Page 10 of Midlife Tiger’s Last Chance

CHAPTER SIX

Brock

This woman is breathtaking and as we make our way along the sidewalk, I do my best not to ogle her figure too much. She’s almost transformed. It’s as though a few hours of time just being a woman is like a magical potion for her. The burden I see in her eyes is almost invisible now and though her posture has always been perfect, I can almost see that she walks with a lighter burden on her shoulders.

“We’re heading in the wrong direction,” she says. “Your car is the other way.”

“I’m afraid I wasn’t completely honest with you,” I say. She stops and turns around and I hurry to clarify. “I just didn’t want you to worry about an outfit but for dinner, you’ll need something to wear and there’s a boutique a block down I know will have something for you.”

Her wariness disappears and her face assumes an expression of surprise. “You… you’re buying me a dress?”

“If you’ll let me,” I say with a smile.

Minnie giggles and says, “Can it be like the movie where you tell the manager we need a lot of people and a lot of sucking up because you’re going to spend an obscene amount of money?”

That catches me entirely by surprise and I laugh loudly. Without thinking, I pull her into my arms and say, “Well, you’re definitely a pretty woman. Very pretty.” Again, without thinking, I lean down and before I know it, my mouth is on hers. I think both of us are very surprised and it shows in the tenseness of our bodies. As our tongues explore, though, the tenseness seems to evaporate. Her arms come up and I feel her hand on one side of my face. The other takes hold of the back of my head. I slide my hands down to the small of her back and keep her close.

When we finally break off the kiss, she says, “That was nice. You know we’ll probably end up on the society page now.”

I smile and lead her to the dress shop. “I doubt anyone even knows I’m back in town yet.”

Of course, the manager of the dress shop knows and the moment we walk in, there is a flurry of activity. Minnie is quickly overwhelmed by it all and spends most of our time there with a lovely, deep blush on her face. We leave with assurances the dress she picks will be altered and ready upon her arrival. I also make sure she gets shoes to match and I dutifully look away when a saleswoman helps her choose lingerie and stockings.

As we walk back toward my car, she says, “No man has ever done anything like that for me.”

I shrug. “I don’t want to be cavalier about it, really, but I can afford it.”

“Oh God,” she says, “I’m not talking about the money. I just mean clothes for an occasion. Hell, nobody has ever gone to a thrift shop with me to make sure I have clothes for the beach or anything.”

“You know, I own a private beach on the coast in Costa Rica,” I say with a wink.

She rolls her eyes and asks, “So what’s next Romeo?”

I chuckle. “Would I be an asshole if I take you somewhere else that I own?”

She narrows her eyes. “That depends. Where exactly are you taking me?”

“You’ll see,” I say.

We walk to the city park nearby. The park itself is also one of my projects, the last public works project I completed before the divorce. I don’t actually own the land or the buildings on the land, since I donated them to the city upon completion. I do, however, own the arboretum next to the park and that’s where I take Minnie.

When I lead her inside and she steps under the shade of a huge baobab tree, she gasps.

“Oh my God!” she says. “This is incredible!”

“I thought you’d like it,” I say.

I lead her through the different exhibits. After the African exhibit, there’s the South American exhibit and she gazes wide-eyed at the multicolored orchids and passion flowers shaded by massive palms and rubber trees. She claps with delight when she sees a catfish poke its whiskers above the surface just behind a giant lily pad and when we loop around to the desert exhibit, she excitedly tells me about the cacti that grew around her home in California and how she used to love making prickly pear pie from the fruit. I make a mental note to send some prickly pear pie to her address when the fruiting plants at the greenhouse are harvested.

After the Arboretum, we leave for dinner. She leans onto my arm and I feel like a million dollars as we arrive for our reservation at Le Chateau d’Orleans—a five-star restaurant famous locally for winning two Michelin stars. The good money is on them earning their third star this year and joining the top echelon of restaurants worldwide.

I love them because in addition to serving award-worthy food, the people are far more down-to-Earth and nothing at all like the snooty crowd you find at most high-end restaurants. I appreciate that even more tonight since Minnie is clearly concerned about the atmosphere when we arrive and it’s not until the server approaches with a smile and a casual demeanor that she relaxes.

She blushes and says, “Thank you for the outfit. I feel very sexy.”

In addition to the dress, she’s also purchased panties, stockings, and a garter and belt. The whole effect is breathtaking, especially since the dress is very form-fitting on top and she wears no bra underneath. I have to agree with her, so I do.

“You look sexy,” I say.

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