Page 18 of Mom-Com
Because I was flustered all right. This man had held my hand with such tenderness, I’d felt it in the pit of my stomach. And then add in the blood and my thoughts were jumbled. On top of this fluster sundae was the kernel of hope flaring to life that this list of fifty ways might actually glean results.
The list had also said dropping the handkerchief still worked. That was the only thought that flittered through my brain at that moment. So I did. Drop something, that is. And that’s where some forethought would have been helpful. Dropping a handkerchief is an elegant move as it floats down to rest gently against the man’s feet. Reaching out and grabbing the first thing within reach—my sewing scissors—is not so elegant, come to find out.
I threw those scissors down in what my addled brain thought looked like a careless mistake, but was in fact more of a dart-throwing motion. Jameson jumped back as any reasonable person would when a sharp object was being hurtled in their direction. The scissors, thankfully, flew to the ground without striking him, letting out a thunderous boom when they met with my wood floor. They lay there motionless, both of us staring at the scissors like we couldn’t believe they were there and not on the table where they should have been.
My brain finally caught up to my body’s actions and wanted to dig a deep hole and disappear. Considering I didn’t have the callouses for that much shovel work, I considered—finally, some consideration—the option to pick up the scissors and go with the lie that it had been an accident. Jameson didn’t make a move to pick them up, so clearly my list wasn’t working again, so the only option was to feign ignorance.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see them there.” I leaped forward and bent down to pick them up. Just as my hand closed over the handle, my skirt decided to have no part of catching me a man. A loud ripping noise joined the weird sounds this room had endured all day, followed by a gust of cool air on my backside. The skirt that had once been too tight, now felt ridiculously loose.
I whipped up faster than my kids when they smelled bacon in the morning and shuffled backward, scissors clutched to my chest. My eyes were wide, staring at Jameson, gauging his reaction. I wondered if I was acting normally enough for him to let it go. It wasn’t a good sign when my brain started laughing at me in my own head.
His eyes shifted from my face, to the scissors in my hands, then down to the rapidly falling skirt of mine, then back to my face. I saw a mix of emotions there that would have been comical on any other day if it had been happening to anyone else. When his gaze went through the cycle again, I saw concern when he looked at my face, fear when he took in the scissors, and a hunger when he traced the movement of my skirt shifting down my legs with each shuffle backward.
The final straw to the awkward stare-down happened when my skirt made a run for it and dropped down my legs entirely, leaving me there in my T-shirt and underwear.
And a blanket of humiliation.
8
Jameson
The sun wasn’t even up yet, but I was awake, enjoying the still moments under the warm covers before the morning hustle began. My alarm hadn’t gone off yet, but my brain was up and firing, thinking about Lily-Marie. Not as a science experiment, but as a person. A friend.
A psycho.
A silent bubble of laughter rolled up from my chest. I hadn’t even had coffee yet and a big smile was taking up residence on my face. The woman intrigued me more than I could say, but the truth was...she was a little scary.
She’d opened the door wearing the weirdest outfit and then practically passed out over a tiny nick on her finger. Then in thanks she hurled scissors at my feet, like they’d offended her with their size thirteen lace-up oxfords. To top it all off, her skirt kept sliding down and all she did was inch backward, her eyes locked to my face, like she was trying to hypnotize me into not noticing she was dropping her skirt.
Of course that attempt went out the window when her skirt hit the floor and I got a flash sighting of her pale legs and pink cotton underwear. I looked away of course—I wasn’t an asshole—but the image was still locked in my brain, waiting for this exact moment to be taken out and examined in detail.
Physically, Lily-Marie was the epitome of everything feminine that turned me on. The long, blond hair. The pretty dresses. The curves I wanted to trace with my hands. The throaty voice that made me wonder what she sounded like first thing in the morning before her head even left the pillow.
So there I was, attracted to her and wanting to be her hero, bandaging her finger like I was performing open-heart surgery. And then she threw scissors at me and I didn’t know if I’d been bewitched by Freddy Krueger.
If that wasn’t whiplash enough, then she flashed me her panties and I found out her perfect curves extended to her thighs. She preferred comfortable underwear, like I would expect a stereotypical mom to choose, but they were also in a pretty pink. Like she had a flair for femininity that just couldn’t be denied.
Did I really know Lily-Marie? Why was she acting so weird yesterday? And should I let my son ride to school with her?
I rolled out of bed and pulled on a pair of gray sweatpants. As I shaved in my bathroom, I came to the conclusion that I could be attracted to her all I wanted, but I needed to reassess things this morning before I let Stein get in her car. We’d agreed to start carpooling today, but I had to protect the most precious thing in the world to me: my son. If she was acting weird again this morning, I’d come up with an excuse to take him myself.
Pink panties or not, I had a responsibility.
* * *
“Come on, Dad, we’re gonna be late!” Stein raced through the house with his backpack bouncing around behind him as he ran.
“All right, all right,” I mumbled as I followed behind, smoothing down my hair and reminding myself to ignore how beautiful Lily-Marie might look this morning and be objective.
By the time I shut the front door behind me, Stein was over by the neighbor’s SUV talking about something exciting with Clark. Their arms were flying all over as they got into it, whatever it was. Or maybe they both just had to pee. Milly was jumping up and down, trying to get either boy’s attention to no avail.
A slamming door had my head turning to see Lily-Marie exiting her front door with a travel mug on top of a book, a purse on one shoulder, and a full tote bag hooked on the other arm. She was trying to lock the front door, but was about as successful as Milly when she tried to play with the older boys.
I walked over and took the book and mug out of her hand. She glanced over and blew some hair out of her face, a quick smile her morning greeting.
“Thanks. Don’t know why I’m always rushing on Monday.” She flipped the lock and threw her keys in her purse. Turning fully toward me, she took a deep breath. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I’ll try to explain later, but right now I have to get these kids to school.”
Something about her facing her embarrassment and addressing her odd behavior yesterday put me instantly at ease. Ignoring it like the behavior was normal would have been a bad sign. So I went with my gut.
