Midlife Crisis: another romance for the over 40: (Silver Fox Former Rock Star)

by L. B. Dunbar

  As the two men shake hands, I admire the flex of Hank’s forearm and the strength under his inked skin. I want to feel those hands on me again, and my eyes travel up the etched pattern to find him looking back at me.

  “Midge?” I blink. Shit. Did he say something to me? Should I know what he said? “The cake, little lady.”

  “Right,” I squeak. “Cake.” I want to eat him. I shake my head. I’m a mess.

  “Come with me, so you can pick what you want. I’ll drive.”

  I nod, a needy moth to a bright flame. “Wait!” I turn to Ivy as my practical side slams on the brakes. “The boys.”

  “Liam’s fine. He’s found Petty who can watch him.” Gage chuckles, and I know why. Jon Petty is the drummer for Collison, Gage’s band, and he’s the least likely to be responsible for a rock let alone a child. Liam’s only twelve and has more sense.

  “Maybe I should just—”

  “Midge. He’s fine. I’ll find him. Just go.” Ivy’s smile assures me. She’s met my boys on a few occasions over the past six weeks, and my Liam has a serious crush on her. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she encourages it. I grin at the thought.

  “Okay. I’ll just get my purse.”

  “You don’t need it. I’ve got this,” Hank interjects. “Consider it my contribution to the day.” He places a hand on the small of my back and guides me to a large SUV. We walk without a word as all I can concentrate on is the warmth of his hand on me. Like a true gentleman, he opens the door for me and helps me into the vehicle.

  As we ride in uncomfortable silence, my mind races through a checklist, confirming I haven’t forgotten anything else. I’m mentally scrolling the list so I don’t think about how turned on I am to be in a confined space again with Hank or how awkward I feel because of it. I’m also hoping he’s forgotten about my call into the crisis center.

  “So, you have boys?” he asks, rolling his free hand over his wrist, moving a collection of bands. His arm rests lazily over the edge of the steering wheel as he maneuvers us down side streets.

  “Yes. Three.” His head swings toward me.

  “You have three kids?” Serious gray eyes roam my body. I’m uncertain of the implication, so I continue.

  “Elston is seventeen. Ronin, my son in the high school band, is fifteen, and Liam is ten.” I pause, recalling I’d spewed this information to him when I thought he was a crisis center operator. Cripes. My fingers twitch to cover my face. Please don’t let him remember anything.

  “Not married,” he confirms, eyes shifting to my empty left hand. I used to wear the ring. It brought me a strange comfort even when the marriage was over, but about a year ago, the weight of the ring bore heavy. Maybe it was the impending marriage of my ex to his younger girlfriend.

  “Nope.” My eyes drift to his hand, dangling over the steering wheel. As if he senses my perusal, he flexes his fingers. The fingers nervously stroking the beads on his wrist reach over and lift my left hand. Drawing it to his lips, he sucks at the empty space on my ring finger.

  “Me neither,” he mutters against my skin. “Never been.” I shiver with the touch, the tone of his voice, and the overall gesture of his lips on me. I’m pathetic.

  “What about children?” I ask.

  “I would have liked to have them. But have none I’ve been told of.” Although I catch the hint of humor, there’s something underlying his comment. None that he knows of. What a strange way to phrase things.

  “Is there the possibility you have wayward children out there?” I try to jest in return, but I’m curious. He simply shakes his head, absentmindedly stroking a thumb over my ring finger.

  “You’re Ivy’s uncle?” I’d only heard of Tommy Carrigan as her family.

  “Just in name. We aren’t family like that.” His silence after his answer lingers in the air. He isn’t going to offer more, and I’m not in the mindset to pry.

  “Where are we going?” I’m hoping to deflect my overactive imagination, which conjures up a scene where he pulls this SUV over and takes me in the back seat.

  “Because Cupcakes. It’s a bakery around here.” I don’t question how he knows these things. We’ve crossed through some questionable parts at the outer edge of the city. If I didn’t know the reasoning behind Ivy’s desire to stay in the area, I’d have pushed her to relocate as well.

  Suddenly, we pull up in front of a business with feminine scroll on a frilly, pink awning. Gauzy curtains dress the window, framing shelves of cupcakes which look like designer confectionary instead of edible treats. They’re beautiful with piles of icing in silver, white, pink, and light chocolate. My mouth waters.

  Hank surprises me again when he opens my door and assists me out of the SUV. He holds my fingers for a moment longer than necessary before leading me to the bakery entrance and holding the door open for me. It’s been a long time since a man’s been a gentleman toward me.

  “Hank?” The woman behind the counter seems both surprised and pleased to see him as we enter. I recall the woman in the hallway the night we met, and I wonder if he goes anywhere where some woman doesn’t know him. This can mean only one thing—player.

  “Lily.” His direct address to the blonde behind the counter startles me. My guess is she’s in her forties. She’s pretty with caramel colored hair, cut to her chin and bright blue eyes.

  “Is Brut with you?” The fold to her shoulders alerts me this woman hates that she asked at the same time she wants an answer.

  “Nope.” Again, Hank’s directness shocks me. More surprising is when his hand returns to my lower back, caresses lightly before he urges me forward. Lily’s eyes shift to me.

  “How can I help you?” She’s gone into business mode, ignoring the fact Brut isn’t here, whoever he is. I delve into the explanation of the high school fundraiser for the music therapy school, clarifying my connection, and my error with the cake.

  “Why didn’t you come to me?” This question goes to Hank, who shrugs, looking away like an errant child. I don’t understand what’s happening, but there is some kind of history here. “Did you say Ivy Everly owns the school?”

  Hank nods, and the woman’s face brightens. “How is she?”

  “Married with children.” Hank replies.

  “Children?” Lily’s eyes widen.

  “She has three,” Hank clarifies.

  “Three kids. Whoa.” They laugh for a second although I’m not certain why having three children is funny. Without further explanation, Lily continues. “This might take a few minutes. Let me step in the back, and I’ll gather up what I think you’ll need.” She winks. “But while you wait, what would you like to sample?”

  Hank coughs once next to me, but my eyes fixate on a mini round cake with a white dollop of icing and a raspberry on top. “Oh, I’m good.” I dismiss with a wave, but a graveled voice in my ear encourages me.

  “Try a sample, little lady.” I close my eyes to the innuendo as a shiver ripples over my skin. I try to refocus my thoughts and order the white chocolate with raspberry treat. Lily adds two other cupcakes to a pink plate and hands it to Hank, instructing him to, “Take a seat.”

  We walk to the counter spanning the length of her second window and sit on high stools. Hank adjusts his stool to bring it closer to me. We face each other, and his knee slips between my thighs.

  “Take a bite.” The words roll over me, and I shiver again, wanting nothing more than to open my mouth and nibble on him. He’s holding out the cupcake, and I’m wondering how my mouth will fit around the tower of icing. For some reason, my eyes lower to the seam of his jeans, but then I look away quickly. A man his size has to be large in other areas, and my mouth reacts in the same way it does toward this cupcake. Would it fit? How would it taste? A trembling hand comes to my forehead as I reprimand myself to get a grip.

  “Wait.” He drags the white covered mini cake from my open mouth and I sit up, a little embarrassed and a lot frustrated as my mouth hangs open in anticipation. Setting the deli
cacy on the plate, he slips off his stool, disappears behind the display counter to the back room, and then returns. He stands at my side, sticking a candle in the icing next to the raspberry. My eyes widen, and my stomach flips—uncertain of his gesture and equally apprehensive of his memory. He flicks a lighter, and a single flame tops the candle.

  “Happy Birthday,” he singsongs beside me, raspy and rumbling. His eyes find mine, pinning me to my seat when all I want to do is melt under it.

  “You remembered?” I lower my head, picking at the hem of my athletic skirt. My cheeks heat with humiliation. A thick fingertip props up my chin as he takes his seat across from me.

  “I’m so embarrassed,” I add, closing my eyes, unable to face him.

  “Open those beautiful eyes, Middy.”

  “Middy?” I chuckle nervously, snapping my attention up to him.

  “Midge seems too old-fashioned for someone like you.”

  “Someone like me.” I quietly parrot him. What do I look like to him? Who does he see? What must he think of me for calling into the hotline? He doesn’t explain and I chew at my lip. His thumb reaches up and tugs the tender skin from my teeth.

  “Don’t be embarrassed about calling in to the crisis center. We all need someone to talk to sometimes.” I wish I could believe him, but I am a bit ashamed. My call seems so frivolous, not a real issue. I’m typically stronger at handling things. In hindsight, I don’t remember what I said.

  “How old are you, Middy?”

  “Forty-one.” A twinkle sparks in his steely eyes, making them silver. I like how he’s looking at me.

  “Time to walk on the wild side. Make a wish, little lady, and take a bite.”

  Why does the nickname make my belly flutter? Moreover, what wish should I make?

  I wish I may. I wish I might. I blow out the candle, blushing from the warm sunshine steaming through the window and the sweetness of this man.

  He holds the cupcake up to me again, minus the candle, and I open wide, dragging my teeth over the whipped sugar. My lids lower, and I may have purred at the pure heaven exploding in my mouth. White chocolate and raspberry. Yum.

  “Better than an orgasm.” I sigh. Then realize what I’ve said. My eyes snap open to find his enlarged, dancing in the sunlight and flickering with something I haven’t ever seen directed at me. Like a big, bad wolf, he looks like he wants to eat me, and somehow, I’m certain the pleasure will be all mine.

  “You’ve got…” His voice trails off as he swipes at my nose. Cripes. Here I thought he wanted to devour me, and he’s only staring because I have frosting on my face.

  “Oh dear.” I reach for my nose, but he grips my wrist. His knee slips between my thighs again. When did he scoot so close? He sets the cupcake down, pokes a finger into the creamy frosting, and looks up at me.

  “You have more here.” Before I can speak, he coats my lower lip with the icing. A gasp parts my lips, and he leans forward. “Let me get that.”

  Instantly, soft lips cover mine, sucking at the sugary treat and spreading the delicacy before his tongue sneaks out and licks along the line. I open without thinking, and it’s all the invitation he needs. A hand cups the back of my head, and his mouth takes mine deeper, rougher, stronger. Lapping at mine, he cleans off the frosting and adds a new layer of sweetness. I might have purred again, and his lips curl. He’s smiling while he kisses me, and I’m so turned on.

  My hands lower to his knee between my legs, feeling the thin, slippery material of his track pants. My fingers outline the muscular bulge of his leg, and my thighs clench around the bulk. The curve of his knee hovers an inch away from where I need some friction. I’m already damp. If he presses any closer, I’m sure to leave a stain on him. His fingers comb into my hair, holding me in place to continue our kissing. Icing lingers on our lips while other areas grow stickier. I’m ready to hump his knee like a dog in heat when a strong cough comes from my left. Breaking apart, I turn away from the business owner, covering my lips with shaky fingers. I need a moment to regain myself.

  “Thanks, Lily.” Sarcasm drips from Hank’s voice, but it isn’t really her fault. We are in a public place, in broad daylight, kissing like two teenagers on an afternoon date. Sweet cheese, if only.

  Hank stands, blocking me from Lily’s view. I can’t look at the other woman yet, embarrassment hitting me hard. “How much do I owe?” he says.

  This pulls me back to reality.

  “No. I’ve got this. It was my mistake.” I fumble around me to remember I don’t even have my purse. This man has me so mixed up I walked away from everything: the fundraiser, my boys, and my belongings.

  “It’s okay, Middy. This one’s on me.” I’m not certain if he means the cupcakes or the potential mistake of kissing me. I’m firing up to protest to the first option when Lily interjects. “Count it as my donation to Ivy.”

  Ivy. She must be someone special. Everywhere I drop her name or others use it, people are giving her things. Twelve large boxes rest on the display counter, which means Lily allowed our kiss to progress for as long as she could before she interrupted us. I flush again with the thought while Hank takes a stack of boxes out to his SUV.

  “Sorry about that,” I mutter, pointing toward the window.

  Lily pffts me. “I’m so happy Hank has a girlfriend. How long you two been together?”

  “Oh, I’m not—”

  “Not long enough,” Hank interjects. I hadn’t noticed he returned inside the bakery. “And I’ve been waiting too long for her.”

  The words sound like the lyrics from a song, but I can’t place the tune. My heart sings its own melody at the moment. A dangerous ballad which will lead to nothing.

  6

  Icing on the cake

  [Hank]

  “You want to tap that, don’t you?” I turn to Tommy as I unload a tower of cupcake boxes from the back of Brut’s SUV. Thankfully, Midge stands a few feet away and doesn’t hear him.

  “Dude,” I groan. “Lower your voice. We aren’t fifteen. Show some respect.” Tommy’s brow rises as his lip twitches.

  “Oh, I recognize that look.” The intensity of his dark eyes holds me.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “I do. I wore the same look about a year ago, and lucky me, look where it got me.” His head swivels toward his wife.

  “You’re out of your mind.” I’m not getting married. There was only one woman for me, and she didn’t want my proposal. Besides, I only kissed Midge. I didn’t ask her to marry me.

  The thought makes me stop because I did kiss her, and she was sweet in an untapped kind of way. In a—she could be wild, might want to be wild—if she only knew how sort of way. I remember seeing it in her eyes in Tommy’s bathroom. She would have given herself to me had Stephie not interrupted us.

  My gaze drifts to Midge as she stands deep in discussion with Edie. I twist back to pick up the second pile of boxes.

  “Whatever you do, stay away from that thing.” I look up and follow Tommy’s line of direction. His eyes seem focused on Midge’s short, stretchy skirt. I narrow my glare at him, not liking his implication.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “That thing. It’s a chick thing, and it’s complicated as fuck to get into.” My brows pinch, and I turn back to Midge.

  “Are you talking about her skirt?”

  “Skort, man. Whoever invented it was not a guy. It’s like shorts attached to a skirt. Sexy as fuck but hard to get into. Just get her out of it first.”

  Holy shit. “Tommy, man.” I groan followed by a deep laugh. He’s still the same guy he always was even if he’s attached to one woman.

  “Why aren’t you participating?” I ask, hoping to shift the subject far away from getting into Midge’s pants, or skort, or whatever the fuck. Since the moment her mouth touched mine, it’s all I can think about anyway. I need more than a sample of icing. I want the whole cake.

  “I don’t partake in structured athletics,” he jest
s. He’s an avid runner, and by the size of his body, I know he purposely keeps in shape.

  “You like yoga,” Edie adds as we near the women.

  “Only with you, darlin’.” Her face brightens, and I don’t even want to know what Tommy’s referencing.

  + + +

  Hours pass. The 5K ends. Kids celebrate the victory of money raised for a good cause. Ivy cries with the attention given to her school and her students, and I search for Midge every chance I get, feeling shaky whenever she’s out of my sight. She didn’t say a thing about kissing me on our ride back in the SUV. She chattered about the cupcakes, learned Brut was my brother, and rattled on about the fundraiser, but she didn’t mention our kiss. She’s deflecting, and while I thought I was fine with her ignoring what happened, as the time ticks by, I find I want her to address it. I want her to own it. I want her to give me another taste.

  When I see her heading toward the school entrance, which is actually an old, renovated church, I follow. I lose sight of her inside the building, but then notice the swing of a bathroom door. Stepping inside the ladies’ room, I turn the lock. Midge stands before a singular porcelain sink, her hands balanced on the edges.

  “We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” I tease, but she closes her eyes.

  “I just needed a minute.” I don’t know if it’s a hint to leave, but I have no desire to separate from her. Not liking our distance, I step forward to stand behind her. It’s similar to our first meeting, though the space isn’t quite as intimate. Daylight streams through the etched windows, and the fluorescent light isn’t the same as the glow of a candle.

  “Talk to me,” I murmur, reminiscent of what I say on the crisis hotline.

  “I can’t believe I pulled this off. I’ve been so stressed out about it. I just wanted it to be right for Ronin.” Ronin? One of her boys, right? I nod, meeting her eyes in the reflective glass. “He’s…he’s so complicated. Sweet Jesus, forgive me, but he’s the one I just can’t connect with sometimes.” I knew what she meant. Once upon a time, it was the same for me. I’d been the one my father couldn’t understand. A rock band hadn’t been his dream for his youngest son. “But I’m trying. I want to be there for him.”