10
Drew
I came in at six-thirty and staked out the corner booth, the one that was the most private. I sipped my beer and waited.
At 7:15 on the dot I saw Michelle, looking nervous and walking toward me. She was wearing a sleeveless dress, bright blue like her eyes, and her blonde hair was twisted up in some kind of clip. A few wisps had escaped and clung to her neck and her temple in the evening heat. She was beautiful, and the fact that I saw her bite her lip showed me she was as anxious as I was. She slid into the booth across from me and held her purse in her lap like she’d held the tote bag in my truck the other day.
“Hey,” I said. “I’m not gonna bite you.”
“It’s just a little awkward,” she said. She didn’t meet my eyes.
“Chel,” I said, using my old nickname for me that made her blush, my body heating with the memory of when I had groaned my name, shouted it, whispered it while I moved inside of her. Even now, I said it in a way that affected her, something tender on the edges of the sound. Her eyes were bright.
A waitress came by and I ordered a drink, grateful for the interruption.
“I heard from Damon how great your kids’ reading program is. Tell me about that, just start off easy. There’s no pressure here,” I said.
“I started a few years ago with a preschool storytime every week and I did a little craft with them afterward that went with the story. Just cute Pinterest kind of stuff. It got to where I had to start doing it two times a week because there was a demand for it and there were more people bringing kids than I really had room for in one session. This last week we did Clifford the big dog, and then I did Biscuit, which is the little yellow dog in the early reader books.”
“Sounds fun. What are you doing next week?”
“Mittens the Cat and Cookie’s Week.”
“Cookie’s Week? I remember reading that as a kid. He falls in the toilet, right?” I chuckled.
“Yeah,” she said with half a smile, “that gets the kids every time. You say toilet and they go off like a powder keg.”
“A real crowd pleaser then. And democratic of you to do a week of cats after a week of dogs,” I said.
“I like to give them equal time,” I joked. “I was always a dog person, but I’ve gotten used to my cats.”
“Why? Because they’re quieter?”
“Maybe. Or maybe because I like to have a pet to cuddle with. That’s what we do, you know. Single women of a certain age. Spinsters,” she said, and her voice was rueful. That’s what she thought? That she was ready to give it up and be single forever? I shook my head. Then she went on, “I hear the garage is doing great. How’s your brother?”
“Greg’s good. He was just in town last weekend for my dad’s birthday.”
“Where’s Greg at now? I knew he got married.”
“Yeah, he and Katie got married about eight or nine years ago and then they moved to Chicago a few years ago for her job, and she has family there.”
“That’s great. I went there to a library convention a couple of times. It’s a neat city. There’s a terrific art museum,” she said.
“So I hear. I’ve been there to visit them a few times. Never went to the museum though. I guess I’m not the cultured type. I tried the pizza and the hot dogs, though, and liked them,” I said. I felt a little down, admitting it never occurred to me to visit a museum while I was there. That was the kind of thing she liked, the kind of thing that well-educated people with rich upbringings like her would go do. I went to a ball game with my brother, won fifty bucks playing darts in an Irish pub afterward.
“I’m glad he’s doing well. How’re your parents?”
“They’re good. They went on a cruise last year, and they loved it. Came home all sunburned and talking about the big buffets on the ship,” I said with a grin. “You know, my mom never got over you.”
We both stopped and looked at each other. She picked up her purse, visibly uncomfortable, “I think I should go.”
I reached across the table and put my hand on her arm. “Please stay,” I said.
11
Michelle
Drew’s hand was on my arm. My brain went completely offline, and electricity was zigzagging all around my body. I wanted to think it was because I hadn’t been touched in a while, but I knew that was a lie. It was because Drew’s hand, callouses and all, was on my arm. His hand felt big and rough and hot, and I squirmed a little, knowing how I was reacting to him.