by B. E. Baker
His lips press lightly at first, and then pull back. My ragged breathing fills the room for one beat, and then another, but before I open my eyes, his mouth covers mine again, this time harder, more insistent. When I bring my left arm up to his right shoulder and pull him closer, he moans against my lips.
Something inside my chest tingles, and when his arms wrap around my waist and pull me closer still, I reach both hands up to his face. It's been a long time since I kissed anyone. So long that I forgot how much I missed it.
Luke knows exactly what he's doing, kissing me lightly, and then pulling back enough that I whimper before pressing his advantage. His hand skims the bare skin between my shirt and my pants, and I melt inside. I place his hand on the bottom of my shirt, ready for more.
Until Luke stiffens. I don't know why until some of the fog clears out of my brain and I realize his phone is playing “The Eye of the Tiger.” His strong hands shift me upright, and reach into his pocket. He fishes it out and says, “Yes?”
Why wouldn't he ignore his phone? I doubt I'd have noticed if an entire First Baptist Choir started singing carols on my front porch.
“No, the doctor said he only needed that the first day. He's fine to have crackers if he wants, and Seven-up, too. But he's probably okay to have spaghetti or cereal at this point. He hasn't thrown up in more than twenty-four hours.”
His kids. Of course, but what a buzzkill. My head clears quickly and I scoot back over to the far side of the sofa. I skip Gilmore Girls episode two back to the beginning, and then pause it.
Luke hangs up his phone. “Sorry about that. My cousin wasn't completely clear on what to do with Chase.”
“Oh, it's fine. I totally understand,” I lie. I know nothing about puking kids, thank goodness. He's a good dad, which is great for the world. It's just not great for me.
“Why'd you run off?” He smiles at me and pats the sofa cushion.
“I'm kind of tired. Maybe we ought to call it a night. Plus, it sounds like Chase needs you.”
Luke grins even wider, and scoots closer to me. “You're jealous.”
“That's ridiculous.”
He smiles so big there's a little gap on either side of his teeth. “You're jealous of my kids.”
I smash myself as far back against the armrest as I can. “I'm not. That would be idiotic.”
“You are.”
“Are you calling me dumb?”
He snorts and shakes his head. “Not at all. But I saw your face, and I may be pretty rusty, but I recognize that look.”
I roll my eyes, and when he scoots toward me again, I stand up. “I'm not jealous, but I am a pragmatist. I meant to tell you this Monday.” I take a big breath in and let it out. “This isn't going to work.”
Luke tilts his head. “For something that doesn't work, that kiss felt pretty good to me.”
I shake my head vehemently. “No, what I mean is, you've got kids and I can't deal with that. Also, you're moving.”
“I am moving. Soon.”
I nod. “Right. As I said, this whole thing,” I gesture from him to myself and back again, “is doomed. You'll just have to wait to look for a booty call until you've gotten to Kentucky.”
Luke rocks back on the sofa, eyes wide. “That's not at all what this is. Is that what it feels like to you? I was hoping you'd come to my daughter's Christmas pageant, for heaven's sake. If that's what you do with someone you're only using then. . .”
“No, no, that's not what I mean. Look, all I'm saying is.” I sit on the sofa. Everything's a jumble in my head. Foster's getting married to someone who wants kids. I'm getting a promotion I don't want since I said I'd take it, but it's not like that's going to help me, since I have to dump out my retirement for sweet little Troy. I'm going to have to work forever.
Then it hits me, and I'm embarrassed I didn't think of this before. I'm a CPA for heaven's sake. But it's been a long week, and I've had a lot on my mind. I can take it out as a rollover. Use that money, and as long as the same amount goes into another retirement fund within thirty days, I won't owe penalties. I beam.
“Now you're super happy? I'm a little confused right now.”
I perch on the edge of the sofa, a foot away from Luke. I want him to take my hand in his. I want him to pull me close and kiss me until I forget my own name again. But that's not going to help, and it'll make things way worse tomorrow. “What I meant was, you're moving, and I'm not. It'll only hurt you and your kids and me if we keep seeing each other. So this needs to be goodbye.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “You used me for a closet repair, didn't you? This happens to me all the time.”
“I'm serious.” I swat his forearm, and he grabs my hand. Electricity zings up my arm and I shiver. I yank my hand back.
“So am I. I don't know what we're doing, and I know you don't want to marry me, okay? I'm okay with that, because I'm leaving soon.”
“Then we're on the same page.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “We aren't. Because you're trying to break up with me every twenty minutes, and I'm thinking about you, every day, from the moment I wake up until the minute I go to sleep. I don't even comprehend how you want to pretend we never met. I can't do that. I'd rather eat a donut while I live across from the bakery than pretend it doesn't exist because I'm moving.”
I pull my hand free of his big, callused, manly hand, and fold my arms. “I'm tired of being baked goods or ice cream. And we're at an impasse, because I can't date you. It'll hurt too much. Sticking with your analogy, I don't want to deal with the miserable, gut wrenching diet later.”
Luke runs his hand through his hair. “Fine. We won't date. But Amy's been badgering me to invite you over. I know you don't want to be a stand-in-mom, but would you at least come to dinner tomorrow?”
This is exactly what's wrong with kids. You give them an inch and they ask for more, more, more. It's never enough because kids need everything. And I can't give them everything, so it's better if I give them nothing at all.
I need to tell Luke that I won't go to dinner. I won't further complicate this mess we've made. I won't become more embroiled in his life. I don't have the time or the energy, which is why my house is falling apart and everything is such an embarrassing mess. That's what I need to say. It seems sort of harsh, so I try a more tactful method.
“I'm shopping for Christmas presents,” I say, “for my own family and friends, and for my assigned family tomorrow. I'm not sure how long it will take.”
Luke tosses his hands in the air, and grins. “Perfect. We were doing the same thing. We could shop together, and then go back to my place and I'll grill.”
He's like gum on my shoe. Really hot, really sexy gum that I don't actually want to scrape off even though I know that I should.
“Oh fine.” I give in, but I hold up one finger and wave it in his face. “But it's not a date!” And after this, I'm definitely phasing them out. It'll be easy to do, because with my new job, Troy's medical stuff and Sub-for-Santa, it's about to get super crazy.
Chapter 13
My hands shake when I reach up to knock on the door to the trailer where Luke and his two kids live, and not because it's cold. The light snowfall brought a smile to my face this morning. I love the snow, and my coat is plenty warm. My hands are shaking because I should have canceled. I shouldn't be spending any more time with Luke or his daughter, Amy.
I breathe in and out slowly and lift my fist again, but before I can knock, the door opens.
My mouth drops.
Amy grins up at me, her thick, russet hair plaited in pristine braids, not a single fuzzy spot or hair out of place. “Hey Mary! I saw you through the window and I've been waiting for you to knock, but you never did. I got tired of waiting.”
I glance behind Amy to where her dad's standing with a bemused expression on his classically handsome face. “She was probably answering a text or something, honey. It's not polite to tell people you were staring at them or that you thought th
ey were moving slowly.”
Amy frowns. “She had to know I saw her, or why'd I open the door, Dad?”
He shakes his head. “Come on in, Mary. If we can ever find Chase's shoe, we'll be ready to go. Recovery from lunch took a little longer than I thought, since Chase dumped his entire bowl of SpaghettiOs on the floor.”
“It was an accident,” a voice I presume belongs to Chase whines from the other room.
Luke rolls his eyes heavenward and ducks back behind me into the door he called his bedroom last time. My pulse picks up a little thinking about what his bedroom looks like. His bed. I shake my head to clear my thoughts.
“Where did you see it last?” I ask Amy.
She puts one hand on her hip and tilts her head just like her dad does. “If we remembered that, I wouldn't be looking.”
I smirk. “Well, where have you looked?”
“Why don't you come with me,” Amy says. “You can help me check my room.”
“You have your own room?” I follow her through the living room and out a door, into a small room with bunk beds built into the wall.
She scrunches her nose. “Ever since he got out of a crib, me and Chase have to share.”
I laugh. “It does make sense. Your dad probably wants his space.”
She sighs like a teenager. “What about me? I want my own space, and now I have to share these tiny drawers with him.”
She points at the five drawers directly across from the bunk beds.
“They don't look so tiny to me.” I crouch down and look under the bunk bed. No shoe immediately obvious, but a blue rabbit, a green Christmas stocking and a red fire truck sort of block my line of vision. I pull them out and notice a red Stride Rite sneaker jammed into the back corner. I flatten down and shimmy toward the back, my coat rubbing against the bed frame. All the shimmying and whatnot has left me sweating in my coat. I should've taken it off.
I shove one more inch, and finally my fingers close over the shoe. I inchworm back out and straighten up to my knees, holding it aloft triumphantly.
Amy's mouth forms a little “o”, and she and I walk out into the family room.
“I think I found it,” I say loudly, and maybe a little too proudly.
Luke clears his throat, and I notice he's sitting on the floor near the front door, shoving a little boy's foot into a scuffed brown shoe. “We just found it. But hey, you did find a shoe.”
I glance from the small red shoe in my hand to the brown one being shoved on Chase's foot. The one I found is obviously far too small.
Chase, shoes on both feet, leaps up and grins at me. One second later, he chucks a small, blue, rubber ball and it beans me in the nose.
“Catch,” he belatedly says.
Stars burst across my field of vision and I bring my hand up to my nose. No blood drips from it, so that's something.
“Chase, no! We don't throw balls at anyone, much less a guest.” Luke runs across to where I'm standing and touches my hand. “Are you alright?”
I nod, feeling silly for keeping my hand over my face, but it still smarts. “It's fine. It startled me, is all.” I force my hand down to my side, but my right eye waters so badly that I have to reach back up and wipe the tears away.
“You're crying,” Amy yells. “Chase you need to apologize.”
Chase's chubby cheeked face falls, and he turns toward the corner of the room and starts to cry himself.
Amy yells at Chase, which makes him cry more.
Instead of screaming, Luke laughs. He crouches down by Amy. “That's not helping, sweetheart. Please stop screaming at him.”
Amy balls her hands into fists and stomps her foot, but she stops hollering.
“Chase, come see Dad. I know you're embarrassed now, but little men always say sorry when they've done something wrong. My friend Miss Mary came to go shopping with us, and she's not going to stay if we're rude and throw balls at her face.”
Chase shakes his head, but won't leave the corner.
Luke whispers to me, “I'm sorry. I know this is annoying, but I can't let it go. That's how kids end up spoiled and not listening. He'll come around in a minute and once he apologizes, we can go. It'll be fine.”
I've been around Troy enough to know he's embarrassed. Trudy insists on Troy apologizing before we can move on, too.
I walk over to where Chase is facing the corner and crouch down. “Hi, Chase. My name is Mary. I'm not upset about the ball. I have a nephew who's close to your age, and he loves balls, too. I'm usually faster at blocking them.”
He angles his head a bit. “Your nephew throws balls a lot? In the house?”
Chase's dark, dark hair and almost black brows frame eyes that are practically golden. He must take after his mother. “How old are you, Chase?”
He turns back toward the wall, and I can barely hear his mumbled words. “Four.”
“My nephew is named Troy, and he's only three for two more months, so he's not as wise and well behaved as you. His mother's always telling him not to throw balls, but sometimes he forgets.”
Chase nods. “Me too.”
“I forget things, sometimes.”
He turns around and peers into my face. “You do? Like what?”
I shrug. “I have a lot of things to do at work. A lot of numbers to look at, and a lot of forms to fill out. Sometimes I forget one. In fact, during tax season, I have another person whose entire job it is to go behind me checking what I do to make sure I don't forget things.”
Chase's eyes widen. “Is it your mom?”
I shake my head. “No, actually, I haven't seen my mother in more than twenty years.”
Chase's mouth drops open. “Why not?”
I realize his mother died around the time he was born and wish I could bite my own tongue off. “My mom didn't like being a mom,” I say awkwardly. “It made her really sad, and after a while, she left our family.”
He nods his head. “My mom didn't want to leave, but she had to go back to heaven. God needed her.”
My heart cracks a little bit. “I'm sorry to hear that, and I'm sure she misses you a lot.”
“I'm sorry your mom left on purpose.”
No one has said anything like that to me, maybe ever. My eyes well with tears and I blink them back before I scare this tiny human. “Me too, buddy. But it was a long time ago, and I'm okay now.”
He reaches out a hand and puts it on my shoulder. “Are you sure?”
I nod my head. “I'm sure.”
“I'm sorry I hit you in the face with my ball,” Chase says. “You're pretty nice.”
I force my mouth into a smile. “That was a very nice apology.” I stand up. “I bet your dad will let us go to the store now. Are you excited to do some shopping?”
Chase shrugs. “Not really. Dad says we're not buying anything for me, not even the dollar stuff.”
I glance at Luke and he nods. “We have very limited space, and we already have everything we need, right?”
Amy smirks. “Not everything.”
Luke bundles Chase and Amy into coats, and I can't help myself. “What is it you don't have, Amy?”
“Not this again.” Luke rolls his eyes heavenward.
“A puppy,” Amy says. “We don't even have a single pet. Not even a boring old fish. Dad says the water would slosh too much when we move. But a dog wouldn't slosh at all.”
Luke's voice sounds weary when he says, “You can't have a dog—”
“In a trailer.” Amy stomps her foot. “Dad, I know. You've only said that a gazillion times.” Amy pulls a pair of mittens out of her pocket, and I notice one is blue, and the other is green. “But we could have a cat, maybe. No one would hardly even notice a cat.”
Luke picks up Chase and opens the door. “Maybe one day, okay? When you're older, and you can take care of it, but not yet.”
Amy trudges out to her dad's truck and waits patiently while he buckles Chase into a booster seat. Once Chase is buckled in, she scrambles into the truck and cli
mbs into her booster, buckling herself in.
“You're still in a five point harness?” I ask.
She rolls her eyes. “Don't ask. Dad's a little bit paranoid.”
I turn toward Luke and widen my eyes. “Paranoid, huh?”
He shrugs. “She's like a sponge. Don't even get me started on the technical electrical words she uses. I swear, if I could take her on a job with me, I could let about half my guys go.”
I climb into the passenger side and buckle myself. “When I grow up, I'm going to work with my dad. He already said he'll hire me.”
I nod. “It's great you know what you want to do. I had no idea at your age. I thought I would be a famous ballerina.”
Amy's eyes widen. “Can you dance?”
I shake my head. “Not even a little bit. I couldn't even do the Macarena.”
“The whadda?”
I laugh. “It's an old song that you wouldn't know. I'm so bad they'd have laughed me off the stage if I ever auditioned.”
Luke clucks. “I doubt that.” He turns the truck on, and then reaches over and takes my gloved hand in his before pulling out onto the main road. My heart flip flops and I close my eyes. I've always loved the holidays more than the rest of the year combined, but between a new job that I don't want starting in January, and Luke leaving, this New Years is gonna suck.
We've driven half a mile from the RV Park when Chase says, “We've been in the truck forever. How far are we going?”
Luke chortles. “Target. It's another mile and a half away. Think you'll possibly survive that long?”
Chase whines. “I don't know ke-cause I'm starving.”
Luke smiles. “Because. And how can you be hungry? You ate lunch an hour ago.”
I've been around Troy enough to know that it doesn't matter how recently Chase ate, not to a kid. In fact, once Troy started complaining of hunger as we were driving away from the IHOP parking lot.
I'm pretty proud of myself when I pull two bags of Froot Loops out of my purse. “If it's okay with your dad, I brought you guys some snacks.”