16. Tammy
SIXTEEN
TAMMY
Ray had taken Chase to the airport this morning with Frank, which gave me the alone time that I desperately needed.
Since Chase had only been in town for a short while, he and Ray had maximized that time, spending the bulk of it together going over the pub’s break-in and second attempt.
This morning, however, just as Ray was leaving to meet Chase and Frank, he’d told me since I was off tonight, we were going out—as in a date.
“Let’s do dinner tonight,” he said, grabbing his keys from the entry room table—where we had to keep them so Jasper wouldn’t catnap them.
“Sure,” I replied simply, thinking nothing of it. “What place do you want takeout from? What are you in the mood for?”
He shook his head slowly. “No takeout. I’m taking you to dinner. Frank recommended the steakhouse over on Peach Commons Road.”
I’d been to that place once before. It was nice, but you didn’t have to dress up too much.
Since I hadn’t expected it, I just nodded in reply, which I found was becoming a common theme with this man, and I didn’t like it one bit.
Even though he was busy with Chase, we’d still spent every morning this week on my patio drinking coffee. It had become our thing.
It was enjoyable, but it also made me a bit upset. Why couldn’t I have met a man like Ray decades ago instead of my ex-husband?
When I was younger and first married, I had teetered on the idea of kids.
It was what society said I should want, but I hadn’t been one hundred percent sure.
I knew if I was going to, I’d wanted to wait until after I was out of the military since that would make it easier, and I was glad for that, now knowing what an asshole my ex-husband had been.
In the years since, I’d realized the idea of motherhood no longer appealed to me, and I was content being a pet mom.
I’d made peace with it and was very happy being an aunt.
Plus, Jasper was a handful sometimes, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
My sister Lori had wanted a family—the whole shebang.
The kind we never had. She married Donovan, the “safe guy”—the one who worked the safe job, wanted kids, and would never leave her.
Lori had confided in me long ago that she didn’t love him in the traditional sense, but he would never cheat on her and never leave her with the kids like our dad had done, so she was content with that.
I didn’t want that. I’d been divorced and had the battle wounds to prove it. If I married again, it would be for love. Someone I wanted in my life for more than just to care for my kids and help pay the bills.
I understood why my sister chose that way of life, and I didn’t fault her for it because it worked for her, but I wanted something more.
Ray seemed like that could be him, and it scared me. He was dangerous because he ticked every box and more.
Every morning I spent with him, I felt myself drawing closer and closer to him. I felt like a giddy schoolgirl but also nervous as hell.
Ray hadn’t gotten back to the townhouse until just before I jumped into the shower, so we hadn’t gotten to spend any more time together today.
I was both nervous and excited about tonight as I finished getting ready.
I put my hands on my hips and made a slow turn, watching myself in the bathroom mirror. This shirt was perfect. Vivid blue and draped just right so that it looked entirely modest, even though the neckline scooped low.
However, when I leaned slightly down, it was just the right amount of cleavage—a lot.
Perfect.
Ray had only seen me in my pajamas or work attire, which consisted of raggedy jeans and a bar T-shirt. Hopefully he’d like my dark skinny jeans and high heels even better.
My boobs and butt may not be as tight and perky as they used to be in my twenties, but they still looked great, especially in the right shirt and heels. I was only five foot three, so I needed the heels to give me a boost.
I walked out of my room and down the stairs to the kitchen to feed Jasper before we left. I loved him so much, but if you didn’t feed him on time, he became hangry and would wreak havoc in the house. Best to just feed my little hellion early than face the consequences.
My twenty-pound fluffy king was waiting in the kitchen for me, his agitated face letting me know I was moving slowly and he did not approve.
After scooping his food into his dish and refilling his water, I walked over to the living room to make sure I left the TV on for Jasper while we were out. Personally, he fancied The Weather Channel, so that’s what he got.
Steady, rhythmic footfalls sounded from the stairs, and I turned just in time to see Ray turn the corner after the last step. He looked divine. Dark jeans with a black dress shirt—with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off his muscular arms.
He took several moments looking me up and down, the intensity in his gaze practically burning a hole through me. I knew he liked what he saw, but the length of time he spent staring started to make me feel a little uncomfortable.
Was it getting hot in here?
It felt hot in here.
It could be his body heat wafting over to me, but I knew it wasn’t. It was my perimenopausal hormones, which seemed to get an extra charge when he was around.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in heels,” he said with a crooked grin.
“Yeah, well, I’ve reached an age where my mind says, I can do that, but my body says, Not today, old woman. So, I usually just wear sneakers so I don’t trip and fall.”
He smiled at me, clearly appreciating my self-deprecating humor, but then his smile and gaze changed.
He took several steps closer to me and put his hands at my hips, pulling me closer to him. “I like them, so thank you for sacrificing your safety and wearing them for me.”
“I wore them for me, not you,” I told him, even though we both knew I was lying. “It gives me extra height so I can stand tall like the queen I am.”
His smile grew wider before he leaned in and kissed me. There was no tongue. There was no rush. It was gentle, more intimate, but just as delicious as all his others.
He slowly drew back and whispered, his lips still millimeters from mine, “You’re not an old woman, by the way. A beautiful woman, yes, but not old.”
“I’m not bothered by my age, Ray, but I’m also not going to pretend I still look like I’m twenty-five,” I told him. “The great David Bowie once said, ‘Ageing is an extraordinary process whereby you become the person you always should have been.’”
“You’re something else you know that?” He spoke quietly, as if mesmerized by me.
“Yes, and now I’m hungry, so let’s go eat,” I told him, turning around and making my way to grab my jacket and purse.
The restaurant was great. The inside was decorated like a steakhouse in Montana.
Pictures of cattle and cowboys adorned the walls, and high-top booths made you feel closed in for added privacy while you sat on comfy fake leather seats.
The lighting was dark, helping to set the intimate mood this place was known for.
Very subtle country music played in the background—just loud enough to hear the song, but not loud enough to prevent you from carrying on a conversation at your table.
“I was perusing all the books on your shelves,” Ray remarked, sipping his beer. “I noticed you read only two types of books—autobiographies and what look like fantasy.”
“Actually, they’re romantasy, which is romance and fantasy mixed together,” I explained. “I need them for brain breaks.”
“You need romance books to give your brain a break?” he asked.
There was no judgment in his voice, just genuine curiosity.
“I’ve learned that if you hold all your stress in, it leads to increased anxiety, decision fatigue, and burnout,” I informed him.
“Your brain is begging for a break—and ignoring that has real consequences. It’s called cognitive offloading, and it helps me keep my stress in check. I highly recommend it.”
“Sounds interesting,” he said. “I do know reading before bed usually helps me sleep better.”
I nodded. “You know that drained feeling when you’ve made a hundred decisions before nine a.m., managed everyone’s schedules, and still kept your pet alive? That’s when cognitive offloading kicks in.”
Our waiter brought out our appetizer and set it down, and I grabbed a nacho before continuing.
“My romantasy books take me to a new world where I don’t have to do anything but enjoy.
Don’t get me wrong…I also have my trashy telenovela TV shows, too.
They’re not as deep as my books, but they still work at shutting off my brain.
There’s no real plot, just other people with bigger problems than mine—like Sofia’s ex-husband impregnating his cousin at his grandfather’s funeral and being caught by the priest.”
I popped another bite into my mouth. “Even my true crime shows, because someone else did the hard work and solved the crime by the end of the episode.”
“I can see that,” he replied, taking a bite of the nachos as well.
“My dragon smut and trashy telenovelas keep me sane—and less stabby.”
He laughed, nearly choking on his food. After wiping his mouth, he flashed me a million-dollar smile.
We had a lovely dinner, full of engaging conversation—where we’d like to travel to, funny moments from our Army careers, and we even shared embarrassing moments we’d each had involving Frank.
I knew from our morning coffee chats that he and I had a very easygoing flow of banter, and tonight was no different.
At the same time, it felt different. This wasn’t him bringing coffee over to my place in the morning or sitting out on the porch after dinner on one of my off days.
This was a deliberate date, and it felt like it.
There was an easy rhythm to tonight, that connection taking root.
We were getting to know each other in a deeper, bonded way. I knew we already had chemistry—that had been established on night one with him. But this was more about forming attachments and building trust.
I knew I was falling for him, and I found it no longer scared me like it used to.
I’d stopped relying on men years ago. I knew there were good ones out there and not all men were bad, but my father and ex-husband, along with a few I’d dated since, had left a sour taste in my mouth.
Ray didn’t fit that pattern and made it harder to hold on to those assumptions.
He was always open and communicative. I never had to guess what he was thinking. He just said it. It wasn’t like that with other guys, where you had to guess. It was refreshing.
Ray could charm me without much effort. He was my perfect catnip. My kind of poison.
The only downside was that if this didn’t work out long term for us, he had set such unrealistic sex-pectations that it would ruin me for other men.
“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked, yanking me back into the moment.
“Mm-hmm,” I replied, not remembering what he’d asked.
A small laugh escaped my lips before he leaned over and kissed me. It was gentle, seductive, and full of promise, but it ended far too soon.
“You ready to head out, or do you want some dessert?”
I wanted him to be my dessert.
“I’m good to go,” I said, shaking my head a bit more vigorously than was probably required.
I expected him to launch himself at me once we got back to my place—or at least maybe that was my hopes and dreams making me think that way. However, he grabbed two beers and we made our way out to my porch, where we sat and chatted some more.
You’d think eventually we’d run out of topics, but with Ray the conversation once again flowed smoothly.
Time flicked by, and my thoughts had moved to Ray kissing me softly on the lips, his fingers brushing softly against my cheek. My eyes fluttered open to see him crouched next to my chair, smiling at me.
“What?” I looked at him, not understanding what was happening.
“You fell asleep, darlin’. Let’s get you off to bed.”
He helped me up and locked up the house before kissing me goodnight in the kitchen and heading off into his own room.
Huh.
I should have started questioning why he hadn’t tried to lure me into his room or vice versa.
But I was too tired, so instead I put myself to sleep.