“Ready?” he asked, and I nodded.
We listened to the soft rock station on the way to the hotel and laughed about the music we used to listen to as teens.
“Remember my grunge stage?”
Ford asking this sent me into a fit of laughter. “You thought you were all emo,” I finally spit out.
I was still laughing when we pulled up at the hotel, and continued lamenting on about his hair being wild and always in his face, his looks driving his mom crazy, and the lyrics he used to walk around sputtering.
Of course, I shut up as soon as Ford opened the door to his huge suite—two bedrooms, complete with a sitting area and a beautiful bar. I set my purse down and Ford poured me wine without asking, while I turned around and took it all in.
“Burgers?” He drew me out of my trance.
“Sounds good. I’m starving.” Thinking about it, I added, “I’m pretty sure this is another way our age shows. I don’t think twentysomethings, or thirtyish people, eat burgers on a date. At least the women you know in LA don’t.”
“Well, they’re missing out.”
He didn’t breathe any life into what I was saying. I wasn’t sure if it was a well-practiced move or his true feelings, but I didn’t ask. He picked up the phone and ordered two gourmet cheeseburgers, done medium, truffle fries, and a brownie sundae.
Setting the phone back in the receiver, he started walking toward where I’d plopped on the couch.
“Are you trying to get me drunk?” I asked over the top of my heavy crystal glass. It probably cost triple the ones I had at home. Not wanting to mention the glass, I cocked my head toward his empty hand, with an eyebrow raised.
“I want you to have a good time. But I need to be able to drive you home in case you don’t want to stay.” He sat next to me, his palm coming to my thigh.
In an instant, his ignoring the second drink at the club made sense.
“Thank you,” I said. His outer thigh bumped into mine and heat radiated between us—heat and lust and years of want (on my part).
“You are precious cargo, and you know it was a cause my dad was fully involved in. His dad’s brother drove himself into a wall after drinking too much. He never forgave himself after that. Always thought he should’ve done more. Something my brother has not taken on as one of his causes—”
I interrupted, not wanting to talk about Scott. “I forgot about that. I’m glad you’re carrying on the cause.”
“But if you want to stay…” he said, leaning forward and kissing along my cheek to my ear. He shoved my hair behind said ear and tugged with his teeth on the lobe. “I’ll have a drink,” he finished, his voice husky and deep. “And we can have a good time… But no pressure.”
I was on edge, incredibly turned on, and also wanting to make Ford wait. Was that what women my age did? Were there rules?
“I’ll stay,” I said softly, deciding I was too old to play games.
He turned and his mouth devoured mine as soon as I said it, nipping on my bottom lip, so I opened for his tongue. I felt his hand take my glass and reach beyond me to put it on the table.
We ended up horizontal on the couch, Ford on top of me, kissing the fuck out of me, like two teens on prom night.
“Red.” His hand sifted through my hair as he came up for air. “Why?” He asked one word.
“Why? What?”
“Why did I stay away so long?”
I couldn’t answer. I didn’t know. And truthfully, I’d internalized all the reasons why.
“Don’t let your mind do that. I can feel it churning.” Ford brought his hand back to my cheek as I felt a tear drop from my eye. He kissed my forehead and whispered, “I’m here now.”
We were having this surreal moment where all my feelings were coming out and he seemed to understand what I meant, how I felt, and how it was all interconnected, even when I didn’t.
“I ran because I was scared. I mean when we were babies. College babies. Being with you felt so good. So right. And back then I didn’t think anything should feel right. I was too young to be complacent.”
I found the courage to counter. “You could have explained.”
