by Ada Winter
I think for a second, then continue.
“I think you’re beautiful.”
“No, I’m not.” Blushing a bit.
“Celia, remember. Just say ‘thank you’.”
I notice she is smiling when I look over at her. Without warning, I pull over on the side of the road. Looking straight into her eyes now.
“Celia, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”
Her eyes study mine now as she tries to read my true intentions. After a few moments, a radiant smile lights up her face.
“Thank you.”
The tension has built up a little and I want to kiss her, and I think she’ll let me. Instead I put my hand gently to her face and stroke softly down her smooth cheek and to her chin, letting my thumb linger there for a few moments.
“We should be going.”
She nods, never taking her eyes off mine.
I don’t fully know why I didn’t kiss her. Rolling through a list of reasons, I decided on this as the best option.
Celia thinks I’m a player.
She’s right. Except for one thing. It’s past tense.
I was a player.
I was the best of the best and I’ve had a long history of one-night stands to prove it. Things are different now. Since the first moment I laid eyes on Celia, everything would always be different.
Here’s another reason. I don’t want to ruin things. Everything is going so well. If there is a move in the direction of sex, I want it to be her move. Players always push for sex hard and relentlessly. Celia knows that. All women who have a clue know this. Of course, there will be my normal jokes filled with sexual innuendo, it is who I am, but the first physical move needs to be hers.
I started this trip as a semi-player, Celia having reformed me a bit already, but I am not a player. Not anymore. Celia needs to see that. She needs to know that, deep down. It needs to come through in my actions. I wanted to kiss her. Hell, I should have kissed her. It just didn’t feel right. I can be patient with Celia. I won’t force her into anything until she is ready. Until she feels comfortable.
I sit with my thoughts, and no one could be more surprised than me at what they were.
Chapter 18
CELIA
He’s not kissing me. It was set up perfectly. He told me I was the most beautiful woman he’s ever met. Yet he didn’t kiss me, even though I was open to it. I will kiss him back if he tries.
Then he said we should be going and drove away. Now, he’s quiet in his thoughts. What is he thinking? I would give anything to have a peek inside his ‘man brain’.
Men have always been tough to figure out for me. Except for one young man from so long ago. A lifetime ago it seems. He loved me. I knew it then and I know it now. He didn’t hesitate to kiss me when the time was right. We both went for it because it felt right.
Was this not right? What was happening between me and Lane? Was this love forming between us in its infancy stages? Was it growing in a healthy way?
I need to hear his voice so I cam read him. “What do you think about stopping for brunch soon?”
“Whatever you think, Celia. I could eat any time, I think.” Nothing. He doesn’t give me any indication one way or the other.
“I know a place up a few exits called Mama Brava’s. They have great Mexican food.”
“That sounds great.”
****
We pull in around 11:30. It’s a little early for lunch, but this place is too amazing to pass up. I was last there a few years ago when coming to pick up another horse. Tracy was my traveling partner that time and we just stumbled upon this place quite by accident.
We had checked into a hotel close by, and after dropping our stuff off, decided we needed a ladies night out. That’s when we found Mama Brava’s. A small unassuming place from the outside, but filled with a strong essence of life on the inside. Upon entering, we were surprised to find it packed. It was a true party style place and people were sitting shoulder to shoulder whether they knew the people around them or not.
The smells around us were amazing and we knew this was the place for us. The Mariachi band was playing delightful tunes, some I knew, some I didn’t. The serenaded us with De Colores. After ordering, we noted the people all around us. There were young and old, families and singles, boyfriends and girlfriends, and both straight and gay couples. At Mama Brava’s, everyone was welcome.
One amazing tradition was the Tequila Train, as they called it. An employee would come around every thirty minutes or so, and while people tilted their heads back, they would pour a shot of tequila down their throats. Wow! In no time at all, it seemed like everyone was drunk. The food was amazing, everyone was laughing, and the jovial atmosphere was one of the most unique I have ever experienced.
Lane got a kick out of my story and he was eager to check it out.
When we enter, it is an entirely different scene from what I described to Lane. There are a few people scattered here and there, and gone is the raucous crowd I remember so vividly. We sit down and order our food, and decide to order just one margarita each despite the drive ahead. Lane explains how margaritas are like women’s breasts.
“One is not enough, three is too many, and two is just right.” This makes me laugh, breaking some of the tension from earlier.
The decor is eclectic, to say the least. Bright, red glowing hot chile peppers on lighted strings hang over each table throwing off a soft, warm light on our faces. An old cow skull hangs on the wall along with woven Mexican blankets made up of all the colors of the rainbow. The menus have very few items on them, but I knew from experience that everything on them is really good. Lane orders some tacos and I order a large chicken burrito.
While we are waiting for our order and making small talk, an older Hispanic woman and man come up to our table and immediately sit down with us. She is a beautiful woman, even at her advanced age, and her eyes are so full of life. He is just as elderly, with a thick head of silver-white hair and the most genuine smile I have ever witnessed.
The man opens. “So how did you hear about Mama Brava’s?”
I answer, giving a brief account of my earlier story.
The man speaks. “Ah, yes. We’ve found that some nights are more lively than others.”
Inexplicably, the woman stands up and starts rubbing Lane’s shoulders.
Lane is a good sport, but says. “You don’t have to, really.”
“Nonsense!” she retorts. “You are our guests and we want you to feel at home.
Addressing me now. “Such strong shoulders this one has.” She winks. Damn, I need to learn how to do that. Wink, that is.
I smile, as I don’t know what to say.
“He loves you, you know. I can see it in his eyes.”
I laugh out loud, and view Lane, who has the most amused look on his face.
“You have the love in your eyes, too.” I feel self-conscious about her observation.
The man speaks now. “Believe us…we know. We’ve watched thousands of people in our restaurant over the past thirty-two years and we know love when we see it.”
He walks over to her and gestures to one of the musicians, who is eating lunch, to play. The man rises, and with a smile begins playing ‘De Colores’ on his guitar. I know that song from the last time I was here.
Pulling him to her now, the man dances with her like she is the only woman in the world. They are cheek-to-cheek now with one hand on her shoulder and the other reaching around her waist. It’s love personified and I can’t remember seeing anything so touching.
I wipe a small tear from my eye and feel the full emotions of the moment as Lane looks at me, then back to the old Mexican dancing couple. They are so clearly in love, and their love for each other makes me think of me and Lane.
Does he love me? It is so soon since we first met. I have some feelings for him and I know he has feelings for me.
But love?
The old
couple saw it and they were convinced. Could they actually see the seed of love growing between us where we could not? Our food and drinks come out to our table just then, distracting us enough to look away from the still dancing couple.
Lane toasts the couple by raising his glass to them, and then he repeats the same to me.
“To love,” he says. I toast him back.
To their love or to ours?
He gives no indication which.
****
The food is muy bien and the margaritas fuerte. I took a bit of Spanish in high school and some words are coming back to me. We have them on the rocks and with no salt and the taste still lingers on my lips as Lane pays and we exit Mama Brava’s.
I hug the old couple and they return the affection genuinely. Lane seems surprised when the old woman hugs him and holds on for what turns out to be an awkward amount of time.
As the Love Boat theme song comes to mind, I whisper to Lane in his free ear.
“Love is in the air.”
The couple walk us to the door, and as we turn to wave, the woman says, “Remember to invite us to the wedding.”
Chapter 19
LANE
Celia asks me to drive as those margaritas were stronger than we anticipated. I happily oblige. She strikes up a conversation first as I flip through the radio stations and find some Maroon 5 we can groove to.
“That was quite an experience, huh? Every time I go in there something amazing happens.”
“They were quite a couple. Very inspiring.”
“I think the old woman had a crush on you.”
I shrug my shoulders and tilt my head to one side. “Oh, I don’t know. I think she treats everyone that way.” I don’t believe what I said, though. She was into me.
“I wish I could be more like them.” Her comment needs clarifying.
“In what way?”
“Their spice for life. How many people would bust into a dance like that in front of other people?”
“Just their spice of life and not their love?”
“It’s all of it, Lane. I do want love like that someday.”
Someday. That word sticks with me. It means it hasn’t happened for her yet but she hopes it will. Someday.
“Do you have any good prospects?” She pauses, not knowing how to answer, but then she surprises me.
“Just one. I’ll have to be patient and see how it pans out.”
Okay. That’s better than someday. I’m her prospect. She’s right. We’re not there yet, but we can be.
“I hope it all works out the way you want it to.”
“It takes two, otherwise it doesn’t have a chance to work.”
“Two people, same goals, equal amounts of love and commitment. It could work with the right ingredients.”
Holy shit. I had just laid out a rough success plan for our relationship. It doesn’t get bolder than that.
She goes on to say, “The right ingredients don’t always make the same pie in the end. Some get burnt from overcooking, and others don’t turn out right due to something missing. There are a lucky few that are just perfect.”
“So it takes having the right ingredients and being committed to the process that determines the outcome?”
She nods. “It’s not always that simple, I’m sure, but that’s the basic idea, as far as I can tell.”
“All this talk is making me hungry. Hungry for something more.” I look at her squarely while saying that last part.
I can tell by her reaction that she likes my response. We are on the same page about us, that much I know.
Uptown Funk by Bruno Mars comes on the radio and I crank up the volume. Celia knows most of the words and belts them out.
I thought of the telling lyrics as she sang. Yes, we in the spot all right.
How will we perform?
Chapter 20
CELIA
Around 9:00 that evening, we come up on the exit where I had picked Lane up yesterday, but he refuses to pull off.
“Celia, it’s late, and I’m going to make sure you get home safe.”
“How are you going to get home from Bar Harbor?”
“I’ll rent a car. No big deal.”
He is still driving so there isn’t much more I can do. He had driven the entire way back and he really didn’t have to. Lane did it because he wanted to. It was sweet.
“Last chance, Lane.”
“I like that as a nickname. Last Chance Lane. Get him now while you still can.” He says the last part in a pitchman’s voice.
“You are ridiculous.”
“You won’t get rid of me that easily. If I let you drive, then you won’t get home until midnight. Then you’ll have to unload a horse and trailer on your own. Nope, I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I didn’t stay the course.”
“Is that what you are? A gentleman?”
“I’d like to think so.”
“It’s nice, Lane. Thank you.”
The last three hours pass by quickly and smoothly. Lane tells me about the time he crashed his bike going down a large hill and he ended up cutting or bruising over half of his body. I told him about my imaginary friend named Frieda who would stay with me during lightning and thunder storms. We spent the drive sharing lots of stories and experiences, and it was really quite nice.
We pull into the stable just before midnight, and the moon is almost full, pretty in the dark night sky. The crickets are chirping loudly and the smell of freshly cut grass soaked with dew filled my nostrils.
Nature. This is what I was missing out on the last two days having spent most of it holed up in a pickup truck. The company was nice, though.
Not nice.
Great.
Lane helps me unload Lucky from the trailer. Really, he just holds the doors open as I lead Lucky out and down the gravel path to the stables. He is a horse who doesn’t trust humans, and it was going to be my job to acclimate him.
We unhitch the trailer and fifteen minutes later our job is complete. Lane had stood by me through two days of driving across multiple states and hadn’t complained once. On the contrary, he was very agreeable and went with the flow even when an 80-year-old woman was putting the moves on him. I’m impressed.
Just then, he grabs me by the hand and walks me over to some smooth rocks jutting out of a hillside adjacent to the barn. We sit down in a spot where we have a decent view of the moon and only the sounds and smells of nature surround us. I can hear Lucky whinnying off in the distance as he settles into his new home.
Everything is silent now except for our breathing and the crickets chirping all around us. Lane is close to me now, just sitting and watching the moon and the stars. The moon illuminates his face just enough that I can admire his sharp, handsome features, framed by his two-day stubble.
He appears a bit bleary-eyed from all the driving. It gives him a bit of an intoxicated look, which only adds to his appeal. I am the one who is intoxicated at this moment. Lane is my drug and I am enjoying its fix on me immensely.
He senses me looking at him, and I instinctively look away as he turns his head toward me.
“No need to look away. You can look at me whenever you want and for as long as you want.” The tone of his voice is husky, and seductive.
My eyes meet his. We stare into each other’s searching.
“I want to kiss you.” I speak first.
My invitation seems to be just what he is waiting for, as he slowly moves closer into me. Our tongues meet and the reaction is electric. Slowly at first, the momentum increasing by the moment as our tongues swirl and dance round and round in each other’s mouth, tasting each other. My heart quickens and my senses heighten with every added second that our lips are locked.
I am lost in this moment. Lost in the passion growing between us. My mind is mush and all that is left are two people who care for one another.
Our lips finally part and he pulls me in close, my fac
e near his ear, the smell of his hair, his hand on my face now. His touch. I had waited so long to feel his touch.
We breathe each other in, and although things could have escalated, they did not. I was glad. Lane would take things at my pace.
****
I set Lane up on my couch with a pillow and a light sheet. He warns me.
“I usually sleep naked, but tonight I’ll keep my boxers on.”
My mind wanders to the image of Lane lying naked, on my couch.
“Whatever works for you. I’ll be in my bed, maybe I’ll be naked, maybe not.”
I can see that comment stirring a reaction in him, as he instinctively licks his bottom lip lightly. I am flirting a bit, leaving it open for what may happen next.
“Thanks for ruining any chance I had of sleeping tonight.”
“The bathroom is through the door over there,” I say, gesturing towards the open door, “and I hope you’re comfortable. Sweet dreams.”
I blow him a kiss and with a tiny demure wave, I turn away. I can feel his eyes following me all the way to my room, where I close the bedroom door behind me.
My mind is rich with thoughts of Lane, our first kiss, and of course, our two-day adventure. He is growing on me, for sure. My head hits the pillow, weariness sets in and I can’t remember the last time I experienced this feeling of lightness in my heart.
Chapter 21
LANE
My mind is on Celia who is just on the other side of that door. A flimsy door, one I could easily kick down, was all that separated me from the red-haired goddess who had captured my attention from our very first meeting and never let it go.
Kissing her deeply had pushed me up to the brink of all I could handle. My engine was revving, but now I had to put it in park.
I knew it was right. To take it slow.
I thought about jerking off to relieve the pressure on my engorged cock, but that would be weird. “Just a minute, Celia. I’ll be out of your bathroom as soon as I finish whacking off.” That wouldn’t do. No, Lane. You would have to sit this one out and be patient. Patience. They say it’s the ultimate virtue. I must be scoring some huge virtue points right now.
