DAVID
Friday morning and we're up before the sun, the whole family gathered in my kitchen while Mom makes breakfast.
Dad hovers behind her, leaning over her shoulder and watching the stove like a half-blind hawk. "You sure you don't have the heat too low for those eggs?"
Mom wields her spatula with the precision of a samurai with his sword. "You can't rush perfection, Dean," she says, glancing up at her husband. "You know that as well as anyone."
Colton and I sit at the table, him slumped over a cup of coffee while I sit back in my chair and sip from my steaming mug. "You look awfully awake this morning," my brother grumbles my way.
"And you look like hell warmed over."
Colton makes the same face he's made at me for decades—one that means he's about to try and pull a fast one. "I don't have the company of a lovely woman to look forward to like some of us," he says, enunciating each and every one of his words and glancing at our parents.
Dad wraps an arm around Mom's waist and pulls her close. "That's sweet of you to say about your own mother." He plants a kiss on the top of her head as Colton shakes his head.
"No offense to Mom, but, eww." He sits up and takes a drink, humming his approval at the rich brew as he swallows. "I'm talking about David." He indicates me with a jerk of his chin. "He's been seeing someone."
Mom spins, pulling out of Dad's embrace, her eyes wide and her spatula lifted. "What?" Surprise gives way to happiness. "Who? How have we not heard about this before now?"
"Because," I say, giving Colton a look. "It's not that big of a deal."
Mom and Dad exchange a look. "Whatever you say," my mother singsongs sweetly, before turning back to the eggs.
The truth is, I don't know what the fuck happened, but something sure as shit did. Saturday night, Michelle and I had what was undeniably the best porch sex in the history of porch sex, solidifying Shiraz as my favorite wine of all time. Sunday, we spent most of the day texting back and forth while she was at work and I swear, if ever there was a woman who understands witty text banter, it's Michelle. And then, right at the end of the day, she ghosts on me. Nothing. Not one word. Not even a goodnight, and I stayed up an hour past my bedtime just so I wouldn't miss it.
And the rest of the week? We haven't hit total radio silence, but I sure as hell haven't gotten the flood of sweet words that I had been getting from her. It's like someone flipped a light switch. She was on and now she's off, and something about it has me worried. Today is Friday, and that means she has to work in the morning, but I'm asking her to meet me tonight and I won't let her turn me down. It's just not an option. If something happened, I need to know what it is so I can fix it.
* * *
After spending the morning working with Colton on repairs to the chicken coop and the fencing that keeps the little rascals out of the garden, I head out to the grocery to stock up for the weekend. I spend the entire drive there and the whole first half of my shopping trip working out the details of Operation Hot Stuff. Something spooked her and whatever it is that's happening between us is too good to let her run off. With my mind wrapped around what I'm going to say to un-spook her, I round the corner into the dairy aisle and right in front of me, pushing one of those tiny little carts while staring intently at what looks to be a calculator, is Michelle.
"You know," I say as I come up beside her. "The trick to stalking is to make sure the other person doesn't see you."
She looks up, startled, and a wide grin stretches across her face. "Hey there, handsome."
"That's it? Hey there, handsome? After all we've been through? That's all you have to say to me?"
Michelle looks surprised. "All we've been through?" She can't hide the humor in her voice or the guilt in her eyes. "Do tell, Mr. Carmichael. Just what, exactly, have we been through?"
"You know what I'm talking about." I lean in to whisper conspiratorially. "The loving. The leaving. It might as well be daytime TV around here."
Michelle nods her understanding, sarcasm dancing through every move. "Wow. Sounds dramatic."
"It is dramatic. Just imagine you're me. You meet this beautiful woman. Hit it off. The chemistry is off the charts. The intellectual stimulation is…stimulating." I raise an eyebrow. "And then? Boom. She's gone. And I'm left to wonder just what she found so lacking in me that let her simply walk away without an explanation."
Michelle's face falls. "It's not that at all," she says, taking my little joke way too seriously.
"Great." I grin. "Then go out with me tonight."
She hesitates, looking everywhere but my face.
"And you can't even use Claire as an excuse because she is nowhere to be found and nothing about the plain Greek Yogurt, sprouted bread, and—" I peer into her cart and make a funny face.,"—jelly beans tells me that she's going to be taking part in this nutritious dinner."
"Claire is spending the night with my mom tonight." She looks up at me shyly.
"Perfect. Then you can come to my house for dinner. I promise I'll prepare you something way better than a yogurt and jelly bean sandwich."
Before she has time to make even one excuse, I step into her space and kiss her. Yes, right there in the grocery store, and no, I don't give two shits who sees. Michelle melts into me, sighing with her whole body.
"I've missed that," she says when I'm done.
"Then that's a yes." I spin her around so we're walking in the same direction. "We'll have drinks. What do you think about Jack and Gingers?"
"Jack and who?"
"Jack and Ginger. It's a drink. Jack Daniels and ginger ale."
"I've never even heard of it before."
"Then that settles it. We'll grab some ginger ale on the way out." I head off towards the soda aisle before she can put up any resistance.