Fire In His Eyes (Secrets & Seduction #1)(49)

“Don’t worry about it,” he mumbled. “My mom is great, too. Old-fashioned, very religious, but she loves her family and puts them first. Always.” Then that is when he offered to get us refills and got up before I could say anything.

When he came back to the table with two fresh coffees, he said, “That story about your sister reminds me of something I wanted to tell you!”

“What,” I asked. He waggled his eyebrows at me suggestively, and it sent a shot of nerves straight through me that made me sit up straight in my chair. It reminded me of all those times he had done that with me.

“Kat . . . and . . . ,” he paused dramatically, “Joe,” he nodded seriously.

“Noooo …. No way,” I said picking up my coffee cup taking a sip.

His look of shock must have mirrored my own. “Yeah, I woke up one night. I heard strange noises in the kitchen. I thought someone had broken in. So I grabbed a bat out of my closet, and ran out of the room charging. Kat was on the counter, and Joe was standing in front of her with his pants around his ankles.”

“Oh my God, you didn’t. She didn’t. He’s like old.” I burst into laughter covering my mouth with my hand.

“Well, only by fifteen years,” he laughed with me. “But the counter, Monica, I make my food there.” He looked absolutely stricken.

We both laughed long and hard over that one. The conversation fizzled after that. We just looked at each other, neither of us knowing what to say, but neither of us wanting to leave either. I saw it in his eyes, and it stung. He still loved me. I knew I still loved him. Nothing had changed. I looked down at my watch. It was time to make my exit. “Well, I should get going. I want to get these books home and review them, make up some assignments this weekend for the kids.” I made to get up, and reluctantly he followed, hefting up the bag of manuals as I led the way to the entrance to open the door.

I popped the trunk and he set the books inside reaching up and closing the door. I turned and started towards my door, and he followed me. I spun around to offer him my hand to shake and wish him farewell. He ignored it and crushed me to him. I hugged him back, but not nearly as tightly. “I like your hair like that, Monica. I wanted to tell you that. Very natural.”

“Thank you,” I muttered into his chest breathing him in one last time.

“Can I call you sometimes? Just to talk like friends. When you’re home?” he asked. Why? I wondered. What was the point? But I didn’t have the heart to say it.

“Sure. Sure.” I patted his back. He let go, and took a step back so I could open the door of my SUV. He stood two feet from my car not moving out of the way, watching me back out and turn, and straighten the vehicle. He waved as I turned left on Del Mabry to head home.



On Sunday, my sister stopped by for brunch, sans Teddy, and I told her about going to see Victor.

“Well, sweetie. I love you. I do. You gave it a shot, but it seems like nothing has changed for him. He would have said something if things were different. I don’t think it is a good idea to keep talking to him. You need to cut the ties and move on.” When I didn’t answer and just sat there mute and in pain, she blew, “Come on, Monica, you’re f*cking delusional, the both of you, if you think you can just be friends. You can’t put fire and ice together, baby sis! One of you is going to melt! And the other one is gonna burn!”

That was true. It had been that way from the start.





I knew my sister was right. But, I wanted him in my life even if it would be just on the phone, and just as friends who talked occasionally. I was all kinds of a fool. I had myself convinced it would be nice. He would heal, we would move on. The pain would be gone. It would be like it was with my friend, Tammy, from college. We didn’t talk much but we knew we would always be there for each other, to listen to, and share our joys and sorrows with. Hopefully, we could learn how to cheer each other on, as well. Tammy and I lived far apart though my subconscious told me, and she was female. But Victor and I, we didn’t live far, and well he wasn’t a girl, either. I told myself calls would be okay though, because we would keep our distance, call for birthdays, holidays, and only rarely would we ever see each other. That would be okay, wouldn’t it?

He called Sunday at about eight o’clock. We talked for ten minutes, just talking about our day.

I called Monday at ten. I wanted to see if he had caught the show on the History Channel about returning Vietnam soldiers who had been reported Missing in Action.

He called Tuesday. He had actually watched American Idol with his daughter, and thought the show was funny, with the competing judges let alone contestants.

I had deliberately not called Wednesday because I did not want to start a pattern. These calls were supposed to be few and far between. Old habits die hard, I guess. But I was determined to try harder to resist being lured back in. I forced myself to pull out some books from work, and do some planning for my new AP class. It was late when he called on Wednesday. He sounded out of sorts. “Hi, Monica,” he said. “I just wanted to hear about your day. Everyone went out tonight, but I didn’t feel much like it. Nothing’s on television and I got bored.”

“Yes, I know. Me too. I was bored. Then I got to working on some lesson plans and time got away from me, but geesh, it’s late, I better head to bed soon,” It was nearly midnight, I noticed when I looked at the clock. “I . . . wanted to tell you something the other day, but I forgot. Joe’s retiring,” he informed me.