Indulgence (120 page)

“Ah, okay. He had heart surgery last year and . . .”

“No! I had no idea. Is he all right?”

“He’s well enough. You know how it is. When you get to be a
certain age . . .” I listen as Leona drones on about getting older and having
heart problems and eating healthy. I was always afraid of all of that for Phil,
but he just didn’t care. I had always hoped he’d take good care of himself for
me. He didn’t care about me, so he didn’t bother – until he had a chance to
snag a young girl, and then he started in with going to the gym and flexing his
muscles and all of that crap.

She finishes abruptly and then blurts out, “I suppose you
want to know how Phil is.”

I shrug. “Hadn’t occurred to me to ask, frankly.”

“Now, Kimberly, after all the years you two were . . .”

“After all the years we two were together, he told me he’d
never loved me. I really don’t care what he’s up to.”

“Okay, then, want some juicy gossip?”

Not really,
I think, but I say, “Sure. Go for it.”

“Well, he’s got a new wife. He moved to California. She works
out there.”

That news hits me in the gut. “Is that so?”

“Yes. And she’s a doozie. They’ve been together since, well
. . . sometime last year.” She stops for a minute like she doesn’t quite know
what to say. When she notices that I don’t look at all surprised, she adds,
“She’s got a criminal record, according to Davis.” That’s their other brother.

“Criminal record?” Now she’s got my full attention.

“Yeah. He did some looking around and checking up. I don’t
know what it was.”

“That’s interesting. What did she do?”

“No one really knows. Phil won’t talk about it, so we really
don’t know what that was about. But we also know she spent some time in a
mental ward.”

“He’s with a woman who’s got a diagnosed mental defect.
Nice. So he’s managed to find himself a young woman who’s a nut job and a
criminal. Very nice.”

“She’s not that young.” At first, I think I’ve heard wrong,
but then she says, “She’s in her mid-forties. We’re not talking a kid here.”

“Really? I thought this was all about young women. What
happened to the young girl?”

Leona snorts. “Seriously? She didn’t want him. When she
found out he wasn’t loaded, she didn’t want any more to do with him. And how he
found this nut job, I have no idea. She’s really something. She’s come to a
couple of family functions and we all watch the little kids and our purses. And
no one wants to make her mad. Who knows what she’d do?”

“Yeah. Wow. That’s just, um, wow.” I think about that for a
few seconds. What the hell is wrong with Phil? It may have been a long eight
years since he left, but right now I think I’m glad he’s gone. If this is what
he wanted instead of me, well, good for him. Sounds like he got himself quite
the life.

“So what about you, Kim? Seeing anyone?”

How do I answer that? I’m seeing him, but I’m not seeing
him. I’m talking to him. So does that constitute “seeing?” What exactly
are
we doing? I’m confused. The only thing we’ve actually done is kiss. That
doesn’t constitute a relationship. No wonder I’m confused. I just answer with,
“No.”

“Well, you should. You’re pretty and smart and nice. There’s
someone out there for you. You should look around,” Leona declares, sipping her
cup of tea. I just gaze out the nearest window. There’s no point in trying to
explain what’s going on with me and Jaz. Even I don’t know what to think.

We finish lunch and chat about her kids and grandkids, the
brothers and sisters, Phil’s mother, who’s still in a nursing home, and we part
ways after promising to stay in touch. I know we won’t. That’s just one of
those things you do and never follow up on. As I walk away, I think about what
she told me.

Phil’s married a woman who’s certifiably crazy. Good for
him. At least I’m not the only crazy one.

Not even back to my car yet, I stop and blink at my phone
screen as a text comes in.

Guess what? Got an earlier flight! At the airport
waiting. Will let you know when I land.

Can’t help it; I smile to myself. Then I send one back.

Be careful. Waiting to hear from you.

His response is simple: J

We’ve graduated to emoticons! How nice. Busying myself with
the seatbelt and the radio, I realize I never even asked where he was going on
this trip. I’ll have to remember to do that. I start my little Ford Focus, pull
out onto the street, and tootle home, stopping at the store for something to
fix for dinner. But I’m barely in the door when my phone rings and, even though
I don’t want to, I smile when I see the number. “Hello!”

“Hello to you! You actually sound glad to hear from me.” The
smirk on his face is visible in my mind. “What’s all that noise?”

“Bags. I just walked in and I’ve got stuff from the store.”

“Perishables?”

“A few. Why?”

“Because I pulled in right behind you in your driveway. And
I want to take you to dinner, if you want to go.”

A breath catches in my throat. “If I, what? You want to take
me to dinner? Oh, sir, I don’t really look like going to dinner. I mean, I
didn’t know you’d be in this early and . . .”

“It doesn’t have to be anywhere fancy. But I’m hungry. Oh,
and open the door, please.”

I sling open the door and there he stands. For some
ridiculous reason, I was hoping he’d be holding a big bouquet of flowers. Maybe
that’s a goofy, old-fashioned fantasy, but there it is. Of course, no flowers,
just him in a pair of charcoal gray slacks, a light blue dress shirt, and a
gray and navy-striped tie. And a little less scruff than I’m used to on him,
but I won’t complain. “Hi,” is all I can squeeze out.

“Hi.” He waits and grins, then adds, “Can I come in?”

“Oh! Yes, of course, sir. I’m sorry.” I stand aside until he
closes the door behind him, and he drops his overnight bag on the floor. “How
do you know where I live?”

“You forget, we have a friend in common.” There’s a twinkle
in his eye. “Are you the least bit glad to see me?”

How should I answer that? I decide that I’ll just be honest
and see what happens. “Yes. I’m very glad to see you.”

Before I can react, he steps closer to me, then right in
front of me, wraps his arms around my waist, and growls, “This glad?” That
second is sheared away as his lips find mine, and I drop into the kiss like a
waterfall dropping from a cliff. Every ounce of restraint I have is gone, and I
feel the heat of his skin through his shirt as my hands make their way up his
back and his neck, finding their home in his thick, dark hair, my fingers
twisting and locking into it. His lips are soft and just a little salty, and I
almost giggle thinking about the dry roasted peanuts they most certainly
offered him on the flight. When he finally breaks the lip lock, he grins down
at me. “Well, I guess you weren’t lying. It feels like maybe you did miss me a
little.”

“Maybe a little,” I grin and wink.

“So, do you mind if I change into something more comfortable
before we go out?”

I roll my eyes. “Now you’re a cliché.”

That makes him laugh right out loud. “No, I’m someone who squirms
in part of a monkey suit. I want my jeans and tee. And my Asics. I’m thinking
maybe a sports bar, if that’s okay with you.”

Now I laugh. “Okay? That sounds unbelievably good. Let me
get freshened up a bit while you change. Come on.”

I lead the way down the narrow hallway into my modest little
bedroom and head on into the bathroom. But before I can shut the door, he says,
“Um, before you get started in there, would it be okay if I . . . I mean, I
just got off a plane.”

I know I turn red. “Oh, god, I never thought . . . Of
course. Help yourself.” I sweep my hand toward the bathroom and he heads that
direction. It’s the first time
I’ve
seen
him
red-faced, and it
makes me want to laugh, but I manage to control myself. With the bathroom door
closed almost all the way, I hear that familiar sound that I haven’t heard in
years, followed by flushing. When he comes out, he smiles. “By the way, I
forgot to ask: Where exactly did you go?”

Plopping down on the end of the bed, he sprawls backward,
resting on his elbows, and says, “Boring old Topeka. I hate that place, but
we’ve got a very big production facility there and several customers in that
region. I’m still trying to match the parts they produce to the customers who
need them. It’s going to take a while. They’re some pretty obscure things, but
I know they’re necessary in the industry.” He points to the bathroom. “I’m
hungry.”

“Oh. Yes, sir.”

I’m almost through the doorway when he calls out, “Wait!” I
turn to see him jump up, run out the door, and then return with a small package
in his hands. “I got this for you. When I saw it, it reminded me of you. Here.”

Tearing the white paper with metallic silver polka dots from
the box, I find a seal on the lid that says, “Bixby’s Gifts – a unique treasure
in Topeka.”
Well, at least it didn’t come from the airport
, I can’t help
but think, and then yell at my brain,
Shut up, bitch!
But when I get the
box open, I gasp.

It’s a bracelet, a leather bracelet with a snap closure. And
all around it are tiny roses, three dimensional roses. Tiny leather roses,
their individual petals wrapped tightly together. They’re dyed a dark red, and
twisted green leather stems trail between them. I’ve never seen anything like
it, so exquisite and meticulously handcrafted. I want to put it on right that
second because it’s so amazing. When I look up at him, I hope he can see the
delight in my face. My eyes go moist, and I’m embarrassed, but it’s been a long
time since anyone gave me anything quite so beautiful. In nothing more than a
whisper, he asks, “Do you like it?”

“Oh, sir. It’s so gorgeous. I’ve never seen anything like
it. Will you help me put it on?”

“You said you wanted to freshen up. Wait until you’re done
and I’ll help you with it.” For a brief moment, he looks like a middle school
kid presenting his first dance date with a corsage. “Sure you like it?”

“I don’t like it. I love it. It’s just, well, it’s amazing.
I can only hope to do work that stunning.”

Without warning, he pushes a strand of hair off my cheek and
gifts a tiny, warm kiss to my forehead. “You do. Your work is outstanding. I
didn’t realize what I was seeing at first but when I realized it was leather, I
had to get it for you. That’s the coolest little shop too. They have really
unusual things. I’m not sure how my eyes fell on this. Guess it was just meant
to be.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much. It’s lovely. And thanks for
thinking of me.”

“Kimmie,” he says, lifting my gaze from the bracelet to his
face, “I haven’t thought about much else since I left.” Oh, god. He’s been
thinking about me. I feel a little dizzy. “Have you thought about me?”

“Yes, sir,” I manage to gasp out and, without thinking, I
mutter, “once or twice.” Then I start to laugh.

“Once or twice?” He’s laughing too.

“Yeah. Once or twice. Or twenty times. Something like that.
I wasn’t counting.” Without thinking, I drop my forehead to his chest and
listen to the laughter rolling through him, feel his breath on the nape of my
neck.

His arms encircle my waist again and pull me close, and I
flatten my cheek against his chest. A hand comes up and strokes my hair, and I
hear him whisper, “Oh, god, little one, we’ve got so far to go.”

I want to cry, but I’ve got to get pulled together for
dinner. Even so, there’s something here in that simple statement that gives me
a measure of hope that I haven’t had in a long, long time. Listening to his
heartbeat, I admit to myself that I’m really sure about something.

I want Jaz Givens to be my Sir. It’s time for being alone to
be over.

*****

As soon as the server asks, I shake my head. “No dessert.”

I hear Jaz let out a little chuckle before he says, “I’ll
have the Boston cream pie, and the lady will have the red velvet cake.” I glare
over at him. “And we’ll both have another glass of wine.”

“Coming right up, sir.” The server beats a hasty retreat
before I have a chance to argue.

“You’re looking much healthier. I see my admonishment to eat
has helped.”

I scowl. “More like I eat when I’m hungry.”

“You didn’t before.”

“That’s because I wasn’t hungry.”

It’s obvious that he’s trying hard not to grin. “So what
changed?”

I mock back with, “‘So what changed?’”

He levels a faux serious look at me. “Drink your wine.”

I play-snarl back, “Yes, sir.” It really is good wine, so
that’s no chore anyway.

“Ah – dessert! That looks delicious,” he beams at the
waiter.

“Thank you, sir. Our desserts are very popular.”

“I see why.” He picks up the clean fork that came with the
decadent mess on the plate and smiles. “Eat up, little one.” One bite and I
have to admit: it’s delicious. I’m happily scarfing it down when he says, “Hey,
slow down! You’re gonna choke!”

I haven’t realized I’m gobbling it the way I am. “Oh, sorry.
Not very ladylike of me,” I mumble, and shoot a few crumbs out onto the table.
Now he’s laughing right out loud at me, and I start to laugh too. When I get it
all swallowed down, I open my mouth and stick out my tongue. “Red, huh?”

“Yup!” He’s just cackling now. When he smiles, there are
these crinkles at the corners of his eyes that make his whole face light up.
I’m not sure how that works, but it happens. Hearing him laugh like that causes
these funny little sensations to run around in my chest, and it makes me happy
to know he’s having a good time.

With every minute that passes, I’m more sure that this man
is someone with whom I want to grow something. As we laugh and chat, I feel
this connection to him that I haven’t felt in a long time with anyone. We’re
almost finished when I ask him, “So, you know about me because of Michael. Have
you been married?”