Page 10 of Misadventures Of A Single Mom

“Well?”

“Ty doesn’t have a girlfriend.”

The Bozeman grapevine at its finest.

No girlfriend, significant other, attachments. I felt elated and petrified all at once. Just one look or a casual touch of Ty’s hand sent me into heart palpitations. What would it be like to actually kiss him? And if he got his hands—or mouth—on those nipples he seemed so eager about, I would probably come.

By eight,the kids were conked out. The full day had finished them off. After their baths, they’d insisted their plastic badges be clipped to the collars of their jammies. Deciding on a sleepover, Bobby was on the bottom of Zach’s bunk bed, Zach on top.

They’d thought instead of having the gnomes in bed with them, they’d put them out on the front stoop to watch for the newspaper man. They believed the newspaper appeared on thedoorstep by magic. I kept trying to explain about the newspaper man delivering the papers early in the morning, but they didn’t buy that logic, especially since they thought everyone else was asleep when they were. It was magic something akin to the tooth fairy. So, they left the gnomes out front to watch and see what really happened.

The windows were open, which brought in cooler air and the smell of cut grass. Fresh Montana air. None of the polluted big city stuff.

The phone rang. Caller ID said Olivia Reed.

“Hi, Mom.”

“I love the picture you emailed. It was impossible not to laugh when I saw it. Are you sure Bobby’s all right?”

I knew she’d be worried if she heard about it from the Colonel or Goldie. Fortunately, the photo downplayed anything they might have told her.

“He’s fine. You should be more worried about Zach. The little bugger.”

My mom couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Tell Bobby I said he was very brave and I’ll see them soon. I have my ticket for the fifteenth.”

“Can’t wait to see you.”

It was two hours later in Savannah so my mom didn’t linger on the phone. She was the early-to-bed, early-to-rise type. Ten at night was pretty late for her. I loved it when she visited since she woke up before the kids. Meaning, I could sleep in.

I plugged my cell into the charger and started cleaning up the dinner dishes. For a fifties house, the kitchen reeked of early eighties. It had dark wood cabinets with forest green laminate counters. The floor was a light pine, which matched nothing. The only updates in the past twenty-five years had been recessed light fixtures, a new fridge and stove top.

I wasn’t in a rush to update. The garage was off the kitchen and the room became a catch-all for coats, boots, school projects and all and sundry that came into the house. It didn’t make sense to modernize if it was a mess all the time.

The fabulous feature of the room was wall-to-wall windows in front of the kitchen table that looked out on the back yard. It made the outdoors a part of the room. I was closing the dishwasher when there was a knock at the door. Ty.

“Hi. I wanted to see how Bobby was doing,” Ty said, a small shipping box under one arm.

He wore his work uniform and looked perfect. Hot. Jumpable.

I wore “The Usual”. Shorts and a T-shirt. Barefooted. My hair in a ponytail. I'd looked better, but I was learning this man seemed to only see me at my less than fashionably-perfect moments. Maybe I had less of them than I’d previously thought. Pushing him out the door and getting pulled together was a stupid idea. Having a door slammed in his face for ten minutes—how long did it take to shower, blow dry long hair and apply makeup?—would be a sure sign I was trying too hard.

I stood back and let him in. “He’s fine. They’re asleep already. I really appreciate your help today.”

“All in a day’s work.” Ty placed the box on the counter, and then shoved his hands into his pants’ pockets.

“I just finished doing the dishes. Want a beer?” I walked over to the fridge and pulled out two. I wasn’t curious about the box at all. Nope.

“Sure.” Ty leaned a hip against the counter, took the beer I handed him and twisted off the top. “Can I ask you something?”

He took a swig.

I wasn’t sure what he would say. He could ask anything from borrowing a cup of sugar to what color underwear I wore, so I just nodded my head.

“Should I be making a move on you or something?” Ty’s mouth tipped up in a sly smile.

Yes! Make a move!I got that nervous feeling in my stomach, the one where the butterflies tried to escape, and took a glug of my beer to stall. And hopefully drown the butterflies. I definitely fantasized about kissing him a whole heck of a lot. More than kissing. Kissing was so seventh grade. I wanted him naked and deep inside me. Maybe his head between my thighs. I cleared my throat realizing he was waiting for some kind of response. “Why...why do you ask?”

“When I got home from work tonight,”—he pointed to the box—“this was on my doorstep.”

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