by L. M. Carr
I turn around to face him with a huge smile on my face. “Hey, my friend. What’s up?” That’s not the question I really want to ask. I want to know why he’s here. Why would this gorgeous man, who garners the attention of so many people, want to be here, in this noisy dive bar, with me? His eyes, dark and expressive, a perfectly imperfect nose and those full lips call to me. I resist the urge to run my fingers through the thick hair covering the lower half of his face.
I’m sure we look like idiots because we’re just standing there facing each other, our eyes speaking a language of their own, making unspoken promises of what’s to come. The tension radiating between us is incredible. This attraction is not one sided—I know he feels it as much as I do.
“Ahem,” Pete clears his throat and elbows my ribs lightly. “And who’s this?” He ogles Adam, looking at him like he’s a scrumptious dessert that he wants to sink his teeth into.
“Peter, this is Adam Lawson. Adam, Peter Harris.” They shake hands and nod their heads. I notice Pete’s eyes shine a little brighter than they normally do. I quickly give Pete the “PG” version about Adam’s daughter being in my class and how we’ve run into each other on the trails at the park from time to time. Pete purses his lips and roams his greedy, little, lustful and very disbelieving eyes over Adam’s body from his dark, wavy hair down his long-sleeved shirt and snug jeans all the way to his black combat boots. I know Pete doesn’t believe me, but what am I supposed to say? “Hey, this gorgeous man and I have just basically met and he thoroughly screwed my brains out and I’d like more, please?” Pete knows about everything that happened years ago…well, almost of all of it anyway.
Before I realize it, the band finishes playing their set and Ryan and Will make their way back over to us. Adam’s body becomes noticeably closer than before when Will asks what I thought of the band and then suggests that I come watch them play again next weekend. Adam’s fingers and then his palm slide under my hair to the nape of my neck, massaging me gently with his firm hand. It feels as though he’s staking his claim, apparently letting everyone know that I’m here with him.
I smile at Will and tell him that I don’t have any specific plans yet for next weekend, but that I’ll keep it in mind. The massage gets deeper on my neck. I angle my head to look back at Adam, surprised to see his beautiful face marred with a serious glare, causing his brows to wrinkle. My “go to” resolution to diffuse a tense situation is to talk about it.
“We’ll be right back.” I pull his hand from my neck, keeping our fingers laced. Using my free hand, I reach for my wristlet and phone then lead us out of the bar into the alley, not stopping once along the way.
“What’s wrong with you? Are you mad about something?” He can’t be mad at me because I didn’t do anything. My voice comes out harsher than I intend, my eyes looking up straight at his.
“You...” he murmurs. Stepping away from me, he covers his face, running his hands over his eyes. “You’re driving me fucking crazy!” In an instant, he’s on me, smashing his lips against mine, kissing me furiously like a ravenous animal. “You have no idea what you do to me.” His nose skims my jaw line, inhaling long breaths.
Holy shit! That is so unexpected, I don’t know what to say! He can’t go around saying things like that to me and not expect me to feel something. That’s just wrong, cruel even. If he only knew what his words do to my body. And my heart.
“Listen. I’m not sure what you’re talking about exactly so you’ll need to clarify things for me.” I reach up to caress his unshaven face, my thumb runs along the seam of his lips. His eyes close and his body relaxes at my touch.
“Adam? Talk to me. What’s going on with you?”
“I don’t think I can do this.” My heart is in my throat when he says those words, my mouth is like cotton and I can’t swallow.
“When I’m with you…” he starts, “it feels so good. I want things that I have no right to want and definitely don’t deserve. And my life is so fucked up right now.” He wants me? He feels things? Oh, shit! I didn’t see that one coming. Why would he say his life is fucked up? Looks pretty perfect if you ask me, but then again I know all too well that looks can be deceiving.
“You really have no idea what you do to me, do you?” His hushed words are mumbled onto my lips.
I smile, tugging at the back of his head to bring him closer. “I guess I don’t, but I know what you do to me.”
I WAKE WITH A jolt. My heart is pounding and my naked body is on fire, tangled in a mass of long arms and heavy legs while small beads of sweat dot across my forehead and drip down my neck. My breathing regulates as Adam nuzzles into my neck, his tanned arm drapes across my stomach, pulling me in closer to him. He is sound asleep, only his soft breathing can be heard. I want so much to run my fingers through his messy, dark hair, but I don’t want to wake him. My eyes scan the room, blinking rapidly as I remember last night. He came to the bar. I texted Pete to tell him I was leaving and that I would leave the keys under the floor mat so he can drive himself home. Adam sped through town as he drove us home in that fast, black Camaro of his. I was pretty buzzed, but I remember laughing about how the Longos were going to file a noise violation complaint against him.
I remember the kissing. Oh, God the kissing! He kissed my mouth, my neck, and my breasts before dropping to his knees and kissing me everywhere while I stood in my kitchen against the wooden island. He is a man of many, many talents. I remember kissing our way up the stairs to my bedroom, the rest of our clothes ripped off and then he pounced on me, taking me hard and fast as though he couldn’t wait any longer.
I lie there staring at Adam, who is on his side with one arm tucked beneath the pillow, and smile. Oh, crap! I know myself and I know what I’m feeling and this is NOT good. I know in the end, my fragile heart will get splintered into a million shards by him. Am I willing to take the risk with what’s left of my heart? Asking my heart, body, and mind to work cohesively has never been an easy task for me.
Brady’s appearance in the doorway lets me know that he has needs, so I carefully lift Adam’s arm from my breast and ease my way out of bed. I don’t want to wake him just yet. I need a few minutes to myself to gather my thoughts and have a chat with my heart. Throwing on my robe, I tiptoe downstairs, let Brady out, and make a cup of coffee. I wash my face and brush my teeth while my coffee brews. There are two things I need every day—a good run and strong coffee.
From the back door, I watch as he runs deep into the thick trees following the trail that leads down to the water to greet the early risers who walk the shore every morning. Making my way over the patio table on my deck, I’m thankful for the row of tall arborvitaes that separate my backyard from the Longo’s, shielding me from prying eyes.
I sit there drinking my coffee while taking in the beauty of the quiet morning, knowing that a gorgeous, unattainable man lies in my bed. Thoughts flood my mind of why he’s so guarded, unwilling to let anyone in. Different scenarios dance around my head trying to figure out what he meant about his life being fucked up. I know what he wants, what he’s offering, but is it really enough for me? Maybe Shelby was right. I don’t do casual sex.
When Brady finally reappears, he runs past me, causing me to turn and look over my shoulder. Adam is standing just outside the screen door, his eyes are fixed on me. I smile when I see him lower into a squat to give Brady’s belly some love.
“Hey, buddy,” he says in the goofy dog-talk voice. “Where’s your ball? You wanna play?” Brady jumps up in search of his tattered tennis ball.
“You’ve made a new best friend, you know,” I tease. And here’s that awkward moment when I’m not sure if I caught him while he was trying to leave without saying goodbye or should I be polite and offer him coffee.
“He’s such a great dog. How long have you had him?” Adam rises and walks over.
“I got him when he was just a puppy.” I smile sadly. I hadn’t planned on rescuing him, but in reality, he rescued me.
; The apprehension between us is thick. He seems uncomfortable, wanting to say something but not sure what exactly. I offer him a cup of coffee, but declines with a simple, silent shake of his head. So I wait. And wait. And wait.
“I’m sorry about last night,” he finally says, his eyes looking ashamed. He’s sorry about last night? What’s he sorry about? Last night was fantastic—at least I thought it was. I sip my coffee, hoping and waiting for an explanation of some sort.
“I really didn’t mean to go all cave man at the bar,” he says apologetically, rubbing his palms over his eyes in circles before pulling out a chair to sit in. Whew! Thank the Lord, sweet Baby Jesus!
“I’m not usually like this.” My look must be one of disbelief because he continues on, “Seriously!” His voice drops to a whisper, “I don’t usually care. I’m not really sure why I did that.”
My eyes widen at his honest confession.
“It’s just…seeing that guy hit on you…I don’t know…it kind of pissed me off.” He exhales loudly.
“Who was hitting on me?” I ask, tipping back the last of my coffee.
“That guy in the band. What’s his face? Will?”
“He was? I didn’t notice.” I am such a liar! Oh, I noticed alright. The way Will’s tatted arm kept rubbing against mine or how he would look at me instead of listening to whoever was talking.
His eyebrows rise. “Are you serious? He definitely wants you.”
This makes me laugh. “Adam, he can’t possibly ‘want me,’” I air quote, “he just met me.”
Again, he sits quietly, thoughtfully and then his eyes flash to mine before he murmurs something that sounds like “I did.”
I need another cup of coffee, and Adam finally agrees to a cup so I walk into the house and pop a medium roast K-cup in the Keurig. I rummage through the fridge to get some fruit and cream cheese for bagels.
A voice from outside causes me to straighten to attention, drop the untoasted bagel and look out the kitchen window. Oh, shit! What the hell is she doing here? Her voice is high-pitched, oozing curiosity. “Oh! Good morning, young fellow. And who might you be?” she sings. Adam responds quickly, standing up to introduce himself.
Double shit! I race upstairs to throw on a pair of shorts, a bra and an old ragged t-shirt. I pull my hair into a messy bun before placing the food and cups of coffee carefully on a breakfast tray. I can do this. I am twenty- seven years old. This is my home and…she can…mind her own damn business!
I set the tray on the table and greet my nosy neighbor. “Good morning, Mrs. Longo. And what brings you over so early on a Sunday morning?” I smile sweetly while silently cursing the old woman. “I thought you’d be in church by now praying for the sinners of the world.”
“Well, it is a good morning indeed.” She smiles back, eyes bouncing back and forth between Adam and me. She places a loaf of her famous banana nut bread on the table before us.
“Seems I didn’t sleep too well last night. Some car’s loud engine woke me up out of a sound sleep right in the middle of a dream.” She smirks at Adam who hasn’t said two words since I’ve returned with food. When Mrs. Longo reaches down to pet Brady, I look across at him and mouth the words, “Told ya!” His mouth is full of food, but he manages a throaty laugh, nodding his head in agreement.
My hospitality overrides my annoyance when I ask if she’d like a cup of coffee, but she declines. “No, thank you. I just wanted to drop this off. I know how much you love my banana bread especially when I add extra nuts.” Her eyes rake up and down Adam in approval.
“Thank you, Mrs. Longo. That was really kind of you to bring it over this morning.” I give her a knowing look and smile.
Adam, with his wrinkled shirt and messy hair, rises and extends his hand to say goodbye. “It was a pleasure meeting you.” His wide smile is genuine.
Mrs. Longo returns the gentle handshake before narrowing her sky blue eyes. “Be good to her,” she says with a tight smile on her face.
Dear God! Please open up the Earth and swallow me now! Embarrassment floods my face, a red blush on my cheeks. “Goodbye, Mrs. Longo. I’ll see you later.”
“Oh, Mia, dear. Let me know if I’m watching Brady next week. I know you’re probably going to the game.”
“Game?” Adam asks as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone, rolling his eyes when he looks at the screen. I can only imagine who’s calling him. An ex? A girlfriend? A lover? He notices me watching him.
“Everything okay?” I ask, imagining all the women who have his number and use it frequently.
“Yeah, it’s fine. Some people can’t take no for an answer.” His words are abrupt as he slides his phone back into his jeans. “Listen, I’ve got go.” He looks at me hesitantly, with hooded eyes. “I have a couple of things I need to do before I pick up my kids and take Luke to his game,” he says sullenly, the laidback humor now gone.
This is the first mention of his children, Madison and Luke. It makes me wonder why he doesn’t talk about them often. Although he did mention that he doesn’t combine the two parts of his life. Maybe most of his women don’t even know he has kids. I get the whole separation thing, I guess. They really are great kids. I would love to have kids like that someday—they would be the center of my universe.
We both rise to clean up the table and walk inside. We move effortlessly, putting things away around my kitchen, not speaking many words.
And here’s that awkward moment that I knew was coming.
“What are you doing later?” he asks.
I shrug. “I’m not really sure. I might head down to the lake. Go paddle boarding, kayaking.” I open the fridge to put the creamer away and notice that I’m running low on the essentials. “Probably go grocery shopping. Why do you ask?” For a moment, I think maybe he’s going to ask to see me later. Maybe I should have said, “I’d be at the park,” so we can meet up there and he can bring his kids along. What is wrong with me? Bring his kids? He’s made it perfectly clear what this is and isn’t. Settle down, Mia. Settle down.
Adam strides over to me, pulling me close and whispers in my ear, “Thank you for this weekend. I had a really good time.” He nips at my diamond-studded earlobe. I can feel his lips flatten—I know he’s smiling. A good time? Suddenly, I feel like a cheap whore whose name and number are written on a bathroom wall in a sleazy bar.
I push him back. “Yeah, I did, too. Thanks. Hit me up sometime.” A wink and a cheeky snap of my teeth escape me like I’m a cheesy, used car salesman. Oh my God! Did I really just say the words, “Hit me up sometime?” What an idiot! Who the hell says that? He must sense my unease, his eyes narrowing with concern as he opens the distance between our faces to look at me. “You okay?”
“Uh, yeah. I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” I lie. I just had two of the best nights of my life and I feel like a whore for it. Drama-free sex, Mia! Remember?
“I’ll text you later,” he says before planting a chaste kiss on my lips then walking out the door into the driveway.
I stand at the sink, washing our coffee cups, listening to the roar of his car race down the street. I’m pretty sure that’s the last time the Longos will ever hear that sound. I’m surprised that I feel a little disappointment at the realization.
Adam got what he wanted this weekend—I’m out of his system for sure. Unfortunately, he’s not out of mine. Not even close.
EVEN THOUGH THE weather has been unusually warm for this time of year, the full green trees are beginning to change, their leaves turning into hues of red, orange, and yellow. The mild temperatures have provided an extended summer, welcoming people to enjoy the outdoors before the long, cold, harsh winter sets in.
It’s already midweek and I’m looking forward to the weekend with my friends. We’re heading up to Foxboro, Massachusetts to watch the Patriots game and it’s a guaranteed fun-filled day with football, music, beer, and food as rowdy tailgaters and fans from opposing teams all share their love of the game.
I’ve seen Adam every day at dismissal, but he’s never said more than a clipped, “Miss Delaney.” No smile. No flirting. Nothing. So I simply return his greeting, “Mr. Lawson.” What the fuck? Maybe the whole encounter last weekend was some strange hallucination. Well, damn. I must have a pretty good imagination because parts of my body were sore for days. Maybe I need to make an appointment with Gail and get my prescription refilled.
***
AFTER BRADY AND I hike the trails instead of doing our regular run, we make our way toward the group of people by the football field when Shane waves us over. I secure Brady’s leash because I know how excited he gets when he sees the football being tossed back and forth.
Shane leans down and kisses my cheek, pulling me into a side hug. “Hey, I’m sorry about the other night. I really wanted to see you, but my sister called and needed my help with the baby. You know how that goes, family first and all.” Shane removes his ball cap, runs hand through his blonde hair, before readjusting his cap backwards. He really is hot. I wish I could feel something other than betrayal and find a way to forgive him, but after last spring, there’s no going back and I think he knows it.
“C’mon, Coach!” I hear voices whine, calling him. We both turn to look at his players, but my eyes widen and my heart skips when I see Adam standing there, with a cup of coffee in one hand and holding Maddie’s hand with the other. He glares at us. He looks so irritated. His tall, lean body is stiff and angry. Madison is by his side, tugging at their clasped hands.
“Come meet the kids. You probably know most of them,” Shane says.
“Uh…sure, but just for a minute.” I smile hesitantly and follow him.
“Hey, guys. Say hi to Miss Delaney.”
I smile. “Hi guys. How’s it going?”
