I laugh and push her a little bit back, seeing the worry twisting with the excitement in her eyes. “Honey, first, stop worrying. Second, let’s get out of here. I didn’t mean to sleep this late.”
Whitney's still anxious as we leave my bungalow and head toward the resort's pool area, a waste of concrete if I've ever heard of one when the entire resort is on the edge of a beautiful ocean, but whatever. I get a fruit juice in a bottle and a tuna crudo wrap from the little grill that's there while Whitney gets just a fruit juice. “So where's Laurie?”
“Off playing with Greg,” Whitney says, waving. “Honestly, I think she's got her first crush. But Dani did say that she was a total angel last night.”
“That's good,” I reply, gesturing toward the beach. “Shall we?”
Ironically, the beach that Whitney walks toward is the same one that Cory and I made love on last night, and I smile as the familiar sand flows over my sandals and in between my toes. “So how'd you find out?”
“Well, finding Cory outside your door this morning when I came to ask if you'd like some breakfast pretty much was the last piece of the puzzle,” Whitney says, chuckling. “He was dropping off that note that I saw you holding when you opened the door. Can I ask?”
“Yes, we were together last night. I don't think you need more details than that though, do you?”
Whitney shakes her head, chuckling. “No, Mom, I don't need more details than that. Can I ask, though, how'd it start? I mean, I know yesterday was magic, but you never have been a one-night-stand type of woman. At least, not to my knowledge.”
I take a bite of my wrap and nod, watching the waves lapping at the sand, and take a seat on the beach. “Actually, sweetheart, it sort of started years ago, a few months after you went to Europe, the day after the Winter Formal. Have a seat, and I'll tell you things I really should have a while ago.”
Chapter 11
Cory
I'm still walking on clouds when I knock on the door of Patricia's bungalow for our dinner. When she opens the door, I'm stunned again at just how beautiful she is, even after spending most of the day together. “Wow . . .”
She looks down at the simple tropical shift that she's wearing, then looks at me and smiles. “Wow yourself. You look positively dashing.”
“I tried. So are you ready?”
“I've been looking forward to this,” she tells me, entwining her arm with mine. “Our second real date.”
“I couldn’t help but keep thinking that maybe last night was . . . just last night.”
She stops and tugs on my arm. “I hope not.”
We reach our table, having a seat in the corner. Across the room, there's a few of the other guests, but the space around us is pretty clear. The waiter lights the candles and dims the lights, and we're more or less alone.
“Patricia, before we get started, there’s one thing I wanted to bring up just to clear the air. I don’t know how else to say it, so I’m just going to come out with it. You're still active in a church that's pretty conservative. Are you okay with the two of us being intimate?”
Patricia smiles and blushes a bit. “You're right. When we first met, I was much more conservative than I am now. I talked about this, kind of, with Whitney soon after she and Troy got back together. Maybe I should have talked with you about it too.”
“I'm listening,” I say, leaning in. “I want to hear everything you want to say.”
“Years ago, I probably would’ve had more reservations against it, but time changes us, and I think for the better. I’ve realized that a lot of the faith that I was hanging onto was hollow. It was a shield to prevent me from being hurt. But it was also pushing away people who could have been special to me. It pushed away Whitney, really. When she found out she was pregnant, she panicked and started talking about going away—crap I’m sure I filled her head with for years. And what I should have done was hang onto her and been her mother, the rock for her to lean on. Now, I'm not saying I’m not still faithful. I think that if anything, what happened between Troy and Whitney makes me even more so. But I also know that I need to think more about what will make me happy.”
Patricia pauses, then looks down. “Sorry. We've gone a long time without me mentioning my faith a lot, and I know that was a bit of a dump.”
I squeeze her fingers and shake my head, smiling. “That's fine. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t stressing out over it.”
“I've decided not to,” Patricia says, her eyes smoldering again. “I want to live. I want to enjoy life again. You make me feel like a woman again, not just an office manager, and certainly not just a mother.”
“You’re a beautiful woman,” I reassure her. “I've always thought so.”
She blushes lightly, and as we eat our dinners, we exchange little smiles, both of us enjoying the easy tension building between us. “So today, I told Whitney . . . you know.”
“I know. I wish I'd been there, but I had fun with Troy. The beach is nice in the morning, and it was nice to have someone to work up a sweat with.”
Patricia sets her fork down and laughs softly, confusing me. “Sorry. Just, you've made enough San Francisco jokes in phone calls and emails that sometimes, I read double entendres into what you say, even if you're not meaning to.”
I realize what I just said and chuckle. “Good point. I still have quite a bit of wiseass in me, even if it is a lot more tempered than it was when we met.”
“Like most high schoolers, and like I was back when I was eighteen,” Patricia says. “But back to me and Whitney. At the end, she said something that thrilled me.”
“She's buying you a new house?” I tease, and Patricia shakes her head. “Sorry. What did she say?”
“She called you my boyfriend—something I never thought I would have again. And the thought of being someone’s girlfriend is alien to me. But can I tell you one other thing, something I should have told you a long time ago? You’ve said multiple times that you wanted to make yourself worthy of me.”
“I have.”
“Well, I'm telling you now,” she says, leaning close enough that I lean forward, and our lips are only a few inches apart. She lowers her voice, quiet and intense and moving. “You don’t have to do that—you never did. You’re an amazing man with brains and a body to go along with it. In fact, I’m thinking we should skip dessert and go back to my bungalow.”
I lean forward another inch, and we kiss, her lips tender and arousing. Her tongue comes out to flicker against mine, and as we sit back, I nod, not letting go of her hand. “What if I stay the night? It's our last night on the island, and well . . .”
She smiles as I help her up, standing on her tiptoes to whisper in my ear. “Only if you promise to give me a little morning surprise.”
“That I can promise.”
The dock is warm, and as I stand there holding her hand, I can't help but feel a little sad. “It's going to be a rough twenty hours. Seven here without you, then thirteen on the flights back to San Fran.”
“Tell me about it,” she says, looking beautiful in her white sundress. “This has been, well, perfect. But you know why I'm not upset?”
“Why?” I ask as I see the seaplane circle the resort before touching down in the bay. “There's your plane.”
Patricia glances as the silver airplane circles once, but she turns back to me quickly, not concerned at all. “I'm not upset because I'm looking forward to the future now. You're coming up to Silver Lake Falls over the Fourth holiday, right?”
I nod, smiling. “One of the nice parts of working in banking is that I can't do too much when the markets are closed. Not that there aren't other things, but PacFran's giving everyone a three-day weekend, and we don't even have to use our vacation days for it. Actually, I have to remember to do something when I get back to San Francisco.”
“What's that?” she asks, curious.
“I'm going to trade in my beater of a car. I mean, it's been fine for the few trips I've made, but I hav
e a feeling I’m going to be driving up to Portland more often.”
The plane pulls up to the dock, and the resort help quickly ties it down. “Ten minutes, folks,” the staffer says, dragging over the hose and starting the refueling. “This is a pickup-only run.”
Patricia and I step back, and she puts her arms around my waist. “So . . . ten minutes.”
“Not enough time for what I'd like to do,” I tease, pulling her close. “I need at least fifteen.”
“I could totally go for that,” she replies, squeezing my butt. We sit there, enjoying each other’s company for the little time we have left until the staffer interrupts us. “I'll call you Monday.”
Patricia smiles and nods, giving me one more quick peck. “Monday night. I'm looking forward to it.”
After the plane takes off, I watch it disappear into the horizon, waving the whole time. Sure, I know I look like an idiot. She probably can't see me after thirty seconds or so, but I don't care. When the plane is gone, I turn around and see Troy, Whitney and Laurie, who have apparently been watching. “Oh, hey.”
Whitney gives Troy a look, and he takes off with Laurie, leaving me and Whitney on the dock. It's the first time she and I have had a chance to really talk since the wedding.
“So, Whit.”
“So, Cory.”
“I know I need to say sorry about not filling you in. Patricia told me she apologized to you, but I guess I should too. The last bit of deception was my fault.”
Whitney crosses her arms and smirks. “I know. I'm not mad though. It was pretty funny and sweet.”
We walk side by side up the dock, back toward the main part of the resort. “It's weird now. I mean, I fly out tonight, and I've still got a little over six hours until my plane, but I wish I weren’t here right now.”
Whitney nods and looks around. “I'm still good for a while. Another three days here, then Troy and I head back to Jacksonville for a little while before our summer vacation in Silver Lake Falls.”
We get to where the path splits off to the bungalows, while Troy and Laurie are visible on the other arm of the path. “Hey, Mama! You wanna play disc golf?”
Whitney waves back, smiling. “Just a minute, honey! You and Daddy go pick out a Frisbee for me.”
I give Whitney a smile and start heading toward my bungalow when I hear her call.
“Cory, wait! One last thing.”
“What’s that?”
“If this turns out to be something really serious, I’m not calling you stepdad.”
Chapter 12
Patricia
I can't help myself. I'm humming as I sit at my desk, typing away at my computer. Normally, the monthly account books are a chore, something I slog through, grumbling the whole time. Trevor Bana may run a busy construction company, but construction workers in general are terrible with things like account books and turning in receipts. I can't even begin to give an estimate on the number of mangled, marked up, crumpled up and generally illegible papers I've gotten in the past year alone from the guys.
“It conquers all . . .” I sing softly, squinting as I try to figure out if the receipt I'm holding is for a bag of lime chalk or a six-pack of lime Coke. Ah well, it doesn't matter. It's small enough that I can lump it in with the petty cash fund, and so I do, tossing it into the box for adding up later. “. . . but it's a mystery . . .”
The bell over the door dings, and I look up to see Jimmy Hayes, the owner of Silver Lake Flowers, come in with a delivery. “Well, hello, Jim. What're you doing here?”
“Got a delivery,” Jimmy says, giving me a grin. He doesn't come by often, but in addition to flowers, Jimmy does deliveries for DHL as well, so he's not a stranger around the office either. “This time, for you.”
Jimmy takes out the small gift, an exquisite five-inch-tall crystal bear with a single gilt-edged crystal red rose in its hands, all inside a clear plastic case that protects it from bumps and other problems with delivery. “Whoa,” I say as I open the case, taking it out. “It's beautiful.”
“Oh, I forgot, there's a card too,” Jimmy says, taking an envelope from inside his jacket. “What's in five days?”
“The Fourth of July weekend,” I remind Jimmy, opening the envelope. The card is plain white, and inside is a simple message.
Five days. I can hardly wait.
I close the card and smile, leaning back in my chair. Jimmy watches me for a second, then chuckles. “You look like you're back in high school again, Patty.”
“Thanks, Jim. I guess . . . well, I am starting to feel eternal. Sounds weird, I know.”
“It’s not weird. You deserve it. All right, Patricia, you have yourself a good one.”
“Thanks, Jim. See you around.”
Jimmy leaves, and I look at Cory's gift for a minute, then I reach over and grab my phone.
Just got your gift. TY.
Cory messages back quickly, I guess he has his phone with him too.
Ur welcome. I had a request to go with it, but I wanted to ask in person.
What is it?
Well . . . would you mind having dinner at my parents' house over the weekend? Say Saturday night?
Um, sure. Anything special?
Just you.
And you. Now get back to work!
I set my phone back down and turn back to my report, plugging away at my keyboard. I lose track of time, my eyes cutting from time to time to Cory's gift, and I half smile as the music and the work blend. I finish my report and save it when the door to the office opens and Trevor comes in, not in a good mood. “Hello, Trevor. How was the job site?”
“Fucking terrible,” Trevor snaps, stomping his way across to my desk. “Goddamn idiots are spending more time jacking off than getting foundation laid. We're two fucking days behind and . . . what the fuck is that thing?”
I look where he's pointing, and I realize he's talking about my present. “Jim Hayes brought it by, a delivery for me. It's a present from my boyfriend.”
“The fuck . . .” Trevor stutters, then storms into his office. He slams the door, rattling the glass in the frame, and I shake my head. I’m not sure if he’s jealous in some sick way, or if he’s just in a bad mood with how things are going with the site.
I go back to my work, dismissing his tantrum and chalking it up to his frustration with the current job site when the door opens again, and Trevor comes out, holding a pile of folders. “Trisha, I need you to review these documents for the accountant before the weekend.”
I take a look and see that each of the contracts are for things months off at least, and I raise an eyebrow. “This is easily thirty hours of review. And there's no rush. Most of these don't even go into effect until next quarter and won't be on the accountant's radar for six months or more.”
“Well, maybe in your opinion, but I think differently. Besides, they shouldn't be a problem if you've got the free time to sit around the office singing and getting presents,” Trevor grumbles. “I expect them on my desk by eight in the morning Monday.”
He turns and walks out, closing the door behind him. I glance at the clock and take a deep breath, counting to ten. Okay, fine. Trevor wants to be a child about this, for some reason. I can deal with it. He wants me to review all of these in addition to my normal weekly workload. Fine.
But if he thinks he can ruin my weekend, especially when I have Cory coming up Friday evening? I don't think so.
I grab my phone again and send off a quick text.
Just got a bunch of work dumped in my lap. I might have to stay late tonight. Might not have much time to chat tonight.
What time should I give you a call?
Ten? Eleven?
That’s fine—just remember one thing.
What?
Five days.
Five days.
Seeing Cory step out of the baggage terminal at SeaTac, I jump out of my car and run over, throwing myself into his arms and planting a kiss on him. “Mmm, now that I've missed,” he says when we f
inally stop for breath and he sets me down. “I guess you missed me too.”
“You have no idea,” I reply, hugging him tightly. “I don’t know how we're going to get through August with no three-day weekends.”
I let go of Cory and laugh, taking his hand and pulling him toward my car.
Cory slides into the shotgun seat and looks around. “Nicer car than I've got. I still haven’t gotten something better.”
“By the way, I didn't really ask you . . . but where are you staying while in town?”
“With you,” he replies, giving me a smirk.
I smile back, reassured. “Probably going to be some uncomfortable questions tomorrow. There have been a few people talking around town. You know how small towns like Silver Lake Falls are.”
“Let them talk. There are only a few people whose opinions I care about. The rest of the world can go hang, or else we already have their support. What about you? Does it bother you?”
“My opinion is that I want to take you to bed and hold you for the rest of the night. I'll admit, after going till nearly midnight every day this week, I'm too tired for much else, but maybe tomorrow . . .”
Cory smirks, his eyes warm, blue fire.
I laugh and open my door. “Come on, Cory. I'm serious. I'm exhausted after work this week, but I do need you.”
“Good,” he says, getting out his side and slinging his big backpack around his shoulders before coming around to me. I get out, and he surprises me by sweeping me off my feet, carrying me in his arms toward the door.
“What are you doing?” I laugh, holding on, thrilled by his strength and playfulness.
“You're tired, and I’m taking you to bed. I promise, I'll behave until at least six in the morning.”
After a promised early morning quickie, we shower together and get dressed. Cory's back in jeans and a t-shirt, and as he brushes his hair, he chuckles. “This is the first time in two weeks that I’ve had a chance to wear jeans.”
Fourth Down Baby: A May-December Romance Page 9
