“Everything you just said sounds amazing. If you swear it’s not an imposition.”
“Nope, and I only had the one beer. I’ll join Mason in a root beer float and bring him home by ten, okay?”
“Sure, sounds great.”
“Great.”
It feels like minutes, but I know it’s only seconds that we stare at one another. I wonder briefly if he’ll lean in to finish what he started before dinner. If he’ll kiss me again. If those perfect lips will lay themselves on mine and if those large hands will grasp me, pulling me to his rock-hard body. He doesn’t. Instead, he leans down and places a kiss on my cheek. It isn’t a huge gesture, but it’s the perfect one, and I smile in response.
I cannot believe I almost kissed Addison again. Sure, I’ve thought about doing nothing else the last few times I’ve seen her, but tonight was not the night for that. Tonight was about friendship and being there for Mason. When he saw my television and console, he started talking shit about how great he was at every game Xbox has ever put out. I called bullshit, and he said something along the lines of “prove it old man.” Little shit. So there seemed like no better time to prove that I am, in fact, the true master of the Xbox.
Then his beautiful mother sat in my kitchen, drinking wine, and making my house feel like a home for the first time. Her laughter is engaging and her wit keeps me on my toes. But it was the way she blushed anytime I caught her checking me out or the way she looked at me wide-eyed when I leaned in to capture her lips . . . those were the moments that have me wishing this was more than friendship.
“Dude, what’s your deal?” Mason asks, bringing me back to reality.
“Nothing. You tired of me kicking your butt yet?”
“As if you could. I’m just taking it easy on you.”
“Whatever. Look we only have about thirty minutes before I have to take you home. How about we turn this off and stop for some frozen yogurt on the way to your house?”
“I could eat some frozen yogurt.”
“I bet you could, man. Let’s do it. We should get your mom some too.”
“Why?”
“Why what? Why get your mom a frozen yogurt?” Mason shrugs. “Dude, first because your mom is a woman, and dessert is never turned down. Second, because you both had kind of a rough day, and it would make her smile. But mostly because she’s your mom and you should always do things to make her happy and smile.”
“Ah man, you like my mom. That’s gross.”
“I don’t—I mean, of course I like your mom. She’s nice.”
“No I mean like like. That’s totally gross. My mom is like, old.”
I begin to correct Mason and tell him his mother is not old and is in fact one of the most beautiful, kind, funny, and sexy women I’ve ever met. I want to tell him he’s lucky I have fucking restraint because I wanted nothing more than to scoop her up and devour her on my kitchen island. But I don’t. I don’t tell Mason anything, and I don’t respond to him. I simply smack him on the back of the head and grab a sweatshirt and my keys.
After a ten-minute argument at the frozen yogurt place, we pull up in front of Addison and Mason’s house only a few minutes late. I notice she actually lives on the same street as Minnie’s sister, Dakota, and I’m glad to see she’s close to friends.
Mason opens his door and reaches for the yogurt he made for Addison, but I grab it instead. “I’ll carry this, you get the door.” Mason simply shrugs in response and jogs up the short walkway to the front steps. When he reaches for the doorknob and it opens, I make a mental note to remind Addison to lock her door. Lexington is safe, but you can never be too vigilant, especially when you’re a woman living alone with a kid.
Mason left the door open for me but with my hands full, I begin to juggle the cups when the screen door opens. Standing before me is Addison in a tight pink tank top—and by the look of her pebbled nipples, no bra—low slung sleep pants with little hearts on them, and her hair piled high on her head. Her face is free of makeup and her skin is slightly pinkish like she was blushing or just out of a hot bathtub. The visual of the bathtub is a little more than I can handle, and I clear my throat, praying I don’t sport a boner like a horny teenager.
“Hey there. You didn’t have to walk Mason . . . Whatcha got there?”
“We stopped for yogurt. We weren’t sure what you’d like so we went with something safe—vanilla and chocolate swirl, chocolate chips, hot fudge, and whipped cream,” I reply while holding out the cardboard cup.
“No cherry?”
“Uh, what?”
“Cherry? No cherry? I freaking love cherries,” she says as she dips her spoon into the whipped cream and slowly pulls the spoon from her mouth.
Is she fucking kidding me? I’m going to have the hardest dick in the county in about ten seconds if she does that again or says the word cherry.
“I have a cherry on mine, you can have it.” I’m such a moron.
“I’ll never turn down a cherry. Why don’t you come in and eat these with us?”
I have no words. My mouth is like the damn Sahara Desert, and my dick is about to spring into action with her tight tank, perfect skin, and overuse of the word cherry. I nod and open the screen door the rest of the way and follow Addison into the house.
Her bungalow is small but decorated perfect for the size. The entryway opens to the living room, so I immediately spot the television hung on the wall and laugh at how disgusted Mason sounded at its size earlier. It’s not as big as mine, but it’s not tiny by any means. A small sectional sofa sits facing the television with end tables and lamps on either side. I’ve worked on enough houses in this neighborhood to know that the other side of the entryway leads to a small hallway which splits off to the kitchen in one direction and the two bedrooms and single bathroom in the other.
“It’s small but works for us.”
“It’s nice. Dakota lives down the street, but I’m sure you know that.”
“I know,” she begins as she takes a seat on the sectional, leaning into the corner with her feet tucked up so her yogurt is balancing on her knees. “I was over the moon when she told me where she lived. Turns out when we moved in, I saw her and Minnie at the house but obviously didn’t know them yet.”
I realize after taking a bite of my yogurt that Mason is nowhere to be found. “Where’s Mason? I thought you said ‘us’ eating yogurt?”
“I did. I’ll take that,” she says, leaning over and plucking the cherry from the top of my cup. “He’ll come out in a few minutes. I told him he needed to throw in a load of laundry before bed. If I don’t remind him, he’ll never do it and then tomorrow, he’ll be a royal pain in my ass when he has no clothes, and his life is over as a result.”
“Gotcha.”
Addison and I sit on the couch talking about nothing and everything while we finish our frozen yogurts. We talk so much that my yogurt turns to soup, and I tilt the bowl up to drink the last bit of it. When I finish I take her container and walk toward the kitchen, realizing Mason never came to the living room to join us. As I’m tossing the empty containers into the trash, I jump when a voice speaks behind me.
“You sure know your way around my house, Landon Montgomery.”
“Nah, I know my way around this floor plan, Addison Sinclair. I’ve worked on a lot of homes in this area. Older homes mean heating and air conditioning issues.”
“Well, it’s good to know a good HVAC guy in case I need one.”
“I should be going; it’s getting late. Thanks for hanging out with me tonight.”
“Thank me? Oh please,” she says with a giggle. “I need to thank you. If it wasn’t for you, I would’ve come home to eat pizza again, and tried to cheer up a bummed out kid. Instead, you fed us, gave me wine, hung with my kid so I could come home and relax, and then brought me chocolate. I’m pretty sure I owe at least three dinners in reciprocation.”
“Okay, three sounds good. How about the next three Friday nights? You and me, dinner.” Th
e words are out of my mouth before I can even process them, and my eyes go wide. Addison tilts her head and crosses her arms. I realize now that she’s standing in front of me, just how tiny and petite she is. When we danced on New Year’s Eve, she was in heels, so I didn’t give it much thought. At my house, she was sitting a majority of the time. But now? Standing before me, it’s noticeable, and I have an urge to pick her up.
“Three Friday nights of you and me? Those sound like dates, Landon.” I can’t read her tone. It’s not accusatory, but it’s also not endearing.
“Why not? Look, Addison,” I begin.
“Why won’t you call me Addy? I’ve asked you to and yet, you continue to call me Addison.”
I step forward, not too close so I’m invading her personal space, but enough so Addison can see me, feel what I’m saying, and understand my sincerity. I have to bend my knees a bit—okay, a lot—to get eye level with her, but when I do I see her eyes twinkle with a little mischief. So, I gamble.
“I don’t call you Addy because to me you’re an Addison. An Addy is a girl, a young woman, who doesn’t know who she is or where she’s going in life. You, Addison Sinclair, are a vivacious, beautiful, sexy woman who has lived life and knows exactly who she is.” At my response, Addison’s eyes enlarge and her lips part, forming an O. Looks like the gamble paid off.
“I had fun with you on New Year’s, and I had fun with you tonight. I’d like to hang out more. No pressure and no stress. What do you have to say to that?”
“I . . .”
“Great. Sounds like we have an agreement. I’ll touch base with you next week about dinner. Have a good night, Addison.” I lean forward and place a kiss to her cheek close to the corner of her lips and walk away.
When I get to my truck, I exhale like I’ve been holding my breath under water for ten minutes. I’ve never met a woman who could turn me inside out, make me say the things that are on my mind and not things I think they want to hear. No woman has intrigued me like Addison does. And no woman has challenged me like I expect she will.
“I saw Landon’s truck at your house last night.”
“Dakota,” Minnie hisses. We’re sitting in what has become our regular booth at the diner after Saturday morning yoga. Ashton and Piper joined us again and suddenly all four of my tablemates are staring at me, obviously expecting a response.
“He was.” I take a few sips of my coffee before setting the cup down and picking up my fork to finish my omelet.
“And?” Ashton asks as Dakota echoes.
“And nothing. He brought Mason home and came inside for a bit and maybe asked me out,” I say, mumbling the last part of my sentence.
“Excuse me what was that? I think you said he asked you to bang.”
I cough on my coffee at Ashton’s comment and my eyes blink as I use my napkin to wipe my face. She puts it all out there, doesn’t she?
“Uh, I did not say that. I said he asked me out. At least, I think he did. Hell, I don’t know. I need to tell him no to the dinners.”
“Dinners? Explain,” Piper says.
Taking a deep breath, I explain what happened last night with Landon. I start with my arrival at his house and end with Landon kissing my cheek. I leave out the details of how my pulse quickened anytime he looked at me, how the way his tongue peeked out between his kissable lips as he cooked, and I absolutely do not tell them how much I thought of him while I took a bubble bath. But, none of the omissions stop me from looking like a love-sick teenager when I place my fingers to the spot on my cheek where Landon kissed me. Twice.
I wish I can say I was stunned stupid when he asked me out, not just out, but to three consecutive dinners. Three weekends out together. It’s been a million years since I’ve dated, but I know that’s more than two friends hanging out. Even before Nela moved to London, we rarely made plans weeks in advance, and she’s my best friend.
I mean it when I say I need to call Landon and tell him no dinners. It doesn’t matter that Landon ignited something in me that’s been dormant for years. His touches are like tiny matches of fire and I’m weak to them. Regardless of how attracted I am to him, and not only for his drop-dead good looks but also because he’s funny and amazing with my kid, I cannot go out on a date with him.
“Ah, Addy! You’re smitten!” My gaze shoots to Minnie, who has a huge smile on her face. “I get it, Landon Montgomery is a catch. He’s kind and smart. Don’t get me started on his ass. I swear to God . . . what? Come on, you all know I’m right.” The girls all begrudgingly agree, and we laugh.
“I am not ‘smitten’,” I say with air quotes. “Besides, at this stage of my life, dating is about more than dinner and a few laughs. If, and I mean that’s a big ole if, I date someone, I want it to go somewhere. I’m too old for games, and I have no interest in dating for the sake of dating. It’s not who I am.”
“I get it,” Dakota says, and I offer her a small smile in understanding. Dakota is nowhere near ready to date, but we’ve talked a bit over a cup of tea while sitting on her porch, and I know she’s lonely and working her way back to moving forward with her life after losing her husband.
“Look, Addy, I’m not saying you have to have a fling, or even a second date; I’m only saying Landon is a catch. He’s Owen’s best friend, and I don’t think you could do better than him. But that ass . . .”
We all laugh, and the topic is dropped. I hear what the girls are saying, but at the end of the day, my life isn’t my own. I have a son, and he is my priority, always. As much as I’d love to go on a date with someone like Landon, it’s silly to think that way. He is a young guy and shouldn’t be wasting his time with me.
The weekend flies by and while Mason seems to put the events of Friday behind him, when I drop him off at school I see a glimmer of the kid he was before we moved to Lexington. I see the frustration and anger brewing under the surface, and my mom hackles are instantly engaged. This time, though, instead of just saying goodbye, I stop him before he exits the car and tell him I can see a storm brewing inside him. I also tell him to go balls to the walls in gym class and burn off the aggression. He laughs at my use of the word balls and agrees.
Walking into the office I’m greeted with a very quiet waiting area, and I know one thing about general practice on a Monday morning—quiet is a bad thing. I don’t jinx the peacefulness by saying anything aloud, and instead I walk to the breakroom and store my purse and silence my phone. I contemplate sending Dan a text to call him out on his idiotic move with that photo but decide engaging him is the last thing I want to do today.
The morning is seamless, the typical calm before the storm. When the storm will hit is anyone’s guess.
We make it until ten minutes after lunch and then all hell breaks loose and the formerly quiet waiting room begins filling with patients. See, I knew it was too good to be true. I grab a piece of caffeine gum from my purse and toss it in my mouth before heading out to call the first patient of a very long afternoon.
As much as I enjoyed the slow and steady morning, the fast-paced afternoon makes time fly by. I weigh and measure patients from six months old to ninety today and each one is kind and thankful. By the time the last patient arrives, I’ve seen twelve patients and spoken to six on the telephone since lunch.
When I leave the last patient in the exam room to wait for Dr. Burning, I throw myself into a chair and sigh. Exhaustion is an understatement, but regardless of how tired I am or how much my feet hurt, I also feel a completeness. I love working in this office and caring for the people of Lexington.
The woman I just left with the doctor is exactly why we moved here. As soon as I called her name, Mrs. Montgomery wrapped me in a hug and began regaling me with tales of her children and grandchildren: a daughter, two sons, an upcoming wedding for someone, and what sounded like half dozen grandchildren. By the time I was taking her blood pressure, she was inviting me to Sunday dinner. I think there was mention of a son who is single, but I can’t be sure.
I declined her dinner invitation. She insisted and refused to accept no as my final answer. I promised maybe another weekend. That concession seemed to pacify her, for now.
Looking at the clock, I notice how late it is and quickly rise and rush to my phone to check on Mason. I see three missed texts from him, the last only ten minutes ago. Grabbing my phone, I sit at the table and click the message icon.
Mason: Don’t forget I’m working today after school.
Mason: Uncle T said he’d pick me up and I think we’re going to get some burritos at Rosa’s
Mason: We’re at Rosa’s and Uncle T says you need to speak now if you want food.
Me: Hey, sorry I missed you before. Work is CRAZY! Tell Uncle T to hush. But not until you tell him I want 4 street tacos.
Mason: Got it. See you at home.
Me: Love you, kid.
Mason: Love U 2
The little shit. He knows I hate text shorthand. He’s being a little snarky but in a teasing way, which means it’s a good day. Thank goodness. I should text Landon now and cancel dinner. It’s been weighing on me all day and I need to just do it. Ah, speak of the devil.
Landon: Don’t freak out, I got your number from Mason for emergencies.
Landon: Oh, it’s Landon.
Me: I know. I got YOUR number from Mason for the same reason.
Landon: I just wanted to tell you to dress casually but warm for Friday. I’ll pick you up at six.
Me: About that.
Landon: Nope. You are not backing out on me. It’s dinner Addison. Don’t make it more than it has to be.
Ass, he has me there. I am making it more than it is. He said dinner. He never said more. I’m the one having runaway thoughts. I’m the one with fantasies of him kissing me and running his hands up my body. Damn, it’s hot in here. I see one final text from Landon.
Landon: And, yes I told both your son and your brother we’re going to dinner. AS FRIENDS. Everyone needs friends Addison.
Me: Stop being logical. Fine but I’m paying for my dinner.
Bourbon & Bonfires Page 9