She still thought of him as Cliff Bauer, Yoga God, and now here she was, in a Prius, on her way to his son’s sixth birthday party. Like friends! Her eyes slid toward him, and then away again. She dressed casually, feminine rather than sexy. Streamlined taupe pants, a pink blouse with a lacy chest and a dab of peach blush and lipstick to complement her natural color. Minimal hair maintenance and sandals completed the look. This was not a date.

Or maybe it was like, a starter date?

Cliff looked meticulous, wearing a vibrant red sweater of corded wool and a pair of rich, dark blue jeans which hugged the muscles of his thighs. Despite how solid and in control he looked, like a man in an ad for a big truck, his jaw was tight and his eyes were distant. Nervousness oozed from every pore.

They pretended to listen to the radio, which was playing yet another country break-up-and-get-drunk ballad.

“Are you going to be okay?” Eve asked tentatively.

A soft, pained smile tugged at the corners of Cliff’s lips, but he didn’t look at her. “Oh, yeah,” he answered nonchalantly. “This is my third year of divorce and the marriage wasn’t that great. Also, I’m used to fielding the barbs.” The hesitation in his tone let Eve know that it wasn’t true. He hadn’t been able to stand the vitriol in the marriage, and he couldn’t stand it now, either. He was nothing but a big old teddy bear. A golden retriever soul trapped in the body of a yoga god.

Eve swallowed and leaned forward to turn the volume knob downward on the radio. “What happened between you guys?”

Cliff shrugged. “I really don’t know. We grew up together, were high school sweethearts. It was obvious to everyone that we would get married, and that I would work with my father, building houses. I went to school to be an architect. I followed all the steps. But then, after we got married, something happened. I went to work for an outside company. I thought the extra money would make her happy. Anyway, she seemed to get meaner, and nothing I did was right anymore.” They sat in silence for a few beats. “And I wasn’t happy anymore, either.”

“With the marriage, or just…?”

“Just everything.”

“Me too.” Eve exhaled and looked out of the passenger window while Cliff tapped the phone console on his dashboard and requested that Google tell him how far they were from Seven Hills Park, New York. The bland, robotic voice stated that they were twenty-seven miles from their destination and were on the fastest route. Estimated time of arrival was one pm.

“So, what brought you to the city?”

“I just needed some space, but I still wanted to be close to my son,” Cliff explained. “OK Google, show me pictures of Galen.”

A slideshow began on the phone, all images of a gorgeous baby, then toddler, then preschooler, then elementary schooler, dissolving into one another. She saw time just slip away.

“But you know how it is when you make one decision,” Cliff said, voice thick with melancholy. Eve gave him emotional space by gazing out of the window. “The entire decision tree shifts. I got a job at Results, and a three month lease turned into a year lease, and one year turned into three, and here I am. There I am. Google. Close pictures.”

Eve felt Cliff’s remorse and uncertainty in the car, his self-loathing and lack of satisfaction. The scenery was a beautiful distraction. The towering trees were bursting with rich reds, oranges, and yellows.

“I miss my son, and I still see him every weekend that I can. It won’t be like this forever.” The car swept beneath a blustering arch of flying golden leaves, torn from their trees by a sudden gust of wind. The high sunlight caught the leaves and, for a few seconds, the car seemed to be trapped in a snow globe filled with gold flecks. “I just can’t be that person anymore. I have to find somewhere in between.”

“Galen will understand when he’s older,” Eve reassured him. “There’s something to be said for living in the city.” They were empty words of comfort spoken out habit, but her thoughts were clear: This is gorgeous. Be here, now.

The sudden feeling that she was being watched intensely drew her eyes back to Cliff. The air in the car shifted to a sudden pressure and heat and Eve’s eye went to his crotch. There was definitely something going on down there. They both looked away at the same time. Eve’s heart surged and she felt a warm flush open her pores.

“Chel is always on me about coming back,” Cliff said, clearing his throat and launching onward as if the moment had never happened.

“Chel—your ex?”

“Chelsea—my sister,” Cliff answered. “She can be a grade-A bitch, but she has a good heart. Don’t tell her I said that. She doesn’t care much for my compliments.”

“Why would I tell her you said that?” Eve had to wonder. “Like the first thing I say when I meet her is going to be, ‘Hey, Chelsea, Cliff said that you could be a grade-A bitch on the way here.’”

“I don’t know you!” Cliff insisted.

“Yes, you do,” Eve countered.

The car jerked to the left and suddenly the golden snow globe was twisting all around them again, a confusion of bright yellow leaves and piercing blue sky. Wheels bounced over the road like they were dropping essential parts. Eve yelped and snatched at the window, trying to see what was happening. She could feel that something was wrong. Cliff fought with the wheel, his biceps and triceps working overtime.

“Ah, shit,” he muttered, letting the vehicle drift off to the shoulder. “I think we just blew a tire.”

Eve settled back into her seat and nipped at her lip as Cliff stormed out of the car to assess the damage. She saw him gazing down at a tire with great concern, then extracting his cell phone. Eve wrenched open the door and traipsed over to Cliff. She squinted up at him and gave her characteristic expression of adorable befuddlement.

“Well, I’ve got good news, and I’ve got bad news,” Cliff informed her brightly. “And then I’ve got more bad news.”

“Okay.” Eve offered up her most comforting smile, then gazing with him down into his ruined back tire. “Hit me with the good news first.”

“The good news? Okay, well, we’re alive. We’re in good health. And it’s a beautiful day.”

Eve’s smile faltered. “And the bad news?”

“We’re going to need to get towed the rest of the way,” he told her, spreading his hands and raising his eyebrows, as if absenting himself from this entire scene. “And the garage that can replace these tires for me is closed until tomorrow morning. I’m really sorry.”

Eve nodded and pursed her lips, not sure why he was apologizing. “Well, that’s okay,” she offered reflexively. “It can’t be that expensive, and what’s one day stranded in the mountains?”

“Stranded with me,” Cliff said, as if that fact was, by far, the most boring part of the whole deal. Little did he know.

They leaned side by side on the outside of the car, enjoying the view of the valley and of the trees rippling in the wind, while waiting for the tow truck. Eve’s heart ratcheted up another ten beats per minute as she considered tonight. Her palms grew hot and damp at the thought. Would they be forced to share a bed? Would their ripe, ready bodies stretch out within inches of each other, the tiny gap simmering with potential energy and body heat?

She didn’t mind if his hand incidentally brushed over her thigh once or twice. Or ten times.

She didn’t mind if his fingers wandered beneath her panties in the night, unthreading all her seams, drawing her clothing away piece by piece, until she was nothing but vulnerable flesh laid bare before him. The fleeting fantasy of his fingers pinching her taut pink nipples bobbed up from not that deep in her subconscious, followed by his two hands both planted deep in her hair, his mouth fumbling along the curve of her throat.

Her pussy perked up for him like it always did, suddenly warm and slick. Eve didn’t dare let her eyes trail down to Cliff’s member but she was pretty sure that he was as hard as stone, thinking the same damn thoughts she was.

* * *

The drive in the cab of the tow truck was claustrophobic. Their driver, a burly fellow, took up most of the bench seat. For half an hour, Cliff crowded against Eve, his nose shoved into her coconut cream-scented hair and her breasts directly beneath his eyes, his thigh brushing her hand at every shift and his massive chest crowding close to her face. Eve never caught him looking down her sweater—never even felt his eyes tip toward her ample cleavage—but she was still certain that he could hear her heartbeat vibrating over her skin at this point. He smelled like spices, like fresh cooking. It called to mind old-fashioned oatmeal, steaming in the bowl with honey and raisins and a drop of vanilla.

Seven Hills Park couldn’t come soon enough. She was practically dizzy by the time the tow truck spat her out in the parking lot.

The rolling greenery was enough to ease Eve’s mind a little and she dragged in a mouthful of the cool, crisp air, gaining footing on a less sexual reality. Her fogged, horny brain was clearing.

“Great,” she heard Cliff’s voice saying from the other side of the truck. “We’re only about half an hour late. Nice.” He sounded genuine when he said it.

Cliff settled the bill with the tow truck driver, and explained where he needed his car delivered.

Eve knew that this was the one. She had long brown hair, styled into small, tight waves down her shoulders, and wore impeccable I’m-not-wearing-any-makeup makeup. She was dressed in sharp designer threads, a chic teal tunic that was too loose to hug anything and a black pencil skirt with heels. Hardly a park ensemble.

“There he is,” she greeted them with dramatic warmth and showmanship but her eyes were cold and angry. Eve was relieved that they only alighted on her for a second, because that second was a long cold one. “We already cut the cake.” Cliff’s ex-wife directed this remark solely at him.

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Cliff said, shaking his head as he silently bade their driver farewell. “I texted you.”

“Yes, I saw your text. But how was I supposed to know if you’d really blown a tire, if you were really on your way? You do all kinds of stuff you’re not supposed to do.”

She fixed her steely gaze on Eve and smiled, though it was the ugliest, smallest attempt at a smile possible. It was like watching a demon try to smile. “I’m Allison, by the way.” She stuck out her hand mechanically and Eve took it. The other woman squeezed hard and Eve yelped with surprise, drawing her hand back sharply. “Always been told I grip like a man,” Allison explained, giving Cliff a wink.

Eve could see why he wanted backup here. What did that little comment even mean? Why the wink? Whatever she meant, Allison had certainly got a reaction out of Cliff. Eve had never seen his expression so dark.

“So, how did you two meet?” Allison asked, taking a big stride toward Eve and folding her arms beneath her breasts. Her stance was one hundred percent warrior, protecting her middle, chest thrust out, and head high.

Eve shrank back in response. “Yoga,” she piped. “He spilled a smoothie on me.”

“Galen!” Cliff brightened.

While Allison had been distracted by her ex-husband’s maybe date, their son came bursting forward from the party pavilion. Cliff swept up his newly six-year-old son and smothered him with hugs and kisses.

“That seems unethical,” Allison replied to Eve. Her nose crinkling as she spoke. “Why are you here?”

“We’re just friends,” Eve explained, though she had no idea why she’d said it. She didn’t owe this woman anything.

“We already cut the cake,” Galen said to Cliff. “But you’ve got plenty of time to give me presents!”

Cliff smiled ruefully. “I’m sorry, son,” he said. “My car got a flat on the way here and the tow truck just took it to the garage. I had your presents in the trunk. Can you wait until tomorrow?”

“You’ll still be here tomorrow?” Galen clapped, and Allison smirked.

“Cliff!” An older couple advanced on the awkward family reunion plus one. Eve had to assume that these were parents and felt yet another twinge regarding the fact that her family were so far away. The woman looked noble and strong, a willowy creature with a thick silver bob and an abundance of colorful scarves gathered near her neck. The man was more rustic but possessed the same youthful energy as she did. He wore dark blue jeans and a red plaid shirt. He had only the faintest hint of blond left in his hair, but otherwise, he looked a lot like a sixty year old version of Cliff.

Eve found herself smiling fondly at the man, thinking of Cliff growing rugged and warm with age, like a cherished coat.

“And who is this?” the older woman cooed, sweeping down on Eve and grasping her hand warmly.

“Evelyn Mooney,” she answered softly. “I’m a friend of Cliff’s.” She almost added “Just friends.”

“Well, it’s lovely to meet you, dear,” the woman answered. “I’m his mother, Sophia, and this is my husband, Malcolm.” She gestured for the older version of Cliff to come forward, and he obeyed.

“And Uncle Milo!” Galen cheered.

Allison’s eyes flicked upward for a split second and no one caught it but Eve. She had actually rolled her eyes.

“Ah, Uncle Milo didn’t come this time, baby,” Cliff explained softly. “I’m sorry.”

“Milo McNamara?” Eve asked.

“But—yes he did!” Galen insisted.

“How do you know our boy?” Mr. Bauer inquired of Eve, and she opened her mouth to answer, but Galen was pointing frantically.

Cliff muttered under his breath, “Son of a bitch.” Eve gave him a sharp look, certain she wasn’t the only one to hear the oath.

Cliff met her eyes over Galen’s head and agreed, “He is here.”

Eve’s eyes followed everyone else’s and saw a mud-splattered sport vehicle pulling into a parking space nearby. The front door popped open and, sure enough, rugged, surly Milo McNamara clambered out. The thing was, he wasn’t so surly and rugged right now. He was bright and cheerful—like Cliff, in fact. Hell, he was wearing a yellow and gray plaid button-down and snug, powdery-blue jeans. Give him a shave and let his hair grow out into shaggy black barbs, and he would almost be Cliff.

“Galen!” he boomed, scooping up the little boy into a bone-crushing hug. He still hadn’t spotted Eve or Cliff—or Cliff and Eve. “Happy birthday, kid,” he bade as he released the child, tousling his hair. The true affection on his face was obvious.

“Sophie,” he greeted Cliff’s mother first, brushing over her cheek with a chaste kiss. She accepted gracefully. He lifted his eyes to search for Malcolm Bauer who was standing over with Eve, and that was when Milo’s spark died. It was abrupt and strange. His face was glowing with spirit in one minute, and then, all he needed to do was see her, and it was gone.

“Well, I’ll be. Evelyn Mooney.” He sounded just as confused as she had been to hear his name a moment ago. “Hey, Malcolm.” He swung his hand forward and caught Mr. Bauer’s. The brightness returned to his face as his eyes lit over Allison.

“There she is,” he said.

Allison looked knowingly at him. “Hello, Milo,” she said, her tone an essay of subtext.

Milo turned last to Cliff and nodded. “Hey, Cliff,” he said. He drew a small wrapped box out of his jacket and shook it. “Where should I put this?”

“We rented that pavilion,” Allison said flatly. She abandoned Eve and stalked in her pointy little shoes toward the wooden arch in the near distance, table cluttered with gifts and cake. Eve relaxed for the first time in a while.

As Milo followed the family with his gift, he hesitated alongside Cliff and offered up, “Sorry if I overstepped my boundaries. I saw the party on Facebook, and I always come.”

“I always invited you previously.”

“I said I was sorry,” Milo reminded him hotly. His eyes flashed to Eve. It was unmistakable—and their eyes caught. He must have known that she was watching and listening. “I didn’t know you were bringing someone,” he finished, breaking away from Cliff to jog and join the rest of the family who were now loudly discussing what movie everyone would go see after the party. The cake had been cut and the candles burnt, but no one had eaten anything yet and all the presents were still wrapped, so there was still a lot of noise and fuss. Another car arrived and Cliff’s sister, Chelsea, a vibrant blonde with laugh lines at the corners of her eyes, joined the celebrations with her husband and their two boys.

It was easy for Eve to fade into the background now that more of the family had arrived. She was a stranger here so no one needed to talk to her about anything. At least, in theory, she should have been able to be invisible.

For a stressful hour or so, Eve had to endure half-hearted jabs from Allison. She also had to field good-natured questions from Cliff’s lovely parents and sister, all subtly worded to ascertain the nature of her relationship to him. Eve didn’t know what to say to them because she didn’t know herself. Then there was Milo’s eavesdropping. Now why did he care so much? Who was he to Cliff?

After Galen opened his present, Milo stepped forward and got a hug, then receded back and discreetly made his round of goodbyes to everyone there except for Eve. He then climbed into his car and was gone—back on the three-hour road trip into the city, like nothing had happened at all.

The party picked up where it had left off, but Eve couldn’t shake Milo from her mind. She caught Cliff’s eye and he beamed at her. He seemed to have forgotten Milo, at least for now.

“Eve,” Mr. Bauer said, causing her to turn from the wonderful sight of Cliff and Galen’s obvious bond. “Would you like to stay in our guestroom tonight, until Cliff’s car is ready in the morning?”

Oh, god, no, came whispering into her mind before she could smother it.

A tiny fake smile blossomed on her lips and Eve nodded. “That is so kind of you,” she said. That part was true. “I would love to.” That part was not.

How was she supposed to just lay in bed so close to that man over there? Sizzling like a strip of untouched bacon?

* * *

Cliff tried to look like he wasn’t watching Eve throughout the dinner. He couldn’t stop himself. It was like watching a bird pluck at crumbs on a balcony. She was so pretty and strange, everything she did, even the delicate, fussy way she tore apart her biscuits, was performance art. She was totally adorable, but it brought out a different side of Cliff, the wild beast on a long leash. Yoga helped keep the beast at bay, at least most of the time. As the sun set through the course of the meal, Cliff’s eyes stole to her, collecting the pieces he assembled into a fantasy.

The halo of dark messy half-curls. Those emerald eyes hidden behind cat glasses, stealing uncertain glances at him, catching and darting away like prey that would rather slip from its trap. That little pink mouth. Those soft white breasts. Cliff felt an unwelcome throb beneath the dinner table and forced his eyes down to his plate. He practiced progressive relaxation techniques until his cock’s insistence subsided.

After dinner, the conversation and the wine were both good. Cliff felt relaxed with Eve in a way that he hadn’t anticipated. She had always been so timid with him, but as the night went on she relaxed and seemed very comfortable in her own skin. The tension in her body and her face dissolved, her movements became languid and even suggestive. For a while, they forgot that this was an awkward half-date and enjoyed each other’s company. She touched his shoulder twice without even thinking about it but he sure as hell noticed. Chelsea clearly related to her as she picked her brain for almost an hour about all the different freelance jobs she’d had.

“Let me show you to the guest room,” Chelsea guided Eve, scooping an arm around her shoulders. “I’m going to tell you the premise for my trilogy, and I want you to be absolutely honest.”

“Don’t talk about me!” Cliff commanded. He didn’t want Eve being scared away by stories of the real Cliff—the Cliff who had only been with one woman in his entire life, Allison.

“We won’t talk about you!” Chelsea promised musically. “Nobody cares about that time you catfished some girl into thinking you were Justin Timberlake.” And then she and Eve were gone, upstairs, laughter bleeding through the ceiling.

* * *

Later, after his parents had said their goodnights, Cliff led Eve through the dark upstairs of the Bauer home. The house didn’t look nearly so big from the outside—it was just a couple stories, after all. Still, she hoped she wouldn’t need to find a bathroom in the middle of the night. Chelsea had shown her the guestroom earlier, but was much more interested in her own book ideas than in giving Eve a grand tour.

“Where’s your room?” Eve asked Cliff warmly.

“My room, huh?” He led her down the hall and nudged a door open, flicking on its lights. He hesitated at the doorway and turned to whisper to Eve, “I thought I was going to be the next Picasso. Let me just preface by saying that.”

The walls were covered in sketches and paintings. Trains rocketing through stations, sending up bright sprays of havoc in their wake. A man ascending a staircase, piercing light flowing from an open door at the top. A wilting flower traveling on a blurry creak. Eve lost her breath, looking at it all. Stories of transformation, of loss, passionately rendered in charcoal.

Eve settled onto the bed without even thinking about it.

“These are yours?” she asked, frowning in doubt. “Did you ever consider, I don’t know, being a famous artist?”

Cliff laughed without mirth and settled onto the bed alongside her. It had been such a long day together, neither of them noticed the slight touches anymore: the brush of thigh, the lingering glances. What had been exciting and high-risk now felt comfortable.

“I thought I might do something with it, but that wasn’t really the family into which I was born,” Cliff explained. “Mom was a psychiatrist. Dad had his own company. They expected me to do something more normal.”

“I thought your Dad built houses? That’s a form of art.”

“It wasn’t the art they opposed; it was the lack of security. My dad wasn’t just an architect. He was the president of Dimensions. It was a business more than an art.” Cliff offered up a grim laugh. “I guess they thought I might end up locked away in this room forever if I was an artist, so they didn’t exactly encourage me. My answer was to go to college to study graphic design. I thought that was meeting them halfway, right? Lucrative. And creative.”

Eve brightened. Maybe this story would have a happy ending after all. The day had been such an emotional drain, she figured he kind of needed it to end on a good note. “That’s pretty close to being the next Picasso.”

Cliff smiled ruefully and gave his head a half-shake. He patted her thigh, and a charge shot through her nervous system. Maybe she wasn’t as used to him as she thought she was. “Not even close, unfortunately. I ended up designing social media profiles for corporations, that sort of stuff.”

Eve frowned. “Ah. I see.”

“That’s kind of the reason…” Cliff’s eyes became distant and he shook his head. “Never mind.”

Now it was Eve’s turn to touch him. Her palm slid inside his thigh and rubbed. “What is it?” she coaxed.

“That was kind of the reason I was with Allison in the first place. I mean, in high school, it was not the same. She grew up in another house in this same neighborhood. Same church. Same school. And back then, she was different.” He reconsidered. “No, I was different. I only thought we wanted the same things. Anyway, college was long-distance, so that made the relationship a lot easier. She was like the invisible girlfriend.”

Eve nodded. “I did think that you two seemed mismatched.” She crinkled her nose, wanting to be honest without being offensive. “She has a real bitchy energy.”

“She wasn’t always like that,” Cliff explained. “But ever since our divorce she’s never really been able to forgive me for what happened.”

“What happened?” The words popped out before Eve could stop them.

“Well, first, downsizing hit the graphic design outfit where I’d been working, so we had to downsize a few things at home, and we had Galen by that time, so tensions were always high. It was a shitty, crazy year for me. I got certified as a yoga instructor against Allison’s wishes. Something changed in the way we spoke to each other. She became mean, downright hostile. She always had a strong personality, but this was different, far worse. It wasn’t just about the money, about me wanting a less stressful job. She implied that I was having affairs. That I wasn’t…” He tilted his head back and forth thoughtfully. “That I wasn’t secure in my sexual identity anymore. Now, we hadn’t been intimate in a long time, and I was frustrated, too, so I get it. But I wasn’t having an affair.”

“Right,” Eve murmured. She tried to imagine the frustration of a woman who had to lay in the same bed alongside Cliff all night, in a state of undress but not touching. Maybe, after a few weeks, she would get mean, too.

“And I’m not gay,” Cliff added just as passionately.

Eve blinked. “That’s why she wasn’t jealous of me,” she realized aloud. “I’m a woman.” Suddenly, all the incisive little comments that his ex-wife had made at Galen’s birthday party made sense. She’d been trying to shame him. The odd remark about having a man’s grip. The threatening way she promised not to divulge Cliff’s secrets. The odd familiarity between her and Milo.

“It’s ridiculous,” Cliff insisted.

But Eve couldn’t hear him over the volume of the whispered conversation flooding back to her, crashing into her ears:

“Totally ridiculous,” Cliff repeated.

“Is it?” Eve wondered meekly. “Is it so ridiculous?”

Their eyes met and Cliff swallowed. “Yes,” Cliff answered firmly. “Believe me, I’ve… asked myself enough to know, at this point. I’m not gay.”

“Then, who exactly is Milo?” Eve pressed, with mild surprise at herself for not just caving under someone else’s statement.

“He works at Results,” Cliff retorted weakly.

“No shit. I mean who is he to you?”

“I don’t know!” Cliff snapped, eyebrows lowering. He leaned forward, scrutinizing her, and Eve reacted to his heat. He was close enough to grab her throat. Close enough to kiss her. Eve’s heartbeat increased slightly at the fantasy of his fingers digging into her arms like iron, those brooding slate eyes thundering at her. “We tried,” Cliff explained, hesitant. “But I still felt…” His eyes wandered over her body, absorbing her curvature in a frank, obvious way that was new. The way his gaze slid around her breasts and down her stomach, creeping across her pussy and thighs, made Eve tingle.

“Eeeeve!” Cliff’s sister, Chelsea, called from downstairs. “Cliiiiiff! Come say goodbye to your ever-loving, god-forsaken sister!”

The spell was broken, the air suddenly seeming to become dull and cool again. Cliff exhaled and stood up. Eve’s lip kinked up into a sheepish smile and she touched her fingertips to her forehead. “You might want to give it a minute,” she suggested lightly.

Cliff looked down and guffawed. His erection was truly monstrous. “Be down in a minute, Chel!”