Текст книги "Taking Connor"

Автор книги: B. N. Toler

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Текущая страница: 5 (всего у книги 16 страниц)

Me:

The painting is beautiful. Thank you.

A few minutes pass and I check the number to make sure I dialed right. Yes, it’s right. What if he’s not interested anymore?

Vick:

I’ve given out a lot of paintings lately. Who is this?

My stomach knots. Does he always do this kind of thing for women he asks out? Should I even respond to this?

Vick:

I’m just kidding, Demi. I haven’t stopped thinking about the gorgeous woman I stumbled upon in the grocery store, talking to herself.

I cringe as I remember how crazy I must’ve looked.

Me:

You’re hilarious. I fell for it . . . again.

Vick:

I like that about you. ;) So . . . meet me for dinner?

Me:

Yes. I’d like that.

Vick:

Tillie’s, seven o’clock on Wednesday?

Me:

See you then.

Vick:

Have I mentioned I’m really starting to love this place? ;) See you, Wednesday.

I stay in my classroom for a few more hours, organizing and cleaning. Mostly killing time until four when Wendy wants to meet for happy hour. I know times are tough, and she’s super stressed; with five kids I’m sure she’s busting at the seams to get out of the house. As I drive to Tillie’s to meet Wendy, the thought of going out with a man for the first time since Blake passed runs through my mind. While the idea of it is exciting, there’s also guilt. If Blake were still alive, there’d be no Vick, and there’d be no first date. I’d be on my way home right now to cook us dinner.

At a red light, I pull my cell out and dial Lexi.

“Helloooo, darling,” she answers in a British accent.

“I have a date,” I blurt out. I feel like this little fact has been bottled up inside me ready to burst free at any moment. Lexi is probably the worst person to tell, but she is my sister.

“You do?” The astonishment is extremely evident in her voice. She’s shocked.

“Yes. I met him at the grocery store the other day. His name is Vick.”

“Holy shit, Dem,” she says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “You okay?” She knows I’m okay and even though she’s been pushing me to get back out there, she knows this is a huge step for me. I’m touched she at least thought to ask how I’m holding up.

“I’m okay . . . I think,” I answer honestly as I push some of my hair behind my ear. “We’re meeting for dinner Wednesday.”

“I’m coming over to help you get ready,” she volunteers.

“You don’t have to do that, Lex.”

“I’m coming over,” she insists.

“Okay,” I give in.

“Demi’s gonna get laid. Demi’s gonna get laid,” she sings obnoxiously.

“I gotta go. Bye,” I hang up even though she’s still singing.

A date. I’m going on a date. My hands tighten around the steering wheel as I inhale deeply. My mind runs with thoughts of right and wrong, and before I know it, I’m at the cemetery. Days before he became incapacitated, Blake held my hand and gave me the talk. The talk giving me permission to move on.

“One day, Demi . . . another man will come along.” I tried to pull my hand from his, but he squeezed, preventing it. “I want you to be happy . . . to meet someone that can give you the things I couldn’t.”

“You gave me everything, Blake.” Tears broke loose and streamed down my face. This was my dying husband giving me permission to move on and love again. It was brutal. My hand squeezed his tighter as if I could somehow keep him here.

“I didn’t give you children. And I know how badly you want them,” he smiled sadly. “I know you want at least one.”

And I did. But I wanted one of his children. I wanted a piece of him to continue to exist even after he left me. When I told him, he refused. Blake grew up without a father. And he believed every child deserved one, not just the memory of a father that other people shared with them.

“One day, Demi . . . he’ll come along and love you. Don’t be afraid to love him back. He won’t be anything like me . . .”

I stared up at him and wondered if he had some vision of what he thought the next man in my life would be like. And then I sobbed. My poor, dying husband was torturing himself with visions of a man that might take his place.

“Blake . . . please—”

“Shh,” he soothed me. “I love you. I always will.”

Slowly, I walk through the large graveyard, delaying having this conversation with Blake. I don’t know if he’ll hear me, but I feel like I need to let him know. I come here, often, and speak to him. I tell him about work, complain about my mother, crack jokes about Lexi. I’m two rows over when his grave comes into sight. I stop when I realize Connor is standing in front of it, his large hands stuffed in his pockets.

I don’t want to impose on his time, but I feel rude just standing here, staring at him. I debate if I should leave, but when he kneels and puts one hand on Blake’s stone, I can’t stop staring. What is it about this man showing emotion that gut checks me? My goal has been to fulfill Blake’s wishes; to help Connor any way possible. The plan has always been to make Connor feel at home yet keep him at arm’s length at the same time. But with every day that passes, I’m more and more fascinated by him. I can’t deny a physical attraction to him; I mean . . . he’s sex on a stick, as Lexi would say. But there’s more there; so much more. When he stands again, I make my way toward him when I begin to hear him speaking faintly.

“I’m grateful. So fucking grateful, Blake. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you . . . in the end. I’m sorry—”

A lonesome twig snaps under my foot and Connor whips around, his eyes red and swollen; on the verge of crying.

“Demi,” he croaks before clearing his throat, as he turns and wipes his face quickly.

“I’m sorry . . . I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

When he turns back around, he has a smile plastered on his face, but his sad eyes don’t quite match it. “I was just passing by and thought I’d stop,” he explains.

“Same here.”

“Grams said it was a nice funeral,” he notes as he stares at the headstone. He said this to me the day I picked him up in Arizona. I realize there’s a lot of guilt there for him. He wasn’t here to bury his cousin . . . or little brother as he considered Blake and he needed reassurance that Blake had the best; that his wishes were met.

“It was,” I assure him.

“Will you tell me about it? I know that sounds dumb, but . . . I just want to know.”

Moving beside him, I say, “He had a dark mahogany casket. The best we could buy. He argued with me about it, but I put my foot down.”

Connor’s eyes widen. “He helped pick out his own casket?”

“Yes. He wanted to feel in control of his death. And . . . he wanted me to be able to mourn without stressing about all of the details.”

Connor nods as he continues to stare at the headstone. I smile sadly as I stare down with him. “We buried him in his best suit, but no dress shirt under it. He made me promise to put his Avengers T-shirt on him.” We both chuckle.

“He loved his damn comic books.”

“He was buried with a photo of me and one of you and Grams and his favorite comic book. He said he’d need something to read when we were all sleeping, and he wasn’t watching over us.”

“Sounds like him,” Connor snorts. “Always thinking of everyone else.”

“I think he always knew he was going to die young,” I admit. “But the man spent every day trying to make someone else’s day a little better.”

Connor sniffles and wipes at his nose. “You must think I’m a pussy; I’m always crying.”

God, if he knew. Why his sadness is so devastatingly beautiful to me, I’ll never know. It’s like I get to know a secret; see something no one else does. I get to see this tough, tattooed man . . . let go. Feel. And I hate to admit it, but I find it so attractive. It’s not how he looks while he cries, I mean, he’s an exquisite looking man, there’s no denying it, but it’s more about the rawness of it. A beat of awkward silence falls between us, our gazes fixed on Blake’s stone, and staying true to myself, I try to fill it. “Wendy and I are meeting at Tillie’s in a half an hour. You wanna join us?”

Connor turns to me and shrugs. “I think I’m going to head home and work on the bike, but thanks for the invite.” Then he turns his head and looks back at Blake’s grave. “Later, cuz.”

He gives me a quick wave and leaves me with Blake’s stone.

Wendy is waiting for me in a corner booth when I arrive. I’ve known her my entire life and just looking at her as I approach the table, I know something is wrong. Hey eyes look puffy and an empty glass sets next to the beer in her hand. She’s in a drinking mood tonight.

“Hi,” I venture. “You okay?”

She gives me a sad smile. “I am. Just . . . had a bad couple of days.” Her blonde hair is tied up in a ponytail, and she runs her hand over it as she looks away from me, her eyes growing teary.

My brows furrow in concern. Wendy rarely gets emotional, so I know it must be bad. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She blinks a few times, trying to clear the emotion from her eyes. “I hadn’t told anyone,” she begins, “but I was pregnant. I found out a week ago, but I miscarried two days ago.”

I lean forward and take her hand, my heart breaking for her. “I knew something was wrong when I saw you yesterday. I’m so sorry¸ Wendy,” I offer.

“I couldn’t have been more than two months. I know it seems silly that I’m so upset about it when I wasn’t so far along.”

“It’s not silly at all,” I reply, firmly. I hate that women are made to feel like they can’t mourn the loss of a baby they miscarried early on. I’ve never been pregnant, but just the idea of finding out my child was growing inside of me makes my heart swell with love; I can’t imagine how it feels to actually see that positive pregnancy test. “That was your baby, Wendy. You have every right to feel sad and mourn this loss and don’t let anyone make you feel differently.”

She takes a napkin from the dispenser between us and wipes under her eyes. “Thank you, Demi.”

“How’s Jeff taking it?” I query, still holding her hand.

“He’s sad. We’re both sad. But in a way . . . maybe it’s best. We’re having so many problems with Grayson, behavioral wise and with Jeff out of work we have no insurance. Money is so tight right now. It isn’t the right time for a baby.”

I frown. How sad that she has to think of money when she’s just lost her baby. I hate that they’re struggling so much. “I’m happy to give you money, Wendy.”

“No,” she states flatly. “I appreciate it, but no.”

I nod once, deciding not to argue with her. I’ve offered before, and she gave the same adamant answer. So instead, I make an offer I know she can’t refuse. “How about I keep the kids at my house this weekend.”

Her eyes dart to mine, riddled with disbelief. A person offering to watch her five children for a weekend are few and far between. I can’t help chuckling a little, even with the grim news she just shared. “Yes,” I assure her. “You heard me right.”

“You do understand I have five children, don’t you?”

“Are those who all those small people are that are always hanging around you?” I jest, my brows furrowed in mock confusion.

“Five, Demi.” She lifts her hand, all five fingers fanned out. “Five.”

“I was there when each of them was born,” I reply dryly.

“You don’t have to do that, Demi. I don’t want to put that burden on you,” she sighs.

“They’re my godchildren, Wendy. And they’ve spent the night with me before.” This is true. Each of them has stayed with me . . . just not all five at once. But I know I can handle this, and nothing would make me happier than to give her some time to mourn and heal in peace.

She gives me a skeptical look. “Are you sure?”

“Positive,” I confirm, pulling my hand away as the waitress approaches our table. After I order two beers—one for me, one for Wendy—and the waitress scurries off, I add, “Connor will be there to help.”

She smiles. “The kids liked him.” I’m surprised she’s so . . . relaxed about her children being around Connor. She’s only met him twice so it’s not like she knows him well. All she knows is he’s a convicted felon.

“So you trust him?” I ask as the waitress places our pint glasses on the table. I don’t know why I’m asking her. Well, maybe I do. The truth is, my brain keeps telling me to be wary of Connor. His past scares me, somewhat. But the more I’m around him, the more I trust him. But how much of that is this attraction to him that I’m trying to deny I feel? Are hormones getting in the way of my reasoning abilities?

She smirks slightly in thought. “I do. I can’t explain it, but I have a good feeling about him. Besides,” she adds, “Blake wasn’t the kind of man to love anyone who was undeserving. If Blake believed Connor is a good guy, it must be true.”

And there it is. My exact thoughts. And that’s one of the things I love about Wendy. She doesn’t buy labels. Just because Connor was in prison, doesn’t make him a bad person. And even if he was a bad person, people can change, right? I mean, everyone makes mistakes. Granted, hurting another person is a big mistake, but deep down I know there has to be more to the story.

“And I’ll get Lexi to come and help too.”

She’s sipping her beer when she snorts with my words. After she coughs a few times, clearing her throat, in a husky voice she says, “I’m more worried about her influence on my children than I am Connor.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, well I may need her as a reinforcement.”

Wendy nods. “Yes. You will.”

Tuesday seemed to fly by, but Wednesday rolled on, taking its sweet time. My finger taps my steering wheel idly as I drive home to get ready. I have no idea what to wear. I mean, Vick seems like a low-key kind of guy so I’m sure whatever I wear will be fine, but I do want to look nice. I can’t deny I’m excited. A date. I’m going on a date. It’s scary and enthralling all at once. When I get home, I rush inside and hurry upstairs to find Lexi laying outfits out on my bed.

“What are you doing here?”

“Why do you always ask me that every time I show up here?”

“Because you are always showing up here.”

She purses her lips in annoyance. “I said I would come over and help you get ready, asshole.”

I forgot she said she was coming over. I guess I am an asshole because of my greeting, but now I’m not so sure I want her help because we’ll probably argue. “I think I can manage on my own, Lex.”

She walks into my closet and yells, “It’s been a while Demi. You’re out of practice.”

I flop down on my bed and resolve to let her help me since she doesn’t seem to be harboring any hurt feelings about my less than inviting welcome. But glancing at the outfits she’s laid out, I’m worried. Maybe it isn’t a good idea for her to help me. As she walks out of my closet holding a nude, skin-tight dress I wore many years ago, I warn her, “I’m not dressing like a ho tonight, Lexi.”

“What do you have all these cute dresses for if you’re never going to wear them?” she asks as she lays the dress with the others on my bed.

“Because I might wear them one day.”

“And why not today?” she counters.

“Because it’s a first date at a town bar, for starters. Secondly, I’m not trying to give him the idea I want to jump his bones on the first date.”

Her facial features brighten, and she perks up. “So you have thought about jumping his bones at some point then?”

I press my lips together, frustrated with myself for not wording myself better. “No. I mean, he’s attractive, but I haven’t thought about anything beyond having dinner with him.”

Lexi smiles and takes a deep breath. “I know this is a big deal for you. I’m proud of you for trying.”

I know she’s been worried about me. Wendy too. They’ve both feared I’d become the loneliest widow in Gotham City. I just haven’t been ready. But I think I am now. And I think even if things don’t pan out with Vick, at the very least he’ll be a great icebreaker for me.

“Come on,” I murmur, as I head to my closet. “Let’s find me something sexy, but appropriate to wear.”

Lexi and I battled over the definition of sexy. In the end, we met in the middle. I’m wearing a strapless black cotton dress with platform flip flops. She begged me to wear heels, but I refused. Middle ground was the platform on the flip flops.

Tillie’s is busy tonight; the happy hour crew is crowded around the bar, chugging two dollar drafts before seven. I’m standing in the foyer of the restaurant, searching the tables that line both sides, looking for Vick, when someone’s hand presses my lower back.

“I’ve thought about this moment every day since we met. What you’d look like. I have to say, my imagination needs some work.”

My mouth curves up as I twist my neck and find Vick with an appreciative smile on his face. When I turn, he grabs me in for a quick hug, but before he pulls away, he adds, “You smell better than I imagined, too.”

“Can you imagine how someone will smell?” I query as I step back to drink him in. He’s wearing worn tattered jeans and a plain, white cotton T-shirt. He looks amazing. Oh, and he’s wearing flip-flops. I’m so glad I didn’t overdo it with dressing up tonight. I am a bit more dressy than he is, but not awkwardly so.

“Maybe not the scent, but you can imagine the feeling or sensations a scent gives you.”

I nod in agreement and smile. “That was an excellent answer, Mr. Reynolds. Are you trying to seduce me with your charming repartee?”

His mouth quirks on one side, and he shrugs his shoulder. “Well, I don’t have a vast fortune or incredible looks to impress you with, so I’m forced to use the only things I do have. I hope you like smart men with huge penises.”

I suck in air through my teeth before biting my lip, feigning disappointment. “Maybe we should cancel now. I really hate intelligent men.” Then after a beat, I add, “But . . . the huge penis might be your saving grace.”

“I knew this monster would do me proud one day,” he says, with pride, looking down at himself. We both laugh as the hostess approaches and Vick lets her know we need a table for two.

Once we’re seated, our waitress approaches and quickly takes our drink orders. The conversation flows easily. I can’t remember the last time I laughed so much. I quickly learn that Vick is a jokester and has a zest for telling stories that make you laugh.

“So my uncle spends the entire day in these sunglasses and keeps bitching about how bright it is outside. My cousin and I could barely keep ourselves from laughing in front of him, but somehow we managed.”

“So you guys just let him walk around all day wearing sunglasses with no lens? And he never realized it?”

Vick leans back and laughs, and I can’t help but admire his perfectly white teeth. “All damn day. And the funny thing is, no one else said anything either.”

I shake my head as I chuckle. “Your poor uncle. That sounds like something I would do.”

“Eh, he took it well. He’s pretty good about laughing at himself.”

We both smile as a pause of silence falls between us, but when our eyes meet, Vick leans forward, resting both arms on the table as he looks at me.

“I like you, Demi Stevens.”

My cheeks heat as I fight the grin trying to break out across my face. “You’re not so bad yourself Vick.”

“I know . . .” he pauses as if unsure how to word what he wants to say, “I know this is your first time out since your husband passed.” I can’t help but wince a little at his words. “Sorry,” he says, sincerely. “I didn’t mean to bring up a sensitive subject. I just want to say, this is new, and so far I like you. And I’m prepared to go as slow as you’d like.”

Okay, my heart flutters a little. He gets me. He barely knows me, and he gets me. While I feel ready to burst into the dating scene, I’m not naïve enough to believe it’ll all come easy. Blake is the only man that has touched me . . . intimately in the last seven years. While the thought of feeling that rush that comes with falling for someone, that feeling of your body craving another, excites me, there’s a lot of fear there too.

“Thank you, Vick. I appreciate that.”

“Can I see you this weekend?”

My mouth quirks into a smile. “I’m babysitting this weekend. Maybe early next week?”

“Monday?”

“Monday works,” I agree.

After we finish our meal, we have one more drink before he walks me out to the parking lot. He opens my car door for me and we both kind of laugh awkwardly. Do we kiss? I’m sure he’s wondering should he kiss me; is it too bold? Me, I’m torn between wanting him to, and not wanting him to. But Vick takes control; he leans in and kisses the corner of my mouth chastely.

“Goodnight Demi,” he whispers before backing away.

“Night.” I give a little wave and slip inside my car. As I pull out of the parking lot, I touch my mouth where his lips brushed, smiling because, all in all, that was a perfect first date.

As I’m climbing out of my car, heading inside my house, I hear the roar of Connor’s bike. A few seconds later, he pulls in behind me. The motion sensor lights on the side of the house flashed on when I pulled in so I can see him perfectly, and I can see the dainty arms wrapped around his midsection. I shut my door, intending to hustle inside, unsure of why I want to avoid meeting whoever it is he’s brought home, but he turns off the engine and calls, “Hey, Demi. Everything alright?”

Turning, I plaster on a friendly smile. “Oh yeah. Just exhausted. Been a long day.”

He doesn’t respond right away, but motions his head, indicating for his guest to climb off while he holds the bike steady. I stand there, feeling like an idiot because I don’t know if it would be rude to go inside now or not. Should I wait for an introduction? Then, a tall blonde with a perfect body climbs off and smiles at me. I should’ve gone inside.

“Hi.” She waves, giving me a friendly smile. She’s the definition of a sexy biker chick. “I’m Roxy.” Of course she is. She’s gorgeous and has an awesome name.

“Demi,” I respond as I return the wave. “Nice to meet you.”

“I know who you are. I’ve heard so much about you, Demi,” she beams as she rushes in and gives me a strong hug. She has? Has Connor spoken about me? And why is she hugging me? My gaze darts to Connor, who clears his throat as he climbs off his bike and stretches. When Roxy turns back to him, he gives her a look that says, zip it. But I don’t have time to think about it because his gaze moves to me and moves down my body and back up again. I feel myself get hot just from his obvious perusal, and I pray the limited light hides my reaction. His Adams apple bobs as he swallows before he asks, “You been out tonight?”

I don’t know why his question makes me feel nervous, but I look at my feet and push my hair behind my ear, before meeting his gaze again. “Yes. I had a date.”

Now his brows rise, and his eyes widen. “Oh.” Then . . . there’s silence. Was that shock I heard in his voice? I wait for him to say something—anything—but all I get is silence. The sounds of crickets and frogs seem to blare until Roxy moves beside Connor and wraps one arm around his torso.

“Well—”

“We were going to grab something quick to eat and have a drink,” Roxy offers. “Would you like to join us?” Wow, this woman is friendly. And as weird as it sounds, there’s something about her that makes part of me want to get to know her. She looks like the kind of person that has all kinds of interesting tales of adventures to tell. Seeing them side by side, Connor in his rugged glory; tattoos, muscles, and worn jeans and Roxy in her perfectly fitted outfit, and long, lean legs, I can’t help thinking how good they look together. Now, I’m feeling a little off. And I can’t figure out why.

“Oh, I already ate,” I respond quickly. “But thank you. You guys have fun.”

“Your dress looks really good on you, by the way. I bet it was a great first date,” Roxy yells as I reach the steps.

As I climb the stairs to my back porch, I look back. “It was. Thanks,” I smile and head inside.

After I brush my teeth, I open the bathroom window just as Connor’s light in his apartment switches off. I guess Roxy is spending the night. As I climb in bed, I check my cell and find a text from Vick.

Vick:

Thank you for an awesome evening. Hope I didn’t scare you off with all of my intelligence. ;)

Me:

No. Just the talk about your huge penis. I’ve decided I only like small ones.

Vick:

Damn. Maybe I over talked it. It’s not

that

big.

I laugh and text back:

Nite. ;)

Vick:

Sweet dreams, Demi.

As I lay my head on my pillow after turning off my lamp, I inhale deeply. Thoughts of Vick scurry through my mind, followed by thoughts of Blake. But as my eyes close and I drift off to sleep, the last thought I have: Is Connor having sex with Roxy?