Chapter 13
Hunter continued shading the bottom of the blue-and-white ceramic bowl. He thought they would be drawing the apples today,
but Britt focused on the bowl first. He’d had no idea how colors could be used for different effects, and most of them had
to do with light or the absence of it. Ninety minutes had gone by, and he was still working on the bottom of the bowl.
Britt leaned over and inspected his progress. “That looks good.”
He couldn’t help but breathe in her scent—clean, a little flowery, but nothing overwhelming. Definitely alluring. He cast
a side glance at her as she continued to evaluate his drawing, which wasn’t much of anything. As far as he could tell, she
didn’t wear any makeup. And when she’d made a comment about not liking exercise, he noticed her insecurity about her figure.
He thought her body was just right.
“We can stop now and finish up the bowl next week.” Her gaze moved up to his face.
He marveled at how different she looked when she was completely relaxed, like she was now. Even on her channel she didn’t
have the same gleam in her eyes or the easy smile he was seeing in front of him. She seemed completely... comfortable.
“It’s up to you.” He wasn’t in any hurry to leave.
She paused and looked at her watch, then at the apples. “We should stop.”
“Okay.” He tried to hide his disappointment by poking the pencils back into the box. It wasn’t just that he didn’t want to leave her, but he really was enjoying the lesson.
“You can take those with you if you want,” she said. “And you should snap a picture of the still life. You can practice during
the week.”
“Yes, Ms. Branch.” He gave her a salute, and grinned when she smiled.
As he took the picture, she started neatly putting her pencils away. “Funny, I never thought anyone would ever call me Ms.
Branch. That’s my mom. She’s a teacher.”
He stilled, his phone facing the apples. Ms. Branch? Didn’t he have a teacher named— Oh, wow. Ninth grade, remedial math.
He’d only had her for a semester before he was suspended and sent off to another school. He didn’t even remember what he’d
done to get into trouble. Had he been drunk? High? Probably both.
Familiar shame filled him as he looked at Britt, the urge to dull his feelings almost overwhelming. He hadn’t experienced
that temptation for almost two years. Now he’d felt it twice in several days, the first being after he’d talked to his father.
He’d reserved the tux and gone to work, but he couldn’t stop thinking about how he was separated from his family, and it was
his own fault.
He’d been on edge ever since, enough that his coworkers and roommate noticed it. Sawyer had asked if he’d been drinking again,
and Hunter truthfully denied it. But he had to admit to himself he’d been thinking about it. A lot.
He glanced at Britt, who was still focused on carefully sliding the pencils inside the box. Just being around her made him feel better. But the fact that he knew her mother was one of his teachers, and an eyewitness to the grand beginnings of his immature, self-destructive behavior, rattled his nerves. If Britt learned about that or anything else regarding his past, she wouldn’t just think he was a creep but a complete reprobate.
At one time, he was.
Britt closed the lid on the slim box and picked up the rest of the materials, including his drawing. “We’ll keep these here,”
she said, adding her beautifully finished rendering of the apple bowl on top of the pile.
“Sure.” He watched her walk to the storage room, and when she went inside, his head fell into his hands. A gin and tonic would
be good right now. Or just straight gin. He needed a distraction.
She came back into the room and he lifted his head, calm washing over him. She was just what he needed. Her hair with its wild bun and seventies-colored scarf wrapped around it gave her a bohemian flair, a contrast to the conservative
checkered shorts and plain white shirt she was wearing. He had yet to see her hair completely down. She always wore it up
in some fashion, including in her videos. He wondered exactly how long it was, how wild it was, how it would feel in his hands—
“Maude made us a snack.” She walked over to a little table with a teapot, cups, and a round cake holder on top. “It’s not
chamomile or Kava, but Earl Grey is good too. Would you like some?”
Her words brought him out of his thoughts, and he ran his hands over his thighs. He didn’t need that kind of distraction. If she knew he was attracted to her... game over. “Sounds great.” He popped up from the chair and
went to stand beside her as she poured tea into the cups. “I can cut the cake if you’d like.”
She glanced at him. “Sure.”
They carried their tea and cake to the table and sat down. Hunter took a big bite, and orange sweetness exploded in his mouth.
“This is incredible.”
“They always are.” Britt pressed her fork into her slice. “Some times I wonder if Maude puts a little extra something in her baked goods.”
He stilled. “Does she?”
Britt shook her head. “It’s an inside joke. Maude still has her D.A.R.E. T-shirt from the eighties.”
“Dare?”
“To keep kids off drugs. It was a campaign thing back then.” She paused. “I don’t know how well it worked. I know it didn’t
for—” She quickly shoved a bite of cake in her mouth. “Mmm. Good!”
Her muffled exclamation seemed a little exaggerated. Then again, perhaps not. It was fantastic cake. He took another bite,
his jitters completely disappearing. “I feel like I’m at a tea party.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“I’ve never been to one before. Only seen them in movies. But I’m up for an adventure.”
She smirked. “I wouldn’t call Earl Grey and orange dream cake an adventure.”
“Adventures are what you make them.”
Maude glided into the room, holding a feather duster the size of her head. “Don’t mind me,” she sang, waving the duster around
in a weak attempt to clean. “Just tidying up in here.”
Britt looked at Hunter and rolled her eyes.
He grinned. “This cake is delicious,” he said to Maude, almost finished with his slice.
She turned, her eyes twinkling with delight. “Why, thank you,” she said, punctuating her words with flourishes of the duster.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” Her gaze darted from Hunter to Britt, then back again, her smile growing even wider.
Britt leaned forward. “Sorry,” she whispered as Maude turned around and started faux dusting again.
He scooted closer to her and lowered his voice. “About what?”
Maude started to hum a tune that sounded vaguely familiar. Then she softly sang, “Take a chance on me...”
Britt sat up. “Really, Maude? ABBA?”
“Oh... sorry.” She looked over her shoulder with feigned surprise. “I didn’t realize I was singing out loud.”
Hunter burst out in laughter. “I thought I’d heard that song before. Been a long time, though.”
But Britt wasn’t laughing. She pulled out her phone and started typing on it.
“What are you doing?” Maude asked, fully facing them now.
“Telling X to come get you.” Britt peered up at her.
She held up the feather duster. “No need, I’m leaving.” She breezed toward the door. “You two have fun—”
“Bye, Maude!” But Britt was smiling now. After Maude left, she leaned back against the chair.
“She’s something else,” Hunter said, still chuckling.
“That she is.” Britt giggled. “That feather duster was hilarious.”
“Yep.” He picked up his small teacup. It felt like a toy in his hand. He took a sip and promptly set it down.
“Still don’t like tea?” she asked.
“Affirmative. But I do like coffee.” He hesitated before saying his next words. He didn’t want to push her before she was
ready, but since she wasn’t tense, she might be willing to agree. “It’s time for your lesson now,” he said. “What do you think
about going to a café with me?”
***
Britt felt her shoulders scrunch up. Unbelievable. Here she was having a great time with Hunter, and she was only slightly annoyed with Maude’s obvious attempt to spy on them. That had disappeared when she realized Hunter wasn’t bothered at all. He had the best laugh too. Did this man have any flaws?
But one mention of going out in public, and she was back where she started—anxious, nervous, and on the verge of perspiring.
How attractive.
He was sitting close to her now, and he surprised her by moving toward her a few inches more, his gaze holding hers. “You
can say no. I won’t mind, and I won’t judge. But I think it would be a good thing for you. I know this small café that’s off
the beaten path. There isn’t room for a lot of people.” He glanced at her teacup, then back at her. “I’m sure they’ll have
Earl Grey.”
Her shoulders lowered slightly, and she couldn’t pull her eyes from his. The irises were so captivating up close, full of
varying shades of brown and green. And those long lashes... perfect. She wanted to say yes. Badly. What was stopping her?
Me. I’m stopping me.
His smile was as gentle as his words. “Maybe another time.”
She started to nod, then stopped. What was she doing? This stunning, kind man was trying to help her. She had to meet him
halfway. “I’ll go,” she said, sitting on her hands again.
His grin sent a tingle straight to her toes. “Excellent. You’ll have to drive, though. I don’t have an extra helmet on me
today.”
“Good, because I’m never getting on a motorcycle.”
“Never say never.” He stood and picked up his empty plate and almost-full teacup.
“Oh, I can definitely say never. Because it’s never going to happen.” She joined him, and they set the dishes by the cake.
“Maude will get these,” she said, turning toward him.
Most of their in-person interactions had been when she or both of them were seated. This time she was paying attention to their height difference. The top of her bun was level with his sternum, and she had to look up at him. She’d already noticed his slightly scruffy whiskers, but now that they were standing close to each other again, she wondered what they would feel like against her skin. She’d never touched a man’s face before. Not even her father’s—at least not that she remembered.
Blinking, she got a grip. Staring at his stubble was weird, and she didn’t want to come across as more peculiar than she already
was. “I-I’ll grab my purse and we can go.”
“Lead the way.”
When they reached the front of the store, X was standing behind the counter reading a homeopathic magazine. He was the only
one in sight. “Where did Maude go?” Britt asked.
“I sent her on an errand.” He put the magazine down. “A long errand.”
Hunter chuckled. “Looks like you have your hands full, X.”
X grinned. “Almost fifty years and counting. I wouldn’t want it any other way. You two heading out?”
“Yes.” Her hand went to her shirt hem.
In one smooth move, Hunter entwined his fingers with hers. “Heard of Yo Jo’s?”
X thought for a second. “Don’t believe I have. Coffee?”
“Yep. That’s where we’re going.”
Hunter was still holding her hand like it was no big deal, and X either didn’t see that they were holding hands or, unlike
his wife, decided not to make a commotion over it. But to Britt, it was a massive deal. She’d never held a man’s hand before
either. And Hunter’s was delightfully warm. A little rough, as expected from his job. Also, all engulfing.
The tingle that had traveled through her earlier felt like a lightning bolt, making it hard for her to remember that he was helping her with her anxiety, not anything else. Still, holding his hand was thrilling .
A customer walked into the store, making X’s eyebrows rise with surprise. It was Monday, after all. With a nod to Britt and
Hunter, he hurried over to her. “Welcome,” he said with a big grin. “How can I help you?”
As X and the customer conversed, Hunter led Britt outside. Although it was close to five o’clock, there wasn’t a cloud in
the sky and it was still hot. He shielded his eyes with his free hand as they stepped off the sidewalk.
Britt glanced at their hands still together, unsure what to do. Surely he hadn’t forgotten he was still holding it. But there
was no reason to anymore.
He dropped her hand and headed for the car. “Still a hot one, isn’t it?”
She nodded, a little disheartened that they weren’t walking hand in hand anymore. She pressed her key fob to unlock the car.
Feeling like she had to address the handholding, she said, “Thanks.”
“For?” He walked to the passenger side.
“Keeping me from stretching out my shirt.”
He smiled. “My pleasure.”
For a split second, she thought he meant it.
***
Amy stood in her bathroom and applied a swipe of lipstick to her lips. Tantalizing Taupe. A misnomer if she ever saw one.
It was her go-to, a utilitarian shade that was the exact opposite of tantalizing. Now that she was looking at her reflection,
the color screamed High School Math Teacher.
She had a deep, rich red in her collection, but she’d only worn it twice and it was probably dried out. Tantalizing Taupe would have to do. She fluffed her silver-streaked brown chin-length bob and took a quick inventory of her outfit, trying to forget she’d spent way more time picking it out than she should have for meeting a friend at the movies. She’d landed on cropped tan chinos, a mint button-down blouse, and navy blue sandals, and she would bring a dark-blue sweater with her to wear in the theater.
“Here we go,” she said, then gave her reflection a thumbs-up.
She got in her car and backed out of the driveway. Britt had told her she was going to K&Bs again today. It was almost six,
and she wasn’t back yet. Maybe she was working on an art project with Maude and X. That was usually the case when she spent
a lot of time at the shop.
Over the past week they hadn’t talked much. Britt had been busy with work and trying to figure out what to do for Savannah’s
shower, and Amy had, in a moment of insanity, decided to mulch her flower beds and fell into bed early each night, exhausted.
She’d popped a couple of Tylenol Extra Strengths before she left the house.
As she drove to the Mango Movieplex, she once again wondered what she was doing. No matter how many times she told herself
this was just an ordinary outing to a movie, she knew she was fooling herself. It wasn’t a date either. But what did you call
going out with a handsome single man who also didn’t want to date? Friendship wasn’t the correct term. Rendezvous with an
acquaintance? Hanging out with a buddy?
Why label it?
She blew out a breath and turned into the parking lot. That was the correct conclusion. No labels or expectations. Just two adults—middle-aged adults—having a good time. Still, she took one more peek at her face and hair in the mirror, made sure she had nothing stuck in her teeth or hanging out her nose, and got out of the car. Immediately she was hit with a blast of heat, and it was only May. The next few months would be brutal. Otherwise known as summer in Texas.
Amy scanned the lot for his Mercedes, and found it parked in the row in front of her. She laid her sweater over her forearm,
adjusted her purse strap, and headed to the building. When she walked into the cool theater foyer, she was glad for the relief
and to see Max standing a few feet away, looking like he came straight from an AARP magazine shoot.
“Hi,” he said, striding toward her. He adjusted his black-framed glasses, and whatever woodsy cologne he wore, it was nice.
Like her, he was dressed casually—white T-shirt, casual gray jacket, wheat-colored pants, slip-on canvas shoes. He took a
step toward her, as if he were going to hug her, or maybe kiss her cheek. Then he halted and glanced down at his shoes before
saying, “Glad you could make it.”
“Me too.” Neither of them needed to be ill at ease, so she leaned over and gave him a peck. “Thanks for inviting me.”
It was the right thing to do because he immediately gave her a carefree smile. “Ready to eat some overpriced junk food and
enjoy some black-and-white suspense?”
“I’m always up for junk food. We’ll see about the suspense.”
They both ordered popcorn and a drink. Amy also got Junior Mints, and she noticed Max skipped the Milk Duds. When it was time
to pay, she was relieved he didn’t insist on buying her food. By the time they went into their theater, there were still ten
minutes left before the show started.
“Back, front, or middle?” he asked.
The theater only contained a handful of people. “I like the middle,” she said.
He allowed her to go in front of him, and she picked two seats that were as close to smack dab in the middle as possible.
Two young women were already seated in the actual center seats.
They sat down and settled in, some older Top 40 hits playing in the background while the screen flashed local advertising.
She took a sip of her drink. “I can’t remember the last time I saw a movie in the theater,” she said. “Maybe with my friend
Laura? Must not have been that great of a movie, since I really can’t recall.”
“Crystal and I used to go a lot.” He stared at the popcorn bag in his lap for a moment, then shook his head. “I told myself
I wasn’t going to talk about her tonight.”
“Hey.” She touched his arm. “You can talk about her all you want.”
He turned to her, his smile warm. “Thanks, Amy. I know I need to move on, it’s just that everything still reminds me of her.
Even after all this time.”
“I get it.” She set her Junior Mints on her armrest. “Daniel and I have been divorced for twenty years, and I haven’t seen
or talked to him for almost as long. That night at karaoke brought up memories. Terrible ones, but that’s par for the course.
We didn’t have a relationship like yours and Crystal’s.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. There was a time I did love him. And for the first few years, we had some great times. We also had Britt. So not everything was horrible.” As she was talking, she remembered the first time Daniel had taken her to a movie—one of those nineties teen comedies that were so popular at the time. She was sixteen, he was seventeen, and she could still remember how he kept inching his hand closer to hers, so slowly she almost grabbed it just to get their first handholding experience over with. But then he linked his fingers with hers, and he didn’t let go until the credits.
Amy shook off the memory. “Now here I go, talking about my ex.”
“In a way it’s inevitable.” He picked up a few pieces of popcorn. “They were an important part of our lives.”
She nodded, but disagreed about Daniel being important to her—at least not from the fourth year of their marriage until their
divorce. He’d left her to raise Britt on her own and had little impact on their daughter’s upbringing. “How was work last
week?”
“Busy.” He finished chewing the popcorn and swallowed. “Then again, it’s always busy. Are you enjoying your time off?”
“I’m getting a lot of projects done.” She told him about the weeding and mulching, and that she’d also planted some annuals.
“You like gardening then.”
“I hate gardening.” She opened the box of mints and offered him one. He shook his head. “But I like having a neat, colorful
landscape and I can’t afford to hire help.” That last part slipped out, and she instantly wanted to take it back. “I mean,
I could, but I prefer to save the money.”
“You’re not...” He didn’t finish, but looked at her, concerned.
“In financial trouble? No. I make a good salary, and Britt pays rent and all her bills. When Daniel and I bought the house,
we got a good deal. I’m fine.” She grinned. “I’m just cheap.”
“Nothing wrong with that. I’ve been known to pinch a penny or two.”
“Let me guess, you got your Mercedes on sale.”
He chuckled. “No, I paid full price. Of course, the dealership makes it seem like you get a deal, but we all know how that works. I don’t even really like it that much. I’d rather drive something more practical.”
She side-eyed him, wondering if he was trying to downplay his wealth to make her feel better. “Then why don’t you?”
“I’ve got an ’83 Corolla in my garage. Still runs and has over three hundred thousand miles on it. I keep it to remind me
of when I was working three jobs while going to college.” He crossed his ankle over his knee. “It also needs a paint job and
the inside smells like an ’83 Corolla. If I ever drove it to work or the courthouse or pretty much anywhere else... let’s
just say people would be wondering why their lawyer and/or colleague couldn’t afford a better car.”
“Ah. Got it.” His explanation made sense, but she still wasn’t sure he was being honest about not liking the car. Not that
he was lying to her, but it’s just that she couldn’t imagine not enjoying a luxury car if she could afford one.
“But if you ever want to take a spin in an old clunker, let me know.” He grinned. “Or a highfalutin Mercedes.”
She laughed. “Let me see, which one should I pick?”
His smile diminished a little. “I’m serious, Amy. Just say the word, and I’ll pick you up.”
The theater darkened and the previews started. But she was still looking at him... and still smiling. “I just might take
you up on it.”