Hattie Mae
I awaken to the sounds of birds chirping and insects buzzing. My head is pounding. I squint, trying to avoid the sunlight that is beaming down over me with warmth. The night before comes rushing back—me in Zane’s truck, nuzzling up against him, and purring like a cat in heat. Oh my God! I can never look at him again. Ever.
My cheeks redden. I don’t remember even getting into my bed. Did Zane have to carry me in? My head continues to throb as I attempt to retrace how I got into my bed. Slowly peeling my blanket back, I am only in my bra and panties. If he stripped me down and copped a feel I will kill him. But there is that whole I am never going to look at him again thing. So there goes that plan. I slip on a tank that is lying on the floor and stumble my way to my bathroom.
After washing my face and brushing my teeth, I work my way into the kitchen for some aspirin and water. I am so thirsty. I quickly down a glass and my pain reliever. Immediately, I fill my glass again and start to chug, and then I get choked and spit the water out as I see him…Zane. He is sleeping on my couch peacefully and very much only in his boxer briefs.
Regaining my breath and composure before I awaken him, I seriously debate on slipping out before he wakes. Shit. Did we mess around last night? I can’t help but blush at the thought as I remember the way he felt pressed against me on the dance floor. Oh hell, the dance floor. I wanted him. I asked him for a ride and not just for a ride in his truck!
Breathe, Hattie.
Think!
I press my fingers to my temples and rub softly to alleviate some of the pressure. A soft moan leaves his throat. I can’t help but look over at him and wonder what he is dreaming about.
He is way too big for my tiny couch, it is almost comical. His tan, lean, muscular body is draped over the cushions and his feet are hanging over the arm. He cannot be comfortable. Serves him right for getting an unwarranted peek at my goods.
I don’t know what to do. I grab my phone from the counter as it begins to vibrate with a text from Kiesha.
K: I was going to ask how last night went, but considering I can see Zane’s truck parked at your trailer… it went really good. ;)
Me: This is all your fault and no we didn’t do anything. At least I don’t think. Shit! He is asleep on my couch. What do I do?
K: There is a hot guy on your couch, stop talking to me and go give him a happy wake up!
Me: No! I need to get him out of here before the whole trailer park is gossiping about us.
K: LOL! You totally told on yourself I was only kidding about the truck.
Me: I hate you!
K: Have fun! I am currently discussing your love life with Bert and Henrietta
Well that is just great. Bert and Henrietta are the nosiest bunch of old turds ever. Knowing Henrietta, she will have everyone thinking Zane and I are married by tomorrow. I throw my phone onto the counter with too much force and it makes a banging noise. I groan, afraid to see if I just cracked my screen.
I suddenly feel uncomfortable as I feel a hand on my shoulder. “Good mornin’, Hattie Mae.”
I freeze as I realize Zane is standing incredibly close in his undies and I am only dressed in a skimpy tank and mine. Thank the Lord…I am wearing pretty panties. It really isn’t any different than him seeing me in my swimsuit for work but there is something intimate about panties. He removes his hand and starts going through my cabinets like this is a normal everyday occurrence. My skin feels seared where his hand was resting against me.
I have got to stop these thoughts about Zane. He has a long list of women and I don’t know why I care all the sudden.
“So,” I start, trying to be casual. “You know you have your own home to go to and find whatever it is you are looking for.” Why is he still here? I don’t want to be rude. However, shouldn’t he be gone already? If my memory serves me correctly, he is not the kind of man who spends the night. Ever.
He grins lazily. “We are becoming friends and friends have breakfast together.” He brushes up against me, opening my drawer I keep my silverware in. He smells good. Sigh…his skin touching mine feels too good. It doesn’t feel friendly at all.
“I don’t recall inviting you for breakfast.” I smirk, being smart with him. Did I just flirt with him? Why am I flirting with him and liking it when he smiles at me like that?
“If I recall correctly. You invited me to do so much more.”
I can’t believe I acted that way last night. I don’t know if I should apologize or what, but he is probably used to it. An awkward silence stretches between us and I am unsure what to do or say.
He uses my bathroom and I try to remember to breathe as I think about him being in my bathroom practically naked, but then I get a visual of him peeing and that is just weird.
His breath is still sticking to my ear as he continues making himself at home, cooking my eggs, and frying my bacon. I leave him to it and go back to my small bedroom to get dressed. I make my bed, pick up my dirty laundry, anything to avoid going back in there with him. I don’t want to see anyone with the way my head is feeling. It feels as if there is an army of miniature carpenters hammering nails into my skull.
Thankfully, I am off today so I can hide all day. I don’t want to deal with people pressing me for gossip about Zane and our friend status. As large as this place is, it sometimes seems so small seeing how everyone seems to know each other’s business. I swear Kiesha knows what I am doing before I do it most days.
“You alive back there,” Zane calls from the kitchen.
“Yeah, just a minute.”
I will let Zane stay for breakfast but then he has got to go. I have a book I have been dying to read waiting for me and today is the perfect day to spend with one of my book boyfriends.
Leaving on my tank, I pull my denim cutoffs on over my hips. My boobs are popping out a bit, so I add a white and maroon checked button down over them. Guess loving checkered shirts runs in the family.
Running my brush through my hair, I smooth out the tangles from the previous night. A dab of Chap Stick and some mascara finishes me off.
Back in the small kitchen, Zane has the eggs ready but the bacon not so much. He shoves a plate of scrambled eggs in my direction.
“Thanks.”
We eat our eggs in awkward silence and he flips the bacon as it crackles and pops. He has the temperature up too high. Grease splatters, landing on my arm. I bite into something hard, and I stick the tip of my tongue out and remove a piece of eggshell. Discreetly, I put the piece of shell in a napkin and shove my plate away telling him that my stomach isn’t ready for real food. At least he tried.
“Are you working today?” He asks with a gleam in his eye.
I want to lie and answer yes but before my brain can register the thought, I spit out an eager, “No.” Really, Hattie, calm down, I scold myself mentally. I act as if a good-looking man has never showed me any attention. And this is Zane. The man has tried everything under the sun to get in my pants. Hell, he gets in everyone’s pants.
“Good, I want to take you somewhere. Do you have boots?” he asks as he finishes burning the bacon.
I nod, curious as to where he could want to take me. Pulling my boots from my storage tote that holds my shoes, I slip them on and grab my phone and keys as Zane leads me to his truck after getting dressed. Thank God, he put some clothes on. I was going to ask him about his tattoos, but I didn’t want him to think I was gawking at him. Well I kind of was but still…he has a four-leaf clover on his right shoulder blade. Is that what brings him so much luck with all the women?
“I need to stop by my place for a minute. That alright with you?” He really isn’t asking but I answer that it is anyway.
I get into the cab of his pickup and try to sit as far away from him as I can.
“You know, you can let go of the handle and relax,” he says, gazing at me with his eyes all soft and dreamy.
No, I can’t, I think to myself. Because if I let go, I am going to give in to his wicked charm and paw at him like a bearcat getting its last meal. I am starving for a man and Zane isn’t just any man. He is a man that has the ability to hurt me if I’m not careful. I like him much more than I should. This crush has long left the crush station. I like him a lot.