by Kris Calvert
“Mmmmmm…” Her sultry voice oozed with sex appeal.
“Baby, don’t tease me like that.”
She giggled like a schoolgirl, turning me on even more.
“I gotta run, Mac. I’m on my way to the gym to workout.”
“Okay, sweetheart. May I see you later?”
“That can probably be arranged. Are you sending another Bentley for me?”
“Did you like the Bentley?” I smiled to myself. “It was my mom’s car. She didn’t drive. Timms took her everywhere.”
“Very Driving Miss Daisy.”
“Yes, well, my dad never let her want for anything.”
“That must be where you get it.”
“Get what?” I asked.
“The need to take care of people.”
“Maybe I was just raised right.”
“Mr. Callahan, I believe that you were.”
“I’ll pick you up at six-thirty. Okay?”
“Are you picking me up?”
“Yes. And the dress is casual this evening.”
“Okay.”
“Hey.” I stopped her before she could say goodbye. “I adore you, Samantha Peterson.”
“I don’t know if I’ve ever been adored before.”
“You are now. Have a good day, baby.”
“Bye, Mac.”
I waited for the click and watched my phone end the call. I collapsed into the bed. I couldn’t wipe the smile from my face or her image from my mind. Shit fuckin’ fire. Is this what love feels like?
12
SAMANTHA
“What time are you going to the gym, Sam?” Polly asked as I sat down at the breakfast table with Dax.
“In just a bit,” I replied. “I thought I’d take the little man with me this morning.”
“We’re going to the gym and working on our blue waisted steel,” Dax said as he made a muscle with his arm.
“We’re doing what?”
“Polly says big boys have blue waisted steel in their arms and I want to be big and strong.”
I turned and looked at Polly, who shrugged her shoulders.
“Polly?”
“Dax,” Polly replied. “I said blue twisted steel. That’s what really big boys have.”
“I’m a big boy.”
“Yes, you are. Now go get your shoes, big boy.”
Polly sat at the table and began to hollow out half of a grapefruit. “What time did you slink in, Samantha?” she asked, raising her eyebrow without looking me in the face.
“I took a cab home from his place at five,” I whispered, half ashamed.
“You bad girl, you. You did the walk of shame early this morning.”
“Walk of shame?” I asked.
“Yeah, that horrible fifteen to twenty minutes where you’re leaving a guy’s house the morning after and replaying every bad decision you’ve ever made in your life. Believe me, you don’t want anyone bearing witness to that kind of guilt.”
“I did a walk of shame and I didn’t even know it.”
“Welcome, sister. We’ve been waiting for you to arrive,” Polly chimed sarcastically. “Forget it. How was your night? You totally did him, didn’t you?”
“I think it’s best to say he did me,” I corrected.
“Hey, Dax!” shouted Polly up the stairs from the kitchen, trying to buy more time. “Will you go to my room and get my tennis shoes too?” She turned her attention back to me. “Details, I need details.”
“I can’t give you details.” I felt the heat creep up my neck to my face.
“You are totally blushing. Was he that awesome?”
“He was… fan-man-tastic.” I couldn’t stop smiling.
“When do I get to meet him?”
“I’m seeing him again tonight, but Polly, I don’t want to make too big of a deal out of this. He’s going back to Washington, D.C. eventually, and I’ll still be here.”
“You don’t know that. Seems to me he has a pretty nice life here with the Bentleys and all.”
“Yes, well, that was nothing compared to the house and the grounds at Lone Oak.”
“Too good to be true, huh?”
“I don’t know, maybe.”
“How was the sex?” Polly asked just as Dax returned to the breakfast table with shoes.
“Thank you, Dax,” I said with a smile as I took two of the tennis shoes from the pile in his tiny arms. “You’re such a helper to get Polly’s too.”
Dax beamed with delight over his accomplishment while Polly searched my face for an answer.
“It was like Nat King Cole,” I finally said.
“What?”
“Unforgettable.”
*
After an hour of yoga my body felt exhausted from the late night and early workout, but it was a good kind of exhaustion. I collected Dax from the gym daycare and we decided to grab some lunch at his favorite milkshake spot, the Wilcox Drug Store and Soda Fountain.
As we walked to the back of the busy drugstore, Tuffy was quick to say hello.
“How’s it going, big man?”
“Good,” Dax replied. “I’m getting a grilled cheese and a milkshake.”
“Let’s wait to order, okay Dax?”
“Nothing wrong with a man knowing what he wants. Isn’t that right, Dax?” Tuffy asked with a grin.
We hustled to a booth in the back to order, and Dax told me all about the playroom happenings at the gym. “Dax?” I asked. “How would you feel about having a daddy someday?”
“I have a daddy. He’s in heaven.”
“Yes, he is,” I agreed. “And he’s watching over you every single day. But what if you had another daddy here on earth to watch over you too?”
“I would like that. When are we getting the new daddy?”
I laughed and wiped the grilled cheese crumbs from his face. “We may never get a new daddy, but if we find someone, someday… anyway, I just wondered what you might think about that.”
“Okay. But I get to pick him.”
“How about if it ever happens, we pick him together.”
“Okay, Mommy.”
It was getting close to afternoon naptime and I was pretty sure I was going to need some beauty sleep myself. We finished up and paid our bill, stopping only to say goodbye to Tuffy on our way out the door.
“How was the milkshake, Dax?” Tuffy asked.
“It was good,” Dax replied, looking to me for direction. I raised my eyebrows giving him the say thank you look. “Thank you.”
“I like a young man with manners, Mr. Dax. Thank you for being so polite,” said Tuffy.
“We better get going. It’s getting close to nap time, and we don’t want to have a meltdown.”
“Who’s gonna meltdown?” Tuffy asked. “You or Dax?”
“Probably me.”
“Hey,” Tuffy said as I was just out the door. “I didn’t know you knew Mac Callahan.”
“My grandmother and his mother are in the same nursing home. That’s all,”
I said, holding Dax’s hand to keep him from running to the car.
“Ah, okay.”
“Why?”
“He really hasn’t come home that much since his dad died a few years back. I was just surprised to see him. Maybe even more surprised to see him with you.”
“What do you mean?” Dax tugged on my arm to leave, but I stood my ground, wondering where Tuffy was going with this.
“Nothing. He’s a good guy. Comes from a great family.”
“Bye, Tuffy.”
As I walked to the car I couldn’t decide if Tuffy was warning me or judging me. Once again, the widow couldn’t even look at a man, but the widower could be screwing the entire town and it would be considered grief therapy.
Refusing to let Tuffy’s comments make me crazy, Dax and I drove home and I put him down for a nap in his big boy room with two twin beds. I crawled into the other bed for only a moment and found myself drifting off to a dreamland filled with nothing but Mac.
13
MAC
Finally opening my eyes, I rolled over and smelled the pillow next to me. Samantha still lingered in my bed. I felt bad. She was up early, out of here and off to the gym before my feet even thought about hitting the ground. I got up and stretched, checking out my naked body in the full-length mirror. I had to admit, even I was impressed with my performance last night.
Three times, baby. I might be thirty-two, but I still got it. I couldn’t take all the credit. Samantha was so hot in her silk panties with the strings. She kept her pearls on the entire evening. I’ll never look at those pearls around her neck in the same way again.
I turned on the shower and was ready to step in when I thought better of it. I wanted to work out first. Besides, I didn’t want to wash away my evening with Sam just yet. Turning off the water, I looked for clothes in the massive drawers that covered one side of the room. My Rolex and ring sat on the dresser next to my black boxer briefs. Samantha had picked up around the room this morning and it made me smile.
After finding shorts and a sleeveless shirt, I tied my cross trainers and headed downstairs hoping Miss Celia would have fresh orange juice and no questions for me about last night.
“Good morning,” I chimed as I bounded into the kitchen, my good mood bouncing in my every step.
“Good morning, baby,” sang Miss Celia. “How did you sleep?”
“Great, thank you.”
Sliding into the chair at the breakfast table as I’d so many times before, I poured myself a glass of OJ. Miss Celia joined me at the table and stared through me. I acted as if I didn’t notice her judgmental glare and picked up the Saturday paper to read the sports section, but she was relentless, burning a hole in me. Finally, I dropped the paper. “What?”
“How was your evening, McKay Waverly Callahan?”
Since she’d opted for the three word name, I had a feeling I was in a spot of trouble. “It was wonderful, Miss Celia. Your dinner was spectacular. Sorry we didn’t get out of the gazebo until it was too late. It’s probably a mess out there, huh?”
“No, we got it cleaned up first thing this morning,” she replied, still staring me down.
“Well,” I paused, picking up my paper. “Be sure to thank Randall again for me.”
Miss Celia’s hand came down in the middle of my newspaper, demanding my attention.
“Yes?” I asked with a laugh.
“Now you know I don’t like to get all up in your business.”
“I have a feeling you’re gonna….”
“That young lady took a cab home,” Celia said in a huff.
“That was not what I wanted, Miss Celia. I fell asleep and she didn’t wake me.”
“You listen here. I don’t know what y’all do up in Washington, D.C., but in Shadeland, Alabama, you take your date home. You don’t let her slink off early the next morning.”
I knew I couldn’t argue with her or her logic. In fact, I agreed with her. “It won’t happen again,” I promised. “In fact, I think I’ll send her something over today as an apology. What do you suggest?”
“A young man that won’t let her travel by cab at five in the morning.” Miss Celia barked the words out and left the table in a snit.
“Actually, that’s not a bad idea.”
I took my orange juice to the study, deciding to make a few phone calls before my workout.
First, I called Jack in Montgomery to make plans for my evening with Sam, then the local wine shop. I wanted a special picnic basket and I gave them all the specifics, including what time I would pick it up.
Then I called Randall. Celia was right. Sam needed a man who wouldn’t let her take a cab. I explained to him what I had in mind and he was more than happy to again join the Lone Oak staff on a full time basis.
“Here’s the thing, Randall,” I said. “I need you to keep this just between the two of us.”
“No problem, sir.”
“I’ll send you the information you’ll need later today.”
“Thank you, sir. I appreciate being back at Lone Oak. It’s not the same working anywhere else.”
“My pleasure, Randall. Glad to have you back.”
I quickly checked my emails. There wasn’t anything that couldn’t wait. Besides, I really wanted to drag out the investigation as long as I could. Hell, I might even take a little vacation time—I hadn’t had one in two years.
I went downstairs to the lower level of the house to run on the elliptical instead of hitting the pavement outside. I did five miles and toweled off, heading for the free weights. My legs were dead from last night’s activities, but it was a good feeling. I did arms and back, reserving legs and abs for tomorrow.
Snagging a towel, I headed outside for a swim and maybe a nap by the pool. It was only one, and I had until six-thirty to run errands, shower and pick up Samantha.
I dove in, thinking about doing a few laps, but decided against it once the cool water hit my body. I needed rest. I climbed out, immediately throwing myself into a lounge chair, drinking in the warm sunshine. My eyelids were heavy and the heat on my skin was hypnotic.
“Sir?”
I looked up, confused to see Randall. “Yes?”
“Sorry to wake you, sir.”
“That’s okay. I must’ve dozed off. What time is it anyway?”
“It’s four o’clock.”
“Damn,” I mumbled, sitting up and pulling the beach towel around my arms. “I didn’t mean to sleep this long.”
“I have the number, sir,” he said, showing me the new iPhone box.
“Great, Randall, thank you. So you understand exactly what I want. Right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The Range Rover will be at your disposal,” I said as I stood from the lounge chair.
We shook hands and Randall left. It was one thing off my list for the day. Now I needed to chat with Miss Celia. I didn’t want the sun to go down on the day without patching things up with her, and I was hoping a little sweet talk would go a long way in making amends.
“Miss Celia?” I called as I walked through the side door into the large gourmet kitchen she loved to call home.
“Yes, baby. It’s hot out there today. Did you want some sweet tea?”
“No, I’m good,” I answered, sitting on a tall stool by the bar area. “I just wanted to tell you that I won’t make the same mistake with Miss Peterson twice. And I’m sorry it even happened once.”
She nodded. “Well, alright then.”
“You’re absolutely right. This isn’t D.C., and I need to remember that.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
“Also, Miss Celia, I wanted you to know that I’ve added Randall back to the full-time staff.”
“Okay,” she said with a nod, as she leaned against the thick marble countertops and crossed her arms in agreement.
“He’s gonna do some work specifically for me, but you’ll be his everyday supervisor. I thought you could use a little extra help around here.”
She smiled. I knew she couldn’t stay mad at me. “Thank you, baby. And I know Randall thanks you too.”
“I’m grateful for all you do,” I said, looking to the floor. Expressing my feelings had never been my strong suit with the people I loved. It was something I’d vowed to work on. “I just don’t tell you enough.”
I hugged her tightly and gave her a kiss on the cheek before leaving the room.
“Mac,” she began, calling me back. “Samantha seems like a lovely young lady.”
“She is.”
“I like her, and I wanted to tell you.”
“It’s nice of you to say so.”
I sprinted up the stairs to my room to find it clean of all used candles, clothes and sheets. I stripped down from my shorts and turned on the shower. Looking at myself in the mirror, I could see where I’d gotten a little sun on my face and chest. I always did look better as a Southern boy.
I showered, taking extra time to shave twice—onc
e with the grain of my beard, and once against it. I wanted a clean, extra-close shave tonight. I had plans for Samantha.
I dressed in my favorite broken-in 501 Levis. The buttons could be cumbersome, but the ladies always seemed to like them, and I was hoping Sam would agree. Hurriedly, I chose a grey T-shirt and slipped on my boat shoes, working each foot into the leather as I walked across the floor. I slid my ring on, and opened my top drawer to choose a watch. Without hesitating, I put the Breitling on my wrist as I snagged the keys to Pussy sitting on my dresser. I made a quick pit stop in the study to select an old book that was one of Dad’s favorites from the vast library that filled the walls. Tossing it in the back seat, I hit the road.
I sped into town with the top down and aviators on. I changed the CD and had Bob Seger blasting as I drove to the wine shop, mentally making plans for the night. As I arrived, I prayed I could get in and out quickly. Saturday nights at a liquor store were always busy in a small town.
“How are you, Mr. Callahan?” I was greeted before I had a chance to remove my sunglasses and adjust my eyes.
“I’m good, thank you,” I replied. It was always a little awkward when I came home. I never remembered anyone. I was, however, a huge fan of the nametag.
“We have your order ready, sir.”
“Great… Adam.”
“Everything should be in there, sir. I double-checked the order myself. Beef tenderloin, crab cakes, grilled asparagus, pasta salad with broccoli and prosciutto, and chocolate-covered strawberries. There are two bottles of 1961 Chateau Margaux and a 1983 Dom Perignon. Plates, glasses, napkins, silverware…”
“Wonderful,” I said with a wide grin, handing him my credit card.
I signed the slip and picked up the heavy wicker picnic basket. I could’ve asked Miss Celia to pack dinner for us, but after her stellar performance last night, I wanted to give her the night off.
I checked my watch and I was right on schedule to pick up Sam. I drove the rural road to the old Peterson place and turned into the lane. The property was beautiful. An older home that was once part of a larger plantation, I knew the house wasn’t quite as old as Lone Oak, but it was close. Both homes had survived the Civil War, which was saying a lot in the South.
