Leaving Normal (29 page)

"How about a 'Thinking of You' theme?"

"That works. What do you have?"

"No flowers?"

"No flowers."

"A teddy bear?"

"No."

"Balloons?"

"Um…yeah. Okay. I like the idea of balloons."

She pointed out the selection of balloons she had. "What colors? I have everything."

"I don't know."

"I think pastels would be nice. Pinks, maybe a little purple."

"Okay."

She began gathering the colors. "Can I ask who these are for, Dad?"

"No." He gazed at his shoes, then at her, then stuffed his hand into his coat pockets.

"Why not? I can tell you're involved with someone you like. I don't mind. Honestly. I'm glad for you, Dad. So who is she?" Her eyebrows lifted, a smile touching her lips as she blew up a small bunch of balloons and tied ribbon on them.

Almost sheepishly, he confessed, "You wouldn't know her."

"No, I doubt I would, but I'm curious."

"Well, it's someone I'm getting to know, and I like her. Nothing you need to be worried about. I won't marry her or anything."

"Dad, I don't care if you get married again. I think you should if that's the direction your heart takes you."

With that, he pondered the balloon bunch, then said, "Put one of those in there, too."

She followed his gaze. "A red heart balloon?"

He flustered, a stain of red working up his neck. "You're right, that would be too much. Never mind."

"No, no…" She blew up the balloon. "I didn't say it would be too much. In fact, I think that's a very cute idea."

She added the red heart to the pastel bunch and handed them to her father. "I think it's perfect."

"You do?"

Kissing his cheek, she said, "I do."

"All right. Thanks, Natalie. I'll pay you for them."

"Don't you dare."

"I'll put the money in the cash register."

There was no point in arguing.

After he left, she wondered who the woman was that had captured her father's attention. She must be very special indeed.

Tony questioned his mom's lack of appetite. "Mom, aren't you going to order anything more than a salad?"

"No, I'm not that hungry." She curled the edges of her napkin, then confessed. "I'm meeting someone for dinner at eight."

"Then why'd you say you'd have dinner with me?"

"You asked."

"You could have told me. I would have eaten by myself."

"Oh, no. I didn't want you to do that."

He'd wondered why she begged off him picking her up, agreeing instead, to meet at the Macaroni Grill. The Italian restaurant was one of his favorites; he'd wanted to bring Natalie tonight, but she'd had to work.

He had a feeling it was more than that, but he didn't push the issue. He'd talk to her about it, though. He took away something from his failed marriage and he realized that communication was key.

He wasn't one of those gamma-phi-beta males—or whatever the hell they were called—a guy who reflected on shit in the shower or anything else overly profound for any length of time. Things happened, he dealt with them. He wasn't a person to dwell. His job cinched that trait for him. He saw things, he processed them, and he moved on. If he didn't, he'd go nuts.

But there was something about Natalie that kept her right at the edges of his mind. He thought about her. A lot. He thought about that kiss he'd given her, the way she'd kissed him back. He knew she'd be a passionate woman. Knew it by the way she wore that black cocktail dress at the Valentine's Day auction. She might come across as refined, a little closed off sometimes but, underneath, there was a woman who possessed a strong inner will and confident sexuality. She may not recognize that about herself, but he did.

"So who was this woman you wanted to have dinner with?" his mom asked him, drawing Tony out of his thoughts.

"My neighbor. She lives across the street."

"That makes things interesting. You don't have to go far to see her."

Tony shrugged. "I would have driven across town to see her if that's the way it worked out."

His mom grew thoughtful, quiet. He could tell something was on her mind and she was working on how to phrase it tactfully.

He helped her along and offered, "Just say it, Mom."

Her brown eyes filled with worry when she spoke. "You've only been divorced for a short time. Don't rush, Tony. I know you weren't happily married with Kim for a while, but you don't want to do anything too soon."

While her words were well intended, he felt slightly put off by her caution, as if he weren't capable of a good decision. "I'm not rushing."

"Good."

"I enjoy her company, though. She's smart, funny, and I like her."

"I can see that." She absently aligned her silverware. "You deserve to be happy."

He got an intuitive thought. "So do you. Who're you having dinner with?"

"Did all the kittens go to good homes?" she asked, disregarding his question for one of her own.

"Yeah, we made sure of that." With a frown, he asked, "So who's the guy?"

She exhaled. "A very nice retired man."

"That's it?"

"That's all there is for now."

"Okay." He decided to let it go. For whatever reasons, his mom was keeping this one under wraps. She'd dated in the past but nothing had gone anywhere. Maybe this time she'd found someone special and wasn't ready to talk about it until she was sure he'd be in her life for a while.

"Just don't go too fast," he cautioned, giving her a grin and a dose of her own advice.

She frowned. "What goes for me is different for you because I'm older and have more experience."

He didn't agree with that rationale but let her continue.

"If you seriously involve yourself with someone too soon after Kim, you might get hurt. I don't want to see you get hurt."

"If I do, I do. Life has no guarantees."

"I know that." A wistful look came over her face and lit into her eyes as if she was thinking she wanted a guarantee.

He thought about the possibilities of getting hurt if he got too close to Natalie. A part of him said not to get attached to her in any kind of way, to get out there, enjoy his freedom being single again. But going to nightclubs or bars and doing bachelor stuff had never been something he was into. Meeting new women on the weekend or having sex just for the night wasn't what he was all about.

The last year of his marriage he had lived a lie. He was sick of it. So a larger part of him wanted to explore something with Natalie. A woman who intrigued him, fascinated, made him want to get to know her better.

Maybe he wouldn't like everything he saw, maybe it wouldn't work out. But he was willing to invest the time to find out.

There was a note on Natalie's garage door when she got home at one in the morning.

She had just punched the opener to lift the door when she noticed a paper on the panel. She hit the button again to make the door come back down. Getting out of her car, she pulled the note off, went back into her car and hit the interior light.

If you aren't too tired, come over whenever you get home. I'll be up. Tony

Natalie gazed at the handwriting once more, noticed it slanted in a bold way, then she pulled into the garage.

Entering her house, she had every intention of ignoring the note, of not going over there. But each time she walked through the kitchen, she stared at the words Tony had written.

Conviction began to melt.

She was bone tired, had worked a seventeen-hour day, but the sight of Tony's note lifted her spirits in ways that confused her. She should have been perfectly fine coming home to her quiet house. No phones ringing, no teenage girls, no one to talk to. Just the way she liked it.

The very fact that Tony wanted to see her, had gone out of his way to invite her over…

Maybe it was time to set the record straight.

The next thing Natalie knew, she was knocking on his front door.

Soft lights cast shadows on the inside. Shivering against the cold, she should have thrown on a coat.

The door opened and Tony, in dark T-shirt and jeans, stepped aside to let her in.

"I got your note," she said, feeling a sudden surge of breathlessness.

She grew vaguely aware she'd forgotten to take off her apron and she noticed her hands were stained with petal and stem pigments.

Usually she was indifferent to how she smelled after work—she was used to the floral perfumes that came in contact with her skin; right now she noticed she smelled pungently like flowers.

"Sit down." Tony steered her to the sofa strewn with throw pillows and an afghan—a sofa that hadn't been here the last time. It was leather, a rich dark brown color. Very soft and very inviting.

It felt wonderful to rest her feet, to take the weight of the day off her legs. She never sat when she arranged, she moved around too much. She leaned her head back and removed her shoes. She wore jeans and a pullover knit top that was pink and had a V-neck. Reaching behind her, she pulled on the ties of her apron, tossed it to the floor beside her shoes.

"I smell," she said, staring at the green stains on her hands.

"You smell good."

"I don't always smell the sweetness, I smell the sap from twigs or the bitterness of greens. What do I smell like to you?"

He knelt in front of her on the floor, situated himself between her legs and put each foot on one of his knees. "Roses."

"I worked with them all night for that wedding tomorrow. I need to be at the church by seven to get everything set up." She exhaled, tried to make her muscles go slack, but it was a battle against a fatigue that held her in its clutches. "I'm so tired."

"Lean your head back."

"No, I can't. I need to tell you something." She resisted brooking an argument, and trying not to think about the fact Tony was right here, touching her legs and within reach of her mouth if she wrapped her arms around him.

'Tell me what?"

She suddenly grew quiet, unable to form the words. This wasn't going to be as easy as she thought.

"What, Natalie?" he coaxed. "You can tell me anything."

She gazed at him and gathered her thoughts enough to speak them. "I like you, Tony. You're smart, good-looking, funny—I enjoy being with you."

"I enjoy being with you, too."

"But we need to have the parameters defined."

"Why did I know you were going to say that?"

"Because I have to be truthful with you." Natalie sat straighten "I only had one child because that's all I can have. I'm not thrilled to tell you I'm going into peri-menopause because of my age, but it's a truth I can't avoid and you have to hear it. My cycle has always been uneven. So even if I wanted to have a baby with you, if it ever came to that, you won't get from me the very thing you want so badly. And I am not blaming you at all for wanting a child. In fact, I'm encouraging you to find someone you can have that bond with."

Tony said nothing for a long while. "That's it?"

Baffled, she questioned, "Isn't that enough?"

"Maybe if you're a scientist and you have an equation for the world's biggest problem. This isn't a problem, Natalie. I just want to spend some time with you. Isn't that okay with you for now?"

"But what about the future? I can't be who you want."

He sort of laughed, but she didn't think anything was very funny. "You know, you women are so intellectual. You analyze this and that to death until you take all the fun out of something. Guys are visual. If we like what we see, we screw all the emotional stuff and just go for it. You told me that." He brushed his fingers across her cheek, his expression softening. "Natalie, right now I like what I see. That should be enough."

Goose bumps rose on her arms. She didn't have a ready answer.

"Sit back," he urged. "Relax. Close your eyes. It's been a long day. Stop thinking about everything."

"But what I told you—"

"I appreciate your honesty," was all he said.

And that was that. No more conversation about it. He nudged her back onto the sofa and she lay there, tense.

"Close your eyes," he said once more. "You are so stressed out."

"I'm not that stressed out."

"You are so lying to me."

Maybe just a little fib.

She gave herself permission to close her eyes. To try and slow down her breathing.

With her eyes closed, she grew more aware of her sense of smell. He filled the room with his scent; he smelled good, intoxicating. Like warmth and wool from the sofa's afghan.

"Did I wake you?" she asked, thinking he must have been lying here sleeping, waiting for her.

"I don't sleep in a deep sleep."

"Still, I woke you." She lowered her chin, opened her eyes. Gazing into his face, she said, "You're tired." But he didn't look tired. He looked great, wonderful. So handsome with his dark features, his rich brown eyes that held her captive. She was tempted to touch his hair, to comb its short length through her fingertips. She refrained, trying to maintain control and composure.

"I'm not that tired. But you are." His arm reached out, and he put a hand on her shoulder, nudged her back into the sofa's soft depths. "Close your eyes."

She didn't want to fight him on this. It felt too good to let the energy of the day drain from her. He took her foot in his hand, massaged the sole of her foot, her heel, the arch.

"Mmm." The grateful sound rose from the back of her throat before she could stop it. What he was doing felt so wonderful. Her body tingled, gooseflesh rose on her skin. "That feels good."

"It's supposed to."

"Mmm."

Natalie let her mind go blank…

Tony watched as Natalie's expression finally relaxed. She finally let go and the slight fists that had been by her side were now open palms, the fingers softly curled and unmoving.

As he massaged her feet, he discovered she didn't relinquish stress easily. A control thing.

She'd tried to take control of his feelings, tell him what he needed and wanted. Maybe part of her thinking was right about them. But he'd challenge it until she could prove otherwise.