The Eyes That Own Me (Timing is Everything Book 1)

by Rebecca Fischer

  I have a feeling this woman is going to keep me on my toes for a while.

  Friday just plain dragged on. End of the week reports make me want to gouge my own eyes out. Let me crunch numbers all day long and let someone else turn them into words. I blame my math teaching mother, which is what I told her when I spoke to her on the phone earlier. My parents still check-in with me despite me being in my early thirties and living on my own, several states away. My sister and I are only a few years apart and quite close that I talk to her almost daily. I have no issues asking her for advice on dealing with women. No matter what age I am, women are still fucking confusing sometimes. Having a sister sort of helps understand the situations, but in the end, I would still rather go straight to the source for information.

  I carpooled with Jeremy to work, and we decided to hit the gym before going to The Barn tonight. I know he doesn’t plan on living in Aiken after he finishes the MBA program, so I enjoy kicking his ass in the gym until then. We meet up with a co-worker, Tyler and his friend, David. They were also roommates back in the day before they graduated. Both epitomize that southern gentlemen look with their always styled hair, boating shirts, Ralph Lauren pants, and boat shoes. Both of them are born and raised Aiken men, who took two newbies in and showed us the best parts of the town. David is going through the Physical Therapy program for his Master’s, but Tyler got his MBA right after he finished his bachelor’s and married his high school sweetheart in the process.

  The weather hasn’t gone below fifty-five the entire week, which is hot for me in a normal winter. I checked the weather based on what Charlie told me, and the rain they anticipated would have definitely ruined any chance I had of semi-stalking her tonight.

  The Barn is a pretty sick place. Tyler’s wife, Shay, is around here somewhere five months pregnant and not taking crap from anyone standing in her way. She offered to be our designated driver tonight since apparently a drunk Tyler is a funny Tyler. The redheaded spitfire joked about him not having a drinking limit because of his antics, but if he passes out, it’s blackmail city for future diaper changes.

  Even though the guys are carrying on a conversation next to me, my thoughts are on the Charlie channel. No commercials whatsoever. It’s playing everything from the demure creature from the first concert to the woman who lets loose in the fantasies I’m creating in my head.

  After fighting with my brain to focus on my surroundings, the channel still hasn’t changed or turned off. Luke Bryan’s ‘Country Girl’ is on a loop in my memory. Charlotte’s ass is barely covered in a pair of cut-off jean shorts, making her legs and ass look almost illegal. She’s not even wearing a real fucking shirt, it’s a black leather vest, pushing her tits up and together, begging for my mouth. Her stomach is on display, showing the smooth and tan flesh I want to run my fingers across.

  Ahh mother fucking hotness, she’s dancing just for me. Her light jade eyes have so much naughty gold in them; they are burning into me like the sun. She pushes me onto my own bed, moving her hips in a circular motion with her hands on my shoulders. She leans into my ear, licking the shell before blowing inside of it, making the hairs all over my body stand on edge. She swirls around me, turning me with her as she bends her fucking legs behind her head! What the fucking hot hell! It’s giving me a perfect view of her pussy, spreading it open for me to take a huge feast on. Those shorts have got to come off. Her ass is just begging for me to grab and keep it all to myself.

  “Matt, I’m waiting over here.”

  Dream Matt is a stupid idiot who can’t make his hands and arms move to touch the siren before him. She lays her legs down, keeping them spread as she starts to undo the vest. Her tits spill out, begging for some attention from me. She takes her hands and kneads as I sit like a dunce on the edge of the bed.

  “I guess I’m just going to have to take care of my aching pussy myself.”

  Who is this woman?

  She has one playing with her nipple, rolling the hard nub and writhing all over my bed. Her other slips down in the shorts rubbing herself. God if my body is too stuck to touch her, I’m going to need relief. Apparently, I’m already shirtless, and I take off the shorts I’m wearing. My dick is pointing directly at her, knowing who caused it to be able to hit any nail. Stroking it slowly is only torturing me more. I pick up speed, and I can feel my knees shaking as the orgasm builds up the base of my spine. My abs and pecs tighten to the point that I might explode.

  “Charlotte. Baby, keep going. Make yourself come.”

  I’m about to have the most intense fucking orgasm of my life, and she writhes seductively as her legs tighten on the bed.

  You know what’s not fucking fair? As we’re both about to cover the other in our releases...

  I fucking wake up to a dog licking my face.

  This is going to be one crazy ride.

  My Wednesday plans with Kylie turned into a Friday morning breakfast, and it’s full of interrogation. She ended up getting called into work for a sick co-worker on Wednesday and Friday was free for both of us. Bree had a website deadline to make for a client who lives in Charleston, so she had to miss breakfast. That girl is just as dedicated to her goals as the rest of us and is building a great reputation as a great graphic designer.

  Apparently, Kylie saw Matt and his friends watching our group Friday night. She hadn’t recognized them before. She was watching us talk as they slowly walked back from the beer tents, keeping an eye on the conversation between Matt and me.

  I know she’ll want all of the information she can get out of me, and I really could use her advice. I figured I might as well unload on my bestie while splurging on some chocolate chip pancakes.

  Giving me a daring look, she smiles mischievously. “Alright, missy. Let’s hear it. I saw things at the concert, and now it’s your job to recount the events. I didn’t ask you on the phone or at home because we’ve both been busy. But now, you can’t run.”

  Shaking my head at her unintimidating yet demanding goofiness and banging my head on the table, I tell her the truth. “I am so out of my element here. He’s that hot guy I told you about last semester. It turns out we have a class together this semester, too. He told me he noticed me in the fall and the other night, before class, he asked me to dinner. When you and I both saw his friends laughing at the concert, he said they were laughing that he ditched them to come talk to me. I’m still scared it’s all one big joke for them. How do I know he wasn’t lying? I’m very rusty in the dating world. It’s been what? Three years since I’ve even been on a real date? Those guys from my senior year and GRE study groups don’t count. They were morons, and it was strictly platonic. Those few hookups with Branden last year don’t count either. That was a bad attempt at a casual friends-with-benefits deal.”

  I take a deep breath after that rant and absentmindedly tug on my earlobe. Ky can sense my nervousness with the whole situation even from the description. Kylie Mitchell may be my little short-stack standing at only five-feet-one, but she is fiercely loyal. She also calls it like she sees it and is a great listener. She never judges me and lets me run my thoughts out loud, even when they are incoherent, which is quite often. I know I’m in for a small lecture, so I keep my butt stuck in my seat.

  Pinning me with her baby blues and grabbing a stern tone, I can already tell she’s jazzed up. “Char, we’ve been best friends since we were four-years-old, and I would never lie to you. You are an amazing person. You are beautiful inside and out. I know we tend to get a little crazy sometimes, being goofy and all of that, but I also know when you usually retreat into yourself. I get you have this wall for carefulness with new people, which is very smart. You make people earn your trust. Make him do the same thing if you are truly interested. Don’t play games with him and don’t you dare let him play games with you.”

  She makes it sound so easy. A guy like him, with his charming and influencing personality, could have the power to humiliate me in a stronger way than before. A person’s self-esteem can
only take so much before they become a recluse. I don’t want to be a turtle hermit before I turn twenty-five.

  Thinking it over, I guess I can take things slow with him and see if he’s actually sincere. I won’t force anything and will focus on school in the meantime.

  I take a deep, brave breath and confess, “He’s quickly wearing me down. He wants to see me at the concert tonight. I’m afraid of embarrassing myself in front of him.”

  She smacks my hand. “You won’t embarrass yourself. If you really aren’t comfortable around him alone yet, then just stick with us while you figure things out, but you have to figure them out. I would wait to tell Aaron, though. He might not leave your side and may try to find him in some cop database or something. I still can’t believe he won those Cole Swindell meet and greet tickets!” Her face turns a little red as it always does when she talks about my brother. Her accent also gets even thicker, and her robin’s egg blue eyes turn a shade lighter, almost white. I’m going to make sure he keeps an eye on her tonight, which he would whether or not I asked.

  I have to admit; I’m ecstatic as well. As scared as I was for Aaron to become a cop, his job has perks sometimes.

  Looking back at me again, she reiterates, “Just take it at your pace and see how things play out. Have an open mind.”

  Dropping the left side of my head to the table, I say, “Well, my brain is ready to shut down for the rest of the day. I’m exhausted, girl. Sometimes I feel like there are too many hours in the day and other times, it doesn’t seem like there’s enough.”

  Hitting her head on the back of the booth, she responds, “Oh my god I agree, but when you start thinking like that, it usually means you’re dead bored at work, in a rare drunken stupor, or overwhelmed with school. You really need to start being selfish sometimes and focus on you for a change. How are plans for the restaurant?”

  Lifting my head off of the table, I explain, “I randomly stop and wonder if it’s the right path for me. I love getting lost in the kitchen, but maybe my dream isn’t meant to become a reality. Maybe I just belong sitting behind a desk and being a sheep with the masses. That way I can continue to blend in with the herd.”

  She offers a small, sympathetic smile. “Let me tell you something, Charlotte Rose. A dream is kind of like a flower. It has its roots, but to evolve, it needs attention. You have to give it light, feed it, and let it grow. Dreams can always blossom into something big and exciting. You have to cultivate and nurture them so that they can reach their full potential.”

  Jaw dropped at her speech, I soak it all in, and it strangely invigorates me to keep going with the goal to open my own place. Her food will be free for the rest of her life if everything works out.

  “When did you get to be so wise and proverbial? Do you whisper that to the babies in their incubators?”

  She giggles, “It’s what Bryce said to Mom and Dad when he wanted to skip college and start training under my mom. We all know that man was smarter than he let on sometimes. He already knew the town council didn’t care if he had a degree or not.”

  Leaning back in the booth, I admit, “Well that was one beautiful statement. Not surprised it came from him. I may just have to put that on a wall in my future restaurant now won’t I?”

  Shaking her head, she replies, “My nightstand shows it to me every day. Now let’s get going. I gotta stop over at my parents before we get ready for tonight.”

  I have a few hours to stew on everything before the concert and devise several courses of action. I do plan on looking extra good, that’s for sure. Mostly, because I’m meeting a celebrity, and I will definitely be taking as many pictures as I can.

  I decided to splurge on some pampering for myself after breakfast with Kylie. She had some errands to run before the concert, so I called my mom to meet me at my favorite salon to get manicures. Plus, I really needed my haircut. The winter usually destroys my hair, and I love wearing it long. It usually takes me a few creams and serums to even slightly tame my curls. I straighten during colder temperatures because the humidity isn’t constantly turning my hair into an afro.

  I’m not overly concerned with my looks on a regular basis, but I’m meeting Cole Swindell! His accent, his butt, and that smile! Oh my gosh. Somebody stop me before I drool. My stomach is in so many knots. I wonder if I can get both pictures and an autograph tonight?

  His lyrics are always amazing and captivating, even when it’s about hanging out with your best friends. I’ve had fantasies about that Georgia man. His song ‘You Should Be Here’ always makes Kylie and I choke up. She always thinks about Bryce when she hears that song. We all miss him and try to do the things we know he’d enjoy.

  Whether or not Matt and his friends will actually be there is also on my mind. If he follows through on wanting to dance with me is not helping the anxiety I feel right now.

  Time is going by slowly today. I haven’t been this nervous in a very long time.

  The pampering is kind of helping. They even massaged my hands at the salon. Sitting next to my mom, she can sense that I’m in a jittery state. She’s still a gorgeous southern woman at the age of fifty-five. Her hair is shoulder-length straight brown with some gray starting to show. I got my greenish eyes and height from her, but my dark brown hair from my dad.

  My mama and I are quite close. She has always been there for me. Even in high school and when I had dating troubles in college. I know she’ll pull information out of me, just like Kylie. Yet I find myself stalling as much as possible. Having run our community center for twenty years, she is one of the most patient and respected people on the planet.

  I can tell she’s trying to calm me down a bit. We’re just shooting the breeze. She mentions she might start covering her gray hair up, but I remind her that true southern women don’t hide their faults, they own them and embrace them. Her and Kylie’s mom, Leigh Anne, have been drilling southern women facts since they reconnected when Kylie and I started pre-school at the same community center.

  We’re just having some idle chitchat until she ‘casually’ brings up why I’m getting extra treatment today.

  “Mama, I’m meeting one of my idols tonight. I just want to look nice for a change.”

  I’m not really sure how to explain Matt at the moment. If he is sincere, I don’t want to jinx it. If he is joking, I don’t want to look like a fool to my parents. Again.

  She gives me that mother-bear-CIA-I-know-you’re-lying look that scared Aaron and me as kids. I haven’t been on the receiving end of that look in a few years, which means I actually deserve it.

  Her accent thickens on her words, “Honey, you can sell that crap at your café ‘cuz I ain’t buyin’ it. Now tell your mama what’s got you in a bunch of knitted nerves.”

  “Okay. I give in.” Raising my half wet navy-painted nails in a surrender. I swear she could make me admit I’m still scared of the dark. I tell her about seeing Matt last semester to the events of the other day with him asking me out. I even tell her what Kylie told me this morning about having an open mind.

  “Oh, honey. That man sounds like he has a decent head on his shoulders. I say man and not boy because he seems like the type to go after what he wants, and my darling daughter, that looks to be you. I agree with Kylie that you need to have an open mind in this. I want both of my children to be happy. Things have a weird way of working themselves out. It may not seem like it now, but eventually they do. Timing is everything, sweet pea.”

  I wish I could believe her easily. She is my mom, after all, and has a way of truly reading people.

  After my mom and I leave the salon, I go home to the condo I share with Kylie to pick out my outfit for the night. I know I’ll be dancing with the girls, so I pick a tank top and plaid long-sleeve in case I get slightly cold. Since the parking garage feeds into The Barn—it’s actually a giant warehouse that was converted to look like a large barn—I can get away with wearing my favorite denim skirt. I’ll wear warmer socks with my boots even though I know my feet
will sweat more.

  Since I had my hair blown out, it feels extra-long, super soft, and thick. I typically wear my hair parted down the middle in soft layers. The more I mess with it, the more I tell myself I will get hot the longer we stay and will want my hair off my face. I need to get Kylie to take the front parts of my hair and braid it to the back. I swear that girl can do any kind of braid.

  Screaming out of the room, “Kylie! Hair emergency! Come braid me please.”

  I’m examining myself in the full-length mirror inside my closet door when Kylie walks into my room. She looks awesome in a lavender strapless sundress that falls to her knees and her dark jean jacket that makes her small frame seem taller. Even though she is five inches shorter than me, we have the same shoe size. Tonight, I traded my tan riding boots for her dark brown ones to match my outfit. She put her symmetrical bobbed length hair into a short, funky French braid and gave herself a minimal smoky eye. With her eyes being a baby blue, she doesn’t need much makeup to make them stand out. Mine are harder to make pop. Don’t get me wrong; I love my eyes. Sometimes, they just seem boring and blend too easily. Kylie gets me to be a little bolder with my makeup using navy eyeliner to match my shirt and nails. It seems to make my eyes a little brighter and festive.

  She bounces on my bed that is full of clothes from my decision process and lays down gushing, “Girl, can I just say again how excited I am to meet Cole Swindell?”

  “You don’t have to remind me because I’ve barely focused all day. Braid me, woman.”

  He is one of the screensavers on my computer. Yes, that does sound stalkerish, but I also have Luke Bryan, Florida-Georgia Line, Chris Young, High Valley, and Randy Houser on a loop. I love my country singin’ men.