by Carian Cole
He nods and takes a deep, long recovering breath. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
He lifts me up and places me back on the ground on my feet again. “You’re beautiful,” he says, pushing my hair over my shoulder. “I couldn’t wait to see you again today. I’ve never felt like that about a client before.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I reach down to pick up my bag, my hand shaking. I want to believe I’m shaking from standing out in the cold, but I know it has nothing to do with the cold and everything to do with the affect he’s having on me.
“Maybe to find out if you felt it, too?”
I can’t hide my smile as I look at this insanely gorgeous guy in front of me. Insanely gorgeous young guy. That I have no business to be making out with in a dark parking lot like a teenager.
“Lukas . . .” I can’t lie to him. He’s way too honest to be fed lies to. I refuse to not acknowledge the immense good I see in him, even after only a few hours of talking. “You are an amazing guy. Really. In a different time or place . . . I would be jumping up and down over you. I felt it, too. As much as I was excited about the tattoo, I was equally excited to see you again. There’s something very special about you. But . . . I’m a mess.” I shrug and his smile slowly fades, as I’m sure mine is, as well. “I just can’t have any more complications in my life right now. I have to get my life together and take care of my kids. I am in no position to be doing this with someone like you.”
He flinches. “Someone like me?”
I touch his arm and shake my head. “I meant young like you. We’re in totally different places in life.”
“I was in your place in life a long time ago, Ivy. Way before I should have been. Don’t judge me by my age or think I’m some immature kid.”
“I know you’re not. I can see that. Trust me.”
He shoves his hands in his pockets and shakes his head. “I’m not going to keep you here to argue this out. I know you have to go, and I don’t want your daughter to be worried.” He leans down and kisses my cheek. “Drive safe, and I’ll see you at your next appointment.” I breathe in the scent of him before he pulls away. He smells so good—a mix of incense from the shop and his cologne.
“Thank you for dinner,” I murmur. “I really enjoyed talking with you and getting to know you.”
“Same here, Sunshine. You have no idea how much. My dinner invitation stands—any time you’re ready to accept it.”
I get in my car and watch him walk around to the other side of the building, away from the shop entrance, so I assume the door to his apartment must be over there. Squinting in the dark, I see there is a balcony off the side of the building that I didn’t notice before. A new light turns on upstairs, and he walks by the window, pulling his shirt over his head. Even in the shadows, I can see how muscular he is. Great, Ivy. Don’t be a voyeur now, on top of everything else.
Regret fills me as the light goes out, and I wonder if he’s in his bed right now, if he’s thinking about me. I wish I could have gone upstairs with him and spent more time with him. Somehow, he makes everything feel better. Even just talking to him, I felt relaxed, happy, more myself. More like the girl I used to be . . . Like Charlene is now, as Paul so aptly pointed out. At least I don’t scrape plaque for a living, Charlene.
And guess what else, Charlene. Paul will never kiss you the way Lukas just kissed me. That much I know without a doubt.
I start my car and turn the heat on, giving it a few minutes to warm up. I’m still breathless and reeling from his kisses and feeling his hard body pressing against mine. My panties are wet from wanting him so much. As I stare up at his window, my mind wanders to the feel of his piercings against my soft flesh, and now I know why some women squeal over men with piercings. What that must feel like in other places . . .
My cell phone rings, the noise scaring me out of my daydream. I dig it out of my purse and see it’s my home number on the caller I.D.
“Hi, Macy,” I answer cheerfully.
“Mom, where are you? It’s after ten.” Role reversal can happen so unexpectedly.
“I know, honey. I’m so sorry,” I say, flustered. “My appointment lasted longer than I expected. I’m on my way home. I’ll be there in less than half an hour.” I pull out of the parking lot, hoping Lukas doesn’t see I was still sitting in my car watching his windows.
“Well, why did I have to come home if you were staying out late?” my daughter demands. “I could have stayed out with my friends longer.”
Jesus. My first night out after dark practically, and I’m already battling with my teenager.
“Because you’re supposed to be home at ten. That’s why.”
She sighs in exasperation. “Seriously, Mom, I’m almost eighteen. None of my friends have to be home by ten. It’s totally lame. Now that Dad is gone, can you just like, forget that and let me stay out later? I don’t drink or anything. We just hang out and talk or get coffee.”
“Macy, your father is not gone. We’re separated, but he is still your father, and your curfew was his rule.”
“Yeah, Dad isn’t exactly great at sticking to the rules himself, now is he?”
Grinding my teeth, I try to pay attention to the road as the familiar pounding in my head returns. “We talked about those comments, Macy. I know this is difficult. It is for all of us.”
“Not for Dad, just the rest of us.”
I silently agree with her. Paul got to move in with Charlene the Great, and meanwhile, the kids and I have been thrown into a mess we don’t want to be in.
“Sweety, I know. Things will get better.”
“Tomorrow, I’m supposed to hang out with Shelly. Can I at least stay out ’til midnight? Or can she come here? We’re going to do a Vampire Diaries marathon.”
Crap. Tomorrow night I’m supposed to have dinner with Tim, a guy I work with. He cornered me in the break room every day for two weeks until I agreed to go out with him. I refuse, however, to consider it a date. When I agreed to have dinner with him, I figured it would shut him up for a few days, and then I could cancel a few days before, telling him I had to do something with the kids. And of course, I’ve had such a week from hell that I forgot to do that, so now it would be rude to call him tomorrow morning and cancel at the last minute, especially when I have to see him every day. You would think, with me working in Human Resources, I would know better than to ever agree to engage in any kind of out-of-office experience, which, oddly enough, the company I work for does not have a policy against. I make a mental note to bring that up at the next staff meeting.
“Mom? Hello? Are you even listening to me?”
“Yes, I just remembered I have to go out tomorrow night for work, so why don’t you have Shelly over? She can sleep over if she wants.”
“Awesomeness! I’m gonna go call her right now. Love ya.” She ends the call, done with me.
Later that night, as I’m sitting on the bed applying lotion to my tattoo and admiring how beautiful it is, the memory of Lukas’ hands lingering on my leg as he worked on me, how little electric tingles raced up my spine at his touch, come to the forefront of my mind. I haven’t felt like that in so very long, if ever at all. I wanted him to keep touching me, and I wanted to get my hands all over him, too. I wonder if tattoos cover his entire body. What would it feel like to glide my hands over those muscles and twist my fingers in his long hair?
As I’m getting into bed, I find a tiny black feather on my pillow. Frowning, I pick it up, wondering where it came from. I open my nightstand drawer and tuck it into the corner. It’s too pretty to throw away.
Snuggling under the sheets, I’m exhausted but unable to fall asleep because I can’t get these thoughts of Lukas out of my head. I can’t understand why he’s interested in me. Could it be some sort of joke? He really didn’t strike me as the game playing type, though. I can’t help but wonder why someone like him would be interested in me? I’m old, boring, and I have stretch marks. I have two kids. Clean laundry is the
highlight of my weekend, and my life is a mess. Why would a hot young guy want anything to do with any of that? It makes zero sense.
Despite all that, I can’t deny that I really like him. He’s sweet, considerate, talented, and definitely knows how to kiss. I never thought a kiss could make me feel so much, not just within myself, but to actually be able to feel emotion coming from him as he kissed me. It was nothing short of incredible. I would have loved to go upstairs with him to kiss him all night, but I doubt it would have stopped there, and I’m not ready to be getting naked in front of anyone. I don’t think I’ll ever be. My own husband didn’t even want to have sex with me, so I’m pretty sure Lukas would be repulsed by me.
Rolling over onto my side, I decide all I have to do is get through one, possibly two more appointments, and then I won’t have to see him anymore, which is probably for the best. Then this little excursion of random excitement will be over, and I can go back to my boring life as a pending thirty-something divorcee with no life.
IVY
THE NEXT DAY, WHEN I DRAG my ass out of my bed and go down to the kitchen for coffee, I find Macy staring out the kitchen window like a rabid animal.
“Holy hell, Mom,” she says excitedly when she sees me. “That snow guy you hired is so cute!”
Snow guy? Confused, I watch her go to the refrigerator and grab a bottle of water as she continues talking. “I’m going to go bring him some water because he looks hot and dehydrated. But mostly hot.”
“What? What snow guy?” I ask her, still not following the conversation. “Macy, what are you talking about?” She skips out the back door before I have a chance to stop her and get some answers.
I didn’t even hire a handyman yet, so I assume that Paul sent someone over here to take care of the shed roof, to let himself off the hook. I grab my coffee cup, hoping Paul is paying this guy so I don’t have to, and look out the window to see my daughter talking to a very muscular young man with long black hair just past his shoulders, wearing a black thermal shirt, faded jeans, and workboots, who’s standing next to our shed with a shovel. I can see the tattoos on his hands from here.
Oh, damn. It’s Lukas.
What the—?
I watch as my beautiful daughter flirts with him, playing with her hair, and standing way too close to him. She’s wearing a tight sweater, her favorite jeans, and big fuzzy boots. She tilts her head, giggling at something he’s saying. They actually look really cute next to each other.
Oh no. This cannot be happening.
I feel like a squirrel in the middle of the road with an oncoming car, going this way and then that way and then the other way again. Total confusion of epic proportions.
Should I be feeling jealous? No. But I do.
Should I be glad that a guy as nice, talented, and caring as Lukas might be interested in my daughter’s attention? Yes. He’d definitely treat her a lot better than the last boy she dated, who I caught trying to sneak into her bedroom like a little perv. I kicked his ass right out of here.
But I don’t want Lukas interested in my daughter for any reason, because all I can think of is how he kissed me, and the passion I saw in his eyes, and how he made my legs weak. I can’t even think about him making my daughter feel that way, because I want him for myself, not to mention that I don’t want my little girl feeling that way until she’s at least thirty.
I watch him from the window for signs of flirting with Macy, but I don’t see any, and I’m ashamed to admit that I’m glad.
And what is he doing at my house anyway? How does he even know where I live?
I want to go out there and interrupt them, but I can’t because Macy will be furious and embarrassed if I do that when she’s so obviously flirting with him. A sick feeling creeps over me as I think about what my daughter would say if she knew Lukas and I were friends, and possibly a little bit more. This is definitely not a situation I ever thought I would be in.
Feeling guilty, I watch them talking until she spins around and comes back inside, smiling from ear to ear.
She playfully fans herself with her hand as she comes through the door. “Wow, is he hot. Did you see the body on him, Mom?” My God. When did my daughter start thinking about men like this? She was five only yesterday. Wasn’t she?
I smile weakly from behind my coffee cup. “Macy, he’s a friend of mine. He’s my tattoo artist.”
Her jaw falls open in shock. “Oh my God, Mom, are you kidding me right now?”
“Nope.”
She pounces into a chair at the breakfast table. “Mom! Can you talk to him for me? Kinda set us up or something? I was hoping he’d ask for my number, but he didn’t.” Her face turns into a pout, just like it did when she was a little girl. “Is he single? Do you know?”
The awkwardness of this entire conversation makes me queasy. “I think he is, honey, but I think he might be a little too old for you. He’s in his twenties.” And too young for me, I remind myself.
She rolls her eyes. “The boys my age are lame, Mom. And they don’t have bodies like him. And those tats! Not to mention his hair and those eyes. And that lip piercing. He’s amazing.”
All true, but I simply cannot even contemplate any of this with my daughter. Talking about men, and being attracted to the same man? No. Just no.
I knew that by having her when I was just eighteen I would always be a young mom, but I am definitely not prepared to hear my teen daughter talk about how sexy a man is, especially one that just kissed me practically senseless the night before and I’m still swooning over. I blame this new mess on Paul. His lust for Charlene has put us all in awkward positions.
Macy jumps to her feet. “I’m gonna go upstairs to call Shelly and tell her about him. I’m gonna snap a pic of him from my bedroom window to show her.”
“Macy, don’t do that!” I yell as she bounds for the stairway, but it’s too late. She’s already gone.
I grab a sweatshirt that’s draped over one of the kitchen chairs, step into a pair of boots that are by the back door, and walk out to the back yard to find out what Lukas is up to.
“Hi . . . What are you doing here?” I ask, squinting against the sun as I approach him.
Smiling, he points to the shed, like I didn’t know it was there. “I fixed it.”
“I can see that, and it’s really nice of you to do, but why? You shouldn’t be doing things like this for me. You’re not a handyman.”
He shrugs and wipes his face with a bandanna. “I just wanted to do something for you. Now, you don’t have to worry about it. It took like ten minutes. No big deal.”
Again, he’s melting my heart. “That’s incredibly sweet but totally not necessary. I could have found someone to do it.”
He takes a sip from the bottle of water that Macy gave him. “Now you won’t have to.” He nods toward the house. “You have a really nice house. It’s big. Very suburbs.”
“I honestly appreciate you doing this, but really, you didn’t have to. And as you can see, my teenage daughter has developed an insta-crush on you.”
He twists the top back on the water bottle and actually blushes a little. “She’s cute but too young for me. I like older women, one in particular,” he tilts his head toward me with that adorable crooked smile on his face.
How does he make me feel so wanted with just a few words and a smile? “Lukas, this cannot happen. I feel really bad that you came over here to do this, and I’m going to pay you.”
He scrunches up his face. “No way. You can pay me by going out with me tonight.”
I cross my arms. “I have plans tonight.”
His eyes narrow at me suspiciously. “Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“Okay, then,” he says, looking unhappy. “How about Sunday night?”
Damn, he’s persistent! “I can’t. My son is coming home from his father’s.”
“Next week then? Any night. You pick.”
I laugh and shake my head. “I give you credit for your persiste
nce, but I can’t. I like you, I really do. I just can’t. My daughter thinks you’re hot. I can’t even wrap my head around what she would say if she knew I went out with you. It’s way too strange for me.”
He turns to close the shed door and latches it, giving me a great view of his broad back. I love how his hair falls down past his shoulders and his butt looks amazing in those faded jeans. He turns around to face me again, and I quickly look away. “Ivy, it doesn’t have to be strange. Just tell her the truth. She’ll be okay.”
“What truth? There is no truth.”
He reaches for my hand, holding it in the warmth of his. “The truth that I’m interested in you, and hopefully, you feel the same way. I mean, you were just checking out my ass, so that must mean something, right?” he teases.
Pulling my hand away, I glance uneasily up at Macy’s bedroom window, hoping she’s not taking pictures and uploading them to the interwebs. “Lukas, please. I can’t do displays of affection from a stranger in front of my kids. They’re confused enough already over their father and his new girlfriend. And I was not checking out your ass.”
“You can’t punish yourself for what he did. He’s enjoying his life. You’re allowed to do the same. Eventually, your kids will see you with another man, just like they’re seeing him with another woman. I know it sucks, but unless you plan to stay single for the rest of your life, which would be a total fucking shame, then you have to let your kids see you around other men.”
“I know that, but . . .”
He pulls a pack of gum out of his pocket and pops a piece into his mouth. “But what?” he asks “Is it me you don’t want them to see you with?”
I stare off for a moment before answering. “They would have a hard time with it,” I admit, trying to envision introducing him to my kids.
Leaning his back against the shed, he blows a bubble, pops it, and looks at me. “With it? With me? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?”
