Beyond Lace

by Mia London

  He believed her, but again, he couldn’t help to think he was being worked over a bit.

  “Thank you.”

  “I’m helping my mom over there,” she gave a vague point behind her. “You should stop by.”

  “Well, we are actually wrapping it up here. I need to get my grandmother home.”

  “Oh,” she pouted. “That’s a shame.” Then she bit her lip. “I have an idea.” She pulled out a notebook and pen from her purse and scribbled something. She ripped off the sheet and held it out for him.

  “Here’s my number.” Still holding the paper, she stepped a little closer. “Why don’t you call me, we can go grab a drink. Catch up on old times.”

  “Okay.” Pretty unlikely.

  She leaned forward slowly and kissed his cheek, and whispered, “I’d love to see you again.” She pulled back, smiled, and turned around to leave. He’d have to be blind to miss the way her hips sashayed for him.

  He knew he could have her naked in bed tonight if he wanted. He tucked the paper into his front pants pocket. He’d think about that another time.

  “Who was that?” his grandma asked stepping up beside him, her purse in hand.

  “A girl I knew from college.”

  “Hm,” she scoffed.

  Apparently, grandma didn’t like Trish so much. No matter. Anything he did while in F.C. would be short-lived. He had a business that awaited him.

  “Ready?” He offered his arm and escorted his grandma out of the maze.

  Blake followed Josh into Broken Spoke, a trendy bar where the music blared through the front door. He had reached out to Josh when he arrived in town. They kept in touch through social media over the years. They were fraternity brothers and pretty tight once upon a time.

  “I need a drink,” Josh said.

  “Yeah, sounds good.”

  He followed Josh into the bar and heard a distinct laugh coming from the corner. Charlie’s face glowed with amusement, sitting and laughing with her friends at a corner booth.

  Her beauty was undeniable. She captivated him, and in a way that pissed him off because he couldn’t get close. He was still unsure if she could be trusted.

  “Here, man.” Josh shoved a beer Blake’s way and took a swig of his own. He called out over the music, “I talked to Chuck earlier this week. He said he’d probably stop by.”

  Blake fought an eye-roll. Chuck was another fraternity brother from CSU. Blake remembered Chuck was a hard partier. So much for chillin’ with beers and bros tonight.

  The music changed, and a screech of female voices echoed from Charlie’s party. Blake turned his attention to watch half of the ladies stand and shimmy to an open area to create a makeshift dancefloor. Must be a really good song. Long hair and supple arms were flying about.

  Charlie loved to dance, he knew that. Something seemed carefree with her tonight. More than he remembered. She laughed with her friends and sang at the top of her lungs. She was having a good time.

  She had her hair in a ponytail that night, and he couldn’t stop watching her when some random strays floated over her cheeks. She enchanted him to the point where he didn’t see any other women in the place. What he did see, the snugness of her blue jeans and the way her hips moved to the beat of the music. He did see the subtle bounce in her breasts and sensuousness of her moves, even if that wasn’t what she intended.

  “Bro, where’d you go?” Josh called from beside him, snapping him from his daze.

  Blake shook his head. “Just watchin’ the show.”

  Josh nodded. “This place is hot tonight.”

  Blake knew he was referring to the inadvertent female entertainment, rather than the establishment.

  Both men watched the women for the rest of the song—something about having a holiday—until they returned to their tamer activities. It felt surreal in a way for him to be standing in a bar, watching the woman he was once madly in love with, without her knowing he was even present. It was surreal that she was once his everything. He had loved her to his core, trusted her, wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. And right then, she was merely another patron at the bar, out to have a good time with friends.

  A patron he couldn’t take his eyes off of.

  Suddenly from the front of the building, Blake heard, “Sig Eps rule!” as Chuck came barreling through the parting crowd to make his way to his brothers.

  Blake refrained from rolling his eyes again.

  Chuck loved his time in college, and might continue to live the college life even at eighty.

  “Chuck-ster. How’s it hangin’?”

  “Josh. Blake. Livin’ large.” The two-forty, six-two linebacker grabbed Josh for a bear hug, released him, and wrapped Blake in his monstrous arms before slapping his back. He smiled from ear to ear. “Let’s get some shots,” he proclaimed.

  Oh, fuck! Blake wasn’t up for shots tonight.

  “Three jagers, please,” he called out to the bartender.

  Jägermeister would not be Blake’s drink of choice.

  Now it was Josh’s turn to receive a slap on the back.

  “How you guys doin’? Man, Blake you look like a stud. Success looks good on you.”

  “Thanks, Chuck. I appreciate it. How are you doing? Haven’t seen you in a few years. What have you been up to?”

  “Got the best job, B-boy. I’m a photographer for Playboy.”

  “You are full of shit, that’s what you are.”

  A boisterous belly laugh roared out of Chuck’s mouth, and soon Blake and Josh followed. Blake knew in his gut, this was going to be no ordinary night.

  The shots arrived, and Chuck handed one to each of his friends. With his glass raised, Chuck said, “Here’s to staying positive, and testing negative,” and he slammed the liquid into his mouth as his head tipped back. Blake and Josh followed suit.

  “Dang,” Josh coughed out with a grimace on his face.

  Before Blake could say a word, a movement from his right caught his eye. Charlie and a friend had approached them.

  “Evening gentlemen,” her friend said.

  “Well, if it isn’t some lovely Kappas.”

  How the hell did Chuck remember which sorority they were from? And actually, Charlie was a member of the Kappas but decided to leave before her junior year.

  “Chuck, Josh, Blake,” she said by way of greeting. “You boys seem to be raisin’ a lot of hell over here. Care to join us ladies for a dance or two?”

  “You’re on, Jessica,” and Chuck reached for her hand and led her through the crowd to the area where the ladies danced.

  “You ready, Josh?” Charlie said looking up at him, grinning.

  He shook his head and smiled. “Uh-uh, sweetheart. I’ll catch you on the rebound. Take my man Blake instead.”

  She looked his way, and he could have sworn he saw a twinkle in her eyes when she smiled briefly.

  “Alright, Blake. You up for the challenge?” She reached out her hand, palm up.

  Blake noticed her raised eyebrow. She was challenging him—daring him to say no. He was no pussy.

  “Bring it on, sister.” Then in an unexpected move, he took her hand, raised it over her head, and with his left hand pushed against her hip spinning her around.

  She gasped. He caught her, countering her dare.

  “Ready?” Without waiting for a reply, his fingers wrapped around her hand, and he led her to the dancefloor. The hoopla from a next song brought the volume up a few notches.

  Blake spun her twice more, then let her do her thing. Charlie worked her supple body to the beat, and Blake could do little more than smile. She was in her element.

  The crowd was energized, the music blared. He glanced back, and even Josh nodded to the beat. Blake couldn’t believe where he was at that moment. His life for years consisted of running a business and working for its success—his success. He rarely went out and let loose. He was competitive, maybe to a fault, and didn’t have time to just blow-off.

  And now, he
moved with his ex, watching her dance before him, having one of the best nights in a long time. Of course, the low alcohol buzz helped.

  As the music transitioned to something a little softer, Charlie moved closer to Blake and wrapped her arms around his neck. A light sheen covered her cheeks and forehead. He rested his hands on her hips.

  “Well, you seem to have loosened up some, Blake. Perhaps being back in Fort Collins is good for you. Get you out of the stuffy Chicago air. Because, honestly, this relaxed, less-serious Blake is my favorite. And believe it or not . . .”

  He tuned her out. He was mesmerized by her lips. Her full, pink, subtle lips. Why was she rambling so much?

  He snaked an arm around her waist. She felt good in his arms. He leaned forward and covered her lips with his. She froze a split-second before she relaxed into the kiss. She opened her mouth when he stroked his tongue over her lower lip. Her tongue met his in a slow, sensuous dance. She shifted closer to him, pressing her body against his.

  The kiss spread to his core. His body awakened. It had been years since they’d shared a kiss. And yet, on some level, it was like they had never kissed before. It was a first kiss.

  But his brain caught up with his body and reminded him that was not where he needed to be.

  He pulled back and stared into her glazed eyes. “You talk too much.”

  Then he smiled and turned to head back to Josh and the rest of his hopefully cold beer.

  Charlie sucked in air; she was breathless.

  Holy cow! Blake just kissed her—out of the blue. Her legs were jelly. That kiss felt amazing. It felt like . . . something she’d want to do again.

  “Oh me, oh my.” Jessica leaned close. “What was that?”

  She licked her lips and looked Jessica’s way. “That was the kind of kiss you hope for all your life.”

  “I’ll say. Think you should go after him?” Jessica asked with her eyes wide and brows raised.

  “I’ll think of something,” she smiled, and after a beat, Jessica smiled too.

  Charlie turned her attention back to her dancing friends, but what she really needed was a drink. Scratch that. What she really needed was an orgasm. After a several-month sabbatical, probably more like a year, she needed more than B.O.B.

  Her face was flushed, and she could feel the beginning wetness with her every move on the dancefloor. God, she wanted Blake. She glanced back his direction one last time. She’d come up with a plan—fast—because she needed to put this ache to rest.

  Chapter Seven

  “Blake,” his grandma called from the back porch as he pruned the hedge along the back of her house.

  “Yes,” he paused to look at her. “Everything okay?”

  “Oh, yes. Fine. I was hoping you might take me into town later. I want to stop by Gladys’s to bring her the casserole, and then the fabric store.”

  “Sure. Give me another hour to finish out here, then I’ll get cleaned up.”

  “Thanks, dear,” she turned and walked back inside.

  Blake smiled. He felt so utterly domesticated. After breakfast, he helped his grandma grate cheese and chop onions for a casserole she was making for a friend. He actually quite enjoyed himself. Being in Fort Collins was certainly a change from Chicago.

  In Chicago, his meals were usually at a restaurant or take-out. Hard work didn’t involve sweat; it involved a computer. Fluorescent lighting replaced sunlight.

  There was something rewarding about getting dirty and sweaty occasionally.

  He moved around to the side of the house with the clippers. These really need to be sharpened, he thought. He should bring them along to town and look into having them sharpened.

  A few hours later, Blake pulled up to the antiques store where Gladys worked part-time. He carried the casserole and followed his grandma into the store.

  “Hi, Gladys.”

  “Hey, Rosie. Thanks for stopping by. Well, hello, Blake. Rosie, your grandson looks so handsome,” she said beaming.

  “Hi, Mrs. Bell.”

  “Set it here please, Blake. I’ll put it in the back refrigerator in a minute.” She motioned to the counter.

  “How’s Suzette feeling?”

  “Okay,” she said tipping her head from right to left. “Ready to pop. Doctor says he can induce her day after tomorrow,” Gladys said with a smile.

  Grandma turned to look up at Blake. “Gladys is going to be a great-grandma,” she grinned.

  Oh, brother. Blake sensed the insinuation hidden in that statement. He tuned out the rest of the ladies’ conversation and let his mind and eyesight wander the store. A red metal tricycle grabbed his attention. The vision of riding one very similar to that as a kid popped into his head. He smiled remembering his dad jogging alongside as they raced. His dad always let him win.

  He made a mental note to call his dad later that night.

  After a few minutes, Grandma looped her arm through his.

  “Okay, Gladys. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  “Bye, Rosie. Bye, Blake.”

  Blake smiled and waved to Mrs. Bell. Sweet lady. His grandma had some really good friends.

  Outside, Grandma pointed in the direction of the fabric store.

  “It’s only about two blocks up, Blake. I need to find some ribbon for the invitations for Geoff and Patty’s anniversary party.”

  As they walked, he asked, “You’re making the invitations? Why don’t you order them, Grandma?”

  She glanced up at him. “Blake, sometimes handmade things look better and mean more than store-bought,” she said with all sincerity.

  Blake never considered that.

  They strolled through the front door, and in an instant, he saw Charlie talking with a woman, perhaps the manager, at the front counter. Charlie glanced up at him and gave him a quick, closed-mouth smile before returning her attention to the manager.

  “Go say hello,” his grandma commanded. “I’ll be in the back picking out my ribbon,” she said and strolled away.

  He watched Charlie for a moment. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail like the previous night, when he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  He meandered to the counter. “Hello, ladies.”

  “Hello, Blake.”

  He noticed the sketchpad before them and the pencil Charlie held in her hand. “What are you working on?”

  “Charlie’s helping me with some holiday promotions.”

  From Blake’s perspective, it looked like she was going to generate coupons for Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas.

  “Will these be printed or electronic?” he asked.

  Charlie glanced up at him. “Jamie would like to do both. She has a growing list of emails in addition to traditional addresses. Jamie, this is Blake, an old friend from college. Blake, this is Jamie, the store’s owner.”

  A lighting strike of energy shot straight up his spine. For some reason hearing her refer to him as a friend struck a nerve.

  “Looks good,” he managed to get out and offered his hand to Jamie.

  “Nice to meet you, Blake. We were just discussing having the coupon be dollars-off or a percentage-off. What do you think?”

  He had a definite opinion, but this was Charlie’s project. He smiled and shook his head. “I don’t know. What do you think, Charlie?”

  “It’s alright. It’s just an opinion,” she urged him.

  He blinked. “Well, I think I like the percentage option because shoppers are apt to buy more if they can still save. The dollar-off may inadvertently limit their purchases.”

  “True, unless we create a sliding scale where the more you buy, the more you save.”

  Now that’s using your head. “I like that idea. And of course, you could change up the promotion for each holiday.”

  Jamie’s eyes went wide, and she smiled. “That sounds like fun.”

  The store’s phone rang, and Jamie excused herself to answer it. “I’ll be right back.”

  “She liked your idea, Blake,” Cha
rlie said with a smile.

  “She thought it was fun.” He leaned close and spoke softly in her ear. Her clean, sweet citrusy smell filled his senses. “I can think of many more things that are fun besides coupons for a fabric store,” he wiggled his brows and smiled at her before he went off to find his grandmother.

  He couldn’t say exactly what had gotten into him. Maybe it was seeing her the night before, but playing with Charlie felt natural . . . exciting. The way her eyes twinkled at him, she liked it too. These next few weeks might not be as bad as he had originally expected.

  Blake was flirting with her. Wasn’t he full of surprises? The way he’d leaned in close, his warm breath dancing across her skin, sent a rush of sensation to the apex of her thighs. God, how does he do that?

  Jamie returned and reviewed a few more details so Charlie could come up with a draft on her PC. She was about to leave, running out of reasons to stall, when Blake and his grandmother strode toward the check-out counter.

  “Hello, Mrs. Strickland.”

  “Hello, Charlotte dear. How are you? How is your mother?”

  “Good. We’re both good. How are you doing?”

  “Oh, wonderful. I’m sorry I missed you the other night. I appreciate you making a special trip to the house.”

  “Anytime. Are you better?”

  “Yes, thank you, dear. Perhaps you can come over for dinner sometime soon,” she suggested.

  She considered the offer. Since Blake seemed to be on his best behavior now, she could probably accept the invitation. “That would be terrific. Thanks.”

  “Does Blake have your number?”

  Her number hadn’t changed since college, but the likelihood that he’d deleted it from his phone was incredibly high. “Um, I don’t think so.” She grabbed a pen and reached for his hand. Opening his warm hand, she wrote her cell number on his palm. “There,” she smiled. “Call anytime with an invitation.”

  Blake’s lips quirked at her words and his eyes danced with amusement.

  “Perfect. We’ll talk to you later, dear.” Rosie made a few steps to the clerk and set her handbag on the counter.