Page 25 of Bourbon & Bonfires

“It’s the least I can do. Now, do you have containers to store this meat?”

Chuckling, he begins opening cupboards and pulls out a few containers and lids and places them on the counter next to me. For the next few minutes, we work side by side cleaning up from dinner, and a pang of nostalgia hits me. Memories of my childhood, my parents and how they worked as a team. My dad loved my mom, and they were happy. Taylor and I would often catch them kissing in the kitchen and make a huge production over their inappropriateness. But truthfully, I wished for that as a child. I wished I would grow up and find a man who was not only my lover but my partner. A man who would make me laugh, make me smile, and never make me cry.

“Thanks for helping. While you were off in la-la land, I promised Mason an ultimate battle on the Xbox. Is that cool?”

“You want to spend your Friday night with a teenager? Don’t you have better, more single guy things to do?”

“I’m not sure what ‘single guy things’ are,” he says with air quotes. “But, I enjoy hanging out with Mason, and I never turn down an Xbox challenge.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m positive. Why don’t you head home and take a bath, read a book, drink some of that bourbon you love so much? I can bring him home in a few hours.”

“Everything you just said sounds amazing. If you swear it’s not an imposition.”

“Nope, and I only had the one beer. I’ll join Mason in a root beer float and bring him home by ten, okay?”

“Sure, sounds great.”

“Great.”

It feels like minutes, but I know it’s only seconds that we stare at one another. I wonder briefly if he’ll lean in to finish what he started before dinner. If he’ll kiss me again. If those perfect lips will lay themselves on mine and if those large hands will grasp me, pulling me to his rock-hard body. He doesn’t. Instead, he leans down and places a kiss on my cheek. It isn’t a huge gesture, but it’s the perfect one, and I smile in response.

Icannot believe I almost kissed Addison again. Sure, I’ve thought about doing nothing else the last few times I’ve seen her, but tonight was not the night for that. Tonight was about friendship and being there for Mason. When he saw my television and console, he started talking shit about how great he was at every game Xbox has ever put out. I called bullshit, and he said something along the lines of “prove it old man.” Little shit. So there seemed like no better time to prove that I am, in fact, the true master of the Xbox.

Then his beautiful mother sat in my kitchen, drinking wine, and making my house feel like a home for the first time. Her laughter is engaging and her wit keeps me on my toes. But it was the way she blushed anytime I caught her checking me out or the way she looked at me wide-eyed when I leaned in to capture her lips ... those were the moments that have me wishing this was more than friendship.

“Dude, what’s your deal?” Mason asks, bringing me back to reality.

“Nothing. You tired of me kicking your butt yet?”

“As if you could. I’m just taking it easy on you.”

“Whatever. Look we only have about thirty minutes before I have to take you home. How about we turn this off and stop for some frozen yogurt on the way to your house?”

“I could eat some frozen yogurt.”

“I bet you could, man. Let’s do it. We should get your mom some too.”

“Why?”

“Why what? Why get your mom a frozen yogurt?” Mason shrugs. “Dude, first because your mom is a woman, and dessert is never turned down. Second, because you both had kind of a rough day, and it would make her smile. But mostly because she’s your mom and you should always do things to make her happy and smile.”

“Ah man, you like my mom. That’s gross.”

“I don’t—I mean, of course I like your mom. She’s nice.”

“No I meanlikelike. That’s totally gross. My mom is like,old.”

I begin to correct Mason and tell him his mother is not old and is in fact one of the most beautiful, kind, funny, and sexy women I’ve ever met. I want to tell him he’s lucky I have fucking restraint because I wanted nothing more than to scoop her up and devour her on my kitchen island. But I don’t. I don’t tell Mason anything, and I don’t respond to him. I simply smack him on the back of the head and grab a sweatshirt and my keys.

After a ten-minute argument at the frozen yogurt place, we pull up in front of Addison and Mason’s house only a few minutes late. I notice she actually lives on the same street as Minnie’s sister, Dakota, and I’m glad to see she’s close to friends.

Mason opens his door and reaches for the yogurt he made for Addison, but I grab it instead. “I’ll carry this, you get the door.” Mason simply shrugs in response and jogs up the short walkway to the front steps. When he reaches for the doorknob and it opens, I make a mental note to remind Addison to lock her door. Lexington is safe, but you can never be too vigilant, especially when you’re a woman living alone with a kid.

Mason left the door open for me but with my hands full, I begin to juggle the cups when the screen door opens. Standing before me is Addison in a tight pink tank top—and by the look of her pebbled nipples, no bra—low slung sleep pants with little hearts on them, and her hair piled high on her head. Her face is free of makeup and her skin is slightly pinkish like she was blushing or just out of a hot bathtub. The visual of the bathtub is a little more than I can handle, and I clear my throat, praying I don’t sport a boner like a horny teenager.

“Hey there. You didn’t have to walk Mason ... Whatcha got there?”

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