“And I want two desserts.”
“You’ll be lucky if Tom leaves you one,” I grumbled.
24
BEFORE I OPENED my shop the following morning I made my way over to the Wheelers to check on my mother.
She was nursing a cup of black coffee at the table, cigarette in one hand, and staring absentmindedly at a bottle of aspirin.
“It works better if you take it instead of looking at it,” I quipped.
“Very amusing. And I am deciding if I want a second dose, not my first.”
“Where are Aunt Lindy and Plenty?” I asked.
“Still upstairs. They went up shortly after we came home last night, and have been laying low ever since.”
I sat down across from her and sighed as I waved away her cigarette smoke. “Why do we all keep fighting?”
“How do you mean?”
“Look at how much you drank last night. And look at all the insults we keep lobbing at one another. Why does it always have to be me competing with Plenty, you measuring Plenty’s successes against my own? Why does someone have to be thinner or prettier or have more money? Can’t we just let things be?”
“I don’t have the stomach to listen to this kind of talk. Not this morning,” my mother grumbled.
“She makes a good point.”
We both turned when Tom’s voice interrupted our discussion. He was pouring himself a mug of coffee and foraging around in the refrigerator.
“Since everybody overdid it last night – well, all the womenfolk did – I am going to whip up a good hangover breakfast,” Tom said.
“Sounds good to me,” Mom said.
“How about you, Poppy? Are you hungry?”
“I had a couple eggs when I got up, so I’m good. I might be inclined steal a couple slices of that bacon you’re frying if it’s set in front of me.”
“You don’t have a hangover?” Mom looked surprised.
I shook my head. “I had something like three glasses of wine, tops, and I ate well. I stayed up late, too, tidying up so I sobered by bedtime.”
“I seem to remember you drinking wine right from the bottle,” Mom said.
“Yes, but you drained most of it.”
“Did Roger stay over?” Mom’s eyes took on a mischievous quality.
I shook my head. “He stayed a while longer after you all left, but he didn’t spend the night.”
“What are you waiting for?” Mom asked.
“Probably a night of peace and quiet,” Tom interjected.
“They could do something that would ensure they sleep peacefully. Oh, wait,” my mom’s eyes brightened. “I know what you’re doing. You’re withholding the milk so he’ll want to buy the cow.”
“Um, no,” I said. “It just hasn’t been the right time yet is all. I’d like to take our relationship to the next level, but I don’t feel like doing that until we get some time to ourselves again. You know, like a day when my mother isn’t butting in and offering me advice on personal grooming habits or sex swings or barging in first thing in the morning to do some sort of white glove inspection.”
“Is that where you were that morning,” Tom asked.
My mother shrugged, blasé, and motioned for her husband to refill her coffee. She took another sip and sauntered off to the bathroom. “I want three eggs, sunny side up,” she commanded.
I waited until she was out of earshot before speaking. “I’m getting my locks changed, by the way. I’ll give you a spare key on the promise that you hide it – and hide it well – from my mother.”
“Consider it done,” Tom said, as he slid a cup of coffee in front of me. “Poppy?” He asked.
“Yes?”
“Is there any more of that pie left from last night?”
I nodded. “I’ve got a big slice set aside, with your name on it.”
He smiled. “I’ll stop at the hardware store today and pick up some new locks for you and install them once Lindy and Plenty are out of town.”
He set a plate of bacon on the table. I drained my coffee and snatched up a piece of meat as I stood to leave, giving him a quick hug before I made my way out the door.
“Thanks, Tom. You’re the best.”
“Tell your mother.”
“Oh, she knows.”
“It never hurts to remind her.”
Aunt Lindy and cousin Plenty’s visit was already proving stressful. With Plenty’s high energy and my mother ratcheting up her demands on me to look or act a certain way, my nerves were frayed.
Roger stopped by that afternoon. He pulled an envelope out of his pocket.
“I scored last-minute tickets for a show across the river, and it’s for tonight only.”
When I pressed for more details, he wouldn’t budge. When I tried to grab the envelope out of his hands, he easily held it over my head and out of reach. I hopped up a couple times, trying to snatch it away from him, but failed. He seemed to appreciate the effort.
“Keep on jumping up and down like that,” he laughed.
“What if you’re ticklish? If you are, I could easily wrestle that away from you.”
“I dare you to try.”
I did. I poked a finger into his firm stomach, but he didn’t respond. I then walked my fingers along his side. Still nothing. A few inches north, along the rib cage, and he jerked out of my way.
“Ah-ha,” I laughed. “It seems I’ve discovered something.”
“I’m taller and stronger than you, so if you are ticklish, I suggest you think before you try me.”
I was ticklish, though not all over. But if he found a trigger spot, I’d be in trouble. I decided to fold.
He relaxed and put his hands down. “Not willing to try? I guess that means you’re ticklish, too.” He extended a couple fingers in my direction and wiggled them near my ribs. I stepped back. “And now I know where you are ticklish.”
I grimaced and tried to grab the envelope from him again. He tucked it into his jeans.
“Is that to keep it safe, or is that an invitation to plunder?” I teased.
Roger shrugged, a lazy grin creeping across his handsome features. “I figure if you decide to ruin your surprise, it’ll still be fun for me.”
“Uh-huh.” I pondered my next step. Part of me really wanted me to get ahold of those tickets, especially considering the tempting hiding spot.
The arrival of a customer forced the decision.
I turned and greeted the middle-aged woman who had entered my shop, then spun back to Roger.
“You won’t tell me what you have planned?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“But what should I wear?” I pressed, hoping for a clue.
“There’s no need to dress up. Just be at my place at eight sharp.”
Later, when my mother pushed for me to do something with the family, I explained Roger had something in mind, and shared my limited knowledge.
“But where is he taking you?” she pressed. “We have company!”
“I don’t know. He won’t tell me.”
She sighed and let it go. I felt a surge of relief. I’m not huge on surprises, but I knew I’d rather spend a few hours doing something – anything – with Roger, especially if it meant a respite from our visiting family’s dramas.
I closed my shop a bit early and dashed home. I fed my cats, gave them a few minutes of attention and then freshened up. I opted for a simple black skirt that skimmed my hips and landed a couple inches above my knees, paired with a shimmery dove gray sweater. I thought that it would work well whether we went to dinner, a play, a bar or game.
I then headed over to Roger’s. I hadn’t yet seen his place, so I was hoping to linger there for a few minutes and enjoy a tour.
Before I even had a chance to knock, he was at the door. He held out a hand, theatrically allowing me entrance.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he said, looking me up and down.
I blushed and told him thank you.
His place wa
s surprisingly cozy for a bachelor’s home. He had a huge living room, much bigger than mine, with shades of sage green, chocolate brown and ivory dominating. A stone fireplace was flanked by two recliners, a loveseat and a massive leather couch. Behind the sofa was a full wall of bookshelves, loaded with a mix of new paperbacks and many well-worn hardcovers. The floors were rustic hardwood, and a thick patterned rug occupied most of the seating area.
I caught a whiff of something good in the air.
“Do you like to cook?” I asked.
“A few things. I can do good barbecue, steak, roasted chicken and baked pasta dishes.”
“It smells really good. So, what are we doing tonight?”
He smiled and pulled out the envelope he had waved before me earlier that day, then handed it to me.
I took it and peered inside. I looked at him, confused. “It’s empty.”
“I confess, I don’t really have tickets for anything.”
“But you said …”
He held a hand out to still me. “I know. But I saw how stressed you were with your family’s visit, I decided to act like I had tickets for something so you – we – could have some time away from your family chaos. What I really have planned is a dinner I made for us to share.”
I laughed, both shocked and secretly pleased. “You could have just said you wanted me over for dinner.”
“Considering the way things have been the last few days, I had my doubts about that. Had you told your mother that you were just coming to eat supper at my place, I suspect she either would have told you to bring me over to her place, or wherever she is taking Lindy and Plenty. Or she would have told you to strongly suggest I invite everyone over here. Telling you I had two tickets for something across the river was vague enough to be believable. I hope you’re not disappointed.”
I shook my head. “Not at all. I’m hugely relieved.”
“Even though you’re all dressed up to go out?”
“It’s just a skirt and sweater. I picked it because it seemed versatile.”
“I like seeing you in a skirt. And that sweater clings to all the right places.”
I felt a little tingle welling up from deep down inside of me. I liked the way his eyes had lingered over my curves.
“So, shall we eat?” Roger said, leading me to the dining room.
“Definitely. I’m starving.”
An hour later I was full. He had bread, salad and a simple but excellent pasta dish. I insisted on helping him put things away and load dishes in the dishwasher, and then he led me to the living room.
“Would you like dessert?” he asked. “I have ice cream – Blue Moon and a Mackinac Island fudge flavor.”
“I’ll take a raincheck on the ice cream, for now. Maybe in an hour or so.” At that moment I just wanted to be near him. He lit a fire and we sat on some cushions in front of the fireplace.
I looked around, admiring the room. “It’s cozy in here,” I told him. “I like it.”
We were silent for a few moments. I closed my eyes enjoying the warmth of the fire. I heard my cell phone ping, and stood up to retrieve it.
“What if it’s your mother?” Roger asked.
“I’m sure it is,” I said, pulling it out of my purse and looking at the screen. A text from her popped into view. “Yup.”
“What does she say?”
“She wants to meet us somewhere. For the family’s sake, she says.” I turned my phone off – “I should have done that before I came here” – and buried it inside my purse before sitting down on the couch.
Roger smiled and sat next to me. “That’s no problem. You rushed here from work.”
“You probably did too,” I said.
He shrugged. “I had someone handle the last few hours’ duties so I could focus on tonight.”
“I’m glad you did. Dinner was very pleasurable.”
“What else gives you pleasure,” Roger asked, inching closer to me.
While I pondered how to answer that, I turned my head away to gaze at the fireplace. Suddenly I felt his lips grazing the side of my neck. “Do you like that?” he asked.
Did I ever. “That’s …” I lost my train of thought as he returned to my neck, slowly kissing and nuzzling it, going up and down gently, behind my ears, along my earlobe, and then making his way back down toward my throat. Words fled my mind and I was struck mute by how good the simple gesture felt.
“I think you like that,” he said, cupping my chin in his hand and gently directing me to face him. He tilted his head to the side and planted a slow, soft kiss on my lips. I opened my mouth a tiny bit and the kiss grew deeper, more insistent and more probing. I sank into it and mirrored the motions, moaning a bit at the sensations spilling through my body.
“You aren’t lying,” I murmured into his mouth.
“About what?” he asked, smiling as he gazed at me.
“About liking this.”
He brushed his lips against mine again as he pulled me closer to him. I felt his fingers caress my side and he wrapped his arms around me, pulling me tight, kissing with growing intensity. He was an amazing kisser, I thought. I wondered what else he might be good at.
Finally he tugged me close and pulled me on top of his lap, embracing me tightly. I leaned in to him, enjoying running my hands up and down his strong back and kneading his broad shoulders, enjoying his solidity.
His hands slipped under my sweater, caressing my bare skin. I arched my back in response, crushing my breasts against his chest. He kept kissing me as he unclasped my bra and reached around to release my breasts. He cupped them and his warm, slightly rough hands felt unbelievably good. I moaned in approval as his hands traveled down, caressing my hips and cupping my bottom as he pulled me tighter to him. I felt his manhood growing under my seat, and his growing desire only further fueled mine.
“Are you interested in a tour of my bedroom?” he asked.
“Most …”
Three loud raps at the front door jerked us from our reverie.
“I’m going to ignore it,” Roger said.
I sat on his lap while we waited quietly, hoping if we made no sound that whoever it was would go away. No luck. The knocking repeated, this time louder, more insistent. We remained silent.
“Poppy! I know you’re in there!”
It was Mom.
I sighed and climbed off Roger’s lap. He adjusted himself as I refastened my bra and pulled my sweater down and smoothed my skirt. A second later he opened the door and in stormed Mom.
“Why aren’t you across the river?” she hissed.
“Why are you here?” I asked. “How did you find us?”
“I had to get out to get away from … that devil. I drove around and went by your place. I saw your car gone, then I called Tom and asked if he knew where Roger lived. He told me the street, but not the address, so I drove up and down and spotted your car here. I saw his, too, so I knew you weren’t across the river.”
“Well, the show hasn’t started yet,” I lied.
“Oh, you just made something up to get out of entertaining my sister and that little beast. Admit it!”
“I made up nothing of the sort!” I snapped.
“You should be helping your mother in her time of need. Especially after I gave you a hundred dollars the other night!”
“What? Did your mom try and bribe you or something?” Roger asked.
I shook my head. “My mom won big at the casino. She gave me some money as a gift because I got Tom off her back about some pricey shoes she’d bought.”
My mother looked at Roger. “Don’t you believe her! And don’t you ever tell Tom how much I paid for my shoes!”
Roger held his hands out in a placating manner. “I’m not getting into any shopping or shoe fights, okay? As for Poppy lying, she didn’t make anything up. I told her I had tickets for some secret event so we could spend a few hours alone.” He waved his hand toward the kitchen. “I even cooked dinner.”
“Oh. Wel
l, that’s kind of romantic. I approve.”
“It was romantic. Right until you started hammering on the door and interrupting our night,” I fumed.
My mother waved me off. “I’m all for some romance, but right now family is more important.”
“Then maybe you should spend some of that ‘right now’ with your sister and niece,” I pressed.
“Not that family. I’m talking more about mother-daughter family. Not cousins, nieces or sisters.”
“Well, I’m so glad you’re clarifying that.”
My mother lifted her nose to the air. “Is that lasagna?”
“It’s a baked pasta dish,” Roger said.
“It smells wonderful.”
Roger’s shoulders sagged. “Would you like some?”
“I thought you’d never ask.” My mother made her way to the kitchen and sat at one of the bar stools along the counter. “You wouldn’t happen to have any wine, would you?”
While Mom tucked into her pasta, there was another rap at the door. Roger went to check who it was, and a moment later Tom followed him inside.
“Fiona! What are you doing here?” he asked as he pulled out a stool and sat next to my mother. “You just busted out of the house … Wait? Is that pasta?”
Roger slid a plate in front of Tom, and he in turn began eating. Between mouthfuls, he continued. “Fiona, why did you run off like that?”
“Because I’m sick and tired of my sister and niece,” Mom replied. “Especially Plenty!”
“I understand that, my little cactus flower, but they’re your family. You can’t just bail on them.”
“Neither should Poppy.”
“Fiona,” Roger began, “I told Poppy I had plans for us. She had no idea what was going on. I selfishly wanted a night for us to have to ourselves, so I was purposely vague.”
“Your timing is bad,” Mom sniffed.
“I thought it was perfect,” I said. “Until you stormed in, anyways.” I turned to Tom. “How did you know where to look for Mom?”
“When she asked where Roger lived, and then disappeared, I had my suspicions.”
“So now that the two of you have left Lindy and Plenty,” Roger said, “what are they up to?”
Plenty of Trouble Page 18