Moore To Love

by Faith Andrews

  “I’m really happy for me, too.” And I am. So happy that the kale smoothie I make myself for breakfast tastes more like an ice cream sundae with a cherry on top.

  I try to make myself look like I’m not a ball of nerves on the inside by acting professional on the outside. With my right foot propped on the bench for support, I fold my body in half and reach down to touch the tips of my toes. I repeat the same warm-up exercise with the opposite leg, until a pair of chilly hands at my waist startles me.

  “Shit!” I shout, craning my neck to see who just got a handful of muffin top.

  “Hey, you.” Lane smiles, coming around to plant a kiss on my cheek.

  The nerves from earlier send shockwaves through my body, and then slowly come to a simmer when I inhale a deep breath of Lane’s manly scent.

  “Hi.” I can just see my face right now—a total goof. Warm and gooey and all crimson stained cheeks.

  “You look adorable, as always,” Lane scans me from head to toe and I can’t help but relish in the lustful expression on his face. But, adorable? A puppy is adorable; a newborn baby is adorable. Whatevs, I’ll take what I can get, considering last night Tatum had me convinced that the guy over there walking his dog is Lane’s idea of adorable.

  “Thanks. You look breathtaking, as always.” He does. There’s no better way to describe him. In his proximity the altitude seems higher, my lungs feel smaller. He has that effect over me all the damn time.

  Lane ignores my compliment and takes my hand. “Ready? I want to show you something today.”

  I gladly accept his invitation, no words necessary, and we start on the path in the opposite direction of my normal route.

  Lane is like the mayor of Central Park—everyone waves or gestures a greeting as he passes them. I recognize some familiar faces from my daily routine, but since this is a path I don’t normally frequent, it’s like a whole new world. The October sun is strong in spite of the subtle chill in the air. I’m glad I layered because with the sun beating down on us head-on I’ll need to shed my Pink hoodie soon.

  “So, about last night.” Lane breaks the comfortable silence only filled with our footfalls. I find myself enjoying the steady pace between us, the fact he’s simply beside me is enough. And then he brings this up as if I need a reminder of how I acted like a horny fool last night. Suddenly, my pits are sweating again and the hoodie has to go.

  I unzip it, feeling self-conscious of the way my T-shirt clings to all the wrong places, and tie it around my waist to hide the worst of it. Without making eye contact, my focus still on the paved path, I reply, “Maybe we don’t need to talk about it. Let’s leave it alone and just start fresh. I’m embarrassed enough for throwing myself at you.”

  “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Leni. In fact, if anyone should be embarrassed, it’s me. I led you on and I feel like an ass.”

  Did he lead me on? I thought we were on the same page? Did he ask me out here to let me down easily? People don’t usually flirt their way out of a hook-up. Or do they? I’m lost. It’s a big, big sea, with so many fish, and I’m a tiny guppy getting washed up in the tide. I take a sip from my water bottle, unsure how to respond.

  Lane slows up a bit, I follow suit but stagger a few steps to the right. As much as I adore being around this man, the mixed signals are making me feel schitzo. Sensing my confusion from the distance I’ve put between us, Lane takes my hand in his and brings it to his lips. The tiny token of affection sets my heart galloping again.

  “I know you have this certain idea of what I’m about. It’s easy to judge a book by it’s cover and I guess at first glance I seem—”

  “Hot!” I interrupt, giving him the boost of confidence he deserves. “You’re smoking hot, Lane. How do you not see that? Are you blind?”

  Lane chuckles, raking his fingers through his hair. His expression turns serious, though, when he straightens to answer me. “No, I’m not blind, but—let’s just say I wasn’t always this way.”

  The dude is a man of few words—I get this and I actually like it, but, Jesus H, he speaks in riddles and from what I’ve seen, he doesn’t like to elaborate. If this is going anywhere, the cat will have to let go of this man’s tongue. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re as cryptic as the Da Vinci Code?”

  “No, I can’t say I’ve heard that one before.” He cocks a brow and flashes one of his dimples.

  “I don’t want to pry or come off as some nosy Nellie, but I don’t get it. I’ve struggled my whole life, I’m still struggling, and then I meet you—this gorgeous, fit, fun guy who seems to have everything going for him—and I can’t help thinking that you either don’t have a mirror or you’re naïve because, Lane, I see how the girls look at you. Don’t you see how I look at you?” I nudge his side. He jumps to the side. He’s ticklish—fantastically adorable. “You got it going on, Mr. Sheffield. I promise you that much.”

  Lane takes it in, but I can tell it’s not sinking in. I never imagined I’d have to convince him of his hotness. What a roller coaster of a role reversal. Is it a full moon or something?

  “You must think I’m weird.” From the corner of my eye, I notice he’s biting his lip. This whole thing is so—flummoxing. It sincerely makes zero sense, but if anyone can understand what it’s like to let your insecurities get the best of them, it’s me.

  “I think nothing of the sort. I think so much more. I want so much more.” There I said it. I do not speak in riddles. I speak the truth. Here it is, come and get it.

  “I do, too. I like you. You make me smile and laugh and not worry about being the guy everyone thinks I am. I can just be me around you and I love that.”

  There we go. We got a little something out of him. This is progress, slow going, but progress nonetheless.

  Forgoing any more awkwardness of getting to know each other’s flaws, we follow the bend in the road and continue on our way, discussing my upcoming trip. Lane’s stride comes to a halt when we come up to one of the most picture perfect sights I’ve ever seen. It’s funny how a piece of serenity like this can lie in the center of one of the busiest cities in the world. Bow Bridge at this time of year is simply breathtaking. The leaves have started to turn which adds to the bridge’s vintage charm, and the water beneath its arch reflects the vibrant colors of the trees and the bright blue sky. “Oh my goodness, Lane. How beautiful!”

  Sweaty and all, Lane pulls me closer to him and hooks an arm around my shoulders. My initial reaction is to back away so he doesn’t get grossed out by my clamminess, but the autumn-painted view is too spectacular to experience without the pleasure of his arms enveloping me.

  “Want to cross it?” His question is so metaphoric I nearly burst out in laughter.

  “With you? I would gladly cross Bow Bridge, or any bridge for that matter. You know this is totally romantic, don’t you?”

  “Exactly what I was going for. I need to make up for being an idiot last night.”

  “It’s forgotten, I swear it. Now that I know we’re on the same page—wait, are we on the same page?” Riddles, by nature, are meant to be confusing. I haven’t gotten a straight answer from Lane about what he expects from me. We need to make things clear so there’s no more second guessing or jumping to conclusions. I don’t need Tatum coming up with another cockamamie idea of why Lane might not be interested in me.

  Strong, sinewy arms whirl my body around so that we’re face to face. Lane dips down to place a chaste kiss on my waiting lips. Before I can deepen it by anchoring my fingers into his hair or tasting him with my tongue, he retreats and sets off to guide us across the bridge. “If your page includes many more candlelit dinners, and going at it in the back of cabs, then yes, babe, we are on the same page.”

  “Yeah?” I ask one more time for good measure.

  “Yeah. I’m not about to let something this good slip away.”

  Squee! I nuzzle into his warmth, feeling closer to him than I ever have. “Good thing I don’t plan on going anywhere.”
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  “Except to Miami.”

  Damn, I nearly forgot. “You’re so gonna miss me.”

  “And you’re not?”

  “I never said I wouldn’t, and if I recall correctly, this morning you told me you would leave me with something to remember you by.” I place one palm out, facing up. “It’s time to pay up. Show me what you got.”

  “The bridge isn’t enough?” He waves his hand, exhibiting the gorgeous scenery beneath our feet.

  “Oh, no, no, no. I need something to keep me warm at night.”

  “It’s hot in Miami,” he jokes.

  “Make it hotter,” I whisper into his ear.

  With that, at the peaked arc of the bridge, Lane takes my face in his hands and kisses me. Our lips meet softly and then his tongue breaches, caressing mine with chaotic longing. This kiss is full of urgency, desperate desire, and the answers to all of my looming questions. I don’t care who or what sees us, I throw everything I have into this kiss. My body bends as his arches, his hand tugs at my ponytail while his tongue circles mine. I moan against his mouth, his name a faint whisper on my occupied tongue. After a dramatic, movie-like dip and some peppering of sweet kisses against my cheeks, neck, and shoulders, a few passersby erupt into applause, sending me into the safety of Lane’s arms.

  Mmm, he smells good. Almost as good as he tastes. I melt into his touch and whimper against his neck. “We put on quite a show, didn’t we?”

  He tucks a lock of loose hair behind my ears, still holding me close. “Any regrets?”

  “Not one.”

  “Good, because once you’re mine, you’ll need to get used to me kissing you everywhere and anywhere I please.”

  Would you look at that? The man can be sexy and domineering. I like it. I love it. I want some more of it. I tangle my fingers with his and pull him into a slow stroll.

  Once we’ve crossed to the other side of the bridge, he bends down to tie his unlaced shoe and I start to jog in place. “Come on. Let’s finish our run so I can bask in the memory of our crowd pleasing kiss while I pack. Race ya home?”

  Lane dusts off his pants as he stands, stealing another quick peck. “You’re on.”

  AS THE PLANE LANDS, ROLLING onto the runway of Miami International Airport, Will Smith’s Welcome to Miami is the first thing that comes to mind. I’m in love with all things Latin culture, South Beach, and Gloria Estefan. I’ve never been, but I won’t lie . . . this mama is ready to party in the city where the heat is on.

  I try to shake Raven awake to soak up the tropical paradise of palm trees peacefully swaying in the wind. She’s not budging. How she slept through the entire flight is beyond me. Then again she did say she was up all night with her son because he was sad she was leaving. I have no idea how she juggles so much and manages to keep it all together. I’m single, only in charge of me, and my life is almost always a hot mess. Swoony thoughts of Lane remind me that the messiness could very well be coming to an end. At least for now.

  “Hey, chica! We’re here! Wake up, Sleeping Beauty.”

  Raven grumbles something that barely sounds English and finally opens her eyes when I poke her in the ribs. “Here already?”

  “You were out five minutes after take off and snored the whole way down. Welcome to sunny Miami, babes.”

  “Shit. Sorry, I guess I’m not much of a travel buddy.”

  “Don’t apologize. I’m glad you got some rest. I know how hard you’ve been working to iron out all the details. You’re only human.”

  “If by human, you mean sleep deprived, then sure.”

  Raven and I grab our carry-ons from the overhead and amble off the plane and into the terminal. The rest of the team is on a later flight, so it’s just me and her for a while.

  “Hungry?” she asks, nodding in the direction of the chain restaurant to our left. “I can’t believe they don’t even give out in-flight peanuts anymore. The world’s gone fucking mad, I tell ya.”

  I chuckle at her hangriness and pull a Kind bar from my purse. I came well prepared with low-cal munchies to avoid any unnecessary temptation. “Here. Feed your face. Wouldn’t you rather get to the hotel so we can settle and scope things out?” And by scope things out I mean, get my tan on before the real work begins.

  Raven snatches the granola bar from me and rips the wrapper open with her teeth. “You and your rabbit food lately.” She noshes down on the rabbit food with a doubtful frown. “Eh, not as bad as I thought, although I’d die for a cheeseburger and chili fries.”

  “And I wouldn’t?” I mumble. Raven can afford to eat that way. I certainly cannot.

  She swallows another mouthful and nudges me with her Louis Vuitton travel bag. “I’m sorry. You’ve been so good and you look great and here I am being an unsupportive bitch. Pay no attention to my sleepy, grumpy, hungry ass.”

  I shoo away her ridiculousness. “Don’t be crazy. I don’t expect you not to eat what you want because of me. If you want a burger and fries, let’s go. I can grab a salad.”

  “In other words, more rabbit food.” She gives me a wink and we continue toward the baggage carousel. “This is good for now. Plus, like you said, we should get to the hotel and make some headway before the rest of the crew gets here. I have a meeting with the photographer that I’d like you to sit in on.”

  Say what? Have my ears not popped yet? “Really?” I’ve always wanted more responsibility, duties that stretch beyond the studio. Just the idea of getting a behind the scenes experience with the photographer has me nearly skipping through the terminal.

  “Really. I told you I wanted you as my right hand woman for this job. I wasn’t kidding and I promise it won’t be all work with no play. I managed to schedule some free time to shoot the shit by the pool and enjoy a few happy hours. You can’t come to Miami and not live a little. Maybe you’ll even meet a Cuban cutie, huh?”

  I shake my head, laughing at Raven’s incessant need to set me up. It’s never worked in the past, and even though I’m feeling a little bit more confident these days, I have Lane on the brain.

  “What’s that look?”

  Oops. She caught me, didn’t she?

  “Oh . . . nothing.” I feign innocence but I can tell she sees right through the flush of my cheeks and the smile on my lips.

  Raven darts in front of me when she notices her luggage circling around the carousel but that doesn’t stop her from prying further. “Spill it, sister. What’s going on with you? A new man?”

  “New would imply that there was an old, and we both know I haven’t been on a date in forever.”

  “What about that Hudson dude?”

  “That was a hook-up; this was a date.” I can’t help myself. I want to talk about it. Gloat, brag, speak of nothing but the way Lane made sure I would be thinking of him this whole trip.

  “So, there is a man! I need a cocktail for this! Can it wait until we’re back at the hotel and my hand is occupied by a filthy martini?”

  “Yes. It can wait. There’s not much to tell anyway.” The lie detector determined that was a fib. In the grand scheme of things, the Lane stuff isn’t a big deal. But it’s been a long time since I felt this way, and I can barely contain the giddy emotions from spilling out of every pore, crevice, and orifice. I hope the shuttle to the hotel is a quick one.

  By the time Raven’s sucked down her third dirty martini, I’ve only nursed one vodka-club. Once I gave her all the deets about Lane, she went on and on about how she had a great feeling about him and that he had to be the one. Fate doesn’t just make you bump into a tree and stumble into the arms of a hot nurse for nothing, were her exact words.

  I can’t lie, her belief in the whole destiny thing and how it threw me and Lane together makes me more hopeful than it should. I’d toast to that, but the alcohol has taken its effect on my boss and it’s time to cut her off before she winds up hung over and cranky before our big meeting tomorrow.

  “’Nother . . . shplease?” She slopes to the side in the poolside lounge, wa
ving her empty glass at the approaching waitress.

  I intervene, shaking my head and mouthing no way behind Raven’s back. I knew she was three sheets to the wind when she started to share some TMI about the sexual fantasies she acts out with her husband. I love Raven, but I don’t need those visuals.

  The waitress nods in understanding and sets off to help the other non-inebriated hotel guests, leaving me to deal with this shit show.

  “Hey, I think we should go back to the room and freshen up.”

  “Soon as she ’rings my drank.”

  I giggle at her drunkenness, allowing her a pass. With three kids and the demands of running a hectic business, who am I to deny her a little buzz? Standing and straightening out my sarong so I’m not revealing more than anyone cares to see, I collect our bags. “I’ll have her send it up to the room. Come on. The other girls will be here soon.”

  “Fiiinneee,” she drawls, sliding off the chair and flat onto her ass. Contagious giggles erupt from her, causing a few people to turn their heads.

  “Shit, Rave!” I run to her side and scoop her up by her underarms. “You need a nap and a shower.”

  “I need a shmoke and a pancake. Or a bong and a blintz.” This time her laughter pierces through the quiet oasis and causes me to bowl over myself.

  “Okay, Austin Powers.”

  “Don’t you mean, Goldmember?”

  “Sure, whatever, you psycho.”

  She reaches out to grab hold of me for leverage and winds up grabbing a generous helping of my ass. “Raven!” I yelp when her grip closes in on my crack.

  “Well, well, well. You’ve got a toit ass, Len. Toit like a tiger.”

  I don’t bother scolding her because I’m certain she won’t remember any of this later on.

  Getting Raven into the elevator and up to the room is a death defying act of hilarity. Stumbles, stutters, and slurs, oh my! And not to mention the inappropriate leers at the young tattooed hottie who hopped in on the fifth floor only to quickly reroute his destination from the rooftop lounge to floor ten after three uncomfortable seconds of Raven’s attempt at cougar life.