Page 49 of Second Chances

While the band played “Honky Tonk Women”, Henry tapped along, waving to friends, neighbors, and random customers on the street. Before leaving his house, he texted Cait, but she had “one more thing to take care of”. Since he knew the prospective house she was looking at, he couldn’t imagine what was taking her so long. Beautifully built, with wooden fixtures on the interior, it was just the right size for his niece. He’d been in it a few times and had used the house’s crown moulding as inspiration for his own house when he had remodeled several years ago. He pushed all thoughts of his niece aside, however, when Charlotte came into view. His mind blank, he exhaled. “Charlotte.” With her shining dark hair pulled up, the moonlight danced on her bare shoulders, and Henry’s fingers itched to test her softness. His eyes tracked down to the curves he had stroked their last time together. Streetlights twinkled across her neck and upper chest, and he longed to press his lips in the space between her shoulder blades, where he imagined her pulse fluttered rapidly. Whoever had made her dress needed a monument built to them, because it showcased this woman as a work of art…a supple goddess, too good to be real.

Charlotte’s temperature soared as Henry approached, more handsome than a man had a right to be, wearing another shirt with snaps down the front. What was with this man and his snaps? Didn’t he get how unbelievably sexy he was? He’d been sent to test her, she was sure, evidenced by the naughty, devilish dreams that had her pressing a pillow between her thighs in the middle of the night after waking up fevered. Forcing herself into coherence, she asked, “Henry, how are you?” Wow, Charlotte, you haven’t spoken to him in two months, she scolded, but this is the best you come up with? With her icy drink pressed to the other side of her neck, she quivered when he spoke.

“I’ve been good, I guess.” He added, “Better now that you’re here.” Her dark eyes widened at his words. Aiming for lightness as well as sincerity, he worried now that his words sounded trite. Trying not to concentrate on the damp trail left by the bottle she held to her throat, he focused instead on keeping his hands in the pockets of his jeans to prevent himself from reaching for her.

Charlotte laughed uneasily, taking a healthy gulp of her wine spritzer. “I’ve been…afraid that you wouldn’t want to see me again.” Her nerves were raw with the need for his understanding. “I’m so sorry about what I did, the night of our date. I ruined everything.”

“What?” Henry’s voice was rough when he said, “Charlotte, no, I’m the one…I should’ve reached out, I should’ve said something sooner, but it’s me. I’m sorry for what happened at your house.” When they had tasted each other, had each other’s skin under their fingertips. When their breaths had been one. All he’d done in the months since was think of that night, hating the idea that she could regret it while he relished it.

His sparkling blue eyes made her pulse skip. “No, Henry, I’m the one who needs to apologize. Everything was perfect…you were perfect. It’s just…” How much could she admit to him before she turned him off? Because that was the last thing she wanted.

“I crossed a line with you…pushed you before you were ready.” His voice low, he stared down into her upturned face. Without either realizing, they had drawn together, and Henry braced his arm over her head, leaning on the front door of the flower shop. The small alcove lent a heightened sense of intimacy, and his body began reacting to it.

“No, I—you did nothing wrong. It was me. Not like, ‘it’s not you, it’s me’,” she babbled. Having Henry this close to her was playing tricks on her mind, making her dizzy with need for him. What would he do if she reached for his chest? Slipped a finger between the snaps?

Henry took a deep breath. “I didn’t know what to do, after the date, or when to do it. I didn’t know if I should call you, but then too much time passed.” His hands moved to push his ball cap back before remembering that he hadn’t worn one. “I was afraid you might not want to hear from me.” His height over her provided an unfair advantage, but he wouldn’t allow himself to look into the deep valley of her dress. He’d made that mistake already. “And then…”

“I heard about Burnside Van Holland’s open-heart surgery.” Aiming for casual and not catty, she inquired, “How’s Diadema?” What he did with his free time was his choice, but if she was going to be vulnerable with Henry, she needed to know where things stood with him and DD. For once, she wanted to be first on his list of priorities. His aftershave, earthy and erotic, surrounded her, and she wanted him madly, but she wouldn’t spend tonight yearning for a man distracted by another woman.

“She’s managing. Working things out.” He needed her to understand. “I called her this afternoon and explained that I couldn’t help her anymore. I’m putting up boundaries from now on.” Tentatively, his hand reached for hers, admitting, “I wanted to reach out to you so many times, but I didn’t know where to start, and I regret that.”

Leaning closer, Charlotte nodded her beautiful head. “I’m sorry, too. I’m the one who essentially kicked you out, which isn’t what I wanted or intended.” She peered up at him from under the fringe of her eyelashes. “I should have told you that.” All this time wasted. She shook her head. “No one tells you how hard it is to date in your fifties.”

Henry chuckled, “They don’t, do they?” With her hand still held by his, his thumb brushed her palm. “I should have taken a chance, especially since you were the one brave enough to initiate our first date.” Bringing her hand to his mouth, he gently kissed it. “You are so beautiful, Charlotte.” Breathless as his eyes held hers, the band played “Feels So Right”, and he was desperate to have her in his arms again. “Will you do me the honor of dancing with me?”

“I’d love to.” Henry brought her into the circle of his arms, and Charlotte did her best to stifle a shudder, but it wasn’t easy. Not with his heartbeat visible in his neck. Or the tension in the shoulder her hand smoothed. Or the body heat emanating from his chest.

Searching for an innocent topic, anything to distract from her soft breasts pushing into his ribs, he asked, “How’s your daughter doing?” Dancing with her may have been a bad idea: too intimate, and he was on the verge of making an idiot of himself. He should’ve led them to a picnic table on the side and waited for Cait to arrive, whom he’d forgotten about completely. “I saw her with you at opening night of Bye, Bye, Birdie.”

“She’s great. She applied to the traveling nurse program.”

“Really? How do you feel about that? When Josh went to New York City for college, I never imagined he’d stay there for sixteen years. But college became med school, then his surgical internship. I missed him every day.” Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of his son and Effie and flashed a smile at them. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I made my question all about me.”

“It’s okay. I like hearing you talk about Josh,” Charlotte smiled up at him, captivated by his love for his son. “Since I’ve lived here, I’ve become used to being separated from her. At first I thought would be difficult being apart from her, and from Amy, but luckily I’ve made some pretty wonderful friends,” she told him. “Anyway, I’ve been encouraging her to do it for years. I suppose she gets her wanderlust from me.”

“Really? Did you do a lot of traveling growing up? Or when you were married?” Henry whirled them into the center of the dancers.

“Some, with my parents. I was fortunate: they had the means and the motivation to expose me to different places, here in the States and in Europe. Money was tight with Brady and me, though. And then, when it wasn’t, the timing never worked. I would have loved the opportunity to spread my wings and see the world when I was Isobel’s age.”

“I heard you did some traveling recently,” he commented. At her surprised look, he explained, “My sister told me, after I’d asked if she’d seen you.” His hand rubbed circles on the small of her back. “I missed you.” He ached to kiss her and lowered his head to hers. Then the band broke into “Good-Hearted Woman” and, jostled by other dancers, Henry twirled her into a two-step rather than let her out of his arms.

Two songs later, breathless and thirsty, Charlotte put a hand to her chest. “Where did you learn to dance? You’re so good.” He had dipped her, spun her, and swayed with her, all while keeping in rhythm with the music. He seemed oblivious to the admiring glances from women in the crowd, but she noticed the looks of envy and knew they would gladly step in and replace her; for the moment, Henry was hers.

“My parents taught us all to dance. Watching them at so many dances like this.” He wiped beads of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand as discreetly as possible. “Would you like to get a drink?” At the nod of her lovely head, they walked over to the bar. “They only have beer and those wine cooler things you were drinking before. And pop, of course.”

Charlotte laughed. “I think I’ll take a beer. That seems more appropriate for a street dance, anyway. Whatever you’re having is good with me.” As Henry grabbed two bottles of beer so icy they steamed in the warm air, Charlotte’s stomach growled, and she cast an embarrassed glance at Henry, who chuckled in response.

“I was just on the verge of suggesting food. I didn’t eat much for dinner, but full disclosure: I can always eat.” In his rush to meet his niece, he had eaten a hastily made sandwich and was starving.

“A man with an appetite. I can appreciate that,” Charlotte said. “I have one, too.”

Yes, he had an appetite, but not for food. His appetite was purely for Charlotte. He tucked a stray curl of glossy brown hair behind her ear, trailing a finger down her cheek. An announcement from the band broke the spell. “Would you like to grab a burger over there?” Henry pointed to the booth down the block.

“I’d love that. I had a sandwich earlier, but I’ll need to keep my energy up for tonight.” What had she just said? Lightheaded from Henry, she corrected herself with a giggle, “I mean dancing…with the way you dance, I’ll need my energy.”

With a smile, Henry offered her his arm, and she linked hers through, carrying her beer in her other hand as he said, “I’m glad I came tonight. I almost didn’t.”

“Me neither. But I’m glad we’re both here. What changed your mind?”