Seasons (19 page)

“What’s a dime?”

He starts laughing at me.

“What? He said I was a dime. What does that mean?”

“It means he thinks you’re a ten.”

“Oh,” I say shyly.

“You coming out tonight?” Mitch asks saving me from my embarrassment.

“Nah, I’m beat. I’m going to head to bed.”

“All right, all right.” He teases.

“Alone!”

“Are you sure? I’m a pretty good snuggler?”

“Maybe some other time.” I giggle.

“So you’re saying there’s a chance?”

Mitch stands up and playfully taps my knee before offering me a hand up. “Come on, dime piece, let’s clean up, and get you to bed.”

“Mitch!” I attempt to scold through my laughter as I take his hand.

We all get through our work and Mitch walks Jenny and me out to our cars. He leans in to hug me goodbye, and when he pulls back, he has a serious look on his face. “Go out with me sometime,” he blurts out.

“We go out all the time.”

“No, not like that. You know like I pick you up, we go out just the two of us, bowling, or mini golf, or something, and then I drive you home.”

“Like a date?”

“Like a date.” He smiles shyly.

I look down at my feet and kick some gravel in the lot before I look up at him and smile. “Yeah, all right.”

His shy smile turns into the cocky smile I’m used to seeing grace his face when we play flirt at work. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I kiss his cheek and say goodnight after agreeing we would go out Thursday since we’re both off work that night.

I spent the weekend with Mom and Hank. Monday morning my phone pings sounding a text message.

Trevor: 19 days!!!

Me: 19 days?

I play dumb, teasing him knowing he’s talking about his upcoming nuptials.

Trevor: Not funny, do you have a date yet?

Me: Hadn’t planned on it. It’s out of town and I’ll be busy doing maid of honor things.

Trevor: No, you won’t. Find a date. Bring Aden, he’s always fun.

Me: I’ll think about it.

Me: Btw, 19 days!!!!! Ahhhhhh! I’m so excited to see your stupid face! Who knew I would miss that ugly mug so much?

Trevor: It’s a fabulous mug and you know it. Call Aden.

Me: Yeah, yeah. Class is starting I’ll talk to you later.

I spend the afternoon and night playing catch up and studying since I was busy all weekend. The next morning, I walk out of the glass room where kickboxing classes are held wiping my forehead with a towel when I see Aden saying goodbye to a client. He notices me and comes over.

“Hey, you!” he says smiling all the way to his eyes. We have kept in touch. Aden is a great guy. He just wasn’t the one for me right now. I still love him, but it has morphed into loving him as a friend. We chat on the phone sometimes, just to catch up.

“Hey, it’s been a minute. Were your ears burning? I was just talking about you yesterday.”

“Oh, yeah? Good things I hope?”

“Trevor was harassing me to bring a date to his wedding in New York. It’s in a couple weeks. Two weeks from Saturday, to be exact. I thought if you are free maybe you would save me from Trevor and come with me?”

“That would be fun. Yeah, I can come with. I’m free that weekend.”

“Awesome. I have to run so I can make it to class, but I’ll call you next week to iron out the details.”

“Sounds good.” We say goodbye, and I make a mad dash to get ready for classes.

*   *   *

Thursday night, I’m getting ready and fidgeting nervously. It’s Mitch. Why am I so nervous? We’ve gone out together a bunch of times. This time it’s different though. It’s a date, just him and me. Usually, I have Jen or someone else as a buffer. We have spent the past month working together and flirting. The sexual tension between us is so thick you could cut it with a knife. Mitch has a flirty personality, so part of me thought it was more just how he is rather than him actually having feelings for me.

I’m putting on my lip-gloss for the third time when I hear my buzzer go off. I’m so anxious that the sound of it startles me and I almost fall off the makeup stool at my vanity. I buzz Mitch in and pace nervously while I wait for a knock at the door. When he knocks, I run my hands through my hair, smooth out my clothes, and then open the door.

“Hi,” I say nervously when I see him leaning against the doorframe. He’s in perfectly fit jeans and a graphic tee that shows off his tattoo sleeved arms.

His face lights up. “Hi, you look even more gorgeous in a non-Dickey’s t-shirt.” He grins.

“You clean up pretty well yourself.” I giggle nervously.

“Ready to go?”

“Yep.” I slip on some black ballerina flats to go with my casual attire. I decided to go with skinny jeans and a long sleeve, black V-neck sweater since Mitch had mentioned bowling or mini golf. I grab my purse and a light jacket and we head out to the car. We pull up to an indoor miniature golf course.

“I didn’t even know they had indoor miniature golf,” I say reading the sign.

“The outdoor ones close after labor day.”

We walk in and I scope it out while Mitch pays and grabs our clubs and golf balls. The inside looks as if it’s outside. There are huge trees all over that look real. The course weaves through the trees and there are even ponds and a little waterfall.

Mitch walks over to me handing me a putter. “I got you a purple one.” He smiles.

“How do you know I didn’t want a pink ball?”

“Nah, you’re not like other girls, definitely more of a purple girl. Come on, I’ll show you how to golf.”

“I know how to golf.”

“Shhhh, if you pretend like you don’t know I get to wrap my arms around you to show you how,” he says as we get to the first hole.

I put my ball down on the center tee and look up at him. “Now what?” I play along.

“Oh, well, here. Let me show you,” he says as he comes up behind me. As promised, he leans down and wraps his arms over mine grabbing hold of my hands above the putter. He feels so good draped around me. I relax into his touch and let him sway our arms back and then swing until we hit the golf ball. A second after we make contact with the ball, he releases me, and I sigh at the loss of his touch. We look down the green and watch as my purple ball makes a hole in one.

“Holy crap, ACE!” I shriek and jump up and down throwing my arms around his neck.

“Always, baby!”

I pull back with a smirk. “Check your ego,” I scoff. “Come on. Let’s see if you can do it again.”

We finish miniature golf, flirting the entire time with the same natural banter we usually share at work. When we finish, we go for a walk through one of the many beautiful parks in Maine. It’s a cool night and the lampposts illuminate the trees with their glorious, colorful autumn leaves. It’s a shame these beautiful leaves don’t last and will eventually all fall from their branches, I think idly to myself as we walk.

“Are you cold?” Mitch asks breaking through my thoughts.

“I’m all right. I was just thinking how beautiful the trees look in the lights.” I smile over at him before I begin my inquisition. “So, Ace, you are good at miniature golf. Do you have any other hidden talents?”

“I’m a phenomenal bowler, also.”

“Ah, I see. So, bowling and miniature golf were the date suggestions because you wanted to show off your skills?”

He lets out a big chuckle. “Busted. But, in my defense, there really isn’t anything that I’m not good at.”

“Oh, well, please enlighten me. What other skills do you oh so humbly possess?” I ask waggling an eyebrow.

“I’m a beast on the football field, or at least I was until I injured a knee,” he says tapping his right knee. “I hurt it during a drill when I was in the Army about seven years back. I have various skill sets. You’ll see.” He states waggling an eyebrow back.

“I can’t believe I don’t know this already, but what do you do for a day job?”

“Jail.”

“I’m sorry, what?” I look at him confused.

“I’m a corrections officer.”

“Oh, thank God,” I laugh. “So, you’re a cop?”

“Corrections officer.”

“Right. Do you carry a gun?” I ask curiously.

Flexing, he says, “Two of them.”

“You and that ego. You aren’t half as pretty and stacked as you think you are. Someone should really work on knocking that ego of yours down a few pegs,” I mock.

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll work on it.”

Something he said earlier registers in my head. “Okay, so I’m going to be rude for a minute.”

“Ha!” He laughs. “Always, but go on.”

“Hush! I’m curious…you were in the military seven years ago? That makes you how old?”

“Old enough to know better,” he says. “How old are you?”

“I just turned twenty-one before I started at Dickey’s, but I asked you first.” I stop walking and look at him expectantly.

“Twenty-nine,” he says turning toward me and intertwining the fingers of his right hand with the ones on my left. He looks into my eyes before he asks, “Is that a problem?”

Without missing a beat, I reply, “Nope, it’s kind of a big gap, but it doesn’t bother me.”

“Good,” he says brushing his lips on the back of my hand, and then pulling gently to urge me to keep walking with him.

“If you’re a corrections officer, that seems like it’d be a pretty good gig. Why are you moonlighting as a bouncer?”

He stops for another moment and then keeps walking. There is a pause before he answers as if he’s thinking about how to answer my question. “A good chunk of my paycheck goes to my ex for child support.”

Whoa. That was a blow. “You were married?” I ask in surprise. I don’t know why I’m surprised. He’s older, but I wasn’t expecting divorced.

“Yep. Got married right out of high school before I went into the Army. Young and dumb and didn’t know any better sort of thing. She got pregnant a year later. Jamie, my son, is nine.”

“How long have you been divorced?” I ask, interested.

“Officially? About six years. It was sort of a ‘Dear John’ thing. She didn’t like that I was gone all the time with the military so she found someone to keep her company.”

I gasp involuntarily. What a bitch. His story is pulling at my heartstrings. “Do you get to see your son often?”

“Not as often as I would like. His mom remarried and likes to make up excuses as to why I can’t see him on my weekends.”

“That’s awful,” I say sympathetically.

“What about you, any serious relationships?” he asks changing the focus to me.

My turn to sigh. “Define serious?” I aim for avoidance.

He laughs. “Longer than a few weeks?”

“High school sweetheart and a sort of extended summer fling.” I grin hoping he’s satisfied with this answer.

He stops walking and is looking at something in front of us. Glad to get out of talking about my past relationships any further, I follow his gaze to a gorgeous water fountain that is all lit up. “Wow,” I whisper. “It’s so pretty.”

Mitch places his hand along the left side of my face gently coaxing me to look at him. When I peer up, he leans down and brushes his lips against mine ever so gently before pulling back. He has the most perfect square jaw and beautiful full lips. I swear, his green eyes actually twinkle in the light like an actual emerald would. I smile and release the breath. We gaze at the fountain for a few moments before turning around and heading back to the car. He drops me off at my front door and gives me another gentle kiss goodnight. I swoon as I close the door after saying goodbye.

I’m a mess of thoughts. He’s older than I am, yes, but I don’t mind the age gap. My heart broke for him when he told me his story. How could someone do that to a great guy like Mitch? Her loss, my gain, I suppose. He was a perfect gentleman tonight. It was everything a great first date should be. We got to know each other, had a great time, and he kissed me goodnight. I fall asleep with a huge smile on my face that night.

*   *   *

The next two weeks cruise by! At work, Mitch and I flirt as usual, and we find one more night to steal together before I leave for New York. We end up just snuggling on my couch, eating popcorn, and watching movies. He texts me flirty messages throughout the week, and we chat on the phone at least once a day. I told him about the wedding for my best friend in New York but left out the date part.

Aden and I agree he will drive up and meet me the day of the wedding since I have to be there the day prior for the rehearsal. The wedding is not in a church, for obvious reasons. Instead, Trevor and Adam are having a small ceremony in a beautiful garden. The grooms have decided to have the reception in an art gallery.

I take an early flight the morning of the rehearsal. The flight only takes a little over two hours. When I get to baggage claim, I squeal and run to Trevor’s open arms.