by B. N. Toler
I was heading to the front of the building, wanting to set everything up for that group so I could get them in and out of the sweatbox that was our office as fast as possible, when Sap walked in.
“Hey there, gorgeous,” he rasped, with a grin on his wrinkled face. “I have a surprise for you.”
I huffed out an exaggerated breath. “Please tell me you brought an AC repair man.”
“Nope,” he chuckled. He moved to the side and in entered Paul, incredibly tan and gorgeous. Paul gave a little wave, but I didn’t respond. Was I supposed to be excited he returned? Pfft. I didn’t even bother to acknowledge him before I continued about my business of preparing for our next clients.
“I think she really missed me, Sap,” Paul surmised with a humored tone.
Sap was wise enough not to comment. I think he just enjoyed watching Paul and me go at it sometimes.
I slammed the pens in my hand down on the table. “Welcome back, Paul!” I exclaimed as I threw my arms in the air flamboyantly. “I’m so happy you’ve returned to help us run this business. You know, the one you own half of.”
Paul sighed and leaned his head toward Sap. “She’s definitely happy I’m back.”
“You’re a real ass—”
“Hi,” a young woman squeaked as she peered around Paul and Sap.
“Well, hello,” Paul replied animatedly, greatly amused by the fact this woman interrupted my tirade.
“I’m Kim.” She waved. “We’re here for the jump.” She was a tall, thin woman with glasses who rocked some old jeans and Chucks. Four other women came in behind her, all fanning themselves, wincing with the heat.
“And who are these lovely ladies?” Paul asked, showcasing his amazing smile.
Kim pointed to each one as she introduced them. “This is Lindsay, Amy, Clare, and Gemma.”
“Look at that, Clara,” Paul beamed. “Her name is Clare. Clare and Clara.”
I gave him a look that said, you’re an idiot. Then smiled at the ladies. “Nice to meet you all.”
The one named Clare, who wore a shirt that said something about milking goats, said, “It’s hot as balls in here.”
“I should have worn something short sleeved,” Kim replied looking down at her outfit.
“You look like a fittie,” the one named Gemma, with big blue eyes and red hair, informed her in a British accent. “I love that shirt.” I liked her accent.
“I know,” Lindsay, the one in a Broncos T-shirt noted. “I want one.”
“I’ll buy you one,” Kim promised.
“I think I’m going to puke,” Amy volunteered. She looked extremely nervous as she clutched her paper coffee cup in her hand. “I’m terrified of heights.”
“Maybe you feel ill because you’re drinking coffee in the sweltering heat,” Lindsay noted with a humored snort.
“Whose idea was this anyway?” Gemma asked.
“Mine,” Lindsay admitted.
“I promise, we’ll take good care of you,” Paul assured them. Oh, good grief. Someone needed to gag me.
Lindsay gave a half smirk as she gave Paul a once-over and mumbled to Clare, “I hope he’s the one I tandem with.”
“Me too,” Gemma chuckled.
“Why does the word tandem sound so dirty?” Clare asked, her mouth twisted in thought.
The women went on as if we weren’t even there. Finally, I intervened. “If you ladies would like to sit down and fill out these disclaimers, we can get you set up and ready to go.”
They all took a seat. Filling out forms that should have taken them ten minutes took twenty as they discussed everything from skydiving to anal sex, to the best skin care products. When they started discussing something about a legion and the word moist, I was done. My patience was short that day, with the heat and Paul returning, so I had to keep reminding myself to chill out. Watching them didn’t help either. They were clearly dear friends. I missed my friends. It felt like forever since I’d seen Ally and Vanessa. I didn’t have any friends here. Except Paul. And of course as soon as we agreed to be friends, he kissed me and disappeared the next day. Not exactly an ideal friendship.
Paul led the ladies outside and just before Sap followed them, he turned to me and said, “You’re doing a good job here, Clara.”
The compliment shocked me. Sap had always been kind to me, when he wasn’t staring at my ass, but I just wasn’t expecting it. “Thank you,” I managed.
“Dennis would have really liked what you’ve done here.” I grimaced slightly with his words, but forced a smile. “He always wanted to do something for you, try and make it up to you in some way.”
My brows rose in shock. He knew who I was. He knew what Dennis did. “You’ve known this whole time?”
He nodded once. Stepping toward me, he put his hands on his hips and sighed. “This has always been a good business, ya know? Dennis did well here.” He nodded his head as he looked around. “But it was always missing something.” Then his gaze turned to me again. “I think you were the missing link.”
“Come on, Sap,” Paul shouted from outside. “Time to fly.”
“We can talk about it later if you’d like to.”
I gave a soft smile, unable to find words. My throat wasn’t tight with emotion. I wasn’t on the verge of tears. I was just . . . speechless. So I said nothing before he turned and left. Paul drove to the airpark with Sap and the group of women followed in their car, where they would meet Bowman and one of our other divers and I began closing up shop. Typically, the clients would come back to the office to collect their photos or videos, but I asked if I could mail them theirs. It was too hot to deal with that today. An hour later, as I was just about to leave, the phone rang.
“Hello?”
“Clara,” Paul rasped through ragged breaths.
“Yeah?”
“It’s Sap. He’s had a heart attack or something. The ambulance is taking him to the hospital now.”
My heart dropped. “Shit,” I gasped. “Is everyone else okay?”
“Yeah. It happened right before we took off. It’s lucky we weren’t in the air.”
I closed my eyes for a moment thanking whatever higher being there was for keeping everyone else safe. Then I asked that Sap be okay.
“I’ll meet you there.”
The funeral was lovely and as low-key as possible. The way Sap would have wanted it. There were only ten people that attended and to honor our departed friend and coworker, we hired a pilot for the day and sent the plane up with all of our divers and did a farewell dive to honor him. Paul attached Sap’s American flag he received for his military service to his parachute and it drifted beautifully as it glided toward the ground. We closed the office for a few days, needing to find a new pilot and rearrange the schedule. Sap would definitely be missed.
I worked, but Paul and Marcus stayed home. They took losing Sap hard. It hadn’t been long since he had passed so I understood they probably needed some time to mourn. I could not stand Marcus. At all. He was the thorn in my side then. But I decided to try my hand at showing him compassion. I went home and made two chicken and broccoli casseroles, wrapped them tightly in foil, and packed them in my car.
I didn’t even turn the car off when I pulled in front of Marcus’ place. I sat the pan on the mini porch by the door, knocked loudly, and rushed back to my car. I wasn’t trying to be a bitch. I just couldn’t take it if he acted like an asshole to me when I was trying to be nice. If he threw the food away after I left, I wouldn’t know and wouldn’t have to hate him for it. As I pulled out, I looked in the rearview mirror and saw him open his front door and step out on the porch, looking right at my car. Then looking down, he bent and picked the dish up, inspecting it, before looking to my car again. His expression said nothing. Was he touched by my gesture? Did he hate it? I didn’t know. When he turned and went back inside with the dish, I let out a long breath. No matter what—I tried. I did the right thing and if he decided to ignore my gesture, that was on him.
I had never been to Paul’s house before and I wasn’t surprised to find he lived in a small, simple house about thirty minutes from the office. The house was plain, which made sense for him. Why have a giant, nice house when you may just take off at any given moment with no idea when you’d return?
A part of me wanted to do the knock and run at Paul’s, too. That’s what I should have done. But I wanted to see him. I felt pathetic for it, but I did. So I told myself I would hand him the meal I’d made, but I would not go inside. No matter what. Bracing myself, I knocked on the door, anxious as all hell. We really hadn’t talked since he returned and believe me, I had plenty to say. But I bit my tongue. This was a time of mourning. My grievances with Paul could wait.
When he answered the door, I went mute.
Son of a bitch.
He was in nothing but his boxers.
I clutched the casserole in my arms and forced myself to blink. He squinted as if he had just woken and his hair was slightly mussed. But his body . . . I hated him. It was amazing. I had seen him with his shirt off before, but seeing him so bare in his boxers was different. It was so intimate. And suddenly I felt very vulnerable.
“Hi,” he rasped in a sleepy voice. Ugh, even his just-woke-up voice was sexy.
I licked my dry lips. “H-hi,” I stuttered. “I brought you some food.”
His gaze darted to the dish then to my eyes. “You did?”
“Um, yeah. Since you’re grieving and all. Thought you might like a meal.”
He stepped back and to the side, inviting me to enter. Knock and run had turned into knock and see, and now it was knock and visit. I failed. I stepped inside, and if I thought the outside of the house was plain, the inside was no exception. It was an open floor plan, the living room and kitchen all one room. He had a love seat and a small table closest to the kitchen, which could only seat two people. No television. No pictures or décor. He did, however, have a bike hanging from the ceiling, and a snowboard, skis, and skateboard that lined the wall.
Shutting the door behind me, he asked, “What is it?”
“Oh,” I replied nervously. I realized I was just staring at his house. “Nothing. It’s weird to see your house is all.” Ugh. Why did I say that?
He smirked, his dimples poking out. Stupid dimples. “Must be weird to see a house that isn’t in shambles,” he mocked.
I glared at him jokingly. “You’re just jealous of how much character my house has. Yours . . . is clearly lacking.”
“You’re right,” he played along. “I’m so jealous of a porch anyone over a hundred and ten pounds will crash through.”
“See?” I jested. “I knew it. Besides, the porch is sturdier now, remember?”
We both snickered. “Well, when I asked what it was I meant the dish in your hands. What is it?”
“Chicken and broccoli casserole.”
He walked to the kitchen and opened the fridge, pulling out a Coke. I noticed several Country Crock containers on the shelves in his fridge and smiled to myself. He must have visited his mother recently. As he bent down, the muscles in his back seemed to ripple, demanding I stare at them. “You want one?” he offered, holding a can for me to see.
“Sure.”
He grabbed another can and set them on the table. Then he grabbed two plates, a serving spoon, and two forks. After he set them down, he stopped and looked at me as if he were waiting for something.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, why?” I inquired.
“You haven’t moved from that spot since you came inside and you’re standing there holding that casserole like it’s a newborn baby.”
I shook my head as my cheeks flamed before I moved to meet him at the table. “Sorry. It’s been a long day.”
He took the dish, placing it in the center of the table, before peeling the foil back. His eyelids flexed slightly, but he quickly caught himself. “It looks good,” he said. What a liar. It looked nowhere near good. My cheeks further heated with embarrassment. I knew it looked less than appetizing, but he was being nice. “Let’s have lunch.” It was close to five in the evening, but I didn’t bother to point that out to him. We sat and he served us. I watched him as he took his first bite. His chewing started fast, but slowed. At one point he looked like he was a horse chewing straw. As he continued, he worked hard to school his expression. When he finally managed to swallow, the muscles in his neck and jaw flexed dramatically. It looked as if he was choking down a wad of cotton. His gaze met mine, his eyes filled with sincerity.
“It’s really good, Clara,” he lied before he popped open his soda can and took a long swig. Again.
I bit back my laugh. “I think I finally found something you’re bad at, Paul.”
“What’s that?” he asked, bewildered as he poked at his plate.
“Lying. You suck at it.”
He laughed, leaning back in his seat and scratching his stomach. “I’m not lying,” he continued to fib. God. Those dimples. They were seriously killing me. Here I was, embarrassed as hell because I’d made a shitty casserole, and I couldn’t help smiling because of his two stupid dimples. Tilting forward, he placed his forearms on the table and scooped his fork in for more.
“Paul,” I said his name slowly, causing him to look up. “Stop.”
“Stop?” he asked, his tone indicating he was perplexed.
“Stop eating it. It’s awful. I’m sorry.” I stood and grabbed both plates from the table and dumped the casserole in the trash.
“Why’d you do that?” he questioned as he stood.
“I have no idea why I cooked. I suck at it. I just wanted to do something nice for you.” Shaking my head, I sighed. “I’m going to go now.”
“You sure?” he asked, frowning slightly. He seemed disappointed. “I have some other food my mother sent me home with yesterday.”
“Yeah, I’ve got some stuff to do.” Raising my gaze to meet his, I offered, “I’m sorry. About Sap. He was a colorful man.”
Paul smirked. “Yeah. He was.”
I walked to his front door and opened it, painfully aware he was behind me every step of the way. What a waste of time this was. What possessed me to bring him food? He must have thought I was the saddest woman he’d ever met. Not only couldn’t I make a simple casserole, but there was also the issue of the pity kiss. How pathetic. I stepped out onto his porch, ready to dart for my car and hightail it out of there, but stopped. Now was not to the time to confront him about the kiss. But I needed to. Or somehow I needed to redeem myself. But how?
Spinning around, I gazed at his dark stare and bit my lip.
“You okay?” he asked.
I shook my head, hardly able to believe what I was about to do, before I slammed my body to his, crushing our mouths together. As I crashed into him, he stumbled a bit and we would have fallen had he not managed to get his footing. Of course while he was trying to keep us from tumbling to the floor, I was trying to kiss him and he couldn’t quite participate initially. When he managed to get his footing, he was still for a moment, stunned, but I was undeterred despite my less than smooth initiation of the kiss. I pressed my mouth harder to his and once I threaded my fingers in his hair, he came to life. His lips moved against mine as his hands fisted the material of my shirt. When his tongue swept in my mouth, I lightly nipped it, earning a small hiss from him, before he squeezed me tighter. What started off clumsy was turning into a rather intense moment.
When I managed to pull away, he released me slowly, his hands sliding down my body before he dropped them to his sides. His eyes darted between my mouth and eyes as he sucked in a long breath. When Paul kissed me the first time, he was so smooth; flawless. My kiss, well, it was awkward. But judging by the look of shock in his gaze and the way his mouth quirked slightly, he seemed just as flabbergasted as I had been after he kissed me.
Clearing my throat, I gave a small smile. Then I turned and walked to my car, climbed in, and drove away. It was nice to be the one to leave him speechless.
“I think that’s where we should stop today,” I tell Ashley. “I want to get home and check on Neena.”
“Okay,” she acknowledges and waves a hand for Zane to remove my mic. “I really think Neena is going to like this.”
“I hope you will . . . make it tasteful, Ashley. She is twelve.”
Ashley smiles. “You mean leave out all the dirty kissing and sex parts.”
I cringe. Maybe I’ve volunteered a little too much detail. “We haven’t gotten to any sex parts yet,” I point out.
“No, but I am on pins and needles waiting for it. But don’t worry, I promise to make this G-rated for Neena.”
“Okay. Next week it is then, yes?”
“See you then.”
We’re sitting in the living room, waiting for Clara to get home. I had to cancel my time with Ashley this afternoon to pull off this surprise, but it will be well worth it. Clara is going to be stoked.
Vanessa is sitting on the end of Neena’s bed, a cup of coffee in hand, working off her hangover. Apparently it took two Xanax and a few shots of whiskey to get her on the plane. Ally was practically carrying her piggyback style when I’d picked them up from the airport.
“You okay?” I question.
She sips her coffee and mumbles, “I’ll make it.”
Ally sits beside Vanessa with Neena behind her, braiding her hair. The two women have doted on Neena since they walked in the door, remaining close to her most of the time. It’s like the mother in each of them came out as soon as they walked in the door and they needed to be close to her.
“She just pulled in,” Marcus informs us from where he’s peeking out the front window.
“She’s going to be so happy,” Neena gushes as she claps her hands in excitement. It’s been so long since I’ve seen her smile like this. My heart swells at the sight. She quickly pulls out her camera and climbs out of bed, readying it to capture Clara’s reaction. This kid. She slays me. She is so happy right now and it has nothing to do with her; it’s all about her mother. Knowing her mother will be elated to see her longtime friends gives her great joy. Immense pride washes over me. I’m honored to be her father.
