“You just walked over. To Eye of the Tiger.” Her disbelief is comical–wide open mouth, narrow eyes, chin almost touching her chest.
“It was karaoke night. What can I say?” I picture myself doing the runway model strut to him, because that makes for good story. Him holding my gaze while my hips punctuated the drum beats with every step. While his eyes smoldered, but the truth is, I couldn’t see his face at all because he’d been facing the other way.
“And you just kissed him?” Of course she doesn’t believe me. She sees me as frail, because I’ve only just broken up with Caleb.
“Oh yeah. And it was…” I shake my head because there isn’t a word to describe it. Instead, I huff out a quick, short breath where a word should be. I take a bite of pizza while she stares at me. “What?”
Her smile spreads across her face. “I’m just happy for you. Caleb is a tool. And so is Mark. And Jeremy. But Walker is a great guy. Your luck is changing.” She grinned. “Tide’s turning. Gray skies are looking sunny.” She’s about to burst into song.
“How well do you know him?” I’d be remiss in doing my due diligence if I don’t ask. She’sgotinsider information. Iwantinsider information. No harm in doing some innocent, friend based recon.
“I know he’s kind. Smart. Funny. Kind of dry sense of humor. And girl, he gives an oil change like the guys on TV. Fast and friendly.” She chuckles. “If he wasn’t Hunter’s best friend and I wasn’t with Hunter and I’d met him back in the day…” She shakes her head.
“I thought you liked the blonde surfer boy vibe.” I know everything about Molly. And her taste is as specific as any other woman who knows exactly what she wants and goes after it no matter what. She saw Hunter, fantasized for one day, ran into him again–shesaysby accident–and now they’re a few months from marital bliss.
“I do. But Walker looks like he knows how to make a girl thankful for her vagina.” Molly also has a way with words. “Are you thankful yet?”
I laugh. “Smooth, Mol.” It’s been two weeks almost since we met and I haven’t even touched this guy. Instead, I side-step the question.
Not that she’s letting it go. “Well, are you?”
“Am I…?” Toying with her? Absolutely.
“Are you grateful that Walker has working man parts? And if you have to give a number to those man parts…”
I sigh, shake my head, paint on a frown as much because I don’t know the answer as because I want to screw with her a little for asking. “His man parts are…” I shake my head some more. “It’s sad really.”
“Sad?” The delight of only a moment ago is gone. Her expression twists into a look of disappointment–frown of her own and then her lower lip puffs out–before she wipes it awat and looks up at me. “Okay, so Walker is…”
I laugh because her mind is visibly spinning and it looks painful. “I don’t know how Walker is. I haven’t even seen him since that night. We’ve both been busy.”
“Oh, thank God.” She downed the rest of her fake breezer, poured herslf another from the pitcher, then shook her head at me. “So let’s fix that, shall we?”
Cheddar, my orange tabby, comes trotting in from my bedroom, slows to his perfect princely prance, then leaps onto my lap, his motor purring before I’ve even raised a hand to stroke his fur.
I saved him from the shelter a few years ago, and since then he’s has become the lord of the manor and he allows me to live with him.
“What’s that?” I lean down as if I’m listening to my cat. “Oh.” I glance at Molly. “Sorry, but Cheddar thinks you’re holding back some Walker information. He thinks it’s not a very good show of friendship to withhold. He says you should tell it.”
Molly shakes her head. “You and that cat.” She’s a dog person. “I heard the kiss was a paint peeler.”
When I think back on it–every single time since it’s happened–my body flushes with heat and my pulse goes into overdrive. Like now, but I nod at Molly, let her think the color in my cheeks is from embarrassment not need and longing and wanting.
“It was nice.” If there were ever awards for understatements, this one is a gold medal winner. “What can I say, he’s a good kisser.”
Part of me, the part I often keep silent with a few hundred layers of duct tape over her big mouth–thinks that it’s more than the fact he knows how to kiss. It’s about who he is. How much I wanted the kiss once I spoke to him. About the man himself now that I know him a bit better.
“I’ma good kisser.” She’s shaking her head. “Doesn’t mean you’d light up like Rockerfeller Center at Christmas if I locked lips with you. And I know exactly what makes a girl light up like that. I felt the same way for a month after my first kiss with Hunter. I still feel that way when he kisses me.” She pauses for a minute, goes dreamy-eyed then blinks and shakes it off. “The point is, whatever you’re feeling about him isn’t just about that kiss.”
I know that. It’s why I’ve been toying with the idea of seeing him more. Well, seeing him, anyway. A quick glance across a crowded room would be seeing himmore. I would like to see him. Have a conversation where I could see his face. Although the anonymity of being able to tell him things isn’t something I undervalue. Not that I’ve told him much.
“He’ll ask eventually I hope, and if not, it just isn’t meant to be.” Won’t stop me from lusting.
“Or you could ask him. Take charge. Pull up the big girl panties. Get your man, Belle.” She shakes my shoulder for a quick second then pulls her hand back. “He isn’t Caleb. I promise you that.”
I already know. Caleb would’ve already been here demanding I see him, demanding I drop my panties and take it like a woman. Not that he forced me. He was just forceful. Demanding. Always in charge because he always needed to be in charge.
“I know. I can already tell that.” And it’s true. Walker has a good heart. I don’t know it for sure, but I’d bet money on it.
