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I opened the car door. If we had more time, I would have preferred to leave things for today. But, thirteen days. I had to ask. “Come home with me this weekend?”
“Chance…”
“I know. But I don’t have the luxury of time anymore. You have a decision to make. And Dick gets you all the time. I want to take you home with me. Show you what our life can be like. No crazy road trips. No interruptions. Just me and you. Give me a fair shot if you’re making this choice.”
“I told you. I can’t be with you like that. Richard is a good man. It wouldn’t be fair to cheat on him. Our kiss the other night was bad enough.”
“Bad? I thought it was pretty fucking phenomenal.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”
“Fine. I won’t touch you. Sexually, I mean. I won’t.”
She looked at me like she didn’t believe my intentions were genuine.
“Trust me. You have my word. I will not lay a finger on you in a sexual way.” It looked like she was considering it. I probably should have just kept my mouth shut. But, I wouldn’t be me if I did. “And when you make a move on me, I’ll refute it.”
Her eyebrows jumped. “When?”
“That’s right. When.”
“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you, Cocky?”
She had no idea how much hearing her call me Cocky, did for me. “I am. Sounds like the only one that can’t control themselves is you.”
“I can absolutely control myself around you.”
I leaned in. “Then come with me. Give me a weekend before you decide. Please.”
She looked torn. “Let me think about it.”
That was better than a no. “Alright.”
“I really better go now.”
I exited the car and stood next to it as she started the engine. Right before pulling away, she rolled down the window. “Nice name, by the way.” Then, she disappeared.
It was the end of the second day since I’d spoken to Aubrey on her front lawn, and I still hadn’t heard from her. Eleven days. Time was ticking, and there wasn’t shit I could do about it.
Except get drunk.
It was a distinct possibility that I might have drank more sitting at that little bar across the street from the motel, than I had in the last five years of my life.
“Carla Babes. Hit me up again.”
“Don’t you think you’ve had enough, hot stuff?”
My brain was still working. “Nope. Not even close.” I held up the glass and clanked the ice around.
She took it, filled it with what I suspected from the color was pure club soda, and then proceeded to come around the other side of the bar and sit next to me. It was nearly closing time, and I had been sitting on that stool for close to six hours. We were the only two left in the bar.
Carla waited until I looked her straight in the eyes before she spoke. “She’s an idiot. You’re a great guy. I don’t even have to know Dick in order to be certain she’s making a big mistake. And it’s not just because you’re hot as fuck and have a body I’m pretty sure matches that perfect face. It’s because you’re committed.”
I scoffed. “I should be committed, alright.”
“I mean it, Chance. If a guy put in half the effort you do, I’d be impressed. You’re willing to lay it all out there day after day, even knowing that she could very well stomp on your heart.”
“Thanks, Carla Babes.”
“No problem. But it’s the truth. Plus…I’ve watched a dozen women try to pick you up in this place, and you never once even gave it any real thought. Considering you haven’t been laid in over two years, that’s a feat unto itself.”
“Eleven days. I suppose I might have to figure out how to get back in the saddle after all if things don’t pan out.”
“I tell you what. Closing time in eleven days. Things don’t work out. You meet me right here. I’d be honored to help you out with that. No talking. No strings. We’ll just walk across to your room, and I’ll let you ride all your frustrations away, cowboy.”
“You’d do that for me, Carla Babes?”
“For you? I’ve thought about doing that to you, since the day you walked in the door.” She gave me a quick kiss on the lips and sent me packing.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The next morning, I overslept and had to rush to Starbucks. It was almost nine when I got there, and the line was longer than usual. I hadn’t yet checked my phone, so I powered it on as I waited for my turn to order. The damn thing started to buzz in my hand.
I got excited when I saw a new text arrived.
Aubrey: OK. Friday 6pm. I’m yours for the weekend.
I let out a deep breath. It felt like I’d been holding it for days. Melanie called my name as I continued to stare down at my phone.
“Two coffees?”
I couldn’t stop smiling. “You bet.”
“And what will Aubrey be having for breakfast this morning?”
I leaned back and looked in the case. “I’ll take two of those chocolate chip muffins, an iced lemon pound cake, three of those salted caramel pecan squares, an oatmeal cookie and one of those fancy yogurt parfaits you have there.”
Melanie looked at me like I was nuts. At that point, I pretty much had lost my mind, so she wasn’t too far off. “You want those all in a box? They’re all for Aubrey?”
“Yep.” I paid and glanced at the time on my phone. She usually didn’t come by until half past nine. “Mel, hold my coffee. I’ll be right back. Okay?”
I hauled ass to the florist I’d been eyeing a few doors down and came back with a gigantic bouquet; it was bordering on ridiculous. But I didn’t care. Aubrey was going to be mine for a weekend. This was cause for celebration.
Melanie smiled at me so big, I could see her full mouth of teeth—top and bottom. “Can you give her these with breakfast today?”
“Of course.”
I parked my truck around the corner and stood in the doorway a few stores down from Starbucks. If I wasn’t on such a high, this new stalking technique might have felt a little creepy. Right at nine-thirty, Aubrey walked out of Starbucks with a box and the giant flowers. She was sporting the hugest smile.
I stood there for another ten minutes. Eventually, another text came.
Aubrey: Was I especially hungry this morning?
Chance: Sorry. I got carried away. We’re celebrating.
Aubrey: What are we celebrating?
Chance: You. Coming home with me this weekend.
My phone went quiet. A few minutes later, it buzzed again.
Aubrey: I’m nervous. I’m not sure it’s a good idea.
So am I, but I wasn’t about to admit that. The consequences of blowing this were too much to even consider.
Chance: Trust me. Please.
A few minutes later, a final text came in.
Aubrey: OK
I arrived at her place Friday at six, ready for our weekend. I knocked, and she came to the door looking almost exactly like a recurring fantasy I’d had of her over the last two years. She was wearing a tight white tank top, tiny white shorts and had on a pair of silver sandals. It was a particularly humid day, and her hair was down and wilder than usual. Trust me? That was the promise I’d made to her. Fuuuck.
