Chapter 6
I look down at my phone for a time check. Shit. I’m running late to pick Timmy up from practice. I needed a few things for dinner. I thought I could run in and out of the grocery store in a few minutes. I had no idea I’d get stuck behind a woman that would challenge the price of every item she self-scanned.
By the time I realize it’s going to take a while, the other lanes are three people deep, and everyone has a full load of groceries. I don’t want to be late and hold Mr. Carter up. We haven’t spoken in two weeks since sharing dinner together at the diner.
I don’t want him to think I’m taking advantage of his kindness and using him as a babysitter for Timmy. Especially since I’ve been able to successfully avoid him.
At the meets I make a point to leave the building as soon as the last match is over. I’m careful to keep my wandering eyes focused on the mats and off of Mr. Carter. The few times since then that we’ve made eye contact, I force myself to break it.
I understand the vibes I’m putting out there. He probably thinks I’m a bitch, which is fine. Let him think I’m a flake. His opinion of me shouldn’t matter. Still, he makes a point to always smile and wave when he sees me. There have been three meets since we spoke last, and while I see Timmy getting stronger and matching well against his opponents, he still hasn’t won a match, or scored any points. I toss my bag of groceries on the passenger seat and look behind me as I back out of the spot.
I switch gears, putting the car into drive when a loud noise, like something breaking sounds as something slams into me from behind, and lurches me forward into the car parked in the space next to me. I’m so surprised, it takes a minute for me to realize what happened.
Fuck! This was the last thing I needed.
Before I get out, onlookers approach both me and the elderly woman in the car behind me. Every other shopping trip I run into someone I know, a neighbor, or a mother from Timmy’s school. This is the one time I really need to see a familiar face, and none are to be found.
“I called the police for you,” a kind gentleman informs me once I step out to assess the damage. “They’ll be here in a few minutes.”
Only I don’t have a few minutes because I’m already late. My car looks like an accordion. How can there be so much damage from such a small hit? The air bags didn’t even deploy.
“Are you okay?” A shopping cart attendant asks. Voices and noise fill the air around me.
Sirens whine coming closer by the second. I can’t leave without a police report. This is such a bad time of the day for this to happen. My friends are still working and my parents are forty-five minutes away. With the rush hour traffic they’ll hit half way here, it will take them at least an hour. I don’t have that long. I need to get Timmy now.
Two squad cars, and an ambulance come speeding into the parking lot. Before the first cop car stops I reach for my phone and send my son a message.
Me: I’m going to be a while. See if you can get a ride with one of your friend’s moms.
Timmy: They’re all gone. How much longer?
Me: Not sure. Was in a car accident at the grocery store. I’m fine. But not sure how long I’ll be.
Turns out the woman wanted my spot. She put her blinker on and then instead of hitting the brake to stop the car, she stepped on the accelerator. While I’m relieved that she owned up to her mistake, I’m annoyed at the situation.
The elderly woman holding her head, is taken by ambulance to the hospital to be checked out. I’m stuck here waiting for the officer taking the report to give me back my license, registration and insurance card. I can’t go anywhere without them.
“Are you able to drive?” The officer asks me.
“I guess.” Looking at the car, I’m not sure it’s safe to drive.
“Mom!”
I turn at the sound of my son’s voice. He rushes toward me and almost knocks me down wrapping his arms around me. I kiss his head and stroke his hair.
“Hey, buddy. I’m okay.”
“Are you sure?”
He looks up at me, his eyes wide and frightened. For a moment, I lose time. He’s not the brooding thirteen year old that shuts me out at every turn. He’s my baby boy. I want to hold on to this moment.
“Yes.” I squeeze him for emphasis. “I’m fine. How’d you get here? Who brought you?”
As I ask the question, I look up and see Chance Carter walking towards us. My heart thrums in time with his steps. I can’t believe he’s here. This must have put a wrench in his plans for the evening. I feel awful.
“Mr. Carter,” I say as the man approaches. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hold you up.”
“How are you?” He looks annoyed, maybe even angry, as his dark, turbulent eyes look me over.
“The car got the brunt of it,” I say, looking over at the car.
He follows my glance, and breathes heavy before looking back at me. “Now tell me how you really are?” He takes my trembling hand in his. His voice is rich with emotion.
I must have gotten hit harder than I think because this man’s reaction doesn’t make sense. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he’s worried about me. I should reassure him that I didn’t get hurt, but I don’t think he’s asking about my physical state.
“Shaken up.”
“That’s what I thought,” he says, still holding my shaking hand. My nerves have the best of me. Only now, I’m not sure what’s affecting me more, his touch, or the accident.
“Here you go miss.” The officer with my information approaches us. I pull my hand out of the warmth of Mr. Carter’s strong, soothing, grasp, and reach for my documents. “The report should be ready in three to five business days. You can come to the precinct and pick it up.”
“Thank you, sir” I watch him walk away, then turn to my son. “Get in the car so I can get this heap home.”
“Like hell.”
I’m taken back. Stunned into silence. He did not just say that. Did I hit my head? Is hearing things a sign of a concussion?
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I ask, annoyed at the privilege he took in speaking to me like that.
I look up at him, noticing for the first time how close he’s standing to me. Close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. Close enough that I feel his body heat gathering around me and enveloping me like a warm blanket.
“You’re shaken up and you don’t know what condition the car is in. No way are you getting behind the wheel.”
“I have to. I need to move it, and I need to get home.”
He shoves his hands deep in his pockets and stands to his full height, chest out. “I’m taking you home.”
The way he says it, so strong and matter of fact, he leaves no room for discussion. Normally it would piss me off, but right now, I actually like it. I don’t bother to protest. For a change, I don’t want to play the part of the strong independent woman. I’m not up to it right now. I’ve played that part for the last two years. I’d like a reprieve. Even better, I like who’s giving it to me even more.
“I already caused enough trouble for you.”
“How so?”
“Won’t you get in trouble for bringing Timmy here?”
“Only if someone saw. Doesn’t matter though. It was my choice to throw him in the car. I’ll deal with the consequences.”
“No. Mr. Carter . . .” His eyebrow shoots up as he stabs me with a pointed look. He must want me to call him by his name. “You shouldn’t have, Chance.”
“How else was he going to get here? He turned white when he got your message. It was the right thing to do.” His thumb presses on his bottom lip, reminding me of how much I’d like to get acquainted with those lips. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”
Heartbeat. I wonder if he has any idea how off kilter mine is right now. It’s racing and doing hurdles. The cool breeze carries a whiff of his cologne straight to my nose, causing a shiver to run up my spine. It’s subtle, but it’s undeniably him. A little outdoors, and a little spice. I recognize it from the previous times we spoke. I want to throw myself against his chest, lay my head on his shoulder and breathe him in.
Without asking, Chance takes his jacket off and wraps it around my shoulders. I pull it tighter around me, getting high on his scent. My chest tightens. I shouldn’t like being this close to him. I shouldn’t enjoy how comfortable I feel around this man. How much I enjoy the little touches. Or the intoxicating feeling I get in my belly, like a drunk group of birds and butterflies congregate together and tumble around when he looks at me and smiles.
I shouldn’t like any of this because he’s my son’s coach. That’s not even the worst part. I shouldn’t like any of this because Chance Carter is at least a decade younger than me, if not two, and the more time I spend around him, the more I allow myself to fantasize about something actually happening between us.
I’ve heard that younger men are into older women. There’s the Milf and cougar movements, which I don’t really get. I always thought guys were into younger women. Regardless, I never even noticed younger men. Until a few weeks ago when Mr. Cater stopped to speak to me on the school steps.
He inches closer to me and holds the jacket lapel. My brain short circuits. I’m so fried between the accident and his proximity, I can only stare in silence pretending I understand what he’s saying as his full pouty lips move.
“My friend owns a body shop. He’ll pick up your car and drop something off for you to use in the meantime.”
“Body shops don’t do that.”
His teeth graze his bottom lip a moment before he continues. “Don’t worry you’re pretty little head. I’ve got this.”
I think I should be insulted at being dismissed, but I’m not. I’m relieved. It feels good to have someone help pick up the broken pieces around me for a change.
I nod, and take my son’s hand in mine as I move to the side and allow Chance Carter to re-park my car. Timmy doesn’t say anything about his coach’s comment or the fact that I’m wearing his jacket. Maybe I’m making too much of it, because this man stirs up a yearning in me I thought was dead?
“Come on, Tim,” Mr. Carter says, placing his big, strong hand on my lower back. “Lead the way.” He gestures with his other hand, encouraging my son to walk in front of us.
As we walk the few feet to his car, I peek at him through the corner of my eye. He’s calm, cool and in control. Not to mention sexy as fuck. His confidence has me mesmerized. Under a spell. For a few brief seconds, his hand slips from my back and moves around my waist. He pulls me closer, so that I’m right up against him.
It’s hard to swallow when he keeps taking my breath away like this.
Timmy gets into the back seat, as if he knows what’s expected and we do this all the time. Mr. Carter walks me around to the passenger seat, and stops dead in his tracks. He stares at me for a long moment before leaning in. My heart pounds like a drum agains my chest, waiting to see what he does. His mouth is alongside my ear as he reaches for the handle to open the door for me.
“Don’t push me away,” he whispers. His breath tickles my ear and sends shivers down my spine.