by B. N. Toler
“So you trust him?” I ask as the waitress places our pint glasses on the table. I don’t know why I’m asking her. Well, maybe I do. The truth is, my brain keeps telling me to be wary of Connor. His past scares me, somewhat. But the more I’m around him, the more I trust him. But how much of that is this attraction to him that I’m trying to deny I feel? Are hormones getting in the way of my reasoning abilities?
She smirks slightly in thought. “I do. I can’t explain it, but I have a good feeling about him. Besides,” she adds, “Blake wasn’t the kind of man to love anyone who was undeserving. If Blake believed Connor is a good guy, it must be true.”
And there it is. My exact thoughts. And that’s one of the things I love about Wendy. She doesn’t buy labels. Just because Connor was in prison, doesn’t make him a bad person. And even if he was a bad person, people can change, right? I mean, everyone makes mistakes. Granted, hurting another person is a big mistake, but deep down I know there has to be more to the story.
“And I’ll get Lexi to come and help too.”
She’s sipping her beer when she snorts with my words. After she coughs a few times, clearing her throat, in a husky voice she says, “I’m more worried about her influence on my children than I am Connor.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, well I may need her as a reinforcement.”
Wendy nods. “Yes. You will.”
Tuesday seemed to fly by, but Wednesday rolled on, taking its sweet time. My finger taps my steering wheel idly as I drive home to get ready. I have no idea what to wear. I mean, Vick seems like a low-key kind of guy so I’m sure whatever I wear will be fine, but I do want to look nice. I can’t deny I’m excited. A date. I’m going on a date. It’s scary and enthralling all at once. When I get home, I rush inside and hurry upstairs to find Lexi laying outfits out on my bed.
“What are you doing here?”
“Why do you always ask me that every time I show up here?”
“Because you are always showing up here.”
She purses her lips in annoyance. “I said I would come over and help you get ready, asshole.”
I forgot she said she was coming over. I guess I am an asshole because of my greeting, but now I’m not so sure I want her help because we’ll probably argue. “I think I can manage on my own, Lex.”
She walks into my closet and yells, “It’s been a while Demi. You’re out of practice.”
I flop down on my bed and resolve to let her help me since she doesn’t seem to be harboring any hurt feelings about my less than inviting welcome. But glancing at the outfits she’s laid out, I’m worried. Maybe it isn’t a good idea for her to help me. As she walks out of my closet holding a nude, skin-tight dress I wore many years ago, I warn her, “I’m not dressing like a ho tonight, Lexi.”
“What do you have all these cute dresses for if you’re never going to wear them?” she asks as she lays the dress with the others on my bed.
“Because I might wear them one day.”
“And why not today?” she counters.
“Because it’s a first date at a town bar, for starters. Secondly, I’m not trying to give him the idea I want to jump his bones on the first date.”
Her facial features brighten, and she perks up. “So you have thought about jumping his bones at some point then?”
I press my lips together, frustrated with myself for not wording myself better. “No. I mean, he’s attractive, but I haven’t thought about anything beyond having dinner with him.”
Lexi smiles and takes a deep breath. “I know this is a big deal for you. I’m proud of you for trying.”
I know she’s been worried about me. Wendy too. They’ve both feared I’d become the loneliest widow in Gotham City. I just haven’t been ready. But I think I am now. And I think even if things don’t pan out with Vick, at the very least he’ll be a great icebreaker for me.
“Come on,” I murmur, as I head to my closet. “Let’s find me something sexy, but appropriate to wear.”
Lexi and I battled over the definition of sexy. In the end, we met in the middle. I’m wearing a strapless black cotton dress with platform flip flops. She begged me to wear heels, but I refused. Middle ground was the platform on the flip flops.
Tillie’s is busy tonight; the happy hour crew is crowded around the bar, chugging two dollar drafts before seven. I’m standing in the foyer of the restaurant, searching the tables that line both sides, looking for Vick, when someone’s hand presses my lower back.
“I’ve thought about this moment every day since we met. What you’d look like. I have to say, my imagination needs some work.”
My mouth curves up as I twist my neck and find Vick with an appreciative smile on his face. When I turn, he grabs me in for a quick hug, but before he pulls away, he adds, “You smell better than I imagined, too.”
“Can you imagine how someone will smell?” I query as I step back to drink him in. He’s wearing worn tattered jeans and a plain, white cotton T-shirt. He looks amazing. Oh, and he’s wearing flip-flops. I’m so glad I didn’t overdo it with dressing up tonight. I am a bit more dressy than he is, but not awkwardly so.
“Maybe not the scent, but you can imagine the feeling or sensations a scent gives you.”
I nod in agreement and smile. “That was an excellent answer, Mr. Reynolds. Are you trying to seduce me with your charming repartee?”
His mouth quirks on one side, and he shrugs his shoulder. “Well, I don’t have a vast fortune or incredible looks to impress you with, so I’m forced to use the only things I do have. I hope you like smart men with huge penises.”
I suck in air through my teeth before biting my lip, feigning disappointment. “Maybe we should cancel now. I really hate intelligent men.” Then after a beat, I add, “But . . . the huge penis might be your saving grace.”
“I knew this monster would do me proud one day,” he says, with pride, looking down at himself. We both laugh as the hostess approaches and Vick lets her know we need a table for two.
Once we’re seated, our waitress approaches and quickly takes our drink orders. The conversation flows easily. I can’t remember the last time I laughed so much. I quickly learn that Vick is a jokester and has a zest for telling stories that make you laugh.
“So my uncle spends the entire day in these sunglasses and keeps bitching about how bright it is outside. My cousin and I could barely keep ourselves from laughing in front of him, but somehow we managed.”
“So you guys just let him walk around all day wearing sunglasses with no lens? And he never realized it?”
Vick leans back and laughs, and I can’t help but admire his perfectly white teeth. “All damn day. And the funny thing is, no one else said anything either.”
I shake my head as I chuckle. “Your poor uncle. That sounds like something I would do.”
“Eh, he took it well. He’s pretty good about laughing at himself.”
We both smile as a pause of silence falls between us, but when our eyes meet, Vick leans forward, resting both arms on the table as he looks at me.
“I like you, Demi Stevens.”
My cheeks heat as I fight the grin trying to break out across my face. “You’re not so bad yourself Vick.”
“I know . . .” he pauses as if unsure how to word what he wants to say, “I know this is your first time out since your husband passed.” I can’t help but wince a little at his words. “Sorry,” he says, sincerely. “I didn’t mean to bring up a sensitive subject. I just want to say, this is new, and so far I like you. And I’m prepared to go as slow as you’d like.”
Okay, my heart flutters a little. He gets me. He barely knows me, and he gets me. While I feel ready to burst into the dating scene, I’m not naïve enough to believe it’ll all come easy. Blake is the only man that has touched me . . . intimately in the last seven years. While the thought of feeling that rush that comes with falling for someone, that feeling of your body craving another, excites me, there’s a lot of fear there too.
&nbs
p; “Thank you, Vick. I appreciate that.”
“Can I see you this weekend?”
My mouth quirks into a smile. “I’m babysitting this weekend. Maybe early next week?”
“Monday?”
“Monday works,” I agree.
After we finish our meal, we have one more drink before he walks me out to the parking lot. He opens my car door for me and we both kind of laugh awkwardly. Do we kiss? I’m sure he’s wondering should he kiss me; is it too bold? Me, I’m torn between wanting him to, and not wanting him to. But Vick takes control; he leans in and kisses the corner of my mouth chastely.
“Goodnight Demi,” he whispers before backing away.
“Night.” I give a little wave and slip inside my car. As I pull out of the parking lot, I touch my mouth where his lips brushed, smiling because, all in all, that was a perfect first date.
As I’m climbing out of my car, heading inside my house, I hear the roar of Connor’s bike. A few seconds later, he pulls in behind me. The motion sensor lights on the side of the house flashed on when I pulled in so I can see him perfectly, and I can see the dainty arms wrapped around his midsection. I shut my door, intending to hustle inside, unsure of why I want to avoid meeting whoever it is he’s brought home, but he turns off the engine and calls, “Hey, Demi. Everything alright?”
Turning, I plaster on a friendly smile. “Oh yeah. Just exhausted. Been a long day.”
He doesn’t respond right away, but motions his head, indicating for his guest to climb off while he holds the bike steady. I stand there, feeling like an idiot because I don’t know if it would be rude to go inside now or not. Should I wait for an introduction? Then, a tall blonde with a perfect body climbs off and smiles at me. I should’ve gone inside.
“Hi.” She waves, giving me a friendly smile. She’s the definition of a sexy biker chick. “I’m Roxy.” Of course she is. She’s gorgeous and has an awesome name.
“Demi,” I respond as I return the wave. “Nice to meet you.”
“I know who you are. I’ve heard so much about you, Demi,” she beams as she rushes in and gives me a strong hug. She has? Has Connor spoken about me? And why is she hugging me? My gaze darts to Connor, who clears his throat as he climbs off his bike and stretches. When Roxy turns back to him, he gives her a look that says, zip it. But I don’t have time to think about it because his gaze moves to me and moves down my body and back up again. I feel myself get hot just from his obvious perusal, and I pray the limited light hides my reaction. His Adams apple bobs as he swallows before he asks, “You been out tonight?”
I don’t know why his question makes me feel nervous, but I look at my feet and push my hair behind my ear, before meeting his gaze again. “Yes. I had a date.”
Now his brows rise, and his eyes widen. “Oh.” Then . . . there’s silence. Was that shock I heard in his voice? I wait for him to say something—anything—but all I get is silence. The sounds of crickets and frogs seem to blare until Roxy moves beside Connor and wraps one arm around his torso.
“Well—”
“We were going to grab something quick to eat and have a drink,” Roxy offers. “Would you like to join us?” Wow, this woman is friendly. And as weird as it sounds, there’s something about her that makes part of me want to get to know her. She looks like the kind of person that has all kinds of interesting tales of adventures to tell. Seeing them side by side, Connor in his rugged glory; tattoos, muscles, and worn jeans and Roxy in her perfectly fitted outfit, and long, lean legs, I can’t help thinking how good they look together. Now, I’m feeling a little off. And I can’t figure out why.
“Oh, I already ate,” I respond quickly. “But thank you. You guys have fun.”
“Your dress looks really good on you, by the way. I bet it was a great first date,” Roxy yells as I reach the steps.
As I climb the stairs to my back porch, I look back. “It was. Thanks,” I smile and head inside.
After I brush my teeth, I open the bathroom window just as Connor’s light in his apartment switches off. I guess Roxy is spending the night. As I climb in bed, I check my cell and find a text from Vick.
Vick: Thank you for an awesome evening. Hope I didn’t scare you off with all of my intelligence. ;)
Me: No. Just the talk about your huge penis. I’ve decided I only like small ones.
Vick: Damn. Maybe I over talked it. It’s not that big.
I laugh and text back:
Nite. ;)
Vick: Sweet dreams, Demi.
As I lay my head on my pillow after turning off my lamp, I inhale deeply. Thoughts of Vick scurry through my mind, followed by thoughts of Blake. But as my eyes close and I drift off to sleep, the last thought I have: Is Connor having sex with Roxy?
Friday rolls around, and I rush out of work and head to the grocery store to buy enough food to feed the army of children staying at my house this weekend. When I pull in the driveway, Connor is under a truck, his legs peeking out as he works. When he hears me pull in, he rolls out on the creeper he’s using to help roll under the truck and sits up.
“Hey stranger,” he chirps as I pop open my trunk. We haven’t spoken since the night he brought his friend Roxy over. I hate how odd I acted that night, and in turn I’ve been avoiding him, so I haven’t had to think about it.
“Hi there,” I respond cheerily. “How are you?” I busy myself pulling groceries from my trunk. When I feel his hand on my lower back, I startle.
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he chuckles as he reaches in and grabs some bags.
“Sorry, wasn’t expecting you,” I laugh nervously. When my gaze meets his, I notice he’s sweaty, and there are smudges of grease on his face. He looks delectable.
“Did you buy the entire store?” he snorts as he moves to carry the five bags in his arms in the house with me following behind him.
“I’m babysitting Wendy and Jeff’s kids this weekend to give them a break. Those kids eat like they’ve never been fed in their lives.”
As soon as we’re in the kitchen, Connor drops his bags on the kitchen table, and I set mine on the counter next to the sink. “They’re staying all weekend?” he asks with disbelief.
As I move to the cabinet and grab a glass, I answer, “Yeah. I’m nuts, right?”
I fill the glass with cold water at the faucet then hand it to him as he says, “And you plan on watching them by yourself?”
“Lexi is supposed to come and help.”
I start unpacking groceries when I notice he’s just standing in the same place, unmoving. When I look at him, he’s staring at the glass. “Why’d you give me this?”
“Because you’ve been working outside, and you look like you’re hot,” I answer honestly. “You can dump it out if you don’t want it,” I say when he doesn’t respond.
His mouth curves softly before he chugs the water down in a few large gulps. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Well, I’ll be around, so I’m happy to help out as well.”
I smile as I open a cabinet and put the peanut butter away. “I appreciate that. They’ll be here in two hours. Thinking about just ordering pizza tonight. Thought it might be a nice treat for them.”
“I’ll order,” Connor informs me as he heads toward the back door.
“You don’t have to do that, Connor. It’s a lot of pizza,” I chuckle.
“They’re kids. How much could they possibly eat?”
I stare at him blankly. “Uh . . .”
“I got it, Demi,” With that he exits and as I finish putting the groceries away I try to mentally prepare myself for the weekend ahead. Not sure that’s even possible.
The Tuffman children descend upon my house like Cicada bugs on their seventeen-year return; sudden and loud. Wendy and Jeff basically shoved them out of the car as they did a slow drive by, honking their horn as they sped away.
So far, McKenzie has sat on my back porch, sunglasses on, ear buds in, listening to her iPod and ignoring th
e rest of us. Wendy called me earlier to inform me McKenzie was less than thrilled about coming to stay here. I was surprised to hear this. It’s been a long time since I’ve kept her—before Blake passed away—but she used to love spending the night here. At least the other children seem fine with sleeping over. Mark has been glued to Connor’s side as he works on a truck someone dropped off for a tune-up, and Mary-Anne and J.J. are playing hide and seek in my house. Grayson is sitting at my feet poking invisible buttons in front of him. My insides twist as I watch him.
“Grayson,” I call his name gently, but he doesn’t respond.
“Grayson,” I say louder. Still . . . nothing. Bending down, I put my face level with his. “Grayson,” I sing his name in a goofy voice, and he turns his head, his big brown eyes darting everywhere, but at me. I snap my fingers in front of his face and repeat his name again, with no acknowledgment.
Twisting my mouth, I stand and put my hands on my hips. How could I have missed this? “Umizoomi!” I say, and Grayson stands, his eyes finally meeting mine.
“Umizoomi. Umizoomi,” he repeats before sprinting in my house beelining for my television in the living room. I stare after him for a moment, my heart sinking. The signs are there. I should have noticed sooner, but every time I’m around the Tuffman family it’s chaos, and I missed the giant indicators.
I’m jarred from my thoughts by the screech of the screen door when Connor enters, wiping oil from his large hands on a shop rag. “You okay?” he asks, his eyes narrowed in concern. I have to blink a few times before I manage to turn my head. He’s shirtless. Again. And all my eyes want to do is rove over his body. Geez, I need help. I should not want to stare at him like I’m doing at this moment and every time his shirt is missing.
I take a deep breath and nod yes. I can’t tell Connor my concerns while McKenzie is in such close vicinity. Not that she’d care. Her brother’s problems would seem slight to her in comparison to her own world-shattering issue; no cell phone to talk or text on. “We’ll talk about it later,” I answer.
