Bait

by Mia Carson

  I took the bottle from her and sipped. I had to work hard to not grimace. “That’s…different.”

  “You like it?” she asked, taking the bottle back.

  “No, not really.”

  “Wimp,” she murmured just loud enough for me to hear as she smiled.

  She hovered in the kitchen, sitting on the counter, sipping her beer as I made the last of the preparations for dinner. She looked damned sexy, sitting there, the bottle held loosely in her hand. She always seemed so relaxed and comfortable in her own skin. I’d stepped between her legs a couple of times just so I could taste her lips.

  “Where’s Bláithín?” she asked.

  “Out on a date, I think.”

  “Really?”

  “What?” I asked, surprised at her questioning tone. “She’ll be twenty-two in a few days. She has a right to a life too.”

  “So, no coming back to my place tonight?”

  I stepped in and kissed her again, my hands resting on her hips. “No. I’m sorry. Not tonight.”

  She sighed dramatically. “Probably just as well. You worked me over pretty good in San Diego, and now my legs are starting to hurt from running this afternoon.”

  “We’ll go for a walk after dinner. That’ll help your legs.”

  She groaned in mock dismay but her slight smile gave her away. “What about the rest of me?”

  I leaned in close. “I could kiss it to make it better,” I whispered.

  “What about Bailey?” she murmured in return.

  “I’ll lock him in a closet.”

  She snickered. “I dare you.”

  “Okay, you’re right. Maybe we should lock ourselves in a closet instead.”

  She watched me a moment. “Damn you. That actually sounds kind of sexy.”

  I tugged at her hand. “My closet is a walk-in,” I said with a waggle of my eye brows.

  She pulled her hand away. “Oh, stop it…before I make you put up or shut up.”

  “Anytime you’re ready.”

  After a few more minutes of suggestive repartee, I popped the rolls into the oven. By the time they were baked, the table was set and the entree was ready. The three of us enjoyed the coddle, and Bailey cleared the table while I loaded the dishwasher. The kitchen ship-shape, I turned to her.

  “Ready for a walk?”

  “I think,” she moaned.

  “Bailey, Ms. Carolyn and I are going for a walk. Stay inside and don’t answer the door.” He knew the rules, but it never hurt to remind him.

  “Okay!” His voice came from the back of the house.

  Walking hand in hand with her after dinner, even if it was only a meandering stroll through the neighborhood, was something I really enjoyed and looked forward too.

  “Are you happy at your job?” I asked during a pause in our conversation.

  She shrugged. “I guess. Why?”

  “I was wondering. Little things I’ve heard you say that makes me wonder. Like today, you said ‘if it were fun they wouldn’t call it work.’ Things like that.”

  “I like it well enough, I guess,” she said after a short pause. She looked at me. “I’m almost thirty, and maybe I’m starting to look back and wonder about my life choices.”

  “Like what?”

  “All the stuff I told you.”

  I again had the feeling she was withholding something. “Going to work right out of high school?”

  “That’s most of it.”

  “There’s more?”

  She heaved a large sigh. “No, not really. I was just a stupid kid. I lived for the weekends, you know, and the next party. I look at you and the drive you had to succeed, and it makes me feel…”

  “What?” I asked when she didn’t continue.

  “I don’t know. It’s hard to put into words. I’m starting to feel like I’ve wasted my life.”

  I pulled her to a stop. “Now why would you think something like that?”

  She shrugged. “Look at you. Same age as I am and look at where you are. Compare that to where I am.”

  “And look at me compared to, say, Bill Gates. By the time he was my age, he was worth, what, maybe ten times what I am? I contend money isn’t a good indicator of a person’s worth.”

  “Says the billionaire,” she muttered as she began walking again.

  “So are you saying I’m a better person than you because I have more money? That’s ridiculous.”

  “No, not really, but what if I’d been a little less worried about having a good time and a little more worried about making something of myself?”

  “Trust me, working all the time isn’t any fun either. I know.”

  “I get that.”

  “Is this something you’ve felt for a while or is it new? It’s not anything I’ve done, is it?”

  She stopped and turned to face me. “No!” she cried. “You’ve been wonderful.”

  “So, you’ve felt like this for a while?”

  She sighed again as we began to walk. “Kind of. Since my breakup.”

  “He hurt you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m sorry he hurt you, but his loss is my gain.”

  “You’re sweet.”

  “I’m serious.”

  “I kind of feel the same way about you. I’m surprised some woman hasn’t snapped you up already.”

  “I never felt the spark before.”

  “Spark?”

  “Yeah. You know, that feeling you get when you’re with someone that feels right.”

  “You have that with me?”

  “Oh, yeah. Big time.”

  “And you never felt it before?”

  “Not like this, no.”

  “Not even with your wife, what was her name?”

  “Cheryl, and no. Not like with you.”

  We walked in silence for a moment. “I don’t know what to say to that. Why did you marry her then?”

  “Bailey.”

  “So? This isn’t the 1950s, you know.”

  “I know, but I thought it was the right thing to do. And I did love her.”

  “Until she walked out on you.”

  “Yeah. That kind of put a damper on my feelings for her.”

  “I bet. I guess I don’t understand why you were with her if you didn’t feel the ‘spark,’ as you put it.”

  “I did. But with you, it’s different.”

  “How?” she asked.

  I thought a moment. “Cheryl was a light bulb. You’re a search light. The same, but different. Both give off light. One gives you comfort in a dark room, the other banishes the darkness.”

  She didn’t say anything for a long time. “Thank you.”

  “I’ve only known you a few weeks, but I like you. A lot. I’d like to get to know more about you.”

  She nodded. “I like you too.”

  “A lot?” I asked, my tone teasing.

  She didn’t look at me, but I saw her smile. “Probably more than I should at this point.”

  “Is it my fantastic good looks, my fabulous wealth, my stellar conversational skills, my prowess in bed, or my absolute modesty that you like the most? Don’t be shy.”

  She snickered and slowly shook her head in mock resignation. “You’re a nut.”

  “That’s what you do to me. You let me to be myself. I don’t feel like I have to pretend around you. I’d like it if you’d let go of whatever is bothering you and just be yourself with me.”

  “I have been! What you see is what you get.”

  “Then why this sudden idea that you’ve wasted your life. If you don’t like what you’re doing, change it.”

  “I have to eat, Thom. It’s not easy.”

  “I didn’t say it was, but few things worth doing are. I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. If you could do anything you wanted right now, what would it be?”

  “Lock ourselves in a closet?”

  I flashed a smile. “I’m serious. If you don’t like working at the Harley dealership, what do you
want to do?”

  She was quiet for a time. “I honestly don’t know. I like my job, meeting and helping people.”

  “So, what’s the problem? I’ve never seen you do your job, but from what little I know about you, I bet you’re damned good at it.”

  “Thanks.”

  “It takes all kinds to make the world go around. Every time you help someone with their bike, you’ve made their day a little better. When I have my car serviced, I’m thankful there are guys that enjoy working on cars so I don’t have to. I see no reason a motorcycle is any different. Remember that.”

  She leaned in close. “If this investment thing doesn’t work out for you, you may have a career in counseling. Thank you.”

  As we turned into my drive, I stopped abruptly. “One more thing. Your life choices made you the person you are, just like my choices have made me who I am. I like you for who you are right now, the Carolyn McDowell that’s standing in front of me. The woman I’m about to kiss. I’m glad you made the choices you did.”

  She held my gaze a moment. “You’re a very kind man. Thank you for talking to me.”

  “You’re a wonderful woman. Don’t ever let anyone convince you otherwise.”

  “Are you going to just stand there or are you going to kiss me?”

  I took her lips. The kiss wasn’t heated but was gentle and giving. I slowly pulled back, wishing I knew what was bothering her.

  “Dammit. I wish Bláithín was home.”

  I smiled as I drew my fingers gently down her face. “Yeah. Me too.”

  Carolyn

  I rode in the front of Thom’s Volvo, Bláithín and Bailey sharing the back seat. Bláithín had turned twenty-two on Tuesday, and we were all going out to celebrate. When Thom asked me to join them, I’d first refused, not wanting to horn in on their celebration, but his argument that he wanted me along so people wouldn’t think he was robbing the cradle had convinced me to join in. Besides, it was Wednesday, and I hadn’t seen Thom since Sunday.

  We were headed to Gastonia for dinner, a solid fifty-minute drive from Thom’s house. He had a special surprise planned for Bláithín, though she didn’t know it. Thom had been steadily introducing me to new experiences and expanding my horizons, but Heart and Soul, a restaurant famous for its southern cooking, was right up my alley. I’d never eaten there, but I’d heard the food was outstanding and I was looking forward to finding out if their fried chicken was all it was cracked up to be.

  It was raining lightly when we backed out of Thom’s garage, and as we drove west, it began raining harder until it was pouring as we pulled into the parking lot.

  “I’ll let you off at the door, and then go park the car. Bailey, go with the women.”

  “I want to go with you to park the car.”

  “And with both of us in the car, who’s going to protect Bláithín and Carolyn?”

  “Dad,” he groaned.

  “I’m serious,” Thom said as we rolled to a stop. “You’re taking jujitsu.”

  “Oh, okay,” Bailey muttered, giving in.

  I smiled but turned away so Bailey wouldn’t see it. He wasn’t buying Thom’s argument for a moment. I’d learned Bailey and Thom argued good naturedly, but Bailey always ended up doing what Thom wanted without Thom resorting to the ‘because I said so’ argument like my parents had done with me. Thom seemed to have a keen understanding of not only dogs but also little boys.

  I opened the car door and dashed the short distance to the entrance, Bláithín and Bailey right behind me. I shook myself and fluffed my hair to shake out some of the water, Bailey and Bláithín doing similarly.

  “How many?” the hostess asked.

  “Four. I’m supposed to tell you we’re the Gregg party,” I said.

  She brightened. “Oh, okay! Are you Bláithín?” She pronounced it Bla-thin.

  “It’s Blaw-heen,” I corrected and nodded at Bláithín, “and that’s her.”

  “Sorry, Bláithín,” she amended. “Right this way please.”

  She led us to a large table in the corner that could seat at least eight. We were just getting settled when Thom stepped inside. I nudged Bláithín and nodded at the door. She grinned. Thom couldn’t be wetter if he’d fallen out of boat. The hostess pointed, he looked in our direction, and started toward us.

  “Reminds me of home, the way it’s bucketing down,” Bláithín said as Thom arrived at the table.

  He grinned. “Yes, well, if it’s still bucketing down, as you say, when we’re ready to leave, we may have to wait. I nearly drowned.”

  “It looks like it,” I agreed, but truth be told, I thought he still looked pretty good.

  “Mr. Gregg?” a man asked as he approached.

  Thom leaned back and offered his hand. “That’s me.”

  They shook. “Are you ready?”

  “I think we are.”

  “Your food will be out shortly then.”

  Bláithín looked confused. “We didn’t order.”

  Thom smiled. “I ordered for us. In honor of your birthday, I’m going to introduce you to a little southern culture. They’re going to bring out a little bit of a bunch of different things so you can try them all.”

  He’d told me what was going to happen when he invited me to join them, and I smiled at her slightly dubious look. “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ll steer you to the good stuff. We’ll leave the chitterlings and collards for Thom.”

  “I don’t know what those are.”

  “Collards are kind of like spinach. I’m not a fan, but a lot of people like them. Chitterlings…you don’t want to know.”

  She looked to Thom. “No chitterlings,” he said, pausing before continuing. “They’re pig’s intestine.”

  “Like haggis?”

  “Kind of, but without the meat and stuff inside.”

  Bláithín scrunched her face. “I’ve never had the nerve to try haggis, and that sounds worse.”

  Thom chuckled. “Yeah. I haven’t worked up the nerve to try them myself.”

  A few minutes later, dishes began to arrive, served with sweetened iced tea. Bláithín took a sip and set her glass aside. “Gah! I’ve tried that before. It’s mankey.”

  “What do you drink normally? Other than beer,” I clarified with a teasing smile.

  She returned my smile. “Tea, but not the swill you serve here. We drink proper tea, with milk.”

  Bláithín picked over the items. Other than the tea, it quickly became apparent if I liked it, she’d probably like it as well. The fried chicken was a big hit, as was the mashed potatoes, meat loaf, corn bread, pinto beans, southern fried steak, and the macaroni and cheese. She was less fond of black-eyed peas, fried okra, and fried catfish.

  “How was your weekend off?” I asked as we ate. She blushed and I dabbed at my mouth with my napkin to hide my smile. It was pretty obvious she’d enjoyed it.

  “It was good.”

  I glanced at Thom, who shrugged. I wanted to roll my eyes. If it weren’t for sex, food, or sports, I’m not sure men would ever talk. If Bláithín were living with me I’d want all the juicy details, and from the way she was acting, there appeared to be some very juicy details indeed.

  “Just good?” I teased.

  She looked at her plate, but I could see the smile she was trying to hide. She was doing what I do when I thought about Thom. “Maybe a little better,” she allowed.

  “That’s good. Someone new?

  “Yeah. I stopped for lunch one day, while Bailey was in school,” she added, clearly for Thom’s benefit. “He was standing behind me in the queue. We started talking, he insisted on buying my lunch to welcome me to America, and since we were both eating alone, we sat together. Before we left, he asked me out. He said he liked my accent.”

  “I can understand that,” Thom said. “I think most guys would.”

  She nodded. “Yeah. I like his too. A drawl? Is that what you call it?”

  “You like the southern drawl?” Thom asked, pushing hi
s accent until it was as thick and slow as molasses.

  She grinned. “It’s grand.”

  I could tell she had more to say, but her eyes flicked to Bailey. He was ignoring us as he plowed his way through chicken and mac and cheese, but small ears missed little.

  “What’s he do?”

  “Do?” Bláithín asked.

  “His job.”

  “Oh. He said he owns a security business.”

  “That’s interesting.”

  I was dying to know more about Bláithín’s mystery man, but the conversation moved on to other things and Bláithín talked about Ireland instead. I had the feeling Thom and Bailey had heard most of it already, but I was fascinated. As she talked, the deserts began to arrive, and I’d put a visit to Ireland on my bucket list.

  “Try this,” I suggested, snagging one of the two pecan pie slices for Bláithín. Pecan pie was one of my personal favorites.

  She took a tentative bite and smiled. “That’s really grand!”

  “Coffee?” our waiter asked.

  “I’d like a cup,” I said.

  “One for me as well,” Thom added.

  “Do you have hot tea?” Bláithín asked, her eyes begging.

  “Uh, I’ll have to ask.”

  “Perhaps a cup of hot water and a teabag?” she asked hopefully.

  “Let me see what I can do.”

  Bláithín grinned. “While he sorts that out, I’m going to the jacks.”

  I looked to Thom and Bailey for an explanation.

  “Toilet,” Thom said.

  “Oh! I think I’ll join her.”

  I stood and followed Bláithín. She was just entering a stall when I opened the door. We took care of business and paused at the mirror.

  “Tell me about this mystery man. Is he good looking?” I asked as I tried to fix my hair now that it wasn’t wet.

  She smiled as she touched up her makeup. “He’s older, but still a fine thing. He rides a motorcycle. He took me for a ride this weekend. It was the first time I’d ever ridden on the back of a motorcycle. It was a Harley and it was savage!”

  “Savage? Is that good?”

  She looked at me in the mirror, her face crinkling. She was trying to play it cool, but there was more to the story than she was telling. “Very.”

  I touched up my lips. “Was his hog the only thing you rode?”