Page 69 of A Lesson for Laurel

“I don’t know,” he said. “I just knew I wanted something better for myself and more than what people thought I could be.”

He hated to think he went to be a lawyer to thumb his nose up at others.

Maybe it started that way, but it wasn’t the full reason.

“You got it,” she said.

“I did,” he said, rubbing her fingers one more time and then putting his hand on the steering wheel.

He offered to drive since his Audi had been sitting in the garage for weeks. He’d taken it out a few times to run errands, but Laurel’s face when she saw it today said it all. He’d been using Abe’s truck because he didn’t want to keep moving vehicles around in the narrow driveway. He’d done that enough when he was a kid.

They arrived at Laurel’s father’s house shortly after, the drive with just the two of them talking back and forth about their jobs. She’d said Poppy had her baby on Monday. He hadn’t known nor asked. He wasn’t into those things that much.

“Laurel,” her aunt said, coming to the door. “It’s so good to see you again. And look at you. You’ve got to be Easton.”

Laurel had described her aunt’s appearance well, but he found it comforting almost. Her eyes looking him up and down were filled with humor more than anything else.

He wasn’t sure anyone he’d dated had a parent do that and he felt his face blush, but also knew these were his kind of people. Helen reminded him right away of his Aunt Carrie. Not in looks, but in the no-bullshit kind of personality that he grew up with.

“That’s me,” he said, putting his hand out.

“Aunt Helen, this is Easton Cooke. Easton, my aunt. Let us in, Aunt Helen. I know Dad wants to meet him.”

Laurel made a funny production about elbowing her way past her aunt after she set the pie in the woman’s hands, then walked to her father for a hug.

John Glasgow was a big man and reminded Easton of his Uncle Kurt.

The two men looked each other over and held their stare. He wasn’t backing down.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he said, putting his hand out.

“Dad, be nice,” Laurel said. “Easton, my father, John. Dad, this is Easton.”

“He doesn’t look like a fancy lawyer in his clothing,” her father said. “Big guy but soft hands. What could you have been thinking to not catch that?”

“Soft hands?” he asked. Maybe he did get a few blisters after the day he replaced the pavers and that slowed him down from doing any more after.

“Dad,” she said. “That’s horrible. I’m sure there is a callus or two there from typing.”

He held his hands up. “My thumbs from hitting the space bar more than anything else.”

John and Helen laughed. “He’s got a good attitude,” John said. “You’ll do.”

“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” she asked hours later when they got back to her place.

“No,” he said. “Though it was touch and go with the soft hands comment.”

“I like your soft hands,” she said, picking one up and kissing his thumb. “And the callous is right here. It feels great when you rub it on my most sensitive spots.”

His hand slid into her jeans and cupped her heat. “This sensitive spot?”

“That would be the one,” she said. “Are you going to do it now?”

“I am,” he said, parting her lips and sliding his thumb up and down.

She spread her legs a little wider for him, but he needed to get her undressed.

“We should take this somewhere else,” she said as they were in the living room.

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