Public Displays of Affection

  “No kidding?”

  “You’re the most exciting thing to happen to us Minton ladies in a long while.”

  “O… kay.”

  Charlotte laughed a little. “Just don’t kick the woman when she’s down. That’s my only advice.”

  She put the spinach in a colander. “The rest of the kids will start arriving soon. I need to get everything ready.”

  “I’ll get out of your hair, then.” Joe pushed off from the counter and moved toward her. As she watched him advance, she couldn’t stop marveling at the fact that he was really in her house. His feet were on her floor. His hand was trailing along her countertop. He was breathing the air she breathed. He was real, and the rooms seemed to shrink in the presence of all that male energy.

  It had been a long time since any man other than Ned was in her house. A long, long time.

  “Unless you’d like me to help,” he added, now standing just inches from her. “I’m not doing anything today.”

  Charlotte looked up into his face and remembered how the heat of the Miata door had radiated through her hiking shorts and into the flesh of her bottom. She recalled the press of his loins against her belly. She heard the words he used to tease her, tempt her, take her where she longed to go.

  “It’s yours if you want it.”

  “You’re not writing today?”

  Joe shrugged. “Not particularly inspired. At least not to write.”

  There was no mistaking the intensity of what was happening here. There would be no more fooling herself that she could devour just one heavenly piece of juicy Joe Mills and be satisfied. They were looking at all or nothing now, and she knew it.

  Charlotte’s gaze wandered out the window to her kids, slowly making their way up to the house. She did what any prudent mother would do.

  “I won’t have any time to spend with you today. I’m going to be busy.” She hoped her voice sounded calm and assertive. She hoped her knees were not visibly shaking.

  Joe nodded. “You certainly are a busy little beaver.”

  Charlotte didn’t appreciate the double entendre…. At least she didn’t think she did. But if she didn’t, why was she tingling between her legs? Why did she start to laugh?

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “It means—” Joe reached for her hand and brushed his thumb across her lifeline. “You’re an extremely busy lady. You do everything in the world for your kids. You run around like a headless chicken every day.”

  Charlotte felt her spine stiffen and her jaw tighten. Was he criticizing her? “My children are the most important thing in my life.”

  Joe widened the sweep of his thumb to include the delicate inside of her wrist. Her whole body tingled from the contact. “I really admire that about you.”

  “You do?”

  “I do.”

  “You really want to help out today?”

  “I really do.” Joe’s smile and expression mellowed. “Please let me, Charlotte.”

  That’s when the kids and Hoover burst through the door and Joe dropped her hand and said, “Looks like it’s showtime.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  LoriSue charged in the front door of her house, knowing exactly where she’d find her husband. And sure enough, there he was, hoisting himself off the family room sofa, a chip bag falling to the carpet.

  “Basement time again,” he mumbled. “Have a nice day, LoriSue.”

  “Wait just a second, Jimmy. We need to talk.”

  On the thirty-second drive from Charlotte’s house, she’d made some decisions. Things were going to change for LoriSue Bettmyer, and they were going to change now.

  “What is it, O eventually-to-be-ex-wife?” Jimmy shuffled past her to the basement door off the kitchen, clutching his chip bag.

  “Would you please tell me what is so damn appealing about Charlotte Tasker?”

  Jimmy guffawed. “For God’s sake, LoriSue! Not this again!”

  “I’m totally serious, Jimmy. Tell me.” He turned toward her and got a panicked look on his face. “I’ve never been with Charlotte Tasker.”

  It was LoriSue’s turn to laugh. “Only because she won’t have you. But that’s not what I asked. I asked you what’s so attractive about her.”

  Jimmy crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the basement doorjamb, frowning. “You want to know if I find her attractive?”

  She nearly howled this time. “God, Jimmy! I’ve watched you drool over that woman for over a decade! What I want to know is why? What is it about her that draws men like flies to shit?”

  “Ah,” Jimmy said with a smirk. “This is about Joe Mills, isn’t it?”

  She stiffened. “What?”

  “Come on, LoriSue. I saw the way your eyes lit up when that Rambo wannabe showed up at the snack bar. The way you poured on the charm.”

  “Stop it, Jimmy.”

  “I saw the way you reacted when he put the moves on Charlotte and went to sit with her in the stands.”

  “Oh? And I saw the way you reacted, too, Jimmy.” She took a step closer to him. “It must really suck to see Joe just waltz right into town and take what you’ve wanted nearly a third of your life.”

  A nasty smile creept across Jimmy’s face. “Okay, LoriSue. You wanna know what’s so hot about Charlotte Tasker?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “She’s every man’s fantasy, that’s all.” The quiet reverence in her husband’s voice didn’t escape her. “She looks totally wholesome on the outside, but I can smell it. I can tell that deep down, with the right man, she’d be insatiable. And that’s what is so hot about Charlotte Tasker. Any man would tell you the same thing.”

  LoriSue felt her mouth fall open. “That little mouse?”

  “See, there you go, LoriSue. You see a mouse. I see an untapped nympho.”

  Her head spun. Maybe she’d gone about this backward. Maybe subtlety was the key. She hated to have to ask Jimmy this, but he did know her better than anyone. Sixteen years of marriage will do that to two people, for better or worse. “So I come on too strong? Is that what you’re saying?”

  Jimmy rose from the doorjamb and his eyes got big. “You’re asking for my opinion about your sense of style?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “And you want the truth?” She scowled at him. “Yes, I do.”

  “Well, yeah. Maybe you do come on too strong.” She tossed her head and jutted out her chin. “I thought you liked my look.”

  “I… uh…”

  LoriSue let out a big sigh of impatience. “Jesus, Jimmy. We’re getting a divorce—and I’ve decided to let you have this house, by the way, so I can get on with my life—so just answer my question.”

  “I get the house?”

  “I made an offer on that end-unit condo just listed over at The Lakes. I think they’re going to take it and we’ll be moving as soon as possible. Now, just do me do me a huge freakin’ favor and tell me what you think of my look. I won’t get mad.”

  Jimmy’s face burned with suppressed glee. “I really get the house?”

  “This place only reminds me of what a disaster our marriage has been. I want a fresh start for myself and for Justin.”

  “We haven’t resolved the custody issue.”

  “I realize that.”

  “I want joint custody.”

  “We’ll reach a mutually agreeable arrangement.”

  “And we haven’t figured out how to divide ownership of the agency.”

  “We will. Just answer my question. Do you, or do you not, like my look?”

  “I’ve never liked your dye job.”

  “What?” The exclamation came out so forcefully that LoriSue hurt her own ears. “You always told me you liked me as a blonde, you son of a bitch.”

  Jimmy shrugged. “I told you that because you seemed to like yourself as a blonde. I never really did.”

  “Well, I’ll be damned.”

  “And your suits are about a size too small. It
makes you look cheap.”

  LoriSue widened her stance. Put her hands on her hips. If she’d been wearing a gun holster, this was where she’d pull out her six-shooters.

  She gave him a nasty little smile of her own. “You’ve let yourself go to pot, Jimmy. I fell in love with a fit and athletic man. Now you just sit in your recliner in the basement and eat chips and salsa and watch other men be fit and athletic on TV.”

  “I don’t like your fake fingernails.”

  “I don’t like the way you’ve tried to make it your personal vision quest to screw every woman in Minton.”

  “I wouldn’t have been looking elsewhere if I’d gotten what I needed at home.”

  “Ha!” LoriSue leaned in and went nose-to-nose with him. She felt invigorated by this exchange. They were breaking new ground today, getting right to the point, and it felt wonderful. Hell. It felt empowering.

  “You didn’t even know what you had at home, you fool. You didn’t deserve me.”

  Jimmy’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You’re exactly the opposite of Charlotte.” He backed into the doorway to put some room between them and shook his head. “See, your outside says ‘hot,’ but I know better, LoriSue. You’re an ice-cold bitch inside, and you always have been.”

  She didn’t want to cry. She never cried. But that hurt. It was so unfair, and so inaccurate. And she felt so sad that her husband of so long knew so little about her.

  “Look, LoriSue. We really need to get this divorce over with. I need to live aboveground again. I think I’m getting rickets from lack of sunlight.”

  Her hand trembled as she wiped her cheek, smearing her black eyeliner. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer, Ricket Boy,” she said.

  Jimmy apparently understood that was his cue to return to the basement. About halfway down the steps he turned and said, “I did always like the boob job, though.”

  Joe had no idea that entertaining kids was so exhausting. As if he didn’t admire her enough, he held Charlotte in even higher esteem after several hours on the job.

  There were a total of seven of them—six fifth-grade boys and Hank, clearly the odd man out. The little girl fascinated him, not just because of her athletic prowess and blunt commentary, but because of how affectionate she was.

  More than once that day, Joe felt a small stab in his chest he recognized as sadness for the girl. Hank obviously missed her father. He could tell by the way she followed him around and chattered nonstop, then hung on any response he might have.

  It was a little embarrassing and he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. He didn’t want to get her hopes up, but he didn’t want to hurt the kid’s feelings by being too brusque. He decided he’d be friendly and hope for the best.

  The truth was that the world of children was an alien land to Joe. He had no nieces or nephews, and Daniel Simmons was the only kid he ever really had much contact with, and Daniel had been downright reserved in comparison to the in-your-face Hank and the gleefully cynical Matt.

  At the moment, the group was involved in a chaotic game of pickle in the backyard, Charlotte and he manning the makeshift bases, tossing the baseball back and forth as the kids took turns trying not to get tagged out. When kids got caught in a pickle, they would invariably laugh so hard that they’d fall down in the grass, grab their bellies, and roll around as the tears trickled down their faces. Joe figured the hilarity must be contagious, because he’d been laughing right along with them.

  He and Charlotte were a good team, and there had been many times when he’d catch her eye and know intuitively what her strategy was, whether the next motion of her arm would be a fake-out. He wished the game would go on forever. It gave him an excuse to have constant eye contact with her, in a way he hoped she found nonthreatening. It gave him an excuse to join her in every smile, every burst of laughter.

  It was another way they could communicate without words. Kind of like sex, but not near as much fun.

  And Joe found himself wondering if this was what Steve once had. If so, he could see why his partner had been happy—for as long as it lasted, anyway.

  “Soup’s on, campers!”

  The boys ran hard for the back patio, where Ned and Bonnie had been setting two tables for the crowd, but Hank stayed behind. As Charlotte gathered up the old seat cushions that had served as bases, the little girl sidled up to Joe.

  She grabbed his right hand and squeezed it hard.

  Joe froze. He had no earthly idea what to do. So he just stood still until Hank started tugging and led him up the slope of the lawn.

  “I like you, Joe,” she said.

  “I like you too, champ.”

  “Infinity much.”

  “Uh, thanks.”

  Charlotte arrived at his other side and offered to take the baseball mitt still stuck on his left hand. “I’ll go put this stuff away in the shed and meet you in a minute.”

  Joe relinquished the mitt and walked hand-in-hand with Hank.

  “That was my dad’s glove,” she said.

  “I kind of figured that.”

  “You don’t play much ball, do you?”

  He laughed. It was true that his arm was a bit rusty. “I managed to throw you out a few times, as I recall.”

  She offered him that patchwork grin, and he noticed for the first time how strange her newer teeth looked this close up, all corrugated at the edges. He didn’t know if that was normal. He suddenly couldn’t remember why the hell he thought it was a good idea to hang out with the Taskers.

  Then he saw Charlotte glance over her shoulder and smile as she walked to the shed, and it all came back to him. He squeezed Hank’s hand in response.

  The actual dinner struck Joe as a combination of theater of the absurd and a three-ring circus. The six boys were relegated to a picnic table under a tree while the adults and Hank sat at the wrought-iron patio table.

  Joe was amused by the boys’ conversation, which centered on bodily functions, how much they hated females, and which boy could perform any number of physical feats better than the others present. It reminded him of a typical staff meeting at the Albuquerque field office.

  At their table, Charlotte regaled them with the healh hazards of trans-fatty acids found in commercial baked goods and the bovine growth hormones found in meat and dairy products.

  Ned patted his round belly and said, “A little bovine growth hormone never hurt anyone. Look what it’s done for me!”

  In the half hour it took to eat, Bonnie, Ned, and Charlotte got up and down from their own meals a dozen times to replenish plates and do everything from clean up spilled juice to put baking soda on a bee sting.

  Hank never budged from his side. At one point she refilled his iced tea and looked up at him with huge blue eyes full of adoration.

  She pulled on his shirtsleeve. “Wanna come to my ballet recital in two weeks? I get to wear a tutu and everything.”

  Joe felt his eyes widen. “Hey, sure. I’d like that.”

  “Ever had that hummus stuff?” Hank said it in a whisper, nodding toward the barely touched dip at the center of the table.

  “Mighty tasty.” Joe scooped a wedge of toasted pita bread into the beige substance and took a big bite. “I think my mom made something like this when I was growing up.”

  Hank’s mouth hung open. “For real?” She reached for a triangle of pita and held it over the bowl, a dubious expression on her face. “You didn’t puke or anything?”

  Joe laughed. “Not once.”

  After a moment spent steeling herself, Hank scooped the bread through the air and popped it into her mouth, plain. “I’d have puked, for sure,” she mumbled, then once more bared those weird-looking kid teeth in that big smile of hers.

  Then she said, “Wanna see my tutu?”

  After the campfire tale spun by Ned and Joe, it took Charlotte nearly an hour to get the boys settled down. Everyone agreed it was a real treat to have a professional storyteller like Joe contributing to scary-story time, but Charlotte wa
s relieved that in the end Sasquatch only wanted to eat s’mores and not little boys.

  Otherwise, she’d never get them to go to sleep.

  Ned and Bonnie had just headed home. And Joe was drinking his iced tea on the patio keeping an eye on the tent while Charlotte put Hank to bed.

  She tucked the sheet around Hank’s body and kissed her sweaty forehead.

  “I had fun tonight, Mama.”

  “Me, too.”

  “Can Joe come up and tuck me in next?”

  She tried not to react too much to that question, though it concerned her. “I’ll just tell him you said good night.”

  “I already said good night to him. Three times. He hugged me. He gives real good hugs.”

  “That was nice of him.”

  “I think he was stable tonight, Mama, don’t you?”

  Charlotte smiled down at her little matchmaker, her heart breaking. She’d seen Hank stare at Joe today, seeking out his attention whenever she could, sitting next to him, holding his hand. And Joe had been kind. But Charlotte knew that she needed to nip this puppy love in the bud. For Hank’s sake.

  “You know, sweetie, Joe probably won’t live in Minton forever. He’ll move one day.”

  Hank shook her head, her curls tumbling on the pillowcase. “Nope, Mama. I think he’s gonna stay. He likes it here.”

  “Hank.” Charlotte heard her voice grow stern. “I don’t want you to grow attached to Mr. Mills. Do you understand?”

  Hank shook her head with conviction. “Joe likes us. He’s going to stay forever. Matt agrees with me.”

  Charlotte frowned—why had she let Joe hang around tonight? The last thing in the world she wanted was to expose her children to more disappointment.

  “We talked about it during the pickle game, Mama. Joe likes us. He likes you—a real lot.”

  “Sweetie, I need to explain something to you.” Charlotte smoothed her daughter’s curls from her forehead and leaned close, bracing herself on either side of Hank’s shoulders. “Remember that night you said that I was going to start loving Mr. Mills? Please don’t let that worry you, all right? I don’t have plans to love anybody but you and Matt.”