11. Hawk
Hawk
Unlike school drop-off, it’s a damn good thing I can make it to a date on time. When I pull up in front of Miss Hollifield’s condo, she’s standing outside waiting for me.
I slow my bike to a stop, pocket my glasses, and hop off.
The woman in front of me is nothing short of exquisite.
Her blond hair sparkles in the setting sun like sunshine on a perfectly smooth lake.
She’s wearing these dark jeans-like things that look too fancy to be denim, and yet they cling to her curves like she’s poured into them.
“I am so, so hot for teacher,” I tell her.
She laughs, a bright, bold sound, but it’s true.
I’m sunk. In over my head. This woman is smart, professional, and so goddamn beautiful, I should get right back on my bike and go back to the compound.
But I’m an asshole who’s never known how to stay out of trouble, so I walk right up to her and slip a hand around her waist.
“Goddamn, woman.” I resist the urge to pull her close to me, to cup the back of her neck, and taste the strawberries I can smell on her lips. It’s way too fucking much and way too soon. But if I only have one night with Miss Veronica Hollifield, I’m going to make it count.
She must feel the same way because she sways a bit, leaning into me until her hips are resting against mine. “It’s too bad you’re not late,” she murmurs against my ear. “I was looking forward to giving you a hard time.”
My cock throbs at the layers of meaning in her velvety voice. I growl, deep in my throat. “I’m changing your contact into my phone to Sexy Bitch. Suits you better.”
She laughs and laces one arm around my back in a quick hug. “Let’s go get that drink.”
“Still calling it at one?” I tease, putting my hand at the small of her back and walking her over to the bike.
“Depends on how good the ride there is,” she says.
This woman. For a second, every insecurity, every shame, every disappointment I felt in my marriage, in my childhood, rears its ugly head.
I could never be enough for a woman like this.
She’s a handful, a headful, and a heart full of everything good.
We’re both quiet as we stand in front of the bike, me lost in a thundercloud of the past.
“Hawk?” She smiles, a hand lightly on my arm. “I don’t know what to do here.”
I snap to attention, realizing she thinks I’m waiting for her to get on the bike. I nod and grab the helmet I’ve brought for her. I give her a quick rundown on passenger safety, what to do, and, most importantly, what not to do. How not to help me.
“You get scared,” I tell her, securing the helmet on her head, “you hold me tighter. You feel me move, you move with me. You see something you think I don’t see, you’re wrong.”
She laughs at that. “So, hold on to you for dear life and keep my mouth shut?”
“You’re as smart as you look,” I tell her.
Once we’re on, the bike’s thrum drowns out everything inside my head. With Miss Hollifield’s arms around me and her thighs tensed against my hips, all I need is the open road.
We drive the scenic route far out of town, headed to a place I know we won’t run into students, parents, or anyone who knows her.
I park in a spot behind a cottage that looks like a bait shop and a honky-tonk bar, complete with a rusted-out ice machine out front and half-burned-out string lights dripping from the rafters like a bad hangover.
“This looks nice.” She pulls her arms from around my chest, and I damn near grab her hands and bring them back. Fuck, this woman’s touch is too easy to get used to. There is no sarcasm in her voice, but I know the outside is far worse than what’s beneath the surface.
“Strongest drinks in the county,” I promise. I help her pull off the helmet and secure it, then watch as she shakes out and smooths her hair. “You’re a fucking vision,” I tell her, plucking a stray lock from her face.
We stand there in the dark parking lot, locked in a staredown that’s part curious, part pure heat. I cup her chin.
“You come here often?” she asks quietly, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth.
Heat courses through my limbs, and I nod. “You’ll see.” I hold out a hand, and she takes it, as though this is a thing we’ve done a thousand times before.
I’ve never believed in soul mates. Never believed in woo-woo bullshit before.
Love at first sight. Destiny. Fate. I’ve always believed that life is just nature.
Shit happens. We choose to weather the storms or let those storms pull us under.
But this woman’s fingers laced through mine sends something strange firing through my chest. It’s not lust, although I’ve got that in spades.
It’s not a feeling I can name exactly because it’s not something I let myself feel often.
Guys like me don’t dabble in dreams. We don’t fuck around with wishes. But this woman who’s following me into a dive bar that stinks of hot dogs and beer brings something to life inside me. Something that feels a lot like hope.
I lead her through the dark bar, the soles of my boots sticking to the beer-splattered floor.
“What is this place?” she asks, but she doesn’t sound disgusted.
“It’s my uncle’s place,” I tell her.
“Well, I know that. I saw the sign out front.”
“It’s a completely unironic name,” I tell her.
I lead her to the bar, passing rickety chairs, a card table that’s currently occupied by six middle-aged men, and a huge corner booth that has older women crammed in, knee to knee.
Some birthday gift bags are on the table, and the women are laughing and pounding very colorful drinks.
She slides onto a barstool, and I scoot mine close to hers so our thighs touch. She peers down at a paper menu that’s yellowed and old, but still valid, stuck underneath the plastic varnished bar top. “It really is called My Uncle’s Place.”
I lean close to her and move her hair away from her ear. “Yeah, but I’m the only one here who’s actually related to the owner.”
A sixtysomething woman in a long-sleeved sparkly top and tight jeans hobbles over to us and slaps a hand on the bar.
“Well, fuck my eyes.” She glares at me. “What the hell are you doin’ here, trouble?
” She hauls ass from behind the bar and throws herself against me.
“You should’ve come behind the bar to give me my hug.
Fuck you, making an old lady come to you. ”
I kiss Roxanne’s cheek and let her wrap me in a hard hug. “Where’s my uncle?”
“Not so fucking fast. I want to know who this is here?” Roxanne cocks her head at Miss Hollifield and looks at me. “Did you kidnap her? Honey, do you need me to call the cops?”
Miss Hollifield’s mouth drops open, and I shake my head as Rox slaps her knee and blurts out a laugh.
“I’m fucking with you, sugar. Lemme get a good look at you.
” She shoves me out of the way and gives my date a thorough once-over.
She looks back at me. “This is one good man,” she says.
“And I should know. I’ve been shacked up with his uncle for sixteen years. ”
“About time he makes an honest woman of you,” I say.
Rox raises a brow and then belts out an even louder laugh. “I ain’t been honest a day in my life, and I ain’t gonna start now.” She grins at my date. “So, who’s this supermodel you conned into coming out here?”
She holds out a hand. “I’m Veronica,” she says. “So nice to meet you.”
Rox takes Veronica’s hand and yanks her close, giving her a huge bear hug.
“Ah, girlie, nice to meet ya. You be good to this boy.” She limps back behind the bar and again smacks her hand against the counter.
“Now, we got no kitchen, but we can do hot dogs, nachos, and grilled cheese if you need something to soak up the booze.”
“Fuck that,” I rumble, and Rox starts roaring.
“That’s my boy.” She points to the drinks and tells us the first round’s on my uncle.
“Where is the old man?” I ask.
“Shitter,” she says, like it’s no big deal. She rolls her eyes toward the ceiling. “Doctor’s making him add more fiber to his diet, and the guy takes more shit breaks than a bear with a box of laxatives.”
I shake my head, and Veronica looks both amused and horrified. “TMI, Rox,” I tell her. “I’ll have my usual.”
“Gotcha.” Rox points at Veronica. “Whatcha havin’, gorgeous? You a liquor or a beer gal? We got teas and soda, if you’re driving.”
“We rode here,” I tell her with a glare. As if I’d ever let a woman drive on a date. I look at Veronica, taking a minute to get used to calling her that.
“I’ll have what you’re having,” she says after a beat.
“What if I’m drinking water?” I curve the corner of my lips at her.
She looks right at Roxanne. “Whatever he’s having.”
“Beer,” I say.
“Beer works,” Veronica replies.
Rox nods at me. “I like her.”
Yeah, Auntie Rox. I like her too.
My uncle comes out front, his bowed legs making him look like he’s walking on a moving ship as he steps out from behind the bar.
“Holy shit, kid.” He saunters around the bar and claps me on the back with a meaty hand.
“I hope you washed those,” I tell him, pulling him in for a hug. “Rox said you’re shitting yourself six ways to Sunday.”
“Oh, fuck y’all.” My uncle Jim runs a hand through thinning gray hair. “I’ve been fighting with our damn printer for the last forty-five minutes.”
“Uh-huh,” I laugh, the heat from Veronica’s thigh making me relaxed. “Uncle Jim, this is Veronica Hollifield.” I motion toward my date.
“Well, lovely to meet you,” Jim says, extending a hand. “These two like to give me a hard time, but I did, in fact, wash these hands.”
Veronica laughs and shakes his.
Jim and I shoot the shit for a minute, and then he gets clapped on the back by one of the old men playing cards.
“Johnny Rocco’s got to go home. We need a sixth man, but there are no other men in the bar, so you’ll do.”
I recognize Ernie, a regular at the bar and one of my uncle’s oldest friends.
“Fuck off, I’m working,” Jim says, but Rox interrupts him.
“Does it look like I need your help? Go play cards.” She looks at my uncle with such love that something in my chest burns.
He nods at her, a smile on his face. “All right, baby. I’ll be there if you need me.” He waddles over to the card table and drops down, while Rox heads out to the booth to clear the drinks from the ladies having the birthday party.
“They’re cute,” Veronica says, leaning close to me.
Two beers later, I’m feeling really good.
I lean an arm over her shoulder and whisper against her ear.
“They’re all the family I have.” It’s honest, but it feels too honest. I quickly redirect us.
“And the only cute thing I see in this bar,” I trail a fingertip along her left cheek, the side of her face closest to me, “is this face. This dimple.”
She reaches for her glass, swallowing the last drops as though she’s feeling as hot for me as I am for her.
“Another round?” Rox comes back around the bar and shouts at us but doesn’t give us a chance to answer before setting down two more drinks.
“This beer is going down too easy,” she says. She puts a hand on my knee. She widens my legs, and we both turn so we’re facing each other, her knees between mine.
“To first names and nicknames, Sexy Teacher,” I say, holding up my fresh beer.
We clink our glasses
“Hawk, tell me more about your family.”
“They may not look like it now, but they traveled a lot. Never married. When my uncle’s health got too bad for him to stay abroad, they retired and bought this old place. Believe it or not, it’s been called My Uncle’s Bar since it opened in the sixties.”
Veronica laughs like that’s the funniest thing she’s heard all night. “And your uncle owns it… Oh my gosh. That’s too funny.”
We talk about our families, sharing old stories and memories we’ll never be able to relive. Time passes in a blur.
I order us a couple of waters, and my uncle gets up from his card game and slaps me on the back with his hand out.
“Keys,” Jim demands. “I’m calling you a cab home.”
“What? We’re fine. I’m…”
Jim shakes his head. “Boy, give me your keys. I’m not about to let you get on that death mobile with a beautiful lady. I’ll get you a ride home and keep the bike in the shed till morning. Plus, there’s one hell of a thunderstorm rolling in.”
I look at Veronica. “You cool with this? I have a place nearby, actually. That’s why I brought us here. This area’s home.”
“You want me to go home with you?” She looks hesitant, so I reach for her shoulder and lean close.
“Babe, I have a fishing cottage up the way from here. I’ll take the pullout sofa, and you’ll have my room. Scout’s honor.”
“Yes,” she says, her voice steady. “I’ll go home with you.”