PosterBoyForAverage Page 7

Aubrey laughed. “I’m hardly fascinating. And no. I’m not. Not really.” She unzipped her portfolio, trying to shut off this line of questioning.

  “Right. I’m sorry to pry.” Gail sat up straight and tapped her desk. “What yummy goodies have you brought to show me this time?”

  Aubrey took a deep breath, relieved to be past the girly gossip. It was true that she and Gail usually shared some fun and pleasantries at first. But it was also true that she was so baffled—and yes, somewhat hurt—by what was going on, or actually wasn’t going on, with her and Mike that she just wanted to skip it.

  “I have some photos to show you. This is Brad. This is Dale. This is—”

  Gail snagged a picture from the fanned out prints and said, “But who is this?”

  Damn it and double damn it. As soon as she saw the ragged cuff of one jean leg and the work boot she didn’t need to see any more to know that the woman had plucked Mike out of the pile. “That is Mike,” Aubrey said, keeping her voice nice and even. “He actually lives next door to me.”

  Gail gaped at her. “Next door?”

  “Yes.”

  “As in neighbor?”

  Aubrey tried to laugh. “I do believe that’s what it means.”

  “Holy moley! Did you win the Lotto in Heaven or something?”

  “He’s nice-looking, right?”

  “He’s perfect,” Gail said, dragging her gaze back down to the shot. “He’s manly without being beefcakey. Buff without being overgrown. Hot without being too pretty. And he’s not fourteen years old! He’s a man!”

  Aubrey couldn’t help but laugh. “I take it that means you wouldn’t mind seeing him on a Checkered Horse cover?”

  “One or…seven. You know, I’m easy.” She winked at Aubrey. “And you, lucky thing, living next door to him. How do you keep your hands off? A single, pretty woman like you.”

  I don’t…

  “Not easy, but you know, we’re neighbors. Things could get sticky. The next book I think you were interested in was—”

  “City Lights, Broken Hearts. I think he’d be perfect for it. Maybe black and white. But you know,“ Gail waved her hand dismissively, “you don’t need me weighing in. You know what you’re doing and you always do great for us. It’s why we’re always so happy to work with you. Can I get you lunch? We were just about to order. I can tell you all the office gossip and you can tell me some more about your amazingly buff, extremely hot neighbor.”

  Aubrey opened her mouth to decline and realized, sadly, that she had no real reason to. Nothing to rush back home for. Nothing that was so pressing she couldn’t spend an hour or two shooting the shit, gossiping and eating a decadent sub from the local sub joint.

  “Sure,” she said. “Why not?”

  * * * * *

  “Hey there, stranger.”

  Aubrey jumped and nearly dropped her paper in the grass along with the coffee cup she was clutching. She hadn’t heard him sneak up. Weren’t roofers gone by this hour of the morning?

  When she glanced up at Mike, he looked tired. Not just tired. He made tired look good. What he looked was damn fucking drained. His tan seemed to have faded a bit and dark circles had taken up residence beneath his bright eyes. Which weren’t looking so bright, now that she thought about it.

  Concern overshadowed any other feeling she might have for him at the moment. “Are you okay?” She stood, closing her robe where it had fallen open. His eyes had danced briefly over her cleavage. She had a mole just above her right breast and she felt his gaze as strongly as if he’d run his tongue over it. The phantom sensation forced a shiver to skip up her spine.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re a terrible liar,” she said, smiling. “Can I buy you a coffee?”

  “I can’t—” But then he shook his head, looked at his watch and said, “I mean, sure. Why not? I’m a cheap date.” He grinned and it was so much less than his normal smile that her concern dropped to a cold, low-level fear.

  “Come on in,” Aubrey said, leading the way. “You look like a man who could use a double shot of java in his java.” She was supremely aware of him being right behind her as she walked. She wondered if he was watching her ass. And found that she hoped he was.

  She held the door open and let him squeeze past her. Having him that close as he entered her house stole her breath. And Aubrey realized she was very grateful she’d brushed her teeth. The urge to kiss him and erase that exhausted, haunted look from his face was nearly irresistible.

  Somehow she managed to keep her hands to herself.

  “I haven’t seen you—” She realized the best way to end that was since we nearly had sex in my basement. So she quickly rerouted her mouth. “In a few days. Everything okay?”

  He put his head in his hands, resting his elbows on her breakfast bar. Aubrey poured hot water over grounds, slid him a mug and the sugar bowl. She dug out a spoon and handed that over too. “Mike?” she said when he didn’t answer.

  “Everything is normal is all,” he said with a bitter laugh. He quickly dumped two teaspoons of raw sugar in his cup and Aubrey followed suit. When the timer went off, she poured their extra-strong coffee from the French press.

  “Normal must be exhausting,” she said softly. “Because you look whooped.”

  He stirred and waved off her offer of cream. “Chuck’s…” He sighed and Aubrey felt her stomach drop out. Chuck his youngest. Chuck with cystic fibrosis. Chuck who she had never considered in this scenario when she let her poor little feelings get hurt.

  Stupid, stupid. She chewed her lip nervously. “Is he okay?”

  “He will be. He’s starting to be more himself. The treatments are helping. It just takes time.”

  Aubrey sat across from him and put her hand over his. “Is there anything I can do?”

  Mike looked up, surprised, then smiled. The smile made a world of difference, she thought. Her heart quickened when he smiled.

  “No. But the coffee and being nice to me are helping.”

  She chuckled. “Why wouldn’t I be nice to you?” She stood and popped two English muffins in her double toaster without even asking if he wanted one. The man clearly needed to eat. He had hollows in his cheeks.

  “Well, for one thing, this does not equal niceness. Angela and I usually do our fair share of fighting when he’s in the hospital. Too much stress and suddenly we’re playing the blame game again as to whose fault it is that we failed our kids and got divorced.”

  Aubrey swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. Unsure if there was anything she could say.

  Mike went on. “For another thing, you don’t have to be nice to me. And for another thing, I left in the middle of what was probably going to be some mind-blowing sex.”

  Her heart jumped at his words and she nearly choked on her coffee. She glanced over her shoulder, not willing to turn and face him so he could see how much that one sentence had gotten to her.

  “There’s time for that,” she said. She cleared her throat again when his eyebrows went up. When the English muffins popped she jumped a little.

  “Jesus. Maybe too much coffee,” she joked. She plated the muffins. “Butter?”

  He nodded. “Half a stick.”

  “Ah, you’re like me,” she said. “Love the butter.”

  “It’s no use eating them if they’re not leaking butter,” Mike said, running his finger up the seam in her countertop. He looked too serious for her all over again. Aubrey found she wanted to say something—do something—to soothe him and help. All she could really do was feed him.

  She pushed the plate toward him. “Eat. You look like you could use the calories.”

  He ate. She watched him and found herself smiling. Something about him made her want to make sure he was okay. “Good?”

  “Perfect. Eat yours before it gets cold.”

  They sat, eating their ridiculously buttered muffins. When she finished, she wiped her hands and her mouth and tried her best to appear calm and unflappable. “Is that
why…is this why you said we were a bad idea?”

  This time Mike covered her hand with his. “Yes. You don’t need all this. It’s chaos when he’s doing poorly. It shakes everything up because he has to come first. He does come first. His mother and I don’t agree on much.” Mike shook his head. “But that we do agree on.”

  Her stomach dipped with sadness and Aubrey pulled her hand back, willing herself not to have hurt feelings again but unable to find a way to prevent it. “Do you really think I wouldn’t…couldn’t understand that, Mike?”

  He looked surprised and then regretful. He let out another exhausted sigh and rubbed his knuckles to his forehead like he had a headache. “And here I’ve come in and put my big giant foot into my gargantuan mouth. I didn’t mean that at all, Aubrey. If anything…” He ran his finger up the back of her knuckle and Aubrey had to repress a tremble. “If anything, I think you’d understand it too well. Be too accommodating. Be so okay with it that your life got sucked up into it too. And that’s not fair.”

  She swallowed hard. There was no logical reason that after just a week’s time she should be about to say what she was about to say. There was no logical reason not to just nod and let him go on his way with well wishes for his son. There was no reason other than…her gut instinct when it came to Mike Sykes.

  “What I think is unfair is you not even giving me the option.”

  A look of surprise spread across his handsome features and then his cell rang.

  Chapter Ten

  She didn’t want to sit and stare at him as he took the call and obviously grew more aggravated by the second. So Aubrey grabbed their plates and began to clean up breakfast dishes. She also did her best not to eavesdrop. Which is difficult when you’re in the same room with a person and have no other distractions.

  “Can you just wait until I—” He sighed. “Look, if the doctor isn’t sure of letting Chuck go home then—”

  And finally, “God damn it, Angela, why are you being so difficult? This isn’t a contest.”

  He got up and left the room and Aubrey realized her hands were shaking. She wanted to go out and hold his hand or rub his back or something. Anything. Anything at all would be better than the helpless feeling.

  She could practically hear Bradlee in her head though. “You’re getting attached too fast.”

  But was she really? It had been sneaking up on her slow and steady. How much she liked him, how nice he was, how he seemed like just a good guy, a good person. And…

  His hands were on her shoulders and she jumped. “Sorry,” he said, leaning close to her neck and talking over her shoulder. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

  “I guess I drifted off to la-la land,” she laughed. His hands touching her made her shiver. Her body remembered the pleasure he’d delivered the last time he touched her and her body wanted more. She wanted more.

  Mike chafed her arms gently. “You cold?”

  “No. Just a…a shiver. What’s up?”

  “I have to go. See, weren’t we just talking about this? The doctor isn’t so certain about Chuck leaving, my ex-wife is hell-bent on him being home so she can take care of him and I’m going down there to try to put out the fires and make some sense of it.”

  Aubrey nodded. “Got it. But Mike—” She turned and somehow being face-to-face with him, that up close and personal, made the ache in her chest worse. She wanted to put her hands on his tanned, too-thin cheeks and kiss him. Tell him she could be patient and understand and she didn’t care about the chaos.

  “Yeah?” His eyes kept darting to her mouth and then her eyes. Back and forth until she felt dizzy with it.

  “Don’t assume I can’t or won’t understand. I’m…I’m a pretty good person,” she finished, feeling stupid.

  He laughed and then did lean in and kiss her. It was a gentle kiss. A fairytale kiss. “Oh Aubrey, I know you’re a good person. That’s why I didn’t want you all twisted up in this knot of weirdness.”

  “I—”

  This time his eyes found the clock and she could see the anxiety to get to his son increasing. “Okay. We can talk later,” she finished weakly. “Good luck.”

  “Thanks. And thanks for breakfast.”

  Before she could answer, he cupped the back of her head in his large hand, pulled her forward and really kissed her.

  She didn’t hear him shut the front door because all she could hear at that moment was the blood thundering in her ears.

  * * * * *

  “Too fast, too fast,” Bradlee said. She was sitting cross-legged on a handmade throw she’d made by sewing bandanas together. They were both waiting for Laura’s team to finish playing soccer.

  “I miss field day. It’s the one thing I miss about school, actually,” Aubrey said, patting the multicolored squares beneath her legs.

  “Don’t change the subject, missy,” Bradlee said. Then she stuck her fingers in her mouth and wolf-whistled. “Go, Laura, go! Kick some…um…ball!”

  One of the other parents started laughing and Bradlee snickered.

  “Talk about changing the subject,” Aubrey said. “And deafening me.”

  “Sheesh. Don’t be so sensitive.”

  “Not sensitive. Deaf,” she said again. “And what do you mean too fast?”

  Aubrey found she couldn’t look at her sister. It was easier to study the blanket she sat on, the toe of her sandal, the teams out on the field fighting for control of the soccer ball. “You know you’re not the only one who—” Aubrey cut herself off. Biting her tongue. Stupid.

  Too late. She’d gotten Bradlee’s attention and not in a way she wanted. “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Tell me!” Bradlee clamped a strong hand on her arm and leaned in when she realized she was being too loud. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. You know I have a big mouth. Even worse when Timothy is away. He tempers me.” Bradlee snorted. “He also tells me when to shut the fuck up.”

  “Brad!”

  “What? You think I’m the only parent here to say fuck? I whispered it. Now shut up about my foul language and tell me.”

  “You’re not the only one who wants…this.” Aubrey pointed to the kids playing. “Maybe I want that. One day.”

  “And this is the first guy who’s made your pulse race who you can see that with?” Bradlee looked absolutely stunned. Which made Aubrey squirm. She should have kept her giant mouth shut.

  She bit her lip, considered lying. But something about the warm sun, the cool air, the kids yelling and the laughter of parents made her tell the truth. It was the truth serum of life, happiness.

  “Not just that. He’s the first man who’s made my pulse race in a long, long time. So long I can’t remember the last.”

  Bradlee was struck mute. That was rare all by itself. Finally she said, “Wow. So um…go! Run to him!”

  “If you start singing Bryan Adams I’m leaving,” Aubrey said.

  “You know what I mean, Aub,” Bradlee said. “You only live once. If that’s how you feel, go for it. Hunt his hunky ass down and pounce. Get him in your bed, make him happy enough that he’ll never leave.”

  Laura got the ball and even as Aubrey shook off the flush her sister had created with her words, her sister was whooping for her daughter. Rooting her on. Making some noise.

  Aubrey wanted to have something to make some noise over too.

  * * * * *

  She sat on the porch wrapped in an old flannel shirt that she’d stolen from her dad years before and drank wine. A few hours after Laura’s field day had ended, she’d spent hours working on a cover for Checkered Horse. Of course it had featured Mike. That’s whom Gail had shown the most interest in.

  “Who could blame her?” Aubrey had muttered, positioning him just so on the cover. Building the rest of the images and the text around him. Clearly he was the focal point of the cover. Sometimes it was the model, sometimes it was the title. If they were big enough and had enough readers, the author’s n
ame often overshadowed everything else. But with Mike, it was all about him and the way he had of looking right into the camera. Right into a person.

  She’d stared at the image she herself had taken for way too long. The one from the garden. The one where she could smell the scent of suntan lotion and sunshine and him.

  A low, lusty sigh had slipped out of her and though she was alone, she felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment. She was way too tangled up over a guy she’d just met. A guy who lived next door to her, no less. Which could be, probably would be—they all knew it—a recipe for disaster.

  And she was still telling herself that as she sat on her porch and rocked on her swing and took birdy sips of wine to make it last as she pretended not to be waiting for Mike Sykes to come home so she could talk to him for a moment. Know he was okay, know that his son was faring well.

  It was easy to close her eyes and remember their time in the basement. Him on his knees. Him doing that to her…God, making her come. It had been perfect and it had been on the verge of moving forward.

  “You’ve never even had sex with him,” she mumbled, wrapping herself in an old quilt she kept on the swing for cool nights. It was a favorite place for her when the cooler weather came.

  At some point she dozed off. She felt herself going but didn’t worry, given her porch was tucked back from the sidewalk and she was nearly invisible on the swing covered up. Aubrey figured she’d wake up on her own or maybe when Mike arrived.

  It wasn’t lost on her that she was hoping he’d wake her and they’d have some kind of…something. Some kind of connection.

  A car door did wake her a few hours later and she sat up stiff from the chill. It was the teenager across the street, Peter or Paul or something with a P. He’d most likely be grounded for a while given it was…

  She glanced at her watch. Two a.m.

  “No Mike,” she whispered. “And time to get your pathetic self inside.”

  Her whole body was achy and cold from being curled up in a tight ball. The temperature had dropped to at least the forties while she slept.

  Getting old, kid…