Tiffany

 

 

 

“Your mother’s sweet,” I said before shoving a fork full of chicken into my mouth. Trying to fill it so I wouldn’t have to talk anymore.

Greg smiled and turned toward his mom, taking her hand in his.

“She makes sure every woman I go out with is good enough for me. She’s the perfect judge of character,” he said.

I almost threw up the dry chicken I had swallowed.

“My little Greggy never told me how you two met?” the robust woman with a black, protruding mole on her cheek asked.

The mole matched her short, curly hair, which matched her son’s hairstyle as well. Even their outfits—plaid button-up shirts and khaki pants—appeared to be planned to coordinate.

“Through a dating app. It helps single men and women find locals with similar interests,” I said and forced another piece of chicken in my mouth.

Despite my dinner being a bit overdone with very little flavor, I had to distract myself from this abysmal date.

After what almost happened between Jagger and me four days ago, I knew I had to do something, and quickly. I liked Jagger, but I was looking for someone that valued safety and support for my family.

While I knew very little about Jagger’s job—other than it was secret and he worked for the government—I knew even less about the man himself. I thought he would tell me something about his life over dinner the other night, but he only wanted to know about me. Every time I asked about his past, he would change the subject or explain there wasn’t anything to discuss. Everyone has a past, yet he acted like he didn’t.

And when I asked anything about his job, his response was, I’m not at liberty to discuss that with you.

I had no doubt that Jagger was good at what he did but was it dangerous? I had a feeling it was, and I’m not about to put David or me at risk because Jagger had a tight butt. Or that he had the ability to see into my soul and made me weep in the park last week. Or that my heart melted when he helped David out with those bullies when they tried to steal his skateboard.

No, that wasn’t important. Safety, that’s what counted. There’s been too much trauma in my life, too many losses. I don’t believe I could handle anything like that again.

“An app? Greg, you told me you two met while volunteering at the children’s hospital,” his mother said with a frown that accentuated her mole.

“Oh, he didn’t tell you?” I said, trying to hold back my smile.

Perhaps this morsel of information, which was much juicier than my chicken, would be the knife that killed our date. I felt very little guilt that Greg was breaking out into a sweat and his plaid shirt was sticking to his chest.

His dating profile was completely misleading. Everything, except his photograph, was a lie. I wasn’t disappointed when I saw him tonight. He’s not a bad looking man—slim with handsome features. The frustration came when he led me to a table with his mom. And that wasn’t the worst.

“Tell me what?” his mom asked.

Greg shook his head, pure fear creating lines on his face.

“He’s a doctor. Your son doesn’t volunteer at the hospital. He’s a doctor. Isn’t that right, Greg?”

I knew he wasn’t. My son spent most of his life in and out of that hospital. If Greg worked there, I would have come across him at least enough times to recognize him.

“Greg, you’re not a doctor. You’re the assistant accounting manager at RT Mitchell. Why would you lie to Tiffany? Or to me, your mother?”

We both kept our attention on Greg waiting for an answer, but nothing came. His eyes flickered back and forth between the mother that wondered what happened to her perfect man-child, and me, the date that just wanted to spend a few hours with a normal guy.

“What’s that over there?” Greg pointed to something behind me.

I glanced back but only saw the other patrons enjoying their meals at matching round tables covered in green linen. When I turned back, Greg was maneuvering through the tables, bumping into one and almost knocking it over, on his way toward the front of the restaurant.

“Greg,” his mother yelled as she stood and went after him.

I sat there for a few minutes expecting one of them to come back, but they didn’t.

“Would you like anything else, ma’am?” the waiter asked, who was dressed better than my date in a blue button-up shirt, gray tie, and dark slacks.

“No. I guess I’ll take the check,” I grumbled and made a mental note to punch Greg if I ever see him walking down the street.

After the waiter left, I leaned back in my chair and I wondered if I had been spoiled with men. I met my husband in college; John wasn’t perfect but he was a good man—a wonderful and amazing dad, which was all that mattered.

I remember once I threatened divorce if he didn’t pick up his socks and put them in the hamper. But those were superficial problems. He was incredible where it counted, with his heart.

“The bill has been paid, ma’am,” the waiter said upon returning.

“It has? By whom?”

Maybe Greg redeemed himself a little by paying the bill before he ran off.

“The gentleman at the bar.” He pointed to the long bar that hugged the front of the restaurant.

When I gazed over, there was a fluttering in my heart. My hand cupped my chest, trying to push back the exhilaration. It was just a man after all. Someone I knew, but not a person that I should be having that reaction toward despite his simmering stare.

He stood, his eyes shone and homed in on me as he moved closer.

“Jagger. Thank you for dinner,” I said and only just noticed the waiter had left.

I thought it odd that I hadn’t even realized he was gone. My surprise at discovering Jagger here and staring too long at his hips as he walked over to me must have made me forget there were other people in the room.

“I felt obligated,” Jagger said as he pointed to Greg’s abandoned chair.

I nodded and he took a seat. He looked good, but Jagger always seemed to be wearing something that caught my eye. Tonight, it was a dark navy suit, and it fit him perfectly.

“For what?”

“For the show. I have to admit when I came here tonight to have a drink at the bar, I never expected there would be a comedy show.” The corner of his mouth ticked up.

I gasped and was about to let him have it but when I opened my mouth, laughter spilled out. And the more I laughed, the more his green eyes sparkled. Which finally killed my merriment, replacing it with a meandering heat that settled between my legs.

“I suppose you’re right. The mother and son show was ridiculous. That’s the last time I use the dating app Morgana suggested. I don’t care if it was, as she put it, ‘scary accurate’ when she used it.” I gave another chuckle.

“No, those apps can’t be trusted. In fact,” Jagger leaned closer, lowering his voice, “most men can’t be trusted.”

I angled near so his warm breath slipped down my neck causing my turquoise blouse to flutter around my chest. “Can you?”

His stare fell to my lips, and the ambient noise of the room dimmed to the point I wondered if we had floated away. It took a few moments but Jagger finally answered my question, “No.”

A shiver sparked by the heat of his breath and the chill of his voice ran down my body.

I watched him study me, perhaps memorizing my nose, my cheeks, and my lips. Knowing it was wiser and by his admittance, safer, to have pulled away but I didn’t.

There was something in him that seemed to heave open a door I bolted shut a long time ago. And I was having a terrible time trying to close it again.

“Then you’ll hurt me?” I asked. The anticipation of his answer had me wetting my lips with my tongue.

Jagger scooted forward so his cheek was only an inch away. His body heat became mine. When he tilted his head, I felt the scrape of his stubble.

“I would never hurt you, Tiffany. There are many things I dream of doing to you but nothing that would ever cause you pain.”

His breath was sharp, laced with whiskey, and when he pulled back just enough his lips hovered over mine. If I gasped or shuddered or did anything that caused my head to shift, I knew his lips would be on mine.

There was a tickle in the back of my chest that grew with each passing second. That itch turned into something I knew no amount of clawing from my fingers would appease. Having spent so much time alone and reading every article ever written on love, relationships, and dating, or at least it felt like every article, I understood what that thing in my chest meant. And how much it took to satisfy.

It made me uneasy to stare at his lips knowing they were the cure.

It’s with that thought I got up.

“Thank you again, Jagger, for the food. It’s getting late, and I need to relieve Evaleen of her babysitting duties.”

Grabbing my small black leather clutch, I moved toward the front door.

“Please, do come again,” the hostess said as I briskly strolled past her station near the door.

Turning my head, I smiled and nodded at her, not wanting to be rude. As I reached my arm out to where I thought the door was, nothing but warm air remained.

I turned my head back to the front and found Jagger had sneaked past me and was now holding open the door like a gentleman. Ugh, why did he have to be so polite? It was annoyingly alluring.

Just about everything Jagger did had caught me off guard. Sometimes with irritation but more often than not, with pleasant surprise.

“Thank you,” I grumbled as I scurried up the street.

The restaurant was near my building so I could easily walk home which was a good thing. The bad thing was Jagger knew where I lived and walked with me.

“You don’t have to see me back home. I’m only two more blocks away.” I pointed up the street.

“It’s a nice evening. Besides, it’s not safe to walk alone.”

“I’m pretty sure nothing is going to happen to me in the one minute I have left in my walk. It’s summer, there’s plenty of light left. I think I’ll be okay.”

During our conversation, I picked up my pace but couldn’t outmaneuver him. I guess when he trained to work for the government he was taught power walking as well.

“Well, I’m here.” I pushed open the door to my building, but he grabbed my arm before I could escape.

“You trying to pull a Gregger?” Jagger asked.

That stopped me and I turned. “You joking about my date?”

“Yeah, how he jetted out.” He chuckled.

I tiled my head. “But I never told you his name . . .”