Everything I learned about him intrigued me more. He was an enigma.
I could tell that talking about his brother had upset him, so hesitatingly, I laid my hand on his arm. He looked up at me and this time he didn’t look away. It was just a moment, but it felt as if something important had passed between us. Something like friendship, maybe more.
“You’re talking,” I said with a sudden smile of realization as my hand fell back to my lap. “But you’ve always been able to talk to Katie.”
“Yes. Stan, Katie . . . and now you . . .”
My smile faded as his expression became serious, and he leaned in toward me.
“I . . . I . . .”
Then my darn phone rang and I huffed in frustration, apologizing as I got up to take the call.
Did I imagine that? Had he been about to kiss me?
For once, I was actually grateful that a sales call had interrupted me. I needed to regroup. I couldn’t let myself get carried away. Could I?
I poured a glass of water from the tap and took a long, cooling drink.
Katie was still chattering away to Stan, making me smile. But then I heard what she was saying and my attempt to relax and calm down came to a shuddering halt.
“If Mom and Alex get married, you can come and live with me,” Katie was saying as Stan listened, his head cocked to one side. “And then they can have a baby and I’d have a little sister like my friend Marie at school. But I don’t want a brother. Boys are a pain.”
Emotions burned through me, a wildfire of sensations: embarrassment that Alex had heard her and might suspect my motives; but also loss. Katie’s loss, my loss—the family we’d never had. The father she saw infrequently and paid her scant attention when he was there—a man who never put her first. The sister who’d given me up for reasons too painful to explain. And now Katie was weaving Alex into that tangled and knotted tapestry.
Why had she chosen him? What in her child’s psyche told her that he was father material?
I reminded myself that I knew nothing about him. Nothing. For all I knew he could have a family already, maybe children of his own that he never saw. I’d made too many assumptions about him that had been wrong before. I needed to be wiser—or at least less trusting than my daughter.
Alex stepped down from the deck and Katie paused in her rambling, one-sided conversation. She wasn’t the least embarrassed about what he must have overheard.
I watched for a moment, my heart beating too fast, as Katie showed Alex how to make a daisy chain. He listened to her carefully, nodded at her instructions, then patiently wove a long chain of tiny flowers that Katie hung around Stan’s neck.
She clapped her hands in delight, although Stan’s mournful expression was less enthusiastic.
It was a small, perfect moment.
“You really are multitalented, Alex,” I teased, walking back outside. “From changing car tires to making daisy chains.”
“I had to show him how to do it, Mom,” Katie said, putting her hands on her hips.
He grinned up at me sheepishly, faint lines radiating from his eyes. I wondered again how old he was. Freshly shaved, he could have been anything from late twenties. Surely, he was at least mid-thirties. I hoped he wasn’t younger than me. I’d heard Stella described as a cougar by more than one of my acquaintances in town. I didn’t feel like carrying the same brand.
“Lunch is ready,” I announced, smiling broadly. “Vegetable lasagna, and I’ve got a small plate of cold chicken and rice for Stan.”
They followed me inside, Stan still wearing his daisy-chain necklace, and Katie led Alex to the sink so he could wash up. I was stunned into silence when she held his hand as she showed him to a seat at our tiny table. It was such an expression of trust, and I’d never seen her do that before. I wished I knew what Alex was thinking.
“Mom, you forgot the drinks,” Katie said sternly as I sat.
“Katie,” I admonished, “I didn’t forget them. I thought it would be polite to ask our guest what he wanted. I’ve got beer, wine, juice or water,” I said to Alex.
“W-water is fine.”
Katie ran in to the kitchen and came back with three plastic cups and a bottle of chilled water.
“Please start.”
Alex was about to take his first mouthful when Katie planted her elbows on the table and fixed him with a penetrating stare.
“Have you got a girlfriend, Alex?”
“Katie!” I snapped.
“But you wanted to know, Mom,” Katie insisted crossly. “You said that you hoped he didn’t have a girlfriend or a boyfriend.”
My mouth dropped open. I had said that, but not to Katie. I’d been talking to Mom when she called last night, and I happened to mention to her that a friend was coming for lunch.
Katie continued with the interrogation as I gaped.
“Do you have a boyfriend, Alex?”
I managed to gather my scattered wits.
“That’s enough, Katie!” I said, a clear warning in my voice as Alex shook his head, looking as if he didn’t know whether to laugh or run.
“N-no.”
Did he mean ‘no’ he didn’t have a girlfriend, or ‘no’ he didn’t have a boyfriend? It was so frustrating! Perhaps I should have let Katie continue.
Perhaps not.
I gave Katie another stern look and moved the conversation to easier subjects.
Thank goodness the lasagna had turned out well.
At first, Alex ate quietly, like a well behaved child at his parents’ party, but then he began to open up—just a little.
“This is g-great,” he said, as he ate everything on his plate.
“It’s the first time Mom made it with just vegetables,” Katie said cheerfully. “It’s way better with meat. We have roast chicken or beef every Sunday. Unless I have to go to Dad’s,” and she pulled a face.
Alex seemed surprised. I’d never mentioned Katie’s father to him, and from the look on his face I’d guess that he really hadn’t heard the gossip about the whole wretched affair. In one way I was pleased, but in another . . . well, I’d have to tell him sometime, if whatever this was meant that we . . . us . . .
Whether we became friends—or more—I wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.
After finishing his chicken and rice in three mouthfuls, Stan parked himself between Alex and Katie, fixing his pleading eyes on each of them in turn as they finished their own food.
I’d warned Katie not to feed Stan from her plate, which meant I couldn’t either, and Alex looked torn. Stan’s mournful gaze grew heavier, until he rested his head on Alex’s knee, his eyes following every movement of the fork.
Katie giggled.
“Did Stan do that when he was a puppy?”
“I didn’t know Stan then,” Alex explained quietly. “My brother rescued him two years ago and Stan came to live with me.”
Katie’s eyes grew huge. “Was he an orphan?”
“I guess, but not anymore.”
She stroked Stan’s head and accidentally dropped a piece of pasta onto the deck. I pretended not to see and didn’t say anything. Besides, Stan was too quick and inhaled it before it was taken away from him. I smiled to myself: pretty good moves for an old dog.
“Why don’t you eat meat?” Katie asked. “Bacon is soooo good, especially the way Mom makes it, really crispy.”
“I like animals,” Alex said simply.
Katie squinted at him, as if expecting something more. I think I was, too, because I realized that both of us were staring at him.
“We have apple pie and ice cream for dessert,” I said, quickly changing the subject, and Katie gave a happy squeal, heading for the fridge.
Over pie and ice cream, I talked a little about life in Girard, explaining that I went to school at Penn State University.
We both tried to get Alex to talk about himself, but it was with extreme reluctance that he offered a few facts. He’d grown up in Minnesota and the mid-West, and h
ad studied engineering and architecture at Northwestern. Of course, that left a significant gap between college and now, but I had a past that I didn’t want to talk about either—Katie’s dad, for one.
But the best part of the conversation was that Alex was hardly stuttering at all. I loved that he felt relaxed with us. Honestly? I loved it too much and I wanted to know so much more: what made it worse, what made it better? Had he always stuttered? From the little I knew of it, speech therapy helped some people. I wanted to know if he’d tried it, but I didn’t think I’d earned the right to ask. Not yet.
“So, you moved here from Colorado?” I asked, hoping to learn little a about his life since school.
The ice cream slipped from his spoon as he frowned, then nodded. Silence reigned before he turned the conversation back to me.
“Have you l-lived here all your life?”
“Not yet,” I joked.
Alex laughed, and it was wonderful to hear. But I guess after that maybe we did agree to save more personal questions for another time. I really hoped there’d be another time, another not-date.
After lunch, Katie took Stan for a walk around the garden. Mostly this meant that he would sniff at a shrub, pee on it, and Katie would shriek with laughter. I didn’t mind. Besides, it gave me a chance to talk to Alex alone.
And I had one crucial question to ask him.
He helped me carry everything back into the kitchen, and was midway through stacking the dishwasher when I managed to work up the nerve to ask the question that had been burning on my tongue for the last two hours.
“Alex, I know this is none of my business, but I have to ask—are you seeing my sister?”
He paused and looked up at me, his gaze direct.
“No,” he said firmly. “I’m not.”
A small part of me wanted to cheer, but I hadn’t finished yet.
“Did you . . . date her?” I asked, almost afraid to hear that they’d hooked up after Spen’s party.
“No, we never dated . . . or anything else.”
I bit my lip, frowning. “Because at the barbeque she said . . .”
“I know what she said,” he interrupted, “but it was to get back at her ex-husband. You introduced us, remember? I p-promise you . . .”
What was he promising me? That he had no interest in my sister? That he was here because . . . ?
“Sorry,” I said uneasily, “it’s just that things between me and Stella are . . . complicated. I don’t know if it’s possible for it to get any worse, I just wouldn’t want to risk finding out.”
He sighed and stared into the garden, his eyes following Katie and Stan as they ambled around the backyard.
“Dawn, I haven’t dated anyone in a long while.”
I gazed at him skeptically. “Really? Why?”
He looked away. “Coming here has been . . . a fresh s-start for me.”
“You don’t like to talk about your past.”
“Neither do you,” he said, raising one eyebrow.
I smiled thinly. “True.” Then I sighed. “So where does that leave us? If anywhere . . .”
I was standing at the sink, my arms immersed in hot soapy water, when he closed the dishwasher door and stood behind me, resting his hands lightly on my waist. I jumped slightly, shocked, but very happy with this unexpected turn of events. He seemed so shy, I would never have guessed he could be so . . . so . . .
His hands tightened on my waist and I felt his warm lips brushing the side of my neck as he kissed down to my shoulder. I rolled my head to the side and let out a long breath.
“Thank you for inviting us,” he whispered against my burning skin, his breath cooling and igniting me. “It’s been a good day.”
I turned around so our bodies were pressed close together, my wet hands clasped around his neck.
Staring into my eyes, he leaned down and kissed my lips, searching, seeking.
“Is this okay?” he asked quietly.
“Um, it’s been a while for me, as well,” I said truthfully.
He started to move away, giving me some space, but I held him firmly.
“I didn’t say no,” I reminded him gently.
His arms circled me again as our eyes met, studying each other.
I watched, fascinated, as his irises shifted between several shades of golden-brown. They were a rich honey color when he was happy or laughing, which wasn’t as often as I’d like; almost teak when he was concentrating on something; and a dark mahogany when he was aroused. Like now.
Faint lines radiated from the corners of his eyes; arcs curved into each side of his mouth, not quite dimples. And I could see a smattering of light brown hair where the buttons of his shirt were undone, decorating his firm chest and hard slab of muscle that I remembered so vividly.
Then he leaned down to kiss me again, and this time I kissed him back. As soon as I felt his mouth on mine, I couldn’t stop myself. I kissed him until all I could see were stars bursting behind my tightly closed eyelids.
His lips were soft but firm, gentle yet certain, and when I opened my mouth, he didn’t hesitate, kissing me with passion and determination, filling my mouth with a hungry surge, nothing hesitant or unsure. It was a man’s kiss, a man who knew how to kiss a woman in a way that made her knees weak. I wouldn’t have imagined he’d be so forceful, so assured, taking and giving in equal amounts. I didn’t know what to think, but my body was way ahead of me.
His arms tightened on my waist and his hips pushed me backwards, pinning me to the sink. He was aroused, hard and hot against my body.
“Alex,” I gasped into his mouth, as I tried to push him away.
I was a little embarrassed that I was behaving like a horny teenager on a first date, but mostly I was worried that Katie would walk in on us.
“Alex,” I said again, asking him to meet my eyes as he stared at my heaving chest, “I liked it. Very much, but my daughter is just outside.”
He nodded and took a step away from me, his eyes still heated and intense, an obvious bulge behind his zipper.
“It’s okay,” I said, forcing a smile and resting my hand lightly on his arm. “I just can’t get carried away.”
At which point Stan wandered through the kitchen and into the living room. I heard a soft thud and knew that he was lying on the carpet. Alex grabbed the drying towel to cover up his erection just as Katie waltzed into the kitchen. She stared at us critically.
“Were you guys making out?” she asked, wrinkling her nose.
My eyes went wide and I opened my mouth to deny it, but Alex’s expression said it all.
“You shouldn’t do it in front of me,” Katie said grumpily, “I’m just a kid. I’m not supposed to see stuff like that. It could scar me.”
Alex raised his eyebrows, evidently trying to hold back a smile.
I turned to watch Katie slump down next to Stan who was snoring loudly. She leaned down to whisper something to him, a smile on her face.
This was new territory for me, and I wasn’t sure what to say, not in front of Alex, at least. And the little minx who called herself my daughter, she knew it. She also knew that there’d be special ‘mommy and me’ time later.
But it reminded me—as if I needed it—that dating a man, any man, meant I was inviting him into my daughter’s life as well as my own. And Alex had made it very clear there were things he didn’t want to talk about. I should be wary, but with the memory of his burning lips on mine, I couldn’t find it in myself to be distant or sensible.
Alex was watching Katie and Stan with a small, amused smile on his face. He seemed perfectly relaxed in my living room, content with our company, and easy in himself, which was something I’d rarely seen.
I checked my watch, surprised by how late it was.
“Katie, time for bed, sweetie.”
“Mom!”
“Go on now. Brush your teeth, wash your face, get your pajamas on and jump into bed. I’ll be in shortly.”
Huffing and sighing, she slunk
out of the room, giving me a taste of what teenagerdom would look like.
Alex turned his head and looked at me, still smiling, still relaxed.
“She’s a great kid.”
“I’m glad you think so. I do, too. Most of the time,” I laughed. “When she’s not embarrassing me, that is.”
“I guess it comes with the territory,” he said, sounding almost wistful.
“You never wanted kids?”
The words had just slipped out, and I wanted to stuff them back immediately and rewind the clock. But I couldn’t.
Alex seemed to take the question in his stride, but when I thought about it later, his answer was evasive.
“Being a father is a big responsibility.”
I wasn’t sure what to say to that. Yes, he was right, but not all fathers felt the weight of that responsibility.
“I was surprised when you phoned me,” he said.
I laughed a little, the sound embarrassed.
“Do you mind?”
“No, I’m really pleased you called. Surprised, but pleased. I . . .”
Katie interrupted whatever he was going to say. She was dressed for bed, wearing a pajama set with teddy bears on it.
“Alex, will you read to me? You promised.”
I raised my eyebrows questioningly, but Katie wasn’t looking at me.
“Will you? Please?”
Alex looked surprised but not reluctant. I figured if he didn’t want to do it, he’d find an excuse not to. But I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. If anyone else had said they’d let a man they didn’t know very well in their daughter’s bedroom alone, I’d nominate them for Worst Mom of the Year immediately.
“I’ll tuck you in, and Alex can read to you,” I suggested.
“Okay,” Katie smiled, pleased that she’d gotten her way.
“Just ten minutes,” I warned.
“Mom!” pouted Katie, but didn’t argue further.