“I’ll make an exception for you,” I decide only as the words flow out of my mouth.
Jamie’s smile is bright and quick. The waitress brings over our bill and I pay. While we wait for her to bring back my card, I ask, “Why don’t you like college?”
“I don’t like school,” she replies flatly. “I’m only in college because my parents insist and they’re paying. If I could quit and do something that doesn’t require a degree, but keeps me around people, I’d be happy.”
I frown. “You don’t think your parents would understand that?”
“I’m still in college, aren’t I? Trust me, if I thought telling them would be better than suffering through four years of this hell, I would drop out in a heartbeat.”
The waitress drops off the receipt and my card. I don’t like what she’s telling me, but it’s not like I can change her situation. We slide out of the booth and I rest my hand on her lower back. I wait until we’re back inside my truck to ask my question again.
“Why do you hate school so much?”
“Ah, ah, ah. I can’t spill but so much about myself in one night and that one is a whopper. We’re not ready for that answer. You’ll have to ask me again another day.”
Hmm. “Okay. Where do you see yourself in five years?”
“Five years, ten years, twenty years, it’s all the same. Hopefully, I’ll have a job I enjoy and in a good relationship with a man I love. That’s all I want out of life.”
It sounds so simple. Maybe too simple. All she wants is a job and a man? No kids? Nothing else on her list?
“Thank you for dinner, by the way,” she adds.
“You’re welcome. We’ll do it again sometime.”
“That sounds like conviction and certainty in your voice.”
I glance over and see her smiling. “It is,” I confirm.
We ride the rest of the way in silence. It seems as if Jamie’s mood darkens by the second. When I park my truck next to her car, she confirms my suspicions with a sigh.
“I have to go back to campus. Yay me.”
“Hand me your keys.” She doesn’t ask or give me a look; she just hands them over. Again, the girl is way too trusting of people. I get out, the cold nipping at my skin, and go over to her car to crank it. It’ll be nice and toasty by the time she gets in it.
“See? Seriously so sweet,” she says as I get back into the truck.
I shrug. “I have manners.”
Jamie stares at me for a moment. “Huh.”
“What?” I don’t know what that huh means.
“I’ve realized that all the guys I know have no manners. None. Absolutely none.” She shakes her head in astonishment. “I don’t know anyone who would open a door for me, much less crank my car so it’s warm when I get in it. You are something else, Brent.”
No, I’m not. It’s just a damn shame that there aren’t more people with such manners out there. “Your car should be warm and toasty.” I get out and walk around to open the door for her, making her smile once again.
“When do you plan to see me again?” she asks.
“Tomorrow at six in the morning?” Her jaw drops and I laugh. “We could run and I’d make you breakfast afterward. You need a good start to your day so we don’t have a repeat of whatever happened today.”
“Six?”
“Six,” I confirm.
She pulls her phone from her pocket. “What’s your number?” I recite it for her and she adds, “I’ll text you later to get your address. I wasn’t exactly paying attention earlier, so there’s no guarantee I’ll be able to find your house again.” Jamie takes a step closer and closer until our chests touch. It doesn’t seem like enough, yet it is all the same. “One last question before I go. Is this considered a date and if so, do I get a—”
She is not about to ask that question, so I cut her off with a kiss. Within seconds of our lips and tongues meeting, my arms rope around her waist and I move to lean her against the car. She shivers as the cold from the car presses against her back. Her hands rest on my shoulders, her nails digging into the skin as she leans up and presses herself into me, kissing me harder and deeper. A soft moan leaves her to echo into my mouth.
I pull away, breathing as hard as if I just went running. I... What the hell was that? In all my years, no woman has done whatever the hell she just did to me. Kissing when I was a teenager and horny as hell didn’t even feel that good, that right. She tasted sweet and somehow, she smells a little like chocolate.
I need to get my head checked.
Instead, I clear my throat and open the door for Jamie. “Drive safe.”
She slides into the driver’s seat, buckles up, but looks at me. “One more?”
I laugh as I lean into the car and kiss her one more time. “Dress just a little warmer tomorrow. It’ll be colder.”
She tsks. “You’re bossy. I’ll see you in the morning, Brent.”
“Drive safe,” I repeat because one can never be too careful. I close her door, step back, and stand there until her tail lights disappear.
By the time I make it home, Jamie has texted me that she made it back to campus safe and sound and she needs my address for the morning. Now that I’m away from her, I can’t help but wonder what the hell I was thinking, even as I respond to her. She’s not much older than Kayla. I can’t seriously think about doing anything with her, can I? Even if I’m completely interested in finding out a little more about her?
What would my kids think? How would I feel if the situation was reversed? Maybe I’m getting ahead of myself here. It’s not like I’m about to jump into a relationship with this woman. There’s no harm in exploring the waters, right? And just the other day, Kayla actually told me to date more. Granted, she told me so I’d work less if I was dating someone, but that’s beside the point. I’ll just see what happens and if it seems like it might become more than casual, I’ll reevaluate. In the meantime, I have a feeling that Jamie is exactly the person I need to see right now.
She knocks on my door five minutes after six. I pull it open, keep my face expressionless, and say, “You’re late.”
Jamie rolls her eyes. “Sorry, boss. I needed this.” She holds up a coffee cup. “As soon as I set this down, we can get started.” She walks past me and adds, “You’re lucky I’m here at all. Do you realize how early it is? Too early, that’s how early.” No shorts this morning, but no pants either. She went midway with capris. And no long-sleeved shirt like me, either. She’s wearing a short-sleeved shirt. How is she not freezing her ass off? “Okay, let’s go.”
“Are you sure you’re ready? I have a jacket if you’d like to borrow it.”
“No, thanks. I overheat when I run. This is enough.” She walks out the door, jogs down the steps, and I have no choice but to follow her.
I catch up to her on the sidewalk. We start slow and steady without any talking. This is the odd thing about running with a partner. You have to learn their running habits. What’s their pace like? Do they enjoy talking or do they prefer not to? I normally run alone, so I enjoy the silence. Jamie had her phone in an armband yesterday with earbuds attached, but I notice it’s missing today.
We run five miles in silence by the time we make it back to my house.
“No wonder you look so great.” She rests her hands on her hips and takes a few breaths. “You’re a workhorse. I almost didn’t think I was going to make it.”
“You should’ve said something.” I hand her her now cold coffee and lead her into the kitchen, where I pull out a seat and make her sit.
“I was fine. You just have a...” Her voice trails off as she thinks and I wash my hands before getting started on our breakfast. “I don’t know what to call it. How I run is based on my emotions. It’s never a smooth, solid run like that.”
“I don’t know if that means it was enjoyable or not.”
“It was. What’s for breakfast?”
“Eggs, bacon, toast?”
She nods in agreement. “
How did you get into running?”
“Ran track in high school. It’s a bit of an addiction. You?”
Jamie sighs. “Ever heard of the freshman fifteen?” I nod. “It was more like the freshman fifty for me. Running helped me lose it. I got into the habit of running every day.” She glances down at her lap and then her gaze moves around the kitchen. Everywhere, but at me. “I was scared if I broke my habit, I’d gain it back. That’s not something I want to experience again.”
“There’s more to that story, isn’t there?” Her not looking me in the eyes was my first clue, but maybe I’m wrong.
“None that you’re going to hear.” Or maybe I’m right. “What’s different about your life since your divorce?”
“It’s actually not that different from being married, which probably says a lot about my marriage.” I leave that line of thought behind and say, “I still work a lot. Only changes are I now live alone, I see my son less, and I can date other people.”
“What about your daughter?”
“She lives with her boyfriend now. I see her about the same as I did before. Maybe slightly less with the boyfriend and her new jobs. Where are you from?” I don’t want to talk about my kids just yet. Her age is still too much at the forefront of my mind.
“Charlotte. I wanted some distance between my family and me, and they were adamant about staying in-state for school. I almost went to the university in Wilmington, but changed my mind.”
I make our plates, fix myself a cup of coffee, and walk over to the table. “Still good?” I ask, nodding to her drink. “Or would you like something else?”
“Actually, can I have some water?”
“Sure.” Once I’ve fixed her a glass of iced water, we’re finally able to eat.
Except, Jamie’s eyes are fixed to my fridge.
“What is it?” I ask.
She stands and walks over to the refrigerator. She points to one of the pictures from a family vacation last year. “Who are these people?”
“My kids: Kayla and Gregory. Why?” My muscles tense and coil, ready to spring into defensive mode if necessary.
“Your daughter is Kayla Murphy?” She releases a short breath before looking over at me. “I have a class with her this semester.”
Brent stares at me for so long that I blurt out, “You need to kiss me again.” His brows furrow. “We need to get rid of the weirdness because so far, we like us and kissing will easily get rid of the weird.” He doesn’t seem so convinced. “I recognized her, that’s all. We did a project together earlier this semester. We aren’t friends. Does that help?”
He shakes his head. “Come sit down and eat.”
My stomach sinks. This is already going to hell in a handbasket. I shouldn’t have said I knew his daughter, I guess.
“Why are you here?” he asks.
“You invited me.”
“Jamie, why are you here with me?”
“I told you already.” But he looks confused, so I add, “Last night. I said you’re hot and sweet. Why not see what happens? A fling, a relationship, even heartbreak. I’m okay with it all because that’s life and if not you, it’ll be someone else. But I wouldn’t mind if it’s you. Your age doesn’t bother me. Neither does the fact that I know your daughter who is a little younger than I am. Age is just a number and all that, yadda yadda. If it works, it works, right? And will you please interrupt me because I’ll just keep rambling unless you do. I don’t even know what I’m actually saying anymore.”
Brent reaches over and takes my hand. I relax with his touch. Just like that. “You realize why this is a bit different for me.”
“Yes, of course. I’d probably worry if it didn’t freak you out at least a little. If you just want sex, I can do that. If you want to see what happens, I can do that too.”
We eat in silence for a bit, Brent eyeing me every so often. By the time we finish, he says, “Let’s see what happens. In the meantime, I don’t plan to let my kids know.”
I nod in agreement. Sounds perfectly fine with me. One bump in the road conquered, an unknown number to go. “When you retire, will you move to Florida like your parents?” I ask, not sure why that question popped into my mind.
Brent laughs. “I don’t plan to retire. Well, I don’t want to think about retiring. Either way, I doubt I’ll move unless something comes up to make me change my mind. This is where I grew up and I love it here.”
“You really are a workaholic.”
He shakes his head. “It doesn’t feel like work for me. Even when I’m there all day and half the night, I don’t once feel like I’ve been at work. Now, when I have to do paperwork and bookkeeping and all that mess, that feels like work. It’s why my brother Ronnie is in charge of overseeing that and I only help out when needed.”
“Sounds like a true workaholic to me,” I tease. “I hate to eat and run, but I need to get back to campus. Thanks for breakfast.” Brent stands as I do. He holds out his hand and I take it. We walk through the house, out the front door, and all the way to my car.
“I think,” he says as he opens my door, “that today will be better than yesterday for you.”
“It’s off to a better start.”
Brent smiles. “Good.” He leans forward to kiss me. It’s short and simple, but two seconds after he pulls away, our mouths collide once again. This man? He kisses better than anybody I’ve ever kissed. I didn’t realize it was possible for it to feel as if someone was reaching all the way into the depths of my soul with his kiss. I always feel a little exposed and vulnerable in the best way possible after a kiss. I didn’t know feeling good about those things was possible.
“Even better now,” I mumble when Brent releases my lips. That’s all he lets go of. His arms are still fused around my waist.
“You’re trouble, aren’t you?” he asks with a grin.
“With a capital T.”
He laughs and lets me go. “I’ll talk to you soon. Have a good day, okay?”
“I’ll do my best.”
“What is wrong with you? There’s a smile on your face and we’re in class. That never happens,” my closest friend, Erin, whispers.
I wave my hand to dismiss her. I was thinking about my kiss with Brent. I wonder when I’ll see him again. Unfortunately, I have to work tonight and tomorrow. One of the best decisions I made since being in college was getting a job. Some may not be impressed with a job at a department store, but I enjoy it. Sure, standing for hours on end isn’t fun, but I get to talk to all sorts of people as I check them out.
It’s way better than sitting in this class while the instructor drones on about accounting. The last degree I should’ve picked was a business degree, yet here I am. Daydreaming about marching into my parents’ house, demanding they listen to me, and then telling them I’m done. I’m dropping out and I won’t endure this hell any longer! I want to work some “crappy” job for the rest of my life because I thoroughly enjoy it.
But that’ll never happen. My parents would freak and I’d rather deal with this hell than the one they’d give me if I did that. This is the problem with having siblings. It wouldn’t be so bad if we were both equally good or bad. However, my sister, Michelle, is Little Miss Perfect. I’m on the lowest ladder rung while she’s on the highest. Try competing with that.
Michelle and I typically get along, but there are occasional instances where we don’t. Where our parents wiggle between us and Michelle doesn’t hesitate to jump onto their side. Three against one isn’t a fun family dynamic. It’s why I avoid going home now if I can. My family isn’t that bad, but they can be.
I fumble my way through classes, grateful when they’re over for the day. There’s homework to do, but the only commitment I make is to pass the class. I’ll get to it eventually. My phone rings on the drive to work and I smile when a quick glance shows it’s from Brent.
“Miss me already?” I say in lieu of a hello.
“I was thinking of you, yes,” he answers. “Having a good day?
”
“I’m not having a bad day.” Not sure it’s good, but it’s definitely not bad. “You?”
“It’s fine. When do I get to see you again?”
“Straight to the point, I like that. How about Friday? I’m working tonight and tomorrow.”
“You work?” he asks curiously.
“Yeah, just at a department store near the mall. So, Friday?” My parents hate the fact that I work. What kind of parents are unhappy when their college student decides to get a job? The kind who think this kind of work is beneath me. Big eye roll, folks. Apparently, the Alexanders have high standards and being a cashier doesn’t work for them.
“Friday at five? Mind if I pick you up?”
“I certainly don’t. I’ll see you then, Brent.”
“And if you want to see me sooner, I’ll be running Thursday morning.”
I groan. “Now, you’re pushing it.” He laughs. “But I’ll think about it. I have to go, but I’ll talk to you soon, maybe?”
“Yeah, of course.”
We say our goodbyes and hang up just as I find a parking space. But before I can get out of my car, there’s another call. This time from my mother. I eye the screen, debating if I should answer. Reluctantly, I do. If there’s something she wants to discuss, she’ll keep calling in thirty-minute intervals until I answer.
“Hello, Mother. I can’t talk long because I’m about to clock in for work.” I get out and head inside the building.
“Are you still working at that horrid job? Why, Jamie?” She pauses for an actual response, which she should know better. She won’t get one from me.
“Is that why you called?”
“No, but I do wish you’d quit. We give you plenty with your allowance.”
“Mother, why did you call?” I ask to get her back on point.
“You’re coming home for Michelle’s birthday party, aren’t you? She would really like you to be here and it’s important you come.”
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