Arissa placed her bottle of beer next to the plate of burgers and moved across the deck to one of the pots. “If I lived here then, I would have been in that bidding war.” She glanced back at him. “This would make an incredible feature for the magazine.” Taking in his view, she added, “I’d sell my soul to feature this place in the magazine, but a part of me hates the idea because what makes this so beautiful is the quiet and serenity.”
Hank was listening as he fired up the grill. “Really? You’d put my house in a magazine?” The thought had Hank smiling. Not for the fact that he was honored to hear it, but for the fact it was just home to him, not a piece to showcase.
Arissa touched the shiny green leaves in the pot on the deck. Hank placed the meat on the hot grates, the sizzling began before he shut the lid. Turning, he watched Arissa as she spoke.
“I’ve traveled all through the south looking for the best of the best, pie and étouffée, fairs and little towns and yes, homes. Some look beautiful, but are cold. Designed solely for the purpose of being noticed. This place has a quality to it, that beauty that draws your eye, and gets your imagination thinking about barbecues and softball games and families gathered around the table. It feels like a home. The fact that it does and it’s a bachelor pad…” She glanced over at him and grinned. “Maybe featuring it is not such a good idea because it would have the women flocking into town.” Then she laughed at the thought of Sal and Elmer. “Though for some, that would be very appealing.”
Hank grinned and didn’t give it much thought. What, a few pictures of his house in a magazine, harmless. So he told her, “Go ahead. You wanna take a few pics and put it in your magazine, be my guest.”
She crossed the patio to him, leaned up against the counter, the scent of the grilling meat wafting up toward her. “That smells delicious,” she said but continued, “Be careful, Hank, because I really want to feature your house but it’s more than taking a few pictures. You give me the go ahead, I’m totally going to take you up on it.”
He could say the same for the scent lingering off her. Between her close proximity, her plump lips moving, he had no idea what was spilling from his mouth, all he heard was getting the chance to spend more time with her. So, he found himself saying, “Then, do it.” He kept his eyes to hers, and was glad he did, because if he hadn’t he would have missed seeing that sparkle come to life.
Arissa felt the familiar buzz when she was onto a great story. The fact that this story centered around a man she was fascinated by and could admit wanted to spend time with, only made that feeling all the better. She reached for her beer, brought the bottle to her lips. “We’ll have to sit down, you’ll need to sign a few things. I’ll want to tour your house, but…” She took a sip of beer, let the cold liquor do its thing before she added, “Based on what I’ve seen, I won’t be hiring a staging crew. The angle is you.” She watched his expression when she said that. “Are you okay with that?”
Hank turned to the grill, lifted the hood, and reached for the spatula. “Sweetheart, have no fucking clue what you’re talking about, the angle is me.” He chuckled, flipped the burgers, and pointed the kitchen utensil toward the meat. “You want me to kill yours?”
“No, not kill…pink inside,” she replied.
Hank nodded and muttered, “Good.”
“Jo told me about the rash of misdemeanors all so the local ladies could get a frisk down. That’s the angle I’m talking about.”
Hank shook his head and looked at Arissa’s almost empty bottle. “If you wanna talk about that shit, you gotta get me a beer, and you can use another too.”
Her eyes twinkled. “Okay, I’ll be right back.”
Hank watched her flip flop covered feet walk across his deck, her full ass swaying when she did. Watched her hand on the knob, opening the French door. He also saw when she closed the door behind her. It was a sight. A sight he’d like to watch every night when he came home from work. A sight he would never tire of. And she did it all like she had been to his house a million times over. His eyes stayed fixed to the door, so he also got to appreciate her walking toward him with a beer in each hand. Yeah, he could get used to this. She handed him the bottle, he held her eyes. She didn’t move hers; unspoken words were exchanged through a simple look. “Thanks,” he said, his voice low and deep.
“You’re welcome.” She took a sip too, and then said, “So, about those friskings.” She chuckled. “You have to realize your appeal,” she said, looking him over from the cotton that hugged his chest and arms to the faded jeans that hung from narrow hips. “You got all of that going on.” Then she looked out at his backyard. “Then you see your home…it’s an alluring combination, the man behind the badge.”
Hank heard the words, even felt them. But it was the look she had in her eyes when they roamed down his body that had him making his next move. With his free hand, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. He watched
