Page 11

Chapter 10

Date Night

Maddie

Two years later - Clearwater, FL

T wisting back and forth in front of the floor-length mirror, I attempt to talk myself out of this absurd idea.

Again.

I look like a frumpy old woman, which I am. But the dress makes it much worse.

Who was I trying to kid by agreeing to this? I should never have said yes. Fifty-three is too old to date. I missed my chance for happiness.

Running my fingertips over the thick, scratchy fabric around my waist, I squint closely at it. “I think I had curtains with this same print in the nineties.”

A knock at my bedroom door startles me, and I let out a tiny yelp. My hand flies to my chest.

“Ma, it’s just me.”

Of course it’s only Leo. No one else is here but my eldest son, come to see me off on my first date in eons.

“Sorry, Leo. You can come in.”

My nerves are shot. Perhaps I should have a glass of wine before the date. Or a bottle.

Yeah. A bottle sounds good. In fact, I’ll cancel this foolish date, have a bottle of wine, and throw some popcorn in the microwave. My typical dinner on the couch sounds like a much nicer way to spend the evening than pretending to be someone I’m not.

My son’s giant body fills up the entire doorway. His face sours when he gets his first glimpse of me. Although he tries to hide it behind a plastic smile, I saw it.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?”

“Nah.” His voice cracks. “Not at all. You look?—”

I hold up my index finger and flay him with my mom glare. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence, young man. I won’t tolerate being lied to in my own home.”

“Can I talk to you in the front yard then? Otherwise, I’d rather not answer.”

A belly laugh erupts from me, and my nervous tension flees.

Chuckling quietly, Leo barges into my closet and slides hangers from side to side, searching for something less matronly. Despite looking through every article of clothing in there ten times already, I join him in the futile quest.

He removes a basic black dress, holding it between us. “How about this?”

I wrinkle my nose and wobble my head from side to side. “That’s my important meeting dress. Plus, it’s sleeveless, and the blazer is at the dry cleaners. I spilled wiiin -coffee on it.”

He rolls his eyes, shoving the dress gently against my chest. “Wine coffee? Is that a new variety? Stick with white. Less likely to stain.”

“Busted.” I don’t take the dress, backing out of the closet under protest. “Fine. It was a merlot.”

I like wine, okay? Sometimes I like it a little too much.

After all I’ve suffered in my life, I’ve earned a few sloppy nights. Don’t judge me. At least I do it at home, where I’m safe and sound.

The next time I drink red, I won’t do it on the couch, especially when my blazer is tossed over the sofa cushions. I’ve learned my lesson. Red in the kitchen. White in the living room.

My son follows me out, still holding the dress. “You can wear it sleeveless. This is nice. Simple. Classic.”

To entice me, he holds the hanger under his chin, letting the knee-length dress drape down over his six and a half foot enormous frame. It barely reaches the bottom of his torso. It’d be a tank top if he wore it. He looks ridiculous.

“It looks great with your beard and tattoos.” I make the OK sign with my index finger and thumb curling into a circle. “You should wear it. I’ll stick with the curtain dress.”

He bats his lashes at me, injecting a playful shimmy into his shoulders. To sell his shtick, he gives me a twirl. The black chiffon fabric whooshes out in a fluttering wave.

It is a pretty dress. I’ve always felt attractive when I wear it.

But it’s for work. Every woman has that one outfit they feel powerful in. This is mine. It came with the blazer, but I’ve never worn it on its own. It’d be strange to wear it on a date and would give the wrong message. Slinky black dress doesn’t say divorced woman in her fifties.

However, in looking at my son prancing around with it, I suppose it’s better than the curtain-like frock I’m currently in.

“Maybe I’ll wear it if you won’t,” Leo teases, clicking his tongue. “What’s your date’s name? I’ll go in your place. Text him and say I’ll be the one with a rose behind my ear.”

“Give me that. You’re a silly mess.”

I snatch the dress from him, ignoring his not-so-subtle attempt to get my date’s name out of me. For the third time. I won’t be telling him. Not a chance.

As it is, I’ll probably have to make a few quick turns or run a red light to stop him from following me to the restaurant. If I know my son, he’s planning on watching me from one table away. His over-protectiveness knows no bounds.

Normally, it doesn’t bother me. However, I don’t need that kind of stress tonight.

“I’m not going,” I announce. “Get out so I can change into my sweatpants. I didn’t defrost anything for dinner. Order a pizza, and we can watch that Wick movie.”

“No, no, no. First off, you’re not watching something that violent.” He crosses his arms over his broad chest. “And second, I’ll get out, but only so you can put that black dress on. You’re going on the date. You need this. It’s time to start living again, Mom.”

The sternness of his tone leaves no room for arguing.

Besides, he’s echoing my own thoughts. The earlier ones. The ones that had me agreeing to this preposterous dinner.

Now, those thoughts about taking my life back before I’m dead are quiet as can be. They disappeared into the depths of my subconscious. Instead, I’m wondering how to get out of this. Slashing my own tires so I can’t drive there would be a financial mistake I can’t afford to make. And I don’t know how to disconnect my spark plugs or whatever. Even if I could pull that off without Leo seeing me rooting around under the hood, he would insist on driving me.

Then again, I can’t be expected to ride on his Harley in this little black dress.

My son’s expression softens as he shifts from stubbornness to concern. His gentleness shines through in the relaxing of his brow and the warmth of his piercing blue eyes. “Mom, you can do this. It’s just dinner. You’re gonna have a nice night. No pressure. Sammy would want you to go.”

My Sammy.

I miss her so much.

My daughter’s been gone a little more than two years. At times, it hurts just as much as the day I found out she’d taken her life.

An icy hand reaches into my chest, squeezing my heart.

It was all my fault.

Leo, my gentle giant, moves in close and brings me in for a warm hug. I bury my head in his chest and let him comfort me for a long time.

Pulling back, I crane my neck to meet his eyes. “I’ll go.”

He winks and retreats from my room. “Good. I’ll wait for you in the living room.”

“That sounds lovely,” I lie through my teeth, wishing for the hundredth time that a sinkhole would bring me to my demise.

I’d even take a tranq dart to the back of my neck or a dagger to the heart. Too bad no one poisoned my food. I wonder if there’s a signal I could flash to the waiter so I could be saved with an emergency phone call or something like that. Anything to save me from sitting through another minute with this arrogant prick.

I had no idea he was this self-absorbed. Then again, when have I ever been right about someone?

If I have to hear one more story about his precious company, I’ll reconsider my earlier idea of sneaking out.

Sadly, there wasn’t a bathroom window—yes, I looked. We’re right by the front of the restaurant, so leaving that way undetected is out. Perhaps I could escape through the kitchen.

Oh , even better yet. Perhaps the ground could swallow him up so I can enjoy the rest of my sea bass and wine. At least he picked a nice restaurant. He’s attractive too. But that’s where his good qualities end.

This was a huge mistake.

To make matters worse, after I brush him off, I’ll still have to see him all the time.

Colossal mistake.

Tuning him out, I scan the room, my eyes lingering on the illuminated fish tank. For a few peaceful moments, I get lost in the vibrant blue, purple, and yellow hues of the tropical fish. There’s something about fish tanks that I find so soothing. Unless it’s a small tank, since I end up feeling bad for those fish.

They’re trapped. Confined. It’s all too familiar.

Not these fish, though. These are the lucky ones. Huge tanks with beautiful coral, rocks, and fabricated caverns encircle each of the three main dining rooms. Each room has a different color scheme, and the fish were chosen to add to the decor. This room is deep purple and yellow. I love it.

However, it does remind me of the Minnesota Vikings, and that sours my gut. Travis was a huge football fan, and he hated the Vikings. One of the many things he hated.

Hates, I guess. It’s unlikely he’s changed his stance in the years since we divorced. If there’s one thing about him, it’s that he doesn’t know how to let things go.

Not sure why I’m thinking of him, though.

My date snaps his fingers at me, making me jerk my attention back to him.

“Did you hear me?” he asks.

He’s substantially less attractive when he’s snapping at me like I’m a dog.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I got lost in my thoughts. It was a long day.” Having finished my meal, I set down my fork and grab my wineglass. “What were you saying?”

He drops his gaze to my cleavage again. “What movie do you want to see?”

Oh shit . I forgot I was dumb enough to agree to not only dinner but a movie.

What’s larger than colossal? Enormous? Mammoth? That’s the level of mistake I’m up to now.

At least I’m only irritated and slightly disgusted on this date, unlike how I was the last time I sat at a table with a man. That was a few years ago in Maine. Despite wanting to run and hide in the restroom, I won’t do that tonight.

However, I do want to walk quickly away from him.

Sadly, I’m still not ready for dating. Exactly as I feared.

I throw back the rest of my wine and gather up my courage. “Would you mind terribly if we skipped the movie?”

“That’s no problem.” His grin grows when his eyes lock on my chest again. “Are you done with your meal?”

Really regretting the dress choice right about now. I should have worn the curtain.

“Yes.”

He waves at the server. “I’ll get the check.”

That was easier than I thought it would be. Guess he got the hint that I’m not feeling it. Excellent.

Ten minutes later, he walks me to my car. Chivalrous, although annoying, since I just want to be alone already.

“So I’ll follow you home then,” he says when I press the key fob to unlock my car door.

Uh-oh.

“That isn’t necessary. Thank you, but I don’t require an escort.”

His laugh sends chills down my spine. Not the good kind. “That’s cute, Madeline. I can’t wait to peel this dress off you.”

So it turns out it was not easier than I thought. He did not get the hint. And this is anything but excellent.

I take the last step toward my car, but he stops me from opening the door with his hand against the window. He moves in close.

Too close. And too fast.

Without warning, he backs me up against my car and cages me in. His eyes eat me up like I’m the dessert we declined in the restaurant.

No, no, no.

My windpipe tightens. I can’t act or even re act.

I don’t want this, but my mouth won’t open to say that. I just stand there. Paralyzed. A hundred brutal memories crippling me.

My instinct is to cower and stay docile. Don’t fight. It always makes it worse.

But he isn’t Travis or my father.

And I’m not a battered woman anymore.

Bending forward, he runs his nose along the curve of my neck, inhaling deeply. My stomach rolls. The sea bass threatens to make a reappearance as he kisses me under my ear and tugs my earlobe between his teeth. The beginning stirring of his erection twitches against my low belly.

Through the fog of panic, I somehow find my words. “Please stop.”

Although he pulls away some, he still braces his arms on each side of me, cutting off my escape.

His eyes grow dark. “We’re not kids, Maddie. We both know what this is.”

I turn my head at the last second, narrowly avoiding a forced kiss. “ No . I’m not interested in pursuing this any further. Please step back.”

The lines of his face harden. “We’ll see if you feel the same after this.” Without warning, he slams his lips to mine. His tongue plunges into my mouth uninvited, tasting strongly of the garlic fish he ate. It nauseates me.

I drop my purse and bring my arms between us. With all my might, I shove my palms against his chest. His lips finally pull off mine, and I bellow out my protest. “Stop it, Joe. I said no.”

He stumbles backward from the force of my shove. I try to get into my car before he can recover, but when I spin around, he’s already there. My front slams against the car as he presses against me from behind.

His warm, putrid breath slithers around my neck, nearly cutting off my airway. “This is a fun game. We should take it somewhere private, though.”

His taunting words are silenced, and his weight is yanked off me a split-second later.

By the time I turn around to see what’s happening, another man has Joe by the collar. Keeping his back to me, my white knight shoves my date several steps away. My heart thrashes in my chest like a jackhammer as I watch the scene unfold.

“Hey, who the hell are—” Joe sputters.

A fist flies right into his mouth, cutting off his words. His neck twists, and his face careens to the side from the force of the blow. The second punch, this time from the other direction, sends him to his knees.

I’ve never been so relieved to see violence.

“Get out of here,” my rescuer seethes, bending down to get in Joe’s bloody face and grabbing him under the chin. “And if you ever come near Maddie again, you’ll end up at the bottom of Tampa Bay. Don’t test me, fucker.”

Hearing my name in a familiar voice confirms my suspicion that he isn’t a random passerby who stepped in to help a stranger in need.

This move has my son’s name written all over it. But this man isn’t tall or broad enough. Not his best friend Sawyer either. Even from behind, I can tell he’s too rugged.

I blink frantically, trying to bring my vision into focus despite my chaotic breathing.

Joe rises on shaky legs, his palms splayed out in front of him. “Okay, man. I’m leaving. Fuck.”

With each of his retreating steps, my pulse slows. I stay rooted in place, my backside leaning on my car. If I tried to stand independently, I’d likely hit the ground like Joe did a minute ago.

That prick.

Now that the threat is diminishing, anger replaces my fear. How dare he? Knowing he has to see me again, he still chose to be a total dick bag.

The office is going to be extremely uncomfortable the next time he comes in for a vendor meeting. Time to dust off my résumé.

The man who saved me stands sentry five feet in front of me. His fists press onto his hips, drawing my attention to his corded forearms. A few tendrils of ink curl down toward his wrist on his right arm. Familiar ink.

By the time Joe gets in his car and peels out of the parking lot, my breathing has returned to normal.

I know exactly where I’ve seen the tattoo before. And this glorious backside.

My son must have sent him to watch over me.

Amusement mingles with annoyance in my chest, and I release an indulgent sigh. “Alan, were you following me?”

His head falls forward, shoulders sagging. He turns around, a sheepish expression marring his striking features.

This is the man I wanted to go to dinner with. Who I’ve always wanted to be with.

Not Jerky Joe.

But I can’t be with him the way he deserves, so I said yes to Joe’s less appealing offer.

And it was a gigantic, gargantuan, Leo-sized mistake.

Alan’s chest heaves with his furious breaths, and his jaw ticks. Rugged sex appeal swirls around him in a cloud of pheromones. Instinctively, my thighs press together.

“Guilty.” He shrugs and ambles closer, finding his typical swagger. “And you’re lucky I was.”

I press off the car, my legs stronger beneath me now that I know I’m safe. “I guess so.”

He slowly closes the space between us and caresses me with his mahogany eyes. “Are you okay, Maddie?”

Nodding, I tilt my chin up to feign bravery. “Yes. I’m fine.”

It’s not a complete lie. I’ll cry myself to sleep tonight. But for now, I’m fine.

The wrinkles between his brows deepen as he lifts his hand toward my face. I flinch on reflex. In my defense, he just beat a man bloody five feet in front of me.

“I’m just brushing your hair back,” he says, voice like velvet.

My muscles relax. “Oh, sorry. A little jumpy.”

I track his hand as it moves slowly toward my forehead. As promised, he runs his fingers through my hair, tucking it behind my ear. Before he drops his hand, he runs the backs of his knuckles along my cheek, trailing tenderly over the faded scar near my jaw.

My pulse spikes again. This time for a different reason.

Alan’s never once looked at my scar in disgust. Although I keep it hidden under makeup, he knows it’s there. He saw it when it was a fresh wound all those years ago.

His eyes look so deeply into mine I wonder if he’s reading my thoughts. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

An urge to climb him like a tree strikes, slamming into me out of nowhere. Keeping my lips sealed, I shake my head to answer him while diligently fighting off this arousal.

This man. The things I’d let him do to me if we were different people.

If he wasn’t my son’s boss. And if he didn’t mean so much to me.

If I were worthy of him. If I could trust myself. If I knew who I was.

Or if I could be with him without fear. Without wanting to run and hide.

But I still can’t do that.

After all this time, I fear someday will never be here.

“What’s his name, Maddie?”

“Whose name?”

Alan’s face contorts, and he looks at me like I’ve got three heads. He flings his thumb over his shoulder. “The fuckface with a newly broken nose.”

“Oh.” I blink out of the trance he’s got me under. “His name is Joe.”

“Joe what?”

I slant my head to the side. “Why do you want to know?”

“Don’t worry about it,” he hedges.

Petulance makes camp in my gut, and I purse my lips. “Then don’t worry about his last name.”

The forceful grinding of Alan’s teeth makes a slight clicking sound. “Are you trying to protect a man who was about to assault you?”

His words hit me in the chest, stealing my breath.

It’s what I’ve done all my life. Protect those who hurt me. It’s instinct. One I won’t succumb to any longer.

“Joe Stein,” I state with a newfound assuredness.

If Alan wants to do something to ensure Joe doesn’t go after me or another woman again, then so be it.

He nods at me, the corner of his mouth quirking. “Are you okay to drive home?”

The sparkle in his eyes draws me in, and I find myself stepping closer, removing nearly all the space between us.

He inhales deeply, his gaze traveling over my face and upper chest. It’s adorable how he wants to check me out, but won’t be so bold. All this time, and he’s still waiting for me to give him the signal.

But I’m too messed up.

Especially after what happened to Sammy. I can’t... I’m still not ready.

Or worthy.

“I can drive myself home. But one question before I go.” I raise my index finger. He nods, encouraging me to ask away. “How did you know where I was?”

Without showing a lick of remorse, he replies, “Leo told me.”

I called it.

“He told you I was going on a date?”

He answers with a crisp nod and a carefully guarded expression.

“And why would Leo do that?”

“Because I assigned him to a new case this evening.”

I roll my eyes. “You say that as if it’s an explanation. What does him getting called into work have to do with you showing up at Mystic Fish when I’m conveniently here?”

“Leo said he couldn’t take the shift because he was looking after you.”

My head lolls back as understanding dawns. “I see. So my self-appointed babysitter was called away, and he tagged you in as my backup babysitter.”

He shrugs. “Something like that.”

“What is this world coming to?” A smirk I’m trying to hide breaks through. “A grown woman can’t have dinner in a public place without Redleg’s finest watching over her?”

Wordlessly, he burns his gaze into me.

Goodness gracious. His smolder makes my dusty ovaries look twice at the shriveled-up fallopian tubes and then check to see if they have another egg in the tank. Thankfully, they don’t. Alan’s chiseled jawline, scruffy beard, and those piercing brown eyes could get a woman pregnant.

“As much as I’d love to tell you and my son off for infringing on my privacy—yet again—I’ll simply say thank you and call it a night.”

He swallows, the movement in his neck catching my notice. “Is this going to be a regular thing?”

“Is what going to be a regular thing?”

Irritation wafts from him to me. “You. Dating.”

My head rears back at his clipped tone, and guilt burns my response off my tongue. I want to explain to him why I finally caved to Joe’s incessant badgering. I want to tell Alan to move on. That I’m sorry for not being what he needs. And even more sorry I didn’t tell him myself, and he found out this way.

I can’t say anything, though. The words just don’t come.

Because I’m scared of what he’ll do if I tell him the truth. I don’t want to anger him or hurt him. Especially when he’s already upset over finding me with another man.

Truth is, I’m scared. On so many levels.

And I keep making stupid mistakes because I’m hiding. In plain sight, but hiding nonetheless.

Faced with Alan now, I see it clearly—going out with another man was another attempt to hide from him. From the way I feel about him. And the danger he poses. Not a physical one, but the fear of losing myself and how vulnerable I’d have to become to love him the way he deserves.

“Jesus. Fuck,” he mutters gruffly, misunderstanding my non-response.

After a slight shake of his head, he intensifies his gaze, reaffixing it on me.

I nearly melt into a puddle.

“Maddie, you don’t need to settle for some piece of shit who doesn’t know what the word no means. If you want to go out, I’ll take you out.”

After that declaration and the myriad of emotions I’m buried in, an unrestrained laugh breaks free in a flourish. I bend slightly at the waist, and my jaw unhinges as an unladylike guffaw escapes me.

Something resembling amusement dances behind his eyes as I cackle away in the parking lot like I’ve lost my marbles.

And I think I have.

With good reason, though. From the frightening situation with Joe to Alan’s sudden appearance and the guilt I’m festering over this stupid date ... I’ve finally snapped.

Once I’ve gathered my composure enough to speak, I choke out, “Was that your version of asking me on a date?” My hilarity renews with another round of chuckles.

Reluctantly, he joins in.

By the time we’ve stopped laughing, he’s somehow back in my space bubble. Or perhaps I’m in his.

Our breaths come heavy as we linger in the moment, neither of us making a move to pull away. I want to fling myself around him and offer my lips for a kiss. It’s getting harder to hold back the longer he looks at me.

Why am I fighting this?

Oh yeah.

I don’t deserve this man.

And I damn sure don’t deserve a happy ending.

After inhaling a steadying breath, I blink to clear the haze. “Well, I’m gonna head home now.”

Alan wears his disappointment well. Aside from the tic of his jaw, I can barely tell he’s sad to see me go.

Yet I can tell. And it hurts.

Tomorrow, I’ll text him and tell him to move on. Or send an email for old times’ sake. This hope for someday has gone on long enough. How I’ve treated him is so far beyond unfair that I’ll never be able to make it right.

But I can’t drag this out anymore.

I wish I were enough for him. Sadly, I’ll never be able to give him what he needs.

And I’ll wear that guilt like a scratchy shawl for as long as I live.

Because that’s what I deserve.