PosterBoyForAverage

by Sommer Marsden

  “Hi, Miss Aubrey!” Then he ducked inside.

  “Just Aubrey is fine,” she said, but it was only to Mike because his son was already off with his friend.

  “He’s been taught manners.” Mike chuckled. “Let him use them.”

  It was her turn to nod. “I guess I should be going,” she said. “My sister is going to notice I’m still here and then we’ll both be screwed.” She felt herself blushing at her choice of words. “You know what I mean.”

  “Yes. She seems easily intrigued.”

  “That’s the understatement of the year,” Aubrey said.

  “I hope you’re not angry with me.” He said it fast, as if he were ripping off a bandage.

  “I’m not angry. I was confused. Maybe a little less now.”

  “Am I that transparent?” He smiled at her. She noticed that even in the streetlights the smile didn’t touch his eyes.

  “Not transparent. But I can be smart when I try. I think I figured out a few things.”

  “Yeah? Like I prefer going commando to wearing drawers?” He leaned against his truck and the way he moved his body, the way he smiled, she wanted to drag him into that vehicle and fuck him until his brain leaked out his ears.

  “Not quite what I was talking about. But now I know that too.” She stubbed the toe of her shoe against the concrete. “Off I go!”

  Aubrey hated the way she sounded. Awkward, robotic, nervous. She also hated that she’d just said “Off I go!” like some kind of deranged lunatic. She didn’t say that or any other silly saying that made her sound like Mary Poppins. But here she was rolling of a nervous exclamation of her departure.

  “I’m sorry, Aubrey,” Mike said.

  Her throat closed up. She heard it click when she swallowed. “What? Why? What for?”

  “I can tell you can’t wait to get away. I can tell what I said this morning hurt you. Or pissed you off. Or something. And I wasn’t saying that we have no chance, I was just saying that you might want to think ab—”

  She couldn’t. Could not stand here a moment longer. Her eyes were pricking with tears and no matter how many times she blinked, her vision was starting to double. And the thought of fucking crying—crying in front of him!—was too horrible to even entertain.

  “I’m fine. I’m totally fine. It’s no big deal,” she said, waving a hand at him. “But I really do have to go. Batman’s waiting for me. Who needs men when you have your own furry superhero, right?”

  Then she sobbed a little at her own words. What kind of asshole said stuff like that? What kind of moron let her pain out and waved it in someone’s face?

  Her. She was that kind of asshole.

  Before he could say anything, she turned and threw herself into her car. Hopefully he had somewhere to be. Hopefully he wasn’t going home, for God’s sake.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Aubrey parked in her driveway and watched his headlights pull up in front of his house.

  “God damn it,” she muttered. She found her bag, turned off the car, made sure the lights were off and got out. “Just go in the house. Just go in the house.” She reminded herself that she was putting space between them. That was clearly what he wanted and what she should do. For her own sanity.

  “Aubrey!”

  She stopped, her feet growing so still she could have been part of the concrete walkway. Go, go, go… But she didn’t go. She stood. And if she stood there, she was either going to get angry at him—it was her default emotion when she didn’t know what to do—or she was going to be hurt. She didn’t want to be either.

  He caught up to her and she turned fast, trying to gain the advantage. “How’s Chuck?”

  “Sleeping,” Mike said. He reached out for her, thought better of it, dropped his hands by his side.

  “Good. That’s good.”

  “It was a panic attack, just like I thought. But Angela gets so…” He shrugged. “Which is completely understandable. But we drove him into his GP and he evaluated Chuck and he’s hanging tough. He gave us a very mild anti-anxiety med to give him. But Chuck hates meds more than vegetables so he took it once. Hence the sleep. And I guarantee that’ll be it. No more meds for Chuck.”

  Aubrey nodded. “That’s sort of how I feel about meds. I…” She shrugged.

  Then his hands did find her. Slid up her back, cupped her shoulder, squeezed warmly. “I’m sorry I have you all twisted up in knots.”

  “Me? I’m fine. But Bruce is in there doing the pee-pee dance, most likely.”

  He let her go. “Sorry. Go tend to Batman.” He grinned when he said it and she felt her heart do that dip-and-bob thing again.

  “I will. I’m glad…I’m glad that Chuck is okay and I’m glad you were able to be there.”

  Just don’t follow me. If you follow me, I’ll crumble like a sand castle in high tide. Don’t…

  “I’ll always be there,” he said.

  Did he think it was a warning? Or just a statement?

  “Of course,” Aubrey said. Saved by the dog. From inside she heard a small, needy bark. “Gotta go. There’s a superhero who has to tinkle.”

  He laughed, caught her wrist and pulled her to him. Where his fingers circled her skin, it warmed. When his mouth touched hers, she warmed. She wanted to turn and throw herself into the kiss. Wrap her arms around him. Give in to her urge to be with him and tell him that it could all work if he’d just stop worrying. If he’d not worry about her so damn much. But that was his nature, wasn’t it?

  It was, in fact, what made him so compelling to her. His heart.

  * * * * *

  Bruce had gone out and done his business with such speed it made her laugh. “Kept you waiting a bit too long, did I?”

  His company—after that of her sister and Laura—made the ache to be around Mike that much worse. He was right next door. He was home. And he’d kissed her. She could still taste that kiss on her lips. She could still feel it.

  She shucked her clothes in the middle of her room, tossing them toward the dirty clothes hamper. Aubrey felt as if the bed were haunted. The ghosts of them together there in her sheets. Which was stupid, really. Considering the man had only spent one night with her.

  With some men, one night is all you need to know it’s real.

  The thought hit her like a left hook to the cheek. It stung her to realize that it was the truth. She threw on a Ravens jersey as a nightshirt—three sizes too big thanks to the fact that Laura had picked it out—and dialed Bradlee.

  “How long?” she blurted when her sister rang. She sat cross-legged on her bed, staring out into the dark night.

  “How long what? How long did you stand outside and talk to that man?”

  “Not now,” she sighed. She could tell Bradlee had been smiling and now she could tell the smile had fled.

  “How long what, Aubrey?”

  “How long before you knew that you and Timothy were the real deal? That you…” She trailed off, picking at a loose thread on her winter quilt.

  “Loved him?”

  “Maybe.”

  “People roll their eyes at me, but I knew the first time he kissed me.” Bradlee laughed and Aubrey could hear the love in that sound. It made her envious. It made her chest hurt. “People say love that fast isn’t real, or they say it doesn’t last.”

  “I know.”

  “But I tell them to look at my kid and look at my face when he’s away. My kid is proof it does work. My face is usually not my normal face until he returns. Then, when he’s back, it returns to my true face. My heart bounces back. I’m Bradlee again.”

  “Because?” She asked the question, but she already knew.

  “Because when he gets back I’m whole again. Timothy is part of me now. I’ll be the first to tell you not to question your feelings. The only thing you need to worry about is, does Mike feel the same as you? Based on what I saw tonight, peeping out my window like a pervert, I’d lay money that he does.”

  “Thanks, Brad,” Aubrey said. She s
prawled on the bed, considering just going to bed even though it was barely eight o’clock.

  “What are you going to do?” Bradlee asked, all the humor gone from her voice.

  “Nothing. There’s nothing I can do right now. It’s really up to him. What good is me feeling what I feel for him if he keeps pushing me away?”

  “If it means anything, I think it’s because he’s concerned for you.”

  “It does and it doesn’t. I guess I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t crazy. For how I feel.”

  “Nope. Your heart knows what’s going on,” she said. “Even when your brain gets confused.”

  “Good to know.”

  “You okay? You want to come back over?” Bradlee was wary. When Bradlee was wary, Aubrey knew she was being maudlin.

  She forced some happy into her voice. “Nope. I’m fine now that I’ve conferred with you, oh wise one. I think I have a hot cup of tea in my future and maybe an early bedtime. I’m done with this day.”

  “I believe it.”

  They hung up and Aubrey stared out at the harvest moon. The dim glow of her nightlight did little to keep her awake. Before long, she was dozing. She dimly remembered turning on her side, pushing her face into the pillow that smelled of handsome, sexy man and pulling the coverlet over her body. For a while, she slept.

  * * * * *

  Midnight. That’s what the clock said when she heard Bruce whining wistfully downstairs. She figured he had to go out.

  “Coming,” Aubrey sighed. Her mouth tasted like death. She made a quick detour into the bathroom and swished with mouthwash. “Better,” she said to her reflection. She touched her hair, done up in two loose braids, figuring nothing could be done for that just now.

  More whining. His desperate I’m-not-kidding-lady whines. “Coming!” she said a bit louder.

  It was her own damn fault. Bruce usually went out for his final bathroom break around ten or eleven. She’d dozed off at eight and had apparently slept hard. Like a rock. Like the dead.

  Downstairs, she simply stared at her crazy dog. He was not standing by the back door for the sunroom, which led out to the deck. Nope. He was planted before the front door, wagging his tale and whining.

  Which he only did when the person on the other side was someone he knew. Strangers, he barked. Known folks, he sat and whined until she let them in.

  “Hello?” she said loud enough—she hoped—to be heard through the front door and the screen. Or had she locked the screen door? She couldn’t remember.

  The hair on her arms stood up and her nipples grew tight and hot inside her jersey. She wasn’t sure if she was excited or scared. Maybe both.

  A deep sigh. It was audible to her in the total silence of her house. Usually she had music playing or the TV going or even talk radio on. Right now the only sounds were her breathing, the swish-swish-swish of Bruce’s wagging tail on the hardwood floor, the tick of the clock and then, barely audible, “Aubrey?”

  She’d known it would be him. She’d known it would be his voice she heard, but it still warmed her as if she were sitting beneath the bright summer sun.

  “Yes?”

  “Can you open the door?”

  She stayed frozen where she was. Her heart pounding. Her body on high alert. “Maybe.”

  “Did I wake you?”

  She shuffled a step forward, wanting to rush forward and let him in, but afraid of what would happen if she did. Not to her body—she knew what would happen in that respect if she let him in—but inside her. The part of her that was hurt he was keeping her at arm’s length. Whether she understood it or not.

  “A little. Mostly Bruce woke me.”

  “I came to say I can’t stop thinking about you. Despite my own warnings to you, it’s me who can’t keep my shit together. Or my distance.”

  Aubrey moved a bit closer to the door. Her hands were shaking. Her heart pounded. She licked her lips and watched Bruce wag his tail to the point where he nearly tipped himself over.

  She unlocked the door, but left the chain on. “I can’t stop thinking of you either,” she whispered.

  He reached through the gap, his hand above the security chain, and stroked her cheek. The touch made her shiver. What was keeping her from opening the door and letting him in? Pride?

  Possibly.

  “You don’t have to let me in. I wanted to say that maybe I’m an asshole.”

  That made her laugh. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  His thumb ran slowly along her lower lip and it took everything in Aubrey not to stick her tongue out and lick it.

  “I would. I think I’m pushing you away so very hard, Aubrey, because all I really want, to be honest, is to pull you close. You know you’re pretty fucking intense.”

  She cocked her head and he took her braid in his hand and tugged gently. She felt the resounding tug between her legs in the wet warmth that was just begging to be filled by Mike.

  She took a shuddery breath. “Me, intense?” A bark of laughter slipped out of her. “Are you serious? I’m intense?”

  In her mind it kept echoing. All I really want, to be honest, is to pull you close…

  “Okay, so I can be intense.” He sighed. Settled in the open part of the door. She was starting to feel stupid for not opening it and letting him in, but Mike never questioned her or asked for her to do so. “My ex hates me right now. She makes it clear daily. My son is ill, sometimes seriously so. He’s scared often, clingy always. Who wouldn’t be, right? And he must be the most important thing in my life right now. He deserves that.”

  She nodded along with his words and said, “I understand that, Mike. Why would I think any different?”

  “I’ve dated before.”

  “Congratulations. Me too.”

  He laughed at her snarky remark. “What I mean is, the few women I’ve dated before now have been okay with it at first. Then…not so much.”

  “So you assume that’s me too?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Not really. I think you just might be the one who’s not that way.”

  “So you push me away, warn me off and build a giant electric fence around yourself?” she asked, leaning against the door jamb. “So to speak.”

  “Yes.” When her eyebrows went up he hurried on. “And no.”

  “Okay, explain the and no part.”

  “You’re the only one I care about hating me for the chaos in my life.”

  “So you push me away.”

  “I don’t want you to feel second to anything. Because you never leave my head. Just around a week since I’ve known you, and you’ve put down major roots in my gray matter.”

  “So you push me away,” she repeated.

  “I’m not pushing you away,” he said. Shaking his head. Groaning softly. “I’m…”

  “Protecting me?” she asked, sighing.

  “I guess. That’s the best way to put it.”

  “I can’t let you in,” she said, making up her mind.

  “I understand.”

  “Do you?”

  “No.” He touched her cheek again and then slowly withdrew his hand.

  “Me neither,” Aubrey said. “But I think this is me protecting me.”

  “I get it.”

  “That makes one of us. And while you’re here, Mike?”

  “Yeah?” In the low light of a single living-room lamp, his blue eyes were sad.

  “I get what you thought you were doing, but if you really knew me—what family and loved ones mean to me—you wouldn’t feel the need to push me away. There would be no need to protect me. I get that connection. I honor it.”

  He nodded. “I’m sorry, Aubrey. We’ll talk soon?”

  “We will. Sure.”

  Shutting that door instead of flinging it open and letting him in was one of the hardest things Aubrey had ever done. It hurt.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Saved by the bell. Literally. Saved from even one more moment of a shitty night’s sleep, Aubrey thought as
she groped desperately for her cell phone. Her room was still nearly dark and the stupid phone had somehow migrated while she slept.

  She managed to squint at the bright screen and stab the place she needed to touch to accept the call.

  “What? Yes? Hello?” she stammered in rapid fire. Apparently, crappy sleep and feeling like someone was trying to pull your heart out of your body made for a grumpy morning.

  “Aubrey?”

  “Yes?”

  “Good morning?”

  Aubrey rubbed her face. “Is that a question?”

  A laugh from the other end. “Two words for you,” the voice said. “Key West!”

  Finally, she caught the key nuance to know who her mystery caller was. “Gail?” she asked.

  “Shit! I’m sorry,” Gail said. “I’m so excited I guess I forgot to identify myself.”

  The editor for Checkered Horse Publishing sounded way too awake for Aubrey’s liking. She suppressed the urge to groan. “No problem. Just not quite awake is all. Not that I slept well.” She sat up.

  “Oh God. One of those nights,” Gail commiserated. “I can call you back in a few minutes if you—”

  “No, no. What’s this about Key West? You can’t just drop words like that on a sleep-stunned girl and then run.”

  More laughter. “Fair enough. You sure you want to know right now?”

  “Yep. Sure.” Bruce, hearing her voice, had come in and jumped up on the bed with her. He snuggled close, licking her chin, trying to convey the message that there was food to be had and she was the ticket to the food. She patted his head.

  “Key West. We’ve decided to do a Checkered Horse calendar. Calendars—pinup calendars—do really well for the most part. We get so much mail from our female readers about our erotic covers and the models featured we wanted to put together a calendar. And of course, we wanted you to shoot it. We just found a location and some models and of course we want to use your man—that new guy you brought me—as Mr. December. He’d be fun to unwrap under the tree, don’t you thi—”

  Aubrey groaned. More from remembering the night before than from what Gail was saying. But poor Gail ground to a halt. “Are you…did I say something?”