She couldn’t help but imagine who Mike would have been. No doubt the bad boy with the loud car who skipped class and melted hearts with his stare. Also the one who made out with a different girl every weekend and had fathers everywhere reaching for their guns. Yep, she wouldn’t have gotten a second glance from a teenage Mike. Not that she could have anyway, considering he was years younger than she was. She decided not to think about that because she was getting a lot of looks—and touches—from him now. Anne snapped out of her daydream and realized that Callie was chatting about drill team camp in July and costumes. She pulled it together and nodded. She was so happy for her friend.
“So how will this work with the shop?” Anne asked.
“Well, I told the principal that ideally the girls would practice right after school four days a week. That’s our slow time, so Eric will just close up the shop for me on Monday through Thursday, and maybe a few other random times. He’s been really great about this. Of course there will be games and such, but they will be in the evenings. It will all work out, even if I have to hire someone else. Dancing was my life for so long, and I miss it terribly.”
“Wow, that’s so great, I’m glad you’re doing something with your talent, Cal. And you know I’ll be willing to help with the shop whenever I can.”
“Thank you, Anne. That means a lot. Let’s hope I don’t make a fool out of myself. Now, next on the agenda, let’s discuss this gigantic cake for the Monsers’ sweet sixteen party.”
* * *
Friday night Mike stepped out of the scalding-hot shower and grabbed the towel from the wall rack. It had been a long day, the majority of which included his body doing unnatural things. Not the good kind that included a partner, but the ones that involved him leaning so far over the engine that his calves cramped or lying on his back under the car for an hour. He couldn’t complain, though; he made a living doing what he loved, even if he had to frequently pop ibuprofen to get through it.
He scrubbed at his wet hair and then used the towel to wipe the steam from the mirror. Hot showers at the end of the day were a necessity to wash away the grease and the smell of old car, and to ease the muscles. Today’s scrub had included another bonus: thoughts of Anne, which, if he was truthful, were becoming a habit. Jesus, he smiled just thinking of her.
The way she’d looked at him the other day, his hands stroking her, her release hitting her while their eyes locked. He’d replayed the scene over and over in his head a million times since Tuesday. Tomorrow’s date couldn’t come soon enough.
After brushing his teeth and throwing on a pair of basketball shorts, Mike sprawled out on his tiny double bed. He flipped on the TV and tried to relax as he switched from channel to channel. Nothing was capturing his attention. Either that or he was incredibly distracted.
He picked up his cell phone and glanced at the time. It was just after ten o’clock. He suddenly had a painful urge to talk to Anne and he wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He’d dated a lot of women, some he’d liked a lot, and some were … okay. But never before had he craved conversation with a woman like he had Anne. He wondered if it was too late to text her.
He flipped to the news and watched a story about the rise of skin cancer in teenagers who used tanning beds. Yep, the news pretty much sucked. He turned the TV off and picked his phone back up. Fuck it, he was gonna do it.
MIKE: You awake, Perfect?
He stared at the screen, willing her to respond. After five minutes he considered just calling. Or maybe not. She was probably asleep, or not by her phone, or maybe she just chose not to respond. Or maybe you need to get over it.
He laid his phone on the tiny bedside table and was reaching for the lamp when the phone dinged. He snatched it up and opened the message.
ANNE: Yes. Can I help you, Uncle Mike?
He grinned. Damn, he loved it when she called him that. It reminded him of the day he’d first laid eyes on her in her pink dress with flowers from head to toe. She’d been so beautiful. She was always beautiful. He typed out a reply.
MIKE: I certainly wish you were here to help me.
He was relieved to see the bubble pop right up that let him know she was typing.
ANNE: And how exactly would I be of service?
And even more relieved to see that she was willing to play along.
MIKE: That’s a dangerous question, Perfect. What are you good at?
ANNE: I don’t know.
MIKE: I don’t believe that. I can think of many things.
ANNE: You’re trying to butter me up.
MIKE: Good idea, can we do that tomorrow? I’ll bring the butter.
ANNE: Butter is bad for you.
MIKE: I like things that are bad.
ANNE: YOU’RE bad.
MIKE: But you like me.
ANNE: Yes I do.
He hadn’t been sure how she would respond, but her easy admission made him grin.
MIKE: I like you too.
What was she going to say to that? What did he want her to say? And why the hell was he lying here in bed worrying about shit like this? He wasn’t thirteen anymore. This was fucking ridiculous.
ANNE: I’m excited for tomorrow. I better get to sleep.
Ah, she was going to put a stop to it. Okay, so maybe it had gotten a little awkward. What the hell was he doing?
MIKE: Good night, Perfect.
ANNE: Good night, Uncle Mike.
Lying back in the darkness, Mike tried to make sense of everything he was feeling. In a very short period of time things had started crossing into uncharted territory. He liked women, he enjoyed them, and he respected them. But he liked Anne. He hadn’t been lying or trying to butter her up. Well, maybe a little. He was still dying to see her naked. But it was more than that. If he knew tomorrow had no chance of nakedness, he would still want to be with her. Talk to her, listen to her laugh, date her.
Getting to know Anne in person was amazing, but the combination of the real Anne and the one he read on her blog made her dynamic and interesting. He sometimes felt like he was peeking in on something sacred and private when he read the comments she exchanged with her readers. She was a special person, to everyone. Even if someone left a not-so-kind message—which really chapped his ass when it happened—she replied with friendliness, validating their opinion and trying to find a common ground. She had a sort of kindness and class that many woman he met didn’t. He admired her, and he’d never felt this kind of awe for a woman he was attracted to.
It occurred to him that they had never discussed her blog. Strange. Would she never mention it to him? He realized he really wanted her to share every part of herself with him.
Fourteen
Saturday afternoon Anne scrolled back through the previous evening’s text conversation with Mike. She’d probably read through it ten—or a hundred—times.
I like you too.
Four words that made her heart pound in excitement and panic simultaneously. She liked lots of people in varying degrees. The degree was a critical part of the equation, so what was it between the two of them? Sparks definitely flew when they were together, but that kind of heat was physical. Surely he couldn’t have serious feelings for her this soon. They really didn’t know that much about each other, though they were starting to.
He’d shared some of his past, and she’d shared a little about herself with him, about being adopted. But in truth her blog followers still knew more about her than Mike, and yet he’d already given her a mind-blowing orgasm—practically in public. She’d thought of that incident more than a hundred times for sure, and it never failed to bring a smile to her face.
“Why are you so happy, Mommy?” Claire asked as she stepped into Anne’s bathroom.
“Oh nothing, baby. Actually, I’m excited for you to go to Bailey’s tonight. You have to promise me you’ll be on your best behavior.”
Claire sat on the toilet seat lid while Anne applied her mascara. She’d decided to put some waves into her hair and leave it long. She’d g
one a little more dramatic on her eyes and even lined her lips. Mike had said to dress casual and she honestly wasn’t sure what that meant to a guy so she’d chosen some navy shorts, a white embroidered tank top, and strappy leather sandals.
She’d even gone to the nail salon downtown and had her toenails painted a bright red to match the chunky beaded necklace she’d picked up at Sweet Opal Designs. It was one of her favorite little boutiques down on Main Street and was owned by Brooke Abbott, who was quickly becoming a good friend to Anne and the other MPLL ladies.
“I promise to be good. Can I take my flower pillow?”
Anne used her fingers to put the finishing touches on her hair. “Of course. Are you about ready?”
“Yep.” Claire scrambled off the toilet and into her bedroom to retrieve her things.
Anne was to have Claire to Erin’s house at two o’clock, and Mike was picking her up at three. She wondered why so early but didn’t ask any questions. She was looking forward to the surprise.
After loading Claire and her overnight items into the car they headed a little way into the country to Erin’s. Anne had been there only once, when Claire had been invited to Bailey’s party in February. Although the girls were best friends, she didn’t know Erin and Todd Wilson very well. She did know that he was gone most of the time traveling for work, which was why she had assumed that Mike was Bailey’s father because she’d never met him. Remembering that day when he’d introduced himself made her smile. She’d been quite happy to hear that he was Uncle Mike.
Anne pulled into the long driveway and parked in front of the white colonial home. She didn’t know what Todd or Erin did, but they obviously did well for themselves. She gathered up the pink suitcase and flower pillow and followed Claire up to the front door.
Anne was beyond nervous about the conversation she was about to have with Erin, even though they’d already spoken briefly. Erin had called Wednesday morning and invited Claire to spend the night, not-so-subtly joking that her brother had strongly suggested it was necessary. They’d both chuckled awkwardly and made the arrangements. Anne hoped Erin was truly okay with this; she didn’t want to do anything that might affect Claire’s friendship with Bailey.
The front door opened and Bailey rushed out to throw her arms around Claire’s neck before both girls disappeared into the house. Erin emerged onto the front step in a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt.
“Hellooo,” she chimed. It sounded cheerful enough, but Anne didn’t know her well enough to be sure what the other woman was thinking. “Come in so we can talk, it’s getting hot out here.”
Great.
The interior of the house was well decorated in a perfect combination of modern and country. Anne liked it a lot and told Erin so.
“Thanks, I think I finally got it how I want it.” She plopped down on a leather couch and nodded for Anne to do the same. “Now. Tell me of this magic you worked on my brother.”
Anne went still in a plaid wingback chair and raised her eyes to Erin’s. A huge grin had broken out across her face. Anne swallowed and tucked a hair behind her ear. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
Erin leaned in. “He has never seemed so excited about going out with a woman. I love him dearly, but he doesn’t necessarily have the best track record. He would die if he knew I was telling you this.”
Anne shook her head, trying not to put too much stock in the information. “I won’t tell him.”
* * *
A rumbling engine pulled Anne from the couch where she sat nervous and waiting. She didn’t want to get caught peeking out the window, so she decided to just open the front door and step outside. The shiny black Chevelle that she’d mentioned liking in Mike’s shop pulled into her driveway. She couldn’t help but smile.
The driver’s-side window was down, and when Mike’s eyes found her he returned her grin with a huge one of his own. He shut off the car, got out—and Anne lost her breath. He looked insanely hot in khaki shorts and a dark-gray T-shirt. The way it clung to his chest and biceps made her mouth go dry. He had on sunglasses and once again a hat. The whole ensemble should have looked boyish, but nothing about him could be anything but manly. An incredibly laid-back and sexy man, she thought as he made his way to her.
It took her a moment to realize that his approach was predatory, far from hesitant, and before she knew it his hands were cradling her jaw and his mouth was on hers. It was a firm kiss, skin pressing into skin, and then he pulled back for a second before nipping at her top lip. Her jaw had gone slack at the complete hotness of it. How had he gained this power over her in such a short time? Her body responded to his in an embarrassingly primal way every damn time.
His hands slid down her neck and settled on her shoulders as the heady scent of his soap and aftershave washed over her. This close she could just barely make out his eyes meeting hers through the dark lenses of his sunglasses. “How are you, Perfect?”
She’d heard it so many times now, and yet she couldn’t help a blush at the name. She feigned annoyance but couldn’t deny the warmth that spread through her body every time he said it. Not only because she loved the sound of a pet name for her on his wicked lips, but also because of the implication. He saw her as something special, and something desirable. It was still hard to believe, but his actions—and his words—were very convincing. Her only fear was that he would realize that she was, in fact, so imperfect.
“I’m good, Uncle Mike.” She tried to sound flirty and seductive as her arms settled on his hips, but it came out sounding slightly dorky to her ears. His reaction indicated he was good with the way it came out because he pulled her body flush against his.
“Have I told you how much that nickname turns me on?”
“No, you haven’t.”
“I’m not sure what that says about me, but I can guarantee you that it’s only hot from these lips.” He swiped at her bottom lip with his thumb. “I can also guarantee you that the females who call me Uncle Mike can almost always expect me to give them whatever they want.”
She scoffed. “Whatever they want, huh?”
“Yep.”
“Good to know. I’ll save that little nugget of information for later.”
“Mmmm.” He nuzzled into her neck one more time and laid a quick kiss under her ear before pulling away. “You better.”
“Let me get my purse.” Anne stepped back into the house and leaned against the wall. She was struggling to wrap her mind around what was happening. She’d been married for nearly five years and never, not once, had Scott ever been this happy to see her. Never had he greeted her with such passion and enthusiasm. She had known Mike not quite two weeks. It was their first official date, and his hello had left her wanting to drag him to her bedroom.
To be fair, she’d never minded Scott’s lack of enthusiasm now that she thought about it, but it seemed it was only because she didn’t know any different. Now that she’d experienced what it was like to be the recipient of such affection, she wasn’t sure she could ever settle for less. And that was a shame, because when this little fling fizzled she would be left constantly looking for its equal.
She grabbed her purse, locked the front door, and headed back outside. Mike was facing the street, and she took a good look at the back of him. He was amazing from every angle. This was the first time she’d seen his legs. They were toned, as she would have expected, muscular, and tanned with a dusting of dark hair. She wondered what it felt like to walk around the world looking like an Adonis. Must be nice.
He turned when her shoes hit the steps and reached out to take her hand. The small gesture affected her nearly as much as the hello kisses. He was passionate and thoughtful, and super bossy when it was appropriate, which was so hot. He really needed to reveal some flaws soon or she would be in a lot of trouble.
“So, while this was my favorite car in your shop, I think I recall that it belongs to someone else. That possession guy, right?”
“That’s the one, and we’re drivi
ng it somewhere for him. Hope you don’t mind.” He came around to the passenger side and opened the long, heavy door. Anne slid in, and the backs of her thighs caught on the leather tuck-and-roll upholstery. She braced herself on her hands and lifted her butt to scoot over.
“Sorry, Perfect, these old cars aren’t like the cozy rides we’re used to these days, but they have their own charm, you’ll see.”
“It’s just fine. I like it,” she said. He grinned and shut the door with a heavy thud. It sounded as if it was a hundred pounds of solid steel. Maybe it was. The front seat was a long bench style with an armrest that was folded down between the two of them. The dash was deep and black vinyl, the dials vintage looking; even the knobs and controls were big metal pieces. The one modern feature was an aftermarket stereo with iPod connection and digital display.
Mike sat down in the driver’s seat and turned toward her. “The seat belt is a little different in here.” Pivoting onto his side, he pushed over the armrest, found the seat belt beside Anne’s hip, and laid it across her lap. “Now you stick it into the part by the door.”
She found the latch and waited while he settled into his own seat belt and then started the engine. It was deep and growling, reverberating through her torso. His newer Camaro felt powerful also, but this had another quality; it felt … raw. It even had its own scent, although she couldn’t place it … it smelled like engine and leather and … old.
They headed out of town, but instead of getting on the main interstate, Mike veered onto a southbound two-lane state highway that would lead them into Kansas. She had no idea what his plan was, and she really didn’t care. She could drive through the country all day beside him, some classic rock playing faintly in the background.
Once again, the sight of Mike driving was amazing. His left hand gripping the large vinyl-wrapped steering wheel made his forearms look firm and large. He fit into the interior of the car as if it had been crafted around him. She looked at his face and noticed his eyes sliding to the side behind his glasses, trying to look at her while he drove.
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