Flirting With Forty

by S. L. Romines

  “What the hell?”

  I quickly twisted my body toward the wall, looked down beside the recliner and saw a tiny child. An infant.

  “What the actual fuck!”

  I snapped the baby up off the floor and held him tight in my arms. Still trying to fully wake up, I was convinced that I was in some funky alternate universe or in a very weird-ass dream as I cast my eyes down at the baby. But when my belly sank at his quivering bottom lip, I lost it.

  The baby was mine. My firstborn. My little Sebastian.

  I wasn’t entirely sure how one even begins to forget that they’d recently had a baby, but it happened to me and I was the lucky recipient of that punch-you-in-the-face reality.

  Before I knew it, we both ended up a sobbing mess as I rocked my baby back and forth, swearing that it would never happen again.

  One week later, I broke my promise.

  “I still can’t believe that you forgot that you’d had a baby and then, to make things even worse, ya go and drop him! Not only did you drop him once, but you also go and do it again! Poor Sebastian,” my daughter says, tsking me with a shake of her head.

  I look at my daughter through narrowed eyes but before I can respond with something equally snarky, the doorbell rings.

  “Hey, Coach!”

  “Hey, Vincent. Is your mom here?”

  My breath stalls and my back goes rigid at the sound of Miles’ voice. I’ve been avoiding that man like the plague for the past two weeks and needless to say, it’s been the hardest damn thing I’ve ever done, especially when you live across the street from the person you’ve been relentlessly trying to avoid. It’s not that I haven’t wanted to see Miles. I have. A lot. I’ve wanted to see him so much so that I’ve found myself peeking through the blinds late at night just to try to get a glimpse of him. I blame it all on embarrassment and the fact that he ran like a bat outta hell and back to his house, leaving me a flustered fucking mess the day of the barbecue.

  “Yo, Mom! Coach is here!”

  “Coach Miles and Mom sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love then comes marriage then comes my old ass mama with a baby carriage.”

  “Girl, you better shut your word trap right now or you and your crotch critters can hightail it to school,” I say in a low voice as I close my eyes and press my back against the wall before caving. “Ah, screw it.”

  Pushing away from the wall, I leave my daughter’s room but not before I hear her holler out, “You said it was an ingrown hair!”

  I let Ozella stew in that mess for a bit as I round the corner and run smack into Miles’ chest.

  “Oof!”

  “Umph!”

  “Well, hello there.”

  My heart begins to hammer in my chest when I realize that I’ve just fallen tits first into Miles’ strong arms. It isn’t until he wraps those strong arms a little tighter around my waist that my breath slowly leaves my lungs. As his hot, minty breath wafts across the crook of my neck and lingers near my nose, I slowly raise my eyes to meet his. My skin breaks out in goosebumps, causing a slight shiver to travel across my skin. I try to keep my composure as I feel my body begin to react.

  “I’m sorry.” I try to pull myself together long enough to realize that I’m sweating like a two-cent hooker during Sunday services. I quickly run my fingers through my hair and try to retain any level of cool I might still have. Clearing my throat, I lean up against the door frame, fold my arms over my chest and, with an expression that probably looks like a cross between ‘fuck me now’ and ‘I think I need to take a healthy dump’, I say the first thing that I can think of. “Hey.”

  “Hey to you too.” Miles’ slow, lazy grin causes goosebumps to travel up my spine. When he closes the small space between us my heart rate speeds up. I close my eyes and bite down on my bottom lip when he leans in close to my ear and whispers, “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  I swallow hard.

  “I don’t like being avoided.”

  I clench my jaw.

  “I see you watching me through your blinds at night.”

  My eyes snap open.

  “Do you like watching me, Nina?”

  I blow out a hard breath, and I’m suddenly thankful when Ozella hollers out, causing Miles to back off a bit.

  “Mom! My crusty empanada is on fire!” I shake my head and internally wish for the floor to open up and swallow me whole. “The internet said I need a hot compress for my lady balls! Can you get me a flame thrower? I’m about to fry this sucker!”

  “Should I even ask?”

  I shake my head. “It’s safer if you don’t.”

  “Gotcha,” Miles replies, glancing down the hallway. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeaaaaah. Um, it’s female stuff,” I reply, waving my hand in front of me. “Ya know, burning and all.”

  “Say no more,” Miles responds with a shake of his head and a deep breath. “You had me at burning.”

  A relative, awkward silence surrounds us.

  “Mom! My vertical smile’s burning!”

  I blow out a slow breath and offer a fraction of a smile. “I gotta go check on her.”

  “Yeah, of course,” Miles says, nodding his head as he furrows his brows. “Hey, listen.”

  He’s gorgeous when he looks nervous.

  “I’d like to spend some time with you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He runs a shaky hand through his hair.

  “I could make us dinner.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we both need to eat?” Miles’ reply comes out more like a question.

  I shake my head. “No. I mean, why do you want to spend time with me?”

  “Um, well, because I like you, Nina.”

  I shake my head again. “Why?”

  “What do you mean why? Because I do.”

  “No.”

  “How the hell are you going to tell me if I like you or not because I think I’m a pretty good judge on how I feel about a lady.”

  “I mean, why would you want to be around me after you saw how much of a clusterfuck my life is? I live with a bunch of nuts and my best friend is bat shit crazy to the nth degree. And let’s not forget…”

  My words are cut off when Miles’ lips come down against mine. Every muscle in my body turns to mush when he presses himself up against me. When he breaks the kiss, I want to scream out and demand that he kiss me again.

  “Friday night. My place. Seven o'clock.”

  With a wink and one last peck on my lips, I watch my sexy, new neighbor saunter down my hallway and disappear around the corner, leaving me wishing that Friday night was already here.

  Chapter Six

  “I look ridiculous.”

  “No, you look hot.”

  “I look like a middle-aged whore on my way to Whoreville to meet up with my whore friends for geriatrics night at Whores-R-Us bingo hall,” I reply as I try to adjust the ridiculous outfit Sam picked out for my date tonight.

  “You need some serious help, my friend.”

  “Shut it, whore.”

  “Better to be a whore than be a bore, and you? Well, you’re starting to bore me.”

  Sam’s reply earns a double middle finger as I turn and take a minute to look at myself in the mirror. I should just shit-can my entire date with Miles. My date. I’ve tried to say that several times without almost throwing up, considering I haven’t been out with a man since my ex-husband and I dated years ago.

  “I can’t do this.” I pull the hair clip out of my hair and kick off my heels. “Just tell him I’m on my period or something equally off-putting.”

  “Hey, some men like checking into the ol’ Red Roof Inn.”

  “Really, Sam?” My friend’s jokes do nothing to ease my nerves.

  “I’m just sayin’,” Sam replies with her hands up in the air. “Because shark week down in Putangopolis gets a certain type of man hungry for that red snapper if ya know what I mean.”

  “You’re gross.” I c
url my lip in disgust and begin to panic when the doorbell rings. “Oh, no! Oh, shit! What the hell am I gonna do?”

  “Chomp, chomp, shark bait.”

  “Fuck off, Sam.” I flip my best friend the bird, hurry to my office and quickly lock the door behind me. “You’re a sucky, sucky asshole!”

  If any of them even utter a word to Miles that I’m in here I’m gonna get real stabby real, real quick. All I want to do is hide in my office for the unforeseeable future or at least until Miles takes a hint and stops knocking on my front door.

  “Hey, Coach. What’s up?”

  Vincent!

  That boy would rat out Santa, tell on the Easter Bunny and blame the Tooth Fairy all in one breath. He has never been able to keep a secret. Ever.

  “Yeah, Mom’s in her office.”

  I knew it!

  “Second door on the right.”

  Little shit!

  Panic quickly sets in as I press my back flat against the door. For a moment, I consider holding my breath but then I remember that one time when I was eight years old swimming in my cousin’s pool. I was dared to hold my breath for a whole three minutes and, being the badass that I clearly wasn’t, I nearly died when I forgot to come back up to the surface for air before I sucked in a huge gulp of pool water. My mother was not impressed but my cousins high-fived my dumbass as if I’d just won the damn Olympics.

  A light knock on my office door scares the crap out of me, causing me to jump. I screw my eyes shut and realize that I probably look like an idiot barricaded in my office, trying to hide from the non-existent boogeyman. Only this time, the boogeyman is my hot as sin neighbor who’s probably packing a weapon of whisker biscuit destruction in those blue jeans of his.

  Am I scared? Yes.

  Am I nervous? Hell yes.

  Am I horny? Fuck yes.

  Am I going to open the door, quit acting like a pussy and finally get me some? Um, probably not.

  “Nina?”

  Every one of my breaths is labored and choppy as I try to take in each one as quietly as possible, but when I start to choke on absolutely nothing, a familiar voice calls out from the other side of the door.

  “I can hear you breathing, Nina. Well, choking. I hear a lot of choking. Are you okay?”

  “I’m not feeling well. Can I just call you later?”

  There. That should suffice and if it doesn’t, then too bad because I'm not leaving this room for shit. Not even for that fine ass man.

  “That’s too bad.” Miles’ reply is followed with an audible sigh. “I’ve got tri-tip ready for the grill and Sam told me how much you like Mimosas and cherry cheesecake. So… I got those too.”

  Wait.

  “Cheesecake?”

  “Cherry cheesecake with extra cherry filling on top.” A soft thump lands against the door and Miles’ voice feels as though it’s right up against my ear. “I baked it myself.”

  Yeah. I might leave this room for cheesecake.

  I breathe in deep and my voice cracks when I respond. “You bake, too?”

  “I’m a pro at chocolate chip fudge brownies.”

  “Ooh, I love brownies and fudge.”

  A smack against the other side of the door causes my skin to prickle with goosebumps. I close my eyes and imagine the sound is Miles smacking his palm against the wood, and I instantly wish that both of his hands were on my body, softly digging into my flesh.

  I twist around and rest my forehead against the door like I picture Miles might be doing right now.

  “Alright, well,” he says, his response is low, as he softly raps his knuckles against the door. “Hope you feel better, Nina.”

  My stomach drops when I realize that he might just be moments from leaving and here I am acting like a complete fool. Before my brain has time to interject, I swing open the door and, for a lack of better choices, I once again run smack into Miles’ hard, steely chest with a resounding ‘umph’.

  “You seem to be doing this a lot lately,” he chuckles and holds me firm at the elbows. When I finally look up at his face, his eyes slowly travel down to my mouth. “Not that I mind or anything.”

  Miles’ tongue peeks out from between his lips and when his eyes finally meet mine, the proverbial butterflies start to flutter.

  “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself.” As his gaze gradually takes in my appearance, a crooked smile forms on his lips as he reaches up and twirls a few strands of the blue wig that’s planted firmly on my head between his fingertips. “Nice.”

  “It was Sam’s idea.” I gulp a wad of air when he tucks a piece of the fake blue hair behind my ear and softly grazes my temple with his fingertip. “I look like a floozy.”

  “I love floozies,” he says with a wink. “Especially floozies wearing bright blue wigs and funky fishnet tops.”

  My eyes go wide and an unladylike cackle bursts through my lips. When his smile reaches his eyes, my heart sinks and my laugh fades. I can’t catch my breath. He’s gorgeous, and he’s here…with me.

  “So, how about that dinner?”

  “Okay.” I don’t hesitate with my reply. As the word just comes out without a second thought, I take a deep breath and say it again. “Okay.”

  “Okay,” he responds. His smile is wide and I’m pretty sure it matches my own goofy grin. “So, it’s a date?”

  And now we both sound like a couple of giggling kids experiencing their first schoolyard crush.

  “Oh my god, you two. Get a damn room already.”

  Miles and I both chuckle when Sam walks by with her lip curled up making gagging noises.

  “Um, I know it’s none of my business, but does she ever go home?”

  “Yes, but she prefers to wait until her husband is asleep. She says there’s less chance of her whacking him over the head if he already looks dead. Her words, not mine.”

  “Gotcha.” Miles brings his fingertip slowly down the side of my face and tosses in another wink for good measure. “I’ll see you in ten?”

  “Okay.”

  A low, throaty growl grounds at the back of his throat as he turns on his heel and heads down the hallway.

  And this, folks, is where I lean my back up against the wall, pull my bottom lip in between my teeth, and smile and roll my eyes like some silly, lovesick teenage girl.

  Chapter Seven

  Standing in Miles’ driveway, I vigorously scrub my palms down the front of my jeans before fluffing out my hair with shaky hands.

  “I must be insane.”

  For a moment, I briefly wonder what the inside of his house looks like. Is it all sports memorabilia and beer signs hanging on the walls? Or maybe it’s dark and contemporary. Does he have actual furniture, or does he sit on milk crates and sleep on a beanbag? He probably has a futon doubled as a sofa with a pool table smack dab in the center of the living room and a seventy-inch T.V. mounted on the wall.

  “You coming?”

  “I wish.”

  “What’s that?”

  I screw my eyes shut as I further embarrass myself, but when I finally get a good look at Miles, I nearly crap my pants.

  “Just giving myself a minor pep talk.”

  Yeah right. Truth be told, I’m over here sweating like a whore in a confessional, blabbing on about my latest sin.

  “How’s that working out for ya?”

  “How’s what working?”

  Oh, man, he looks amazing.

  “Your minor pep talk.”

  “Not as effective as I’d hoped.”

  Miles chuckles softly. “Well, feel free to join me back here whenever you and you are done debating.”

  As he slips back behind the gate, I smooth my hands over my hips and head toward the back to find my sexy host.

  The smell of barbecue leads me by my nose and my stomach. Hungry doesn’t even begin to cover how I feel right about now. My stomach is doing some loud ass grumbling noises because the last thing I ate today was half of a bagel and two slices of burned bacon. I’m about rea
dy to dive headfirst into whatever is putting off that amazing smell.

  “You made it. Thought the other you might have talked you out of our date.”

  I smile and try not to ogle Miles’ butt in a pair of low-hung gray sweats.

  “It smells amazing back here.”

  “Hungry?”

  “Just a bit.”

  Screw that. I’m so hungry I could eat the ass end of a skunk with a side of buffalo balls drenched in tabasco sauce.

  “What happened to the whore wig?” A smile plays on Miles’ lips. “It was starting to grow on me.”

  “Yeah, well, I think my whoring days are officially over. Had to retire Old Blue.”

  “Awe, that’s too bad,” Miles replies as the sexiest, little dimple sinks into his cheek. Walking behind me and placing his palm flat on the small of my back, he whispers, “Maybe one of these days we can find a reason to break Old Blue out of retirement.”

  Oh shit.

  “Here, try this.”

  Before I can ask what this is, Miles reaches around me and brings his fingertips up to my lips and places the juiciest piece of meat I think I’ve ever had inside of my mouth. I close my eyes and revel in the explosion of flavors as the meat nearly melts on my tongue and the juices slide down my throat.

  Good grief this man can cook.

  When I swallow the piece of meat, I realize that there’s still something in my mouth and that I’m currently sucking on it. When my eyes spring open, I nearly combust into a million, little pieces.

  Fingers. Two to be exact. Slowly sucking them. Running the tip of my tongue across the tips of Miles’ fingers before closing my eyes and taking them into my mouth.

  Everything skids to a standstill, quiet and unmoving. When our eyes finally meet, I watch as his lips part. When he casually slides his tongue along his bottom lip, my stomach begins to twist and knot, and when his gaze falls to my mouth, I nearly come undone at the seams.

  “I…”

  When words fail me, the look on his face says it all. As he brings his thumb up to my mouth, he runs the rough pad of skin across my lips. His eyes are glued to my mouth. Every single thing about this turns me on and, when I catch sight of the pulse in his neck thump just a bit quicker, a surge of confidence rushes through my body. I up the teasing and open my mouth, gently biting the tip of his thumb. Our eyes lock as Miles reaches around to the back of my head and laces his fingers through my hair. But it’s when he pulls my hair hard enough to cause a small whimper to claw its way up my throat that my body shamelessly gravitates toward his.