“Perhaps,” he says, folding my hand in his, and a shock of awareness shivers through my core, “we should practice together.”
At the drag of Noah’s callused thumb across my knuckles, time freezes along with the breath in my throat. The only thing that continues are the tingly circles and intoxicating bursts of heat, and I just want him to do the sorts of tawdry, Kama Sutra shit I’ve only read about lately.
While at work.
“What do you say, fellow grandparent wrangler?” he asks.
“I’m confused. Are you saying you want to, like, go on a date?”
“Want, no,” he says, and a band rings my chest and compresses my lungs. “In fact, I keep telling myself it’d be a bad idea to get involved.”
That rids me of air and fills every open gap with offense. “With the mission or me?”
“Yes,” he says, and I hope he noticed my eye roll.
If so, it certainly doesn’t stop him from leaning close enough I can see the reflection of the flickering lights that beg us togo home alreadyin his eyes. “But it’s starting to feel inevitable. Might as well stop driving myself crazy thinking about it and just take you out already. Whatdya say?”
At the ripe old age of twenty-six, it’s also getting pretty old, having to envy the sex life of seniors, so I do my best to sound entirely in control of my rioting nervous system when I give my answer. “I say yes.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
This gymnasium of the community center is beginning to feel like a second office, but tonight’s bustling crowd turns it into a whole new experience.
I bounce in my seat onstage, a sense of accomplishment boosting me higher. Between all the bargaining and liaising, I decided to take the optimistic road not usually traveled by me and added two extra rows of chairs to the Boozy Bingo configuration.
Not only did it make all the difference, once Bob and his Silver Swingers got there, we ended up with more butts than seats. But by the time I reached the group to apologize and amend the shortage, he’d already put his men to work setting up another couple rows, no strings attached.
And when he told me, “Darlin’, don’t you worry none,” it actually eased my concerns, double-negative notwithstanding.
Even better, I’m not the one giving this seminar.
As a local favorite already, Dr. Carlos Vasquez was a no-brainer. He’s also brought along Zuri, the popular office manager and receptionist, to cover the warning signs for heart attack, stroke, and dehydration, plus CPR certification for those interested.
I’m thrilled so many are interested, even if it took a little coercion.
Early last week, a woman in a turquoise velour tracksuit had approached me on my afternoon coffee break. She yanked me behind a palm tree in the middle of my coffee break, lowered her giant sunglasses and whispered, “For the best turnout, you want the Holy Rollers.”
Then she vanished, coy and conspiratorial, and I hadso, so manyquestions.
Turns out, the Holy Rollers were a group of predominately women, very passionate about spreading their gospel via golf carts or mobility scooters. They held bible study a couple of times a week, plus two hours of worship every Sunday, followed by an extremely well-attended luncheon.
I asked Sophia, our resident socialite, for an intro. She’d scoffed and referred to them as thePious Patrol, then connected me with the women who did all the planning and organizing. And cooking and baking.
Once the Sunday luncheon was cancelled, wouldn’t you know it, those hungry men were more amiable to helping.
But my favorite by far—and the one that had the phones ringing nonstop all week—was pulled off by the Seam Queens, our resident quilting club, who signed up for every single tee time and golfed as slowly as they could, refusing to let the men play through until they were more cooperative.
I’d also heard whispers of an abstinence pact, but most importantly, the women in this village had started a movement.
With so many in attendance, I dare to give in to that tingly, fluttery thought—we did it! We actually did it.
As Dr. Vasquez starts up the stairway to the stage, I pop to my feet, then wish I would’ve waited so I wasn’t just standing there drawing attention before I wanted it on me.
“Thanks again for doing this,” I say when he’s still a few feet away, unable to hold the words in my mouth any longer. “I know how busy you are and how much work it is, preparing and presenting.”
Carlos swipes a hand through the air. “No big deal. Digging deep and pushing through is what separates people like us from the rest. We say yes, and then we figure out how to do it.”
I want to bob my head and agree, only the idea still squeezes the air from my lungs, reminding me I’m not that woman anymore. That’s who Iusedto be, a people pleaser who burned the candle at both ends and used the leftover wax to create tealights for others.
