by Siera London
Abel, having lost most of his money in legal fees fighting his wife, found himself in the precarious position of starting over. His luck held out as he won several of the races in Endurance, netting a nice profit which enabled him to purchase a good bit of land and build his golf course. Initially, it was nothing more than a putting green, then he added nine holes. The number of people who came each year to play the course increased, along with the frequent Endurance racers that requested memberships. In less than two years, his income rose to the earnings of his old salary, and he added the last nine holes to the course along with a free-standing restaurant and bar. The 19th Hole had become a second home for him and the boy, as well as an office in which he conducted business. Ten years later, Ralph was a senior at UC Endurance, completing his engineering degree.
On occasion, he would teach a class or three at the university, but most of his time was spent piddling about Endurance, looking for ways to improve the small town, and the quality of the artistic events available for the annual race goers to participate. After all, the town may have been small, but they did have some culture. Tomorrow, he planned to take in some of that culture with an attractive young lady on his arm. What magazine did she say she worked for again? Ah yes, Sports Complicated. He turned in his chair and looked it up online.
Locating the webpage, he found Julie’s staff photo. Underneath the picture was an email address. He clicked the blue link which opened an email window. Typing a quick message, he asked her to call because he had tickets to the gala opening at the museum. Checking the message twice, he read over it a third time to ensure there were no innuendos hidden in the text, and clicked send.
“Shit, I forgot to include my phone number,” he mumbled, recalling the message, correcting it, and sending it again.
Abel stared at the screen. He didn’t know what he expected to happen, but he waited patiently like a cat at a mousehole. The loud sound of Viognier spit out of his phone, vibrating simultaneously nearly causing him to jump out of his seat.
The number displayed on the screen had a New York area code. He didn’t know anyone from New York and almost didn’t answer it, but he lifted the phone from the desk. It’s probably a telemarketer.
“Abel Burney,” he said.
“Does this gala include tiny food on buttery crackers and good wine, Mr. Burney?” the soft voice said.
She called.
“Yes, it does,” he said lowering the octave in his voice, “I’m almost certain it will include some form of seafood or chicken on a skewer as well.”
“Good, then it’s a date,” she said. “Will a little black dress be appropriate?”
“It will,” he said with a smile. “The gala is an African exhibit, and don’t ask me why, but I have a Kenta cloth tie.”
“I have a matching head wrap,” Julie responded. “If you don’t ask any questions, I won’t either.”
Abel laughed. “Six pm, be ready to roll,” he said softly.
“See you then,” Julie said and hung up the phone.
Holy crap, I have a date.
JULIE SPENT MOST OF the next day trying her hand at riding the bike around Endurance. She made it as far as the coffee shop, and spent the rest of the afternoon trying to reorient herself to pedal the bike for the three blocks to her house. The nice girl behind the counter made her a protein smoothie packed with potassium, which helped a great deal. The bike was pushed as she made her way to the cottage, and she spent the remainder of the evening with her second boyfriend, Couchie.
“I love you Couchie, you understand my needs,” she whispered to the green flower covered sofa with the high back and oversized pillows. He held her again as she tried to make phone calls to her family, then to her boss who spent most of the conversation laughing at her antics.
“It takes two weeks to become acclimated Julie,” Elsie Devonshire, the publishing manager of the magazine, told her.
“I know Elsie, but it is so pretty here, even in winter,” she replied, trying to catch her breath. “There are events here that I can’t even get to because I can’t get enough air to fuel me.”
“You are not going to be any good to the magazine or anyone else if they find you blue on the floor from altitude sickness,” Elsie told her. “Take it slow.”
“I’m trying,” she said.
“Although I appreciate the art of persistence, I need you to focus on the long-term goal versus the short term. Get out, meet the locals, let them get used to you being in their world, so they can trust you,” Elsie said.
“On that note, I’m going to a gala opening tonight at the museum. Kinda looking forward to it,” she said.
“You met someone already?”
Julie bit her bottom lip. She didn’t quite meet Abel Burney, but he was thrust into her life. There was no way to deny the attraction between them, and for that reason, she relished the opportunity to get dressed up to show him a different side of her. He was a good-looking man, but she couldn’t tell how old Abel was since the man was so physically fit.
“Something like that,” she told Elsie, clicking off the line. She thought of the grey streaks at Abel’s temples, the piercing blue eyes, and the wicked smile. He was, by all means, a silver-fox, but she couldn’t tell his age since some people greyed earlier in life than others. It didn’t matter either way. He was good looking, and she was bordering on hungry for male companionship.
“I bet he looks good in a suit,” she said, giving in to Mr. Pillow. After a quick nap, she would be back up and ready to start plotting the romance novel of a couple, mismatched in every way, but fueled by an undeniable chemistry.
ABEL ARRIVED AT THE cottage dressed to impress in his black suit, black dress shoes, and African print tie. He rang the doorbell and tried to shield the bouquet of flowers he brought for the dining room table. Hopefully, if he were lucky, she would take pity on a bachelor by making a nice dinner and inviting him to sample the wonders of her cooking. Who am I kidding? She doesn’t seem capable of boiling water. The woman couldn’t even find a pair of shoes without her first cup of coffee. How she managed to drive her car in those ridiculous bunny slippers still boggles my mind.
“Wow,” Julie said opening the door to a large bouquet of flowers, “double wow on the flowers.”
“Are you ready?” Abel asked, stepping across the threshold.
She turned in the black dress. It clung to all of her small curves, but the dress was unzipped. The satin black shoes worn on her dainty feet had just enough heel for her to kiss him without having to tiptoe. He felt his cheeks redden at having such a forward thought.
“I am,” she told him grabbing her purse and keys. “Abel, would you be so kind as to zip me up?”
For a moment, the flash of exposed skin made his mouth water, the thoughts in his brain blurred, and the desire to pepper her beautiful skin with butterfly kisses overruled his ability to operate the zipper. Instead, he moved his attention to the Kente cloth resting on the table next to her purse. Abel thought she would have wrapped her hair in the African cloth, but instead, she wore it draped about her shoulders as a wrap. The scent of her perfume made his pupils dilate as he deeply inhaled the heady aroma that filled the air with each of her movements. She passed by him smelling like a yummy snack to a man on sugar free diet. Abel found himself shocked at his very carnal, and all male reaction to Julie.
“Stop looking at me like you want to lick me, Abel Burney,” she offered as she handed him the door keys to secure the front door. “We have seafood on a skewer to dine on tonight, along with some African art pieces that are probably on the shelves at Target.”
“Actually, the curator had these shipped in from Côte d’Ivoirie,” he said, opening the car door for her. “I should know... I’m one of the sponsors.”
“A rescuer of women and an art lover,” she said. “I assume you are single. At least, I hope since you brought me flowers.”
“I am very single,” he said, checking his rear-view mirror while backing s
lowly out of the driveway. The scent of her perfume filled his nostrils with possibilities of a make out session later on the old lumpy couch. At 47 years old, the idea of making out with her made him feel lightheaded. “Are you?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Men seem to flee from all of this awesomeness bundled in a small package of confusion,” she said with a wink.
“I’m not fleeing Julie Kraztner,” he replied with a wink of his own. “I seem to be running towards the burning building, trying to get inside.”
She glanced at him sideways not sure on the meaning of getting inside. Twice he made comments that she misunderstood, but not tonight, she wanted to be clear on where he was going.
“Is that your plan Abel?” she asked looking at him through the darkened car interior. “Are you trying to get inside?”
“Not yet,” he said with a smile and another wink. The wink this time was laced with subtle innuendo that hit the seat of her underpants like a thunderbolt. Light seemed to permeate the dark fabric of the dress, illuminating a possibility that she kept in the dark for many years. Her schedule didn’t permit long-term relationships. In all honesty, it was hell on short ones. However, a year in Endurance with Mr. Sexy Grey Temples made her think differently.
She grinned all the way to the museum, which to her surprise was lit up like a Christmas tree. College students served as valets, handing out tickets when they exchanged car keys to park vehicles. A handsome young man with startling blue eyes switched out with another valet to park Abel’s car.
“Here is your ticket, Mr. Burney,” he said, but his eyes were on Julie.
“Ralph, this is Julie Kratzner. She is a feature writer for Sports Complicated, and she’s renting the cottage on Dodger Lane,” he told the young man.
Julie thought it odd to give the young man so much information about her. She didn’t know him or Abel well enough yet. There would be a conversation once they were out of earshot of the young man. For all she knew, they could be partners in a scheme against the single women in town. The hesitation showed on her face and Abel eased her fears with one sentence.
“Julie, this is my son Ralph Burney.”
“Pleasure to meet you,” she responded, giving the young man a warm smile and a handshake.
“Enjoy your evening folks,” Ralph responded, giving his father the thumbs up.
“I saw that,” she called over her shoulder to Ralph.
She could feel Abel’s hand in the small of her back as he escorted her through the door, as African dancers came out the back room to the sound of drums, moving in rhythm. It took everything in her not to laugh as stiff white people tried to move with the dancers matching their movements. Comical would have been the appropriate word as the dancers stopped moving, but the museum patrons did not, and a tall, attractive black woman addressed the crowd. Giving thanks to the donors and supporters, she carefully avoided naming any one group of individuals as rounds of applause sounded and the exhibit opened.
Abel led her through the building, which was larger than she expected, with the library occupying the top two floors. The display was impressive, but she admired the cases in which the items were showcased. Each container, whether open or encased in glass, appeared to be custom made. Abel noticed her admiring the craftsmanship.
“That is the handy work of Jose Primavera,” he told her. “He is a local contractor who creates displays specific for each showing. Amelie Bishop, the curator, has three major exhibits per year. This one runs through the spring.”
Julie’s attention was in watching the museum patrons, searching for potential characters in her novel. Her eyes stopped when she spotted a handsome, Hispanic male behind a column. She asked Abel, “I take it Jose is the man hiding behind the case watching her every move?”
Abel turned to see who she was talking about. He spotted Jose standing next to his daughter, Lupita, a bright young girl heart set on getting her father remarried. Leaning down, Abel’s lips were close to Julie’s ear.
“One and the same,” he whispered, sending shivers down her spine. “His daughter, Lupita, has been trying for nearly a year to get her father to start dating. She has her sights set on Amelie,” he said as his hand pressed into her back, forcing her closer to him.
“Abel, is there any chemistry between Jose and the curator?”
“Tons, but Jose is stupid,” Abel offered, which gained Julie’s full attention. “I say he’s stupid because you see the man standing next to Amelie, that is his best friend Kenny, who is, in fact, an idiot.”
“That’s not a very nice thing to say,” Julie said.
“No, he is. One conversation with him and you will say the same,” he said. “The man offered the librarian a fish dinner, but he brought her fresh fish caught down by Tommy’s pond, still on the string and still moving.”
“Ewww,” she replied.
“Exactly. Kenny has no idea how to court a woman, yet Jose asked him for help,” Abel said. “The whole Cyrano thing isn’t going to work out even with Jose’s clever artfully persistent approach. There is no way Kenny can help Jose converse with a savvy woman like Amelie.”
Julie could see that Abel was impressed with the curator, prompting her to ask, “May I ask why you didn’t go for her?”
“She is young and possibly wants children,” he said, slipping his hand into her own, “I’m 47 and looking to travel and enjoy the rest of my life, not spend my mornings changing diapers.”
“And what are you doing out tonight with me? I am still of child bearing age,” she told Abel. “What if...whatever this is sparking between us goes further and we both want something more?”
Abel appreciated the direct approach of Julie’s inquiry, prompting him to ask, “Do you know at this point that you want something more or do you desire the something now?”
“I am an in the moment kind of woman,” she said. “And you, Abel?”
“My dear, I am all about the now,” he said. “Right now, I want to get out of here and spend a few moments acquainting myself with those adorable lips that are begging me to kiss them.”
“You don’t waste any time,” she said to Abel, pulling away from his touch.
“No, I don’t,” he said. “The house is rented for a year. I either have a year or however long you are here. From the moment I held your hand on that plane, I haven’t been able get you off my mind.”
“How convenient that I am renting your house,” she said with a tinge of sarcasm.
“The company you work for rented the house,” he said, bringing her hand to his lips. “I rent homes all across Endurance to companies, individuals, and seasonal hikers.”
“For a moment there, I felt special,” she said looking at him with questions on her face, “but now I feel like you select the best of the available renters.”
“I am only trying to date you,” he said lowering her hand. “I’m rusty at this and taking a chance on you, on us, or whatever this is Julie. If you’re not interested, I will not be hurt.”
“Liar,” she said.
Abel smiled. “Okay, I would be crushed, but I will get over it. Eventually,” he told her.
“Well, I have never been one to crush a man’s feelings,” she told him. “Can we get out of here? It’s too many people in such a small space. I feel claustrophobic.”
“Sure thing,” he said as he led her out a door to a small garden. In the winter, the garden was a misnomer since there were only hibernating shrubs and two park benches. It was cool as a wind blew by them and she shuddered. “Are you cold?”
It was the look she gave him that made his blood boil. Desire for her shot through his lower body, the sensation nearly made him growl with deprivation from physical contact. His arm went around her shoulder, moving her thin frame closer to him as he lowered his head for a kiss. Julie stood immobile, watching the head full of thick hair with grayed temples come at her. Instinctually, she wanted to back off and run from whatever was happening between them, but the need to connect drew he
r to him as his soft lips connected with hers in a tentative kiss that bordered on animalistic. She clung to the expensive tuxedo he wore like a second skin. His tongue darted into her mouth and dueled with hers as she held tight to his jacket, melting into him.
“Oohh, somebody is getting lucky tonight. Work it! Work it! Do your thang, Mr. Burney,” a male voice called from somewhere in the garden.
She and Abel broke free of their kiss, both searching for the source of intrusion. She spotted Kenny, Jose’s friend, standing behind the dead bushes, pointing at them like a moron.
“You’re right, he is an idiot,” Julie said.
Chapter 4 – Staying the Course
The month of March eased into Endurance with the arrival of the largest crowd Julie had seen to date, with runners preparing for the Way Too Cool 50K Run. In her mind, there was nothing cool about running 31 miles unless she was being chased by brain munching zombies. The other thing that wasn’t cool were grown men walking around in running shorts with loose body parts either flapping left and jingling right or being snuggled so tight, it looked as if a bag of chicken parts were being held, hostage.
Nuts.
It still came down to a big set of nuts. This time, at least 3,000 of them had shown up to run a marathon at an elevation of 4,839 feet above sea level. She did notice a change in the town in late February, when a great number of the early, serious runners showed up to get acclimated. Even though she’d been in Endurance for well over a month, she still got winded riding her bike to the library. She was also getting winded each time Abel took her out and came back to her place.
The make out sessions were heating up, but she had reservations about the man. At 47 years old, he was indeed in prime shape and a hell of a specimen of a gent, but the whole kid thing bothered her a bit. The curator of the museum didn’t appear to be much younger than she was – although kids were not on her list of things to have in any future, alternate or present. But, she didn’t appreciate the idea of being in a relationship with a man who immediately said no. Accidents happen and as her mother often said, “Your plans and God’s plans are never the same.” The idea of fate being cruel and gifting her with an offspring by Abel Burney made her hesitant to move forward with him.
