Tried With Fire - (Ruth Harris Series)

Chapter 12

When we both pulled up to our driveway at home, I took a second to relax my brain again. (Driving had never been a fun activity for me, no matter how well my day was going.) Hunter, on the other hand, was out of his car in an instant and dashing towards mine. He opened my door.
               'Hey - ahh!' I squealed as he undid my seatbelt and lifted me over his shoulder in one sweep. He was giggling while I was scrambling for my bag to lock the car behind me. Unable to wait, he grabbed it for me and ran us both over to the front door. Then he took the keys out of my hand and opened it, bobbing up and down excitedly like a giddy teenaged boy as the key turned.
               Within half a minute of arriving home we were lying down on the sofa and undressing. My car was still unlocked, makeup and pens from my bag had been scattered all over the driveway and the front door was slightly ajar, but we didn't care. Well, I did a bit, but Hunter didn't, so I surrendered to his strong arms and savoured the moment.

'That, was...' I panted, moving the hair out of my face. We were on the floor now. 'Mamma Mia, that was...'
'Wow.' Hunter exhaled from my side. We looked at each other and laughed lecherously. That was all we could do for a few minutes.
               Then I scooted up towards Hunter, pulled his arm around my shoulders and rested my head in the crook of his neck. I breathed in his meaty, sweet smell. He smelled my hair. I would have bet money that neither of us could have ruined that moment; but gambling had never reaped me much but loss before.
               'Well, that ought to last us another few weeks.' Hunter murmured. He'd meant it as a joke, but I didn't find it funny at all.
'What?'
'- Nothing. Nothing. Ignore me.'
'But, but, but you just said - this isn't a chore, Hunter.' I moved up onto my arms, away from the warmth of his skin.
'Stop panicking, Ruth. He didn't mean any harm.'
'Yeah, well, I don't like thinking that I enjoyed it more than he did! I don't like thinking he just did this to get me off his back for the next few weeks. That's not how this should work. So back off, Charity.'
'No! Of course it's not. That was amazing.' Hunter said. I thought I could hear disinclination in the vibrations of his voice. 'You were amazing.'
'Are you making fun of me?' I asked. 'Hunter, you should be excited to do this! I'm your wife. You act like I force you to bed me all the time.'
'I was excited! I love bedding you, amore mio. I love it. You saw how fast I got you in here when we got home!' Hunter sat up and moved towards me, but I pushed my hand against his chest. I was trying desperately to stop thinking so paranoiacally: I'd been craving this intimacy for the last few weeks, but now I was ruining it for both of us.
               'I'm sorry, Ruth.' Hunter continued, holding my outstretched hand. 'I shouldn't have made that stupid joke. Come here, please. Let's do it again.'
'Maybe he's getting it from somewhere else.' Julie gasped in my head.
'Are you?' I quickly asked, still keeping him at arm's length.
'Am I what?'
'Are you getting it from somewhere else?'
'What? No!' Hunter exclaimed. 'Of course not! Did I just act like a man who's getting it from somewhere else?'
               I thought for a moment, then the wall of paranoia around me shattered and I had to refrain from laughing at the ridiculousness of what I had just accused him of. Hunter noticed the amusement cross my face, and relaxed. 'Mamma Mia, Ruth. You love scaring me, don't you?'
'I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Hunter.' I chuckled, moving closer to him again. 'I know you wouldn't cheat on me. And I know how much we both enjoyed each other just now. I was just, having a DID moment. I'm sorry. I love you.'
'I love you too.' Hunter pulled me onto him and kissed me all over again.

'How much time have we got now?' I asked once we were dressed again. Hunter checked the clock.
'About an hour and a half.'
'That's all!?'
'Yeah.' he sighed.
'Oh.' I whined. 'Well what should we do until then?'
'It's up to you.'
               And that was how we got into a silly debate about which film to watch.
               'Come on! We can watch your dumb suggestion any day, but we can't watch this when Olivia's here.' I argued.
'I don't care! You couldn't pay me to watch The Notebook again. It's crappiness was sufficient the first time.' Hunter replied from the sofa. I was kneeling in front of our tv stand, rifling through our DVD collection. I narrowed my eyes at him childishly. He stuck his tongue out.
'Fine. But I want to watch something wholesome - and meaningful. I'm so sick of Olivia's cartoons. What do you want?'
'Diehard!' Hunter suddenly shouted, as if he had forgotten it existed until now.
'No!' I said. 'You've watched that more times than I've watched Dirty Dancing. I refuse. I want something 80s. Ooh, Ordinary People!'
'H-ELL no.' Hunter threw his head back and groaned. 'Why don't we just watch Ferris Bueller's Day Off again? That's what we always end up watching when we have the house to ourselves.'
'That's exactly why we shouldn't watch it, Hunter.' I said. 'We're turning into boring, routine adults. Let's do something new!'
               He groaned again. 'Oh come on! Why don't we get out of the house for once? Let's go to the beach, or out for dinner, or let's watch the sun set over the hill! We could take a picnic.' As I spoke I walked toward Hunter on my knees. 'Please. Remember how much you used to hate the idea of getting older? Well, now we're older! Let's not waste the years we have left.'
'You say that like we're eighty.' Hunter said, although his grin was returning. 'But fine. I'll take you out.'
'Nope. I'm taking you out.' I said. 'It was my idea - I'm being the romantic one for once.'
'Alright. But I'm paying.'
'Well then I'll take you somewhere free.'
               I smiled up at my husband and pecked his hand. He used it to stroke my hair afterwards, and we probably could have stayed like that, staring at each other in our cosy house, for hours. But my back started to ache, so I stood up and pulled him onto his feet. Tiredly, and with a groan, he arose and we went upstairs to change.