Start Me Up

by Nicole Michaels

  Next was the cherry, a little tangy for her taste, but the crust was yummy, almost like a sugar cookie. She moved on to the French silk, saving it for last because she knew she would love it. What was not to love about rich chocolate mousse and a creamy topping?

  Once the smooth filling hit her mouth she moaned, her eyes flitting shut. She leaned on her thighs, letting her fork dangle in front of her. “God, that one is complete heaven.”

  “You’re a sexy eater, Perfect.” She looked up to find Mike still staring at her, his fork lax in his hands. It was darker now, so he’d removed his sunglasses and turned his hat around backward.

  “Oh my gosh, how embarrassing. You were supposed to be eating, too.”

  “I was until I realized watching you was a lot more enjoyable. Sit up.”

  She did as he asked and he grabbed her thigh, shifting her to face him a little. He picked up his own fork and loaded it with another bite of the French silk before he held it up to her lips.

  “What are you doing?” She couldn’t help smiling.

  “I’m feeding you. Now open up.”

  Anne parted her lips and watched his eyes take in the movement as he slid the fork into her mouth. She willed herself not to be self-conscious about eating for a man, because it was incredibly erotic knowing that he liked it. And all she had to do was glance down to be completely sure.

  His lips slid slowly into a wicked grin and he adjusted his shirt to cover the noticeable tent between his legs. They both started laughing and before Anne knew it he was setting the fork down and putting his hand behind her neck, pulling her in, pressing his lips to hers. The taste of cherries and chocolate mixed as their tongues met over and over. She lifted her hand to his shoulder, the firmness of his muscles reminding her of how incredibly perfect he was. She realized she hadn’t seen him without a shirt yet, and suddenly she was dying to.

  A low groan came from Mike’s throat as he licked at her bottom lip. “I want to feast on you, Anne,” he mumbled against her mouth and kissed her cheek, then her jaw. She loved him calling her Perfect, but she loved her name on his lips even more. It told her he knew exactly who she was, it wasn’t a dream, and he hadn’t made a mistake. He wanted her, Anne Edmond, thirty-two-year-old single mother. He thought she was perfect and sexy, and she would cherish this time with him, let him give her memories that would last her forever. Maybe it would be enough.

  Her eyes shut as his hand lifted up to cup her jaw. He gave her a small smile and they finished the pie, discussing what they liked about each one. After he lifted the final bite of French silk to her lips, he tossed the plate and napkins in a trash bin near their seat. “You ready to go? The car judging should be over by now.”

  “Yes, I’m just going to go to the restroom real quick since we have a good drive ahead of us.”

  “Okay, there’s a convenience store across the street. I’ll walk over with you.”

  “No, no. You wait here. I’ll be right back. It’s close.”

  She stood up and grabbed her purse off the ground before she ran into the Casey’s gas station across the street from the square. There was a small line, but she got in and out of the small store and made her way back toward the crowd. The night had brought out a louder, younger group, and she jumped when a hand closed over her arm. She expected it to be Mike, but she turned to find two women.

  “Sorry to startle you, Are you My Perfect Little Life Anne?”

  “Oh gosh, yes, I am. Hi!” This had happened several times in the past, and it never ceased to amaze Anne and make her blush. She was no celebrity, but she did have a following. Thanks to her newspaper column and some local magazine coverage, some readers now knew she lived in the area and recognized her. She was always surprised to find how much people felt like they really knew her. Like they were friends. It was sweet … albeit a tiny bit awkward.

  “See, I told you it was her. I’m Cecille, known as beezlebub379 in the comments, and this is my daughter-in-law Patty, or Pattypie.” They both beamed, and Anne collected herself quickly.

  “Of course, it’s so nice to meet you both. I recognize both of your screen names, you’ve been readers for a long time. That means a lot.”

  “Since nearly the beginning,” Patty said with a grin. “We adore the blog. Is Bug with you?” The woman glanced past Anne.

  “No, I’m sorry, she’s not. What a small world. Do you live here in Green Mound?”

  Sure enough they did, and Anne chatted briefly with them. She glanced around, hoping Mike was nowhere near enough to overhear the conversation. How embarrassing to have to explain.

  “You should come by and try Patty’s cherry pie. It wins blue ribbons, and she just started using an adaptation of Callie’s Perfect Crust.”

  “Oh, I think I did … the cherry you said? The crust was my very favorite.” Patty grinned and gave her thanks as Anne kept up the nervous glances from side to side. “I’m so sorry, I do need to run, but I’m so glad you stopped me because it was so, so nice to meet you both. I’ll tell Callie you love the piecrust. She’ll be thrilled.”

  She tried to graciously run off and turned around to instead run right into Mike. “Oh, hi.”

  “Hi. Who was that?”

  “Oh.” Anne swiped some hair out of her face. How did you admit to someone on a first date … Well, I’m kind of special and my blog gets over twenty thousand hits a day. “Just some women who had looked at my site before. We were just chatting for a minute.”

  “They recognized you?”

  “I know, isn’t that weird?” She laughed awkwardly and then scrunched up her nose. She hated that nervous habit.

  “Yeah, that is weird.” He stared at her for a minute, a small smile working at the corner of his mouth. “Must be some site for people to recognize you from it. You sure you’re not famous?”

  Oh God. Her throat nearly closed up, and she stifled a small nervous chuckle. “No, why in the world would you say that? It’s really nothing.” It was silly to try to explain it away; the only good explanation was the truth. But she wasn’t ready to go into that.

  Mike was still grinning when he took her hand again. “Okay then, shall we go?”

  She nodded and took his hand. He led them back through the carnival all the way to the car lots, which were less full than they had been when they arrived, empty parking spots dotted the aisles. It was now fully dark, and the folks lingering were dark shadows. Right now she just wanted to get him home and touch him, kiss him. Do all the things she’d been fantasizing about. She needed to get him out of her system.

  When they found the Chevelle, two blue ribbons were stuck under the windshield wiper.

  “Look at that,” Anne said. “What did you win?”

  He opened the huge metal passenger door, and she stood cradled between it and the interior as he read the ribbon. “Best in Class Chevelle and Best in Class Year. Technically Dave won, not me.”

  “Except you did all the work. That’s amazing.” Anne grabbed the front of Mike’s shirt and pulled him against her. He looked surprised for a second and then wrapped his arms around her waist. “I’m impressed, Uncle Mike.”

  He was quiet for a moment. The dim interior light inside the car just barely lit his handsome face as he lifted a finger and ran it down her cheek. “Are you impressed, Anne?”

  She didn’t know how to respond to that. He suddenly seemed very serious, like he had something on his mind. She swallowed and answered him, her voice coming out in a whisper. “Yes, I am.”

  “Because I’m impressed with you. All of you. Everything. I like … everything about you.”

  He kissed her, thank goodness, because she’d had no idea what to say to his admission. It was as if he didn’t want her to reply. He only wanted to assault her mouth with his lips and his tongue. His fingers dug into her ass and squeezed, pulling her against him, his erection pushing into her lower stomach. His mouth was hot and his lips forceful as his tongue tangled with hers, both of them trying to conquer the ot
her—but she really wanted him to win, she wanted him to lay her down on the bench seat of the Chevelle and strip her naked. She wanted him fully tonight.

  “Come home with me,” she said with her head tilted back as his lips pressed small kisses to her neck. “Please.”

  She felt his chest rumble against her breasts, and he let out a groan before stepping away from her. “Get in, Anne.”

  She stood there for a moment completely confused. When he made his way to the driver’s side and got in, she followed suit. She wanted to hurry back to her place, finally make this happen, because she wanted him so badly.

  She felt him looking at her as she buckled her seat belt, and his silence mixed with his previous comments were making her a little paranoid. “Is something wrong?”

  “No.” A heavy sigh left him, and he started the engine before turning back to her. “It’s just, I want you like crazy, Anne, but you need to know, I’m not sleeping with you tonight.”

  “Okay,” she whispered. Embarrassment swept through her body in a wild rush, then quickly turned to anger. “But why? I thought that’s what we were doing tonight. What was the point of arranging a sleepover for Claire? Also, we didn’t get to finish last time. I want you, and you want me. And who says it’s all up to you anyway?”

  “Let me explain, Anne,” he pleaded, grabbing her hand.

  She sat back against the leather seat and stared out into the night. She wanted to scream or throw a tantrum. Seriously, what the hell was his problem? Their kissing had nearly undone her, and he said he wanted her, but he refused to have sex with her?

  “Things between us … it’s hot, right?” He didn’t wait for a response and she didn’t offer one, but she turned to look into his eyes. He didn’t look angry, he looked like he was as affected as she was. His thumb swept back and forth over her fingers, making it really hard to focus. “It’s been intense, and I want it to linger. I guess. I don’t know. But I don’t want this to be all about the physical. I like you. A lot, and I want to know you, Anne. Is that possible?”

  Her stomach threatened to drop through the floor of the car. What was he saying? He wanted a relationship? This was supposed to be simple, fun, and easy. So why did his words make her happy, confused, and want to cry all at the same time? Because it was entirely possible that the minute he really knew all of her he wouldn’t be quite so impressed. She had a mommy blog, she’d failed at her first marriage, and her stretch marks were noticeable. She was so not perfect.

  “I’m not sure, Mike. I think … I need to think about it.” He swallowed, and she swore his jaw twitched.

  “Okay, you think about it. I’ll be waiting, Perfect.” With that he pulled out and headed out of town and back to Preston.

  Sixteen

  The rest of the weekend had come and gone, it was now Monday and Anne hadn’t heard from Mike. It was killing her. For something that she’d wanted to keep easy, it was taking over all her thoughts. This was far from no-strings-attached because all of her strings were pulled tight and begging for Mike.

  She’d spent the morning sitting on the couch with her laptop loading some photos from Pie Days, typing up a blog post about the small town and the crafts she’d seen there and the cute little pub that carried bottled beer from local towns. Her followers loved stuff like this; within five minutes she had thirty-two comments. She smiled and closed her laptop, only to stare out the front window. Thinking. More thinking. Wasn’t that exactly what she’d told him she needed to do? Maybe he was waiting for her to contact him.

  Clearly she was far from ready for a relationship; she was a mess. I want to know you. His words kept repeating in her head. Why did she feel the need to keep things surface with him? She should share her passion for the blog and her work, let him know how successful they were. It wasn’t something to be ashamed of. It was on a public medium, yet … it felt like revealing something personal and private. It felt like he would know everything about her, have any reason at his disposal to find her lacking, judge her, and end things altogether. And now telling him could be weird because she hadn’t been entirely up front about it from the beginning. She almost just wished he already knew, but it was no surprise that a hot young guy didn’t peruse the Home and Hobby section of the Sunday newspaper or read lifestyle blogs online.

  She knew what people typed into a search engine that landed them on her blog. Things like “DIY princess party,” “how to make paper flowers,” or “easy desserts.” Men didn’t read her blog, well, at least not men like Mike Everett.

  “Grandma Ree’s here.” Claire came bounding down the stairs. “I saw her from my window.”

  “What?” Anne stood up and glanced out to the driveway. Sure enough, her mother’s sedan was sitting there. Anne went to the front door and met her mother on the porch.

  “Hey, Mom, I didn’t know you were planning on stopping by. You should have called. I could have had lunch prepared.”

  “Oh no, honey, I hadn’t planned it, just thought I’d swing by after my doctor appointment.”

  “Well we’re glad you did.”

  Claire ran to her grandmother and wrapped her arms around her thighs. “Hi, Grandma Ree.”

  Anne went to the kitchen to get her mother a glass of tea while she and Claire hugged on the couch. Anne loved how close the two were, and she was grateful that she could give her own daughter the kind of early childhood she’d never had. Those early years were important, they stuck with you even if you couldn’t remember the details you remembered the feeling of being loved. Or the lack of it.

  When Anne returned to the living room her mother was wiping a tear from her eye, and Anne’s heart plunged. All at once she put together the pieces: doctor’s appointment, unexpected visit, the nephrology appointment card she’d completely forgotten to bring up.

  “Claire, why don’t you run up to your room and play?” Anne asked, trying to sound casual.

  “What’s wrong, Grandma Ree?” Claire didn’t let go of her grandmother’s arms.

  “Oh, it’s nothing, Clairebug, I’ll come up and play with you in a minute, okay? Why don’t you get all the Barbies in pretty dresses for us, they’ll have a party when I come up.”

  “But—”

  “Claire, now please,” Anne said, a sharp edge in her voice. She didn’t want to frighten Claire, but Anne needed to know what was going on with her mother immediately. Claire walked slowly up the stairs, looking once over her shoulder. Anne couldn’t blame her daughter; it was disconcerting to see Grandma Ree cry, and she knew that for her to let it slip in front of Claire meant she was struggling.

  “What’s going on, Mom?” Anne set down beside her mother on the couch and handed her a box of tissues. Marie plucked one and swiped under her eyes.

  “It’s my diabetes acting up. No big deal.”

  “Obviously it is a big deal. What do you mean, acting up? Your blood sugar’s too high? What do we need to do, change medicine?” Anne hoped she didn’t sound as panicked as she felt. They’d dealt with the diabetes for years now; as far as she knew her mother was keeping it in check with diet, medication, and insulin when needed.

  “Well, it’s a little more than that, actually.” Marie slumped her shoulders and rested her hands in her lap. She met Anne’s eyes. “The nephrologist says that I’ll probably need to start dialysis within the year.”

  Anne felt sick to her stomach. Her reply came out strangled. “What? How did this happen?”

  “Apparently, it just happens sometimes, no matter how good you are. Anne, I’ve been living with this disease for twenty years. It’s taken its toll on my kidneys.”

  For a moment they were both silent. Anne didn’t want to cry. She knew if she did it would upset her mother, but despite Anne’s wishes, the tears pressed on her eyelids. She took a deep breath and forced them to hold tight. She could cry alone tonight for all the ways she was hurting today.

  “What do we need to do, Mom? Is it reversible?”

  “We could slow it, but ev
entually it will probably need to happen. At that point dialysis is usually just a way to buy some time; eventually I’ll possibly need a new kidney. Or not, I am nearly seventy-two.”

  “No, no, no. Don’t talk like that. You’re still young. You drive, do your own laundry, and cook your own meals. And I need you.” Anne’s eyes were burning again, and this time she couldn’t stop it. One traitorous tear ran down her cheek. “Can’t I give you a kidney? People do that all the time.”

  Marie smiled through her own silent tears. “I don’t think I’m okay with that, Anne. You have an entire life ahead of you and a daughter to raise. I can’t have you risk surgery for me. Plus you’re healthy now—but what if you were diabetic someday? I’m not comfortable with that.”

  “Well, it’s not entirely up to you.”

  Marie’s eyes widened, and she laughed. “Oh, it’s not, is it? Are you going to force me down on an operating table?”

  Anne smiled, but the pain was acute in her chest. “No, but if we can’t get your diet under control, and this dialysis doesn’t help right away, if things get bad, I’m doing it. You hear?” And she meant it. Marie Harris had saved her once; Anne couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t use the opportunity to return the favor.

  “We’ll see, sweetie. Now let’s stop this crying. It’s not happening tomorrow or the next day. The news was just, well, I’m just a little scared, that’s all.” Marie fanned herself with her fingers and then slapped her hands against her thighs. “Now I’m gonna go play with my Clairebug. No more tears.”

  Anne watched her mother walk up the stairs and couldn’t help notice how slow she took it. Marie Harris was getting old, and now she was sick. Her body was failing. It was part of life, but it wasn’t fair. Fate could throw you a curveball in the blink of an eye. The only thing that mattered was the people you cared for and the moments you spent with them now … today.

  Anne grabbed her phone and without thinking it through opened Mike’s contact. She was hurting and scared, and nothing else had seemed more natural than reaching out for him. Shit. She typed out a text and then hesitated for just a moment, her finger hovering over the SEND button. Their conversation from Friday night raced through her mind. I like everything about you, Anne. I want to know you.