Chapter Thirteen
After a long week of jitters and anticipation, Saturday was finally here. As Kat, Mia, and Jade turned the corner the sound of a lawnmower had her heart jumping into overdrive. Jade sent her a sidelong glance.
“Momma, Tyson’s back!” Mia cheered. “Hi, Tyson!”
The mower silenced as they paused at the edge of his property. He wore work boots, jeans, and a bandana—but no shirt. Removing his canvas gloves, he clapped them against his thigh and smiled, stealing her breath. Snippets of grass misted in his wake as he sauntered toward them. “Hello, ladies.”
Pent up tension eased in a rush as she met his gaze. God, she’d missed him. “Hi.” It was difficult not to throw her arms around him, but she had to be mindful of Mia.
“We went to a birthday party!” Mia said by way of greeting.
“Did you?” He crouched to her level. “And whose birthday was it?”
“Dr. Stevens’. I made the cake!”
“Oh, well then, I bet it was delicious. Did you save me a piece?”
Mia looked at Kat and she shook her head. “We forgot,” Mia apologized.
Tyson dramatically pouted. Trixie barked from the backyard and her guilt vanished as she ran after the dog.
“Nice party?” Tyson asked as he stood up.
Her stomach did a cartwheel, as she mutely nodded.
“The party was okay,” Jade answered, since Kat had suddenly lost her ability to speak in more than juvenile twitters and giggles. “It was your run of the mill, sixty-eight year old’s birthday bash—amateur beer pong tourney, topless women in hot tubs, keg stands at every corner—you know what it’s like at those senior citizen shindigs. I’ll tell you, that Mrs. Bradshaw can really throw back the shots.”
He laughed. “Typical.” His smiling eyes turned to her. “And what are your plans tonight, Kat?”
Gaze drilled into hers, full of dark secrets and intentions, she could easily agree to anything he asked. “Just hanging out at home.”
“That so?” His slow, intense regard was a weighted caress. “How’d you like to have dinner with me?”
Like a dip of a rollercoaster, her belly whooshed as every butterfly spun into a summersault. “I’d love to, but it would have to be someplace Mia can go.”
“I’m free tonight,” Jade chimed in. “Mia and I can have another sleepover.”
A slow, satisfied grin worked over Tyson’s face. “Now see that. What a nice friend. Thanks, Jade. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
She smiled tightly, trying not to appear too anxious. “Okay.”
At seven o’clock sharp there was a soft knock at the door. Kat didn’t know where they were going, so she wore black capris, a white halter-top, and dressed it up with strappy sandals. When she opened the door Tyson held a bouquet of lavender roses, but her eyes were more fixated on the forest green suit jacket he wore over a fitted, black t-shirt.
“Good evening, beautiful.” That deep, husky voice rolled through her, sending quivers to the depths of her belly.
A seductive half smile highlighted his dimple as he stepped through the door and brushed a soft kiss across her lips. Her panties were about to spontaneously combust.
“These are for you,” he whispered against her mouth.
Pulling in a long, slow breath, she steadied her nerves and poorly disguised the affect he was having on her. He smelled magnificent. Thrills of anticipation rocked her composure. She’d never survive this man.
Voice hoarse, she whispered, “Thank you.” Turning, she spotted the flowers from Dawson, still fresh in a vase on her kitchen table. “Let me put these in some water.”
She picked up Dawson’s flowers, walked to the trashcan, and dumped them into the container without ceremony. Tyson chucked and crossed his arms in a casual pose, observing her, as she arranged the new roses.
Pleased, she replaced the vase on the table. “Am I dressed okay? I didn’t know where we were going.”
“You look perfect. We’re going to a quiet little place nearby.”
She grabbed her purse and shut out the lights. He held her hand as they walked toward his driveway. It was a path she’d taken a thousand times, but never with such meaning behind each step.
“I hope you’re hungry,” he said as they passed his driveway.
“We’re eating here?”
“Do you mind? It was my first chance to really cook in my kitchen.” He opened the door and mouthwatering aromas greeted.
“You cook?”
Deep cherry woodwork and spacious granite countertops were set in soft lighting. Lots of natural materials and autumnal tones blended with brushed copper accents. The lights were dimmed and a female blues singer vocalized sultry classics from hidden speakers throughout the house.
Removing her purse, he placed it on the counter. “I do all right. Come with me.”
Her breath left in a whoosh as they entered the dining room. The long, formal table was draped in white linen and set with red glass dishes that glowed amber in the candlelight. A bottle of Champagne chilled in a silver ice bucket next to two ruby stemmed champagne flutes.
Holy crap. Remember this, because it’s doubtful anyone will ever do something this romantic for you again.
“Are you impressed?”
She was breathless. “Very.”
He pulled out her chair and poured champagne. “I have to check on something in the kitchen. Make yourself comfortable.”
Her cheeks heated as she grinned at the incredible presentation, unsure if she’d ever seen something so spectacular. Sure, her mother was the queen of overdone dinner parties, but this was different. This was intimate and thoughtful and—dear lord, if he didn’t return soon she was going to cry like a big ninny.
The kitchen door swung open as he returned with two plates. “I thought we’d start with salad.”
Colorful lettuce leaves mixed with cranberries, walnuts, pear wedges, and crumbles of cheese. She laid her napkin, thinking the salad was a meal in itself. “There’s more?”
“There’s more. Dig in.”
As they ate, she asked him about the house and he described some of the amenities added during the remodeling, such as his built-in sound system and the heated tile floor in the master bath. It seemed Tyson was a man who enjoyed life’s comforts.
After the salad he brought out two red martini glasses filled with a raspberry sorbet he called an intermezzo. It was cool and refreshing and tickled her tongue. The length he’d gone to prepare such fine touches swiftly overwhelmed her.
The main course was lobster tail nestled against a plump cut of filet mignon. She stared at him.
“What?” he laughed, sitting down.
She shook her head. “You’re unbelievable. You did all of this yourself?”
He actually blushed. “Well, I called my sister about thirty times this afternoon, but I did all the work myself.”
She shook her head. “Tyson… This is the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
He squeezed her hand. “Well, that, Kitten, is a pity. You’re always going out of your way to put other people’s comforts before your own. You deserve to be treated more often.”
She was completely overwhelmed by the emotions welling in her heart. She hadn’t prepared for this. “You’re gonna make me cry. And I think you’ve seen me do that enough.”
He laughed. “I’m okay with tears of happiness. It’s the other sort that rips me up. Here, taste the lobster. Dip it in this. I got the recipe from a chef I designed a kitchen for last year.”
The lobster, like everything else, was out of this world. By the time she finished half her entre she was ready to burst.
“I still have one more thing,” he said, as he disappeared into the kitchen, returning a moment later with a glass dish.
“What are these?” She breathed in the sweet fragrance. Maybe she wasn’t full.
“They’re baked pears. I soak them in rum and bake them in a caramelized brandy sauce. It’s an old family recipe. My great-great grandfather used to work for a family that owned a plantation and grew apples and pears. Every year, they would steal some of the bruised fruit that fell out of the bushels and put them in jars of alcohol. During the holidays they’d pulled out the jars, eat the pears, and get piss drunk.” He laughed.
She tasted a piece of the warm fruit and moaned in appreciation. The sweet brown sugar complemented the spiced flavor of rum as a trace of cloves hit her tongue. The effect of the alcohol-saturated dessert was slow, but potent, leaving her quite relaxed.
“Where do your parents live?” he asked, settling back in his chair.
She sipped her champagne, the bubbles tickling her like a coming sneeze. “Parkside. When I was little we had a regular house, but after my dad’s first term as Mayor we moved into a much bigger home.”
“How long has he held a position in office?”
“He’s always been involved in politics. Over the years he just moved up the ladder one election at a time.”
His gaze was soft, never seeming distracted. He had great communication skills, the ability to hold a person’s eye contact without appearing to stare. “You don’t sound all that impressed with his success.”
She shrugged. “My dad and I aren’t that close. Since Mia, he barely speaks beyond common courtesies. We have a very superficial relationship.”
Realizing her father wasn’t a topic she cared to discuss, he moved on to a topic that would put her at ease. “Mia’s an incredible kid. She was hilarious when we were painting the doghouse. She had all sorts of advice for me.”
Kat laughed. That was her daughter. “Oh, I’m sure she did. Mia’s a self-proclaimed expert on all things.”
“You know,” he said with a smirk. “She told me her mother’s an artist too.”
Her cheeks heated. “No.”
“No?” His dimple winked. “I heard you used to paint portraits.”
Painting was a pastime she rarely had time to enjoy anymore. She’d all but forgotten her talent. Her art supplies sat, neglected in a dark corner of her bedroom closet, and she should probably throw them away. She wistfully sighed. “I used to paint, but since having Mia I really haven’t had the time. I don’t even know if I still could. I’m extremely rusty.”
“You know, in the newspaper I saw the community center’s offering a water color class. It’s only ten dollars, because volunteers are running the program.”
The temptation of taking up the old, cathartic hobby was temping. And ten dollars wasn’t much. “I didn’t know that. When?”
“It starts next week. I think it’s a three week summer program and there’s a second series of classes in the fall. You should do it. It’s only one night a week.”
She weighed the pros and cons in her head. “It would be tough to arrange a sitter on such short notice. I have a feeling my Mom isn’t really happy with me right now.”
“I could watch Mia.”
“No…” There really wasn’t any reason why he couldn’t. Kat trusted him. Mia adored him. But she didn’t want to impose.
“Why not? It would be fun. The classes are only two hours. You’d get some time to yourself and Mia could advise me on life.”
Kat laughed. “Two hours with a three-year-old isn’t as easy as it sounds.”
“I know, but I think I’m up for the challenge. Come on, Kat, do something for yourself. Take the class. It’s only ten bucks and only three weeks.”
She mentally calculated her finances. She had some old books she could trade in at the used bookstore. They would probably add up to ten dollars. Was it really that complicated? Her teeth pressed into her lower lip and she smiled. “Okay.”
He grinned. “That’s my girl.”
His girl.
They sipped champagne and the conversation turned to family. “Tell me about your sisters,” she said.
A fond expression crossed his face. “Which one?”
His youngest sister had passed away. Maybe she shouldn’t have asked about his family. “We don’t have to talk about them if you don’t want to.”
“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind.” He took a deep breath and leaned back, his expression thoughtful. “Phia and I were closest. I’m closer in age to Gloria, but she always moved with a different crowd. Sophia was more like my little sidekick. She followed me around when I was a teenager and used to drive me nuts.”
He gave a sad smile. “When she became an adult we really got close. She’d come over to my apartment every Sunday at the butt crack of dawn to drag my ass out of bed to go to some flea market in the middle of nowhere. She always found these odd, tucked away markets, the kind that looked like they came in with a band of gypsies the night before.”
“I love places like that.”
He sighed. “I never did, but I sort of miss them now. We’d browse the booths for hours, but never really buy anything. She usually found some piece of junk she needed to have. Her apartment had more decorations than a Christmas tree.”
“She sounds interesting. Eccentric.”
“She was that. She was good, you know? Never really got mad at anybody, had a way of telling you how it is without being too pushy. She was a cool girl. I’m sorry she never got to have children or a husband. She would have been a great mother and wife.” His thumb glided up the side of his glass, his gaze seeming to be stuck on a distant memory only he could see. “I miss her.”
Her chest tightened with vicarious grief. His voice had gone hoarse as a glassy sheen of tears glazed his eyes. She leaned forward and gently clasped his hand. “I’m sorry you lost her.”
He nodded and cleared his throat. “Gloria is completely different. She’s like a thundercloud, always moving, loud, moods powerful enough to clear out a room. You’ll see when you meet her. People either love her or hate her.”
It struck her as odd that they might know she existed. “Does your family know about me?”
“I’ve talked to Gloria and my mom about you,” he said, his cheeks darkening.
“And what did you tell them?” Insane curiosity had her sitting a little straighter.
“I told them I had my eye on a hot little woman two houses down.”
She giggled. “No, you didn’t.”
“Sure, I did.”
“What did they say?”
He laughed. “My momma told me it was only a matter of time before you realized what a catch I am. Gloria… She told me I was an idiot, but in her own twisted way she said it with love and wished me luck.”
The conversation turned to work. He inquired about her job and other parts of her life. She loved hearing how he started Adams Construction with only a thousand dollars in his bank account and the determination of a thousand men in his heart.
She told him about the night she had Mia and how hard she fought to keep her, the promises she made to always protect her, and how instantly and completely she fell in love when she held her that first time. Conversation flowed as if they’d known each other for years.
“Do you dance?” he suddenly asked.
“Only in my kitchen when no one’s looking.”
“Dance with me.” He smoothly pulled her to her feet, fitting her into his hold.
They swayed as the singer crooned words of love accompanied by soft piano and the plunking melody of fingers scraping along the strings of an acoustic guitar. It was warm, wrapped in the lyrical, bluesy mood of the song and Tyson’s arms.
Her eyes closed as she leaned into him. “This is nice.”
They leisurely rocked back and forth, his fluid baritone sometimes mixing with the words. Peace.
As the song ended, he continued to hold her. Her fingertips traced slow, lazy circles over his lower back. She was getting braver when it came to touching him. They held each other, swaying in the comfortable silence.
“Stay with me tonight?”
Easing back to look in his eyes, the answer came to her with little hesitance. “I’d love to.”