Just Like a Hero

by Patricia Pellicane

  He shrugged. “Either one is my favorite.”

  She was applying a touch of liner to her lid as she shot him a hard look through the bathroom mirror. “A favorite means you like one. They can’t both be your favorite.”

  “They can if it’s chicken in sauce with pasta.”

  She frowned, knowing she had to leave to finish her makeup. She only had her phone, lipstick, toothbrush and an eyebrow pencil in her purse. Of course, he wouldn’t have moisturizer. She didn’t bother to ask.

  “Don’t you think we’re rushing things a little?” she asked.

  “Rushing what? Eating? Doesn’t everyone eat?”

  “I’m talking about meeting my parents.”

  “Are you afraid they won’t like me?”

  “Of course, they’ll like you. They’d like anyone who treats their daughter…” She searched for the right word and finally said, “Good.”

  He raised and lowered his brows in quick succession. “Only we won’t tell them how good, right?”

  She grinned. “You’re bound to lose some blood while pinning all those metals on your chest.”

  He shrugged. “If I don’t do it, who will? You don’t give me compliments.”

  “All right, you can come with me Sunday. Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means my parents aren’t known for their subtlety. You’re the first man I’ve brought home. You’re going to get lots of questions.”

  He allowed another shrug as he whipped the towel from his hips and used it to vigorously dry his hair, sending a shower of droplets over her just-dried and styled hair. She gasped a startled, “Stop!” as she reached for the towel and slowed his movements. He grinned as he dried his arms and chest. Naked except for a towel hanging from his neck, he needed a shave and his damp hair stood on end, but with a flash of his white smile he’d never looked more enticing to her. She frowned as something tightened in her chest. Hunger, she said to herself, then out loud, “I need some breakfast.”

  “Move over. I have to brush my teeth.” He spotted her toothbrush and reached for it.

  Aghast she grabbed his hand in mid-reach. “Don’t even think about using my toothbrush.”

  “After last night?” he asked with some amazement, obviously inferring the intimacies shared went far beyond a mere toothbrush.

  She nodded. “Even after last night,” she repeated. “Use your own brush.” She folded hers, slipped it into its case and back in her purse. Then moved a few inches to allow him to reach his own brush.

  “How come you had a toothbrush in your purse?”

  “I always keep one there.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugged. “Always have. It comes in handy. Suppose I step in dog poop and have to clean my shoe.”

  He grinned as he watched her hold her purse just a little closer to her chest. “Don’t worry, you’re safe.”

  “I was always safe. That’s one thing we don’t share.”

  He sent her a totally disarming grin and said in all confidence, “After we get married you’ll come around.”

  She smiled at the casual remark and clarified, “I might come, but I’ll never come around.”

  “What do you mean, might?” He leaned a hip against the sink, his brush in hand, bubbles overflowing his lips. Lexie felt a shock of amazement. How in the world did a man look sexy with uncombed hair, a whiskered jaw and a mouthful of bubbles? Momentarily confused, she tore her gaze away from his amused expression and left the room.

  Lexie frowned. Her clothes were scattered everywhere. Her shoes were at his front door. Her blouse and slacks were on the floor near them but shoved against the wall and wrinkled beyond hope. Her bra was on his coffee table; her panties near his couch. She dressed in his living room and left her damp towel on his leather chair.

  With her panties and bra in her purse, she grabbed her package and hesitated. After the passion shared last night, she wasn’t sure how to say goodbye. Finally she called out a simple, “See you later,” and was gone.

  She’d just opened the door to her apartment when the phone rang. She picked up the receiver. He didn’t say hello or goodbye, just, “I’m getting coffee and bagels. Make breakfast. I’ll be right back.”

  * * * *

  “What time you going in today?” he asked around a bite of mushroom and onion omelet. “God, this is delicious. How did you make these hash browns so fast? I was only gone a few minutes.

  “It only takes a few minutes, a small piece of onion and a grated, clean potato. And I’m not going in today. I work four days a week at the restaurant. Saturdays I work for Mr. Shummer, when he’s in town. He’s away for the week.”

  He made a grumbling sound of annoyance. “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have worked it out to take off today. We could have spent it in bed.”

  “I need to rest after last night. You can come to dinner tonight. I cook on my nights off. I’ll have two or three dishes for you to try.”

  He wiped his mouth and took a sip of coffee, while never taking his gaze from her. He studied her, for a long moment, before he nodded. “I think you’re going to work out just fine.”

  She laughed. “You think so? I’m happy for you.”

  “You should be. Together, we’re going to be amazing.”

  She smiled. “Besides, chicken and pasta, do you like a particular dish?”

  He shrugged. “Steak and potatoes are good.”

  She shook her head. “We had steak last night.”

  “Surprise me. Half the time I walk in here, I think I’m in a restaurant. Everything smells delicious, especially you.”

  “Thank you,” she said then glanced at her watch. “You’re going to be late.”

  Checking his own watch, he shoved back his chair and stood. “Damn, Judge Connery is a stickler for punctuality. I’ve got to hurry.”

  “It’s Saturday. There’s no court on Saturdays.”

  He grabbed his suit jacket and briefcase. “It’s a meeting. Walk me to your door.”

  Lexie smiled but cooperated. At her door, he leaned down. “Thank you for breakfast.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I need a kiss to fortify me for the day.”

  “You’re being very silly,” she insisted. Still, she offered no resistance as they moved into each other’s arms.

  The kiss was long and deep, causing her an ache and a soft sigh of pleasure as it swiftly worked its way toward hunger. She pulled back. “That’s enough. You’ve got to go and I’ve got things to do.”

  “I could call-in, a last minute emergency. I could say my dog died.”

  She smiled. “You don’t have a dog.”

  “Yeah, that’s a problem. I could always—”

  “Go. You could always go,” she said as she ushered him out the door.

  * * * *

  Lexie was working on her recipes and making a list of items she needed from the store, when her phone rang again. “Breakfast was delicious. I forgot to thank you.”

  “You didn’t forget. You thanked me at my door, remember? What happened with Judge Connery? Why aren’t you in your meeting?”

  “He was delayed at his place upstate. Judges are allowed to be delayed. ADA’s, not so much.”

  “What happened?”

  “Lots of rain, I suppose. The roads are too muddy to get out. I can’t wait until tonight.”

  It took a second to figure out what he was talking about, since he’d changed the subject without a moment’s hesitation. “You don’t even know what I’m making.”

  “I was thinking about after dinner. Maybe, we could make something together.”

  She laughed. “Oh, I see. You mean dessert? Would you like to help me make S’mores?”

  “Is that dessert?”

  “Yes.”

  “Of course, I’ll help you and I already know I’ll want some more.”

  She frowned, looked at her phone and put it back to her ear. “Where
are you?”

  “In my office. No one can hear me, don’t worry.”

  “I wouldn’t think of worrying,” she said. “Go to work. I have shopping to do.”

  “See you later.”

  She hung up.

  Chapter Five

  Jim frowned as Lexie opened the door to his knock. His gaze moved past her into her short hallway and the sounds of chattering beyond. “What are they doing here?”

  “Who?”

  “Our neighbors,” he said on a whisper. “I thought we might take our clothes off and eat naked.”

  She grinned. “You thought that, did you?” She grinned at his obvious disappointment. “If it means that much to you, I suppose you could. I’m sure you’ll find the ladies interested.”

  “What about you? Would you be interested?”

  She only smiled, ignored his question and opened the door wider, silently inviting him in. “I invite them every time I cook. I thought you knew.”

  “You forgot I just moved here.”

  She whispered very softly, lest she be overheard. “They don’t have much, so this meal and their doggie-bags help out some.”

  He frowned again and asked suspiciously, “Are you rich?”

  “Not yet.” She laughed. “It doesn’t cost that much, and they eat like birds.”

  “Right,” he said, obviously unconvinced. “A parakeet or a vulture?”

  Lexie only grinned in response. “Come help me in the kitchen.”

  As they walked through her apartment, the seniors welcomed him profusely.

  Obviously, they were happy to see he’d been invited. Truly, their one hope was to see Lexie married to a nice young man. Each of them had told her just that often enough, and apparently, they had decided that Jim fit the bill.

  Before he managed to break away from the group and join Lexie in the kitchen, Mr. Burton came up to him, put an hand on his shoulder, a difficult maneuver to say the least since Mr. Burton was a small man who was slightly bent from age and years of hard labor which caused him to appear even smaller. He didn’t seem to notice the unusual stance but held on and in a conspiring tone asked, “So tell me, boy, anything new?”

  Jim shot Lexie’s grin a quick glance as she silently allowed an I told you so look. “Anything new? Hmm, let me think.” His gaze brightened as he said, “Well, I got this case today. An old man was killed, and the woman who did it claims she was justified because he gossiped about her, telling mostly lies until she just couldn’t take it anymore. That’s a wildly unrealistic reason to kill a person, don’t you think?” he asked even as his tone and manner obviously relished the particularly horrific story. “I mean whoever heard of such a thing?”

  Mr. Burton shot Lexie a quick and, if she wasn’t mistaken, guilty glance before his hand fell away from Jim’s shoulder. That same hand shook as he reached into his pocket for his handkerchief. Blanching, he drew it out and went about the business of cleaning his glasses. He asked in a shaken voice, “Murder is a little drastic, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Oh, it is, but you never know what some folks might do when pushed too far. I’m an ADA, and certainly, I can’t condone murder, but I can still see why some might be tempted.”

  Mr. Burton allowed a weak smile and muttered his need to ask Mrs. Dietz an important question.

  Jim stepped into the kitchen at last. “This place smells great,” he said as he took in the pot of simmering sauce and a huge bowl filled with cooked spaghetti.

  “What was that about?”

  “I’ll tell you later. I don’t know why people don’t just drop in, thinking this place is a restaurant.”

  “Thank you,” she said. “I do hope to open my own place one day.”

  “One day soon?”

  She shrugged. “Reasonably soon.”

  “Really? Have you got that kind of money already?”

  “What do you mean already?”

  “Well, according to my CIs—that’s confidential informants,” he explained with a grin and allowed a discreet nod toward her living room.

  She laughed.

  “According to them, you’ve only been working five years.”

  “I have, but I’ve been saving since I got out of school. And this guy at work is thinking along the same lines. We might work up a partnership.”

  “Can I buy in?”

  She frowned. “You don’t know anything about it.”

  “I know you. I don’t need to know more than that. Besides, on my salary, I could never afford to eat in a place like that unless I owned a tiny piece of it.”

  She shook her head in the negative. “I don’t know if it’s going to be so expensive.” Almost to herself and with a shake of her head, she added, “With this economy and all.” She brightened. “Still I’m thinking really exclusive,” she shrugged, “so maybe a little expensive.”

  “How much are we talking?”

  “Let’s wait on that. Right now, plans are only in the talking stage. And I have definite ideas on how I want to run the place. Perhaps, you won’t agree.”

  “What kind of ideas?”

  “For one, it will be closed Saturdays and Sundays. No lunches on any day.” She smiled at his look of surprise. “Once word gets out, people will wait months for a reservation.”

  She grinned at his obvious confusion and answered before he asked the question, “It’s simple, really. Minimize what folks are allowed, and they’ll always want more.”

  He nodded and smiled. “Good thinking. Now you have to let me buy in.”

  “Do I? Why?”

  “Because you’ll end up too rich for an ADA and won’t give me a second look.”

  He was going to kiss her. She could see it in his eyes, in the set of his shoulders, the softening of his lips. Before he moved any closer, she quickly offered, “I made soup. Here, let me give you a taste.”

  She uncovered a brewing pot, spooned a few mouthfuls into a cup then handed it to him. “Oh my God,” he said after the first taste. “What is this?”

  “It’s good, right?”

  “Good?” he asked. “It’s better than delicious.”

  “That’s Tuscan sausage and potato soup. I got the recipe on line this morning and added a bit of my own to it.”

  “And this green stuff?”

  “A little spinach.”

  “God, Lexie, I could make a meal of just this soup.”

  She smiled. “And bread. I think it should go with crunchy garlic bread, but not now. Tonight, we’re having meatballs, sauce and pasta.” She shrugged, clearly dismissing his obvious delight. “We always have that. But this time, I made a tray of Chicken Francese.”

  “I’m going to get fat,” he said, morosely, as he finished the soup. “Then I’ll die young of a heart attack, leaving you a beautiful, rich widow. But at least, I’ll have been happy.”

  She laughed. “You’re not dying. You’re going to eat like those sweet, little people and die old, healthy and skinny.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe not healthy, if I’m dead.”

  She agreed with a nod and a shrug. “Maybe not.

  “Help me put this food on the table.”

  * * * *

  It wasn’t long after dinner that Lexie sent each of her guests home with a plastic plate and snap on cover, filled with food. There was enough spaghetti to last each of them two more meals. Between their food stamps and Lexie’s dinners, plus the peanut butter and jelly they got every few weeks, they never lacked for food.

  “You give them a lot.”

  She shook her head. “Not really. One jar of peanut butter is likely to last me three months. Spaghetti goes far. You saw the mountain two pounds made. And a few meatballs cost next to nothing.” She smiled. “They’re just so sweet. What do you think of that prayer tonight?”

  He grinned. “They love you. Do they always pray before meals? Or was that just for me?”

  Lexie shrugged. “They always pray, but never like that. I think you’re right. That one was for you.�
�� She laughed. “They were hardly unassuming, asking God to bless our children.”

  He laughed. “I have to say, hearing that was a bit of a shock.”

  “I know. I saw your face and had to force back a burst of laughter right in the middle of it. Still, except for the prayer, they were pretty good, better than I expected. They never asked a question about last night, never even mentioned us.”

  “I think they figured there was no need. They’ve already made up their minds that we are a couple.”

  Lexie said nothing to his comment.

  Finally he asked, “So, are we?”

  She smiled as she turned to face him and wiped her soapy hands on a kitchen towel. “What do you think?”

  “What I think is I’m damn near close to falling in love with you.”

  “Wow,” she commented, obviously startled. “Already?”

  “It’s not that sudden. Truth is I’ve known you a month and was half in love with you since the day I saw you struggling with your laundry.”

  “Did I ever thank you for your help?”

  He shrugged. “You said thank you, but I can think of better ways to show gratitude.”

  “No doubt,” she returned with a snicker.

  He smiled as his arms reached around her. “I thought I was pretty damn perfect, just like a hero in one of those books women read, carting in that heavy bag, bleach and soap and putting it just inside your apartment.”

  Lexie giggled. “Like a hero, eh?”

  He ignored the interruption. “You could have offered me a cup of coffee, but did you?”

  “Maybe, I was overwhelmed by your heroic gesture and couldn’t think, until you said, ‘Night’, nodded and walked out of my place.”

  “Night? Is that what I said?”

  She nodded. “I particularly remember it because it was just a few minutes after noon.” As she spoke she aligned her hips to his and snuggled closer.

  “That was dumb.”

  “It wasn’t dumb at all. It was very sweet.”

  His arms reached around her waist and held her closer. “Don’t tell me I’m sweet. That’s what you say about our neighbors. It was dumb, when I wanted to say, ‘Lexie, I think you’re gorgeous. I love the smell of your cooking. I love the smell of you. And what kind of fabric softener do you use?’”