2. 2
It fills my head with thoughts I should not be having about a guy who is a total stranger.
“Thanks.” I clear my throat while trying to ignore the flutter in my lower belly. It’s not something I’ve experienced in a very long time, so it’s difficult to disregard.
“You’re welcome.” He steps out of my space, allowing me to breathe once again. “Ready?” His gaze finds mine, and I wonder if it’s the alcohol or him that is making me feel suddenly too warm. “Or should I check that the coast is clear first?” He grins, and I can’t help but smile at him.
“If she hasn’t shown up yet, she’s not going to.” I scoot by him out of the pantry and smile at the staff as we pass. Exiting the kitchen, I head toward the patio, where I know there is a bar and food. Two things I need desperately.
“How about I buy you a drink?” he asks, stepping ahead of me to get the door.
“It’s an open bar.”
“It’s the thought that counts,” he drawls, making me laugh as I step outside, but my laughter quickly dies off when everyone turns to look in our direction, including Matthew and the woman he has his arm wrapped around. She’s very pretty and very young—much younger than me. Even though at thirty-two, I wouldn’t consider myself old by any means. I know I told my mom that I’m glad he brought a date, but I honestly wasn’t sure how I would feel when I actually saw him with someone else. But as I take the two of them in, there is no jealousy… or any emotion, really.
“There’s my girl.” My dad appears with a smile on his face, cutting off my view of Matthew.
Where most people only see the politician that my father is, I see the guy who taught me how to ride a bike and the one who showed up to every single dance recital I had. He’s the man who used to tuck me into bed each night and read to me in funny voices, and the person who would make me hot cocoa or a bowl of ice cream when I had a bad day. The one man who had the power to make things better just by being there.
“Hey, Daddy.” I fall into his embrace, and his arms wrap around me tightly.
“Are you okay?” he asks, just loud enough for me to hear.
“Yeah.”
“You sure?” He pulls back to look me in the eye.
“Yes.”
“All right,” he says softly, his eyes scanning my face. “You look beautiful.”
“Thanks.” I roll my eyes, and he smiles before looking at the man at my side.
“Dayton.” He holds out his hand after he lets me go. “I see you’ve met my daughter.”
“We ran into each other inside.”
“I hope you’re not corrupting her.”
“Not yet,” Dayton replies, and Dad studies him for a long moment before he shakes his head and smiles.
“No, I’m more inclined to worry about my Franny corrupting you, Calloway.”
“Who is Francisca corrupting?” Matthew asks, and my spine straightens while Dad’s smile slides away and his jaw goes hard.
His reaction to Matthew isn’t a surprise. Where my mother has been dead set on the idea of Matthew and me getting back together, my dad told me the minute I brought up asking for a divorce that if I wasn’t happy, I shouldn’t waste my time and I should never look back.
Then again, when Matthew and I got together, he wasn’t happy about it. He thought I could do better from the get-go, and each and every time we broke up and got back together, he’d pray—out loud for everyone to hear—that the breakup would stick.
Even on my wedding day, he offered to help me run if I had cold feet. I should have taken him up on that offer, but at that time, I was so sure about my future with Matthew, so sure I was doing the right thing.
“No one,” Dad tells him, then looks around. “What happened to your date?”
“She had to use the restroom,” Matthew says, not phased in the slightest by my father’s tone or demeanor. Turning his attention to me, my ex wraps his hand around my hip and leans forward, touching his lips to my cheek. “Francisca, you look beautiful as always.”
“Thanks,” I mumble, shifting on my heels, uncomfortable with the intimate way he greeted me when we haven’t been intimate in a very long time.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Dayton says quietly, placing his hand against my lower back. His touch seems to burn through the material of my dress, and I catch Matthew’s eyes narrow on where Dayton’s hand is. “I promised Franny a drink.”
“Of course.” Dad leans down to kiss my cheek. “Go on. I’ll come find you in a bit.”
“Sure.” I let Dayton lead me away toward the bar, leaving Matthew without another glance.
“So that’s the ex-husband?” Dayton asks quietly as we stand in line with everyone else, waiting to get a drink.
“That’s him.”
“I’m guessing he didn’t want the divorce.”
“I don’t know about that,” I mumble, feeling uncomfortable with this conversation while I can feel everyone watching us and even listening in to hear what we are talking about. I’m sure they’re trying to figure out who Dayton is or making assumptions about the two of us after that interaction with Matthew. They don’t know he was a total stranger to me less than an hour ago.
“Hmmm.”
“You seem to know my dad well,” I change the subject.
“We met when I started working for the district attorney and have played golf together a few times since then.”
“That’s why he seems to like you so much.”
“Golf?”
“Yes, that’s his favorite hobby, and anyone who golfs gets extra brownie points. Though…” I look up at him. “My dad is pretty good at reading people since there are constantly men and women vying for his attention because of his position. He might also find you refreshing since you haven’t gotten the robotic personality download all of these other ‘Stepfords’ have.”
“I’m assuming that’s a compliment.”
“It is.” We step up to the bar, and he orders a beer after I ask for a glass of red wine. With our drinks in hand, I walk over to the table set up with lots of finger foods and a whole section that is just dips, cheeses, crackers, fruits, and nuts. I start to make myself a plate, and Dayton does the same. I’m starving, but even normally, I could live off charcuterie, so I fill my plate until it’s almost overflowing.
“Where do you want to sit?” he asks, looking around.
“You don’t have to stay with me. I won’t feel offended if you want to go mingle,” I tell him quietly, but not because I’m not enjoying his company. Actually, I feel at ease in his presence. I just know that he didn’t come here for me.
“Where do you want to sit?” he repeats, like I haven’t spoken, and I look around the covered patio that has filled with even more people since we came outside.
“I know a place.” I lead him down the steps. It’s a beautiful night, and with the moon just a sliver, you can see every star that is out once we get far enough away from the brightly lit patio. For being April, the weather is nice. It’s been this way for the last few days, so there is still a touch of warmth in the air left over after the sun has set.
Walking to one of the oversized lounge beds near the pool, which is lit up a pretty blue that glows in the darkness surrounding it, I kick off my heels and place my wine on the small table. When I take a seat, I stretch out my legs and cross my ankles, feeling my cheeks heat when I find his eyes on the exposed skin of my thighs. I bite my lip, then place my plate on my lap and dig into my food, pretending not to watch as he takes off his suit jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing tattoos that I never would’ve guessed he was hiding under his clean-cut exterior. But I can’t seem to drag my eyes away. There is something compelling about him, magnetic even. And I can’t figure out if it’s because it’s been so long since I have been with anyone or if it’s just him.
“So, tell me about yourself,” he says, taking a seat on the edge of my lounge bed, putting his beer on the ground between his bent knees.
“I grew up here.” I wave my hand out toward the house. “I went to college in Alabama and got my master’s in healthcare administration. I moved back here after school and worked for one of the local hospitals, married Matthew a few years later, and then realized I hated my job. So I started painting, which is something I always enjoyed doing, as a more serious hobby. Not just when I was bored, but actually making the time to do it as a part of my daily routine. I sold my first painting five years ago, and a year later, I decided to quit the hospital and started painting full time.”
“You’re an artist?”
“Yes.” I load up a cracker with cheese.
“Have I seen any of your work?”
“Probably not. Most of it is purchased by people who want to hang it in their homes, but there are a few local floral shops and small businesses that have bought from me or sell my pieces.”
“That’s cool.”
“I think so,” I agree, and he smiles. “Where are you from?”
“You don’t think I’m from here?”
“No, you don’t have the typical Southern drawl most people from around here do.”
“I’m from Colorado.”
“Colorado is beautiful. Why did you move to Tennessee?”
“My brothers and my niece all moved out this way, so I followed them,” he explains with a fondness in his tone that makes me smile.
“How many brothers do you have?”
“Three.”
“Your poor mom,” I mutter, swearing I see his muscles get tight. “My mom only has one boy, Jacob, and he’s been a handful since the day he came screaming into this world.”
He doesn’t respond, so I focus on eating. I’m sure there’s a story behind why he suddenly seems tense, but we don’t know each other well enough for me to pry.
After I finish eating, I put my plate aside and start to pick up my wine glass, but the back of my neck begins to tingle, making me pause. Glancing toward the house, I spot Matthew close to the railing, with his eyes pointed in our direction, blatantly ignoring his date, who is clearly talking to him.
“He’s an idiot for bringing her here, when he so obviously wants you back.”
Focusing on Dayton, I find his gaze pointed in the direction I was just looking.
“That’s never happening.” I grab my wine and take a sip while leaning back in the oversized chair. “And I don’t think he actually wants me back. I think it’s just his ego and the fact that he considered me something he owned for a very long time.”
“Owned?” His gaze comes to me.
“As he put it, I was his.”
“Hmmm.”
There’s that hum again.
My phone starts to ring, so I pull it out of my clutch and inwardly groan when I see it’s my mom calling. Part of me wants to ignore her, but I know she’ll just call back over and over until I finally pick up.
“Hey, Mom.” I put the call on speaker.
“Where are you? Did you leave?”
“No, I’m down by the pool.”
“Why are you down there?” she asks, sounding confused.
“It’s quiet, and I wanted to eat in peace.”
“Well, when you're finished, will you please come back to the house? There are people here who would like to see you.”
“I’ll be there in a few minutes.” I hang up and tuck my cell away, meeting Dayton’s gaze. “I’ve been summoned.”
“I heard.” A flash of humor crosses his face.
“I guess I should go back,” I sigh.
“Yeah, me too,” he agrees, moving to his feet.
Carefully getting up, I adjust my dress, then look up at him when he takes hold of my elbow to steady me while I slip my heels back on.
“Thanks,” I murmur when I have them both on my feet. With a jerk of his chin, he lets me go and hands me my wine glass before he picks up my empty plate along with his.
“Thanks for keeping me company,” I tell him quietly when we reach the bottom of the steps that lead up to the patio, and he looks down at me.
“Any time.”
With a nod, I drop my gaze from his and walk up the stairs, losing sight of him as he disappears into the crowd.
As the evening carries on, I catch a glimpse of him from time to time and swear his unusual blue eyes are always on me. I tell myself it’s just my imagination, but that doesn’t stop my knees from getting weak or my skin from prickling each and every time my eyes meet his.