by Nic Tatano
“Yikes. Well, that speaks volumes.”
“I seem to be ending every date these days with Get! Out!”
“At least you’re not wasting time with any of these guys. Is the kitten okay?”
“Yeah, I stopped him before he hit it. But the poor thing is scared to death and his little heart is beating a mile a minute.”
“Well, give him lots of attention. He is the one you’re keeping.”
“Yep. And you just reminded of something. I need to hit an office supply store tomorrow morning for some cat stuff.”
“What does a cat have to do with office supplies?”
“I need a ton of bubble wrap and rubber bands. Plus some chalk.”
Chapter Eight
Tish shakes her head as she looks around the house. “Okay, give me a hint. Why do you have the legs of every piece of furniture covered in bubble wrap?”
“Because the kitten I’m keeping is blind in one eye and keeps running into things. He has no depth perception. So now he won’t get hurt.”
“Ah. And all the curtains are doubled in half over the rods for the same reason?”
“He cannot jump due to a deformed leg. Hence, he likes to climb. He would ruin the curtains.”
“Yes, they look so good this way.”
I proudly point to a cat condo given to me by the newsroom staff. “I sprinkled a little catnip on that to encourage him to climb there. And it worked.” I smile and nod.
“Last question … why are your floors covered with chalk marks?”
“So I put the furniture back in the same place after I vacuum. Since he can’t see properly he gets around by developing pathways, and moving things would throw him off.”
“I see. What time does his chef arrive?”
“Oh, stop it. I’m just trying to help the little guy.”
“Are we allowed to have our Sunday brunch in the dining room?”
“Of course.”
She studies my face. “You don’t see this as a little bit obsessive?”
“Not at all.”
A.J. arrives, stops in the doorway and furrows her brow. “You get robbed or something?”
“No. Why?”
“Generally chalk marks on the ground in my neighborhood means somebody got whacked.”
The brunch discussion turns to the annual Fourth of July party on Wednesday, which is held at Tish’s house on the water. Food, fun and fireworks, always an enjoyable time.
And once again, I am a third wheel.
A.J. shares the menu of the food she’s bringing, then turns to me and hits me with her Jewish mother accent, which she does quite well. “So, you want I should bring a nice guy for you?”
“Not your cousin!” says Rory.
“Nah. I got someone else in mind.”
I shake my head. “To be honest, I think I need a break from men.”
Tish rolls her eyes. “That’s how it starts. She’s beginning to turn.”
“Excuse me?”
“Into a cat lady.”
“Oh, leave me alone. Just because I take a few steps to make things easier for a special needs kitten.”
“Just yankin’ your chain,” says Tish. “So, what’s the deal? Now you think it’s too soon after he-who-must-not-be-named?”
“Nah, it’s not a rebound thing. But the final words the last three men heard in this house were get out. My luck with guys hasn’t been the best lately.”
Rory and I arrive at Tish’s house, already filled with people (mostly lawyer types) and food, as A.J. has put out a huge spread. We make our way to the back deck, where a grill is already going.
Tended to by a chiseled, shirtless hunk in a bathing suit.
My eyes widen and mouth hangs open as I take Rory’s arm. “Damn. Who is that?”
“No idea. Must be one of Tish’s friends. But I definitely want more than one hot dog today if he’s the cook.”
I’m staring at the guy as Tish comes up to me and grabs my arm. “If your jaw drops any more, it’ll hit the floor.”
I turn to her. “Very funny. So who’s the hunky grill master?”
She leans over and whispers. “Remember the guy I mentioned who rented the office next to me? The nameless one with the great ass?”
Rory nods, as she can’t stop staring either. “The rest of him ain’t so bad either.”
I glance back at him. “Tish, I told you not to try and fix me up.”
“Hey, he’s nice, he’s new in town, doesn’t know anybody and would have spent the holiday alone. Name’s Mark. C’mon, I’ll introduce you guys.”
I try not to smile but am unsuccessful. “Well, if you insist.”
“Well, don’t let me twist your arm.”
Tish leads us over to the guy who is focused on flipping burgers. “Mark, I want you to meet two of my best friends. Rory and Madison.”
He smiles at us, bringing deep dimples into play. “Nice to meet you both.”
I stare up at yet another Greek god, who must be six foot four and chiseled out of granite. Short, light brown hair and ice blue eyes. “Uh, hi.”
Tish grabs Rory’s arm. “Rory, I need your help in the kitchen.”
Rory, a foot shorter, is staring straight ahead, eye level with the guy’s ripped chest, looking like she wants to devour him. “Huh?”
“Kitchen. Now. Madison, maybe you could help Mark out on the grill.”
“Yeah. Sure.” Tish and Rory head back to the house (with Rory’s head on a swivel), leaving me with the man from Mount Olympus. “So, Tish tells me you’re new in town and don’t know anybody.”
“Yes, I’ve only been here a few weeks. But now I know you.” His smile makes my heart flutter. He sips a beer, then turns his attention to the grill for a moment. “Of course, I already know you from TV. And those kittens you rescued.”
“Y’know, thirteen years in journalism and I’m more well-known for bottle feeding cats than any story I ever broke.”
“It speaks volumes about your character.”
“Thank you. So, where are you from?”
“Florida. So I’m told I’d better enjoy the summer while it lasts. Not sure if I’ll be able to keep warm this winter.”
I’m sure you won’t have a problem finding a woman to help with that.
Mark spreads a blanket on the ground as the sun dips below the horizon. The fireworks will begin any minute.
Though I’ve been feeling fireworks with this guy all day. Probably because I’ve never been around a guy with such a perfect body. (I know, I’m acting like a man. Thinking with the wrong head.)
He actually found a relatively quiet spot in the waterfront park, away from the crowds. He places his six pack of beer on the sand and then I realize we’ve forgotten something. “Oh, no. We left the chairs back at Tish’s place.”
He sits on the blanket, then pats the spot directly in front of him. “I’ll be your chair.” He shoots me a smile I cannot resist. “C’mon, get comfortable.”
I’m already too comfortable with this guy, but I’m not complaining. He’s smart, interesting, and has a great sense of humor. We’ve spent most of the day together and I feel safe with him. I sit on the blanket in front of him and lean back, molding myself to his body.
He wraps his arms gently around my waist. “Comfortable?”
“Very.”
He opens a beer. “Want one?”
“Nah, I had my limit during dinner.”
He takes a long swig. “Perfect weather for fireworks, huh?”
“Yeah. It’s been a really nice day. I’m glad you came, Mark.”
“You made it a nice day.”
A Sousa march fills the air, telling us the fireworks are about to start. “Here we go.” The first ones explode, reflecting off the water as the crowd oohs and ahs. “I’ve loved fireworks since I was a little girl.”
“Hey, who doesn’t? I’ve never seen them on the water. This is spectacular.”
I rub one hand over his thick forearm. He pull
s me a little closer. “This is nice, Mark.”
“You know, the fireworks make your hair look like it’s shooting sparks. It’s beautiful.”
I turn my head to look at him. Our eyes lock and lips meet as the fireworks between us continue.
We head back to the parking lot half an hour after the fireworks show ended. We decided to wait for traffic to thin out.
Okay, so you don’t believe that lame excuse.
Of course, I didn’t see much of the show.
I couldn’t resist him or the situation. The gorgeous nice guy, sea breeze caressing my body, perfect temperatures and reflections from the fireworks were simply too much. I spent an hour basically kissing the guy. Luckily with everyone watching the light show no one noticed a couple making out. Then the park cleared out and we picked up where we left off.
Rory texted me, telling me she was going home and assuming I had a ride.
So we’re headed back to his car. Mark has one arm around my shoulders while he carries the empty six pack of bottles with the other.
And then it hits me.
He’s downed six beers in an hour and a half. And I see a bunch of cops directing traffic out of the park. “Hey, how about I drive?”
“What for?”
“I haven’t been drinking and you have.”
He shrugs. “It’s not a big deal for a guy my size. I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“Relax, Madison. I’ll get you home in one piece. Do I look drunk to you?”
I’m slightly apprehensive but he actually seems sober. Still, as a rookie reporter in a small town I covered enough car wrecks to know that driving drunk or even buzzed is not a good idea. But traffic is almost gone and we only have to drive a few blocks. Besides, I don’t want to start an argument with a guy I really like. “You’re not even buzzed?”
“Nope.” We pass a recycling bin and he drops the empty bottles inside. He leads me to his car, a nice sedan, and opens the door for me. I get in and say a quick prayer, determined to make him drink coffee when we get back to my place. He gets behind the wheel, starts the car, backs up—
And bumps the car behind him, setting off an ear-splitting alarm.
“Dammit!” He pulls forward, puts the car in park, turns it off and gets out. I see him check the other car to see if there’s any damage. He gets back in and smiles as the alarm stops. “I just bumped it. No problem.”
And just as he starts the car I see one of the cops directing traffic walking quickly in our direction.
It’s Officer Marino.
Dammit.
This is not good.
Mark shakes his head. “Oh, hell.” He rolls down the window as the cop reaches the car. “No damage, officer. I just nudged it enough to set off the alarm.”
The cop moves behind the car, checks the other vehicle, then comes back. “Yeah, it’s okay.” Then I notice him lean forward as he sniffs the air. “Been drinking, sir?”
“I had a beer during the fireworks.”
The cop shines a light in his face as another officer heads in our direction. “Please step out of the vehicle.”
“Officer, I’m fine.”
“If that’s the case then you’ll be on your way in a minute.” Mark steps out of the car as I see him handed a Breathalyzer. “Blow into the tube.” He does so, then hands it to the cop, who shakes his head. “Point one-six. That’s twice the legal limit. One beer, huh?”
“Must be something wrong with your machine.”
“Take it up with the judge. I’m afraid I’ll have to place you under arrest, sir. Is your companion sober to drive your car home?”
“I live in Manhattan. She lives here. If you can give her a ride home you can leave the car here and I’ll pick it up tomorrow.”
“Fine. I’ll lock it.” Officer Marino hands Mark, now a prisoner, off to his partner while he gets in the car to get the keys and lock it up.
And then he sees me. “Oh. It’s you.”
I nod as I look down. “Good evening, Officer Marino.”
“Did you know he was drunk?”
“I thought he was fine. But I just met him at a cookout this afternoon. I don’t really know him.”
“Are you—”
“I had two glasses of wine about five hours ago. That’s it. Honest. You can have me blow into the thing if you want.”
“That won’t be necessary. C’mon, let’s get you home. I know where you live.”
We both get out of the car and I’m thankful the place has mostly cleared out. The last thing I need is for someone to take a picture of me getting into a police car while my date for the evening is arrested. Officer Marino tosses Mark’s keys to his partner, leads me to his police cruiser and holds the door for me.
I’m beyond embarrassed.
I see his partner look at me, then turn to him. “I’ll do the paperwork, Nick. You get your, uh, friend home.” He smiles and winks.
Marino slides behind the wheel, grabs the two-way radio and keys the microphone. “Unit ninety-nine is ten-ten.”
“Copy that.”
He starts the car and heads for the parking lot exit, passing Mark being loaded into another police car wearing handcuffs.
I turn to face him. “You probably don’t think too much of me.”
“If I didn’t I wouldn’t be driving you home.” We come to a red light and he faces me. “But you’re a reporter. You should know better than to get in a car with a drunk.”
I nod. “You’re absolutely right. I actually did offer to drive but he said he was okay. I could have walked home. It’s only a few blocks.”
“Well, lucky for you he hit the other car and set off the alarm.”
“Lucky for me you seem to always be around to save me.”
He smiles a bit as the light turns green. “That’s my job.”
“Somehow I don’t think providing personal protection to redheads who make bad decisions is in your police department manual.”
“Actually, it’s chapter one. Damsels in distress. Last week I found one tied to the railroad tracks.”
I can’t help but laugh. “You’re a good man, Marino.”
“Considering that’s coming from the country’s most famous rescuer of cats, I’m honored.”
“Yeah, that thing has taken on a life of its own. But a lot of good has come of it.”
“I’m sure.” He turns the corner and pulls up in front of my house, then turns off the car. “Home sweet home.” He hops out, comes around to my side and opens the door for me.
“Thank you.” I see Rory spying on me through the drapes from across the street and roll my eyes at her. We start walking up the steps. “Hey, Marino, can I ask you something?”
“First, I’d like to know why you keep calling me by my last name.”
“It’s a newsroom thing. We use last names.”
“Okay. So, what did you want to ask me?”
“Was that your partner tonight?”
“Yeah.”
“I noticed he looked at me and then gave you a wink. What’s all that about?”
He looks down with a sheepish grin. “I, uh, might have mentioned that I’ve run into you a few times. You know, a celebrity sighting.”
“Ah, I see. Can I ask you something else?”
“Sure.”
“Code ten-ten means you’re off duty, right?”
“How’d you know that?”
“Police scanner in every newsroom.”
“Right, forgot about that.”
“Anyway, since you’re off the clock, would you like to—”
“Attention all units! Officer down! Officer down! All available units respond!”
He immediately heads down the stairs. “Gotta go!”
“Sure. Hope everything is okay.”
He waves at me, gets in his car, cranks it and leaves skid marks as he races away, tires squealing.
“Curses, foiled again.” I trudge up the stairs and head inside, pay Kelly, and grab
my phone, waiting for the inevitable call from Rory. It rings the minute Kelly is out the door. “What?”
“What the hell happened with barbecue Thor?”
“He’s spending the night drying out in the drunk tank.”
“Huh?”
“When you drink six beers in ninety minutes, back into another car and set off the alarm, the police come over to investigate. He was twice the legal limit.”
“Damn. Now that I think about it, I did see him drink a lot this afternoon. Didn’t you notice?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t want to.”
“So that’s why Officer Goodbody drove you home.”
“Yeah.”
“And … why didn’t you invite him in?”
“I was about to, but he got an emergency call. Officer down.”
“That’s never good.”
“No. Hope everything turns out okay. Anyway, I think I’m gonna take the plunge and do it.”
“Do what?”
“Ask him out. Officer Goodbody, as you call him.”
Long pause. “Hang on a minute, I gotta check the Weather Channel.”
“Why?”
“To see what time hell froze over.”
Chapter Nine
By the next morning, I’m losing the resolve to follow through on my decision to ask a man out. Sounds good when you’re talking to a girlfriend, very different when you start playing out the possible scenarios in your head. And of course, the worst scenario, the one every woman fears.
Rejection.
What if he turns me down?
The shoe is on the other foot.
Still, I need to take a shot. But how?
Madison Shaw date invite, take one:
“Uh, hi, Officer Marino? Yeah, this is Madison Shaw. You know, the girl who runs stop signs and hangs out with drunks. May I cook you a dinner you probably wouldn’t feed to a dog?”
Take two:
“Hello, Nick? It’s Madison, the obsessive pet owner. Look, in five years I’ll be forty and qualify as a spinster with a house full of cats and probably start going to Celine Dion concerts unless I find a decent guy. Help me out, will ya?”
Take three:
“Officer Marino? If you let me play with your siren I’ll let you put those handcuffs to good use.”
