Page 55 of Catching Our Moment
I crossed and uncrossed my legs as he pulled up in front of my house. Damn, what was I supposed to say? I should’ve planned for this. Grace had told me to give it a try, that there were lots of things I could do besides “go all the way.” I internally rolled my eyes. It wasn’t as if I were a naïve virgin on a first date.
“It’s like getting back on the horse. You just need to learn how to walk before you gallop,” Grace had informed me.
I’d never ridden a horse, so I couldn’t really relate to the analogy.
Aliya had added, “No. It’s like riding a bike. It’s just muscle memory, and it will come back to you.
My cheeks flamed scarlet every time Mitch used the word “ride” in a sentence this evening while talking about the triathlon he’d participated in this past summer. Riding a bike, riding a horse, riding him—nope, I couldn’t picture it.
Now Shaw… He’d be a bucking bronco, and that would be the ride of my life.
Was it hot in here? I fanned myself.
“Kelcie?” Mitch said, laying a hand on my knee to get my attention.
I jumped, my leg jumping up to hit the underside of his dashboard. “Oh! Yes. Um.” I laughed to cover for being so damn awkward. “Thanks for the ride!”
I did not just say that. Kill me now. Another flash of heat ran up my neck and to the top of my head.
He held up his hands as if to calm me. “Kelcie, honey. It’s fine. I realize it must be hard getting back in the saddle after your divorce.” He smiled warmly at me. “I’m not going to jump you.”
I covered my eyes with both my hands. No more riding metaphors—please.
“It’s okay.” He gently took my hands in his. “There are no expectations. Truthfully, I had none coming here. I just wanted to spend some time with you.”
“I’m so embarrassed. It’s just…I haven’t been out…” I let my head fall against the headrest, “on a date in…God, I don’t know how long. But I didn’t think I’d be this awkward.”
He chuckled and stroked the tops of my hands with his thumbs. “It’s okay.” He bent his head slightly, the corner of his mouth ticking up in what I could imagine did indescribable things to other women. “Honestly, I thought the odds were stacked against me in getting you to say yes.” He raised his brows and nodded at the house where the porch light suddenly came on.
What was Shaw doing?
Mitch squeezed my hands and brought them to his lips for a gallant kiss. Then, he was out of the car and walking around to open my door, holding out a hand to help me out.
“Someone is keeping a close eye on me.”
“Aaron is still at Grace’s.”
“I didn’t mean Aaron.”
When I didn’t respond, he said, “Oh, Kelcie.” He leaned down, his cologne heady and his whiskers teasing my skin as he gave me a chaste kiss on the cheek that was close enough to my lips and lingered too much to be considered friendly. As he pulled back, he whispered, “I don’t know Shaw very well, but given that he’s sitting up waiting for you to get home, I don’t think he’s as upset about Riley as you think.”
His wink and sinful smile made my hormones question my instincts—and my sanity. He pushed his hand through his hair as he strode in front of the headlights, an excellent spotlight to his well-tailored pants showcasing a backside that wasn’t anything to turn away.
I was too dazed by Mitch and the fact that I was sending him home to comprehend his words. But once he was in his car, the fog lifted, and I walked at a brisk pace up the sidewalk to the house. I caught just enough movement to notice Shaw’s door close.
The curtain in the bay window moved. He needed to work on his stealth skills. But more importantly, we needed to have words about him spying on me.
I stomped up the steps to our shared porch and opened my screen door, but then thought better of it.
We were going to have words about the spying right now. I knocked on his door. No answer. I knocked again, but nothing. “Hey, 007. I saw you.” I turned the knob on his door. Locked. “You aren’t as sly as you think you are, so you might as well open up and explain yourself.” I began banging.
He opened the door so fast I fell inside and into him. He stepped back, bracing me with his body and one arm, then juggled me into a secure standing position, maintaining his own balance. He even managed not to spill the cocktail glass he had in his other hand with the talented coordination that had made him a very rich man.
I was reminded of the reason he was having the cocktail. He was probably lonely and nursing a broken heart. The thought deflated some of my indignation, and I covered the rest by taking the cocktail from him and sipping it.
An old-fashioned. I grimaced. Yuck.
He walked to his fridge, pulled out a berry vodka seltzer—my favorite—opened it, and handed it to me as he walked back into his front room. “How was the date?”
