by K. Leah
Sighing heavily, I can tell he's enjoying this, but then he puts his hand on my arm giving it a slight squeeze. “Relax, Clara… I’m just teasing you. I know what you meant.”
He uses his thumb to rub circles where he’s holding my arm. I suddenly forget all about how I just embarrassed myself.
“I’m hungry, so what do you say we get out of here and go eat?” he asks.
“Yeah, that would be great.”
We walk back down the hallway, and I grab my purse from the couch as he opens the front door for me. He waits while I lock up and then guides me to his SUV with his hand on my lower back again. He opens the passenger door, and I climb inside. I breathe in as he closes the door behind me. His car even smells like him. So good.
As we drive to the restaurant, we make small talk about our favorite places to eat, and I find we have several in common. I wonder if we have ever run into each other before and not even known it. I can’t imagine that I wouldn't pay attention to this hunk of handsomeness if Brady ever crossed my path.
We arrive at a restaurant just outside of town. It’s in a quaint little spot in downtown Mt. Holly. The hostess seats us at a table in the corner. The lighting is dim, and it creates the perfect romantic atmosphere. If you Googled pictures of romantic restaurants, this one would be included on that list.
A white tablecloth lines each table, and a red napkin adorns each plate with a stemmed wine glass above it. In the middle of each table, a floating candle sits atop a mirrored circle, completing the look.
“This place is… wow,” I tell him as I look around.
He smiles and pulls out my chair for me, sliding it back under the table when I sit.
“So, you like it?” he asks.
“If the food is half as nice as the atmosphere, then yes. Definitely yes.”
“I assure you the food is even better.”
“How did you find this place?” I ask. I never think about eating anywhere other than Charlotte, unless I’m out of town. There are so many restaurants close by to choose from that I don’t venture out much.
“I had training here a few years ago. When we finished one evening someone suggested we try out the place. So we did. I come here about once a month even if I’m not in town for business. It’s worth the drive.”
“So what’s good to eat here?” I ask. I look through the menu, and there is so much to choose from I don’t even know where to start.
“My favorite dish is the fettuccine alfredo. The scampi dishes are also good and of course the pizza. It’s all good. I don’t think you can go wrong with any of it.”
Well, that helps none. Scanning the menu, I try to hurry and decide as the waitress approaches to take our order. After she leaves, Brady props his elbows on the table and leans closer to me.
“So, tell me more about Clara Willet.”
“What would you like to know?” I ask playfully.
He comes back with a quick wit comment. “Everything. Start with your birth.”
Laughing, I lean into to the table as well. “Well, I don’t remember my birth, so I'll have to omit that part. Sorry. Let's see...I’ve already told you I’m from Virginia.” Pausing to think about what else I could tell him, I draw a blank.
“How many brothers and sisters do you have?” Brady asks.
“None… I’m an only child.”
“Really?” He looks surprised.
“Yep,” I tell him. “Just me and my mom and dad.”
“Did your parents not want any more children?” he asks.
“They did. My mom had some health issues in her twenties. Not long after she had me, her doctor advised her not to have any more children. It would probably have been a matter of life or death if she had. So, they stopped with me. I think they wanted at least one more child, but they never really said much about it while I was growing up.”
“Interesting,” Brady says quizzically. “So how was that for you growing up?”
“I didn’t mind it. I never thought much about it until I got older. It was always just me, and I was fine with that. I had plenty of friends growing up and spent my fair share of time with them. When I went to college and started hearing all my friends talking about brothers and sisters, and the relationships they had, I started realizing what I was missing, you know. It makes me a little sad that I’ll never experience the bond only siblings can share. But, it is what it is. So....” I decide to turn the attention on him, “What about you?”
“I’ve got an older brother and a younger sister. My brother is only two years older than I am, but my sister is six years younger. They both still live near my parents,” he says.
I find myself wondering about his family. Do they look like each other? Does he take after his dad or his mom?
“Where is home?” I ask.
“Here in Charlotte. Huntersville. My parents moved across town after all the kids were out of the house.”
“Do your siblings live here too?”
“My brother, Cole, lives in Mooresville with his wife and two teenage girls. Oh, the drama in that house,” he laughs, shaking his head.
“Yeah, I can only imagine,” I tell him.
“Reagan, my sister, lives about two miles from my parents’ house…she's also married, with a baby girl. My niece is almost two, and the cutest little thing you’ve ever seen, with a head full of blonde curls.” Brady smiles while he’s talking about his siblings and nieces. I can see the affection he holds for them, and I can assume they have a good relationship.
“So, back to you… let’s not get distracted,” he says. “What’s your full name and when’s your birthday?”
“Oh gosh…” I sigh. “My full name. Ugh. I think it was a punishment from my parents. It’s not that I hate my name, it’s just that I’ve always felt it was so old-fashioned. I’m named after my grandmothers. My dad’s mom was May… that’s my middle name… and my mom’s maiden name is Clary, so they girlie-fied it, and that’s how I got stuck with Clara May.” Burying my head in my hand, I say, “Grandma name, I know.”
“Well, I happen to like it, Clara May. I think it’s beautiful, and it has a story to tell,” he says lightheartedly.
“Blech. I feel like an old maid with this name. I’ve always considered it an omen that I would never get married and be stuck with the name Clara May Willet my entire life. And, here I am, approaching 40 years old, and still not married. It’s a jinxed name; I feel sure.”
Brady furrows his eyebrows, “Why would your name have anything to do with you not being married right now?
“Clara May?” I say sarcastically. “It a little old maid’s name. Not to mention the fact that I’m not getting any younger. Past prime age for most guys.”
“I take it you've never been married before, then?” he asks.
“Nope. Just me, myself and I,” I remark. “Anyway, I’m married to my job, remember?”
Brady shakes his head and breathes out a frustrated sigh. “Clara, please don’t ever think that of yourself. Age has nothing to do with it. Look at me! I’m also approaching 40. I only have two more years before I face the back side of that proverbial hill."
“Are you 38?” I ask.
“Yep,” he responds.
“Me too! That’s crazy we are the same age.” I’m curious now if he’s ever been married before. He asked me, so surely that opens up the door for me to ask him. I decide to go for it.
“So, have you been married before?”
He pauses a moment, looking down into his lap. I’m not sure what he’s thinking, but there is a long moment of silence before his eyes look up to meet mine. There's a deep sadness there, and suddenly I regret asking the question and quickly retract it. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked that.”
“No… don’t be. It’s fine,” he says waving his hand. Another pause rests between us, so I fiddle with my hands in my lap until he speaks again. He finally lets out a long sigh. “Yes, I have been married before. My wife died ten years ago.”
Brady stops me right away. “It’s okay. You have every right to ask. And, I will have to say that even after all this time it’s still a hard subject to discuss. Everyone gives you a pitiful look, and that brings back all the hurt and pain from the past, so I don’t talk about it.”
Oh no… here I am doing the same thing. “I… I didn’t mean…”
Brady cuts me off again, and grabs my hand with both of his, looking at me intently. “No, Clara, it’s really fine. Please don’t feel bad for me, or for asking that question. At some point, I will tell you about it…about her, but right now…” he pauses and leans in closer to me over the table and pulls my hand closer to him. “I don’t want to tarnish our first date talking about that part of my past. This night is about you and me getting to know each other. That part of my life I will share with you someday, just not tonight. Okay?”
As much as I want to know what happened to her, I need to respect his wishes and let this go. Despite the subject matter, I can’t ignore the fact that he referenced a 'someday' with me, which excites me. Then I feel guilty for getting excited.
“Okay,” I tell him.
He takes a deep cleansing breath and smiles, squeezing my hand once more.
“Tell me more about you. What brought you to a small, private college in North Carolina?”
It is such a quick change of pace; it takes me a few seconds to get my brain out of shock mode and back into conversation mode. Clearing my throat, I answer him. “My dad went to SSU; a family tradition I guess.”
“Oh, that’s pretty cool! Are there any more generations in your family linked to that school?” he asks.
“No, he and I are the only ones. When I was a little kid, my family always went back for Homecoming in the fall. My dad would meet up with a bunch of his buddies, and we would hang around campus the whole weekend. They make a pretty big event of Homecoming there, and it was something I always looked forward to every year. Then, when I was a teenager, I went to youth camp there one summer, and that just confirmed it for me. I applied, got accepted, and there you go.”
“Huh. That’s interesting,” he says. “So why did you end up staying there after graduation? I mean, being from a bigger city, why would you want to stay in a small town?”
“I went to grad school there too. Plus, I’ve never really been a big city kinda girl,” I shrug. “Obviously, I live in a big city now, but if it were up to me, I’d live in the middle of the country with nothing but land surrounding me.”
Brady’s eyes stay focused on me, and he has a pleased smile on his face. I think there has been enough conversation about me, and I’m ready to learn more about him.
“So now it’s your turn. Tell me everything there is to know about you. Most importantly, were you a Tar Heel fan growing up and as a result, always wanted to go to your dream school?”
“Yeah, that’s pretty much spot on. Around here, you have North Carolina divided… Duke, NC State, and Carolina. You are usually a big fan of one of the three, and you despise the other two.” He’s serious, and I can also tell he’s probably a die-hard Carolina fan. I can't help but snicker a little.
“Growing up was your room always decked out in UNC from wall to wall?” I joke. He tries to hide a smile and raises his finger in the air. “And floor to ceiling. That would be me. I even had a UNC ceiling fan in my room.”
“Seriously? You are kidding, right?”
Shaking his head, “Sadly… no. I think every piece of clothing I owned was some version of gray, light blue, navy or white and they all had some UNC symbol or Tar Heel on them.”
I’m full on belly laughing at this point. Brady is really a die-hard fan.
“Does your bedroom still have Carolina décor in it?” I laugh.
“Not anymore. I found out my first year of college that it’s not cool to decorate your dorm room at UNC in UNC memorabilia. The guys made fun of me my entire first semester, so I packed it all up and asked for green plaid bedding for Christmas that year.”
I’m still laughing at his admittance. “That’s too funny! I’ve heard all the fan stereotypes, but I’ve never met one who is that dedicated to their team. Do you yell at the TV when the games are on?”
“I’m not too bad. My dad and brother do enough of that for the whole neighborhood to hear,” he says shaking his head.
“Were you a business major in school?” I ask him.
“Finance. Ironically, I never had any intention of going into banking until my internship my senior year. I started with BOA and never left.”
“Do you like what you do?” I ask.
“For the most part, yes. I get to meet a lot of people, I’m pretty good at selling stuff, and the job pays well. I can’t complain," he shrugs. Then, looking at me he asks, "You said you are leaving again tomorrow, right?”
Sighing heavily, and dreading yet another trip, I respond, “Yes. Yes, I am.”
He can obviously hear the frustration in my voice. “I’m guessing you are not looking forward to this trip,” he asks.
“Not really. I’m tired of traveling all of the time. I’m so ready for that 8 to 5 desk job now.”
“Yeah, I remember you saying that before,” he says. “Is that even a possibility with your company for the future?”
“Eh, maybe. Who knows? The CEO likes me, and because he likes me, he’s always telling new clients ‘I’ll send you my best consultant.’ As soon as he says it, I pretty much have a plane ticket purchased whether I want it or not.”
The more I think about that statement, the more I contemplate sitting down with my boss and telling him I’m ready for something different. I’ve paid my dues, and I think I deserve a return on my investment. Maybe I can switch over to training, and I’ll be the lead advisor for these projects. I silently mull over the possibility.
The waitress appears at our table with our food bringing my mind back to the present. I watch as she places each plate in front of us. The food smells amazing, and I can't wait to dig into this meal. Brady thanks the waitress as she refills our drinks.
Once she leaves, Brady looks at me. “This looks great,” he states.
“Mmmm… yes, it does,” I say, hearing my stomach rumble. I take the first bite. “Oh my gosh… this… this… is just… mmmm,” I say as I enjoy the flavor explosion in my mouth.
Brady raises his eyebrows and asks, “You want to try a bite of mine?”
“I would love to because yours looks even better than mine,” I say, eyeing his food.
Brady scoops a bite onto his fork, making sure to get a little bit of everything in the dish. He extends his arm across the table, and I realize he’s going to feed me rather than hand me the fork or offer his plate. I’m suddenly very turned on by this gesture. I lean into the table and slowly take the bite from him.
“Ohmygosh… mmmm….” I say again, closing my eyes and savoring the flavor swirling around my mouth. When I open my eyes, Brady is staring at me with an intense expression.
“What? Do I have some on my mouth?” I ask him, reaching for my napkin. He shakes his head no; dark brown eyes glued to my mouth. I grow self-conscious. Maybe I do have something on my face. I grab my napkin to wipe my mouth anyway.
Brady places the fork back onto his plate. His eyes are darting between mine and my mouth, and then it hits me, and I think, oh. I have this sudden urge to kiss him. Like the kind of kiss where I reach across the table and pull his shirt toward me and engulf his lips with my own.
My mouth tips up at the corner, because I know he’s thinking the same thing I am. Now is not the right time or place for devouring each other, so we continue our meals in silence for a few moments. When I glance back up at him, I see a satisfied smile on his face - one that matches my own.
Finally, Brady breaks the silence. “What do you want to do
after we leave here?” he asks. “Did you have anything in mind?
Duh...yes I have something in mind. After fantasizing about kissing him, I have the urge to skip the rest of dinner and take Brady straight home. I dig deep for a little restraint; after all, this is only our first date.
Whew. I need some fresh air.
“I’m up for anything,” I say.
“Good. I was hoping this would go well enough that you wouldn't want me to rush you home and skip dessert,” he smirks.
“Did you have that little faith in me?” I ask him, slightly offended, but bubbly enough to joke about it.
“It wasn’t you I doubted,” Brady says with a chuckle. “It was me. I was hoping I wouldn't screw this up tonight." He pauses and takes a more serious tone. "It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a date.”
“Same here, so no worries. I’m having a great time, Brady.” I assure him.
“Me too,” he says, reaching across the table to take my hand in his. He slowly traces the edge of my hand with his fingers. Electric sparks radiate through my arm, and a small gasp escapes my mouth. It’s like our bodies are telling each other something. His eyes widen when they meet mine, and I can tell he felt it too.
“Do you feel that?” I ask in a whisper because I need to know if this is real.
He nods his head, “Every time.” His comment sends chills down my spine to go along with the slight sting of electricity flowing through my veins.
“You ready to get out of here?” he asks. “I have someplace else I want to take you.”
“Yes, I would love to,” I respond, and we both stand to leave. Brady lays some money on the table for our meal and grabs my hand. This time fireworks are exploding between our intertwined fingers. I love the feel of my hand in his. He opens the door for me but doesn’t let go of my hand until he helps me into the passenger seat of his SUV. We don’t ruin the moment by exchanging words; none are really needed.
22
It’s More Than Just a Kiss
