Grant
What am I doing?
What the fuck am I doing?
All rational thought has left the building. I don’t even care how old she is or that she’s almost, kind of family. When I saw Audrey walk out of that bathroom looking hotter than any woman I’ve ever laid eyes on before, I knew I was in trouble.
Then she pulled that shit in the truck.
I was perfectly fine knowing that I had a crush on her as long as she continued to look at me as some old guy and had absolutely no interest in me. It would have been way easier that way. But then she burst that theory wide open when she acknowledged this chemistry between us and how I probably shouldn’t be telling her how beautiful she is, but doing it anyway. And then she looked at me with those please fuck me eyes in the truck, and I was done. The only one getting fucked here is me because if I lay one hand on that girl, my brother is going to have my ass.
And here I am, at the table, sitting right across from him with my hand against her leg and her fingers in mine. In my defense, I could feel the hurt radiating off of her with the way her mother was treating her. Dismissing her art as a useless hobby, talking about her in the third person like she’s not right here. I wanted to pull Audrey away from this table and take her far away.
Does Mel not see how brilliant her daughter is? Does she not see that while other girls her age are petty, flippant, and immature, Audrey is bright, confident, and brilliant. I just wish she wouldn’t hold back when she wants to say something. Twice today I’ve caught her holding her tongue.
When the food comes out, we have to pull our hands away from each other, and I instantly hate it. Holding her hand was an instant bond between us. Now it just feels cold. While we eat, everyone carries on with normal conversation that Audrey and I barely participate in.
“So, , tell us about your resort,” one of Audrey’s brothers says over his glass of red wine. I was the only guy at the table to order a beer, but hey, it was on the menu, and I’m sure as hell not drinking merlot.
“Well, resort is a fancy word. It’s a dozen small cabins on the lake. We rent them out to mostly fishermen in the summertime.”
“We?” Audrey says, trying to look nonchalant.
“Well…just me really. I hire a few people to help when it gets busy.”
“Sounds fun,” she replies, and suddenly it feels like we’re the only two people in the room. One of her brothers is going on and on about a boat he owns, but I’m not paying attention.
“You’ll have to come out this summer when we’re open,” I say to Audrey.
“I’d love that,” she answers looking into my eyes.
Oh yeah, I’m fucked.
After dinner, we all start to head back to the house when one of her brother’s kids asks to see Christmas lights and the whole group agrees on that idea. I look at Audrey who’s walking toward my truck.
I assume she’d rather skip the lights, but I don’t want to admit that I would almost like to see them with her. I don’t know why. This really isn’t my thing, and maybe I just want to be in the truck alone with her for longer.
She tries to read my expression before finally turning to the rest of the group and announcing, “Yeah, we’re in.”
Everyone piles into their cars, and I feel a sudden burst of relief when no one requests to ride with us. I want to be alone with her. I won’t touch her or do anything crazy, but I just want to be alone with her.
So her brothers get in their giant SUV with their wives and two kids. Roger, Mel, and her parents get in their car, leaving Audrey with me.
The minute she and I are alone again, the elephant in the room is back. I touched her leg at dinner. I held her hand!
Starting the truck, I let the rest of the cars go first before I follow. They can still see us through the windshield, so I keep my composure as I put the truck into drive. I keep a good distance behind Roger’s car, but my hand is twitching to touch her again. Christmas music plays quietly on the radio.
Finally, I’m unable to keep it any longer. “I’m sorry about the restaurant,” I blurt out.
Her head turns in my direction. “Sorry for what?”
“For touching your leg. That was inappropriate.”
“I don’t think it was inappropriate,” she replies. Just then we reach a drive-through Christmas light display. As we start to move through the streets, she turns up the music just a touch. Santa Baby plays through the cab.
“I liked you touching my leg,” she mumbles almost so lightly I don’t hear it. We’re both looking at the lights, and goddammit, it’s actually nice. For two people who hate Christmas, I hate to admit how much I’m enjoying this with her.
“It’s inappropriate, Audrey,” I add in flatly.
“Again, I don’t care.” This time, she looks at me, and I glance at her, and I’m sure that if I wasn’t in a moving vehicle, I’d kiss her. I’d go to hell for it, but I’d do it anyway.
“I’m too old for you,” I whisper. In this dim light with the Christmas lights twinkling over her ruby red locks, she looks even more beautiful.
“That’s not fair,” she protests. Now, she’s not even looking at the lights. Her gaze is trained on me, and I can’t stop myself from reaching over the center console to slide her hair through my fingers.
“I’m sorry, Audrey, but life isn’t fair sometimes. I had fun today, but you’re my brother’s step-daughter. He’d kill me, and I’m just guessing here, but so would your mom.”
She exhales, letting her shoulders slump as she turns to face forward. “Then do me a favor and stop being so fucking nice to me.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t do that,” I reply, feeling like the biggest asshole in the world.
“I hate Christmas,” she mutters, and then I remember, so do I.