by Mia Carson
On my way out of the school, I called my best friend, Madison. We’d been friends since college, although we lived totally different lives. As a lawyer, she’d finished school three years after me, but we’d remained friends. Luckily, she had decided to practice in Ft. Worth in a downtown high-rise, so we were close enough to hang out regularly.
“Madison, I need your help,” I told her as soon as she answered.
“What did you do?” she asked. “I thought you were just having fun with Nikki last night.”
“You think I’m in jail?” I asked, shocked.
“I assumed you killed Nikki’s sister, or at the very least, assaulted her,” Madison said with a laugh.
“Whatever,” I laughed with her. I briefly told her about our night, Jenny’s behavior, the trip to the karaoke bar, and the oh-so-handsome man I’d met who turned out to be a student’s father. “And he came to the field today! I have on no makeup, I’m in yoga pants and an oversized t-shirt, and my hair is in a messy bun. I swear, I look homeless.”
“You never look homeless. Hungover, I’m sure,” she replied.
“I didn’t drink much. Nikki is still passed out at my house,” I told her.
“So, what do you need help with?”
“He won’t tell me where we’re going tonight. I know he had to make reservations, so I’m pretty sure we’re going downtown. He’s wearing jeans, a button up, and boots, and told me to dress to match, but I don’t think jeans are right for me.”
“Agreed. You’re going to downtown Ft. Worth?” she asked.
“Yes, I’m pretty sure. He didn’t actually say! That’s why I need your help. I have teacher clothes, not go-out-on-the-town clothes,” I whined.
“Okay, okay, I already know exactly what you should wear. We bought it in June for that benefit at the Stockyards, remember?”
I thought about the event we’d gone to, a benefit to raise money for children with cystic fibrosis. The non-profit was called Lighter than Air, and each year, they held a silent auction and had live music at a bar that gave all the profits from alcohol that day to the cause. We’d dressed up and danced all night, drinking for the benefit of the children.
“The black dress?” I asked.
“Yes. It’s perfect. It’s a touch of class with a little bit of slut mixed in. You’ll look perfect no matter where you go,” Madison said.
“Boots or heels?” I asked.
“Definitely your cowgirl boots. I bet he’s taking you to Del Frisco’s or Bob’s Steakhouse,” Madison said with certainty.
“What type of restaurants are those?” I asked.
I could practically hear her eyes rolling. “Mel, please, we have to get you out more. Both are incredibly nice restaurants. Pricey, too. Who did you say this guy is?”
“Will Sheron,” I told her.
“Holy shit, Mel! Don’t you know who that is?”
“Uh, Cara’s dad?” I asked facetiously. If Madison knew his name, he had to be someone famous.
“You wear me out, I swear.” Madison cleared her throat. “Did you do any research online?”
“He doesn’t have a Facebook,” I defended.
“Google the man, Mel! And while you’re at it, Google the restaurants,” Madison ordered. “You need to be prepared for what you’re in for.”
“I’m driving! Is he a rehabilitated serial killer? Or worse, is he a ballerina?” I joked. Madison was given to theatrics. “Just tell me. I won’t be home for ten more minutes.”
“Melanie Ulrich, you disappoint me.”
“Yes, yes, blah, blah, stop being a bitch and just tell me.”
Madison giggled; she loved drawing out her fun. “Will Sheron owns the largest ranch in this area. He supplies the beef for most of Ft. Worth. The last article I read about him claimed he was worth at least a billion.”
My mouth hung open, and I nearly missed the turn I took every day to get home. “Crap,” I hissed as I corrected and turned. “He’s a billionaire!”
“How do you not know that? Didn’t you say his daughter is in your class?”
“She’s on my team, actually, but she is so far from what you would imagine a billionaire’s daughter to be. She wears clothes from Old Navy, for Christ’s sake!”
“So they aren’t pretentious. That makes him even better,” Madison murmured. “I’m looking at an article. Damn, Mel, he’s hot.”
“Yeah, I know,” I mumbled. “Listen, I’m home and have to take Nikki to her car. If I’m having a hissy fit closer to the date, I’ll call you back.”
“Need me to come over?” she asked, sympathetic. I didn’t date much.
“Nah, I’ll be fine. But I’m not looking up those restaurants. I don’t need that stress in my life. Maybe we’ll just go to Razzoo’s.”
“Doubtful, but whatever. Call me first thing in the morning. I want every detail. Especially if you fuck him,” Madison snickered.
“I don’t fuck on the first date, Madison,” I growled.
“You should. You’d be a lot more fun,” she answered and hung up before I could argue. I grumbled under my breath and dialed Nikki’s number so she’d be up when I got home.
***
At 6:45, I was one hundred percent ready and so antsy that I worried I’d bounce my foot right off. I paced some, settled on my couch, and paced again. My nerves were on fire, and the realization that I didn’t date enough explained them. I hadn’t been on a real date since Richard had asked me out, and that had ended poorly.
Will was nothing like Richard, although I hadn’t asked around about him at all. I’d been teaching at Brayman for several years. I knew many people who had lived in Brayman for most of their lives and who would have known him. I could have, but that didn’t seem fair. I didn’t ask former teachers about my new students, either. I liked to develop my own opinions as I got to know them.
Tonight would be a new experience for me—a date with a man who A) wasn’t married, B) seemed normal, and C) wasn’t just looking to get laid. Though Lord knows, I could use a good lay. Sex hadn’t been a priority in a long time, and I hadn’t had sex in a couple of years. My virginity might have come back for all I knew, but no, I would not sleep with him on the first date, no matter how horny I was.
Satisfied with my rule, I walked to my room to check my face one more time. Although I rarely wore more than mascara, I had gone all out, even putting on eyeliner. My green eyes popped with the shadow I’d chosen. A YouTube makeup tutorial video had been a lot of help, although I would never admit to watching it, and like a guilty teenager watching porn, I’d deleted my history. After finishing, I’d sent a selfie to Madison.
Mel: What do you think?
Madison: OOLALA! Sexy mama! Who did your makeup?
Mel: I did it myself. Good?
Madison: Excellent! If that man doesn’t lose his mind, he’s probably gay.
Mel: HAHA! Thanks! I worked hard on it. And the dress is perfect.
Madison: Don’t forget to text me in the morning.
Mel: Yes ma’am!
At precisely seven, my doorbell rang. My stomach jerked in response to the nerves. I inhaled deeply, rolled my shoulders, and forced them to relax before I opened the door. He was on my doorstep with a bouquet of beautiful flowers and a big smile. He looked so handsome in his light blue, button-up shirt, starched jeans in the style of George Strait, and brown boots, that my breath caught in my throat.
“Wow. You look amazing,” he breathed. He held out the flowers.
“So do you,” I replied, a smile on my face as I sniffed the flowers. “These are gorgeous. Would you like to come in?”
“Of course. Our reservation is at eight, so we don’t need to leave for thirty minutes.”
I smiled and gestured for him to follow me. “Please have a seat. Would you like a drink since we have time?”
“Love one.” Rather than sitting on the couch, he followed me and leaned on the bar to watch me make drinks. “Your house is nice.”
“Thanks. I like
it, but I’m just renting right now,” I told him as I reached for a vase for the flowers. “I’m going to put these in water before I make drinks.”
“Rent?” he asked curiously.
“Yeah. I mean, I don’t know where life may lead me.” I shrugged as I filled up the vase. “Gotta keep my options open.”
Will laughed a little. “That’s a good plan, I guess. I like to feel settled somewhere.”
“Ah, yes, but you’ve lived in the same place your whole life, right?” I asked as I reached for two glasses. “What would you like to drink?” I listed what I had, and he settled on a Crown and Coke, as did I.
“I have lived in Brayman my whole life, yes. What about you? Where did you grow up?”
I handed him his drink and sipped mine. “Lubbock. My family moved here when I was in high school. I’ve been in this area since then.”
“So you didn’t move around too much. That’s good. I was afraid you were an army brat or something. Never had roots,” he teased as he sipped. “This is perfect. Hits the spot.”
“Yes, it does. Want to sit on the couch?”
“Sure.”
We moved to the couch and sat close together and continued our conversation. We talked a little about my family and his, though neither of us were ready to divulge all the crazies. We laughed and joked about Cara and everything she tried to be involved in. After a few moments of silence, Will chuckled and turned to me.
“You know, the best way to break the sexual tension on a first date is to kiss at the beginning rather than the end,” he informed me.
I wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic, so I responded with sarcasm. “I didn’t realize there was sexual tension.”
“Of course there is! I’m dying to kiss you, and I’d bet money you want to kiss me,” he replied, smirking.
“I’ll admit, I’ve thought about it a little. But kissing at the beginning of the date? That’s weird,” I told him, looking at him sideways, though I was completely amenable to the idea.
“Not weird. I want the rest of our date to be relaxed, so we’ll enjoy each other’s company. You in?”
I pretended to consider, resting my chin on my fist and my elbow on my knee. I threw my hands up in the air, smiling. “Yeah, okay.”
He leaned in close to me and touched his lips to mine. What I thought would be a short kiss with minimal tongue quickly became impassioned. Our lips fit like they’d been made for each other, and our tongues created a rhythm like two people who had kissed for decades. Lust overtook my body, and my hands moved to his chest. His hands were on either side of my face, holding me to him, unwilling to break the kiss.
When I finally pulled away, his face reflected the surprise I felt. We stared at each other, flustered. Before either of us could speak, he glanced at his watch and stood. He held a hand out to me.
“It’s time to go, Mel,” he said with a smile that brightened his face. After I rose to my feet, he said, “Thank you for the kiss.”
“You’re welcome,” I murmured unsteadily as he took my hand and kissed it. “Let me grab my keys and I’ll be ready.”
My legs were wobbly and my hands shaky. That kiss had been more powerful than any I had shared with a man before. Granted, that wasn’t a huge number, but I had never felt the lust, the need, from just a kiss.
I grabbed my keys and bag, smiled at him, and walked past him out the door. I brushed my body against his, a seductive smile on my face. The sexual tension hadn’t been broken. I wanted him more now than I had before. And he wanted me, too.
Will
I followed Mel to the car, watching her ass even though it was hard to see under the dress. She looked as beautiful as the sunrise over the ranch, and my eyes wouldn’t stay off her. And that kiss! Two more seconds of her lips, and I would have carried her to her bed and fucked her all night long. I frowned as a memory struck my brain. I hadn’t felt like this since Carol, my wife, gone for nearly twelve years now.
My steps faltered when the realization hit, and Mel glanced back at me. “Are you okay?”
I shook myself mentally and smiled, determined not to ruin the evening with maudlin thoughts. “I’m great. Did I mention how beautiful you are?”
“I believe you used the word amazing. Thank you,” she said with a smile that could convince me to do just about anything.
“You’re welcome,” I replied as I leaned close to open her door. I inhaled her scent, a mixture I didn’t recognize but would never forget. As I walked around to the driver’s side of the door, I thought about how utterly hopeless I was. I’d never forget her scent? Damn.
“So, are you going to tell me where we’re going now?” she asked when I pulled away from the curb.
“Downtown,” I offered, amusement in my voice.
“Yes, I assumed. But where?”
“Have you ever been to del Frisco’s?” I asked. She shook her head. “You’re going to love it. It’s a little pretentious, but the food and wine are so damn good you’ll think you’re in heaven.”
“My friend told me to look up del Frisco’s, but I never did. What kind of food do they serve?”
“The best steak you’ll ever eat.” My eyes shifted to hers. “You’re not a vegetarian or vegan, are you?”
Mel laughed. “No, I’m a carnivore for sure. Does your ranch supply the beef?”
I frowned. My darkest fear since dating a woman after coming into money last year was finding yet another gold-digger and not realizing it until I’d invested time and care into the relationship. But hers seemed like a simple, honest question. She taught my daughter. Of course she would have some knowledge of my business.
“We do. Best damn beef in the state. Country, too, for that matter,” I told her, proud of the work I did. “I’ll tell you a little ranch business, if you’re interested.”
“Sure. I’m from Texas, but I’ve always lived in town. Don’t have a lot of cattle knowledge,” she replied with a laugh.
“My cattle are raised in the fields without growth hormones. Naturally, they grow to adult age, grazing on green grass, hay, and in the winter, feed made right on the ranch so the quality is pure. That’s why our beef is the best.”
“You must be very proud,” she answered, smiling. “I’ve read horror stories about the beef industry, though I skip over those articles now.”
“I am very proud,” I told her.
“Maybe one day, I’ll visit your ranch. You can show me around, if you aren’t too busy wrangling a steer or cowboying,” she said with a laugh.
“You laugh, but I actually do wrangle steer and do a lot of cowboying, as you call it,” I told her, smiling at her. “Can you ride?”
“Of course,” she answered sarcastically. “I am from Texas. My grandparents had horses.”
“My apologies, cowgirl.” I laughed. “If I’m lucky enough to score a second date, we’ll go horseback riding on my land. You’ll love it.”
“Can I bring my camera? I love taking pictures. It’s kind of a hobby.”
“Bring anything you want, as long as you’re wearing a tight pair of jeans,” I teased, and she laughed.
A few minutes later we pulled up to the valet at del Frisco’s. I handed the guy my keys and a ten and hurried over to take her hand as she stepped from the car. The exterior of the restaurant was simple though elegant, with dark red brick and stone carved to look like longhorns watching our every move. A hostess, dressed impeccably in black and white, greeted us and opened the door to usher us inside.
The interior of the restaurant was much more impressive than the outside. All the wood—mahogany—shone, and the bar, which was close to the door, was beautifully carved with Western-themed designs. Large, cushioned bar stools sat close to the bar for a patron’s comfortable seating and, should one have to wait for a table, overstuffed chairs sat around small coffee tables where a drink could be enjoyed until called to the table. All the art was Western-themed, with landscapes, both painted and photographed, of the Texas countrysi
de.
The hostess offered to escort us to the bar since we were a few minutes early, but I thanked her and told her I knew the way. We passed a wall with several photos, and I pointed to two that were side by side.
“These were taken at my place,” I told her, though I didn’t include that the photographer had been Carol. I found it interesting that Mel also enjoyed photography.
“These are beautiful!” she exclaimed. “The light is excellent.” She studied the photos a moment longer while I studied her, mesmerized.
“Would you like a drink while we wait?” I asked. “I can bring it to you.”