12. Chapter Twelve
Chapter Twelve
Meg
“ D ammit!” I cursed, running my hand under a stream of water in the kitchen sink. The stupid knife slipped while I was slicing cauliflower for a vegetable tray. It barely pricked the heel of my hand, yet I was bleeding as if I’d slashed myself to the bone.
I grabbed a paper towel and wrapped it around the cut, applying pressure as I dashed to the bathroom to my mega stash of Band-Aids. I went through them like most people go through tissues. I guess I was a bleeder—and tiny cuts took so long to heal. Once Elaine and I showed up on the same day with Band-Aids wrapped around our pointer fingers. By the time my cut scabbed over, Elaine’s had already healed.
She had all the luck.
But today, I wasn’t about to let a little owie slow me down. Lance ought to be here any minute. I dabbed on some antibiotic ointment and covered the wound with a Band-Aid, waited a few minutes for the blood to overflow, repeated the process like I always had to, then finally I finished the veggie tray and set it on the coffee table.
Everything was ready. Ripper had even been pretty good about keeping his music bearable. The fridge was stocked, the apartment was spotless. I’d already touched up my makeup five times and was getting whiplash from twisting to look out the window, but I didn’t want to just stand in front of it and wait for him to drive up…or did I?
Thank the stars, my internal argument didn’t last long because an older model, gray Toyota Corolla came to a stop alongside the curb.
A Corolla, huh?
My dad always said Toyotas were reliable. I wasn’t disappointed, but I guess I expected something a little more original, like a Jeep or one of those GMC trucks that have all the bells and whistles in the commercials .
When the driver leaned forward to cut the engine, my estrogen levels went into overdrive, my fixation on his Corolla forgotten. Who cared about a car when the man of my dreams had just arrived? I couldn’t help my squeal or my frenetic jogging in place complete with girly flapping hands.
Before I even started running for the door, Maya launched into a cacophony of barking. “Hush!” I shouted. Of course, when the Chihuahua ignored me, I headed outside, shutting the door in her adorable wide-eyed, somewhat crazed face.
“Lance! You made it!” I cried, dashing down the steps and to the curb.
As he closed his car door, he grinned at me, his clothes a rumpled mess, his brown hair a riot of curls and spikes. Yep, this was the same dude I met on the cruise three months ago. He came around the Corolla and opened his arms. “When I found out La Crosse had Octoberfest, there was no way I’d miss it. After all, I have German roots and a thirst for beer.”
It wasn’t exactly the greeting I’d been imagining, but I fell into his embrace and breathed him in—the scent of Ivory soap with an overtone of French fries. “You’re lucky this year. Usually Octoberfest is a week earlier.”
He gave me a peck on the lips. “I’m always lucky, Babe.”
My hands trembled as I led him up the porch stairs to my apartment. Inside, Maya had barked herself to the verge of hysterics. I held up my palm to Lance as I reached for the knob. “Stay there while I corral my attack Chihuahua.”
He laughed as I opened the door, but scuttled backward as she shot outside, barking and growling, her fur standing on end. The imp grabbed his pants leg and shook her entire body. “Whoa, you weren’t kidding!” he said, kicking his foot, trying to dislodge her dagger teeth.
I twisted my dog away and scooped her into my arms. “Sorry! She’s a real sweetheart most of the time but isn’t overly fond of guests.”
“Aw, she’ll like me .” He held his finger beneath her nose. Maya bared her teeth and growled. Lance snapped his hand away. “Will she bite?”
One must never assume anything when it came to Maya. “Once we’re inside, she ought to keep her distance. Just don’t provoke her.”
Because Miss She-Devil Princess was still growling, I kept her in my arms as I showed him inside my colorful, Bohemian-inspired hideaway. The interior might look like a thrown together mismatch, but it took a lot of time to create the perfect combination of controlled chaos .
Lance turned full circle. “Whoa, this place is gnarly.” He looked at my office nook, framed by the tree of life on a purple background. “It reminds me of you.”
“It’s homey.” I kissed the top of Maya’s head and gave her a gentle rub under the chin with my pointer finger. “Did you stop for lunch or eat on the road? Are you hungry?”
He brushed off his shirt, making a few grains of salt flutter to the floor. “I grabbed a burger and fries, but I can always eat.”
I set Maya down and she skulked to her bed in the corner of the living room, keeping her eyes on Lance, growling at him if stepped too near. Such a little charmer.
We nibbled on the veggies I’d set out and drank iced tea while Lance raved about the Ohio State football game he’d listened to on the way up. He had the audacity to complain because once he’d crossed into Wisconsin, he was forced to listen to the Badgers which I had showing on the TV while I was cleaning. Maybe later I’d remind Lance that UW was my beloved alma mater—after we had a chance to reacquaint ourselves.
He checked the Ohio State score on his phone—like he needed to. They always won, which was boring. I’d rather watch a Badger game any day because the outcome wasn’t a for sure thing.
Tapping my foot, I leaned in and watched his thumbs fly across his keyboard. Was Lance ignoring me? Was there something wrong with the pink paisley dress I was wearing?
Holy kamoly, I’d been waiting for this day for weeks, yet if his preoccupation with the score was any indication, Lance was indifferent about our reunion. As for me, I sat twisting a lock of hair around my finger, my lips twisting with all the things I might say next.
Wasn’t he as excited to see me as I was to see him? Not that I expected Lance to immediately jump my bones. But as soon as he stepped out of his car, he acted as if he were meeting an old college buddy rather than a fairly new girlfriend with whom he’d been communicating long distance. Well, the communication had been off and on, but I knew how busy he was.
“So, where’s this Octoberfest? I thought you said we could walk to the grounds from here.” He held up his empty glass of iced tea and clinked the ice. “I need something stronger than this.”
I couldn’t help but glance at my watch. It was only two o’clock in the afternoon—way too early to start drinking. A vision of my father drunk and passed out on the couch shot through my head. Of course, I shook it off. My dad was a big drinker, but he usually didn’t crack open a can of beer until late afternoon—most of the time. But then again, Octoberfest was a major holiday in this town, and if we paced ourselves, we ought to be okay.
Was I overreacting? Was my deflated ego dramatized? Why shouldn’t I be a little hurt since it appeared as if Lance had come to party at the festival rather than to see me? On the other hand, why did I always worry excessively? He probably wanted to do both.
I grabbed my purse and donned my favorite purple jacket with pink and blue flowers and a green border. Maya bid us farewell with a round of howling that we still heard a block away.
Lance held my hand, his stride longer than mine, making me shuffle faster than usual.
“Are you in a hurry?” I asked.
“You bet.” He gave me a wink. “You wanna race?”
“What, are we ten?”
He nudged me forward. “I’ll give you a head start.”
Only this morning I’d read an article about how looking at the world as a child and living in the moment helped to rekindle a sense of wonder into an adult’s life. Sure, I was a little quirky, but I was no runner.
“How about we skip?” I countered. After all, I was wearing ballet flats, not exactly as sturdy as his sneakers.
He gave me a quizzical look, but I wasn’t going to wait. I giggled and surged forward.
At least in my opinion I surged. The dude passed me after the first block, grabbed my hand and practically dragged me onward.
Polka music shook the sidewalk before the fairgrounds came into view. And once we were inside the gates, Lance bought two boot-shaped steins filled with frothy beer. I must have started a thing with the skipping because he proceeded to link arms with me and skip toward the stage, leaving a trail of beer in our wake. A polka band was holding forth while couples dressed in lederhosen and dirndl costumes spun around us.
Lance put our boots on the stage before grabbing me by the waist and launching into the most raucous step-together-step-hop I’d ever done in my life.
Who was this dude?
Sure, I knew he was spontaneous even though we’d only slow danced on the cruise. I had no idea he was so enthusiastic about polkaing, but he whirled me around the floor like he was in a contest and hell-bent on winning. Between sets, he guzzled the beer in his boot. I nursed mine, finishing it about the time they shot off the fireworks from Grandad’s Bluff—a high point on the western cliffs that looked out over the city.
I’d lost count of the number of boots Lance had consumed.
It was after midnight when he held my hand and we walked—more like wove—our way back to my apartment, met by my poor traumatized Chihuahua.
When I came in from taking Maya to go potty, the dude was already out cold, snoring on the couch.
My head dropped forward as I rubbed the back of my neck. So much for a romantic evening.
The next morning, I awoke to the gentle caress of fingertips brushing my scalp. I sighed, stretching, and opening my eyes. Lance held up a Bloody Mary—his hair combed back and wet, his face shiny and clean as if he’d just stepped out of the shower. “Last night was amazing, Babe.”
What had I missed? I glanced at the pillow beside me but that side of the bed had been unused. I don’t think I’d ever met anybody so psyched about Octoberfest, even if he was of German descent—but Lovell wasn’t even a German name.
“Sure, last night was something else,” I replied, gently pushing the drink away. “I’m more of a coffee in the morning girl.”
I don’t know why, but his smile warmed me just like it had on the day we met. “Thought of that, too.” He reached for a steaming mug on the bedside table. “You like it with cream, no sugar, right?”
I scooted up and leaned against the headboard. “You remembered.”
“I remember everything about you, Meg-a-licious.” He nuzzled into my neck. “I’m sorry I flaked on you. I guess the drive took it out of me. You deserve better than that.”
I sipped my coffee, the apology and the peace offering doing a great deal to ease the doubts I’d gone to bed with last night. After all, Lance had driven all the way from Ohio just to spend the weekend with me.
His lips trailed beneath the collar of my V-neck t-shirt. “Tell you what, why don’t we stay in bed all day—make love—watch movies. ”
I closed my eyes and indulged myself in his kisses. “Mm, that sounds amazing. I even have a copy of the Kama Sutra in my bedside drawer. We could cuddle up and read it.”
“Reading is way too boring.” He slid onto the bed beside me, kissing his way under the covers. “I like to watch.”