Until December: Until Her/ Until Him

by Aurora Rose Reynolds

  “I’m ready when you are.” She ducks her head to avoid looking at me.

  I walk across the room and stop just long enough to pick up the flowers, and her gaze finally meets mine when I hold them out to her. I watch her lick her lips as she tips her head down toward the bouquet while lifting them to her nose.

  “Peonies are my favorite.”

  “I know,” I admit, and her startled gaze comes up, locking with mine. “I asked Sage, who asked Kim, who eventually got back to me after calling your sisters.”

  Her lips part in surprise, making it really fucking hard not to kiss her. “I... I don’t know what to say except thank you,” she says shyly.

  “You’re welcome.” I reach out, touching my fingers to hers holding the flowers, and her pupils dilate. “You wanna put them in something?”

  “I’ll do it when I get home. I know you made reservations, and we’re already running late because of me.” She turns, taking the bouquet through the open archway into her kitchen, and I follow, watching her place a stopper in the drain then turn on the water. Once the sink has a couple of inches of water in the bottom, she rests the flowers against the edge, shuts off the pipe, and turns toward me. “I really am ready now.” She smiles, and I chuckle, placing my hand against her lower back to lead her outside, hoping like fuck this woman isn’t too good to be true.

  Seven

  December

  BREATHE, JUST BREATHE, I repeat over and over in my head as Gareth opens the passenger door to his SUV. I swallow, looking up at the seat that is chest high on me. wondering nervously how I’m going to get up there without looking like an idiot. My dress is too tight for me to pull myself up gracefully, and I still have yet to master the art of doing anything more than walking or standing in heels.

  “Let me help you.” His warm hand comes to rest on my lower back, and heat seers through the thin material of my dress, making me shiver.

  I look up at him and shake my head. “I can manage.” Or I hope I can. He grins then suddenly his hand on my back slides around to my hip. He turns me to face him, and when the opposite hand curls around my waist, I start to ask what he’s doing. Before I get my mouth to form actual words, my feet are no longer on the ground and my bottom is on the leather seat.

  “You...” I start to accuse him of picking me up, but his fingers curl around my calf, making it tingle, and I lose my train of thought.

  “Tuck your feet in and buckle up, Ember.”

  With my heart pounding, I quickly tuck in my feet, but when the door slams closed, I don’t buckle up. I watch him through the windshield as he prowls around the hood, pondering how I feel about what he just did. I realize, as he opens his door, I liked it. Not sure how I feel about that, I grasp my belt as he settles behind the wheel and lock it in place. “I could have gotten into your vehicle on my own.”

  “Yeah.” He puts the key in the ignition and starts the engine, looking over at me. “But you contemplating how you’d do that gave me an excuse to touch you, and since you walked out of your room in that dress, my hands have been itchy.”

  “What does that mean?” I ask, even though I’m pretty sure I already know the answer.

  He turns fully to face me, and the heat I see in his gaze causes tingles of desire to light me up from the roots of my hair down to the tips of my toes. “Means I’m gonna find any reason I can to touch you tonight.”

  Breathe! my mind screams as my lips part to form a soft O.

  His eyes, now on my mouth, lift to meet mine, and he whispers, “Yeah.” With no response from me, he places his hand on the headrest of my seat and carefully backs out of his parking spot then puts the engine in drive.

  I clutch my purse in my lap with both hands as he drives out of my apartment complex, willing my heart to slow down. “Where are we going?”

  “Dinner,” he answers simply, and I want to roll my eyes.

  “I know that, but where?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  I don’t know if I can handle any more surprises from him tonight. The flowers he brought me were a shock, especially after admitting he didn’t just bring me a store bought bouquet of flowers he picked at random. No, instead, he went out of his way to find out my favorite. Then his compliments and admitting he wanted to touch me have pushed me over my limit.

  “Can I have a hint?”

  “It’s hot.”

  “Do you mean spicy?” I ask, and I see his lips twitch like something is funny. “What?”

  “Do you not like surprises?”

  I think about it for a second, then answer honestly, “Not really.”

  “That’s a surprise.”

  “Why do you say that?” I ask, adjusting in the seat.

  “You read, and judging by the number of books you own, it’s a lot. I doubt you go into each book wanting to read it because you know how it’s going to end.”

  Darn, he has a point. Still, he’s also kinda wrong. “When I’m reading and get to a point in a book that makes me nervous about how things will turn out, I skip to the end just to make sure everything ends up okay.”

  “Really?” He glances at me.

  “Really. In my mind, I can’t move on with the book if I don’t know there is a happily ever after coming.”

  “That doesn’t ruin the story for you?”

  “No, it’s kind of like biting into a sandwich. The bread tastes good, but the meat, cheese, mayo, and mustard is what make it delicious. I never read much of the ending, just enough to feel good about what I’m going to get before I continue on.”

  “Oddly, I get that.”

  “You do?” I ask, knowing I sound as surprised as I am.

  “I do, but still, I like being surprised.” He stops at a red light and turns to smile at me. “Imagine thinking you grabbed the same sandwich you’ve eaten every day, but then you bite into it and realize it’s actually something you’ve never had and better than anything you’ve ever tasted.”

  “But what if it’s not?” I ask, holding his stare. “What if it’s gross and you have to toss it in the garbage and feel hungry for the rest of the day, because you didn’t stick to what you know?”

  “That’s life.” He looks away when the light turns green. “We can plan all we want, but at the end of the day, some things are out of our hands. One day, you might feel like you’ve got it all figured out, and then the next day comes and something unexpected happens, knocking you down or shoving you forward.”

  “That’s kind of deep for sandwich talk,” I say, half joking and half serious, his words resonating with a part of me I’m still trying to figure out. A part of me that wants to be brave and take chances.

  “You’re right, so we should go eat,” he replies, and I notice then that we’re pulling into a parking lot that is packed full of cars.

  It takes me a couple of seconds to figure out where we are, and when I do, I shake my head. “It’s hot,” I repeat his earlier clue, and he grins as he rolls into an empty space and shuts down the engine.

  “Surprised?” He turns toward me after putting the engine in Park and shutting it off.

  “Very.” Flame has been the talk of the town since it opened, and everything said about it has been good, which is why you need to call months ahead for a reservation. Or at least that’s what my dad said when he mentioned wanting to bring my mom. How did he get us a table?

  “I know the owner,” he answers my unspoken question, and I raise one brow. “I’ve done some work for him.”

  “Tattoos?” I ask, and he shakes his head.

  “No. Besides Flame, Mack, the owner of this place, has an online luxury car dealership. He made his money by purchasing vehicles from auctions for less than market value and then fixing them up and selling them online for less than what they are worth but more than what he paid. I’m one of the mechanics he uses to make whatever repairs are needed on his vehicles before they go up for sale.”

  “That’s smart.”

  “Yeah,” he agrees t
hen asks, “Are you ready to go inside?”

  “Yes.” I unhook my belt as he opens his door and hops out, and when I open my door to do the same, I pause. Logically, I know the distance to the ground isn’t that far. Still, I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it without spraining my ankle or worse.

  “I got you.” He appears in my open door, holding out his hands.

  I don’t think about what I’m doing. I lean toward him and wrap my palms around his shoulders, feeling his muscles bunch under my fingers. His hands curve around my waist and he carefully lifts me from the seat. When my feet touch the gravel, I tip my head back toward him, feeling off balance by our closeness. “Thanks.”

  “Anytime.” He doesn’t step back. Instead, he lifts his hand and touches my temple with a finger before slowly sliding my hair away from my face and tucking it behind my ear. I hold my breath as I stare into his eyes and fight the urge to use my hold on him to lift myself up and press my lips to his. “We should go in before they give away our table.”

  He takes a step back, leaving me off balance once more, even with his hand on the curve of my hip still holding me steady. With no other response, I nod as he lets me go and lift my purse over my shoulder, stepping away from the door so he can shut it. I take his hand when he offers it, and try to ignore the zap of electricity that zings through our connected palms as our skin makes contact. There is no denying there is some serious chemistry between us; I just hope we have something deeper than sexual attraction. Otherwise, this thing between us will burn out quickly. When we finally make our way through the crowd that is gathered around the front door, Gareth stops at a podium where three women, all dressed in black, are gathered around the tablet in the middle one’s hands. It doesn’t take long for them to look up, and when they do, I recognize one of them immediately as the mother of one my students from last year.

  “Miss Mayson.” She smiles at me.

  “Hi, Lina. Please, call me December,” I return, and she nods then looks at Gareth. Her eyes fill with appreciation before meeting mine once more. “This is Gareth,” I introduce, then ask, “How has Tiffany been?”

  Her face softens at my question and my heart warms. Lina is a single mom, and the relationship I witnessed between her and her daughter was something special. “Good. She loves her new school and her teachers. Though, she still talks about you all the time.”

  “I think about her often.” It’s not a lie. I think about all my kids when they are no longer under my care. Normally when they graduate from my class, they stay in the building I work in, so I’m able to check up on them from time to time. But Lina was forced to transfer Tiffany to a different school when the zones were changed. “I’m glad she’s doing good. You should bring her by the school sometime. I’d love to see her.”

  “I’ll have to do that. She’d enjoy that,” she says, and then glances at Gareth quickly. I notice he hasn’t said anything, but his fingers around mine have gotten tighter. “Sorry.” She shakes her head, looking a little embarrassed. “We’re not here to catch up. Do you two have a reservation?”

  “We do,” Gareth puts in, letting my hand go to wrap his arm around my waist. “Under Black.”

  Lina looks at the two women still standing next to her listening to our exchange, and the one in the middle types quickly on the tablet then looks up at us with wide eyes. I don’t know what to make of her expression, or have time to ask about it, before Lina is grabbing long sheets of paper out of a holder at the side of the podium. “Your table is ready.” She starts to walk away then looks at us over her shoulder. “Sorry.” She smiles. “Please, come with me.”

  We follow her through the packed restaurant, and I notice that every single table is taken up with people either enjoying their food or chatting with smiles on their faces as they wait for their meals to arrive. I feel Gareth close on my heels as we walk through a doorway behind Leah and up a set of stairs. When I crest the top of the stairs and see the view before me, my breath catches. Through the glass-enclosed space, there is nothing to see at this vantage point but twinkling stars and city lights. And with only four tables within the space and only one of them taken up with an older couple, it feels private.

  “This is beautiful,” I murmur as Lina stops at a table near the edge of the building, and Gareth pulls out my chair for me to sit.

  “Mack just finished this two days ago. You two and that couple over there, who are his parents, are the first to eat up here.” She looks at Gareth. “You must be good friends with Mack.”

  “You could say that,” he responds casually, and she eyes him for a moment then looks between the two of us.

  “Your waiter Simon will be with you shortly to go over the menu with you, but I have to tell you my favorite thing here to eat is the ginger, garlic, and honey baby back ribs, the house mac and cheese, with a side of greens.”

  My mouth waters. “That sounds good,” I say, because everything she mentions does. Still, I know I will never, not ever, order ribs to eat on a first date.

  “Trust me, everything on the menu is delicious,” she replies, looking pleased, before she bows slightly. “I hope you two have a great dinner.”

  “Thanks,” I tell her, and she smiles at me. I watch her walk away then look at Gareth, who touches his fingers to mine on top of the table.

  “You getting the ribs?” he asks with a small twitch of his lips.

  I shake my head then answer, “No. I mean, they sound good, but I don’t trust myself to eat them without making a mess of myself.”

  “You want them though, don’t you?”

  “Was I drooling when she was talking about them?” I ask.

  “A little.” He laughs. “I’ll order them and you can have one of mine.”

  “Just one?” I frown.

  “Don’t be greedy.”

  “Just one of anything is never enough,” I inform him straight-faced.

  He laughs again and I enjoy the deep sound. “Okay, two, but only if you promise to share whatever you order.”

  “I think you should know now that I’m greedy when it comes to my food.” I pick up my napkin and place it over my lap.

  “Does that mean you won’t share with me?”

  “I grew up with sisters who had no problem taking the last piece of pizza or the last scoop of ice cream. I learned early on to get as much food as possible before it was all gone. If you give me three of your ribs and a scoop of your mac and cheese, I’ll give you the scraps off my plate, but I can’t promise there will be much left.”

  He shakes his head. “I think I need to see what you order before I take that offer,” he responds, as a thin older man with no hair on his head approaches our table.

  “Good evening. My name is Simon, and I will be your server this evening.” The older gentleman inclines his head before he quickly rattles off the wine list and tells us about the house specials for the evening. I order a glass of wine, and Gareth orders a beer. We both agree on an order of fried green tomatoes as an appetizer, which means my stomach is growling in anticipation when Simon walks away.

  “Do you know what you’re going to order?” Gareth asks.

  I don’t even look at the menu. “The house special of fried hot honeyed chicken, mashed potatoes, and bacon green beans.”

  “Have you had hot chicken before?” he asks, looking concerned.

  “Have you ever been to Hattie B’s?” I answer his question with a question. Hattie B’s is famous for their hot chicken, and it’s one of my favorite chicken spots in Nashville.

  “I know it.”

  “I go there once a month. I would go more often, but I’m not normally in the mood to stand in line to eat.”

  “Seriously?” He looks surprised.

  “Seriously.” I nod, and he shakes his head in disbelief. “I would eat there every night if I could. I love it.”

  “I went once and never went back.”

  “Some people can handle the heat, and others can’t.” I smirk. “One thing
I also learned growing up—the spicier the food, the better my chance of getting more of it for myself.”

  “You probably have a point, because if the chicken you get tonight is even close to the heat of Hattie’s, I’ll keep my hands on my own plate.”

  “That’s fine, but just remember you already promised me a rib.”

  “I won’t forget,” he says as Simon comes back to drop off our drinks and take our orders.

  When he leaves once more, I lean back in my seat and take a sip of wine as Gareth takes a pull from his beer. “Where are your boys tonight?” I ask, not wanting to pretend like they don’t exist when they most definitely do.

  “With my mom. She’s taking the two of them to the movies and filling them up with junk food.”

  “What are they seeing?” I ask, setting my glass back on the table but keeping my fingers wrapped around the stem.

  “The new Marvel one that just came out.”

  “I want to see that,” I say, and he tips his head to the side. “What?” I ask when I see the look of disbelief in his eyes.

  “You like action movies?”

  “My list for movies goes: comedy, action, mystery.”

  “What about romance?”

  “It depends. Only if it’s a romantic comedy. If it is, it’s up there with my love of comedies, but if it’s just a romance, it’s normally a hard pass.”

  “That’s surprising.”

  “Why?”

  “You read romance.”

  “I do, but reading a romance book and watching a romance play out on screen are completely different. When you read about a couple, it’s like you are there with them, falling in love at the same time they are. You feel, smell, and see what they do. It’s difficult to portray that into actions and looks in a movie, which makes things awkward for me when I watch a romance unfold on screen.”

  “So your favorite movies are comedies?”

  “Yes, and I’m that person who is laughing the loudest in the theater, annoying everyone sitting around me.”