Page 10 of Midlife Crisis

“I would have liked to have them. But have none I’ve been told of.” Although I catch the hint of humor, there’s something underlying his comment. None that he knows of. What a strange way to phrase things.

“Is there the possibility you have wayward children out there?” I try to jest in return, but I’m curious. He simply shakes his head, absentmindedly stroking a thumb over my ring finger.

“You’re Ivy’s uncle?” I’d only heard of Tommy Carrigan as her family.

“Just in name. We aren’t family like that.” His silence after his answer lingers in the air. He isn’t going to offer more, and I’m not in the mindset to pry.

“Where are we going?” I’m hoping to deflect my overactive imagination, which conjures up a scene where he pulls this SUV over and takes me in the back seat.

“Because Cupcakes. It’s a bakery around here.” I don’t question how he knows these things. We’ve crossed through some questionable parts at the outer edge of the city. If I didn’t know the reasoning behind Ivy’s desire to stay in the area, I’d have pushed her to relocate as well.

Suddenly, we pull up in front of a business with feminine scroll on a frilly, pink awning. Gauzy curtains dress the window, framing shelves of cupcakes which look like designer confectionary instead of edible treats. They’re beautiful with piles of icing in silver, white, pink, and light chocolate. My mouth waters.

Hank surprises me again when he opens my door and assists me out of the SUV. He holds my fingers for a moment longer than necessary before leading me to the bakery entrance and holding the door open for me. It’s been a long time since a man’s been a gentleman toward me.

“Hank?” The woman behind the counter seems both surprised and pleased to see him as we enter. I recall the woman in the hallway the night we met, and I wonder if he goes anywhere where some woman doesn’t know him. This can mean only one thing—player.

“Lily.” His direct address to the blonde behind the counter startles me. My guess is she’s in her forties. She’s pretty with caramel colored hair, cut to her chin and bright blue eyes.

“Is Brut with you?” The fold to her shoulders alerts me this woman hates that she asked at the same time she wants an answer.

“Nope.” Again, Hank’s directness shocks me. More surprising is when his hand returns to my lower back, caresses lightly before he urges me forward. Lily’s eyes shift to me.

“How can I help you?” She’s gone into business mode, ignoring the fact Brut isn’t here, whoever he is. I delve into the explanation of the high school fundraiser for the music therapy school, clarifying my connection, and my error with the cake.

“Why didn’t you come to me?” This question goes to Hank, who shrugs, looking away like an errant child. I don’t understand what’s happening, but there is some kind of history here. “Did you say Ivy Everly owns the school?”

Hank nods, and the woman’s face brightens. “How is she?”

“Married with children.” Hank replies.

“Children?” Lily’s eyes widen.

“She has three,” Hank clarifies.

“Three kids. Whoa.” They laugh for a second although I’m not certain why having three children is funny. Without further explanation, Lily continues. “This might take a few minutes. Let me step in the back, and I’ll gather up what I think you’ll need.” She winks. “But while you wait, what would you like to sample?”

Hank coughs once next to me, but my eyes fixate on a mini round cake with a white dollop of icing and a raspberry on top. “Oh, I’m good.” I dismiss with a wave, but a graveled voice in my ear encourages me.

“Try a sample, little lady.” I close my eyes to the innuendo as a shiver ripples over my skin. I try to refocus my thoughts and order the white chocolate with raspberry treat. Lily adds two other cupcakes to a pink plate and hands it to Hank, instructing him to, “Take a seat.”

We walk to the counter spanning the length of her second window and sit on high stools. Hank adjusts his stool to bring it closer to me. We face each other, and his knee slips between my thighs.

“Take a bite.” The words roll over me, and I shiver again, wanting nothing more than to open my mouth and nibble on him. He’s holding out the cupcake, and I’m wondering how my mouth will fit around the tower of icing. For some reason, my eyes lower to the seam of his jeans, but then I look away quickly. A man his size has to be large in other areas, and my mouth reacts in the same way it does toward this cupcake. Would it fit? How would it taste? A trembling hand comes to my forehead as I reprimand myself to get a grip.

“Wait.” He drags the white covered mini cake from my open mouth and I sit up, a little embarrassed and a lot frustrated as my mouth hangs open in anticipation. Setting the delicacy on the plate, he slips off his stool, disappears behind the display counter to the back room, and then returns. He stands at my side, sticking a candle in the icing next to the raspberry. My eyes widen, and my stomach flips—uncertain of his gesture and equally apprehensive of his memory. He flicks a lighter, and a single flame tops the candle.

“Happy Birthday,” he singsongs beside me, raspy and rumbling. His eyes find mine, pinning me to my seat when all I want to do is melt under it.

“You remembered?” I lower my head, picking at the hem of my athletic skirt. My cheeks heat with humiliation. A thick fingertip props up my chin as he takes his seat across from me.

“I’m so embarrassed,” I add, closing my eyes, unable to face him.

“Open those beautiful eyes, Middy.”

“Middy?” I chuckle nervously, snapping my attention up to him.

“Midge seems too old-fashioned for someone like you.”