to proceed.
    He slid one leg over toward her and touched her leg. A tingle and a shiver spread over his body when he felt her bare flesh. He had no expectation that she would be as naked as he was, but in his imagination he was convinced that she was. He rolled onto his side and slid his leg over hers. At the same time he put his arm over her, ready to draw her into a hug. She had a shirt on.
    “Max,” he whispered.
    “Mmmm, what?” her voice was already tinged with sleep.
    “I have a naked hug for you.”
    “That’s nice,” she mumbled without moving. He slid closer, gradually draping his leg further over hers and pulling himself closer with his arm. He couldn’t decide if she was awake, asleep, or ignoring him, although he didn’t think that possible since there was no doubt how awake he was.
    “Max,” he whispered in her ear and then gently kissed her cheek.
    She moved slightly and turned her head toward his. Their lips touched softly, tentatively at first, then with more purpose. He could tell that she was now fully awake not only by the way she returned his kiss, but by the sound of her more rapid breathing.
    “Jack?” she exhaled.
    “What?” he exhaled back as he went to kiss her again.
    “You didn’t give me an answer.”
    He stopped mid-kiss, puzzled. “To what?”
    “You never said if you like the blue material I bought for the quilt I’m going to make.”
    He pulled back a bit. His brain screamed, “ What! You want to talk about material at a time like this! ”
    What he actually said was, “I like it,” hoping those words would be enough so they could get back to where he wanted to be.
    “You don’t think it’s too dark?” she said softly.
    “No it’s perfect.”
    “I’m not sure. It may be too light.” The way she said it, something was different.
    Again he said that he thought it was perfect.
    “I’m not so sure; maybe it’s too blue to be water. It should be more greenish.”
    Now he knew. She was messing with him.
    He rolled off of her and onto his back. “I don’t know. If it’s too green it’ll look like a field, so I’d keep it bluer.” Two could play that game.
    “You would?” Now he could hear a hint of frustration in her voice. He grinned.
    She must have heard him grin because suddenly she rolled over on top of him and said, “You jerk, shut up,” and kissed him.
    There was no more discussion of quilts or fabrics or colors. Sleep found them