Page 21

21

GEORGIA

M ama and I are playing our second game of Canasta at her kitchen table while Auggie is down for his nap. Jasper’s quietly snoring at my feet while Banjo, Mama’s Jack Russell-Chihuahua mix, sprawls on her lap. As she’s dealing, my mind wanders back to the date I have set up with Cade. He’s having me over for supper tonight and he’s doing the cooking. Even though he presented it as a ‘co-parenting meeting’ I know his intentions aren’t so pure. He’s not foolin’ no one.

“Yoo hoo, your draw,” Mama nudges me under the table with her foot. “You were a thousand miles from here. What’s got ya worried?”

“What makes you say I’m worried?”

“The furrows in your forehead for starters. I know Ava is babysitting for you tonight and I know it isn’t for work. Spill the beans.”

I anxiously chew on my lip because I know how well this will go over. “I…um… I’m going over to Cade’s tonight to discuss this shared parenting thing. You know… logistics… stuff like that. He’s cooking supper at his place.”

If steam could come out of a person’s ears it would surely be happening now. I prepare myself for a dressing down and I’m not disappointed. She lays her cards on the table face down then folds her hands staring at me like some disapproving schoolmarm.

I set my own cards down and hold up a hand. “Mama don’t start with me. I’m a grown-ass woman. We have things we need to figure out.”

She arches her brows. “Alone? At his place? With him cookin’ a romantic dinner for two? I wasn’t born yesterday, ya know. That sounds mighty cozy. Please tell me you aren’t considering opening yourself up to that man again. After what he did to you… my good God, Georgia, what are you thinking?”

“I’m trying. This is all new to me. What do you expect?”

“I expect you to resist temptation. There is no denyin’ that man is like a walking Pinterest board, but I taught you better than that. Sweetie, unless you’re prepared to get burnt again, I’d leave playing with fire to the professionals.”

“I have no intentions of getting back together romantically.”

“You may not, but he’d be a fool not to try and get you back.”

“You honestly think so?” I say a tad too enthusiastically.

Mama slaps her palm on the table sending her cards scattering. “I knew it! Who the hell cares what he thinks? He doesn’t deserve another chance with you, do ya hear me?”

“I never said he did, now did I?” I sniff.

She scoffs. “I reckon you gave yourself away. If you’re wanting this man to try and win you back,” she shakes her head, “well, I don’t know what else to say to get through. It would be a terrible mistake. He’ll only break your heart again. He’s got a romantic notion in his head about being a father and you and him living happily ever after. Not very likely. He’ll be on the road for weeks at a time during baseball season, with women throwing themselves at him and fans hanging all over him. What will you be doing? Waitin’ at home for a few crumbs when he’s in town. Then who is to say when he’ll be traded again? Do you want to uproot and follow him? Think about that.” She huffs out a breath.

“I didn’t come over expecting to get an earful. There will be no uprootin’ because nothing is going to happen. Plus, he has a five-year contract with the Cutters. Please give me some credit.”

Mama’s expression is resigned and tender. “Baby girl, I give you all the credit. I was young once. I know all about temptation. Your daddy was a lot like Cade. Handsome, charming, going places. I was head over heels in love with him. Don’t think for a minute that you’re lacking in any way. It’s just that attraction is a powerful thing. You once thought he was the one and he is the father of your child. I just don’t want you to put yourself in a difficult situation.”

“You have to trust me on this,” I say ignoring the niggling doubt tugging at my conscience.

“You are a fine mother to little August. You work hard, study hard and are making it work. Don’t let him derail ya. That’s all I’m sayin’.”

“I won’t. It’s only supper.”

Mama reaches across to hold my hand. “Stay strong. He’s going to go all out to impress you. Just remember where you were two years ago.”

“I will, Mama.”

“Let’s finish this game before my grandson wakes up.”

“And Mama? I hope you know how much I love you. I know you’re looking out for me and Auggie. Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” And I mean it, I really do. Can I help it if my pulse goes wild every time I think of seeing Cade? That doesn’t mean I’m going to give in to temptation.

I pull up to the parking garage security booth and the attendant is all smiles as he slides his window open.

“Good evening,” he says.

“I’m Georgia Anderson. I’m here as a guest of Cade Jennings.” I hold up my driver’s license for him to see.

“You’re on the list. There are visitor parking spots right by the lobby entrance.”

“Thank you,” I say.

“Not a problem. Have a good evening.”

The parking gate lifts; I find a designated guest spot and park. I angle my rearview mirror to check my hair and make-up for the hundredth time. I’ll admit I took a little too much time on my appearance for a business meeting. But I do need my confidence, right?

The lobby has a curved reception desk with the young concierge engrossed in the new issue of People Magazine. She looks up with a warm smile when I enter.

“Good evening,” she says, her bubbly personality apparent.

“Hi. I’m visiting unit 601. Cade Jennings.”

She gets a dreamy look and says, “Lucky you.” She pretends to fan herself then giggles. “Oops. I probably shouldn’t talk to the guests like that.”

I laugh. “Your secret is safe with me. I guess I’m allowed on the elevator?” I say.

She smiles impishly. “Of course. That’s why we have security on the outside, duh.”

I glance at her magazine. “Did Travis propose yet?”

She scrunches up her face, “No but he’d better get a move on. Perfect couple goals.”

“I agree,” I say. “Thanks. Have a great night.”

“You as well.” Before I even turn, she’s back to the article about the unlikely love story between a pop star and a football hero.

Ava would drool over the ten-foot art installations on either side of the elevators. I’m not the least bit interested on account of my nerves being like water on oil in a hot frying pan. The marble floors and polished wood along with elegant light fixtures are… well… extra. Who lives like this? The sound of flowing water coming from a granite fountain fills the small lobby with a soothing soundtrack as I wait for the elevator.

I notice a sign announcing access to the fitness room and private pool to the left. Ugg! Makes me flash to my worn furniture and humble abode. I suddenly feel embarrassed and wonder what in the world Cade thought when he sat in my kitchen drinking sweet tea. Gratefully, a flash of my hard-working mama, who taught me better, makes me feel ashamed of myself for thinking like that.

The doors swish open and I enter the fanciest elevator I’ve ever been in. I’m definitely not in the hollers anymore. I push the button for the sixth floor and it smoothly ascends. Catching my reflection in the metal panel shores me up. I look a heck of a lot more confident than I’m feeling. Fake it till you make it. You got this girl . I square my shoulders and ease the death grip on my clutch as the doors open at Cade’s floor. As instructed, I step out into the hallway and make a right. The thick plush carpeting muffles my steps as I stroll down the hall.

My knuckles are raised to knock when the door opens. There stands six foot two inches of sexiness. He has on a backward Cutters hat, a navy tee, white apron with the Cutters logo, faded blue jeans, bare feet and a huge smile splitting his face. He’s all teeth and sparkling baby blues. Have I said that I love the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles big like that? Holy crap! I’m in trouble. Just like Mama said, bad idea Georgia… real bad.

“Welcome. You look mighty fetching tonight,” he says stepping back and waving me inside. I slip off my flip-flops and walk into a breathtaking space that has an open floor plan. The polished wood floors gleam in the natural light provided by the glass walls. I take it all in at once, curious about where this man I… um… used to love, calls home. It’s an end unit with incredible views of the river and cityscape on three sides and a café table already set for two on the small balcony. Aww .

It’s subtly sophisticated, both polished and inviting. There’s an understated elegance that I like a lot. It’s obvious someone thoughtfully chose the art pieces and furniture. The large living room space has two modern sofas facing each other with cream throw pillows for accents and a low coffee table with a vase full of beautiful fresh flowers sitting in the center. On the only section of the wall that’s not windows, he has a huge flat-screen TV mounted. The couches sit on a teal patterned rug that matches the rug under the dining room table. Another sitting area in the right corner has four highbacked chairs arranged around a center table with the entire backdrop floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing that spectacular view.

The kitchen is a chef’s dream. Stainless steel appliances, beautiful cherry cabinets along with granite countertops, of course they are , and a curved countertop island with high leather stools providing a great roost for me to watch the chef in action.

“It’s stunning Cade,” I say.

“I have a year lease on this place with the option to extend it or buy. Mom hired an interior designer to help and took care of everything else like towels, sheets, pots and pans, dishes… stuff like that. All I had to do was sign the lease, write a check and show up.”

“Lucky you.”

“Mom loves to shop and to decorate. She was in heaven.”

“You don’t say,” I murmur. “I’m curious, when did you learn to cook?”

He shrugs, smiling mischievously. “I’m full of surprises. I thought we’d eat outside. There’s a nice breeze tonight.”

“Sounds lovely.”

“Feel free to check out the place. Bathroom is down the hall and on the right.”

“I’m good,” I say and perch on the stool facing the kitchen, tucking my feet under the top rung. There is a platter with bite-sized appetizers in front of me.

“Help yourself to the apps. Compliments of Trader Joe’s.”

I grab a bite-sized quiche. “Yummy.”

“Look at these babies,” he says, pulling out a huge live lobster from a Styrofoam container. He holds it close to my face. “Had them flown in fresh from Maine.”

I cover my mouth staring into a pair of sad, beady, brown eyes. “Poor baby. His claws are clamped shut!”

“It’s to protect them from each other and me from getting nipped.”

I scoff. “That’s rich. Protect him so he can get eaten! He looks scared.”

His eyes twinkle at me. “I guess you’re not the one that’s going to drop them in the water then?”

“No way in hell,” I reply.

“Georgia their brains are the size of a pea.”

“Bigger than yours if you think I’m going to eat that poor little thing after meetin’ him. If I have to look at him a second longer, I don’t think I’ll be able to eat at all.” He laughs out loud then puts him back in the container.

“Guess it’s a good thing I bought the fresh pasta and the high-dollar sauce.”

I bite back a smile. “You went all out. But what were you thinking to show me that poor little critter?”

“It’s all coming back to me now,” he says. “You always did have a soft heart. FYI, I promise no lobsters were harmed in the preparation of your appetizers.”

“Did Trader Joe tell you that himself?”

“Ha! What kind of music are you into these days?” he asks.

“Pop, country, whatever,” I say. “Whatever you want to listen to is fine.”

“Alexa, play some country music,” he commands. Alexa responds and Ella Langley’s song “You Look Like You Love Me” starts streaming through a home sound system.

“Some fresh lemon for your buddy,” he says grabbing three lemons. He juggles them like it’s nothing, his biceps flexing making it hard not to ogle. This man should come with a warning label. He nods at the basket of fruit. “Do me a solid and toss me another one.”

I get up and reach for another lemon. “How do you want me to do this?”

“Quickly,” he jokes, tossing them higher and higher as he sings along to Ella’s playful tune.

I awkwardly throw it at him which he catches easily.

“Show off,” I drawl. “Is this what all you baseball players do in your spare time?”

“Only when there is a pretty woman we want to impress.”

“Well, I’m impressed.”

“Phew. That was easy,” he says, catching the lemons one by one before placing them back in the wicker basket. “How hungry are you?”

“Before or after I met Larry the Lobster?”

He snorts with laughter. “Larry will never know what hit him. How much pasta can you eat?”

“I’m a pretty good eater when it comes to pasta.”

“I seem to recall that. I’ll use the whole package. Both pots are boiling so I’m going to drop in the pasta first. I’ll give you fair warning before your friend gets dunked.”

“I can’t even think about it. How about I go out on the terrace while you do the murdering?”

“There’s a bottle of wine in a bucket of ice out there. The opener is in the second drawer if you can grab it on your way. Oh, and the salads are in the fridge and there’s a bottle of Ranch and some Italian dressing in there if you could grab those too.”

“Sure,” I say glad to be doing something to distract me. So, this is what pure temptation looks like. Oh, he’s good all right, I’ll give him that. He knows good and well what he’s doing. He’s adorable in his apron, looking like he’s cooking from scratch when all he has to do is open a jar. Flying in Maine lobster just for me, being all silly, juggling lemons to put me at ease. Danger danger! Red flags all over the place. I suddenly feel panicked and almost drop the salads I’m pulling out. Girl, you are not in a romance novel and don’t you forget it! You’re not going to swoon just because he’s opening a jar of sauce and a package of pasta!

I scurry to the terrace and open that dang wine faster than you can shake a stick and pour myself a full glass. I take a big sip of the chilled Chardonnay. Yummy. Nice and bright with hints of citrus and fruit. I let the fresh air and wine do its thing and begin to relax as Kelsea Ballerini sings, “Cowboys Cry Too.”