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Chapter 42
She could get used to this—waking up in Jordan’s arms, getting ready for work knowing he was in her kitchen, making coffee, kissing him whenever she wanted. However, she had only two days to do that before her daughters returned, and they had agreed to make things less public for them. Then he would have to go back to D.C. for a few days.
“It’s a marathon, not a sprint,” he said the night after their checking on his house, when she had told him that she had to go to work the next day.
Now she tucked her purple blouse into her black slacks and shoved her feet into a pair of black ballerina flats.
“Fuck, Miss Hays, good thing you teach elementary,” Jordan said when she appeared in the kitchen. “I know I’ll fantasize about you in this outfit all day.”
She caught the two sides of his open shirt and tucked them together. “That will make two of us.”
He kissed up her neck then stopped next to her ear. “I haven’t forgotten that I wanted to take you out somewhere fancy when I was back. We have until tomorrow when the girls return. Wanna go out with me tonight?”
“Are you asking me on a date?” she said into his neck.
He pulled himself back and looked at her. “An official one.”
“Then, yes.” She smiled.
“Great. Pick you up at seven.”
They left the house together, kissing before they split—she to work, and he to his car to see his brother first, then to Wayford to see Ava and work at his parents’.
After an afternoon video chat with her daughters, who showed her a horrifying amount of candy, she got ready for her date with Jordan.
She wore a green dress, no shaper—let it cling to whatever it had to cling to—and with enough cleavage to focus the attention not just on how the color matched her eyes.
“You look amazing,” he said when he picked her up. “Though I’m more partial to Tweetie.”
“Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.” She chuckled, but in his business-casual dark chinos and pale blue dress shirt, he looked amazing and, at that moment, dinner was just in the way of her peeling those clothes off him.
The restaurant and wine cellar that he took her to in another town were worth waiting with the clothes peeling until after dinner. She knew she wouldn’t remember what they ate or drank, but she would recollect the drive there, holding his hand, talking, laughing, satisfying his interest in her family, childhood, the town she had come from.
“One sister, older, married, three kids, living near my parents, working as the accountant in their auto shop business, harsh winters, church on Sundays.”
“Any more bullet points?” He laughed. “Do you miss them?”
“I do. We saw them in the summer, and I promised to bring the girls for Christmas.”
She knew she would also remember the way her heart expanded until she was almost breathless with happiness. She would recall walking toward the entrance with him by her side, his palm on the small of her back, and his whisper, “You look absolutely amazing, and I hope I can last through dinner,” right before they went in.
In the months that she had known him, she had collected more happy moments of love, care, kindness, and attention than she had in the decade that had preceded him.
