I’ll admit that I’m not a ten, but I would give myself a solid seven to an iffy eight. I’m not fat, but I’m not skinny. I have meat in all the right places. I’ve never had men complain about my body, or my sexual prowess, so when my young husband only wanted sex on Wednesdays, that did something to my self-esteem, and I still haven’t fully recovered.
Feeling the need to clear my head, I change out of Zane’s clothes and into my own. I grab the room key and head out to take a walk. The sun is sitting lower in the sky and with that comes a cooler temperature. It could reach 120 degrees during the day and drop down to 40 at night. Tonight it’s warm with a slight summer breeze.
I’m on my third lap around the parking lot when I notice the distinctive aroma of BBQ chicken. The scent draws me in like a magnet to metal.
“Hey,” I call out as I round the corner of the building. “I can smell that chicken from across the street. I had to come over.”
He swings around with barbeque tongs in his hand poised to attack. Recognition spreads across his face by way of a smile.
“You startled me. I wasn’t expecting anyone to sneak up on me.”
“Well, that’s usually what happens when someone sneaks around to your backyard. I didn’t mean to catch you off guard.” I make my way toward him and peek around his body at his culinary fare.
“The offer is still open if you want to join me and my little buddy for dinner.” He looks over toward the stroller by the table. I walk over and peek in at the sleeping baby.
“I was hoping you would say that. I looked at my microwave options and none of them enticed me.” I look back at Zane and see that his mood seems light and carefree.
“Why don’t you watch the chicken, and I will get the fixin’s from upstairs. Do you want me to bring you a beer?”
“Are you having one? I don’t want to drink if I’m drinking alone.”
“I’ll have one with you.” He turns and takes the stairs two at a time. His well-defined calf muscles flex and relax as he runs up the steps. Dressed in cargo shorts, a T-shirt and boat shoes, he looks like a prep––not a biker.
I turn around and begin to flip the chicken. I hear his distinctive step coming down the stairs. It’s like a cadence from a drum-line. I feel his presence directly behind me. The hiss of the bottle as he twists the cap off, whistles in my ear. His hand touches the small of my back making my body feel weak in the knees. I turn quickly and find my face planted in his chest. I sniff trying to get a whiff of him before he moves away, but he doesn’t budge. He stays there with his chest in my face. I tilt my head back and look into his eyes. We stand in silence staring at each other. Breaking the silence, he steps back and holds out a bottle of beer for me.
“Thanks.” I pull the bottle up to my mouth and take a long, slow drink, my eyes never leaving his. The intensity between us is palpable. It’s like there is a fissure of electricity arcing between us.
His head dips down, and I would swear he was going to kiss me. In that minute, I wasn’t sure if I should let him, or move to the side. The decision is made for me when he leans to the side, and grabs the tongs.
“I invited you, so you get to sit and relax. I’ll cook. We are having baked beans and corn on the cob as well.” He points to the table at the dishes he brought down. “Hand me those foil-wrapped corn, and I’ll slap them on the grill. I coated them in butter, salt and pepper, and placed a few fresh basil leaves in the packet.”
“That sounds yummy. So, I’m thinking, that you like to cook.” I look at the chicken cooking to a perfect crispy golden brown. “How did you become a financial analyst?”
“I was always good at math and decided to use that, in conjunction with the business management degree, I earned. I went to a California college and made some connections through my biker club. When I graduated, I was already working as an analyst. I look at people’s financial records, and I can spot their mistakes very much in the same way that you probably can when you’re looking at HTML.”
“Does it shout out to you? I look at code, and it’s like the errors flash in front of my eyes saying here I am. I can just scan a document, and it becomes 3D in my eyes with the errors popping off the page.”
“Yes, but in my case I see financial errors as red. They aren’t red, but my brain sees the discrepancy and color codes it. It’s always been easy for me. I was balancing my mother’s checkbook when I was six.”
“Wow, my checkbook hasn’t been balanced in a year. I should bring it over to you.”
“I would love to do that. Bring it to me.”
“I just might do that.” My stomach begins to grumble. “When is the chicken going to be finished? I’m starving. I’ve only had candy and sodas since breakfast this morning.”
He frowns at me. “You need someone to take care of you. You should be nicer to your body.”
“What? Now you’re going to tell me that I will age fifteen years because I eat shitty food? I’ve had a lot going on in my life lately. I’ll get back to taking better care of myself when I’m not living out of a motel room.”
“No, you look fabulous. I think you’re beautiful. I just worry about you because you don’t eat well, you don’t wear sunscreen, and I bet you don’t exercise.”
“Have you been looking at my cellulite-pebbled thighs? How do you know I don’t exercise?” I brace my hands on my hips and give him my best don’t go there look.
“You’re a computer geek, you sit in a room all day in front of a screen. You probably pour soda down your throat and nap during your lunch break.” He checks in on the baby, who is still sound asleep. “I only saw your legs today, in my much too baggy shorts, but from what I saw they looked amazing.” His eyes twinkle with mischief as a slow smile lights up his face. “I’m happy to take a closer look if you need me to.”
I blush from his flirty behavior. It’s been a very long time since any man has complimented me. “All right. You’re not too far off the mark, but I don’t see you pumping iron or jogging three miles a day. So what gives you the right to judge my fitness routine?”
“You don’t see me exercise because you don’t get up early enough. Aaron and I jog five miles, three days a week. We start early, before it gets too hot. You should come with us tomorrow.”
“You and Aaron jog…how?” My lips twist with skepticism.
“I have one of those three-wheeled jogging strollers. Aaron tends to sleep through the experience.” Zane picks up a dish from the table and walks back to the barbeque. He piles the chicken and corn on the plate and walks to the picnic table.
I slide into the bench while he sits across from me.
“What do you like?” he asks, with his tongs ready to dish up whatever I want.
“I like the legs and thighs. What about you?” He plops a leg and thigh on my plate and picks up a breast for himself.
“Ah…a breast man. That seems to run in the family.” I wink at him as he smiles.
“Yep, I love a succulent breast.” He stares directly at my boobs. Thank God I changed out of his clothes earlier and back into mine. His clothes were like wearing a pup tent. It’s not like what I’m wearing is sexy, but my jeans and tank top are better than what I was wearing earlier.
“Are you flirting with me?” I cock my head to the side and help myself to the baked beans and corn.
“Yes, I think I might be. Should I stop?” He takes a bite out of his chicken; his eyes never leave my face. A bead of BBQ sauce runs down the corner of his mouth. I reach over and swipe it off with my finger. I pull my finger into my mouth and suck it off. An audible groan escapes his lips. My initial reaction is to laugh. I try to suppress my giggle, but end up bursting into a full on, belly aching laugh.
“Sorry…sorry, I’m not laughing at you, I’m just laughing. I don’t think a man has groaned at me in years. I like it, and no I don’t want you to stop.” I look down at my plate trying to look at anything but his reaction. If there is anything other than a smile on his face, I’ll be crus
hed. I slowly lift my eyes. When I reach his face, there isn’t a smile; it’s more like a shit-eating grin. The kind of smile a boy gets after he’s copped his first feel.
We sit in companionable silence for a minute before he begins to talk again.
“Why don’t you stay here for a while, at least stay until you finish your project? You don’t have to hole up in your motel room; you can always come hang out with my boy and me. I could also use the help at the bar.” He looks at me with pleading eyes.
I contemplate his suggestion for a minute. I don’t have anywhere to go, and I would love to see more of Aaron. He is the sweetest baby ever.
“Tell you what, I will stay for a few weeks on one condition.” I contemplate how to address my stipulation. “I saw how your face lit up when you were talking about a weekend ride with your friend from the bar. I think you should consider going. I know you don’t know me that well, but I would love to spend the weekend with Aaron if you would trust me to do that.”
“Wow, I wasn’t expecting that condition. I was thinking something like having to do your laundry, or feed you dinner every night. I didn’t expect you to selflessly volunteer to watch my son so I could take a weekend ride.”
“I know it’s silly of me. I just thought that raising a child by yourself has to be exhausting. Who gives you a break?”
“I have babysitters. They’re all very good. I paid for them to get training through the Red Cross.”
“What the hell? What planet do you hail from? I know you’re not from here.” I raise my hands, palm up, and look around. “I have never met a man like you.”
“I don’t have much choice.” He looks at the stroller and then back at me. “My mom would love to help, but she lives in assisted care because she has Parkinson’s disease. She shakes so badly that she would never be able to hold him.”
“I totally forgot to ask about your mom. How is she?”
“She’s good, she’s back at her home. She has a good bruise, but thank goodness she didn’t break anything.”
“Will I ever get to meet her? I would love to meet the woman who gave you the name Zane. Did you know it means God’s gracious gift?”
“Actually, I did know, and that meaning is probably why I got the name. I’m the baby of the family. I have an older brother named Tyson, and a sister named Lisa. I was the last child she was going to have, so she decided that I was her gracious gift. As for meeting her, sure, she would like you.”
“That would be awesome.” I bounce a bit in my seat. “As you know, I love names, so I am always looking them up.”
“What does Alexa mean?” He takes a bite of his corn and wipes the juice that runs down his chin.
“It’s a derivative of Alexander and means ‘to defend.’”
“Wow, I can see you being a protective person. I think you would defend someone you love to the death.”
I feel a lump build in my throat. This discussion is getting way too personal for me. I look out over the yard. My next question is an attempt to change the subject.
“Did your house come like this when you bought it?”
“What do you mean? Are you asking if there was a house over the bar?”
“No, I wanted to know if it looked like it does now, when you bought it. It’s amazing. I love the kitchen, and that tub and shower are to die for. The décor is very man cave, but I like it, it’s comfortable.”
“When I bought the bar, it was in shambles. It had been abandoned for a few years. I got a great deal on it.” His eyes gaze at the top floor. “I had the upstairs gutted and gave the downstairs a facelift. I made sure to have my house soundproofed to the extreme. You can’t hear a sound when you’re upstairs. Little did I know then, how important it would be now.”
“How did you meet Aaron’s mom? You don’t have to answer, I am just curious.” I put my last spoon of beans into my mouth and chew.
“She used to ride through town on occasion. We would casually hook up. I didn’t even know her last name until I got his birth certificate.”
“You know that the average man would have never done what you did.”
“I don’t know, I don’t think you give men enough credit.”
“You could be right, I haven’t had many responsible men in my life.”
He looks at me and frowns. “Here’s the thing. My father abandoned us when I was eight. He walked out one day and never came back. I remember sitting on my bed crying. I blamed myself for his leaving. That morning, I asked him for lunch money. He tossed me a dollar and told me that I was sucking the life out of him.”
“Oh my God, that’s awful.” I reach forward and grab his hand. He opens his palm and folds it around my hand.
“The worst part was that I thought if only I hadn’t asked for a dollar. If I had just gone without lunch that day, maybe he would have stayed.” He uses his thumb to stroke my hand. “I know better now. He didn’t leave because of me, he left in spite of me, and that hurts more. He had kids, and he didn’t give us a second thought. I promised myself then that if I ever had a child, they would become the center of my universe. I’m not willing to let my past hurt influence my future joy.”
I could just kiss this man. He’s an anomaly. I sit holding his hand and hope that he doesn’t let go of mine. His touch brings me joy, something I’ve been without for a long time. I need this––need him. He sits here and holds my hand and has no idea how complete I feel in this moment.
“This morning you were having a bad dream. You were crying in your sleep. You kept saying ‘how could you Tyler?’ Who is Tyler?”
I sit for the longest time thinking of the best way to explain who Tyler is, without going into too much detail. I don’t want to relive my past tonight.
“Tyler is my ex-husband. We were married for four years. We divorced last year.”
“Oh…well…you waited a long time to run.” He squints his eyes at me as if trying to solve a puzzle.
I look at him, stunned. He’s a very perceptive man and doesn’t miss much.
“There was a civil suit after our divorce. Let’s just say that it didn’t end in my favor. I walked out of court Friday and headed north––well actually northeast. The rest you know.”
“I’m afraid I don’t know much, but I hope that someday you will trust me enough to confide in me. I know what hurt looks like, and I see it in your eyes.”
“Shall we clean up?” I look at him and notice his eyes look sad too. I suppose if I want him to trust me with his son, I should trust him with some of my secrets.
We gather the dishes, and the baby, and walk upstairs. I know I should head home, but Aaron is awake and I want to play with him. I steal him from his father’s arms and rush him to his room so I can change him. This time I plan to guard myself against his geyser.
“You don’t have to change him. I can do it. He may have a dirty diaper.” He walks up behind me and cages me in. With one long arm on each side of me, I am trapped between him and the changing table. My heart is all a flutter.
“I want to do it. I hope to prove to you that I’m responsible enough to watch your son while you take a break.” I remove the baby’s shorts and T-shirt and get to work on the diaper. Thank goodness it was just a wet one. This is my first diaper change ever.
I dress him in a onesie and get ready to pick him up. His dad is still behind me. I can feel the heat of his body sear my back from his nearness.
“Wait,” he says as I begin to pick up the baby. I stop and release him. What did I do wrong? I feel his hands on my shoulders. He turns me to face him, and I see something in his eyes. I turn back and pick Aaron up. I’m so afraid he will fall. Twisting back toward Zane, I see his focus is on my lips. “I’m going to kiss you,” he says.
He bends over and lightly touches my lips with his. It’s more of a drive-by than a head-on collision, but I like where he’s taking me. He brushes my lips again. I feel his hand wind through my hair and pull me forward. He deepens the kiss. Our lips are ful
ly engaged, but our tongues are absent from the mix.
I slide one hand up his chest and wrap my arm around his neck. As soon as I run my fingers through his hair, the kiss becomes very different. Before, he was kissing me, and I was enjoying what he gave, but I offered nothing in return. With my hand gripping his hair, I am a willing partner ready to match him.
Our tongues mingle together. I fold into his body wanting to stay in his embrace forever. I suck in the essence of him––his taste––his feel. I am safe with him. Everything about this feels right. He feels right.
Aaron makes a frustrated screech, which brings us both back to reality. I slowly remove my hand from his hair and drag it slowly down his chest before I back away. The last thing I do is remove my lips from his. It’s as if I’ve been glued to him. Breaking the kiss is almost unbearable. I can’t help but wonder if he feels the same?
I hug the baby to my chest and kiss his head. He smells like baby powder and barbeque. My eyes raise to look into Zane’s. I see his warmth as he watches me hold his child, and I know deep in my heart that what we shared is way more than a kiss. Breaking the uncomfortable silence, I ask, “Do you want him, or can I hold him for a bit before I go home?” The thought of leaving twists at my heartstrings, but I know I can’t sleep on his couch every night.
“You can hold him. I’m sure he would love that. It’s time for his dinner. Can you feed him while I clean up?”
“I would love that.” I carry him to the kitchen and prepare his bottle. Everything seems relaxed and normal in spite of the kiss we just shared. I watch as Zane tidies the kitchen and notice that there’s easiness to his demeanor that wasn’t there before, he seems comfortable––content.
I enter the living room and sit on the couch. I watch Aaron’s little eyes smile as he sucks voraciously at the rubber nipple. Every few ounces I stop and burp him. He manages to suck the bottle dry at the same time as his dad finishes the dishes. Perfect timing.
“I should be going. I have more work to do. Thanks for feeding me.” I hand the baby to his father, and reluctantly head to the back door.
Book Boyfriends Cafe Summer Lovin' Anthology 2015 Page 141