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“Yeah. I like to retract all that stuff specifically.” She gives me a faint, hopeful smile. “You think we could just forget I said any of that?”
I open the marinating bag and use tongs to lay slices of steak on the now hot pan, letting them sear on both sides for a couple minutes each. The pungent, savory aroma fills the air, and I remember that I’m really, really hungry. I can't help but feel just a little bit more charitable about Bunny’s big mouth.
“Yeah, okay. I'll forgive you if you set the table.”
“Consider it done!”
I hear her clanking plates around while I focus on my stovetop steak task. As long as I remember that I'm a little bit irritated with her for her insensitive comments — even though they weren't really all that bad, and she has certainly said worse — then I can avoid thinking about August and how he looked when he walked in the room.
I can also avoid thinking about the way, for just a second, he seemed to forget that he's not supposed to look at me like that.
For just a second, before his defenses went back up, I saw something in his eyes. Something hungry. Something electric and maybe even a little dangerous.
Something I've been hoping I would see for a long time in real life.
I have seen it in dreams, though. I've imagined him looking at me like that: the way that men look at their conquests in the movies. I have played through the way my body would shiver in response over and over again, savoring the anticipation of that moment.
It was just like that. When his eyes raked over me, it was just like being struck by lightning, or startled by a predator, or rocked by an earthquake. Right down to the core of me, I could feel it... just from that one millisecond-long glance.
I hope I get to see it again.
Chapter 25
August
Ron scowls and jerks his chin toward the other room. I follow him out of the kitchen, sure that I am about to get an earful. He saw me looking at Dahlia. I know it. When we walked in, I was distracted and not thinking clearly. I'm usually so careful to keep my eyes off my friend’s daughter, but didn't realize she was going to be standing right there in front of me.
“Man, I'm sorry,” he starts, knocking me a little bit off-balance. He's not the one who is supposed to be sorry. I'm supposed to be sorry.
“What are you talking about, Ron?”
“Eh, I totally spaced out,” he sighs, retreating further into the den, out of possible earshot. “I was supposed to text Dahlia and tell her you were coming for dinner. Totally slipped my mind. I'm sorry I made that awkward.”
“Oh, that,” I start, shrugging. “Don’t even mention it.”
Relief blows through me like a cool wind. It looks like I've escaped getting my ass kicked yet again.
He holds his hands out.
“She doesn't mind. She really doesn't. Dahlia loves to cook. And I'm sure Bunny is helping her do whatever. But if this is too weird for you, I totally understand…”
I shake my head and wave my hand in the air, happy to blow this off. Just another narrow miss, and I’m not sure how many more chances I’ll have to get off scot free. Dahlia is over twenty-one now, and I think the expiration date on my chivalry passed at least six months ago.
But still, I value Ron's friendship. We've known each other for a few years now, and he's really help me through some difficult times. When I lost my wife in a car accident, it was totally out of the blue. She was beautiful and charming, but I guess I didn't even realize how much I loved her until she was gone. Just like that, she went off to work one morning and didn't come home. I didn’t even hear about it until lunchtime.
I spent the next few months in the support group, bawling my eyes out like some kind of fairytale character, shocked and half-outraged that I even missed her that much. I didn't know how good I had it, until the day she wasn’t ever going to be coming home again. My tough guy act crumbled all at once, taking me down with it.
But when Ron showed up a few months later, I was still swirling around the toilet bowl of my emotions, and Ron was something different. He was open with his grief, but not drowning in it. Not submerged. He seemed to have a path out of it, and we started talking. We had a lot in common.
I may be able to kick his ass in the real world, but with all the emotions and crap, Ron is the bigger man.
Don't tell him I said so.
In fact, Ron could probably handle the information that I found his daughter uncomfortably attractive. If I would've just told him sometime in the last couple years, we could probably have already gotten through it together. Instead, I’ve created a pretty awkward situation.
And here I am again, accepting her hospitality.
“So, hey, did you hear from Trina?” he asks me, crossing his arms in front of his chest and knuckling his chin thoughtfully. This is his standard “supportive friend” pose. He naturally squares off and lets me know he's definitely ready to listen.
