Preston smiled and shook his head, pulling Ayla’s arm around his head so that he could burrow into the protective cocoon of her aura.
“His name is Preston. I’m Ayla. Murray.” She reached out and shook Mick’s proffered hand. “And yes, we have ‘met’ before. A few years ago.”
The handshake lingered, neither Ayla nor Mick wanting to break it, but likewise not knowing how to proceed.
Mick broke the silence first. “I hope this isn’t too forward, but would you like to get a cup of coffee or something? I mean if you aren’t,” Mick nodded toward Preston and then held up his left hand to display his bare ring finger.
It took Ayla a moment to get Mick’s hint. Her mind was still racing a billion miles per hour, and touching his hand again after all these years had sent a jolt directly to the part of her body that remembered Mick best.
Their handshake reluctantly ended, and they moved up into the candy aisle to make way for some softball players who’d come in to get Gatorades of their own.
“Yes. I think that would be wonderful,” Ayla responded. She didn’t want to seem desperate, but she wasn’t about to let the opportunity to reunite with Mick slip through her fingers.
Mick had to see her again. Just being near her made his cock twitch in the sweaty, painful cup he’d worn for his workout. He feared what a full erection might feel like in such confinement.
“Can I give you my number? Or have yours?” Mick asked. “I’m on my way home to shower and change and I have a flight leaving in a few hours to visit my mum in England. But I’d love to see you just as soon as I get back.”
Ayla feared that Mick was coming up with an excuse not to have to see her again. He had to know Preston was his. He looked just like him. And Ayla admitted to not being married. Her son was the right age to have been the fruit borne of their union. She had to somehow ensure (God, he was handsome!) that Mick would see her again. But how?
“Here, I’ll give you my number,” Ayla said, pulling out her phone. “And you text me from your phone so I have yours?”
“Absolutely,” Mick replied, setting his bottles down on a nearby shelf. “Go ahead.”
Ayla read off her number, Mick received it and sent her a text back so she’d have his.
“When you get back from Sheffield, hopefully we can get together,” Ayla said with a smile.
Mick returned the smile, but then his expression changed.
He’d never mentioned where in England he was going. And it would be an awfully lucky guess to pull ‘Sheffield’ out of thin air. He didn’t necessarily want to confront Ayla on it. Not just yet, anyway. If things went the direction he hoped they’d go, he’d get an answer one way or another. The fact that she had a son didn’t make her any less attractive to him. A bit complicated, perhaps, but she certainly seemed like a prize that would be well worth enduring a healthy dose of “complicated” to obtain.
Ayla squeezed Preston’s hand. She wanted to die. She’d slipped and mentioned his hometown, with no good explanation, except that in a roundabout way she’d been stalking him.
“I… we came in to buy Preston a slushie. Maybe if you have a minute I can get that and he can drink it while we talk outside or somewhere a little more private?”
Mick felt uneasy about the whole Sheffield thing, but he wanted everything to proceed. To work.
He didn’t want it to be weird for Ayla’s son, though.
“Sure. Yes, of course, have him pick out whatever he wants and just put it with my stuff, okay?”
Preston picked out a cherry cola slushie, masterfully mixing the two flavors just so. He set it proudly on the counter next to Mick’s Gatorades and Ayla’s bottle of lemonade. Mick peeled a twenty-dollar bill of a roll of cash to pay for it. Ayla at that moment had four dollars in cash to her name.
They strolled outside, with Mick stealing glances at Ayla’s ass swaying to and fro as she slowly sashayed along. He’d loved her walk, and it hadn’t changed a bit.
“There’s a park just a couple blocks away,” Ayla offered. “I don’t know if you have time, we could talk there. They have a splash pad; Preston will be happy to get wet.”
Mick checked his phone. “Sure, I can make that work.” Sitting at a park, or anywhere, with Ayla Murray (He loved her name) definitely beat hanging out in an airport waiting to be called to queue up for his flight. He could still make it. This opportunity was too much to pass up. “I’ll follow you.”
As soon as she got in the car, Ayla fired off a text to Desiree, in all caps. “I AM WITH MICK. OMG OMG OMG!!!”
Desiree’s reply was instant. “Drinking and driving is a no no, girl!”
“Seriously! Come to Mojave Pointe Park, by the splash pad. Bring a towel for Preston?”
“Try to stop me!”
“Mommy, do you know that big guy? He looks like a wrestler or something. Are we really going to the park?” Preston’s questions were rapid-fire, as was his custom.