“Yes, you could’ve, but I’m capable.” He put the rest of the brownie in his mouth and pulled her into his arms. “Hope you don’t mind I ate one for breakfast.”
“Of course not, but I could have found something more breakfasty if you like.”
He laughed. “Anne, I’m a man who lives alone. If it’s edible, and it’s morning, then it’s breakfast. And your brownies are delicious. Now sit down and I’ll make you a cup.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and left her to open the fridge and retrieve the creamer.
He seemed so at home in her space, not asking permission, just doing what he wanted. She would have thought it annoying, but it wasn’t. She actually enjoyed knowing that he felt so comfortable. It was kind of sexy watching him fish around Claire’s pink princess cups and pull out two mugs. No one had made her coffee in a long time.
“So even though it’s Saturday, I’m still behind with the Monser car. I have a lot of work to do today.”
Oh boy, here it came. He was priming her for the efficient thank-you and good-bye. “That’s no problem. This was fun.”
He turned to face her, creamer dripping from the bottle onto the counter. His stare was unsure. “Yeah, it was fun. Which is why…” He turned and handed her a steaming mug before he continued. “Which is why I want to come back tonight. See you again. We can go somewhere for dinner, or whatever. But it won’t be till late.”
Her eyes widened. Thank goodness she hadn’t yet taken a sip of the hot liquid.
“Did you have plans … If you do that’s—”
“No. I didn’t have plans,” she interjected, not wanting to miss the opportunity. “Of course you can come back … whenever you’re done.”
He sat down across from her, a slow grin creeping up his face. “You sure?”
“Yes. I’m sure.”
“Good.” He looked pleased. He took a drink of his coffee so she did the same. He’d nailed the creamer-to-coffee ratio so she told him so.
“I just made it the same as mine and hoped you would like it.”
“I do … like it,” she replied.
“I’m glad.” He stared at her, and she wondered what he was thinking. It felt like the conversation was about more than how they liked their coffee.
When they finished their drinks he got up to leave. She followed him to the front door, nervous and unsure of how the morning-after parting would go. Should they kiss, just say good-bye?
He took the worry away when he pulled her against his body and kissed her. Before leaving he whispered into her ear, “I was going to tell you to think of me today … but I changed my mind. The only person getting you off today is me.” He leaned in and kissed her once more, hard on the mouth, before he walked out.
She shut the door and stood there completely dumbstruck. What did she do with this? Ride it out and have fun while it lasted? She was afraid to hope that what they had was something more, and when had she decided she wanted something more? Not long ago the best choice seemed to be fun only. But now … now she wasn’t sure what she wanted.
She quickly decided the best policy was not to create or have any expectations, just take it one day at a time. Even though his words about her mother had made her feel like he really cared. The feeling of their blissful morning settled low in her chest, and the fact that she could still faintly smell him on her skin allowed her to decide she would give herself to the possibility that maybe, just maybe, Mike Everett was in it for more than a night. Maybe he was in it for the long haul.
* * *
He’d only been gone four hours, but for Anne it felt like an eternity. She hadn’t pined for a man since she’d met Scott that day at the community college, and this was even more intense. She tried not to overanalyze that thought as she sat in front of her laptop. The cursor teased her, like a finger tapping in irritation as she considered her words for this blog post. She’d ignored the comments from last Saturday’s date and gone on about her business despite the private emails, tweets, and Facebook messages from her followers. They were all happy for her, she knew that, but publicly acknowledging that she was seeing someone made it something, and that was a big step. When—or if—it ended, she’d have to publicly acknowledge that also, and that just flat-out sucked.
Part of her brain liked to think Maybe it won’t end, but that wasn’t very realistic. Most relationships ended for whatever reason, and between her and Mike, there were plenty of factors working against them. Age, children, life plans, her irrational tendency to push good things away out of fear. She was really trying to avoid that last one.
Something had changed today. She felt the need to share this. All through her journey she’d been open on her blog, never oversharing, but telling enough to be relatable to her readers. It was what made the blog real, the relationships meaningful, and she knew it was why people came back. She, Callie, and Lindsey put themselves out there, connected with people, and this was the first time something major was taking place in her life that she hadn’t acknowledged. It was beginning to feel disingenuous, and she didn’t want that. It was time, although she struggled with how much information to give to be honest without being annoying or elusive. Her readers were too smart for that, and she didn’t want to insult the people who were repeatedly there to support her when she needed it.
Stuffing the last bite of her brownie in her mouth, she closed her eyes and let the chocolate melt over her tongue. She really could make a mean brownie, thanks to her mother. It was all about the imported 60 percent cacao chocolate she used, and the two sticks of butter, but that was another thing she wouldn’t think about. As she wiped her hands, brilliance struck. She could talk about what was going on, give her readers what they wanted, and still be true to her blog and make it “normal.” Maybe.
Fingers flew over the keyboard now that she had her angle, and it felt good to get it out, share the joy that had been filling her days the past couple weeks. She would need to brace herself for the comments on this post. She considered closing comments on it, but her readers wouldn’t rest, they’d reach out in other ways, better to just deal with it now and move on. This blog was part of her life now, supported her livelihood. It was a safe place to share, just a little, about the man who was driving her crazy in the best possible way.
Nineteen
A day full of work and Mike had made great strides on the Mustang. After today he might actually end up ahead of schedule, which he considered a miracle. He was proud of how it was turning out. He usually didn’t have any reservations about his restoration work, but this one had concerned him a little. However, now even Manuel’s amazing pink paint job was growing on him.
It was a beautiful machine, and he had to keep telling himself that surely Dan Monser would have instilled a deep respect for a classic car in his sixteen-year-old daughter. It wasn’t really convincing him. It still blew his mind that his hard work would be enjoyed by a group of girls while they giggled all the way to the mall, but that didn’t stop him from doing his best. He would make sure that this would be the most badass pink fastback on the road.
After a while he switched projects and focused on Aiden’s truck, fulfilling his end of their unwritten bargain. Cheap drinks for tune-ups. It was no big deal—it didn’t take Mike long to change the oil and rotate his tires every few months.
Mike hadn’t showered yet since he knew he’d get dirty working, and every once in a while he would catch a hint of the floral scent that permeated Anne’s house, and her body. It wasn’t as if he needed the reminder. All he’d done while he worked was think about being with her, how amazing touching her had been, and the way she’d opened up to him. There was still a lot he didn’t know about Anne Edmond, but he knew what had happened between them in the past twenty-four hours was special. Every time his mind went to the vision of her sitting on top of him he worked faster, wanting nothing more than to get back so they could do it all over again.
After finishing up with the truck, he cut through the office to the s
mall bathroom and washed the grease from his fingers the best he could. It was nearly seven and he still needed to order a couple of parts online, shower, and then drop off Aiden’s key’s next door at the bar before he could see Anne again. He sat down at his desk and picked up his cell phone, hoping she might have texted or called. She hadn’t.
He hesitated for a minute and then sent her a message.
MIKE: Be ready for me. Naked.
ANNE: Who would let you in?
MIKE: Your neighbors would love it if you did.
ANNE: NO way. And they’re all old!
MIKE: No one is too old to enjoy the sight of a hot naked woman.
ANNE: I wouldn’t do that for anyone!
MIKE: But I’m not just anyone. Do it for me.
MIKE: Please.
He loved goading her, and he could imagine her sexy blush when she read his text. Anne Edmond was a crazy hot woman, even if she didn’t seem to realize it, and convincing her to release some of these inhibitions gave him immense satisfaction.
She still hadn’t responded five minutes later and he started to get nervous. He’d made a habit of revealing himself and his feelings through texts to her because it was easier, but not being able to gauge her reaction was unnerving.
He started to type again—let her know that he’d been teasing—but as he was typing another message dinged in.
ANNE: Just show up, and then you get what you get and you don’t throw a fit.
He grinned, recognizing the phrase from his sister’s house; Erin learned it from Bailey’s preschool and now used it all the time with his niece.
MIKE: I like it when you talk dirty, babe. You can play the naughty teacher.
ANNE: Just hurry and get here!
MIKE: Okay, Perfect.
He set his phone down and started up his computer to put in his parts order. Out of recent habit he opened the My Perfect Little Life blog first and was shocked to see a new post from Anne from earlier that day. It was titled “Breaking the Silence Triple-Chocolate Brownies,” and he began to read with a smile on his face.
I know you’ve all been waiting for me to respond to the comments from last weekend about my “date.” I’ve debated how to handle it online, if I should ignore it, lie (I know, yuck, not an option), or give details (sorry, also not an option).
Well, I decided on giving a little info, as I love you all and know you want the best for me. Your support of me and Bug over the past few years has been amazing and warmed my heart. I think of you as friends—some of you longtime readers are even like family to me—and I thank you for your kind words. I know you are curious so I thought it right to set the record straight. So, YES, I was on a date last Saturday! And the ladies were correct: He is quite amazing to look at. In fact, I don’t know how this happened, but I’m glad it did. He is sweet and funny and best of all he makes Bug laugh.
I won’t say too much because right now it’s not serious, we’re having fun getting to know each other, and I want to protect our privacy. I hope you all understand. But I will tell you this: I made him brownies (yes, I can bake, too!) and they were a hit if I do say so myself. So make them for the sexy man in your life today!
She’d taken a picture of the brownies, which, as she said, were amazing, on a plate. She’d made it look pretty, covered in powder sugar and sitting next to a glass of milk. She’d obviously taken it before he got to her house the day before. The recipe followed, and then the comments started. He wasn’t sure if he even wanted to read them. He’d read enough of her blog to know they’d be happy and encouraging, but he couldn’t get her words out of his head.
Most of it made him insanely happy, because she sounded happy. But he still felt a little off about the whole thing. He was pretty sure it was the part about it not being serious. He’d never made a conscious decision to call this a serious relationship, but he knew what he felt for Anne was more than having fun, which in his mind meant just sex. This was more, much more.
Was she just keeping that to herself because it was too personal for the Internet, or did she really not feel what was happening between them the way he did? He ran a hand down his face and cursed under his breath. Finally she’d done what he wanted, acknowledged them on the blog, and he still wasn’t satisfied. Maybe he was being an asshole. He couldn’t be irritated, it was her site and she deserved to handle it the way she saw fit. And he wasn’t even sure what he wished she would have said. He just felt … unsettled.
He stood up and headed for the shower. Fifteen minutes later and he was ready to go in jeans and a navy T-shirt. He grabbed his and Aiden’s keys, his wallet, and headed for Smokey’s.
It was a Saturday so the back lot was full of cars. Mike could hear the bass of the music pounding through the old brick walls the minute he stepped outside of Aiden’s truck and headed up the stairs to the front door. His thoughts traveled back to the not-so-distant Saturday when he’d pulled Anne’s curves against him on the dance floor. Now he knew what they looked and felt like naked against him. He couldn’t wait to get back to her.
Mike nodded at the doorman and entered the throng of bodies. He really hated the crowd on Saturdays, which was why he usually avoided it. He knew it wasn’t Aiden’s favorite night, either, but although the club crowds weren’t the best tippers, they made up for it by sheer quantity so his friend dealt with the crazy weekends.
Mike found his way to the bar and jerked to the side as a hand closed around his biceps. Katie was beside him, dressed in tiny shorts and a flowery top, her hair big and makeup heavy. Shit. He really would have liked to get in and out. Anne was waiting for him.
“Hey.” Katie managed to make it a purr although she had to speak loudly to be heard over the noise. “Come to see me?”
“Well, actually…”
Katie turned, cutting him off to chat with a group of women sitting at the end of the bar. Mike quickly looked around for Aiden, who was nowhere in sight. The other bartender who worked weekends was close, and Mike tried desperately to get his attention.
Katie pressed into his side again, one arm flinging around his neck. He looked down at her warily. Needing to get out of this situation as soon as possible, he leaned a little closer to speak into her ear and practically shouted over the music, “I’m actually not staying, Katie. Sorry.” He pealed her arm away from his body and started to make his escape.
She gave him a pouty face and re-insinuated herself on his person by leaning her head on his shoulder. Good God, he needed to get out of here, Katie was trashed. Looking back at the bar he finally saw Aiden, coming out of the back with a keg over his shoulder. He set it down, his eyes darting between Mike and Katie.
“Hey man, you okay?” Aiden asked.
“Not really, I’m kind of in a rush. Truck’s good for a few more months. I’ll see you later this week.” He handed him the keys.
“Thanks.”
Mike again gently pushed Katie away from him, and when Aiden pushed a glass of water in front of her, Mike took the opportunity to haul ass for the door. His victorious escape was sweet, but also short-lived. He intended to walk back to his shop—which wasn’t far—when he heard footsteps. Not just any footsteps, of course, but heels precariously making their way down the flight of wooden stairs. Fuck.
“Don’t leave yet, Mike. Just give me a second. Please? I’ve missed you.” Katie’s heels now wobbled on the gravel lot, the sharp tang of alcohol clinging to her body as she edged closer. “I haven’t seen you lately.”
“Katie, you’re going to fall out here, and I really do need to get going.” He pulled his keys from his pocket.
“Where to? It’s Saturday night?”
He froze, completely unsure of what to say. He didn’t feel he owed Katie any explanation about what he did. Seriously, they’d only gone out the one time.
“Oh, do you have a date? With someone else?” She looked so shocked and distressed all at the same time. Shit.
“Katie, I’m not sure what you want me to say. I’
m sorry things didn’t work out between us. You’re a really ni—”
“Don’t.” She put a hand against his lips to shush him and he clamped his mouth shut. “Don’t tell me I’m nice, beautiful, or sweet, or any other stupid bullshit.”
He gently removed her hand from his face. “Okay. Then what do you want me to say?”
Her body sagged and her face took on a pitiful look, her head tilting to the side. “I really liked you, Mike, for a long time. When my roommate and I moved into the duplex behind your shop last fall I watched you working on those cars all the time when you had the garage doors open, wishing that you would see me and ask me out.”
He really didn’t like where this was going. Her voice was escalating and her words slurring. It also made him feel like shit. He never wanted to hurt anyone, but clearly he had, and he regretted it, immensely.
“And then you did ask me out.” She inched closer to him, her eyes pleading—and yes, there was definitely vodka coming out of her pores. “I know our date wasn’t perfect, but you must have liked me enough to ask me … and then … and then she…”
“Katie, stop. I think you’ve had a little too much to drink, and Anne has nothing to do with me and you.” At this point he didn’t know if he was disgusted with her behavior or felt sorry for her. A little of both if he was being truthful. He also just wanted to leave.
“That’s crap, Mike, and you know it. You flirted with me at the bar for weeks and then asked me out. Then you met her. She has everything to do with it.”
He glanced around. Her theatrics were drawing attention from the people milling around in the parking lot smoking. With every word she moved closer until he had his back up against someone’s pickup. “Katie, I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you. Why don’t I walk you home?”
And then she lunged for him, her lips hitting his, the stickiness of her lip gloss moving across his mouth for a second before he pushed her away.
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