Hold Me Close(38)

She was going to try this, Effie thought firmly as she and Mitchell exited the movie theater. She was going to figure out this dating thing, once and for all, and she was going to do what she’d told Heath she was doing. Moving forward with her life.

“I thought the movie was pretty good,” Mitchell said.

Effie eyed the smokers gathered around the ashtray to the side of the theater doors and craved a cigarette fiercely. Wouldn’t she always? It was one of those habits you could quit but never really leave behind. “It was violent.”

“Oh.” Mitchell paused to give her a sideways glance. “I’m sorry?”

She laughed and, on impulse, linked her arm through his. “No, it’s fine. I like that sort of thing. Guns and fast cars, hot women. It was a perfect date movie.”

“I thought for sure you’d pick that other one.” Mitchell looked pleased at the contact of her hand on him, his step falling in time with hers. “I’d have gone with that one, if you wanted.”

“Of course you would. You’re a gentleman.” Effie spoke sincerely but lightly, testing him.

Mitchell smiled. “I’m glad you think so.”

He eased them around a puddle on the sidewalk in front of them. She noticed that. Also how he switched sides to be between her and the street. He relinked their arms, keeping her close. She liked that, too, though while other women might’ve giggled, flirting, she kept her gaze on the path in front of them.

“It’s been three dates and you haven’t even tried to kiss me,” she continued as though it didn’t matter.

At that, Mitchell stopped, but slowly. He turned her to face him. There on the sidewalk in front of the empty storefront that had once been the local hardware store, he pulled Effie close and kissed her lightly on the mouth.

“Better?” he asked.

She hadn’t even had time to close her eyes. It wasn’t terribly romantic, but it was horrifyingly sweet. It made her want to kiss him back, to force his mouth open with hers and push inside it with her tongue. She didn’t. She smiled, though, ducking her head in what appeared to be coyness but was really a way to keep from laughing in his face. There were lots of ways to hurt someone, and that wasn’t the way she wanted to do it.

“Effie, I really like you.”

Of course he did. He had no idea who she really was. If he did, wouldn’t he run screaming down the street?

“I like you, too, Mitchell.”

“Can I take you for coffee, maybe some dessert? Do you have to get back to your daughter?”

“She’s with my mother. Coffee sounds amazing.” Shivering, Effie looked up at the sky. No stars. It smelled like snow. To kiss him again, she pushed up on her toes, but only a little, because Mitchell was only an inch or so taller than she was.

This time, the kiss lingered. Open mouths. Tongue. It was better than the first time. When she pulled away, he looked a little dazed. His mouth wet and slightly open. She didn’t kiss him again but waited to see if he’d go for it.


He did and, gentleman or not, his hands wandered to her hips, pulling her closer. She closed her eyes and let herself sink into the taste of him. Her breath caught. It was easier than she’d thought it would be, she thought before it ended and she had to open her eyes to look up at him. Mitchell looked up to the sky, then glanced back to her with a grin.

“It’s starting to snow.” He held out his arm to show her the small flakes on his dark coat sleeve.

“Oh,” Effie said. “Pretty.”

“Not as pretty as you,” Mitchell said, and she wanted to laugh at that, too, because he had no idea, did he? All he saw was her face and her body, and yes, Effie knew that she was pretty. The problem was not those outside bits but what was inside her, and so far, Mitchell saw only the outside.

For the first time in forever, Effie was glad of that, of still being a stranger to someone who thought she was nice and pretty and normal, too.

“There’s a great place a block over. They have amazing chocolate cake. How about you take me there?” she said.

And he did.





chapter eighteen

Heath had shown up with a casserole in a thermal bag and a fancy salad in a bowl. He also brought a bottle of white wine and a two-liter bottle of Coke. Why? Because he somehow knew, as he always did, when Effie was up to her ears in work and hadn’t had time to cook a full meal in days. Okay, for about a week. She and Polly had been eating leftover pizza and frozen french fries. Effie, as she always did while caught up in a project, had demolished a case of ramen noodles and a dozen mini cans of Pringles chips. She liked them because you could tip out the entire sleeve of chips onto a plate and see every single one before you ate them.

Breathing in the scent of chicken, garlic, broccoli and butter, Effie grinned. “Ohmigod, fresh vegetables. Did you make this at work?”

“Yeah.” He pulled out the casserole and set it on the stovetop, then found a serving spoon and dug it into the steaming contents. He gave her a look. “It’s not rice. It’s couscous.”

Effie paused for a second before saying, “I’ve been eating rice.”

“No shit. Since when?” Heath turned with a goggle-eyed look.

“I don’t know. A few weeks.” Effie shrugged and tried to blow off the conversation, but Heath snagged her elbow until she looked at him. She wasn’t going to tell him that she’d been seeing Mitchell, that Mitchell liked rice and that she’d finally done with the food what she’d done with the dates. Given it a chance.