Bait

by Mia Carson

  “Ask me if I care.” She sighed. “No, either is fine with me.”

  “Saturday then. We’ll spend the day together.”

  “And the night too, I hope.”

  “Most of it.”

  “Okay. I guess I’ll take what I can get.”

  We talked for a while longer until my phone beeped. “I have to go. My phone is about to die.”

  “I guess when that happens, we’ll consider that goodbye. I’m getting sleepy anyway.”

  “What about your laundry?” I teased.

  “Fuck it. It’s towels and underwear. I’ll fold it tomorrow.”

  “What kind of underwear,” I rumbled, putting as much suggestion into my voice as possible.

  “Why don’t you come over here and find out?” she cooed.

  I sighed dramatically. “If only I could.”

  “I’ll show you Saturday.”

  “I’ll hold you to it.”

  “Saturday I’ll give you something a lot better to hold than that.”

  I chuckled, but before I could answer, my phone died. “Dammit,” I muttered.

  I considered plugging the phone in and calling her again but decided not to. I was getting drowsy myself, and I could spend all night talking to her. I groaned as I got to my feet and buttoned my pants before I moved to the other bed to dig the charger out of my suitcase.

  -oOo-

  “Dad!” Bailey cried as I opened the door and stepped out of my car. “I’m glad you’re home!”

  “Me too.”

  “Bláithín made cottage pie. It smells so good. She said it should be ready at six.”

  “Good, because I didn’t have lunch, and I’m hungry.”

  “Me too.”

  “You’re always hungry,” I teased as he followed me into my bedroom.

  “Bláithín’s boyfriend has a really cool motorcycle.”

  I looked at him. “How do you know that?”

  “He came by yesterday after you called.”

  “He did?” Bláithín and I were going to have a talk as soon as I unpacked.

  “Don’t be mad. She didn’t know he was coming.”

  “Did he come inside?”

  “No. He wanted to, but she wouldn’t let him and told him he had to leave. She’s afraid you’re going to be mad.”

  “She knows the rules.”

  “I know. That’s why she’s afraid you’ll be mad. But it wasn’t her fault. l like Bláithín and I don’t want her to get into trouble.”

  “How do you know she didn’t know he was coming over?”

  “Because she’s scared you’ll be mad, and when she answered the door, she asked him what he was doing here. He asked to come in, but she told him no and that he had to leave. He didn’t want to, so she told me to stay inside, lock the door, and she went out and talked to him. A couple of minutes later, he left.”

  “Okay.” I still wasn’t pleased, but it sounded like maybe it wasn’t as bad as it first seemed.

  “Don’t be mad at her. It wasn’t her fault. She cried. I felt really bad for her.”

  “Did she ask you not to tell me?” I asked as I put my suitcase away.

  “No. She’s going to tell you, but I wanted to tell you first so you wouldn’t be mad.”

  I ruffled his hair. “Okay. Thanks for telling me first. Let me go talk to her.” He started to follow, perhaps in support, or maybe just to be nosey, but this conversation wasn’t for him to hear. “I need to talk to her in private. Wait in the living room or your room until I’m done, okay?”

  “Okay,” he said. I had to force myself to not smile. He really looked worried on Bláithín’s behalf.

  I crossed the house and rapped lightly on her door. “Bláithín? We need to talk about what happened.”

  She opened the door, and looked miserable, her gaze lowered. “I’m sorry, Mr. Gregg. I know I’m not supposed to have boyfriends over. I don’t know how he knew where I lived. I didn’t tell him.” She paused, staring at her feet, and forced her eyes up. “Am I in trouble?”

  Bailey had already convinced me not to lower the boom on her. “No. Did you make it clear he’s not welcome here?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Okay. I’m going to let it slide this time. I know you’re an adult, and while I don’t feel like I can tell you who you can and cannot date,” I lowered my voice, “or sleep with, I do have the right to control who visits my home. Are we clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “If something like this happens again, I expect you to cut him loose, understand?”

  “Yes, sir. I told him he was going to get me in trouble. He apologized and said it wouldn’t happen again.” She looked down. “He said he couldn’t stop thinking about me,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “That’s his problem, not mine.”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, lowering her gaze again.

  “Bláithín, look at me.” I waited until she looked up. “I’m telling you this as someone concerned for your wellbeing. Be careful with this guy. Having a man just show up on your doorstep after only one date, especially if you didn’t tell him where you lived, isn’t a good sign.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I smiled at her. “Okay. Enough about that. Your cottage pie smells good and I’m starving.”

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For understanding. I really like it here and I wouldn’t do anything to…”

  “Make sure he understands the rules, and everything will be fine.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Carolyn

  I sat on my couch, waiting for Thom to arrive. It was nearly one, he was on his way, and I knew he had something planned for lunch. I wasn’t sure what, but he’d told me to dress comfortably. I smiled when I heard the soft rap on my door. Out of habit I checked the peephole and opened the door.

  “Ready?” Thom asked. He was dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a light, comfortable looking shirt. In way of answer I stepped out and closed the door behind me. We exchanged a quick kiss after I locked up.

  “Where are we going?” I asked as we trotted down the steps.

  “Lake Norman.”

  “Lake Norman? What’s there?”

  “Lunch.”

  I looked at him in confusion but said nothing. I’d expected something different from the way he was acting, but several well-regarded restaurants lined the lake’s shoreline. My confusion grew when we pulled into the state park.

  “We’re eating here?”

  “Why not? When was the last time you went on a picnic?”

  “Picnic? Are you serious?” I asked. I hadn’t been on a picnic since I was little girl.

  “Sure. I thought it’d be nice to get you alone for an hour or so.”

  A smile pulled at my lips. Put that way, a picnic didn’t sound so bad. He drove slowly, bypassing several tables. He was clearly looking for something specific.

  “This looks like a good place,” he said as the Volvo rolled to a stop.

  He looked around a moment and we started moving again. We drove about a half-mile before he pulled into a small parking area near some tables and fire pits. I shook my head and smiled. Most people would have simply pulled into the grass. We stepped out of the car and he pulled an old-fashioned wicker picnic basket from the back of the car. He tucked his arm through the handles and offered his elbow. I slipped my arm through the opening and snuggled in close as we started back along the road to where we’d stopped.

  It took about ten minutes to walk back to the spot he’d picked. As we walked we discussed his trip, my day at work, and anything else that came to mind. He was so easy to talk to, conversations between us were always delightful and fun. We stepped into the grass. The ground, shaded by several large trees, sloped gently toward the water. He set the basket down and opened it, pulling out a large blanket strapped to the underside of the lid. I watched in silent amazement. He spread the bla
nket on the ground and moved the basket onto the corner. He kicked his shoes off and settled to the ground. I smiled and did the same.

  He pulled out real china and two wine glasses as well as small serving plates, all of which were carefully strapped to the top under where the blanket had been. A bottle of wine appeared next, followed by small finger sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, strawberries and grapes, and dried pineapple sections and figs. Small cubes of cheese were added to the selection before the final item from the basket appeared, a book. The Girl on Paper by Guillaume Musso. I wasn’t a reader, had never heard of the book or the author, and I was curious why he’d brought it.

  To say I was impressed would be a gross understatement. “You went all out,” I said softly. It was like something out of a movie.

  He shrugged. “I had nothing else to do while I waited for you to get off work.”

  I looked around at the carefully prepared food as he poured the wine and handed me a glass. “I didn’t think you liked wine.”

  He snickered. “I don’t, but what’s a romantic picnic without wine?” He tipped his glass toward me and sipped after. “Good,” he said, but his face told a different story.

  “Liar,” I teased as I took a sip. Wine wasn’t my first beverage of choice, but this wasn’t bad.

  We spent the next hour nibbling on the delicacies he’d packed. I’d never had muffuletta before, but they were delicious, and paired well with the wine.

  “You made these?” I asked, hoisting another of the finger sandwich sections.

  “Yes. I bought the olive salad, but I put them together. You like them?”

  “They’re wonderful.”

  After the sandwiches we fed each other bits of fruit as we watched the water, diamond-like sparkles reflecting off its surface as the gentle breeze rippled the surface. Like so many things, I thought I wouldn’t like the figs, but they were surprisingly tasty, especially when combined with the tiny cubes of the sharp, yellow cheese and the wine.

  The entire affair was incredibly romantic, unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. Before Thom I was all about the party…music, dancing, drinking, and fucking. I would have laughed out loud at any woman who dared confess she’d like to spend a quiet couple of hours, sitting on the ground under a tree, sipping wine and nibbling on fruit while enjoying the company of her lover. I didn’t have time for boring shit like that. Yet, here I was, doing that exact thing and enjoying the hell out of it.

  “The Girl on Paper, Chapter One,” he said, and I turned to look at him.

  I listened as he read, his voice pleasing in timbre and cadence. After a moment, he pulled me in close as we lay back. He held the book in one hand so that I could see the words as he read them, his other arm comfortably around me as I used it as a makeshift pillow. After a few false starts, we soon worked out the system of him holding the book and me turning the page.

  I began to get sleepy and closed my eyes as I listened to his voice. The book was a little strange, a story about a girl from a book that came to life. He stopped reading.

  “Why’d you stop?” I mumbled.

  “You fell asleep.”

  His words were hard to process. “No I didn’t,” I finally said as I forced my eyes open.

  His side moved beside me as he chuckled. “Then you do a damned good imitation of it. But since you’re awake.” He gently pulled his arm out from under my head as he groaned, gasped, and shook his hand. “My arm went to sleep.”

  I sat up, blinking. The book was closed and lying beside him, and the shade cast by the trees had moved. The sun was almost touching the blanket now. “How long?”

  “Don’t know. Maybe an hour.”

  “I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you wake me up?”

  “And miss a chance to sleep with you in public? Never!”

  The sleep was falling away and my brain was starting to work again. I yawned. “It was wonderful, all of this.”

  He smiled in that way he had. “I’m glad you liked it. It’s nice to have you all to myself.”

  “I feel the same way,” I murmured as I offered him my lips.

  He took them, and I pulled him on top of me as I fell back onto the blanket. His kiss banished the lingering sleep, and I was well kissed when he lifted and watched my eyes.

  “What?” I whispered. He slowly shook his head as a small but mysterious smile tugged at his lips. “Tell me,” I demanded quietly.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Then tell me.”

  “I was just thinking how beautiful you are and how lucky I am to have had…whatever that dog’s name was to—”

  I returned his smile. “Hoover.”

  “That Hoover knocked me down. Without him, I would have never met you.”

  I’d been told I was sexy, smokin’ hot, foxy, bangable, fine, and yes, even beautiful, but never had a man said it to me like he had. It wasn’t the word, it was how he said it and how he looked at me. The way he said it changed the flavor of the word, like he was looking inside me when he said I was beautiful. I felt like he was describing more than my body. I was touched in a way I’d never felt before, and for the briefest of instances, I thought I might cry.

  The mood was getting heavy and I was afraid he was going to confess his undying love or something. I liked Thom, I liked him a lot, but I wasn’t ready for that. “You’re going to get laid tonight. You don’t have to keep buttering me up.”

  The heavy feeling shattered as he chuckled, the seriousness in his eyes disappearing with his laughter. He kissed me again, though more playfully this time. “I wasn’t, but that’s good to know.”

  “Do you really think I’m beautiful?”

  He slumped slightly, his face twisting in comic disbelief as if I’d asked him if rain was wet. “Don’t you have a mirror at your place?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then you know you are. If you don’t see it, I know a good optometrist.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. He always made me feel good about myself. “Do you think glasses would make me sexy?”

  “You could make a chicken suit sexy.” He paused as he studied me seriously and grimaced as he shook his head. “No. No glasses. I don’t think my heart could stand you any sexier than you already are.”

  “You’re such a flirt!” I exclaimed in teasing reprimand, but secretly his words pleased me. I wondered if I should pick up a pair of non-prescription glasses. Thom’s glasses complemented his face, and I thought they made him even sexier. Intelligent and hot, a one-two punch that made me want to drop my panties every time I saw him.

  He gave me a quick kiss and sat up, pulling me up by my hands. “I have something else I want to do with you.”

  “Oooh,” I purred. “Do you think we’ll get caught?”

  He grinned as he began picking up the remains of our picnic. “You know when you say stuff like that it makes me walk funny, right?”

  “I’ll have to help you with that,” I purred as I helped pick up and put away.

  As soon as the basket was loaded, we strolled back the way we came. It was almost four as he unlocked the car and placed the basket into the back. We returned the way we arrived, but about halfway back, he turned off the road that would take us home to Charlotte and kept turning onto progressively smaller and less traveled roads until we pulled to a stop outside a facility, a thirty-foot hawk in flight gracing its entrance with Southeast Raptors labeled below. I looked at Thom. The only thing I knew about raptors is they were a type of dinosaur…and apparently a type of hawk or eagle.

  “Raptors?” I asked, not wanting to appear ignorant.

  “Yeah. I brought Bailey here last summer and it was amazing. I thought you might enjoy it.”

  “Sure!” I said, forcing some enthusiasm into my voice. Thom was much more—scholarly was the only word I could think of—than I was. I was a simple Carolina girl with simple tastes and ideas of what was fun, and seeing a bunch of birds wasn’t on the list. As he paid our entrance fee, I realize
d I wasn’t being fair to him. I used to think the same thing about espressos, craft beer, good food, and picnics. Each time he introduced me to something new, I realized how narrowminded I’d been. I decided to keep an open mind as he took my hand and led me inside.

  We didn’t have a lot of time, but we were able to catch the last show. At first I was bored, only Thom’s presence making the experience enjoyable, but the more the woman handling the birds talked, the more interested I became. Some of the birds were much larger than I would have guessed from seeing them in flight, and the presenter really brought them to life. By the time the woman finished her presentation and invited the audience up for a closer look at Lancaster, a Red-Shoulder Hawk, I was as interested as anyone there.

  We were allowed to touch, but I kept my distance, allowing the kids in the audience to get closer. My motives weren’t entirely altruistic. Lancaster, like most of the birds, looked pissed off even though he seemed perfectly content with being handled. He was muzzled, but the facts the woman had recited were still rattling around in my head and I had developed a healthy respect for the animal.

  Show over, we were invited by the presenter to follow the walking trail that allowed us to see the birds in their natural environment. Thom and I walked slowly, once again hand in hand, as we observed all manner of owl, hawk, eagle, vulture, and crow, all raptors, the group name for birds that fed on other animals.

  As we walked, talked, pointed, and read the signage that told us what we were seeing, I made up my mind I wasn’t going to question Thom’s choices again. If he wanted to take me to an opera, something I swore I’d rather die than see, I’d go with an open mind. I didn’t have to enjoy the activity, but I was tired of feeling foolish and so close-minded. There was a lot more to this world than the next party.

  We were on the far side of the compound when Thom’s phone rang. “Sorry,” he muttered as he pulled his phone out and looked at the screen. He frowned. “Hello?” He stopped walking and his face turn to stone. “He’s gone now?” Pause. “Are the cops still there?” Another pause. “Okay, good. You did the right thing. I’ll be home in less than thirty minutes.” He ended the call and took my hand.