Left (Left 1)

“A man crate.”

“Come again?” The looked confusion on her face makes me laugh.

“A man crate. They’re this insanely intelligent company that makes crates for men. They have things from beer brews to witling sets, and video game boxes.”

“What kind did you get him?”

“I got him a shaving crate. It has all the essentials, beard oil, shaving cream, brush, razor, and shaving soap. I know he’s almost out of a lot of that.”

“See that right there.” She points to me. “That’s wifely duties.”

“Buying him something he’ll use?”

“Knowing that he needs refills on his grooming products.”

I open my mouth and close it. I have no rebuttal for that. She’s right. I knew because I was putting away laundry and happened to see the nearly empty bottle on his dresser.

“Pour me a full glass,” I say as the truth hits me. We crossed the line from friends to something gray and unexplored a long time ago. The time has come to start adding definition. I can’t hide the flutter of anticipation in my stomach. Firm soft, and talented enough to charm the britches off the preacher’s daughter, his lips are a lethal weapon. His calloused hands are warm, and he makes me feel small and fragile. I’m pushing six feet, and a solid one-hundred-and-sixty pounds. It’s a rare feeling. I wonder if he’ s big all over. The bulge I felt pressed against my belly has me thinking the answer is yes.

I take a healthy gulp of my wine. Like the moon with the tides, I’m being pulled by a force greater than myself toward an inevitable event.

***

“Did you wear this for me?” Houston asks. I shift my weight from one candy red heeled foot to the other. It took Efia and me an hour to come up with the scoop neck black dress I’ve accessorized with a red belt. It’s a little fancier than I usually go, but it’s not over the top.

“A girl, can’t dress nicely?” I ask cocking my hip to the side. He’s wearing a pair of dark denim jeans that hug his firm thighs and tight ass. A white button up is covered by a gray vest with dark brown buttons that match his belt and shoes. I love the dapper style he has. The wallet change hanging out of his pocket lends a modern edge that has me pressing my thighs together to relieve the pressure building between my legs.

“Kitten, you can do whatever you want.” The pet name sends heat rushing to my cheeks. He places his fingers under my chin and forces me to meet his gaze. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you. You’re quite handsome.” I clear my throat. “Where is everyone?”

“Kids are with Mom and Dad for the evening. They’ll see them off to school.”

“Why?” I asked shocked.

“The only thing I wanted for my birthday was time alone with you.”

“Hous.” His honesty floors me.

“I set up a few things.”

“It’s your birthday. I should be surprising you.”

“You in that dress and those fuck me heels are gift enough.” My jaw drops. I’m not used to this side of him. It’s masculine, frank, and keeping my panties drenched. “Let me take that from you.” He takes the box from me and sets it on the table. “Come on.” He grabs my hand and laces our fingers. His romantic gestures are water after a drought. I want to drink them down and ask for a refill. As he leads me outside, the reasons for my hesitation drift further away.

The backyard is transformed. A cream colored cushion rests against the large oak tree. A few feet from a white ply board he’s secured to run movies on with a projector. Wicker basket lights and a string of small white lights are wound around the tree adding light in the darkness. Bowls of popcorn and a bucket of beer rest beside the cushions. Green fire flies flicker, greeting us in the summer evening.

“My mom might have helped with the decorations. I wanted to do something more than take you to a movie where we couldn’t even talk.”

“You did good,” I whisper, tightening my grip to squeeze his hand.

The boyish grin he directs at me weakens my knees. I’m seeing him in a new light, and it’s addicting. I want to see more of the sweetness he lost return.

“What do you want to do first?” I ask

He raises an eyebrow. “You sure you want to ask me that.”

“Houston.” I look away unable to hold his heated gaze. His wicked chuckle makes me think of the massive espresso colored King size bed in his room. “I set up our favorite, Dracula.”