Autumn Getaway (Seasons of Love)

by Gracen, Jennifer

  “Tell us about the trip to Europe, then,” Lydia said. “Where did you go?”

  Sam looked at her, and their eyes met. Warmth flooded his insides. He gave a small, soft smile of appreciation. She gave a kind, encouraging smile in return.

  “I started in London,” he began. The four of them spent the next half hour talking about various places in Europe as he brought up city after city, country after country that he’d visited. Sam was glad for the neutral topic; he and Lydia were soon caught up in an easy, at times amusing conversation. Her friends brought out the playfulness in her and her sharper, witty side; they all wisecracked with each other often, showing the deep knowledge and comfort of a long and close friendship. The drinks the waiter had brought in the beginning of the conversation had been finished and another round ordered when the music turned softer.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” the DJ announced, “your salads are being delivered to your tables, so if you would kindly retake your seats, we’re going to bring the pace down a bit.”

  Three couples stayed on the dance floor to take the opportunity to enjoy a slow dance.

  “I love this song,” Lydia said, recognizing it instantly.

  “I don’t know it,” Kathryn admitted. “Who is this?”

  “John Legend, again,” Lydia told her. “It’s called ‘Ordinary People’.”

  Sam stood up, buttoned the top button of his jacket, and gazed at her with purpose. He gracefully extended his hand down to her and said in a smooth, enticing tone, “I believe you owe me a dance.”

  Lydia felt a shiver run through her as she looked up at him. His deep voice was almost as seductive as the look in his eyes. She smiled and, almost shyly, placed her hand in his and rose.

  “Ladies, if you’ll excuse us,” Sam said to Donna and Kathryn.

  “Go, go,” Donna urged, smiling at them.

  “See you later,” Kathryn cooed.

  Lydia walked to the dance floor with Sam. There were only three other couples dancing, so she felt a little awkward, realizing that possibly everyone in the ballroom would be watching them dance. Her heartbeat started to pound in her ears.

  Sam smiled down at her and pulled her close. “They’re not all looking at us,” he said with a teasing smile, as if he could read her mind. He aligned her body with his, placed a warm hand at the small of her back. “And if they are watching us, who cares? Let them. I felt you stiffen up just now. Relax.”

  Caught, she gave a short laugh and blushed slightly as she laced one arm around his neck. He took her other hand in his and squeezed it. She let her cheek rest against his shoulder as they began to dance, nice and slow.

  Sam smiled again, this time to himself. She felt good in his arms, against him. At last, he thought, real contact. He tried not to concentrate on how delicious she felt, on how her ample breasts felt pressed lushly against his chest, on the strong stirrings of lust deep in his belly. He took a long, calming breath, took in the lightly floral fragrance of her hair. He liked how their bodies fit together.

  “I like this song,” he said halfway through the song, just to be saying something. “You have pretty eclectic tastes in music. Classic rock, R&B, pop… I have to say, I’m impressed.”

  “I’m glad I impress you,” Lydia joked.

  He lowered his head to say quietly into her ear, “There are many things about you that impress me.” He pulled back and looked into her eyes. The corner of his mouth turned up in the subtle half-smile she found extremely alluring.

  She felt her pulse accelerate. She felt off kilter, unbalanced, and as flustered as a young girl. So she said nothing. She just let her head lean on his shoulder as they danced, with her face turned inward, towards him, away from the eyes of the room. He smiled into the top of her hair.

  They danced slowly, enjoying each other’s closeness, enjoying being together, until the song ended and flowed into the next one. It was an older love ballad, a bit dated and bordering on cheesy, but neither of them moved to stop. Sam softly pulled her even closer, held her to him as they continued dancing, held her hand against his chest.

  She could feel the hard lines of his body against hers, and something almost unrecognizable flowed powerfully through her. It tilted her stomach and made her blood race. With some shock, she recognized that it was desire, pure and simple. She hadn’t had a physical reaction like this, or wanted anyone like this, in years. It was simmering, smoldering, and would soon come to a full boil if he kept holding her this way. The surprise of it made her laugh once, a short laugh of disbelief and amazement at herself.

  “What’s funny?” Sam asked with a grin, pulling back a bit to search her face.

  “Nothing,” she said quickly, and put her head back down on his shoulder.

  He lowered his head slightly, pressed the side of his face to her forehead. He touched his lips to her cheek so lightly she wasn’t sure if he’d really done it. But it gave her a jolt nonetheless.

  The song ended after a few minutes, and a new one began, Ella Fitzgerald’s “Night And Day”, a little more up-tempo than the previous song. They stopped dancing, but neither of them moved. Her heart started to thump inside her chest.

  “Lydia,” he murmured into her ear. “I don’t want to let you go.”

  She pulled back to look up into his eyes and see his expression. He wasn’t playing her, he was serious. His dark eyes bore into hers, full of intensity, yearning… it made her mouth go dry. She didn’t know what to say or do in response. She was uncharacteristically speechless.

  “May I cut in?” said a gentle voice behind them.

  They both turned to see Sam’s mother standing there, a cordial smile on her face. Lydia could see where he’d gotten his good looks from; for a woman in her sixties, Marcy Forrester was still a very attractive woman, petite, with the same thick, dark hair, warm brown eyes, and fantastic smile that Sam had.

  Before Sam could protest, Lydia pulled away from him. “Of course,” she said to Marcy. “You can’t deny the request of such a beautiful woman,” she added to Sam with a teasing smile.

  Sam just nodded, his eyes glued to Lydia as his mother moved into his arms.

  “C’mon, Sam, give your old mom a twirl,” Marcy said in a sassy tone.

  “I’ll see you later,” Lydia assured Sam with a soft grin. “Nice to meet you,” she said to Marcy before walking away.

  “Mom,” he said into her ear as they began to dance. “I love you, but you better give me a really good reason you just cut in on that.”

  “To give you a chance to think,” Marcy Forrester said.

  He pulled back and looked at his mother quizzically. “About what?”

  “About that lovely woman,” Marcy replied. “And she is lovely. But Alec tells me she just got divorced, very recently.”

  “What?” Sam sputtered. “What are you, checking up on me? On who I talk to? For Christ’s sake, you've got to be kidding me.”

  “I’m your mother, that’s what mothers do,” Marcy said calmly, unaffected by the angry set of her son’s jaw. “You were eyeing that girl all last night at dinner, and the whole time you’ve been here today. You’re obviously taken with her. So I got curious, and asked around.”

  “Asked around?” Sam repeated, incredulous. “Jesus. That’s great. That's just great.”

  “Well, the good news is, apparently she’s regarded as being very nice, very smart, and very kind,” Marcy went on. “So that’s encouraging.”

  “According to your trusted sources,” Sam said. He expelled a deep sigh, giving up and playing along.

  “Yes,” Marcy smiled broadly, seeing that her son’s annoyance was quickly dissipating. He could never stay mad at her for long; she was glad to see that hadn't changed. “And I personally think she’s very pretty. She’s a little unique looking, not like the cookie cutter girls you dated for a while. So it’s nice to see you still have good taste.”

  “Thanks,” Sam quipped. “Glad you approve. I mean, isn’t it every thirty-five-year-old
man’s dream to have his possible dates pre-approved by his mommy?”

  Marcy laughed. “Of course it is!”

  “Mm hmm.” Sam grinned. “So? Go on, then. She sounds, and looks, great to me. What’s the bad news?”

  “I told you. She just got divorced, Sam. You’re making obvious advances on a woman who literally just signed her divorce papers,” Marcy repeated for emphasis. “Did you not know that?”

  “Of course I knew that,” Sam said with a trace of impatience. “From the start, before I even started really flirting with her. She told me that straight out in our very first conversation, she's not hiding that. There's nothing to hide. Hey—she has a little boy, did your sources tell you that too?”

  “Yes. So you know she’s newly divorced, with a young child, and you’re pursuing her anyway?” Marcy asked, surprised.

  “So she’s recently divorced,” Sam said. “It’s final. She’s free. Since when do you all get so ruffled by a woman getting divorced? What year are we in, could you remind me? 'Cause it sounds like and feels like 1953.”

  Marcy rolled her eyes. “Sam. It’s just that… well… you’ve likely met this woman at a very vulnerable time in her life. That's not good. Not for her, or for you.”

  “Mom.” Sam stopped moving, forcing her to stop also. He looked down at his mother with a piercing gaze. “I just met her yesterday. We've talked a few times, spent a bit of time together where we enjoyed each other's company, and now shared a dance. I'm not running away and marrying her, for Christ's sake. Why are you all getting on me so hard for this? What do you think I’m going to do to her? Or, should I ask, what do you think she’s going to do to me?”

  “Hopefully, just having a one-night stand,” Marcy said flatly. “Because she’s probably not at her emotional best right now. Don't lead her on.”

  Sam closed his eyes, shook his head, and sputtered, “I can’t—I don’t—”

  “I’m just being honest,” Marcy said. “Look, I didn’t know if you were aware that she was so recently divorced. Now I know you know, so that’s it. That's all I was trying to ascertain. You’re a grown man, Sam. I’m not here to try to get in your way. You’re free to do what you like.”

  “Gee, thanks for your permission,” he snapped venomously, and started to walk away.

  “Sam.” Marcy grabbed her son’s elbow. He turned back to look at her. “Don’t be angry with me. I was just looking out for you. That’s what mothers do, and brothers too while I'm at it.” She sighed and added, “You’ve been through so much… I just… I was surprised. Because honestly, I haven’t seen you look at a woman the way you’ve been looking at Lydia since…” Her voice trailed off, and she simply shrugged, her dark eyes sad and wistful.

  Sam was stunned at how well his mother could still read him. It was true, a woman hadn’t provoked this strong an initial response in him since Chelsea. He felt… he felt like he actually felt something for Lydia. He wasn't even sure yet what it was, but his mother had seen that somehow. Her acuity unnerved him. He took a deep breath and exhaled it in a frustrated gust, then bent down to give his mother a kiss on her soft cheek. “I love you, Mom. Thanks for looking out for me. Now leave it alone, okay? Like you said, I’m a big boy now.”

  “I know that.” She smiled. “My work here is done.”

  “Good to know,” he said. He winked, shot her a quick grin, and walked away.

  Lydia was sitting with her friends again, caught up in conversation. Sam didn’t want to interrupt just yet, and his head was still spinning from his mother's words, so he headed to the bar and ordered a drink.

  Alec came over to join him. “Hey, little brother. How’s it goin’?”

  “What’d you say to Mom about Lydia?” Sam asked sharply, turning on his brother. “And why the hell are you even talking about her, when I very clearly told you to drop it?”

  “Whoa! Down, boy.” Alec chuckled. Sam's rancor didn't seem to faze him in the slightest. “I just asked Ryan and Melanie a little bit about her, since you're so obviously besotted with her that you can’t see straight, much less think straight.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Sam muttered. He speared his older brother with an irate look. “Enough, Alec. Enough. I'm asking you outright now: just leave it alone, will you?”

  “Okay, okay. Consider it left,” Alec said jovially. When the bartender finished fixing Sam’s scotch, Alec held his younger brother's wrist and asked the bartender for two shots of tequila. Within a minute, Alec clinked his shot glass to Sam’s, and they knocked back the shots.

  “Come back to the table and eat something,” Alec said. “We need to soak up all this booze, we can’t get sloppy. Plus, if you watch the kids for a few minutes, I can ask my wife to dance. I know she’s been waiting for me to. Do me a solid.”

  Sam felt the rush of the alcohol whirring through him and knew Alec had a good point; if he kept up at this pace, he'd be too drunk in a very short time. “Sure,” he nodded, but grabbed his scotch before they headed back to their table.

  The music had turned upbeat once more, and Sam munched on rolls from the bread basket as he watched people make their way to the dance floor. He saw Donna and Kathryn drag Lydia up with them—her slightly unwilling, all of them laughing, as the three of them started to dance together. Sam could spot them easily in the middle of the crowd. Lydia’s back was to him; he kept his eyes on her mane of copper hair that bobbed in time to the music, and the hypnotic sway of her curvy hips. She was a good dancer. She had a natural feel for the beat, and was sexy as hell, as far as he was concerned. He couldn’t help but stare at her voluptuous ass, moving in time to the music. Then he noticed Donna was watching him watch her friend. Caught, he merely winked at Donna, who smiled widely back at him, obviously not disapproving.

  He continued to watch, entertained, as the next song started, an old school hip-hop classic. Melanie yelled in approval, and went over to start dancing with her three college friends. They laughed, shouted at each other, bumped hips—they were having a great time. He enjoyed watching them enjoy themselves.

  “Uncle Sam?” His elder niece’s voice intruded upon his visage.

  “Yes, Hope?” he answered, looking down at the ten-year-old girl with an open smile. “What can I do for you, my sweet?”

  “I’m bored,” she said. She leaned her chin on her hand and sighed.

  Sam chuckled. “Yeah, weddings can be a little boring sometimes.” He reached over and grabbed one of the crayons the kids had been coloring with. He took a piece of paper from their pile, turned it over to the blank side, and drew a tic-tac-toe board. Then he held the red crayon out to Hope. “You go first.”

  She beamed at him, adoring and appreciative, before marking an X in the center square.

  * * *

  The four college friends danced together for two more songs before the bride went to go boogie down with her new husband.

  “I need water,” Donna panted. “I’m sweating here!”

  “Me too,” Lydia said, wiping a few beads from her own forehead.

  “How about a touchup?” Kathryn asked.

  “Let’s go,” Lydia said, and the three of them boogied their way off the dance floor to the ladies’ room.

  “Did you see Sam hanging out with his niece at their table?” Donna asked once they were in the bathroom. “Very cute.”

  “Shhh!” Lydia hissed before whispering, “You never know who’s in a bathroom, you don’t mention names.”

  “I looked under the doors, no feet,” Donna said. “We’re alone in here. Jeez, give me some credit.” She rolled her eyes.

  Lydia just shook her head and took a powder foundation compact out of her handbag.

  “You guys looked great on the dance floor together before. Big time sex vibes. You have some real chemistry,” Donna remarked.

  Lydia scowled as she lightly powdered her face.

  “I really like him,” Kathryn enthused from Lydia’s other side. She fixed wisps of her long brown hair that had gone askew
while dancing. “He's smart, and he's sweet.”

  “He’s great,” Donna agreed, reapplying dark wine colored lipstick to her full mouth. “He’s got a sense of humor, he’s nice, he’s easygoing, he’s naturally charming but not in a sleazy way. We totally approve.”

  “I thought you guys just wanted me to sleep with him,” Lydia cracked, as she snapped her compact shut. “I didn’t know any of those listed qualities mattered for a one night stand.”

  “They don’t,” Donna said airily. “But they’re very nice bonuses. We already established he’s hot. But now, we know you could actually talk to him once you’re done. If you wanted to.”

  Lydia snorted derisively and filled in her lips with a pale mauve lipliner pencil.

  “Seriously, though,” Kathryn said as she applied fresh eye shadow. She met Lydia's eyes in the mirror. “If you do… go off with him… at some point. Do you want us to come look for you, or leave you be?”

  Lydia turned to stare at her friend. The gold flecks in her golden brown eyes seemed ablaze as she sputtered, “What?”

  “You heard her,” Donna said. “Don't play dumb. Just tell us, what should we do? Drag you out, or let you stay? We’re just looking out for you.”

  “Oh my God,” Lydia moaned. “Seriously, how old are we? Approaching forty, last time I checked. I don’t need chaperones, or nudges. Would you guys stop it already? Please?”

  “Hey, you’re our friend, and if things get to a point and you want out, we’re just offering you that out,” Donna said unapologetically. “Besides. We’re boring, old, married ladies. We’re not getting any new action, so we’re living vicariously through you tonight. It’s fun. And! For the record, we’re not pushing forty just yet. We’re only thirty-seven—you aren’t even yet!—which still qualifies us as ‘late thirties’, thank you very much.”

  “Whatever happens, happens,” Lydia said. She closed her handbag and added, “I'll see you both inside, I need some fresh air.” Slightly embarrassed from all the attention on her possible interactions with Sam, she turned on her heel and left the ladies’ room. As soon as she rounded the corner, she slammed right into him. His hands went out automatically to steady her, grasping her upper arms. They looked at each other, noticed they wore similar exasperated expressions, and laughed.