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She tapped her foot nervously, as she bit her lower lip. He hung his head again, with his hands on his hips, likely conjuring other justifiable reasons to refuse.
Nerves set in as she envisioned Mia’s reaction to his rejection. Her daughter had just lost the only father she’d ever known. Birdie couldn’t stand by while Mia suffered the loss of another.
“Besides,” she added as a last-minute ploy. “I made a promise to Ms. Pinkie to turn her and her posse into social media mavens. And let me tell ya, that’s gonna take some time.”
“I don’t know, Bird, I don’t like the idea of you staying here by yourself.”
Leaning her elbows on the glass counter, she gave the stark room another sweeping glance, thinking how it reminded her of the apartment she had found in Duxbury. It too was above a service station, but not nearly as old as Folsom’s and with a full bathroom and kitchenette.
After Maisie had died and Birdie was in dire need of yet another new town and fresh start, she found the rental ad for the studio apartment on Craigslist.
Standing here in the small space, she found the faint smell of motor fuel wasn’t so much offensive as nostalgic. Now, for a couple of reasons.
When her gaze returned to his, she noticed his full attention was locked onto her mouth and she suddenly felt self-conscious.
The headlights from passing vehicles gave the interior a clandestine aura, outlining his blurred body making it seem ethereal and ghostlike. As if one of thousands of dreams she had of the man over the years was coming to life.
She did her best to not fidget. But the room seemed bathed with mood lighting and fond, if not romantic, memories. If you ignored the slight smell of motor oil from the service area, it really was an ideal location for a passionate interlude.
You know, if you really used your imagination and had your lifelong dream staring at you with what appeared to be longing, and an impressive erection attempting to tunnel out of his jeans.
* * *
Takinga couple steps until standing in front of her, he continued to gaze into her eyes with something she hadn’t seen from another man in what seemed decades. His eyes moved slightly south until they focused on her mouth.
Her body instantly tensed, a mixture of skepticism and lust. When was the last time a man looked at her like this? Hell, when was the last time she’d had sex?
She swallowed as his tongue swiped at his bottom lip, taking a step toward her, and she thought she was going to swoon. Wasn’t that the universal sign for lust? The whole lick your lips thing?
Couldn’t be.
But then there was the baseball bat of an erection staring her in the face. Well, actually, she was staring at it.
Stop the fantasizing, Birdie, and don’t look at it!
Out of nowhere, her body flinched at the unexpected sensation of his hand finding its way to her cheek, his thumb moving across her bottom lip. His mouth was inches from hers, warm fingers touching heron purpose.
Her brain felt fuzzy and her body tingled as she tried to recall an amorous event of similar magnitude, preferably within the last decade, to confirm the series of events occurring were of an amorous nature.
His deep voice pulled her in. “How is it that I can’t despise you after everything you’ve done? That I still want you?”
Birdie was, for the first time in a very long time, speechless. This man before her was not the ever dutiful, affable, benevolent mayor, or young boy, looking out for others while ignoring his own needs. His own wishes and desires.
No, this man was smoldering. On the verge of mass amorous destruction. Casualties be damned.
“Do you want to know what it is I’ve fixated on all these years?” His eyes weren’t kind or loving but harsh and unforgiving.
Birdie shook her head, thinking: Maaaybe, he fixated on how she drugged him and slept with him and then left town impregnated with his baby… there were so many options to choose from.
“I’ve obsessed about how I can’t recall what it was like to be with you.”
Birdie shook her head ever so slightly, confused but unwilling to poke the bear. Curiosity took over, and she poked him anyway, but delicately. “What… do you mean?”
“I mean,” he chuckled sarcastically. “I’m tortured by the fact I’ve held you in my arms, kissed you, was inside of you… and yet, I remember nothing.”
She swallowed audibly. “I hear that’s a common side effect of the drug. You know, blackouts.”
His eyes narrowed. “Did you know that was my first time?”
