by Rebeca Seitz
“They try to keep it in stock, but for some reason it keeps selling out. Been on the New York Times list for weeks and weeks. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of it by now.” He laughed and stood up from the steps, offering her his hands. “So, you ready for that smashing party now?”
She put her hands into his big warm ones and jumped up from her position on the steps, snatching up the red gift bag again. “Absolutely.” Hand in hand, they turned to go just as Jane heard the Kentucky fight song ring out from inside her apartment.
“Is that your phone?”
“Yeah, hang on just a second.” She dropped his hand, missing its warmth, and dashed back inside the apartment, grabbing the kitchen phone just before the answering machine picked up.
“Hello?”
“Jane?”
“Hey, Lyd. What’s up?”
“I was wondering if you were busy this afternoon. Mari and I are taking the kids to the park, and I thought you might want to join us.”
“That sounds like fun. I was outside a minute ago and it’s gorgeous out there.”
“Were you, now? Any run-ins with Mr. Tall, Dark, and Neighborly?”
“As a matter of fact, yes.”
“And?”
“And I’ll let you know.”
“You’ll let me know? No time like the present, girl. Spill.”
“I’d love to oblige, but I simply can’t.” Jane twirled the phone cord around her finger and smiled at Jake.
“You mean you can’t talk right now?” Jake grinned back, and her heart flipped. He’s too far away.
“You’re so smart.”
“He’s there?”
“Yep.” And if he takes three steps he’ll be right here beside me, and that’s great with me, since he’s holding the most perfect gift I’ve ever gotten in his hand.
“What are you doing answering the phone?” Jane laughed.
“Hang up and go find out all about him. Then meet Mari and me at the park to dish the details. You think he’ll be gone by then?”
“I don’t know.” She shook her head to dispel the image of a warm Jake, turning her back to the real one standing in her entryway. “What time are y’all meeting?”
“We’re having lunch there, but we’ll stay until you show up. Will that work?”
“Sure. I’ll talk to you then.”
“Bye. Oh, and be sure to remember every single second.”
“I don’t think that will be a problem” She hung up and turned back to Jake. “Sorry about that. Some friends are going to the park and wanted me to join them.” Which isn’t any of his business, so why are you babbling?
“Oh, do we need to do this another time?” He held up the bag of AOL CDs.
“No, no, that’s not what I meant.” Geez, could you seem any more eager? “I mean, they’re meeting for lunch, and that’s not for a couple of hours, so I’m free right now. I’ll just need to be done in time to meet them for lunch. Or I can skip lunch. I just said I’d be there before they went home, which will probably be sometime after lunch.” But before I check myself into an asylum. Shut up already.
He grinned and stepped closer to her.
If babbling gets you closer to me, I can keep going.
“Just to be clear, you don’t have to be anywhere for a while. Right?”
“Right.” She tilted her head back to look up at him and saw the sparkle in his eye. Babbling was easier when my brain worked, which might happen again sometime in the next millennium.
“So our choices are to go and smash these CDs right now or stand here and”—he reached over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear—“talk.”
Not if it involves me being coherent. “Yes.”
“Do you have a preference?” He cupped her chin and tilted her face to his.
Mmm-hmm. But it’s hard to talk when your lips are otherwise engaged. She swallowed and took a deep breath. This was going faster than she’d planned. Did she know enough about this man to be kissing him in her apartment? “I suppose we could talk for a while.”
He looked at her for a long moment, then put his hands in his back pockets and stepped backward. “Okay.”
She cleared her throat, the ability to think returning in direct proportion to his distance from her. “Okay, so, um, tell me about you.”
“Me? I’m boring. I live across the hall. I have a cat. I work on computers from home. That’s it. Let’s talk about you.”
“Oh, I think you know more than enough about me already.”
She smiled and led him into the living room, her feet having regained their ability to move.
“I doubt it. What’s your favorite ice cream?”
“Breyer’s French Vanilla.”
“See, I didn’t know that.” He sat on the couch as she took the big comfy chair. “Favorite movie?”
“Hmm, that’s a hard one. Probably What Dreams May Come, though I like Die Hard—all of ’em—and French Kiss.”
“Die Hard?”
“Hey, a girl can’t resist Bruce Willis beating up the bad guys.
My dad and I watch the first Die Hard every Christmas. What about you?”
He leaned back, putting his hands behind his head just like on the stairwell. The sight of a gorgeous man stretched out across her couch was doing more things to her brain than she needed. “I think Gladiator would be at the top of my list.”
“Gladiator? You’re a Russell Crowe fan?”
“Not really. But it’s a good story, and the fight choreography is fantastic.”
“Ah, I get it. Man fights lion and wins. How could we resist?” She laughed, and he joined her.
“Back to you. Favorite band?”
She settled back into her chair. “Modern or old?”
“Let’s start with modern—say, in the last fifteen years.”
“Hmmm, if I had to pick just one band, it’d probably be Aerosmith.”
He put his hand to his heart. “You’ve renewed my faith in women everywhere. Now for the bonus point—favorite Aerosmith song?”
“Just one? You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope. Name one.”
She thought for a long while. “Love in an Elevator” was great, but he’d probably read a lot into that answer. “Crazy” got nixed for the same reason. She went through the entire Aerosmith concert playlist, but the only one that seemed safe to mention was “Dude Looks Like a Lady,” and no way was she claiming that as her favorite song.
“Well?”
“Um.” She nibbled her fingernail.
He sat up and stared at her. “You do know some Aerosmith songs, right?”
“Of course I do. They’re my favorite modern band. I know every single song they’ve ever played.”
“Then name one.”
She nibbled some more, tidbits of Aerosmith running through her brain like a 1-800 commercial for an Aerosmith boxed set. Surely there was one song that wouldn’t make him think she was trying to get him to kiss her. Which would be fine.
Okay, better than fine, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“It can’t be that hard. Doesn’t even have to be your favorite.
Just name one.”
She nibbled harder. Inspiration struck.
“‘Janie’s Got a Gun’!”
He sat back and laughed. She sighed with relief. “You don’t have to get violent.”
“I wasn’t. It’s one of their songs—”
“I know. I was being funny.” He shrugged. “Or not.”
“Your turn. Favorite Aerosmith song?”
He stopped laughing and looked her straight in the eye.
“It’s a toss-up. ‘Love in an Elevator’ or ‘Crazy.’”
She sucked in her breath, ignoring the pounding of her heart. Was he hinting at what she thought he was hinting at?
“Those are good, too.”
“Yeah, good subject matter.” He held her gaze, and she felt her face heat up. He was hinting. Great, now what? It’d been too long
since she dated. Should she say something? What? Get a grip; he’s just naming a song, Jane. He raised an eyebrow at her and got up from the couch. Or not. She sat transfixed as he crossed the short distance from couch to her.
He sat down on the footstool of her chair. “Favorite old band?”
She didn’t even have to think. “Not band, singer. Etta James, with Otis Redding and Frank Sinatra tied for second.”
“Hmm, an old school fan, I see. Favorite old song?”
Great. He would definitely draw conclusions from this, but she couldn’t lie about the best song of all time.
“You can’t laugh.”
“Moi? Laugh? Of course not. Why would I laugh?”
“Because, well, just because.”
He made an x over his heart. “Promise, cross my heart. No laughing. Song title, please.”
“‘At Last.’”
“At last?”
“Yeah.” She stared at her hands in her lap.
“At last what?”
She looked up at him, eyes wide. “ ‘At Last.’ It’s the name of the song.”
“Oh, I don’t think I know it. How’s it go?”
“You don’t know ‘At Last’?” He seemed so perfect. It was almost a relief he didn’t know the best love song ever written.
“Afraid not.” He nodded to the CD player nearby. “Can you play it for me?”
Yeah, and I can also just tell you you’re gorgeous and I’m ready to start dating again. I don’t think so. “Um, I’m not sure where my CD is. And you didn’t tell me your favorite old band.”
He looked at her for a second. “Is there a reason you don’t want to play this song for me?”
She shook her head. “Nope. Not a one. Now, spill. Favorite old band, please?”
She squirmed as he stared a second longer. “I don’t have one.”
“You don’t have one?”
“I guess if I had to name one, I’d say Otis Redding, since I like ‘Sittin’ on the Dock of the Bay,’ but I’m more of an ’80s-band kinda guy.”
“You poor, poor man.” She shook her head. “You don’t know what you’re missing out on.”
“Well, I would if somebody would play a certain CD for me.”
“I’ll search around for it and bring it with me on Friday if I remember, okay?”
He sighed. “Okay, you’re off the hook. But I can’t wait to hear what’s so great about this song.”
You’ll wait if I can help it. Why didn’t I just name another song? “Favorite food?”
“Pizza. You?”
“Chicken pie, my mom’s.”
“Favorite date?”
“Oh, gosh, I don’t know.”
“You don’t know? Good. Slot’s still open.” He put his elbows on his knees and leaned closer to her.
She laughed. “Maybe I just have a bad memory.”
“I doubt it. You’d remember a fantastic date.”
“You give my long-term memory more credit than it deserves.”
“Who was your second-grade teacher?”
She replied instantly. “Mrs. Darnell.”
“Best subject in school?”
“English.”
“First car?”
“Pontiac Grand Am.”
“I don’t think it’s your memory.” He leaned even closer and put his hand on her knee.
She blushed and ducked her head. “Okay, maybe I haven’t had a great date.”
His face was inches from hers as he put one finger below her chin, forcing her to look at him. “We’ll see what can be done about that on Friday.”
She held her breath. The tiny lines around his eyes mesmerized her. He must smile a lot. This close, she could even see a few gray hairs at his temple. He’ll be one of those gorgeous older men.
“Jane?”
Her eyes shot to his, and she saw a tiny reflection of herself in his iris. “Yes?” She hadn’t meant to sound that breathless.
The finger at her chin became a caress against her neck. “I—”
Wilson’s sharp bark made them both jump apart. That dog is dead meat. “Sorry.” She jumped up from the chair and held up a finger. “Hold that thought.”
Rushing down the hall and into her bedroom, she bent low to undo the latch on Wilson’s crate, then scratched his ears.
“Good boy,” she whispered. “Momma was getting in over her head out there.” She straightened, and the dog ran from the bedroom as she checked out her flushed face in the dresser mirror. Moving a little fast there, Jane. Her fingers trembled a bit as she smoothed her hair and headed back out toward the living room.
Jake was standing by the couch, watching Wilson jump at the hall closet door.
“I probably need to take him out, or I’ll have a mess to clean up.” She opened the door and pulled out his leash.
“No problem. I was thinking the same thing about Carter.”
He followed her and Wilson through the door outside. “So I’ll see you on Friday, okay?”
“Okay.” Look anywhere but at him, or you’ll pick right back up where you left off.
“Have a good time at the park.”
He went inside his apartment, and she tugged Wilson toward the grass, grateful again that she’d gotten the dog in the divorce.
chapter 14
Jane slid her Blazer into a parking space just as Lydia was pulling a sleeping Olivia out of her pink plaid car seat. Lydia placed her peaceful daughter next to Oliver in the side-by-side stroller, buckled them in, and went around to the back of the Durango. She came back with Otis, a picnic basket, and a baby bag. Jane grabbed her own basket from the passenger seat and stepped out of the vehicle.
“Perfect timing, for once,” Jane said. “See, I’m not late to everything.”
Lydia smiled back as she stuffed the huge diaper bag in the bottom of the stroller. “Well, will wonders never cease?” She picked up her wicker picnic basket in the same hand as Otis’s retractable leash.
Jane followed Lydia across the park, eyeing the picnic tables on the far side for shade and suitability. Deciding on one below a great big grandfather elm, she led them to it and they set their baskets down on the worn, scarred tabletop. Two minutes later, a beautiful multicolored quilt was spread out on the ground, and both babies were lying contentedly, Oliver babbling up at the branches of the great elm while Otis settled his furry little body down into the grass with a snort.
“Wow, I’m hungry,” Jane said. “And it’s such a beautiful day for a picnic. Oh, look at that sweet little one, sleeping so soundly.”
Lydia turned to look and saw that Oliver had fallen asleep.
“You’ve got to get a picture of that for your scrapbook.
They’re so adorable. And Otis is just lying there looking at them all serious. Did you bring your camera?”
“Honey, does the pope pray? Of course I’m prepared to capture any scrapbook-worthy moments!” Lydia pulled her Canon Rebel Ti from its carrying case. She snapped on the external flash and turned it on. Walking over to the twins, she lay down in the grass to be at their level, then snapped a few pictures.
Jane began unloading her goodies as Lydia stood back up.
Unhooking the flash and placing the camera back in its bag, Lydia squinted into the sun’s harsh glare as she studied the parking lot. “I think that’s Mari and Emmy in the parking lot.”
She gestured to the far corner of the lot.
Jane turned and looked in the direction Lydia had pointed, straining to make out the figures now walking down the hill. “I think you’re right. I’ll go meet her and see if she needs any help.”
Jane once again crossed the new grass, honest enough with herself to admit there was a new bounce to her step.
“Hola, chica! ” Jane called out as she approached Mari and Emmy.
“Hola! Are we late? Have we missed anything?” Mari called back.
“Not a thing. We just got here a second ago. Lydia’s over getting set up. Can I help carry something?” T
hey walked together toward the picnic table.
“Nope, I’m good.”
“Mommy, I want to play on the playground. Can I? Please?” Jane smiled down at the adorable little girl.
“Just a second, honey,” Mari answered as they approached the picnic table.
“Hey, Mari! Hi, Emmy!” Lydia greeted Mari and the smiling little girl clutching Mari’s hand, twirling a red-ribboned pigtail in her other hand.
“Hi. I hope we’re not too late.” Mari tucked her short hair behind her ear and deposited a big turquoise beach bag on the table.
“Oh, no, you’re fine. We just got here.”
“Mommy, can we go play on the swings, por favor ?” Emmy tugged Mari in the direction of the nearby playground.
“Un momento, sweetheart. Mommy’s got to get our food out first.” Mari began unloading the beach bag with her free hand.
“I’ll take her,” Jane said. “You can stay here and get all set up.”
“Would you mind?”
“Not at all. I’m done with the unloading anyway.” She gestured at her things on the table, then bent down to Emmy’s level. “Hi, I’m Jane.”
Emmy stepped forward and grinned. “I’m Emmy.”
Jane turned back to Mari. “We’ll be back in a flash.” Emmy’s hopeful gaze swung back and forth between her mom and Jane.
“Okay, thanks.” Mari bent down and tugged on one of Emmy’s pigtails. “You be good for Ms. Jane, all right?”
“All right.” Emmy grabbed Jane’s hand and began pulling her toward the swings. “Come on, Ms. Jane! Let’s get the purple one!” Jane trotted after her, tossing a bemused expression over her shoulder to Mari. Mari smiled back and, assured her little girl was in capable hands, turned back to unloading her bag.
“So, how’s the scrapbook coming?” Lydia untwisted the tie on a loaf of bread. Pulling out two slices, she began tearing off the edges.
“Honestly, I haven’t picked it up since we were at MacKenzie’s.” Mari watched her. “I just can’t seem to find time for it at home. There’s always so much to do. What are you doing?”
Lydia looked up in surprise and blushed. “I hate bread crusts. I know we’re supposed to outgrow it, but I never did.”
Mari laughed as Lydia picked up the peanut butter and began unscrewing the lid.
“No need to explain. I feed Emmy green beans, and I won’t touch the things.”