Chapter Eight
There was nothing like the unexpected arrival of birth parents to put something as inconsequential as a blind date out of one’s mind, Jenna thought as she studied herself in her bathroom mirror.
She’d spent most of Thursday and today trying to forget Serenity and Tom had ever shown up in her life, which proved impossible. Even work hadn’t been enough of a distraction. But considering she was about to go on a date with a strange man who had a reputation for being a god in bed, getting her birth parents out of her mind should be relatively easy.
She studied the ruffled dress that Violet had rejected and decided it suited her just fine. She wasn’t trying to be sexy or sophisticated. She simply wanted to get through the evening without embarrassing herself.
After slipping on high-heeled sandals, she grabbed her small purse, a pashmina wrap and headed for the door.
Fifteen minutes later she’d arrived in Old Town, parked her car and was standing in front of the restaurant where she was to meet Dr. Mark of the gifted penis. She eyed the bar and wondered how dangerous it was to get completely drunk. After all, the restaurant would call a cab to get her home and she could phone Violet and get a ride to work with her. Not that getting plastered would do much for her first impression in the dating department.
She walked into the Mexican restaurant and found a tall, good-looking blond guy chatting with the hostess. Judging from the way they were looking at each other, they were obviously enjoying getting to know each other.
Player, Jenna thought in disgust, and felt a flash of pity for the guy’s date. Then her mind hiccupped as she recalled Violet’s description of Dr. Mark and realized he very well might be her date.
She cleared her throat, and they both looked up. The hostess looked annoyed while the guy gave Jenna a not-very-subtle once-over. He moved toward her and smiled, showing dimples that only enhanced his looks.
“Please tell me you’re Jenna,” he said in a low sexy voice. “If not, will you pretend to be?”
She wasn’t sure if she should be flattered or insulted.
“I’m Jenna,” she said, figuring the truth was always a good fallback position.
“I’m Mark.” He took her hand, then brought it to his mouth where he lightly kissed her fingers. “I owe Violet big-time.” He led her to the hostess.
“Table for two, somewhere private.”
The girl he’d been flirting with flashed him the hate stare, but he didn’t notice. Jenna got the message, though.
Note to self, she thought. Violet wasn’t kidding about this guy being a player. Absolutely no emotional engagement was allowed.
As they were shown to a quiet table in back, Jenna tried to figure out if she could really have sex with a stranger. Mark was handsome enough and obviously practiced, but her body had never been one to perform on command. The theory of rebound sex was interesting, but she wasn’t sure it was for her.
When they were seated, Mark moved his chair closer to hers. “Hello, Violet’s friend. I understand you’re new in town.”
“I’ve been back a couple of months.”
“Back from where?”
“Los Angeles.”
He studied her appraisingly. “I can see you on the beach.”
“I’m not really a beach kind of person. But I did go a few times.”
“I love the beach.”
She stared into his blue eyes. “You love the girls in bikinis.”
His smile was unrepentant. “God gave us beautiful women for a reason.”
“So you could admire them?”
“Something like that.”
The waiter appeared. Jenna risked ordering a margarita. Mark got a beer on tap.
She waited until they were alone before angling toward him. “Tell me about yourself.”
“I’m a doctor.” He paused, as if waiting for appropriate oohs and ahhs.
“Violet mentioned that. What kind?”
“Orthopedic surgeon. Show me a broken bone and I’ll heal it.”
“Just like Jesus.”
“Almost.” He flashed her a grin, then shifted his chair a little closer and took one of her hands in both of his. “I’m very good with bodies.”
He was close enough that she could inhale the scent of his skin. The smell was pleasant enough, but he was invading her personal space, which she didn’t like.
“Do you handle any of the local sports teams?” she asked as a way to distract him.
“Mostly the Longhorns. I’ve fixed up several of their players. They have a team doctor but I’m called in for the difficult cases. Teams in other cities fly me in for consults.”
He got into his story, telling her about private jets, operating rooms in different cities and what it was like to watch a game on Sunday morning, knowing if someone got injured, he could get the call.
Their drinks arrived. She used the moment to inch her chair back and slide her glass away from him so he wouldn’t hold her hand as much.
From his work, Mark segued to his personal travel. Jenna found herself thinking about Serenity and Tom and wondering what they were doing, alone in a strange city. While she didn’t want to spend time with them, she also felt a little guilty for ignoring them. Telling herself they would be at brunch on Sunday wasn’t enough.
This was all Beth’s fault, she told herself. If her mother hadn’t raised her to have good manners, she could cheerfully ignore her birth parents.
“Jenna?”
She looked at Mark.
“That was funny,” he said. “You’re supposed to laugh.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them. “I’m distracted. You’re great and this is fun, but I’ve had the weirdest week.”
“I know how that goes.” His smile was back, and interest danced through his deep, blue eyes.
“This is different from work issues though. Wednesday morning two strangers walked into my store. They seemed nice enough—maybe a little hippy. They announced they were my birth parents. I always knew I’d been adopted, but I never had any contact with them before. And there they were, in my store.”
He stared into her eyes and nodded. “That’s rough.”
“Tell me about it. I totally freaked. I’m not looking for more parents. I love the ones I have. I just want the new ones to go home. Worse, they’re hippies. Serenity and Atomic, if you can believe it. They would have called me Butterfly. Who does that to an innocent kid?”
He sipped his beer and nodded.
“But they’re my blood relations, and they have two sons, who are my brothers. So there’s this whole other part of my life I don’t know about. It’s confusing and kind of scary. I don’t know what to do. My mom—my real mom—is having them over for brunch on Sunday. So I’ll see them then. Part of me thinks that’s plenty of getting-to-know-you-time while another part of me feels guilty about not hanging out with my biological parents more. Still, it’s not like I asked them to show up.”
She sucked in a breath, then let it out slowly. “And I’ve just done the emotional dump thing, haven’t I? Sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
He captured her hand before she could pull it away and lightly kissed her knuckles. The contact was the most erotic thing to happen to her in close to six months, so she waited for the tingle or a whisper of heat. All that surfaced was the realization she was going to have to wash her hands before she was comfortable diving into the chips and salsa.
“What’s the plan?” Mark asked, running the tip of his tongue across the pads of her fingers.
“Plan?” Weren’t they having dinner? This was a restaurant, right? Those sheets of paper in the corner of the table really looked like menus.
“Did you want to eat, or should we go somewhere private?”
Now she felt stupid. “Private?”
He leaned in close and pressed his mouth to her ear. “You’re beautiful, Jenna. Soft and feminine.” His hand dropped to her knee, slipped under her dress and started a purposeful journey up her thigh.
She jumped and scooted the chair back about a foot. “What are you talking about?”
Mark looked more puzzled than annoyed. “Violet said you were looking for a rebound guy and I’m good with that.”
Jenna’s mouth dropped open. She closed it only to have it fall open again.
“I thought this was a date,” she said at last. “I don’t think I can have sex with a stranger.”
“That’s because you’ve never tried.” He winked at her. “If you’re worried it won’t be good for you, there isn’t a woman alive I can’t please. I’m up for anything.” He grinned. “If you’ll excuse the pun.”
She collected her purse and stood. “Mark, you’re really, um, unexpected. I appreciate the offer, but I can’t right now.”
“Want to go make out in my car? I bet I could change your mind.”
“Flattering, but no. I guess I’m not ready for a rebound guy.”
He stood. “I understand.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a business card. After writing on it, he handed it to her. “I’ve given you my cell phone number. When you change your mind, give me a call.”
He moved toward her, put one hand on her shoulder and bent to kiss her. While her instinct was to turn her head, she stayed where she was as his mouth brushed against hers.
The contact was soft and exploring. And she felt nothing. Yup—a hasty retreat was exactly right.
He straightened enough to whisper, “I make house calls.”
“Good to know.” She turned to leave, then looked back at him. “You going after the hostess?”
He chuckled. “Sure. Did you get a look at her ass?”
“No.”
“It’s impressive,” he said with a wink.
“Okay, then.” Jenna couldn’t find it in her heart to be angry. Violet had promised a player who was good in bed and that’s who Mark was. There was an ick factor she couldn’t overcome, but he was probably exactly what some other woman was looking for.
Once she got to her car, she grabbed her cell.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Mom. Are you and Dad up for some company?”
“Of course. Have you eaten?”
“No. Are there leftovers?”
“Yes, although I doubt they’re up to your standards.”
“They’ll be perfect. See you in a bit.”
She hung up, then started her car and drove the familiar route to her parents’ house. Beth was waiting and opened the front door before Jenna could ring the bell.
Her mother took in the dress, the fluffy hair and extra makeup. “You look pretty. Were you on a date?”
“If that’s what you want to call it.”
Beth grinned. “Really? That’s wonderful. Tell me everything.” Her smile faded. “Wait. If you’re done already, it didn’t go well, did it?”
“Not exactly.”
“Come on, honey. We’ll go in the kitchen and you can talk about it. I warned your father there might be girl talk, so he found a baseball game to watch.”
Jenna loved everything about being in the house. It was warm and welcoming, happy and familiar. Her mother settled on a bar stool in the kitchen while Jenna pulled containers of leftovers from the stainless steel refrigerator.
As she turned on the oven and reviewed the leftover potential, she explained Violet’s theory of rebound guy.
“Makes sense,” her mother said. “You don’t want to get serious too quickly.”
“I guess.” Jenna checked the vegetable drawer for herbs and pulled out some fresh basil. “But Dr. Mark was a pro.”
She detailed her date as she got out a premade single-serving pizza crust from the pantry, then smoothed on the leftovers. After topping it with grated mozzarella, she added fresh basil, then put the whole thing in the oven.
Maybe she should do a pizza class, she thought absently. How pizza could be made with just about anything. It was a fun way to use up leftovers, and the mothers might appreciate it as a way to get their kids to eat all kinds of things.
Beth was laughing by the end of her story. “He actually said he could please any woman? There’s a claim. You should have taken him up on it.”
“I’m not sure sex with a stranger is a stress I need right now.”
“It might make you feel better. Clear out the pipes, so to speak.”
“Mom!” Jenna was shocked. “I’m your daughter.”
“You’re an adult. It could be fun. Dr. Mark sounds intriguing.”
“Then you go out with him.”
“I’m married.”
“I’m not sure that would bother him at all.”
Jenna moved toward her mother, who hugged her tight.
“You doing all right?” Beth asked.
Jenna knew they weren’t talking about her date anymore. “I’m dealing. They haven’t been in the store again, which is good. I’ll see them Sunday.”
“Yes, you will. It will be fine, you’ll see. We’ll all get along.” Beth touched Jenna’s cheek. “Want to spend the night?”
Jenna thought about her familiar room upstairs. The bed she’d had since she was a teenager. Not that she’d used it much, once she’d left for college. The attached bathroom was probably still stocked with her old perfumes and acne treatments.
“You should clean it out and make it a guest room.”
“We have a guest room.”
“Then take up a hobby. Scrapbooking or knitting. Only Ewe has classes.”
“I like that it’s your room. It makes me happy.”
Jenna held on to her mother and kissed the top of her head. “I would love to stay the night.”
* * *
Violet was waiting when Jenna arrived at work the next morning.
“Now it’s my turn to want details,” her friend said. “Tell me everything.”
Jenna laughed. “Mark was exactly as you promised. Handsome and more than willing to take care of my personal plumbing.”
Violet’s dark eyebrows drew together. “Why don’t I like the sound of that? It didn’t go well, did it?”
“Not exactly. Mark was thinking that sex was a sure thing, while I wasn’t sure I was ready to date.”
“Oh, God. That’s not good. What happened?”
Jenna gave her the basic details as she put her purse on the shelf and led the way into the store.
“I’m sorry. I should have been more clear with him.”
Jenna shook her head. “I don’t think that would have helped. He’s a man on a mission. When last I saw him, he was off to seduce the restaurant hostess. What I’m curious about is the potential pool of women. The way he goes through them, isn’t he in danger of running out?”
“True, but he travels a lot.” Violet winced. “I’m sorry it was so horrible.”
“Actually, it wasn’t. I liked going out and seeing if I could date. I think maybe I could, but I’m not up for a professional rebound guy. Maybe if my biological parents hadn’t popped into my life with no warning, but they pretty much burned up all my extra energy. I just wish they’d go away.”
“They weren’t that bad,” Violet said.
“You want them?”
An expression of longing briefly passed over Violet’s face.
The look surprised Jenna. “You’re looking for a family?”
“I never knew my dad and I haven’t seen my mom since I was fifteen. She’s probably dead and I don’t know if I care enough to find out.”
Jenna was stunned. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I was very insensitive.”
“You didn’t know,” Violet told her. “It’s fine. I haven’t had a real family, so it’s not like I know what I’m missing. It would be weird if my dad just showed up. I wouldn’t know it was him.” She frowned. “I don’t think I’d believe him.” The frown faded. “I have trust issues.”
“We all have something,” Jenna said.
“You have too many parents. It’s cool that Beth isn’t freaking out. She could be and that would make this all really awkward.” Violet motioned to a stack of boxes by the cash register. “Those Bundt pans finally came in. We can schedule the cake class.”
Jenna wasn’t sure if the change in subject was deliberate or not, but she went with it. The last thing she wanted to do was hurt Violet’s feelings. As much as she and the other woman had started to become friends, Jenna realized she barely knew anything about Violet’s previous life.
“Now I have to find a killer recipe,” she said. “Is chocolate too much of a cliché?”
Violet laughed. “Your primary customer base is women. I don’t think chocolate is ever a cliché.”
They went over the rest of the class schedule for the coming week.
“Are we sure about working with kids?” Jenna asked more to herself than to Violet. “It’s going to get messy.”
“But their moms are looking for new ways to cook healthy.”
“I know.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m thinking I should embrace the messiness. What about turkey meatballs? They’re packed with protein and very lean, which the moms should appreciate. We can make them relatively plain for the kids and then do a nice spicy sauce for the parents.”
“That would work. It’s a finger food. Children love finger foods.”
“Right. Oh, and for our classic Italian cooking class, I want to feature a Rachael Ray recipe for baked ziti. Everyone loves her and I’ve tried the recipe. It’s great.”
She spoke easily, careful not to let on how much it bothered her to use someone else’s recipe. It was worse than cheating—it was admitting she was a failure. Before, she would have simply come up with a recipe herself. Before, when she’d trusted herself.
A few days ago, she’d played with a cake-cheesecake combination. The idea had been so clear in her head. She knew how it was supposed to taste. But halfway through the baking, she’d pulled the cake out of the oven and dumped it in the trash without even tasting it. Because thinking it was horrible was better than being sure.
“I’m sure the Rachael Ray books would sell in the store,” Violet told her, drawing her back to the present.
“Me, too.”
The front door opened. They both turned to greet the new customer. Jenna held in a groan when she saw Serenity.
Today the other woman was dressed in a long, flowing tunic in lavender, and stone-colored loose pants that came to just below her calves. A delicate chain circled her ankle, while sandals showcased a pedicure of purple nail polish.
“Good morning,” Serenity said, sounding happy. “I woke up just before dawn and knew I wanted to see my daughter again.”
Jenna did her best not to bristle at the “my daughter” comment. She would take the words in the spirit in which they were meant, she told herself. Or at least give it a good try.
“Nice to see you again,” she said. “Did you meet Violet last time you were here? She’s the brains behind the organization. I’m the cook.”
“We spoke,” Violet said, moving toward Serenity and offering her hand. “But I don’t believe there were introductions. Nice to meet you.”
“You, too.”
Serenity took Violet’s hand and held on to it. She put her other palm close to Violet’s cheek without touching it.
“Your aura is troubled,” Serenity said. “You’re unsure. But your future will be happy.” She frowned. “There’s a bump in the road ahead, but once you’re through that, you’ll be fine.”
Jenna stared, unable to think what to say. All this and no tarot cards, she thought, trying to find the humor in the situation. It was that or scream, and it seemed a little early for a full-throated yell.
Serenity dropped her hands and beamed at Violet. “I hope you don’t mind. I get a sense about people. Tom reminds me not everyone wants to know what’s going to happen to them. He thinks I should edit more.”
Yay, Tom, Jenna thought.
“A happy future is good,” Violet said. “Thanks for sharing.”
“Just watch out for the bump.”
“I will.”
Jenna wondered how Violet could be so calm and rational. Maybe she was more experienced with those slightly off the road of normal.
“We were planning menus for our cooking classes,” Jenna said into the silence. “We try to have a class every day. During the class we feature cookware or cookbooks. For some, we have the ingredients prepared ahead of time, along with a recipe card. Customers can buy them and re-create the dish that night, if they want.”
“That’s very innovative.” Serenity picked up the printed list of classes. “I see you’re doing organic but not vegan.”
“Not many in the community have embraced the vegan lifestyle. It’s tough.” There had been a lot of vegan eaters in L.A., but Jenna and Aaron hadn’t catered to that crowd. Vegetarian they could do, but vegans didn’t eat animal products of any kind. In her opinion, the world was a sad place without butter. Not to mention cheese. A little sprinkling of the right cheese could save almost any dish.
“Have you tried any vegan recipes?” Serenity asked.
“No. I don’t have much experience in that area.”
“You should. Even if you don’t plan on becoming a vegan, you can try a completely different way of thinking about food. You might find it’s fun.”
Fun. Jenna couldn’t remember the last time cooking had been fun. Although the idea of trying vegan intrigued her. As she’d never done it before, there would be no expectations.
“Why don’t I whip up a few things and bring them by for you to try?” Serenity offered.
“All right.” Jenna did her best to sound more enthused than doubtful.
She realized she’d failed when Serenity laughed. “I promise the food won’t be horrible. You inherited your cooking ability from me, Jenna. I’ve been creating recipes since I was very young. My mother and her mother were also great cooks. In fact your grandmother, who was French, by the way, owned a bakery. Her pie crust alone generated three marriage proposals before she was sixteen.”
Her smile turned impish. “When I occasionally go off the vegan wagon, so to speak, I confess it’s with a fresh baguette and some cheese. Organic, of course.”
“You’re French,” Violet said. “That’s good to know.”
It was, but somehow Jenna still resented having the information. Even more uncomfortable, she wanted to ask questions. To know more about her ancestry, even though that seemed like a betrayal of Beth and Marshall.
Serenity flipped her hair over her shoulder. It was a casual gesture, but one that Jenna recognized—mostly because she did it herself.
“I’m not trying to get in the way,” the older woman told her. “I want to get to know you, just a little. And you to get to know us. That’s why we’re here. Because we miss you.”
It had been thirty-two years, Jenna thought grimly. It sure took them a long time to miss someone.
She recognized the twisted reasoning of being annoyed they’d shown up at all and resenting how long it had taken them to come find her in the first place. Probably a defense mechanism, she thought. A way to protect her emotions.
“Getting to know each other is probably a good idea,” she said, her voice neutral.
Beth would be so proud. But in truth, Jenna had no plans to connect with her birth parents or even like them very much. They were intruders. She already had a mother and father she loved, and for some reason she couldn’t escape feeling that Serenity and Tom were a threat to them.
* * *
Violet found herself anticipating her second date with Cliff more than she would have thought. They’d been texting throughout the week. Despite having gotten her number, he hadn’t called. She had a feeling he was trying to play it cool, which was intriguing. It implied that he cared enough to have a strategy. Very different for a girl who had pretty much always been a sure thing.
They met in front of the Silver and Stone Restaurant. When she arrived, Cliff was already waiting near the elevator.
For this date Violet had gone with fitted black pants and a white silk blouse—one of her ten classic wardrobe pieces. She finished her outfit with black sandals and silver earrings. Casual chic, she told herself as she walked up to Cliff.
He’d traded in a suit for jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. He looked good, she thought. Normal. He smiled when he saw her, delight brightening his hazel-brown eyes.
“You came,” he said as he approached, then took her hands in his and lightly kissed her cheek.
“Does that surprise you?”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “It kind of does. Are you hungry? I’ve eaten here before and the steaks are great. So’s the service and they have a nice wine list.”
He was talking a lot again. The obvious nervousness was charming, she thought happily, and made her like him more.
They walked up to the hostess, where Cliff said he had a reservation. Calling ahead was a small thing, Violet told herself, but still thoughtful.
They were shown to a table by the window and handed menus. Cliff ignored his and stared at her.
“You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Would you mind if I ordered a bottle of red wine to have with dinner? This place has a great wine list and they carry several of my favorites.”
“That would be nice. I enjoy red wine.”
She had a feeling anything he ordered would be nicer than the stuff she bought at the grocery store.
“Wine is one of my things,” he told her. “I’ve owned a couple of condos, but never a house. When I finally buy one, I want room for one of those freestanding wine cellars. One with temperature and humidity controls.”
“Something to keep in your man cave?” she teased.
He grinned. “I don’t think I need a man cave.”
“But there are all those sports to watch.”
He glanced at the table then back at her. “I’m hoping I’ll find someone who likes to watch them with me. When I get married again, I want my wife to hang out with me. I’m not looking for space for myself.”
“That sounds nice.”
“I know there are guys who want to be with their friends, and that would be okay, from time to time.” He grinned. “But I prefer the company of women.”
“We smell better.”
“Yes, you do.”
The server appeared. She was a pretty woman about Violet’s age, with huge breasts and big Texas blond hair.
She introduced herself and talked about the specials. Violet was surprised when Cliff barely glanced at her. Instead, he smiled at Violet as the other woman spoke.
“What can I get you to drink?” she asked when she’d finished her list of specials.
Cliff ordered his bottle of wine. The server’s eyes widened.
“Yes, sir. I’ll bring that to the table right away.”
She picked up the wineglasses already there and quickly replaced them with much larger, more expensive-looking glasses.
Violet raised her eyebrows. “So this isn’t the fourteen-ninety-nine special.”
“You’ll love it.”
Now she was curious and made a note to check out the label, then go online later to find out what a bottle of Cliff’s favorite wine cost.
“Are you planning on being in the Austin area long enough to buy a house?” Violet asked when they were alone.
“I’m hoping to be. My boss has made it clear he wants me here for at least ten years. I’ve looked around at several of the neighborhoods and they’re family friendly. I want a nice house, though. With lots of room.”
“Do you want a family?” She couldn’t remember the last time a guy talked so easily about his future. Most of them were reluctant to make plans more than two days in advance.
“Two kids, maybe three. A boy and a girl, for sure. A dog.” He ducked his head. “I know what you’re thinking. Pretty boring, suburban dreams. I can’t help it. I’m a guy who likes the ’burbs. It’s where I grew up.”
“I’m not thinking that at all,” Violet admitted, a little surprised to feel herself longing for what Cliff mentioned.
A husband and kids. She’d never seen herself with either—probably because girls like her didn’t get happy endings. But she’d been changing her life for a while now. Making better choices. That had been the hardest thing—walking away from her old way of life and taking responsibility for acting differently. She’d done it day by day, choosing what was right for her future rather than what was expedient. Maybe Cliff was her reward for the hard work.
“I hope you get exactly what you want,” she added, smiling at him.
“I will. I always do.”
The server appeared with the wine and made a show out of uncorking it.
Cliff tasted the small amount she poured. Violet braced herself for a whole swirling, twirling, sucking dance, but he only sniffed it once, took a sip, then nodded.
“Very nice.” He looked at Violet. “I hope you’ll like it.”
“I’m sure I will.”
The server poured wine into both their glasses, then left.
Cliff waited while Violet tasted the wine. She didn’t know enough to say anything other than, “It’s nice,” which was true.
“You like it?” He sounded anxious.
“Very much.”
“Good.” He leaned toward her. “I’ve done all the talking so far, Violet. Tell me more about yourself. Where did you grow up?”
“A small town in Louisiana,” she admitted.
“You don’t have much of an accent.”
“I can when I want,” she said in a drawl, then shifted back to her regular speech. “I watched a lot of movies when I was young and I wanted to sound like them.” Rather than her mother, she added silently. “I had a typical childhood.” She smiled as she lied.
Why get into the truth? It wasn’t early dating material. It might never be something she told anyone. Why share that her mother had been the local town whore? That when Violet was two weeks shy of her fourteenth birthday, a man in town had given her mother a few hundred dollars for the privilege of raping her daughter.
Oh, it wasn’t called rape. Her mother had promised her a special night. Violet had seen enough of her mother’s business trade to know what was going to happen. Running away had earned her a whipping that had put off the deflowering a good month, but eventually the old man had taken her to a small house in a neighboring town and done his thing.
She’d cried and screamed until he hit her so hard, she was nearly unconscious. When she got home, her mother gave her fifty dollars and told her to go buy herself something pretty.
Instead, she’d saved the money, stolen from her mother when the woman was drunk and had run away the summer she turned fifteen.
She edited as she spoke. “I moved to New Orleans when I was still a teenager.”
“Great city. Did you like living there?”
She faked a smile. “Sure. There’s always something going on. Lots of tourists.”
Her time in the city was mostly a blur. She’d discovered getting high made her life bearable, and she’d been young enough and pretty enough to find men who were willing to finance her habit. She’d mostly serviced the tourist trade, but had a few local regulars.
One of them, Sam, had taken her in when a particularly nasty customer had beaten the crap out of her. He’d warned her that if she didn’t get out, she would be dead in five years. Violet wasn’t sure why, but she’d believed him. She’d decided to make a change.
“From there I went to Pensacola. I got a job in an appliance store, answering the phones.”
It hadn’t been much, but she’d gotten off drugs with help from a free program through a local church and had supplemented her pitiful income with a few customers a week. She’d learned to save, to plan and had gotten her GED.
“After a few years there, I came to the Austin area. My apartment is in Georgetown and I really like it. There’s a sense of community.”
She’d wanted to go somewhere that no one knew her. She hadn’t sold herself in six years and had no plans to go back to the business. She saved nearly a third of her salary, investing it safely. No matter what happened, she wanted to be able to take care of herself. Life had taught her to never trust a man.
“Have you always been in retail?” Cliff asked.
Violet nearly choked on the wine she’d sipped. “Pretty much,” she said. “I love the store where I work now. Jenna’s a great boss. Our customers are fun.”
She shifted the conversation back to him.
* * *
By the end of the meal Violet had a greater appreciation of a really great cabernet sauvignon and of Cliff. He was funny, charming, smart and apparently crazy about her. They talked more about his job. He admitted to being terrified of his assistant, a stern woman who had been with the company nearly thirty years. He liked his boss, enjoyed bike riding, hadn’t dated much in high school and had never cheated on a woman. The most interesting part was she sort of believed him. Even about the not cheating.
Now, with the bill argued over—she’d offered to pay—they walked outside in the cool, clear night. Cliff reached for her hand as they moved toward her car in the parking lot next to the restaurant.
“I had a great time,” he said.
“Me, too.” The best part was she was telling the truth.
“Want to do this again?”
“Yes.”
They reached her car. Before she could pull her keys out of her purse, he stepped in front of her and cupped her face in his hands.
The kiss was inevitable, she thought, bracing herself for contact. She knew the drill, how to get through it without letting her indifference show. Because touching and being touched wasn’t the same for her as it was for other girls. It wasn’t that she didn’t like the contact, it was that she could barely feel it. Doing what she’d done had messed with her body. She’d gotten so used to disconnecting from what was happening that it was nearly impossible to experience desire.
He leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers. The touch was tender, soft and gentle. He offered rather than took, and she found herself relaxing. It was nice, she thought. In time, if she was patient, there might be something more.
“I’ll call you,” he whispered, before stepping back. “Good night.”
“Night.”
He was a good guy, she told herself as she drove away. Other women might take that for granted, but not her. She knew the other side too well, and had promised herself she would never go back.