Especially when that (sexy, sexy) woman showed up at his door with a pie and an invitation for dinner.
Yet, right after she left, there had been a ring on my doorbell, and when I answered it, there was an extravagant box of expensive chocolates on my doorstep where the roses had been. The note with the chocolates said: “In case the roses weren’t clear, I bought you these—delicious, irresistible chocolates. Treats for your mouth, since you gave me such a delicious unexpected treat to mine this afternoon. (If you come over to my house, I’ll give you more treats … or we can just talk. I’m up for either, since I’m your “boyfriend” and everything. That’s what you said earlier tonight, right?—to a room full of people?)
I went up in flames. When I could finally breathe (semi)normally again, I quickly wrote him a note and slid it under his door. It said, “Thanks for the chocolates, and the rescue, and for being so sweet to Toby. I will accept your delicious chocolates, as you’re right they are irresistible, and I apparently I can’t resist (I’ve already eaten three, while writing this note in which I was going to refuse your chocolates, but alas, I will just have to refuse you and your heartbreaker pick-up lines.) But again, thank you! I truly appreciate your save today (and—ahem—the save the other morning as well.) Enjoy your dinner with Miss Sexy-Skirt, and your pie.”
I stuck the note under his door, and then placed his beautiful roses on his doorstep, figuring he could give them to his Sexy Betty-Crocker date tomorrow night. But only moments later, there was another ring on my doorbell, and when I answered it the roses were back on my doorstep with another note.
The note said: “She was only thanking me for fixing her flat the other day. What, was I supposed to turn her down? and if so which one—helping her, or her thank you? Please tell me girlfriend, as I’m out of practice at being a boyfriend. I thought we were supposed to—I don’t know, talk?—before jumping into a relationship. But hey, I am all for jumping in with you—quite ecstatic to do so, actually. Thank you for this coveted position that I’ve been craving since high school. I will treat it with the utmost reverence and revered care and I will not let you down, kindergarten girlfriend—I promise.”
Flirt!
He totally overlooked the part in my note where I said I was rejecting him.
Rolling my eyes, I read the rest of his note: “Should I call Sexy-Skirt and tell her I’m in a relationship and can’t accept her pie?”
I wrote him back and told him to accept it and the date, and to please re-read my other note.
Late that night, he had serenaded me at my window—just as he had done once when we were little kids—the same sweet song and everything. My heart had turned to mush—both times. But back then I’d been naive and thought I could keep him to myself forever. But now I knew better. So I quickly threw a dollar bill down to him and told him to go serenade Sexy-skirt. “I’m sure she can tip better,” I told him, then shut my window and went back to bed. But didn’t sleep. Of course. Instead, I kept asking myself what had I brought upon myself with that kiss this afternoon? It seemed to have turned my grieving, but slowly healing world on its ear. Now I had a heartbreaker player serenading me in the middle of the night, and was stuck with steamy fantasies of the guy. Well, more fantasies of him. Ones that were much more real now—since I’d now actually experienced his wonderful kiss for real. Groan.
I stared pleadingly into his eyes now as we stood in the crowded chapel.
“Okay, no stalking,” Justin said, obviously taking my words to heart.
His lips quirked a weak smile. “Only you’re going to have to ignore what’s on your doorstep when you get home.” His eyes flickered back to mine. “It’s those cookies you taught me to bake—the ones with the cinnamon.”
I closed my eyes, refusing to let them fill with tears. Just focused on breathing. In … and out. Just concentrating on that—only that—and not the fact he had baked me cookies. Or remembered the fact we had baked them together all those years ago.
Yet now that was all that was in my dazzled mind …
Holy smokes, Justin Hanson baked me cookies!!!
Justin intently watched me breathe in silence, then drew in a breath, “Okay, no stalking,” he said again, this time like he was marking it on a list. Like this was how he was going to gain my trust—by following a list. He wet his lip, “What else?”
“Don’t come to my parent’s house for dinner. Please.” My voice hitched as I said that.
He closed his eyes. But all he said was, “Aw.”
“Just go on your sexy-skirt date,” I said.
“Faith, I already cancelled it.”
His gorgeous eyes gazed at me with this look that seemed to say: how could you think otherwise?
But I’ll tell you how I could—because I told him not to cancel it. Plus, the lady was gorgeous. Not only that, she could bake a perfect pie. How could I compete with that? I couldn’t. I couldn’t even compete with the ditzy woman that tempted my cheating husband away. If I couldn’t keep him, the father of my child who I was married to, how could I expect to keep the interest of a smokin’ hot hockey player? I couldn’t even grasp why he was bothering with his steamy player skills on me. I felt worthless and unappealing after being married to Chad for so long—and even more so once he started cheating on me. So this suddenly being single stuff was new and confusing. And unnerving. And I wasn’t ready for it. Wasn’t ready to have someone like handsome teasing Justin Hanson actually looking sincere—and interested. Actually, even more than interested. Gulp.
I quickly collapsed into the nearest pew before I simply collapsed, since my knees were suddenly wobbly and I seemed to have forgotten how to breathe.
No, I wasn’t ready for this.
Justin’s eyes watched me like he could see that.
He drew out a breath and sat in the pew behind me, since I didn’t leave room for him.
After church he told my parents, “I guess I won’t be able to make it to your dinner after all.” His eyes looked to me really quick before he murmured to my mom, “I’m sorry. I was really looking forward to it, but I guess when some people say you’re their boyfriend, what they really mean is stay away from me—I just want to use your skillful mouth.”
I rolled my eyes, since he was once again teasing me.
With a playful grin he told my mom, “I guess I’m out of the loop on this stuff—it’s all very confusing. I’m just really not up on these things.”
My mom looked confused, but sympathetic. “Well, our Faith isn’t up on these things either. She hasn’t gone on a single date yet since her divorce.”
Justin raised his eyebrows. “Is that so?”
“I’m afraid it is. She’s had some rotten luck with men—it’s made her wary.”
Justin’s jaw muscles flickered. Maybe he knew he was part of that “rotten luck” my mom was talking about. Maybe he knew he started me on my path of being “wary.”
He gave me a quick sideways peek, then nodded slightly, like he was accepting it, I was “wary” yet he had a sexy, very non-wary grateful pie-maker waiting in the wings. Suddenly he seemed in a hurry.
“I’ll see you around, Faith,” he said, then he added with an ironic grin, “—whether you want me to or not, I guess, since I live right next door, sorry.” He gave me a (playful) contrite grin as he said that, then he added, “You look amazing in that dress, by the way.”
Then he was out the door, off to re-connect with the pie-maker, no doubt.
My heart fell realizing that. It huuurt! But I told myself it was better this way. Better a little pang in my heart now than let it get broken again. After all, it wouldn’t be fair to Toby. No one wants a grieving, hurting mom. Right? I needed to be sensible and level-headed for him.
I needed to tell myself that, because it was looking very doubtful that I could remain level-headed for myself.
CHAPTER 10
Okay, let’s recap: Justin had gone to church on my account, and he had made me cookies. (!!!) Those were
some skillful player moves, right? I knew I was headed right back on my way to heartbreak city, since that was all I could think about for the rest of the day—that Justin had gone to church for me, and made me cookies. And hey, don’t forget about that amazing kiss. I sure couldn’t forget it.
The only thing that made me come crashing back to earth was knowing that he already gave up on me. It apparently finally sunk into him that I was “wary.” Who knew that I needed my mom to tell him that?
In any case, sigh, he seemed to now get it. I was wary and not just playing hard to get—I was actually hard to get. Impossible, even. Or anyway, he seemed to think that now. Though he didn’t seem to broken up about it, the way he had dashed out of the church, probably on to his next player interest. One of his many.
So, that had me down. Then my ex-husband, Chad, finished me off. When I asked him if I could please take Toby to church with me on Sundays—even when it was Chad’s turn to have him—Chad acted like I had some big, evil agenda, instead of just: church.
He gritted his teeth. “Don’t start trying to make me feel guilty for not going to church anymore, Faith.”
“I wasn’t Chad,” I told him incredulously. “I wasn’t saying anything about you. Nothing about you.”
“Well, maybe you should talk about me. I’m his dad—me. And I don’t like that you’re suddenly acting all cozy with that jerk Justin Hanson—yeah, I heard he went to church today. Some big act he has going Faith, don’t buy it. The man is a player, he’s dating every available woman in town.”
Funny, I’d heard the same thing about Chad. But I bit my lips together to keep from informing him of this. I didn’t want to fight. I just wanted our son to come to church.
Chad scoffed, still ranting about Justin. “I heard you two didn’t even sit together though, so the guy was probably there for some other woman anyway, right? Right Faith? Your whole big scene yesterday was just an act … right?”
“Whatever you say, Chad.”
“Look, you told me before that the guy is a heartbreaker—that he broke your heart and every other girl’s at your high school. Other women are telling me the same thing.”
“What’s your point, Chad?”
“Stay away from the guy, Faith.”
I drew out a breath. “If you’re worried about the condition of my heart—it’s you I should stay away from Chad. But you have no say in who I do, or don’t date.”
“Fine, then you have no say in who I date, Faith. And for your information, Toby and I are going to go out to dinner with my ‘date’ right now.”
“He has school tomorrow.”
“Right. Don’t worry, he won’t spend the night with her—but I will.”
My heart squeezed.
It didn’t hurt nearly as bad is it used to, but it still caused immense pain realizing that the man I’d been married to for over a decade had lost all sense of morality.
“Chad,” I said, trying to remain civil, “please try to think about the example you’re setting for your son.”
Chad clenched his teeth.
You know how I said I didn’t want to fight with him? Well, the conversation turned into an agonizing huge fight.
By the time Chad left, I was near tears. Life was not going the way I’d planned.
I went for a walk to clear my head. Soon I found myself at the cemetery, where I usually end up when I need to find peace. My best friend in the whole world, Rachel, is buried here. She died in a car accident our junior year of high school. I miss her so much. It’s hard not to have a best friend around. Especially at times like this.
With all my heart I longed to talk to her again. Talk to her about all this trauma going on in my life—talk to her about anything. I miss her so much.
I stood in front of her grave, still near tears. I had so much I wanted to say to her. I just stood there, staring at her grave a long, long time, kind of saying a silent prayer to her, “I miss you,” I told her in my head. “I need my best friend. I feel alone.”
Just then I heard a voice—soo gentle, as though not to scare me. You know, since I was standing alone in a dark cemetery and everything.
The voice was tender and concerned with just the tiniest hint of teasing, “Not thinking about joining her, are you?”
I jolted at the unexpected voice. Then jolted again when I saw who it was. Who had been silently watching me—Justin.
I blinked at him, my lips parting slightly.
He tilted his head, his voice still half-concerned, half-teasing, “You’re not … right?”
“Uh … no. I mean, a little bit, maybe—but no.”
He grins slightly, but it’s sympathetic. Still his words are said around a playful grin, “That wasn’t very reassuring, Faith. Now I’m going to have to watch you all night.” His eyes twinkle, “—just for your own safety.”
He’s only kidding. Of course. He’s seems quite aware there is no need to take any sort of measures to keep me from offing myself. I can tell he’s enjoying this—getting to tease me … yet at the same time, he still seems the tiniest bit concerned. Just a teeny, tiny bit. But it’s keeping his voice really gentle, and his eyes tender—even as he’s teasing me. Like he knows I’m not going to off myself, yet I’m having a thoroughly lousy moment, and maybe he feels my pain—I mean, he’s in the cemetery too. You don’t normally hang out here just to meet people. Not even Heartbreaker Hanson. It’s kind of a sad place, for sad people—grieving people.
So, the tiniest pang goes through me.
I know his mom is buried in this cemetery. As Justin and I stare at each other now, we both know this fact—that I know. I had sent him a sea-shell after she died—it was this “thing” we had back in grade school. I wouldn’t have sent it to him, but he sent me one when Rachel died, and it had made me cry bittersweet tears. I wonder if my shell to him did the same. I doubt it. After all, he’s Heartbreaker Hanson.
But his face goes kind of blotchy for a moment. “Thanks for the shell,” he says. “—and the note. It meant a lot.”
I have to look away, since I suddenly, inexplicitly, have tears in my eyes and my heart is in my throat.
“Thanks for your shell too,” I whisper once I can manage words.
He clears his throat, but his voice still comes out husky, “Sorry I didn’t write a note.”
The shell from him had touched me beyond words. If he would have added actual words—no. My heart would have broke all over again.
I shook my head, trying to brush off his apology about the note. “The shell meant a lot to me, Justin. Thank you.”
If he hadn’t sent it to me, I would have never dared send one to him when his mom died. I would have ached and longed to do it—but I wouldn’t have dared, believing he wouldn’t have cared, or remembered. When Rachel died and I got his, I had bawled. It’s funny, but I’d blocked that out of my mind since we became neighbors again—that he had sent me that truly touching gift—that heartwarming sea-shell that was so dear and meant so much.
Justin cleared his throat again, “Listen, can we go somewhere and talk for a while?”
His voice had been hesitant, but now it takes on his normal teasing, “I mean, since I’m now on duty,” he raises his eyebrows, “—suicide-watch.”
I roll my eyes and grunt. “I don’t need to be watched.”
His grin grows, “I beg to differ.”
He’s flirting!
Right now. In a cemetery.
Of course the guy will flirt anywhere. He’s had so much practice, he can’t help himself.
He says softly, “Look, just let me make sure you’re okay … okay? I’ll take you to get a milkshake—a chocolate-banana milkshake, your favorite. If you turn me down, that will be a true sign that you are not alright and I’ll be forced to do some type of intervention—something way more dramatic than a milkshake. You don’t want that, do you Kindergarten Girlfriend?”
I’m shocked beyond belief that he remembers that my favorite milkshake flavor is choco
late-banana. Not even my own mom remembers that. She always gets me chocolate-marshmallow and says it all proud, “That’s your favorite right?”
No. It’s not, Mom. It’s nice and all. But not my favorite.
Yet Justin remembers.
He’s making me feel all warm and gooey tonight, what with his sea-shell reminder, and now this. And it sure doesn’t hurt that his eyes keep being on me like that—all sweet and concerned, yet at the same time kind of longing. (Mmmm.)
And …
Since I had just been (in my head, and heart) asking my best friend to give me guidance in my present situation—you know, with Chad—I take this moment as a sign and thank Rachel (in my head).
I’d needed a distraction from my thoughts of Chad.
Justin is definitely a distraction.
CHAPTER 11
I reluctantly let Justin take me out for a milkshake at this place called, “Slugger’s.” It’s a fifty’s style restaurant that is popular with the whole town—and coincidently the only place you can get a chocolate-banana milkshake.
… but I soon got the feeling Justin brought me to the restaurant simply because he likes a woman that works here. Her name is Daisy Turner. She’s a looker, that’s for sure, and just as an FYI: she refused to wait on him, though he requested her to be our waitress multiple times.
“Come on, Daisy,” he said every time she passed our table.
She would reply, “Drop dead,” every time, and once she even gave him a balled up shake of her fist.
Justin had only grinned about it, then turned back to me with a sheepish smirk, “She seems to hate me, huh?”
“Kind of,” I playfully understated, and couldn’t help grinning back at him, since it was quite OBVIOUS she hated him. Big time.
His grin grew, “I don’t get it—I try to be nice to her. She won’t even give me a chance to talk to her.”
I smirked, “Well, obviously she already knows about you.”
He tilted his head. “Okay, go on with that,” he says, sounding more than a little curious. But of course he has to already know. He has to.
The Heartbreaker Next Door (The Hockey Team Book 1) Page 4