Page 12 of Boxer Next Door

He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean I can't contribute more. I want to. We can split fifty-fifty on the cost, or we can each pay for an item?”

I didn’t want to agree to any compromise. But I also didn’t want my wallet to suffer. He named a few of the things we would need, the top five, and said possible prices. I grimaced just hearing it.

“I really should pay though,” I insisted stubbornly. “It’s my fence, and even if you hadn't knocked it down, I’m pretty sure some storm would have taken care of it, and I would need to repair it anyway.”

About ten minutes later, we’d arrived in the business district, where all the shops around town were located. The hardware store where we’d be getting most of our supplies from was still a few blocks away when Ken suddenly pulled to the curb.

“I just remembered that it’s lunchtime,” he said, giving me an apologetic look. “I don’t have food in the house, so would you mind too much if we stopped to eat first?”

That hadn't been in my plans. I could have just cooked at home, but it would have been too awkward, inviting him to eat lunch with me. I didn’t know him nearly well enough yet.

“Sure,” I said because now that he mentioned food, I could feel my stomach ache a bit.

The restaurant was a small family place and quiet around this time. They got more customers during the summer, but for the moment, kids were still in school, and a lot of people were at work. We found a table and sat ourselves down, then waited. The place wasn’t packed, but I didn’t see a waitress around.

“We might have to wait a while. They’re all probably in the back.”

I nodded, reaching my hand for one of the menus. Somehow, I’d been fine in the car, even though it was the two of us in an enclosed space. But now, sitting across from him where I could see him, I couldn’t help feeling a little awkward.

“Hello, my name is Mandy, and I’ll be your server for today. May I take your orders?”

I looked up in relief at the waitress that had just stopped at our table. Even briefly, anything to dispel the awkwardness was very welcome. We both gave our orders, and she jotted them down before leaving. We spent a few more minutes in silence, eyes bouncing around as we tried to avoid each other’s eyes. Then, the server was back, and she put down plates of food in front of us. I kept my head down as she walked away, playing with my fork and racking my brain for a topic of conversation.

Something. Anything!

“Why don’t you tell me about yourself?” Ken asked, breaking the silence first. I looked up, trying not to show how relieved I was. “And I’ll tell you something about me, if you’d like. That way, we won’t be strangers any longer?”

It sounded like a great idea, so I went first. I told him about how I met Mike, and he told me a little bit about former relationships. I told him about my parents, he mentioned a bit about his, though I couldn’t help noticing how he tensed through that one. So I changed the topic to my son, and he relaxed visibly.

At one point, we both reached for the salt at the same time and stopped mid-air because our hands would have collided. Avoiding accidental touching added another level of awkward to the table. Surprisingly, though, the more we talked, the easier it was to calm down.

But even though I was outwardly calm, I was a nervous wreck inside. I wanted to touch him. Every time he reached for something, salt or some condiment, or just twitched his hands, my own would react. I couldn’t even say if all the near-accidental touching was that, or if my body was moving unconsciously for what it wanted. I knew I couldn’t, shouldn’t, but he was just so fucking hot and right there.

Where would I ever get another chance like this?

“Can I get you two anything else?”

I looked up, surprised to see the waitress was back. I hadn't even noticed her walk up.

“Oh, we’re good for now,” Ken said. Then he paused and turned to me, eyebrow arched. “Unless there’s something you want, Lydia?”

I shook my head. “No, I’m fine.”

“Just the check then, please. After we’re done.”

“Of course.”

Unlike before, I was paying attention to the waitress now, and I wondered how I’d missed it. When she talked, she was looking right at Ken, like I didn’t exist at the table at all. I gave her an appraisal and felt my chest ache.

Young and beautiful, I lamented.

I didn’t miss that Ken didn’t look back at the waitress, even though she was the kind of woman he should have been focusing his attention on, instead of me. I was damn near my forties; I had a kid that took up a lot of my time and a demanding career that took up the rest of it. I could fantasize all I wanted, but I wouldn’t be getting what I wanted. It would be better to not wish for it in the first place.

But I couldn’t help a tightening in my chest.

I didn’t want to give him up.

It had taken me too long to admit to myself that I was lonely. And now, here was someone attractive that I would be spending quite a bit of time around soon. It would be so amazing if I could just let go, be wild once more in my life, like how I’d been before I was tied down. Having a fling, whether or not it meant anything…