Beauty and the Mustache

“Oh… let’s see….”

I decided that my mother had said quite enough. I didn’t need Drew hearing about how my brother Jethro had frequently tried to use dates with me as a trade with his football buddies for whatever he wanted from them. Jethro always said I was doing him a favor, but it felt suspiciously like I was being pimped out, especially when one of his eighteen-year-old friends insisted that I—a mere fifteen-year-old—was expected to put out.

Of course, another great example was the twins’ preferred method of demonstrating their affection for me by rubbing their dirty underwear on my head—skid marks and all—or holding me down and spitting in my mouth.

But then, boys will be boys, as my daddy liked to say. I had to give my father credit because, in the end, he was right. Boys will be boys. And that’s why I knew better than to open my heart to one.

I shifted my limbs restlessly under the covers and stretched my arms over my head. As I’d hoped, their conversation came to a halt. Fluttering my eyelashes as if coming fully awake, I turned my neck and glanced blandly around the room. I let my eyes move to my mother first, then to where Drew sat twisted in the chair facing me.

“Oh,” I said when my gaze met his, my voice husky with sleep. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”

His eyes ensnared mine, held me immobilized. Back was the weird intensity and heat, but now I saw it for what it was—reluctant desire.

What I’d suspected last night after he called me sexy was confirmed this morning while eavesdropping; Drew liked me—or, at least the way I looked—a whole heck of a lot. And that’s probably why he acted like Mr. Itchy Britches whenever I was around.

I knew exactly how he felt. Finding him handsome definitely gave me sand in my cracks. Everything about being attracted to him was inconvenient: wrong place, wrong time, wrong person.

But after sleeping on my hissy fit the night before, I decided what we needed to do was grow beyond this pattern we’d fallen into of snapping at each other, lapsing into a confusing and heated moment, then avoiding contact for days. We needed to move past the irritation of our mutual attraction and into a nice, safe, placid familial space.

The jury was still out on the rest of his intentions and life experience told me to be wary of handsome men wielding compliments. If we could reach a compromise where his intentions were made innocuous by defined roles, then maybe we could relax around each other.

Momma’s slow speech cut through the thick silence. “Everything is fine. Andrew and I were just talking about how beautiful you are.”

I smiled inwardly at my mother and her cheeky antics then let my eyes slide back to Drew. He also wore a smile; it was small and patient.

“Well, don’t let me stop you,” I said, swinging my legs over the side of the cot and reaching for my bathrobe. “Please, continue speaking of my beauty.”

My mother laughed lightly then sighed. “When does Marissa get here? I promised her a recipe yesterday.”

“Which one?”

“Mother’s biscuits.”

I nodded, knowing the recipe. “If you want me to, I’ll transcribe it for you.”

“No. Just get me the card and I can do it. I’d like to use my hands for something useful.”

I caught Drew’s eye and indicated with my head that he should follow me. His eyebrows lifted in what I guessed was surprise. Nevertheless, he stood, left North and South on the wooden chair where he’d been sitting, and turned to my mother.

“I’ve got to get going. But I’ll be back tonight.”

“That’s fine, dear,” she slurred, giving him a hazy smile.

Drew exited the room first, giving me a quizzical look.

“I’ll be right back, Momma. I’m going to brush my teeth.”

“Please do. For heavens’ sake, I didn’t want to say anything, but you’ve been looking rough the last few weeks. Maybe go get a facial and a hairstyle. While you’re at it, get your nails done.” She laughed lightly and winked at me. “Take your time, dear. I’m fixin’ to take a little cat nap.”

I crossed to her bed and gave her a kiss on the forehead. Her eyes were already closed. When I left the room, I closed the door behind me.

Drew was waiting for me in the hall, his arms crossed over his chest, his expression both solemn and curious.

We both started speaking at the same time.

“Can we just….”

“I need to tell you….”

He sighed and closed his eyes. I glanced at the ceiling.

“Please, you go first,” I said, fiddling with the tie of my robe.

He gave me a measured look, but he relented. “I thought I saw an Indiana Bat in your backyard last week while I was here. It’s an endangered species in this part of the forest. Since your property backs up to the park, it’s not unheard of to have sightings from time to time.”

“Okay.” This news and conversation topic took me completely by surprise. I thought he was going to fuss at me for my poor behavior. Instead, he was discussing game warden business. “What does that mean?”

“It means the fiber-optic cable that’s buried in your front yard, which is being used by the county, has been hooked up to the house. We’re going to put cameras facing the park off the back porch, hoping to catch one of the Indiana Bats.”

I nodded and shrugged. “That’s fine.”

“It also means you’ll have free Internet access—really fast Internet access. I installed a router this morning.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to me. “Here’s the login and password for the wireless. You can choose your own, of course.”

I stared at him, my mouth falling open by inches. My mind might be moving like a river of molasses these days, but I caught his drift and then some. He’d had Internet connected to the house. I could now call my friends in Chicago. I could now Skype with them on Tuesdays.

My eyes stung, and a rush of gratefulness swelled in my chest. Drew held my gaze, his own cautious and watchful.

“Thank you,” I blurted. “Thank you so, so much.” Instinct told me to hug him, but something about his glare told me that hugging him would be a mistake.

In the end, I squeezed his bicep. “Thank you,” I repeated, my eyes going to where my hand rested on his bare arm. Four jagged white lines caught my attention and I frowned, speaking before I thought better of it.

“What on earth…? What happened to your arm?” I stepped closer, inspecting the scars.

“Ah, that was a bear.” He said this matter-of-factly, like everyone has a bear scar.

My eyes lifted to his, and I’m sure my face betrayed my incredulousness. “A bear? You got these from a bear?”

He nodded.

“What? When? How?” My attention went back to the scars. They were ugly, like the bear had tried to take his arm off.

“I go trail running in the morning. Sometimes one or more of your brothers come; sometimes I’m alone. Sometimes there are bears on the trails.” He shrugged like everyone goes on runs with bears. “Usually they leave me alone.”

“How long is the trail?”

“Anywhere from six to twelve miles.”

“And this time the bear…what—he wanted to take your arm and beat you with it?”

He grinned down at me. “No, Sugar, and it was a she bear. A momma bear can get testy if you come between her and her cubs.”

“How did you get away?”

“I carry a tranquilizer gun strapped to my back when I run. I shot it, but it took a swipe at me before it went down.”

“Oh, my God.” I shook my head. “You are a lunatic. If you had a Viking name it would be Drew the Thrill-Seeker or Drew Never-A-Dull-Moment.”

His grin dimmed to a small, perplexed smile like he didn’t know whether or not my poking fun was mean spirited.

I frowned at the confusion casting a shadow over his features. “What’s wrong? What’d I say?”

He shook his head, studying me as though trying to determine my intentions. “Nothing.”

But it was something. I’d inadvertently said something to diminish the brightness in his eyes. I decided to let it go for now and let my hand drop. “Anyway…again, thank you.”

“No need for thanks.” He cleared his throat. “What did you want to tell me?”

“Oh, yeah.” I’d almost forgotten. The gift of Internet connectivity and the bear attack story had driven all thoughts from my mind. I tucked the piece of paper that held the wireless password into the pocket of my robe.

Preparing myself for the conversation to come, I planted my feet and took a deep breath, determined to move us out of our perpetual loop of snarkiness. “Drew, I want to apologize for calling you an ass last night. That was very rude, especially after you fed me dinner and pie. I hope you will accept my apology.”

Drew’s jaw ticked, his mouth a flat straight line, but his eyes were vibrant and vivid quicksilver, traveling over my face. I had to wait several seconds before he gave me a stiff nod.

“Good.” I sighed my relief and eyeballed him. Good….” I repeated, not knowing what else to say. I was trying to gauge his mood, and wondered if now would be a good time to broach the subject of a ceasefire. I’d known him three weeks, but after eavesdropping on that conversation between him and my mother, I realized I barely knew him at all.