Animal Angel

by M. J. Wilson

  She knocked on his door.

  He answered in a pair of low-slung, well-worn jeans, a blue T-shirt that made his eye color pop, and bare feet. “Hey, Mavis, come in,” he said, standing aside for her to enter.

  She stepped through the door, clutching her clipboard, and smelled the most delicious aroma. Her stomach growled as if on cue. Her heart started to race, and sweat beads broke out on her forehead. He had company. “D-did I get my time wrong?”

  “No. Why?”

  “I just… I don’t want to interrupt.”

  “You’re not. Come on in.”

  Mavis tried to psych herself up. Guess it is time to meet the girlfriend. Why did that thought leave a bad taste in her mouth? “Honest, I can come back if you have company.”

  “I don’t— I mean I do.”

  Oh great. There is a beauty queen in the kitchen. She sighed.

  “Relax. It’s you.” He reached out and ran a reassuring hand down her arm, leaving a heated sensation in its wake

  “What’s me?”

  “My company.”

  Her brow crinkled. “I’m so confused,” she said, looking down at her feet.

  He tugged her toward the kitchen, and the scent of the garlic and basil pulsed through her nostrils, triggering her salivary glands into action.

  “Eat dinner with me.”

  Her wide eyes snapped to his. “Oh no… no… no. I can’t do that.” She shook her head so hard it made her neck crack.

  “Sure you can. I’ve made a chicken fettuccine, garlic bread, and a mixed green salad. You’re not a vegetarian, are you?”

  “No, but that’s beside the point.”

  “What is the point then? We eat, and then you can inspect my house.”

  Mavis opened her mouth, but no words came out. The food smelled out-of-this-world delicious, but being on such friendly terms with him could be dangerous. She didn’t want to like him.

  “Hey, stop the war of words in your head and sit down. I’ll get the food.”

  “You planned this,” she said, the truth dawning on her.

  “Let’s just say I thought this would be much easier than asking you out. Now our first date is out of the way.” His back faced her as he mixed the pasta into the sauce.

  “Date?”

  “Yep.”

  “Wait, don’t I have to agree to a date?”

  “You’re sitting at my kitchen table, and I can hear your stomach from here. You’ve agreed.”

  “Wait. What’s happening here?” she asked, placing her hands flat on the table as she tried to absorb everything that had taken place in the last few minutes.

  His kitchen had a U-shaped layout with an island. The massive expanse of storage and counter space made her envious as she thought about her cubicle of a kitchen that barely had enough room for her to butter toast. The countertops were clear of any clutter, except for the exact same espresso machine she’d drooled over in the store a couple of weeks ago. This is progress — now I hate him.

  He dished up the dinner, placed the plates on his forearm, and sauntered over to Mavis. Reaching around her, he leaned in close to set a plate of pasta and a bowl for salad in front of her. “We are having a date,” he said, matter-of-fact, breath warm on her ear. “I thought given a choice you would say no, so I made this easy on you to accept.”

  “How thoughtful of you?” She raised her eyebrows.

  “Look. You’re here. You’re hungry. Let’s eat.” He sat down across from her.

  It smelled wonderful, and her hunger was overruling her head. She reached for the salad.

  “Good. It’s a date,” he reinforced.

  Mavis opened her mouth, closed it, and opened it again. A sigh escaped her, but no words of argument followed. All the trouble he’d gone to for her caught her off guard, and she was touched.

  “Mmm. My gracious, this is amazing,” she said, closing her eyes and holding the bite in her mouth, savoring the creamy sauce. The roasted garlic, parmesan, and she thought nutmeg formed the perfect partnership. Her palate quivered in delight. Divine. Her eyes fluttered open.

  “Are you surprised?”

  “A little,” she said, pushing her pasta around on her plate. “Can I ask you something, and will you give me an honest answer?”

  “Mavis, I always give honest answers.”

  “Why did you do all this?” She pointed her empty fork around the dishes of food.

  He put his wine glass down and leaned his forearms on the table. “I like you and wanted to get to know you better.” He tilted his head and wiped the sweat from his glass with his fingertip. His eyes lit up as the corner of his lip rose. The innocence of it warmed her soul.

  Regretting that she’d asked but finding it too late to retract, she plowed on. “I was mean to you.”

  “You were, but yesterday at your trailer, I got a glimpse at a different side when your walls came down. There’s some pain there, but I also saw perseverance and strength. I knew you were worth the effort.”

  During a weak moment she’d let her shields down, and it bothered her that he’d witnessed it. It was as though she had been stripped naked and put on a pedestal in the middle of a crowded auditorium. “You saw all that?”

  “I’m a detective. It’s my job to read people.”

  “You give me a headache,” she said, taking another bite of salad.

  “Not what I was going for.”

  “Not in a bad way. In an I-can’t-figure-you-out way,” she said, drawing circles in the air with her fork.

  “That’s like I’m mysterious. I like it.”

  She laughed, setting her utensils down. “You’re different. Just when I think I have you figured out, you get goofy.”

  A slanted grin pulled on the corner of his mouth, enough to pop out a single dimple. “Why don’t you check out the back yard while I get these dishes cleared?”

  “I’ll help you.”

  “No. I’ve got this. You relax.”

  Mavis walked around the large back yard looking for any place Dulce might be able to escape, but there wasn’t anything. Truth be told, he had a wonderful yard for a dog. It was about half an acre. Fully enclosed. Several oak trees that looked like they had lived at least a hundred years. Their long sweeping branches would provide plenty of shade in the heat of the day. Natural stone pavers created the back patio and a well-used top-of-the-line grill sat off to the side under the covered patio. That, and the plush-padded, black iron furniture, made it the perfect place for entertaining.

  Mavis thought about her single porch swing attached to a tree limb. The envy bug bit her once again.

  The sun was dropping below the horizon. The air grew cool, and a shiver went through her. She smacked a mosquito on her arm and wiped away the red smudge. Another landed, so she escaped back inside before she lost so much blood she passed out and became a mosquito buffet.

  Her hand slid across the back of his smooth leather couch as she walked around to the front. Feels like butter. She plopped down and curled her legs underneath her, taking in her surroundings. His living room was cozy. A clank of him putting the last of the dishes in the dishwasher made her jump. Being here put her nervous system on high alert, and she eyed the distance to the front door in case things got uncomfortable and she needed to bolt. The fireplace across the room was red brick, and the hearth was black with charcoal markings. It still held remnants of some charred timber, and she would swear she could smell the wood burning.

  A sigh escaped her. She’d always wanted a fireplace and wished he would build a fire, even though it was eighty degrees outside. A well-worn recliner sat catty-corned, and she could picture him napping there with a book on his chest. Red-oak, wide-plank wood flooring was coved by a burgundy-and-tan-checked area rug.

  Her hand brushed the top of one of two end tables that framed the couch. She picked up a picture of a beautiful little girl off the end table and studied it. By the looks of the girl, Mavis estimated her to be around five years old. She had long,
blond hair pulled tight into pigtails. Each was fastened with a dark blue bow. Mavis smiled, touching the picture with her fingertip. The child’s bright blue eyes sparkled, and the blue-and-white sundress she wore only made them stand out more. Niece, she wondered? She put the picture back.

  Weston came in with a glass of red wine and handed it over, sitting down next to her. Mavis fought the urge to scoot over and put a little more space between them.

  “Who’s the little girl?” she asked, pointing at the picture.

  “My daughter, Laney,” he said, looking at the photo over her shoulder.

  Mavis blew out her air like she’d taken a punch. “Y-your daughter?” She pressed her lips into a grim line. Way to put on your poker face, Mavis… brilliant job.

  “You want to run for the door now, right?”

  “No. It’s not that… I just didn’t know,” she said, shaking her head. She dropped her focus to the floor to combat the overwhelming nauseousness at this news. Jealousy was a heavy cross to bear — he had something she never would.

  “Of course you didn’t. This was only our first date.” He winked. “We have a lot to learn about each other.”

  “She’s beautiful. Where is she?”

  “With my ex,” he said, disappointment registering on his face as the corners of his mouth pulled downward.

  “Oh.” Why was she being so nosy? Personally, she clammed up anytime anyone asked her about her past, but this guy answered every question she’d thrown at him without hesitation… Why not ask him, she thought? He can always refuse to answer. “What happened? I mean, you’re young to be married and divorced.”

  “That’s what happened. I was way too young to get married. We were high school sweethearts, and she told me she was pregnant our senior year, so I did what I thought I was supposed to. I married her.”

  “Well that little girl only looks five or so.”

  “Good guess,” he said, looking into her eyes, making her shift back a little. “Are you sure you want the ugly story?”

  “No.” Her left hand rubbed the front of her neck leaving it reddened. “I don’t want to pry into your personal business if you don’t like to talk about it.”

  “If you haven’t noticed, I don’t keep a lot of secrets.” He took a sip of his beer, and she took a large gulp of her wine. “She lied — she wasn’t pregnant. She only said she was because she wanted me to marry her. It didn’t take long after the wedding to figure out she wasn’t pregnant. I took vows, so I tried to make it work, but after a couple of years, I couldn’t take it anymore and filed for divorce.” He took a long pull of his beer. “She didn’t tell me she’d stopped taking her birth control months before, and by that time she was truly pregnant.”

  Mavis waited for him to continue. She liked how comfortable he was with his life — if only she could be so accepting of her own shortcomings. She regarded the man sitting so close to her, and a curling warmth settled in her belly. The more time she spent with him, the more she wanted to learn about him. What’s happening to me?

  “Needless to say, I stopped the divorce. I have a wonderful little girl, but I was still a kid myself at twenty-one. Our marriage lasted another three years,” he said, setting his beer down.

  She could tell his mind had wandered back to that time.

  “Our marriage was doomed from the beginning. You can’t build a relationship on lies. I guess that’s why I’m so straightforward. You know — here’s who I am. Accept me or not.”

  Guilt kicked her straight in her conscience. She always hid her past from everyone. She didn’t like talking about it, and she wasn’t sure she ever would.

  Folding her leg under her, she faced Weston. “You have a daughter though. Even if nothing else worked out. You have a beautiful daughter.” Her voice cracked on the last word. A single grief-ridden tear welled up in the corner of her eye, wanting to take the plunge off the edge. She shifted before he could see it and used her knuckle to brush it from sight.

  “I sure do, and she is the light of my life.” His eyes danced talking about her. “I wish she stayed with me more often, but her time is split with the ex.” He shrugged. “We actually get along better divorced than married. Weird, huh?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe you took away the expectation and could finally be yourselves.”

  “Maybe.” Weston shrugged for a second time.

  His unyielding gaze was making it hard for Mavis to swallow. She glanced away, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, and took a deep breath trying to gather her courage to face him. When she looked back, his eyes held hers, and the earnestness made her cheeks burn. I might still get my wish for that fire. She gnawed on the corner of her mouth and couldn’t stop the swirling sensation warming her middle. Her fingers brushed her bottom lip as her thoughts drifted to yesterday’s mind-numbing kiss.

  She snapped out of it when he took her wine glass and set it down on the coffee table. She wanted to snatch it back up and use it as her security object, same as she had with her teddy bear as a child. Mavis’s heart raced, and her flight instinct pummeled any reserve valor she had left, telling her to throw in the towel and run.

  He moved closer to her, tracing his thumb along her jawline. “Talk to me, Mavis. Why are you so sad?”

  “I’m not.” She fought the urge to fan herself, yearning for a cold shower. Her body tingled at the mere sensation of his tender touch, and her brain stopped working, making it difficult to form a sentence.

  “Come on,” he said, leaning in. “I’ve laid the details of my sordid past out for you. I want you to know me, and I want to know everything about you. Please talk to me — trust me.”

  His lips brushed her cheek, and she almost fell off the couch as her stomach plummeted into her toes. His touch awakened a part of her she’d put to sleep many years ago; those freed emotions were running rampant like buffalo stampeding inside her. The butterflies had barely settled when he nibbled at a soft place in the hollow of her neck, sending them soaring again.

  She leaned her head back, a quiet moan escaping her. She was completely lost as their eyes met, forming a fierce connection. Her breathing came in short gasps. She wrapped her hands around his neck, begging him to come closer, unable to hold back a second longer. The scent of cloves and garlic still lingered on his skin as she outlined his jaw with her nose.

  “Please, Mavis. Trust me,” he whispered, right before his mouth took hers.

  She was riding the wave fast and hard. No longer in control of her senses, she set her inhibitions free. The years of loneliness, of self-loathing, were poured into a life-altering kiss.

  Weston place one hand on the sofa and shifted his frame bringing him closer to Mavis. His other hand slid down to her waist guiding her underneath him, gently pressing her into the cushions. She went without a battle, enjoying the reassurance of his sturdy frame weighing her down. Mavis’s fingers slipped down his face, whisper-soft, and he grabbed her hand, kissing the palm and resting it on his chest.

  She arched toward him pressing her body even closer and electricity sparked as their lips meshed again. Her whole being screamed with the desire bubbling to the surface by his warm and welcoming embrace. Mavis traced her toes along his leg, hooking her foot behind his knee, as her body responded to every touch he offered.

  Weston pulled back and studied her. Their breaths came in short, raspy gasps as heat arced between them. Mavis’s intense reaction to Weston sent insecurity careening headlong through her. Her heart wrenched in her chest, being tugged between what she wanted and what she believed she could have.

  A tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. His lips brushed it away. Her heart pounded as it fought to free itself from the box she kept it encased in. Never allowing herself to want someone… want this. This man was making her crave a normal life. Making her want to be desired with all her flaws.

  “Mavis,” he said between kisses, “why do you hurt so much?” He slid his hand down her side, tracing the curve of her hip. H
is eyes followed the motion of his hand.

  Her pulse began to throb in her temples. He was knocking down the protection system she’d constructed. She now wanted more than she’d convinced herself she could have. A cold sweat broke out all over her body. The spiritual connection flickering between them was unlocking all that pain her heart held. What am I doing? What was I thinking, coming here?

  A tingling raced through her body. Almost no sensation remained in her legs. She was opening up to allow herself to feel again. Her heart hammered irregular beats in her chest. The pain from the shrill ringing in her ears had her panting. What’s happening to me?

  Her hands pressed against his chest. His weight was suffocating her. Can’t breathe… need air. White flashes exploded behind her eyes, virtually blinding her. A whimper escaped her throat.

  Tears pooled in the rim of her eyelids. The dam was breaking.

  “Get off me… get off me.” She pounded on his chest.

  “Mavis. Stop. Please.” He pushed himself upright, releasing her from under him. “Tell me, what’s wrong?” His hand reached for her arm, but she drew back, eyes wildly looking in all directions.

  She leapt to her feet and snatched her purse and clipboard off the floor, before turning to run for the door.

  Weston went after her, grabbing her arm before she could open the door. “Mavis. Please don’t leave. Tell me what I did wrong.”

  Her dinner rolled in her stomach, and she was fighting to keep it together. “You did nothing wrong. You’re perfect.” She shoved him with all her remaining strength. “You’re utterly perfect.” A hollowness replaced the warmth that filled her body moments before. She tilted her head to the side, mouth slack. An eerie silence blared in the room as she just stared blankly at Weston. Reaching out, her fingertips trembled as she touched his cheek. “You deserve more than I can ever give you.”

  She yanked her arm free and ran out the door. Why did I come here? Weston was beautiful inside and out. In a short time, he’d made her feel cherished. “Ha,” she cried, shrill, into the night. Me, cherished. I’m an idiot to think I could be something anyone cherished. I am nothing, with nothing to offer. I’m a broken person… pure disappointment.