Lost in La La Land(58)

Mike smiled, appearing cleaner than he had before. There was no baseball hat, his hair was brushed, and he was wearing a clean tee shirt with no holes. Even his jeans looked newish. I snuck in a slight smirk when I saw his dirty work boots.

“Hey, Em.” He leaned in lowering his face, kissing my cheek. My body reacted to the kiss, leaning in. It had been a long time since a man, a real man, had done that.

I held my breath, grinning even wider as I pulled back. “Hi. I’m so glad you came.”

“Me too.” He handed me a bottle of wine. “This is for you. It’s my favorite white, which is saying a lot because I’m not much for white wine.”

“Favorite?” I glanced at the bottle, surprised by the label. It was a California white I’d never had before, or heard of. It looked trendy and it wasn’t beer or in a can. “Come on in.” I stepped back, making room.

“Thanks.” He took his boots off outside, like always, and then stepped in. “How’s it going?” he asked.

“Good. I got the medical office all set up and I actually started considering maybe taking a cruise. One of the ladies at the bank downtown gave me a brochure and I’ve never been on one.”

“A cruise!” His eyes widened. “You must be feeling a lot better if you’re looking at cruises and you went to the bank.”

“Yeah, well the bank was forced on me,” I agreed, guilt hitting me.

“You look incredible. I wouldn't even recognize you from before. It’s almost like a miracle. Amazing what drugs can do to save us while killing us off, huh?” He followed me into the kitchen. “I had a friend who had colon cancer and when I saw him mid treatment he looked like he was dying. Then I saw him afterwards and he was a new man.”

“It’s pretty crazy,” I agreed, needing a new subject.

“How’s Lana?”

“The same,” I offered, my brow growing heavy.

“That's too bad.”

“Yeah.” It was, but like Gilda said, she was the one making the choice. “Can I pour a glass of this for you?”

“What are we having?”

“Barbecued chicken, a Mexican salad, and grilled potatoes and pie.”

“Wow, sounds amazing. I take it you’ve been cooking up a storm.” He sat at the counter and shook his head. “But I’ll take a pass on the white wine with barbecue. Why don’t I find something from the wine rack that better suits? We need something stronger, maybe a Malbec.” He got up and walked to the butler’s pantry.

“The wine rack?” I cringed, following him. “I haven’t had a chance to pick any—”

He paused as he got there, scowling. “Emma, this is shameful. All these empty racks.”

“I have beer,” I muttered, hoping I wouldn’t be offending him.

“What kind of beer?” His honey-brown eyes narrowed.

“The Stalk. The green label was pretty,” I replied weakly.

“Stalk isn’t bad but next time get the Captain’s Daughter. It’s a weird-looking label but the beer’s decent.”

“Next time?” I smiled again.

He took a step closer. “Oh yeah. There’s going to be a next time, Em.” He lifted his hand and brushed some wispy hair from my face. “And another next time after that.” He leaned in, grazing my lips. The kiss was the sort that whispered of possibility but reeked of self-control. He gently feathered his tongue against my mouth as he pressed into me. The attempt at open-mouthed kissing was hinted at and then dropped before it could be discussed further.

He pulled back, giving me a look that suggested we were having a conversation, silently.

I swallowed hard, needing to be out of the tight pantry before I did something unladylike.

Something I might regret.

No, I wouldn’t.

But I would regret rushing it.

No.

I doubted I would regret that either.

I moved forward with each thought, flinching and then recoiling. I bit my lip, struggling with the idea of having counter sex with the man I’d come to adore. But the barbecue was running and the salad was sitting on the counter, and we hadn’t even discussed the fact we were attracted to each other. And he called me a witch once. Maybe more than once.

“Are you okay?” He wrinkled his nose. “We don’t have to rush into anything. It can just be dinner.”

“I haven’t dated in the modern times, in a really long time so I don’t know what’s right or wrong. I don’t wanna look desperate, or slutty, but I think I might be.” I listened to myself and then started to laugh.

“Trust me, Em, I am as green as you are at this. I went on one dating website for three months. In that time, I learned about something called the head-and-shoulders picture which automatically means the girl is a minimum of thirty-pounds overweight. I discovered the bootie call which means she doesn’t want you to talk and only messages you to come over after ten thirty. And my personal favorite was the girls who dated multiple guys at once. They never stopped having a profile once you started seeing them. They texted other guys on the date. Not to mention, because I’m forty-five, I’m supposed to date down in age. The girls messaging me were the same age as my nieces. I gave up. I don’t really selfie or Snapchat, and I never Insta anything.” He stepped closer again. “And I don’t think you’re slutty and even if you were, I wouldn’t care. I just wanna eat some barbecue and laugh and drink some wine, obviously less wine than I thought we would be, and maybe see if this is what I think it is.”