Soaring (Magdalene #2)(55)

He tasted like chocolate (his dessert) and warmth and this coupled with his cologne that was not overwhelming but was woodsy, I liked.

He also didn’t go for a brief kiss.

He started it slow but when I liked it and showed that, he’d gone for more.

There were tongues and I was wrapped around him, enjoying myself thoroughly.

I was this until the dark against my closed eyelids was pierced with muted light and I lost some focus.

Bradley got it back.

But it disappeared completely when a faraway noise that could not be mistaken tore me right out of the moment in a way I tore my lips from Bradley’s.

I looked over his shoulder to see Mickey’s garage door going up, his black Ford Expedition gliding into the drive.

“Amelia?” Bradley called and I looked to him.

“Maybe we should call it a night here,” I whispered.

His arms still around me, arms that felt nice and strong, gave me a reflexive squeeze but he nodded.

“How are you set for tomorrow night?” he asked.

How I was set was that Junior and Alyssa wanted a date night and so did their eldest daughter, Sofie, who usually looked after he kids when they needed her to. But now she had a boyfriend who was about to go to Boston to start his freshman year of college so she wanted all the time with Conner she could get.

Therefore, I’d told Alyssa I’d come over and watch the kids and she’d fallen on that like a man dragging himself through the dessert had just hit the water hole at an oasis.

“I’m watching a friend’s kids tomorrow night. The next?” I asked.

“I have a work thing,” he muttered with disappointment. Then he gave me another squeeze. “I’ll call.”

I smiled at him, my arms still wound around his shoulders.

“That’d be good,” I said softly.

His eyes dropped to my mouth then his lips dropped there.

We didn’t make out again but our kiss was hot and heavy, just brief, before he gave me a quick peck, a sexy smile (that actually was sexy), said goodnight and walked toward his burgundy Infinity.

I watched him go for a moment before I let myself in, closed and locked the doors.

I went to the kitchen and flipped the lights before I took out my phone and did what I did more than occasionally since the last one she didn’t answer.

I texted Robin with, Hey, things are happening and there’s a lot to tell you. You’re not replying, which has me worried. Give me a time that’s good for me to call and I’ll call. Love you!

I got ready for bed, doing it a little dreamily because Bradley was a little dreamy and it was clear he liked me, but by the time I was ready for bed, I realized that Robin again hadn’t texted back.

So, finally being grown up, I phoned her.

I got voicemail and left a message.

“Okay, now I’m really worried. Honey, we need to connect. There are some things I need to explain to you. Please call me.”

I got a book and went to my buttery leather chair but I didn’t read and slowly lost all the dreamy.

Because my friend didn’t contact me.

* * * * *

The next morning, as I was rushing into Dove House, I heard my phone chime with a text.

I dug it out as I pushed open the front door and I looked to Ruth at the reception desk.

I waved and said, “Hey,” as she smiled at me and said, “’Morning, Amelia,” and buzzed me in.

I pushed open the side door that locked the old folks in and walked through as I looked down at my phone.

I stopped dead, hearing the door click behind me.

Feverishly, I swept my finger over the screen to read the whole text.

Got the garage opener, Auden had texted. Like your note said, I’ll park in the garage. Thought you should know I got it.

That was it.

No, later.

No, bye, Mom.

No, love you.

I didn’t care. I’d take it.

Smiling huge, I started walking again just as I heard shrieked, “Nazi!”

I looked to my right to see Mrs. McMurphy sitting in the lounge glowering at me, her hand a fist above her head and lifting, her tongue lolling out, doing a signal of death by hanging.

“Good morning, Mrs. McMurphy,” I called.

She jabbed a finger at me. “Got my eye on you.”

I kept smiling but I walked away and started giggling.

Because Mrs. McMurphy might think I’m a Nazi.

But still, I was happy.

* * * * *

I was in my bedroom, packing an overnight bag, doing this attempting not to expire from death by paint fumes, when my phone rang.

I feared it was Alyssa, who’d shared she’d had a very good date night with her husband that began and ended in a motel room with a bottle of bourbon and another of chocolate sauce, thus she wanted to do it again.

Soon.

However, I’d spent that time with her kids, who were awesome, but they were rowdy and they’d done me in.

I wanted to be a good friend. I liked being around her kids. But I needed to ration that or her kids might kill me.

I saw the unknown number on my screen, but it was a number that was local and vaguely familiar, so I took the call, now hoping it was not the painters telling me the project of painting Cliff Blue would take two weeks rather than one.

They’d done my bedroom that day, painting the walls a beautiful dove gray with an elegant blue accent wall. This was why I was packing. I couldn’t sleep in there, I didn’t want to sleep in my kids’ rooms and the guest bedroom was a wreck because the painters were moving on to that the next day. The living room had been painted the day before and still smelled, therefore the couch was also out.