Let Me In

by Parker, Ali

  “Penny for your thoughts?” he said after a while.

  I smiled and looked down at where my hand was still resting on his arm. “They aren’t worth a penny. It was just random thoughts.”

  “You look beat,” he said.

  I smiled. “Thanks. That’s exactly what every girl wants to hear.”

  “You are still beautiful, but you need some sleep.”

  He was right. “I am exhausted,” I admitted.

  “Let me take you home,” he offered.

  I was so glad I decided to Uber to the party. I could admit part of me was hoping to go home with him or take him home with me. It was a small part. I was glad the larger part of my brain knew better. It was too risky to go home with him or vice versa. The boat was one thing. If he was in my space, it would be much harder to forget about him.

  I needed to keep him at arm’s length. At least for now. I wanted to know him better. Then I would know how to move forward, with or without him in my life.

  Chapter 17

  Xander

  I parked my car in the lot of the IHOP where Evie wanted to meet. It was packed, as expected on a Sunday morning. The hostess knew exactly who I was asking about when I described Evie and led me directly to her table. Every time I saw the woman, I was taken aback by her beauty. Her hair was piled on top of her head with little black curly strands hanging loose. She had on another one of those blouses with shoulder cutouts and looked absolutely beautiful.

  “Good morning,” she greeted with a bright smile.

  “Good morning,” I said and took my seat at the table. “Coffee, please,” I said to the hostess who was waiting to hear my drink order.

  “I wasn’t sure you would make it,” she said, taking a sip of her own coffee.

  “I got hung up on a phone call. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I was early. I’m always early.”

  “And I am almost always late,” I replied.

  “I’m glad you showed up,” she commented. “Otherwise, I would be eating a lot. I took the liberty of ordering you breakfast. I hope you don’t mind?”

  I raised my eyebrows. “You ordered my breakfast?”

  “I ordered big, just in case. Are you much of a breakfast eater?”

  “I can be,” I answered. I wasn’t sure how I felt about her ordering for me. I wasn’t used to being controlled. I supposed it wasn’t really control, but I got the idea she was used to things being done her way. That could be an issue.

  “I’m sorry,” she blurted out.

  “For?”

  “I shouldn’t have ordered for you. I order for my dad all the time and Nelle. I get this idea in my head that I can read people better than they can read themselves. I was looking at the time and just thought it would be more efficient if I ordered since I was already here.” She looked flustered and was rambling.

  “Hey, it’s cool,” I said. “I don’t think you can go wrong with breakfast. It took me by surprise. That’s it.”

  “Are you sure? We can always ask the waitress to stop the order.”

  I offered her a smile. “I’m sure. I’ll be surprised when it shows up. I am hungry and now I don’t have to wait as long.”

  She breathed a sigh of relief. “I won’t do it again.”

  “Maybe you do know me better than I know myself,” I said. “Maybe you ordered me something I normally wouldn’t have, and I’ll love it.”

  “I hope so,” she said and took a deep breath.

  “What are we doing today?” I questioned.

  She grinned. “I have it all planned.”

  “You are truly a planner, right down to your very core.”

  She grimaced. “I am. I plan every minute practically. I use calendars and lists and apps to keep me on schedule. I like to know what I am going to be doing on a given day. I like to know where I should be and what comes next.”

  That sounded a little intense for me. “Not me,” I told her. “Definitely not me.”

  “I suppose you are the type that wakes up and just goes with the flow?”

  I shrugged. “Not quite that loose, but yes. I don’t know what’s on my schedule for next week.”

  “Do you have an assistant who keeps you on track?”

  “I do,” I admitted. “She mostly sets up the appointments and shoots me a text when I have a phone conference or something. Most of my days are spent going with the flow. I don’t plan.”

  She visibly shuddered. “I guess you could say I am very Type A. I think I would have a nervous breakdown if I didn’t have a schedule.”

  “Do you color code charts and stuff?” I asked, half-joking.

  “Not anymore.”

  “Wow.”

  “I can be a little neurotic. I know it. I try to lighten up, and I think I have a little more over the last couple years, but I get very anxious when I don’t know what’s coming next.”

  “I’ve met people like that before.”

  She burst into laughter. “You make it sound like we are zoo animals or something.”

  I grinned. “It would be interesting to see you in action. How do you know when you are going to have fun? Don’t you like spur of the moment stuff?”

  “I’m not wound that tight,” she joked. “I do things all the time that are not otherwise scheduled. I have to have some flexibility in my day to handle all those little emergencies that arise. It’s more about I know when I’m going to be at work and what I’m going to be doing for the day. I know what needs to happen on a given day. I don’t go to bed or leave work until the tasks that I have outlined for the day are done.”

  “Were you born like that?” I asked, genuinely curious. “I ask because my dad is that way. We did have color-coded charts. Our chores, our classes, everything was plastered on a chart for us to look at every fucking day.”

  She grimaced and shook her head. “I have been like this for as long as I can remember. I cannot imagine being a kid and having that thrust on me.”

  “He liked order. No, that’s not accurate. He demanded order. Things were scheduled right down to when we could shower. I’m surprised he didn’t tell us when we could take a shit.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I realized that was a pretty dumb thing to say. “I’m sorry. That was crass.”

  “I get it. That would have been very difficult to deal with. I don’t think I’m that strict. I craved organization when I was younger because my world was chaotic. It was the only thing I had any control over.”

  “Why was your world chaotic?”

  She sipped her coffee. I did the same, waiting for her to explain. The waitress delivered heaping plates of food, including a stack of pancakes for each of us. It was a lot of food. I wasn’t a huge breakfast eater, but it looked good.

  She took a bite of bacon and then put it down. “My mom died in an accident when I was very young. It kind of turned our worlds upside down. My dad, bless his heart, he tried so hard. I could see him struggling to keep our little household running. I think I was already planning dinners by the time I was five.”

  “You’re joking? Not about your mom. That’s awful. Were you really making dinner at five?”

  She smiled. “No, not usually. Every night my dad would ask me what I wanted for dinner. I started to pick up on the fact it stressed him out when he didn’t know what to make. I wanted to make things easier for him. I didn’t write, but I remembered I would spend my day with a babysitter or at school and think about what I wanted for dinner. When he asked, I would have an answer.”

  I was amazed. “Wow. That’s young to pick up on that.”

  She shrugged. “My dad worked hard, and I wanted to do my part. My mom used to let me help her in the kitchen a lot, so I had a pretty good understanding of meals and cooking.”

  “I don’t know if I should feel proud and impressed or really sad for you,” I told her.

  “Don’t be sad. We all have our little hardships. I had mine. I got through it by figuring out how to make things e
asier. As I got older, I began to see how much easier our lives were when I knew what was coming. I took over meal planning and made grocery lists until I was old enough to do it on my own. I liked being able to help ease the burden on my dad.”

  I felt like an asshole for complaining about my childhood. She had it much worse. She had lived through the loss of her mother and endured a lot of struggles and was still a happy person. I really felt like a self-absorbed prick for being the way I was. In the grand scheme of things, I had it good. “You’re amazing.”

  “What about you? Did your dad demand you be the man of the house and that kind of thing?”

  I laughed. “Not really. He didn’t deploy often. He was always around. He made it very clear it was his house, his rules. We either fell in line or got out. My mom was kind and gentle. She always had a hot meal on the table and made sure we knew we were loved, even if my dad couldn’t say it or show it.”

  That seemed to make her happy. I felt like I knew her so much better now, with one small conversation. We ate our breakfast, talking about the weather and different events happening around the city. The trip down Memory Lane to our past was enough. I wasn’t interested in reliving those days and I doubted she wanted to either.

  “What kind of fun do you have planned for the day?” I asked her.

  She wrinkled her nose. “I think I mismanaged our time.”

  “How so? Do you need to postpone our day of fun?”

  “No, I have grand plans to make you smile and laugh and maybe even yell.”

  I leaned forward. “If you are talking about another trip out on the boat, I’m up for it. I will yell as loud as you want.”

  Her cheeks stained red. “Not that,” she said with a smile. “Something wilder.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Really? I’m game.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You are such a man.”

  “I’m not going to take that as an insult.”

  It was her turn to lean forward. “I want to hear you scream.”

  “I thought you were the one who was supposed to scream.”

  “Oh, I’ll scream all right. I usually do.”

  I was growing harder by the second just thinking about getting her naked again. I didn’t plan on a day of sex, but in the grand scheme of things, it was probably about the best way to spend a day. “My place?”

  “You are bad,” she said with a grin.

  “I can be anything you want.”

  “Stop, you are making me blush,” she hissed.

  “You are making me hard.”

  She closed her eyes and shook her head. “You are killing me.”

  “Do you want to reach under the table and feel what you are doing to me?”

  She waved a hand, as if she was swatting at me. “What has gotten into you?”

  “It’s more like what I want to get into you.”

  Her mouth fell open. “We better go, or we are going to end up embarrassing ourselves in the bathroom.”

  “I wouldn’t be embarrassed,” I told her.

  “Let’s go,” she said, and for a brief second, I thought she meant to the bathroom. When she headed for the door, I was more than happy to follow the woman wherever she led me. I quickly paid the bill and followed her outside.

  “Well? Where to?” I looked up and down the road. “There’s a hotel.”

  She slapped at my arm. “We are not going to a hotel. I have other plans.”

  I groaned. “But you’ve kind of got me in a bad way here.”

  “Take a deep breath and then release slowly. That’s what I did. I’m feeling much better.”

  “I know exactly what will make me feel better,” I told her.

  “Come on, mister. We’ll take my car.”

  “To your place?” I teased, knowing it was off the table. I had to try though.

  “To Belmont Park,” she announced.

  I stopped walking. “What? Really? You want me to ride rollercoasters?”

  “Yep and other things,” she said with a playful smile.

  I caught up to her and leaned down to whisper close to her. “You? You want me to ride you?”

  Her answer was a sharp intake of breath. I had never been the kind of guy that flirted and talked like that. With her, I didn’t feel like I had to hide what I wanted. I wanted her. I felt safe talking like that with her because I knew she knew I was playing. She wasn’t going to ask or expect anything more from me. It was freeing.

  Chapter 18

  Evie

  My stomach felt funny. It had nothing to do with the breakfast. It was him. He made me feel all wet and gooey. He’d been so flirtatious. It was fun. With any other man, I probably would have dumped my orange juice in his lap. With him, I wanted to climb onto the table and beg him to have his way with me.

  “I’m paying,” he insisted when we got to the ticket booth.

  “No, this is my idea.”

  “I’m paying,” he said again and left zero room for argument. He handed a credit card over and bought the passes that gave us unlimited rides.

  “I was thinking we could visit some of the attractions first. Let our breakfast settle a bit before we go on anything that will give us the milkshake treatment.”

  He smirked. “Yeah, I’m not sure why we had a big breakfast if this is what you had in mind.”

  “Because there is plenty to see and explore while we let our breakfasts settle,” I told him. “I suppose I should have asked if you were afraid of heights?”

  He gave me a look. “I’m not afraid of heights.”

  “What about rollercoasters?”

  He shrugged. “It’s been a while since I got turned upside down, but I’m not afraid of the things.”

  “Good, because I love rollercoasters.”

  He didn’t look like he shared that same opinion, but I was hoping he would have fun. It was a risk to bring a grown man to a theme park, especially one that was so serious. We spent the next hour and a half roaming the park and checking out the many attractions. I felt like my stomach was ready for a rollercoaster.

  “Are you serious about this?” he asked when we got in line.

  “Are you backing out on me?” I teased.

  He slowly shook his head. “Nope.”

  When it was our turn, we climbed into our seats and waited to be locked in. He seemed nervous. It was strange to see a big, burly man like him nervous. “All good?” I asked.

  “Evie, I’m fine.”

  I wondered if it was possible to truly not enjoy a rollercoaster. The element of fear was what made it exciting. When the ride started to move, I looked over at him. He looked as if he were sitting in the backseat of a taxi. There was zero emotion. He didn’t look scared, but he also didn’t look like he was enjoying himself. I was not ready to give up on him yet.

  When the ride was over, with very little reaction from him, I decided to up the ante. “How about the big one?” I asked.

  He looked at me. “I’m not sure you can handle another one.”

  “Oh, I can handle it. I’m just getting started.”

  He smiled and shrugged. “Okay. But if you are going to toss your cookies, you have to aim the other way.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I am not going to toss my cookies.”

  It was several rides later before the man started to thaw a bit and let himself go. He seemed to be enjoying himself and was having a good time. “I think you broke my eardrums on that one,” he commented as we walked away from the coaster.

  I laughed. “That one gets me. I can handle being upside down, but backwards kind of freaks me out.”

  He put an arm around my shoulders. “That was fun.”

  “Finally,” I said. “I thought I was going to have to take you to the hospital and have them check your pulse.”

  “I could use something to drink,” he said. “How about you?”

  “Absolutely. All that screaming has left me a little parched.”

  He flinched, inhaling a sharp breath through his nos
e. I knew exactly what he was thinking. Sex. The man had sex on the brain. It made me feel sexy and wanted. Definitely not something I was used to feeling. We made our way to one of the little shops outdoors and ordered a couple of root beer floats before finding a place to sit.

  “This was fun,” he finally agreed.

  “Good. I was beginning to worry a little. Have you been here before?”

  “Yes, a few times when I was much younger. My mom would bring me and my brother here on occasion. We didn’t usually ride all the rollercoasters in one visit though.”

  I smiled. “You bought the full-day pass. Can’t let it go to waste.”

  “What about you? Is this somewhere you spent a lot of time with your dad?”

  I slowly nodded. “It is. Usually on the weekends. He would bring me here for a ride or two and then we always got a corndog followed by an ice cream.”

  “I bet those are some fond memories.”

  “Aren’t your memories fond?” I questioned.

  He shrugged. “I guess. Usually, my mom would bring us here when my dad deployed. She said it was to take our mind off what was happening, but I think it was really for her.”

  “I imagine it would be hard to be a military wife.”

  “I think the hard part was him being who he was,” he said. “They were married for more than thirty years, but I never got the feeling they really loved one another. They didn’t act like it.”

  “I think some people are just like that,” I mused.

  “Were your parents?”

  I slowly shook my head. “I don’t know. I don’t really remember. My dad never remarried, so I am guessing he loved her a lot. He changed after she died. That, I do remember. He didn’t laugh as much, and he didn’t smile as much.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said in a soft voice. “I lost my mom about five years ago. I can’t imagine losing a mom at that young age. We weren’t exactly close, but it was a loss.”