by Alice Bello
I looked back in the mirror. I looked more like me—a good version of me, one that cared about personal hygiene and whether her clothes matched.
A refreshing change, truthfully.
I was sure that Bette would not approve of my taking the makeup off, or pulling my hair back again, but she wasn’t the one who felt stupid all dolled up.
I wasn’t sure when Jake got off work. I hadn’t thought to ask him. But if his workday was halfway through around noon, which was when we had lunch together, then he would probably be done at four or five.
I decided to pour myself a fresh cup of coffee, nervously ate a Keebler Fudge Stripe, and then went and sat on my front porch. The summer afternoon was starting to cool off, and the sun had moved behind my house, so it was almost comfortable on my porch.
I saw Bette looking out her side bay window. She waved. I waved back, the first couple of times. The last six I ignored her, even when she knocked on the window.
About four-thirty I heard the familiar sound of my car coming. It wasn’t that my Ford Taurus was loud, it’s just that after a few years you get to know the sound of your car: its engine, how the suspension groans when it hits a pothole.
Jake pulled up and parked my car in front of my house. I got up off the porch swing the same time he climbed out from behind the driver’s seat.
He stopped as he came around the car, and I stopped on the porch steps. We both blinked.
He’d changed his clothes too.
He had on a bright green t-shirt and faded blue jeans. They fit him in the most attractive way. Not too tight, but snug enough that I enjoyed the hell out of giving him a head to toe ogle.
Jake smiled and started toward me on the porch. I took the last two steps and stared up at him as he came close enough to touch.
I didn’t. I was in complete control of myself. Absolute, complete control…
I licked my lips and closed my eyes, lost. What was I going to say to him? I’d made a list, right? Where was it? Oh, yeah, in my jumbled head.
“Coffee smells good,” Jake said. I noticed there was a small scar right over his left eye. I suddenly wanted to go on tiptoe and lick it.
I shuddered at the thought. I wanted to lick his scar. Hell, I wanted to lick more than just that.
Focus! Control!!!
This wasn’t good. This was…
Right then and there, standing there in broad daylight, I felt the sudden fear of the dark that had been like second nature just a few years ago.
I was feeling out of control, like I had back then, with him.
No… this wasn’t then. This guy wasn’t him.
I forced my eyelids open and found the world awash in gorgeous yellow light, and it was spilling over the man before me as if it was lighting him from the inside out.
He was beautiful.
I swallowed. “Come inside and I’ll make a fresh pot.”
“If it’s no trouble,” he said, looking as if he’d noticed my little mini panic attack.
“No trouble at all,” I scoffed, waving my hand.
I turned and went back onto my porch, grabbing my cold coffee and leading the way into my home. It was set up like so many homes in my suburb. You walked into a foyer that held the stairs leading to the second floor. About halfway back through that hallway there was a door that led to the basement, and further back was the kitchen. The living room and small dining area were off to the right.
I lead the way to my kitchen and poured out the coffee Bette had made earlier. A few moments later a fresh pot was being brewed.
I turned around and found Jake standing just inside the doorway of the kitchen. He had his arms crossed over his chest—such a nice chest—as he leaned back against the woodwork. His eyes were focused on me intently. He looked like he enjoyed watching me make coffee.
Good lord, I loved the sexy little wrinkles around his eyes.
“So,” I said, scrambling for something to say. “Did you have any trouble changing the starter?”
He shook his head. “I can change one of those in my sleep. I got to show a couple of the guys there how to do it, so it was kind of a teaching project.”
“They don’t know how to change one already?”
Jake shrugged. “They’re not certified mechanics. Most of them started off as un-loaders or stockmen on the lot. Mostly we change tires, batteries, and do oil changes.”
I liked the way he sounded when he talked about work. His voice seemed more resonant, like rich black coffee.
“So how do you know so much?” The coffee was finished, so I poured two mugs and asked, “Cream… sugar?”
“Black,” he said as he moved toward me, until he was right beside me. I could feel the heat rolling off his body, and smell the lingering scent of oil and grease.
He took a sip of his coffee and sighed. He looked out my kitchen window and smiled. “Your neighbor is spying on you. She’s acting like she’s watering plants, but she keeps looking over here.”
I shook my head and pulled the thin summer kitchen curtains closed. “I’m surprised she didn’t have her field glasses out. She’s incorrigible.”
He turned and looked away, out toward the front of the house.
“I’ve been fixing cars since I could hold a wrench. My dad owned a garage my whole life. I just fell into working with him.”
He took another drink of his coffee. I got the feeling he was thinking deep thoughts. Thoughts he didn’t like having.
“Then a few years ago he got sick… started forgetting things. He died a few months later.”
He stopped and I saw him grit his teeth. “I tried keeping the business going, but competition’s steep and big chain stores make it so you have to sell yourself short on every job.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, feeling my words were simply not sufficient.
“Long story short, I closed the garage, sold it for my mom, and now she lives in a retirement complex down by my sister.”
“Poor woman,” I said, and then immediately regretted it. It was a bitchy thing to say.
“Who? My mom or my sister? Believe me,” he said, a little smile pulling at his lips. “My sister got it from my mom. Norma Leer is reigning title holder and champ.”
My head snapped up and I felt my spine tingle. “Norma Leer? Ms. Leer is your mother?”
Jake scrubbed the back of his neck again, looking embarrassed. “The one and only.”
“Holy crap!” I stood there and stared, slack jawed. This was just mind-boggling. “I had your mother for typing in high school. She freaking hated me.”
“She hated everyone. I told you Paula got it from her. The two of them are just nasty when they’re left to their own devices.”
I couldn’t believe it. The tormentor of my high school years, and my most hated teacher were both his blood kin.
How hadn’t I known about Paula being Ms. Leer’s daughter, or that Paula had a brother?
I laughed and shook my head. “But you’re so nice.”
Jake held his clenched fist to his heart. “Good grief, the kiss of death. She thinks I’m a ‘nice guy’!”
I laughed and pushed him away. “I like nice guys. You get extra bonus points in this house for being a good guy.”
He slouched down and wriggled his eyebrows. “But I hear women can’t resist the bad boy.”
I reached out to push him again… or maybe punch him ineffectually in the chest. But he reached out and gently took my hand in his.
His hand was rough and calloused, but so warm and alive feeling. Just that touch made my heart pound in my chest, and my breath catch.
We stood there, looking into each other’s eyes for a few long, slow beats. I couldn’t think, I couldn’t move. Everything in me wanted to rush into his arms and have him hold me, rubbing myself all over him, claiming him as mine.
Very slowly, I pulled my hand from his and stepped back a few inches, but it was enough for me to clear my head.
“Are you hungry?”
“Sure,” he purred.
I had to force myself to breathe. “Then let me treat you to dinner.”
His expression never changed. He just stared unblinking into my eyes. “You already paid for the repair.”
I bit my lip. I wasn’t going to get to be smooth and sneaky with this guy.
What a relief…
“I was trying to look for a reason to spend some more time with you… and not drag you upstairs into bed.”
I stood there, mortified. I’d really just said that, hadn’t I?
He chuckled, a surprised look on his face.
“Plus I’m starving,” I continued. I had to get as far away from what I’d just said as possible.
Jake licked his lips and moved to the side, out of my way.
“By all means, buy me a meal before you drag me to bed.”
Shit…
I winced and closed my eyes as I passed by him. I heard his boots pad behind me as we headed for my front door.
I was pretty sure he had his eyes glued to my ass.
Chapter 6
BRAD AND ANGELINA WERE trying to kill each other. Brad had a handgun, Angelina a shotgun. They even got some remodeling done on the house while they worked out their domestic problems.
“Mr. & Mrs. Smith” played on the enormous televisions scattered over the walls of the Damon’s where we’d gone to eat. I guess when there wasn’t any actual sporting events on the management defaults to movie hybrids: half action, half romance.
I had a rack of baby back ribs with seasoned fries and coleslaw. I ordered some spicy queso to dip the fries in. I chewed a big bite of sauce soaked pork with glee, and finally washed it down with a swig from my Corona.
Jake had a steak the size of Florida on his plate—well done, thank god. I didn’t think I could have made it through watching him hack into a slab of raw and bloodied meat. He also had a baked potato with butter and sour cream, and a side of broccoli. To my surprise, he was eating the green with the artery clogging stuff too.
I just couldn’t imagine where it all went. I mean, I didn’t see an ounce of fat anywhere on the man.
It wasn’t fair.
I almost stopped eating, but then my stomach growled and I realized that wasting a culinary wet dream like this wouldn’t help my waistline, my thighs, or my butt.
Jake smiled and held up his Heineken for me to clink my Corona with.
I gulped down my swig of Mexican beer and pointed at the gargantuan television screen.
“This is my favorite part!”
Brad said, “Come to daddy.” Angelina smashed him in the side of the head with a huge metal urn wrapped up in a drape, and then she kicked him across the room where he smashed into some glass cabinets.
“Who’s your daddy now?” I said along with Angelina. I turned to Jake. “She so could have taken him.”
This was where I was sure he would object. Guys just wouldn’t admit that a woman, no matter how badass, could beat a man in a fight. It was just how they were hardwired. My male chauvinist pig of a brother had only said, “I’d let her take me anytime.”
I sat there and waited as Jake smiled at the screen and chewed his steak, and then he looked back at me and nodded. “Her character was obviously way better trained, so yeah, he wouldn’t have stood a chance.”
My mouth fell open and I know I looked mentally challenged… but, damn.
“What?” Jake said, looking oddly self-conscious.
I shook my head. “Nothing… you’re just rapidly becoming the most interesting man I’ve ever met.”
He smiled wickedly, his dimples really showing.
“Wait till you hear me burp the Pledge of Allegiance and my ABCs. You’ll see I’m just as immature and macho as the next Texan.”
“Sorry to have doubted you. Go full on caveman. I promise not to think of you probably watching the Oprah Network on your days off.”
He shot me a fake glower.
“And crying when she sends some little girls to college.”
“I can always go out there and remove that starter. That’ll show you how manly I am.”
“Okay, okay…,” I conceded. “You’re the man.”
He speared a big, green piece of broccoli with his fork and then daintily dipped in into my side of queso before plopping it into his mouth. “And don’t you forget it!” he said in mid-chew.
“So besides being an old friend of my brother, and the son and brother of my two high school nemeses, what other pertinent info don’t I know?” I gave him my hardest glare. “You don’t live on my block, do you? Because that would just be too weird.”
“Is that how you say that?” he wise-assed, taking another big bite of steak. “And no, I live on the other side of town. Harlandale.”
“That’s good.”
“But,” he said, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “I do have one more little bombshell.”
I swallowed the delicious hunk of barbecued ribs I’d been chewing. “If you tell me you’re married to my cousin Sue Anne, then this date is going to take a serious nosedive.”
“No,” he said gravely. “I was never married to a relative of yours.”
“Oh, well… that’s good.” Then I thought about that sentence again. “But you’ve been married before?”
He nodded glumly.
“And it was to someone I know?” I could feel a coil of dread scratching its claw down my spine.
“I was briefly hitched to Janie Gregory, for about a year after high school.”
My eyes got wide… again. “Janie Gregory, my best friend in high school?” This just kept getting better. Janie stopped talking to me when I moved away to go to art school. It had seemed like a knife in the back at the time.
I took a deep breath, and then an even deeper pull on my Corona. “So,” I said with what I hoped was humor, “how long have you been stalking me?”
Jake cocked an eyebrow at me. “You don’t even remember me from high school.”
“Yeah, but I asked how long you’ve been stalking me. There’s a distinction.”
Jake nodded sagely and then tucked in and ate the last few bites of his steak. When he looked back up at me he had a faux innocent expression on his face. “What?”
“You’re evading the question, Stalkerboy.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “If things stay true to form, you’ll be stalking me by the weekend. At least that’s how things went with Janie.”
“Very funny.” I scowled at him.
“And with Beth Stover, and Sheila Call, and Daphne Vaginna.”
“Okay, fine…I’ll probably be stalking you just like the others.” I leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, “I think I saw Daphne hiding in the potted fern in the corner.”
Jake chuckled. “Remember how Mrs. Hanlon always said her name over the PA system?”
I took in a deep breath and pinched my nose to imitate the office secretary of the high school.
“Would Daphne Vagina please report to the office?” I burst into raucous giggles.
“I’m surprised she didn’t end up killing the old woman.”
I pushed the giggles down so I could breathe again. “And you dated her, huh?”
“For about a week,” he said. “But I just kept hearing Mrs. Hanlon saying her name, over and over again. I think the girl was in every extracurricular activity in the school.”
“National Honor Society too,” I added. “I think I would have switched schools.” Or killed the bitch.
I finished my last fry and took another gulp of my Corona. “So have you heard from Janie lately?”
Jake shook his head. “Nah, once Janie moves on, she’s gone. She married a friend of mine about a year later, they split up three months after that, and she moved to Arizona. That’s the last I heard of her.”
I surveyed our plates and our beer bottles. Plates empty, bottles with only a few more swigs left in them. Dinner was officially over…
&nbs
p; Unless we had dessert…
My mind flashed to some rather steamy images of things that would hardly be classified as dessert… but there was chocolate syrup and whip cream involved.
I licked my lips as I imagined licking the chocolate and the cream from Jake’s flesh.
News flash! This is just dinner. It’s not really even a first date… though it kind of felt like one. Actually, in the scheme of things, it had ended up being one hell of a good day—even having my car breakdown on me had been a good thing.
I looked at him as he chugged the last swallow of his beer.
Avery good thing.
I looked over at the dessert menu placard by the salt and pepper shakers: apple pie a la mode, mud pie, death by chocolate cake, and cappuccino ice-cream.
Ice-cream sounded good—really good. But the two flavors they had left me cold.
“Crickster’s is just a couple blocks away. Can I temp you with a waffle cone?”
His smile was slow and very sensual, his eyes unwavering as he took me in.
“Sounds good.”
***
Tammy Faye Bullock has owned Crickster’s since the early sixties. She had big hair and wore too much make up, and she preferred skintight outfits better suited for a woman a third her age. But she served the best damn ice-cream in town.
She also kept young by working every day of the week, keeping her shrewd hazel eyes on her staff, the stock, and the register receipts.
“Well, as I live and breathe, Hope Jones!” Tammy Faye practically sang when I walked up to the outdoor order window. “What got you out of your house?”
Just then Jake sidled up behind me.
Tammy Faye crooked a penciled in eyebrow and her candy apple red lips pursed into a naughty smile.
“Oh, that’s what.”
I rolled my eyes at Tammy Faye and told her what I wanted. Chocolate chip cookie dough in a waffle cone. What I always got when I came here…but then, I didn’t come here often anymore, did I?
I actually couldn’t remember the last time I’d come.
That was depressing.
“I’ll take a—”
“A root beer float,” Tammy Faye interrupted Jake. “I know what you like, Jake-y.”