“Oh stop,” I grumble, grabbing her hand again and leading her away. With her behind me, I take the opportunity to smile and laugh with her. Not that I’ll let her see, but damn, that was pretty funny.
By the time we reach the hostess stand, her hysterics have subsided and the grip of her hand is a little tighter. As we follow the kid to the table, Carrie breaks the silence and says, “You didn’t answer me.”
“About what?” I ask as I slide into my side of the booth. I watch as Carrie does the same and slips off her jacket, setting it to the side.
“Dipping sauces with wings. Where do you stand?”
“Is this a trick question?”
Shaking her head, Carrie doesn’t respond when the server approaches our table. After reciting her script, she takes our drink order and steps away. Carrie rests her elbows on the table and with her chin in her hands, a smirk on her face.
“It’s not a trick question, Matthew. Some people are fans of blue cheese dressing while others stick to a basic ranch. I did have a friend once who actually liked honey mustard. I thought it was gross but to each his, or her, own. The question is, what’s your poison?”
Pretending to think long and hard, I rub my chin with my thumb and forefinger and look her in the eyes. She quirks a brow, and I don’t think she’s ever been cuter. Prettier. More beautiful. Hell, she’s just her and that’s perfect. The server returns with our drinks and takes in the two of us in a stare off. Wisely, she sets my beer and her Jack and Coke down but before she can run away, Carrie and I order our food without breaking eye contact.
Carrie’s eyes widen just a bit, my order obviously taking her by surprise. She may be waiting for me to explain my dipping choices, but what she doesn’t know is why I’m still quiet. Her blog actually inspired this date. She wrote an entire post about how dates are depicted in books. One of her complaints was the realness of how the hero plans a date with the heroine. I think her words were something like “How come none of these guys just take the girl out for a basket of wings and a beer? Not everyone wants to eat oysters and sip champagne.”
“Why choose one when you can have both?”
She picks up her glass and takes a drink. This isn’t a sip or a tasting of the cocktail.. It’s then that she recognizes the question and immediately starts coughing as she chokes.
“What did you just say? Did you—”
“Read your blog? I told you I did.”
“I wrote that like two years ago.”
Winking, I lift my beer to my lips and take a sip. Like a normal person not like my date who was channeling her inner frat boy, guzzling her drink.
“But seriously, I always get a side of both. Sometimes you just have to indulge.”
“You ordered a salad,” she deadpans. Then we both break out into laughter.
It isn’t long before the server returns with our food. A basket of wings, a salad, and extra dressing for dipping later, we settle into our seats. Neither of us speak at first, just sitting in comfortable silence. Carrie and I talk multiple times a day so we don’t have to fill the space with small talk. In fact, this doesn’t even feel like a first date. Or is it a second? Does the concert count? I didn’t officially declare it a date but still, it was to me.
“Did you give your mom that discount code for the book sleeve?”
“I did. She may have bought herself a few things too. I had no idea blogging had such perks.”
She smiles and nods. “Yeah, it’s kind of cool when we are able to offer discount codes to our readers. I think Sprite will really like the sleeve and book.”
“You called her Sprite.” My smile grows. I’ve never heard her refer to my daughter by her nickname.
“It was her idea. Is that not okay?”
“No, it’s great. I’m just surprised. Other than family she doesn’t allow anyone to call her by her nickname.”
With a small smile, she dips her chin and takes a small drink from her glass. The silence that is normally comfortable is a little awkward. The server catches my eye and starts his way toward us.
“Everything tasting okay? May I grab you another round?”
“We’re good, thanks.”
He nods and leaves us alone.
“Hey,” I say, reaching across the table tapping the top to catch Carrie’s attention. “I should have said it when we were at your house. Before you pulled me away from our child by threatening me with Luke. You look beautiful.”
A light pink tints her cheeks as she whispers, “Thank you. I’m still not going to sleep with you.”
Sucking in too much air, I start choking in response. What the hell? The server’s chuckle catches my attention and I quickly turn my head toward him. Lips pursed as he tries to suck down a full belly laugh, he clears the empty plates and slowly pulls the check holder from his apron, placing it on the table. He must assume this date is about to go up in flames.
“Okay…”
“Just in case you thought the compliments, wings, and inferior game play were the way to get me in the sack.”
“Inferior? Come on now, I kicked your butt at the basketball game,” I respond while placing my credit card in the holder.
“Yeah well, I scored two hundred tickets on only one round of Whack a Mole. Inferior.”
Shrugging her shoulder, she looks off to the left, her eyes focused on the television. I follow her gaze and know for a fact she is not interested in bobsledding. Is that even a regular sport outside of the Olympics? Huh. Interesting. We’re both looking at the men running and jumping in the sled when the server returns with my credit card.
“How many tickets do you have on that card?” I ask, pulling her attention back to me as I scribble my name on the slip.
“At least a million.”
“So math isn’t your thing, I take it.”
“Oh hush Mr. Financial Advisor. Not all of us get the warm and fuzzies from numbers. Is there somewhere we can check my balance?”
Nodding, I stand from the booth and watch as she slides out doing the same. I motion for her to go ahead of me and step behind her, my hand on her lower back as we exit the restaurant. Looking around, I spy the Winners Circle display in the corner and open my mouth to say something to Carrie when she breaks out into that weird victory dance again.
“Oh yeah, that’s all for me. Do you see how it is named after me?”
“Uh, what?”
“Winner’s Circle. That’s me. I’m the winner here. Come on, Matthew, I have prizes to claim.” I let her take me by the hand this time and drag me across the building to claim her bounty.
•••
Twenty minutes. It took her twenty minutes to choose her prize. Then put it back. And then claim it again. Two thousand tickets. I didn’t even think that was possible. Mostly because I had two hundred forty-six. While Carrie walked out with a book safe and a crap ton of candy, I am the proud owner of two bouncing balls and a licorice rope. Clearly I am the winner in this scenario.
Now, as our date is coming to an end, nerves I haven’t felt since I was nineteen take over. My hands are sweaty, and I’m pretty sure it’ll be a two antacids kind of night. Sitting to my right, Carrie is blowing bubbles, courtesy of one of the mega gumballs she snagged while singing along to the music.
“I don’t remember these losing their flavor so quickly. It’s actually pretty disgusting.”
“There are napkins in the console here if you need to get rid of it.”
Faster than I can blink, she whips open the console and spits the gum into the paper. The extra spitting may be a little much, but who am I to judge? When she eyes the water bottle in the cup holder, I chuckle.
“Go ahead,” I say, nodding to the water.
“Bless you. Seriously that gum was offensive. I’m throwing out all the other balls before you take this bag home.”
“I don’t know why you think giving my daughter all that candy is a good idea. You saw what that cotton candy did to her.”
Turning i
n her driveway, I put the truck in park and kill the engine before turning toward her. Smiling, she scrunches her nose and then snorts out a laugh.
“Ah yes, but the beauty of this candy is you’ll deal with the fallout and not me. Besides, Ring Pops and candy necklaces are something every little girl should experience. It’s a rite of passage.”
“If you say so. But if she’s bouncing off the walls and driving me crazy, she’s coming for a sleepover.”
Not waiting for a response, I slip out of the cab and round the truck, grabbing the handle just as the door opens and she hops down to the ground. Carrie walks ahead, her book safe clutched to her chest and steps up on the porch. I still don’t know what that thing is for. I’m not sure she does either, but it is some sort of an accessory for her library so of course she had to have it.
“Here, gimme that thing.” Taking the safe from her, I watch as she searches through her bag and retrieves her key and opens the door.
Tossing the keys into her purse, she takes the safe from me and sets it on the floor along with her purse before turning back to face me. With her bottom lip tugged between her teeth, her eyes wander all around, anywhere and everywhere but on me.
“So, the no sex thing.”
She gasps. Well that caught her attention.
“What about it?”
“Does that include kissing? Is kissing off the table?” I ask while she blinks rapidly. Okay then. When she shakes her head, I take a step forward and take her hand gently. “Do you think it would be okay if I kissed you?”
More blinking and a very slow nod, I lean in and brush my lips across hers. It isn’t a passionate kiss. There’s no tongue or moaning, just a slight brushing of my mouth on hers before stepping back. Her eyes open ever so slowly, a grin taking over her face.
“Thanks for letting me take you out again. Sleep well, and I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Stepping down from the porch, I peer over my shoulder to see her standing there, her finger on her lips. That simple gesture makes me feel like a million bucks, but the grumbling in my stomach reminds me that even the million dollar man needs an antacid.
Chapter 24
Carrie
It has been a long week. Partially because I really want Friday to get here so Matthew and I can go out again while Calypso is doing her grandparents’ night. That kiss we shared was as chaste as they come, but the emotion behind it was so much more.
See this is why I have to make sure I’m on the same page as any potential dates. Once my motor is running, I’m a goner, and Matthew definitely knows how to rev my engine with his lips.
The other reason I can’t wait for the weekend is because the holidays are upon us, and that means lots of well-meaning parents planning to give their children pets for Christmas. Since the rescue is between baby seasons in the wildlife realm, guess who gets suckered into working the front and smiling through the application process? No, not Jamie. Me. Every day, I have to sit at the desk, a smile on my face and nod my head as each parent tells me how excited their child will be for their first pet. What I don’t do is tell them how many of those same pets will end up back with us by spring break because they didn’t realize how much of a commitment an animal would be. It happens every year.
Although each parent has the best of intentions, the process never gets easier. I hate that by March the kennels will once again be at capacity with little furballs that didn’t make the family cut.
What makes me happy, though, is the text I get from Matthew saying he and Calypso are on their way over to my house. Apparently, Sprite has a present for Sven, and she can’t wait to give it to him.
I keep wondering what kind of gift she could possibly have for a squirrel. If it’s a Barbie bike, she’s going to be disappointed when he eats it.
A knock at the door puts a little spring in my step as I bust a move to let my guests in. I could use some little girl time to boost my spirits again.
“Hey. Come in.” I throw the door wide open so they can get in faster than the cold air. It’s not cold by Minnesota standards or anything, but this cold snap is nothing to dismiss either. Shutting it behind them, my immediate attention goes to Calypso, who is already jumping up and down excitedly.
“I brought Sven a Christmas present. Can I give it to him? Please?”
Her wide eyes are impossible to resist, so of course I say yes. Besides, curiosity is killing me.
“Why don’t we take your coat off first, Sprite,” Matthew says with a smile, his gaze moving to mine where we have an awkward moment. You know the one I’m talking about. That first time you see one another after the first kiss when everyone sort of knows how the other person feels but isn’t totally sure and you look at each other and blush, maybe look away again, until everyone is comfortable again.
Yeah. That awkward moment.
It doesn’t last long though, because Calypso’s excitement about the mystery present is contagious. Dropping her coat on the floor for Matthew to deal with, she races to the dining room where his cage is, the present still in her hands.
“Oh, Carrie! He’s awake!” She continues to bounce up and down because apparently she never runs out of energy. Or maybe because she never runs out of the candy I gave her. Who knows?
Coming up behind her, I open the cage door to get him out. “You have to be very quiet around him, Sprite,” I instruct and she immediately stops bouncing. “We don’t want to scare him. Squirrels can be really skittish.”
I take that moment to look up and see Matthew peeking around the corner.
“Apparently grown men can be skittish too,” I joke, but Matthew doesn’t seem to notice, his face keeping the same scared expression that he had last time he was here. “Relax, Matthew. He’s locked up in his cage.”
True to form, Luke takes this moment to pounce against the cage and buzz, flipping his tail to show everyone who’s boss.
Seeing that he’s in no immediate danger, the six-foot-tall, full grown baby blows out a breath and quickens his steps into the room. “Cool. I mean, it’s fine if he’s out. It’s your house and all. I just… yeah. It’s cool.”
My smirk suppresses the grin threatening to overtake my face. I don’t think watching someone who looks like him react to my sweet Lukey like he does will ever get old. While he’s side-eyeing the cage to make sure Luke can’t get out, his daughter has no fear whatsoever.
Calypso sets the present on the table while I shift Sven in my hands, holding him tightly so he doesn’t try to crawl away. She begins to gently pet his head, clearly enthralled by her furry brother.
“I brought you a present, Sven. Do you want to open it?” Picking up the small package, she holds it up to me, a confused look on her face. “How’s he gonna open it?”
“That’s a good question,” I say, pretending there are a whole lot of options. “What if you hold him and I open it for him?”
Calypso’s eyes widen, and she nods vigorously with excitement.
“You have to stay calm though,” I gently remind her as I hand him over and get him situated on her chest. He’s hanging on like he’s attached to a tree, which is no small feat for a little guy like Sven.
Taking the small package out of her tiny hand, I carefully pull the wrapping paper apart. It’s clear that Calypso wrapped it herself, which makes it all the more special. Vaguely, I hear the click of Matthew’s phone as he takes pictures of this moment. He must have some serious zoom on that camera to get anything worthwhile with how far away he is from the cages.
Gently, I pull a soft blue square of fabric from inside the package.
“I made it myself,” Calypso announces quietly, her hands petting Sven and holding him in place.
“Well, you cut up a blanket without my permission, anyway,” Matthew clarifies with a chuckle.
“Right. I made it.” She rolls her eyes at Matthew’s obvious inability to understand what it means to sew. “He’s all by himself in the cage so he needs something to snuggle with.”
> I don’t bother telling her that squirrel nests are made of pine needles, sticks and rocks so he probably doesn’t care that much, because her thought process is way too precious.
Placing the fabric over Sven’s tiny body, Calypso moves her hand and wouldn’t you know it? He proves me wrong when he immediately snuggles down into it and falls asleep. I swear, none of the animals in my house want to do what comes naturally. Bunch of prima donnas.
Calypso gently sways back and forth like a mama holding her baby and looks around the room. “Where’s your Christmas tree? And your stocking? Christmas is tomorrow.”
Matthew, seemingly over his fear now that his daughter has taken one for their team, comes up behind her and puts his hands on her shoulders. “Christmas is next week, honey. And she probably can’t have one because Luke might get lost in it.”
I snicker. “Oh I’d find him once he fell out of it. I actually don’t have one because I’m Jewish.”
Matthew’s eyebrows furrow. “Really? I didn’t know that.”
Holding my hand up to stop him, I clarify. “I didn’t say I was religious but it is how I grew up. So, no Christmas tree for me but see? I have my menorah on the mantel with all those pretty candles.”
Looking over at my fireplace, her big eyes are full of questions. “So you light them all like on your birthday? And blow them out?”
I smile at her innocent question. The more I get to know Calypso, the more I realize kids have this amazing way of relating to the world around them. I’ve also learned not to let certain opportunities pass you by. Explaining one of my most favorite traditions to her counts.
“It’s a sort of celebration, but not like for your birthday.”
“Then like for what?”
Looking up at Matthew, I silently ask his permission to answer her question. Just because I think it’s a cool story, doesn’t mean some parents aren’t sensitive to any kind of religious information their child hears. Last thing I need is for Matthew to storm out of here because he thinks I overstepped a boundary of some sort. We’ve had enough boundary discussions lately.
Model Behavior Page 18
