by Doreen Alsen
“I have a feeling you didn’t tell me all about Bobby Lee.” He toasted her with his wine again. “So, we’re even.”
“We’re nowhere near even.” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Spill, Mr. Mason. Let me know why a hot, sensitive guy like you doesn’t have a Mrs. Mason and a boatload of darling children himself.”
He took a big swallow of Riesling. “I’ve come close, once, but it didn’t work out. Her name was Emma, and I thought we were happy. She just up and left me, no reason at all.” He shrugged. “Don’t know why. I tried again a time or two, but it just didn’t click. You know.” He speared a cucumber slice, considered it then popped it into his mouth. “No chemistry.”
No way. The man would have chemistry with a cabbage.
“It just never happened. I want a wife and kids, no question, but I never found the woman I wanted to share children with.”
She rubbed her hand over her stomach, hoping to alleviate the sudden queasiness creeping over her. Of course, he wanted children, children of his own.
Children she couldn’t give him, even if she wanted to.
Ainslie was saved from answering by a woman dressed in a white jacket and black and white checked pants. A chef’s toque perched precariously on her head. Carrying two plates, she sidled up to their table. “Nicole told me Dave Mason was here and ordering Riesling and brie instead of his trusty Sam Adams and shrimp puffs. I had to come out and see for myself.”
“Hi, Hope.” Dave leaned back in his chair. “Please meet my friend, Ainslie Logan. Ainslie, this is Hope Monahan, owner of Hope’s.”
Hope put the two plates down, one in front of Ainslie, the other in front of Dave. “I’ve been hearing a lot about you, Ainslie. Andi is totally wild about your Mirror on the Wall Ball.”
“It’s not my idea, originally.” Ainslie could feel her face warm up.
“Are you going to be at the meeting next week? I’m going to talk about the food.” Hope waved her hands to indicate the plates of food in front of them. “I couldn’t do authentic grits, so I whipped up some polenta to go with the chicken. I used freshly grated parmesan instead of cheddar. It’ll go better with the Dijon sauce for the chicken.” She chuffed a laugh. “I think I’ll need to take pictures of this because no one is going to believe that Dave Mason, food wimp extraordinaire, is eating polenta.” She smiled at Ainslie. “I’ll see you next week at the meeting.”
“Thanks, Hope.” Dave said, then looked at his plate like it might jump up and bite him.
Hope got straight A’s for presentation. The colorful plate showcased the food, with the chicken placed on top of the polenta, the crisp green beans speckled with red and yellow pepper shoots. “This looks delicious.” Ainslie forked up some of the polenta. It exploded with flavor when it hit her tongue. “Mm. Go ahead, try it.”
Dave pushed the polenta around with his fork. He reminded her of Patsy, whose diet contained about five items, none of them exceptionally healthy.
“Go ahead. It’s not poison. It won’t kill you.”
“That’s what you say.”
“It looks like we’re going to do this the hard way.” She scooped up another forkful of polenta and dipped it in the Dijon sauce. She licked her lips as she held the fork over the table for Dave. He dutifully opened his mouth, and his eyes sparked with light that wasn’t interest in polenta. Mesmerized by his gaze, she slid the food into his mouth. Dave put lips around the polenta and swallowed. She watched him swallow, lick his lips. It made her squirmy.
“It’s not as bad as it looks.”
Ainslie rolled her eyes, breaking the spell. “It’s better than okay. It’s amazing. You just don’t want to admit it.”
“But this isn’t grits, right? It’s polenta. What’s the difference?” Dave cut into his chicken and swabbed it into some of the Dijon sauce.
“Polenta’s Italian. Grits are southern. It’s just a name.”
“Okay, you win. Enough about grits. I’ll eat them all up.” Dave wiped his mouth with his napkin.
That gorgeous mouth, those amazing lips. She felt a hum run through her body. She shivered. She hadn’t felt very sexual since her hysterectomy. Mr. Dave Mason was waking up all sorts of things inside her. She realized he was staring at her, his gaze expectant. “I’m sorry. Would you kindly repeat that?”
He smiled as if he knew exactly what she was talking about. Sipping his wine, he studied her. “Are you going to be able to get to the game on Friday night?”
“Oh, don’t I wish. I have to work Friday night so I can chaperone the dance.” She shook her head. “I’d love to see Shanna cheer. I’m used to going to all her games and competitions. She says she doesn’t mind that I can’t get there, but I know otherwise.”
“I’m sorry about that.”
She shrugged it off. “It is what it is.”
“Hm.” He speared a green bean and studied it. “They’re good kids. You must be proud of them.”
Oh, he had no idea. Pride didn’t begin to describe what she felt for her children. They were the reason she got up in the morning, the reason for every breath she took.
And as much as she enjoyed his company and the way he made her feel, she would give him up if her children couldn’t handle her having a relationship with a man who wasn’t their father.
Chapter Thirteen
“Thanks for dinner,” Ainslie murmured to him as he walked her to her front door. “I had a wonderful time.”
“I hope it’ll be the first of many.”
She stopped at her porch steps, faced him, and took his hands. “Me too.”
“C’mere.” He coaxed her body in toward him. She didn’t put up a fight. Wrapping his arms around her, he dragged her close so he could kiss her.
Her response generous, her mouth softened and warmed against his. Her lips teased his, an erotic game of hide and seek. His tongue came out to play and raised the ante. She melted against him, humming a sweet note of pleasure. Their lips broke apart then came back together, clinging as their passion spun down.
He leaned his forehead on hers. “You really pack a punch. I wish we could explore this further.” He pressed his lips to the top of her head, as he nuzzled her hair.
She trembled in his arms. “I need to get in. The children, you know.”
He did. Moving her an arm’s length away, he said, “You need to go now then, while I can still let you.”
Her fingers came up to touch his mouth. “Thank you for dinner and everything.”
He kissed her fingers. “It was my pleasure. I’ll see you on Saturday, okay?”
“Yeah.” She dragged in a deep breath. “Saturday.”
“I’m counting the minutes.”
Her eyes twinkled. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
“I’ve never said it before to anyone.” Which was true.
“Well.” Ainslie’s smiled wilted a little. She tilted her head toward her front door. “I’ve got to get inside. I promised I’d be home in time to listen to Patsy read.” She went up on her toes and placed a kiss on his cheek. “Good night.”
“Good night.” He watched her walk up the three steps up to her porch and reach for the doorknob. Giving him one last look, she nodded.
Then, he remembered. “Wait! Your herbs!”
She came back to him. “Patsy would never forgive me if I didn’t come back with some foliage.”
He kissed her cheek as he handed the clay pot over. “Now, go away woman, while I still can let you go.”
“You’re such a bully.” She shook her head as she took the terra cotta pot of herbs and walked away. When she got to the top of the stairs, she looked back and blew him one last smooch for the road. He caught it with his hand.
Dave stood there watching her go into her house. Buzzed, aroused, he rubbed his hand over his heart.
Dave wanted more. A lot more.
****
“Hello! I’m home!” Ainslie put the pot of herbs down on a side table, slipped out of her jacket, a
nd hung it on the hook beside the front door.
“Momma! Hic!” Patsy screeched as she launched her self into her mother’s arms. Her face was tear-streaked, her nose was all snuffy, and she had the hiccups—a sure sign she was on the verge of a meltdown.
“Shh, baby. Everything’s okay.” Ainslie stroked her girl’s pretty blonde hair. “Why are you crying?”
Patsy hiccupped, her little chest spasming with the violence of it. “Don’t leave me by myself.”
“’Course I won’t leave you by yourself. Why do you think such a silly thing?”
Shanna came into the room. “Ruark’s been tellin’ her that she’s going to be left home alone because you’re going to the dance with Mr. Mason. I tried to tell her that it’s not true, but Ruark’s being a butt-head.”
That butt-head was nowhere to be seen. Ainslie would deal with him later. “I’ve got a babysitter all lined up for you, pumpkin. And I won’t be gone long anyway. It’s all set up.” She kissed Patsy’s cheek. “Now, how ’bout getting ready for bed, and I’ll come and listen to you read.”
“I want the song too.” Patsy loved “My Favorite Things” from Sound of Music. If Ainslie’d sung it once, she’d sung it a thousand times. She’d probably sing it a million times more.
Patsy loved that song to death.
“It’s a deal if you add brushing and flossing to getting ready for bed.”
“Do you want me to help her get ready while you talk to Ruark?” Shanna cheerfully shoved her twin under the bus with nary a qualm.
“No, I’ll get Patsy ready for bed. Have you finished your homework?”
“I’ve still got some reading to do.”
“Well, you’d best get to it, angel.” She knew Shanna would like nothing more than to see Ruark get in trouble. She was going to be disappointed. “Now, Patsy, scoot. Brush and floss, and I’ll be up soon to hear you read.”
“’Kay!” Patsy scampered off to her room, all drama gone without a trace.
Ainslie studied her older girl. Shanna looked like she had something to say, but she surprisingly kept it to herself. “Do you have something to tell me?”
Shanna bit her lip. “No, not really. I better go and get that reading done.”
“If you need to talk, you know where to find me.”
“Sure, Momma. I’ll read in the kitchen so you can talk to Patsy in our room.” She trotted off.
Ainslie stopped outside Ruark’s door, thought about knocking, but then decided not to. She’d get Patsy to bed, then deal with her boy. Something was up there, no doubt.
He probably had trouble seeing her go to dinner with someone who wasn’t his daddy. Give him time, and he’d come along.
Oh, how she wished Ruark would come around. She really wanted Dave Mason in their lives.
****
Ruark heard his momma stop outside his door. He hoped she wasn’t going to knock and come in, have some stupid conversation about his feelings.
She really didn’t want to know how he felt.
He didn’t know how he was going to make it through the Homecoming Dance. Having to pay attention to and pretend he liked Cecily, watching his sister dance with his worst enemy, and, worst of all, watching his mother be with Mr. Mason.
He knew he didn’t have a chance with Mr. Mason, but he wanted the fantasy. He needed the fantasy. Now it was ruined because Mr. Mason was dating his momma.
And that was pretty much so not going to happen if he could help it.
Chapter Fourteen
“So I hear you had a hot date last night.” Chelsea nudged Ainslie with her right elbow. They were both in The End Zone kitchen doing side work before their shifts.
“I don’t know if I would call it a big date.” Ainslie turned off the mixer she’d used to make whipped cream for desserts and for coffee drinks from the bar. Spike was well known for her Irish Coffee. “It was just dinner.”
“’Kay, if you say so.” Chelsea stopped shoving creamers into their place on the line. “Have you found a babysitter for the Homecoming Dance?”
“No, I haven’t. I thought Sandy could do it, but something came up, and she had to leave town.”
“I knew that.” She leaned against the walk-in. “I can baby-sit, if you’d like.”
Ainslie released the beaters from the mixer. “You’re not going to the dance?”
“There were enough chaperones, and I need to do some reading for my evaluation by my co-operating teacher. Your little girl is adorable. I’d love to take care of her. And you wouldn’t need to pay me.”
“Hm.” She dropped the beaters into a stainless steel bowl filled with warm soapy water. “You’d do that?”
“I wouldn’t have offered if I wouldn’t do it.” Chelsea sniffed. “If you don’t trust me to take care of Patsy, that’s okay.”
“No, not at all. Patsy’s met you and likes you,” Ainslie assured her. “I just don’t want to impose. You’re very generous.”
“I’m happy to do it.”
“Well, thank you. I’m very grateful.”
Smiling widely, Chelsea reached behind her to tighten the bow at the back of her apron. “Great!” She bopped her way out of the kitchen.
Ainslie watched her go. She was glad Patsy liked Chelsea. It was a burden off her mind.
****
On Friday evening, the cool air had a distinct snap to it. Fragrant with the scent of fallen leaves and the pep rally bonfire, the air crackled in the crisp October night.
Dave found a spot where he could get a good view of the cheerleaders. Even better, Andi and her father, pro-football coach god Deke Nelson, were already sitting there. Dave was relieved. He didn’t want people to get the idea that the principal was a pedophile.
“Hi, Dave. Why aren’t you sitting with the rest of the brass?”
“Hey,” Deke said. “I’m here. I’m brass.”
“Hi, Andi, Deke.” Dave pulled his camera out of its bag.
“Whatcha got there?” Deke bellowed. His voice had two volumes: Loud and blast. Several parents turned toward them at the sound.
Dave felt his face heat. “Ainslie can’t be here tonight and feels bad because she can’t see Shanna cheer. I’m taping the girls so she can see them.”
Deke cocked his head and looked at him, much like a dog did when he didn’t understand his master’s command. “You’re going to take pictures of the girls instead of watching the game?”
“It’s a favor to one girl’s mother. I’d do this for any other parent.”
“Hunh,” Deke grunted as he crossed his arms over his chest and turned his attention to the field. “The boys looked good yesterday in practice. Oughtta do some damage tonight.”
Dave, thankfully, was dismissed.
The girls were facing the crowd, jumping around, trying to get the fans revved. Dave started to shoot.
Beautiful and lively, in her element, Shanna cart wheeled like an Olympic gymnast. She had her mother’s dark hair and huge brown eyes. Those same eyes were snapping and sparkling as she egged on the crowd. Dave imagined Ainslie would have been as beautiful and full of life when she was a teen. She was still very beautiful, but she always looked so frazzled and tired.
He’d like to do something about that.
“Really. Videoing the cheerleaders for Ainslie.” Andi rooted through her purse and pulled out a Chapstick. “That’s very nice of you to do.” She rubbed some on her lips.
Dave didn’t need to look at her to know that she had a teasing smile on her face. “Okay, let me have it.”
“Have what? Are you embarrassed? I think it’s sweet.” She coated her lips with the Chapstick again, then plunked it back into her bag.
He swore under his breath. “That’s me.” He put down the camera and looked at her. “Don’t read too much into this.”
Andi pulled her jacket closer. “You’re acting positively dad-like.”
“You’re getting way ahead of yourself.”
“Am I?” Andi moved over as Ian
and Gina joined them. “Dave here is making a video of the cheerleaders tonight so Ainslie can see Shanna cheer.”
“No kidding.” Gina reached over and slapped him on the back. “That’s so cute.”
“No, it isn’t.” Dave’s teeth clenched so hard, he thought his jaw might break.
“What isn’t?” Ian plopped down onto the bench.
“Dave is so cute. He’s taping Shanna cheering so Ainslie doesn’t miss out seeing her.”
“Mate.” Ian took off his glasses and cleaned them on his tie. “No words.”
“He’s a regular boy scout,” Deke rumbled.
“Thanks for the support.” Dave glowered at them. “This is just me, being a good principal.”
“Absolutely,” Andi said. The roar of the crowd had her standing. “Time to rumble.”
Mike and his assistant coach came out of the tunnel to the gym. Andi put two fingers in her mouth and whistled loudly. Mike looked up, found her immediately, and grinned. Then he went back to serious business.
The cheerleaders set up a big frame covered with green and white spirit slogans, which they held up in front of the hallway to the home locker room. The Minutemen were announced, and the paper burst apart as the players tore it open and ran onto the field.
The girls cart wheeled, whooped, tumbled, jumped, and ran to the sidelines. They kept up a colorful litany of encouragement and whipped up the crowd into a frenzy.
Last season, the Minutemen had managed to lose every game they played, except for one. This year, they were doing better, mostly due to Mike’s believing in his team and Deke’s timely intervention. Deke’s interest in the team, as well as Andi’s twin brothers’, both pro-football stars, gave the kids a real boost. This year, they’d racked up a couple of wins and were ready to win this game.
Dave really wanted to watch, but he was afraid to take his attention off the cheerleaders. Since Deke was providing very colorful running commentary on the team and Mike’s choices, whether good or bad, Dave could follow the game.
Kinda, sorta.
Half time came, the score 10 to 7, in favor of the Minutemen. The stands emptied out to line up at the concession stand. He was practically alone in the stands, save for Gina and Andi.