Aiken

Luck had been in my corner when I decided to pump some gas into my truck. I’d been out to the dairy farm, where I’d hit pay dirt with my web design. They were ass-over-tits for my work, and I got a tiny niggle in my spine that they may have some other answers for me. Mentally celebrating, I’d decided to stop and get food and then march next door and tell Claire she was coming over for dinner.

What that damn woman needed was someone to take charge. Lead her back to living again.

That was when I saw her.

Bingo.

There she was, running around solo, acting all proud and stoic, when she was a little bird, injured and lonely.

No doubt, with a little care, she’d be an eagle ready to rule the world.

Of course, I had to go and scare the fuck out of her, but then we shared laughs over my shoes.

My fucking boots—saving the day as always.

Tried and true.

Every man needs a good pair of boots.

With my coffee in the center console, I headed home, Claire’s brake lights in front of me.

I’d never wanted someone in my bed as much as I wanted this woman.

Not only my bed. Everywhere.

I’d get her. Save her. Breathe air back into her lungs.

Don’t misconstrue my bravado for self-confidence.

I didn’t hold a single clue as to what to do with a woman like Claire.

I could take it slow, but I didn’t want to.

I could allow her to think she was in control, but that wasn’t in me.

I could let her mother me—hell, I sure as fuck wasn’t allowing that.

I wanted her body, mind, and freaking soul.

A few simple interactions, and I knew she’d be mine.

My thoughts were interrupted by my phone ringing. “Yo, Pops.”

“Hey, Son. How ya doing?”

“All good, I swear, all good. Got a nice place, a smart investment, and lined up a few decent jobs…”

“I don’t like that you’re out there looking for her. She’s gone wherever she’s gone, and it’s not with us.” He cleared his throat.

“I know, but we should know. She should know what she gave up. Ya know?”

“I just don’t want you to stay gone forever. Already lost so much. I’m good with you not working the farm, but this…come back, Aiken. I like having you near.”

“I will, Pops. Soon. I can always rent the house I bought.”

“You having some fun? Meeting some people? College is nearby…I don’t know how old those kids are.”

I smiled to myself. I’d met someone, and her age was definitely a factor, but not because she was younger.

“I met some people. I’m good. Going home to grill some beef, settle in with a cigar. Take care, Pops.”

Disconnecting the call, I watched Claire pull onto our street. I’d have to leave eventually—I couldn’t leave my pops forever. Could I?

Somehow, my heart was already entrenched with my next-door neighbor. It pained me to think about hurting her.

I pushed those thoughts away. I had to cook her dinner and woo her to my side of the fence.

The grill burned hot, and the steaks sizzled when I tossed them on. I placed a few ears of corn in husks around the edge.

“So, you cook too?” Claire entered my yard, Smitty in tow, a half-smile on her face.

“Yeah, survival skills. My dad would have to go check the gates before dusk, and I was usually the one who would get shit ready. I even remembered the butter,” I said, referencing our earlier neighborly exchange.

“In your shitkickers?” she shot back, inserting her own brand of sass.

She’d changed. Wearing jean shorts and a white V-neck T-shirt, she could easily be mistaken for a grad student. Her body was trim and toned from running and probably not always eating well or taking care of herself or not. Could go either way.

“Of course,” I ribbed her back. I’d changed too. Still in my cargos, but I’d put on a fresh shirt and flip-flops. As I worked the grill, I called Smitty over for a pet.

“I left some wine on the table.”

“Found it,” she called back, pouring herself a glass.

“I’d planned on drinking my coffee and eating something sweet tonight.” She stood next to me, confessing her sins, eyeing me up, looking for a reaction.

“You know that’s pretty much how I’ve lived the last three years,” she went on. “Bitter, broken, bored, drowning my misery in caffeine and sugar. Really, it’s been longer than three years. Before Abby died, I was bitter over my failed marriage, being a single mom. Then after, I was pretty much bitter over everything. All of it sucked the life out of me, and somehow, I took to always being alone. It was easier.”

“Isn’t this better than being alone?” I asked, giving her space, still playing around with the grill.

“Well, I was a solo flier for so long. Alone is pretty much how I’ve spent most Friday nights over the last few years. I don’t even know half the neighbors’ names anymore. Yet, here I am, at your house for dinner, drinking, smiling…something I haven’t done in a long time…and yes, it is better. So, thank you. Again.”

Dropping the cover on the grill, I gathered her by the waist and placed a kiss on the top of her head. “I’m happy you’re here. It’s not pity or any Mrs. Robinson fantasy. This feeling, I know you feel it too.” My lips grazed her forehead this time. “Feel that? The crackling? Between us? It’s hot…and I don’t mean the grill.” She laughed into my chest, and it made my heart pound harder.

“Whatever this is, it’s mutual. I’m a loner and keep to myself. But not when it comes to you.”

“With you, I seem to always want to be closer. Yeah, at first, I thought you were sexy as hell, but now, I want to know all of you.” A few errant hairs blew from the gust of my hushed words into the crown of her head, and I kissed them down.

“I don’t know what to say. This is unexpected, but I can’t seem to stop it. I think about you. A lot. And you make me smile more than anyone else has in a long while.”

“So don’t say anything, except for how you take your steak. Leave the rest to me.”

Another soft smile, her wineglass still dangling in her hand.

“Medium.”

“I can do medium. Now, go sit back and take a load off in one of those loungers.”

Of course, Smitty followed her and sat at her feet, guarding her like I wanted to.

With two cobs of corn shucked and two steaks plated, I walked toward the small patio. “Don’t get up.”

“Let me get you a drink…at least.”

“I got one.” I flicked my chin toward the small cooler next to the door.

I handed her the plate and set mine on the lounger next to her.

“Smitty,” she semigrowled.

“Don’t you dare let him eat my food.”

“Never.”

I grabbed a cold beer and joined her. “Go ahead, eat.”

“I haven’t had steak in a long time. I don’t really make it…ever.”

After a pull on my beer, I told her, “The dairy farmer said the grass-fed beef at the grocer is local, so I grabbed it. Back home, I’d have grabbed steaks from a neighboring farm.”

“And the corn?”

“Wish I’d grown that myself. It’s all right, but not like we grow.”

We ate in silence for a few beats, and then she asked, “So, websites? Only for farmers?”

“I’ve done a lot of farms. I know the SEO and all that junk. I’ve also done a few online fitness businesses and a doctor’s office and a preschool. Back home, I had a steady flow of farms. I think I did every single one in a few-hundred-mile radius. But I wanted to expand. I’ve also done a few fixer-upper sites. Ones that owners botched and broke, and I came to the rescue for a pretty penny.”

“And the farm? Your family farm?”

She set her plate on the table between our chairs and sipped her wine, her eyes staying trained on me.

“My dad’s still running it. We hired some additional help. When I was home, I did some. He wants it to stay in the family, but I got a good thing going. I draw a minimal salary from there. He insists. I think mostly so I’ll come back out of guilt.”

“Seems that you like your freedom, but I’m sure you don’t want someone else running something with your name on it.”

“Are you analyzing me?” I set my plate next to hers and leaned in closer.

“No.” She laughed. “Lucky guess? Or you know what I do?”

“The university has a website, Professor Richards. All I had to do was type your name, and like magic, there you were.”

“Stalk much?”

“Nah, I spend all day on my laptop. Workplace casualty. As a professor of developmental psychology, former head of developmental preschool, do you have any of those?”

She shook her head.

“By the way, I saw an old picture, thought you look even better now…and in person,” I said with wink.

A bittersweet smile crossed her face, mouth up, mouth down, settling somewhere in the middle.

“I didn’t mean anything…you’re a gorgeous woman. You have to know that.”

She paid my explanation no mind. “I never did a lot of counseling counseling after graduation. During school, I worked with families affected by attention deficit disorder, helping them find order and peace. Mostly, I liked being a researcher, looking for patterns and solutions to help families. Mary and I made great partners way back when. She wanted to interact with more subjects, and I wanted to make sense of the data. For a long while, we kept a healthy balance doing this. When we came back here, we both moved into administrative positions. That was about seven years ago. She took over the whole department, and I…well, it didn’t quite work out for me,” she said from a place in her mind far away.

It pained me as she knocked back her remaining wine, struggling to maintain her composure.

“You wanna talk about it?” I couldn’t not ask. She was begging to talk.

“I was awarded head of the preschool. It was a prestigious job. The school was affiliated with the School of Psychology, so it was on the cutting edge. Lots of research coming in and going out. It was a laboratory school. I mentored the graduate students working there and collaborated with schools all over the country. I only taught graduate seminars…except for my summer intro class. And then everything happened, and I took a leave of absence. I decided I couldn’t go back to the school, not to work with all those innocent kids. I went back to teach undergrads for the most part. Something about them was settling. It was both painful and comforting at the same time.”

Her fingers restless, I gathered them inside my own.

“It’s okay to not be perfect, to have fears, Claire. I have them all the time.”

“You’re supposed to have fears. Me, not so much. I am…I was…a mother. You have your whole life in front of you.”

“You’re not so much older than me, lady. And we all have fears. Mother, father, or not.”

She was trying to protest. I could see the arguments gathering behind her eyes, but I didn’t allow her to start. Instead, I kissed her. I leaned forward, and my mouth met hers. She tasted like red wine and fear. I dared myself to suck all the fear out of her.

I crept forward, landing in front of her on my knees, ours mouth nipping, sucking, touching.

My tongue wanted entrance—

I bit her bottom lip, and she opened, and my tongue entered, twisting with her tongue in a way I wanted all of me to do.

I’m not sure how long we stayed like that, but Claire ended up breaking the moment.

“Aiken, I need to stop.”

Reluctantly, I pulled away.

“My heart is beating so fast, I’m afraid it’s going to come out of my chest. We need to slow down.”

I nodded and slid back into my chair, keeping hold of her hand.

“Tell me, what do you see for yourself in the future? Ten years from now? Still living here? Teaching?” I asked while standing and cracking open another beer and refreshing her wine.

Her brow scrunched. “You mean still stuck in the memories? Look…” She leaned forward as if she were about to get up and run. “I know I’m pathetic, but this is me. I run, hang with my dog, visit Abby even though she doesn’t know I’m there, and I teach. I guess that’s what I see for myself ten years from now. Fifteen too. Forever, if I’m being honest.”

Moving to the edge of her lounger, I lifted her feet into my lap. “I didn’t mean to upset you. That’s not why I asked. I look at you and see this unbelievable woman. Strong and resilient. Beautiful. Most women wouldn’t even be running and teaching and visiting their daughter like you do. But I want you to want even more for yourself.”

“I guess there’s never been closure. For David, there was. Abby’s dead to him…the reason or the why or the who doesn’t matter to him. Not so much for me. I want to know who and why. To me, this is an open case.”

My fingers tangled with her hair. “I want you to have that too, but it may not happen. We can’t control everything. I’d like to find my mom, or find out what happened to her, but I guess there needs to be a shelf life on how long I’ll look.”

“I know.” It was a whisper.

“There’s nothing wrong with having a life, even if you don’t have answers. Abby would want that.”

She nodded. “Abby was a good girl. Happy, bubbly, always singsonging around. She didn’t deserve so much shit. David leaving, my working a lot. At least she died doing something she’d been dying to do. That concert…it’s all they talked about for months. Their seats, what they’d wear, and whether we were really going to let them go by themselves. She was my life, even though I wanted a few hours to myself that night.”

“None of it was your fault.”

“I know that. In the beginning, I’d wished that I’d taken them to that damn concert and died alongside them.”

I moved up the chair and pulled her into my arms, her hair spread over my shirt—black and white, the way she wanted to look at life.

“I can imagine. When I was little, I’d wish my mom took me with her. I was always afraid to tell my dad, because then he would have lost me too. I’d open my window at night and look at the stars and wish for her to come get me. Like this.” I pointed to the darkened sky.

“Beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you, Claire.”

“Kiss me?” she asked, her words husky and her chest pounding near mine.

My mouth found hers, and she responded with an urgency I secretly savored. A breath escaped each of us, and our tongues discovered one another. My hand wound its way up her side, my thumb grazing the side of her breast—she was all woman, and I wanted every inch to be mine.

“I want to make you happy,” I mumbled. “I’ve never felt that way about anyone, and, honestly, I didn’t think I ever would. From the moment I saw you, I wanted to know you better. There was a spark in your eyes that made me feel like it was just for me.”

She looked up at me, her lips plump, eyes wet.

“This is like a teeny-bop movie or something, except I’m an adult.”

My fingers snaked around and pinched her ass. “And I’m an adult too.”

“Okay, okay. Are you sure this isn’t some mommy thing?”

“We can add that to the list…this isn’t a mommy thing, or a Mrs. Robinson deal, or a pity party. While we’re at it, it’s not love at first sight. Maybe lust, but now it’s just Claire and Aiken, our own rules, and I like you a whole lot.”

“If you call me Claire Bear, I’m leaving.”

She placed a small peck on my lips, her mouth brushing mine, causing a roaring fire in my belly.

Really—

“And now I’m going to walk you home, because if not, I’m going to take you inside and have all of you. It’s not time yet…and we have plenty of time ahead for that.”

I stood and yanked her up by her hand, holding her tight. Smitty looked at her and then me and then wagged his tail.

We walked toward her house, hand in hand, Smitty stopping to relieve himself.

“Set your alarm, Richards. I’ll be by at seven to run.”

With a quick pat on her ass, I walked back to my house to clean up and jerk the hell off.