Chapter 5 #2
“I’m a pretty happy guy, yeah. But I have my ups and downs. Life can be rough at times. That’s true for all of us, not just women who are trying to raise preschoolers on their own.”
“Oh,” I say, sitting back. “I hope I don’t come across like I have a monopoly on hard times.”
“That’s not what I meant at all,” he says, easily. “I mean, I go through hard things—wondering about my future. Questioning myself. Thinking about mistakes I made. We occasionally get into conflicts at work. Sometimes a rescue or medical situation goes sideways. Those things can eat at me.”
“But you don’t let them hold you down for long.”
He’s quiet for a bit. Thoughtful. Seemingly in no rush to answer.
“No. I don’t. I guess I bounce back pretty quickly.”
I smile. “I like that about you.”
His smile is instantaneous and full. “Aha. So you do like me?”
“I do.”
“Good. I like you too—in case I hadn’t made that abundantly clear.”
I smile again. Why not smile? This is my moment in the sun. I may as well get burnt basking in his warmth. I’ll recover from the sting of exposure over the coming week.
“I’m not the average single woman,” I remind him. “I’m a mom.”
“I know that, Angie.” He smiles an almost conspiratorial smile. “I never was under the impression that you were average.”
“EJ.”
He just keeps smiling.
“I’m trying to tell you this doesn’t work like it would if I were someone who didn’t have kids.”
“I know that too.” His face is serious, but softer.
He almost makes me want to toss caution to the wind—almost.
“Well …” I’m about to say something more about how this can never go further—at least not in this season of my life.
But then the waitress arrives with two Mason jars of lemonade on her tray.
She sets them in front of us and as soon as she turns to walk away, I take a long sip.
The drink is cool and tart and sweet. And it’s just the interruption I need to keep me from laying out the law of the land like a wet blanket.
As if he can read my thoughts, EJ says, “We’re just on a date, Angie. One date. Tonight.”
How did this go from dinner to a date?
The word sounds so much more weighty and real.
Does that mean he wants to kiss me?
Do I want to kiss him?
I lick my lips. EJ’s eyes track the motion.
He picks up his glass and drinks a gulp of lemonade.
“Good stuff,” he says, setting it back on the table.
The waitress circles back and EJ asks her for a few more minutes.
We sit silently across from one another, studying our menus. I don’t want to get anything too expensive. I start to turn to the soup and salad options, glancing quickly over the chicken dishes.
“The steak here is so good,” EJ says.
“I remember them having a good soup too.”
“They do.”
He looks up at me. His eyes narrow. “You’re not getting soup.”
“What if I want soup?”
“As a side?”
“For my meal.” I set my menu down and stare at EJ.
He doesn’t miss a beat. “Angie, are you hungry?”
I tell him the truth. “I’m hungry. I usually eat a much earlier dinner with the boys.”
“One hundred and eighty nights out of the year,” he says with a playful smile.
“Exactly.”
“Please order a whole meal,” he says. “Whatever you want on the menu, get it.”
I don’t know why his words affect me the way they do.
I feel like I’m a pat of butter, melting on a warm roll.
He melts me from the inside out. That’s why I’m here in the first place.
He’s too hard to resist with that small-town boy charm, his thoughtfulness and persistence.
He’s a triple threat. And I don’t even know if I want to be strong enough to resist him.
The waitress comes back and we each order a steak dinner with all the sides.
When she leaves, EJ asks me about my day.
And he listens to all the details—eyes fixed on me, asking me questions, laughing.
Then he tells me about his day—a few medical calls and a really funny call when Cooter tried to dry his laundry on his grill to save on electricity. Nothing burnt except Cooter’s clothes.
We laugh, and then EJ’s eyes soften and he reaches across the table, placing his hand over mine. The gesture happens so innocently and naturally, I barely think a thing of it until he gives my hand a light squeeze and a slow rush of warmth spreads up my arm.
“Thank you,” he says.
“For what?”
“For saying yes to tonight.”
“I was going to have to say yes at some point.”
“I wasn’t so sure.”
“Riiight.” I smile at him. “I’m pretty sure you knew you’d convince me.”
“I really wasn’t certain,” he says. “But I couldn’t be happier.”
Our meal comes and our conversation shifts to shared memories. We went to school together, but he was two grades ahead of me. Still, we were always on the periphery of each other’s lives. EJ tells me things he remembers about me and then I tell him some stories of my own.
By the time we finish our meal, I’m too full to even consider dessert, so EJ gets the check and I sit back in my chair, watching him as he signs the paper and hands it to the waitress, and then turns to look me in the eyes.
“I had a really great night,” he says.
“I did too. The most fun I’ve had in a long time.”
“Really?” He sounds proud of himself and I like that he is.
“Yes, really.”
“So, you definitely should never do this again,” he says.
“Definitely.” I agree, smiling. “We should quit while we’re ahead.”
“I mean,” he reaches over again, setting his hand over mine and rubbing lightly. “A second date might flop. And then you’d know this was a fluke—some kind of one-off.”
“Exactly,” I say.
Though, the real reason I can’t do this again has nothing to do with a possible flop. I can’t imagine time with EJ being anything but fun and easy.
“So, we’ll just keep it at one,” he says, giving my hand a light squeeze.
“One,” I say, but my heart clenches just the slightest.
“Okay,” he nods and stands, not putting up the fight I’m used to from him.
He gently places his hand on the small of my back, guiding me out through the tables and to the front door.
Then he thanks the hostess and holds the door open for me.
I step through and EJ moves his hand from my back to my hand, clasping it in his.
All of his gestures tonight have been sweet and attentive.
A girl could get way too used to this kind of treatment.
But it’s more than the gestures. EJ makes me feel … safe … special.
“This was really nice,” I tell him on the way home.
“I’m glad you had a good night.”
“And you’re okay with one night?” I ask him.
“Are you offering me another?” he asks, glancing my way and wagging his brows.
“You stinker,” I say to him. “Are you using reverse psychology on me?”
“Not at all. You said one date. I’m doing everything in my power to honor that. But if you want to give me another date, I’m not coming anywhere near stopping you.”
“And then what?” I ask him.
“Whatever you want, Angie. Another? Or no more. You get to hold the steering wheel. Your foot is over the gas and the brake. I’ll come along for the ride as long as you’ll have me.”
For as long as I’ll have him … and then what? Does he realize what he’s saying? I’m a package deal.
I’m quiet, watching the houses in the neighborhood next to mine pass outside the windows.
I’m about to say something when EJ says, “I know your life isn’t simple, Angie.”
I nod.
“And I’m not trying to complicate it.” He slows when he reaches my street, glancing over at me.
And that look is everything.
“Let me get back to you,” I say softly.
“I can do that,” he says. And his smile is so wide it shines through the dusky darkness of the truck cab.
I huff out a soft laugh.
A second date doesn’t have to mean anything.
Mom’s voice echoes through my head: You deserve some fun. Don’t make it such a big deal.
EJ parks the truck, comes around and opens my door and walks me up the path to the porch. The lights in the front room are off. That means the boys are in bed and Mom’s probably in her room or the family room at the back of the house.
The porch light is on, casting a golden-yellow glow over EJ’s features. He turns to face me in front of the door. Then he reaches out and brushes my hair away from my face. His fingertips trail down my neck and shoulder and then down my arm. When he reaches my hand, he interlaces our fingers.
“Thanks for tonight. I know I already said that, but I want you to know it meant the world to me that you gave me a chance.”
“I’d like to do it again,” I confess before I think better of it.
“Would you now?” he teases. “Well, I’m a pretty busy guy.”
I laugh softly. He’s always making me laugh. And it comes so easily. Everything about being with him feels easy. If only it were.
“Well, check your schedule and see what might fit,” I tell him.
“Tomorrow?” he asks.
“Tomorrow?” I feel my brows raise high on my forehead.
“Oh. No. Not tomorrow. You’ve got a slushie and corndog date with your boys.”
“I do.”
“Let me know when, Angie. My nights are pretty routine unless I’m out with the guys. And I’d ditch them for you in a heartbeat.”
“You’re awfully sweet,” I tell him.
“Truck would disagree.”
“Maybe you need to take him to steak.”
“Nah. I’m good,” he laughs.
Then he leans in. And I think he’s going to kiss me. My eyes flutter shut in anticipation. But instead of EJ’s lips meeting mine, his face turns slightly and his stubble brushes my cheeks. And then his lips land there, soft and warm. He leaves a kiss on my cheek.
“I’m looking forward to next time,” he whispers before he pulls back.
I shudder slightly—a soft buzz running through me.
I reach out and pull EJ into a hug, murmuring “Thank you,” into his chest.
His heartbeat is strong under my cheek—the same cheek he just kissed. The scent of his cologne is mellower, more blended into a smell that’s just him. He wraps his arms around me and holds me to himself.
I sigh. And his grip firms just the slightest, holding me closer.
“I thought you were going to kiss me,” I tell him.