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Chapter or Story 
Chapter or Story
Fierce bursts of rain, unexpected and unwelcomed, lashed the house and cascaded down stained glass transoms, launching frenzied kaleidoscopes of shadows and patterns at the walls.
Parker abstractedly observed the darkness pursue the light across an already dim room; dark hues alternated with increasingly darker ones. Her eyelids grew heavy, closed.
The storm and shadows distorted her perception of time; Parker, however, was confident that she'd set a reminder and alarm on her mobile.
Yeah, I was also once confident that I'd never sleep with Jarod.
What time is it?
Confidence withering, Parker swung a gaze at the clock, murmured an obscenity, and pushed a hand through her hair.
Fuck.
Thunder, grumbling, in the distance, punctuated her thoughts.
She'd left the firm early, intending to complete errands, focus on personal obligations, and prepare to host Jarod's parents in her home again. Nearly three hours had elapsed since then, and she had little to show for it. The aberration was disconcerting; she was spending time like she had an infinite supply of it stashed away somewhere, and behaving like someone thoroughly unencumbered by responsibilities.
Work before play, Angel.
Stability breeds success.
Feeling both unstable and unsuccessful, Parker rose and collected the lace bodysuit she'd laid aside earlier. She bent at the waist, and carefully tugged the delicate material up her legs. Straightening to her full height, Parker liberated a lock of hair from the thin, white shoulder straps, and strode to the master bath.
Exhaling a breath and another expletive, Parker moistened her finger with tap water and swiftly assaulted the incriminating stains on her chin and neck. And shoulder? Jesus!
Returning to the bedroom, she snatched her slacks from the chair and tugged them on.
"I have a hairbrush you can use," Jarod offered sweetly, observing Parker quietly from the bed.
"No," Parker said brusquely, retrieving her blouse. "I should probably shower anyway."
"I have one of those, too-- as well as several empty drawers and closets," Jarod added casually, "and you're welcome to them."
Parker closed her eyes and blouse buttons, and agreed with a curt nod. She'd sifted through every drawer and closet in Jarod's home, inventoried the contents, noted the absence of contents, mapped out the numerous bare spaces. He'd always traveled lightly; he lived that way, too.
"You shouldn't encourage me," Parker cautioned, stepping into her heels.
Jarod smiled, and asked carefully, "Why shouldn't I?"
"I'll lock up on my way out," Parker informed him thinly.
"You don't have to rush off," Jarod said, and, craning his neck, added with a frown of concern, "Hello," he called. "Are you all rig--"
Parker quietly closed the door on the question, more or less answering Jarod. She wasn't all right. Established rules had been obliterated, plans had been changed, tasks were incomplete.
"Don't have to rush off, my ass," Parker murmured quietly. Beneath the covered patio, she searched the pockets of her raincoat, and after a moment, hissed angrily, "Where the fuck?"
Behind her, Jarod's security and intercom system chimed quietly, followed by Jarod's amused, "Forget something?"
"What the hell did you do with my fob?"
"Come back inside, and we'll retrace your steps."
"I don't have time-"
"Time to wait two hours for the dealership to send a courier with a replacement fob?" Jarod asked softly, adding sweetly, "The door's open."
Parker considered telephoning the dealership, and swiftly dismissed the decision; her mobile was somewhere inside Jarod's home, too, with her fob and attached house key. Grudgingly, she swiveled, and strode to the door. Inside, she searched beneath sofa cushions and atop tables, and retraced her steps back to the bedroom to find Jarod half-dressed in track-pants, and pulling on a black t-shirt. "I was certain that you'd left it on the sofa," Jarod said, puzzled.
"It isn't there," Parker returned sharply, searching beneath the bed. "Neither is my phone."
"It's okay," Jarod said, plucking his mobile from the nightstand, and pressing the assigned speed dial key. "Uh, it's ringing," he informed Parker, and lowered his mobile, and listened. "Is that-- Chopin?" He asked, evidently amused.
Straining to hear the tone, Parker frowned deeply. "That is so faint," she whispered, approaching the bed, and untangling blankets.
Jarod stared blankly at Parker for a moment, and finally said with some relief, "Ohh, right, sorta like butt-dialing, but- uh, with-"
"Fucking," Parker supplied, hotly. "The word is fucking, Jarod."
"That isn't all we're doing here," Jarod argued softly.
"Not in this phone, but Avery and Eli are," Parker answered somewhat sheepishly, locating the device, and hastily scrolling through her call history.
"I found the fob," Jarod announced. "So, are we going to have to sit down and explain this to Avery-- or to Eli, or -"
"Or," Parker answered thinly. "And now I'm even more behind schedule."
"No, you aren't. As I was saying when you slammed the door earlier you don't have to rush off. You keep doing that," Jarod said, "making it impossible for us to talk."
"We don't need to talk," Parker murmured quietly.
"You realize, don't you, that saying the words, repeating them, doesn't make them true?" Jarod asked. "Would you please, at least, listen for a moment?"
"You've got two minutes."
Jarod nodded, and came right to the point, "I know that the time you spend with me is time you have to steal from other areas of your life. I'd like to take some obligations off your plate if you'll let me."
"Such as?"
"Dinner tonight, among other things."
"Other things," Parker repeated, cynically.
"If Avery and Eli enjoy my cooking as much as you seemed to when I cooked for you, and they will," he injected confidently, "I'd like to cook dinner for the four of us, or five if Stella joins us, every night, and tidy up afterwards. In your home, of course, because I know it's important that Avery and Eli's schedules aren't disrupted."
"That's -- a lot. Wait," Parker said with a cynical, mirthless smile. "You have an entire list, don't you?"
"I do, and I certainly should," Jarod asserted indignantly, "I'm Eli's father. I am his father," Jarod argued, and addressed Parker by her name, "not someone you met in a club, not someone you're just having sex with, whether you want to admit it or not, and I sure as hell am not Greg. I'm not going anywhere."
Parker stiffened, drew a sharp breath, and demanded hotly in a tearful, tremulous voice, "Don't say that."
Jarod recoiled, and inquired with a frown, "Don't say I'm Eli's father?"
"What just happened?" Jarod asked with a squint of skepticism.
"It's a lot to process," Parker answered easily, her words landing well within the bounds of truth.
Jarod's face clouded with consternation. "Yes, I can see that," he agreed tenderly. "Is this about Greg?"
"No," Parker said thinly. "Thanks," she added warmly, plucking her fob from his hand, "for finding this."
"Will we, really? Hmm?" Jarod asked. "Because you keep saying we will, but you never follow through, so, tell me, when, exactly, do you intend to talk to me?"
"Five," Jarod answered grudgingly, adding hastily when Parker pulled open the door, "I'm sorry that I hurt you, and I want to promise you that it won't happen again, but I can't do that, because I don't know what I did wrong. I don't want to hurt you."
Jarod watched Parker's face intently, and eagerly awaited honesty.
He closed his eyes in frustration when she exited his home, repeating once more, "Later."
*shrugs*
