PosterBoyForAverage (3 page)

Aubrey downloaded the pictures from her digital camera to
her computer. The Mr. Stripey tomatoes were quite fetching. Fetching enough
that she considered putting them in her digital online photo gallery for people
to buy. When she got to the pictures of Mike, his face half-lit by soft
interior light, the dark night accenting the shadowed silhouette of him, she
swallowed hard. He was beyond handsome in that shot. He was beautiful. Looking
very much like some nighttime predator.

That was the thing about him that truly captured her. That
gentle aggression she’d talked about. His look could shift on a dime. She liked
that about a person. The malleability of expression that indicated the
malleability of their nature.

Could he be as rough as he seemed gentle? A small warmth
spread from her belly to the spot between her legs. There her heart seemed to
beat harder than in her chest.

“Whoa, girl. You don’t need any complications.”

Her mind was having none of it though. It kept revisiting
the way he’d casually reached out and snagged her wrist in his hand. The way
his skin had felt against hers. The sound of his voice when he’d simply said,
“Thanks.”

Aubrey groaned and reached for the mouse to click through to
the next image. But there were no more images after that. She’d forgotten. And
she found herself lingering on the image of his face. Her pulse rabbiting a
little when she let herself imagine him turning her wrist over and placing a
kiss there.

She convinced herself she wouldn’t do it right up to the
moment that she did do it. Arching back in the chair, the cool October air
drifting into her bedroom through the cracked window. It was Saturday so the
neighborhood was quiet. People sleeping in. Summer yard chores done for the
year for the most part.

Was she really going to do this? Her fingers slipped down
inside her panties, found her clit, which reacted with a zing of pleasure. She
sighed and pushed a little harder, building to eager circles of her finger on
that knot of flesh.

“Yes,” she said aloud. “Yes, you are going to do this.”

Despite her photographic dalliances she’d not slept with any
of her young, handsome subjects this summer. Not a one. Aubrey hadn’t felt
ready. Beyond that, she hadn’t felt that connection she liked to feel. That
startling electric something she liked to experience right before an exciting,
spontaneous night in bed with a man.

Her fingers parted her pussy lips and then she was back at
her clit again. Teasing herself to a tight brink before backing off, plunging a
finger deep inside. Hooking it so that she brushed her G-spot and that warm,
slow pleasure spread through her pelvis. Aubrey bit her lip, cutting off her
sound. She opened her eyes, stared at the image of him half-lit in the
nighttime.

Half-angel, half-demon, all handsome.

She plunged her finger deep again. Added a second. Slowly
fucking herself as she watched his unchanging face.

Her mind, a slick and dangerous thing, supplied her a vivid
snapshot of one Mike Sykes on his knees. His mouth on her. His eyes shut,
showing dark lashes against tan cheeks as he licked her. She returned her attention
to her clit again with cunt-slicked fingers. Her hips shot up eagerly and she
shut her eyes, surrendering to the image she now had locked in her mind’s eye.

He’d pause to glance up at her as he licked her, ate her—devoured
her. Surely he would. Aubrey knew it. So in her mental image, Mike opened his
intensely blue eyes and he sucked hard, drawing on her sex so she felt the
pressure like a crushing wave.

She pushed a little harder, aggressively pursuing the orgasm
that seemed to hover within reach. Her hips jerked up again and she imagined
him using the rigid tip of his tongue to tease her, to nudge her until…

“Oh fuck,” she gasped. The sudden flexing release shivered
through her. Her body bowed again at the force of her pleasure as the image of
him there—on his knees, face buried between her legs—didn’t diminish, but
became more vivid.

Aubrey let her head fall back and her body go limp. In her
little mental movie, Mike stood, grinned at her and reached for his belt
buckle. It was a silver buckle on a black leather belt. As he tugged the belt
and it slowly slid from each of his belt loops, his grin became more knowing.
Almost sinister but not quite.

Deep inside another small spasm rocked her and her nipples
spiked hard under her threadbare sleep t-shirt.

Then the phone rang and she let out a small shriek. As if
someone had caught her.

“Well, why do you sound so very out of breath?”

Aubrey’s cheeks blazed with heat. Good thing her sister
couldn’t see her, or she’d be confessing. “What do you mean?” Best to play
dumb.

“Mom said you were coming home from the lake last night.”

“I did.” She minimized the picture file so she’d stop
staring obsessively at Mike’s profile on film.

“So why do you sound like you’re huffing your bags inside
now? Or were you…were you having sex, sister?” Bradlee hissed.

“No! Why do you have such a dirty mind?”

“Because Tim’s been deployed for four months and for four
months my vagina’s been a barren wasteland.”

“TMI! TMI!” Aubrey yelped.

Bradlee just snickered. “Look, munchkin and I were going to
stop in and give you some produce. We’re surrounded by people who are wannabe
farmers and since Tim’s gone they all want to feed us. Which is super nice but
I am overrun by cucumbers and watermelon and squash. I figured since you’re
just in your fridge probably looks like something out of a science lab, so I’d
bring you something healthy. Plus it’s Sunday and I need to do something. Maybe
you can make me an inappropriately early cocktail when I get there.”

Aubrey shook her head. “I could be persuaded,” she laughed.
“What time?”

“Say one-ish?”

“One-ish is good. I’m just getting some work done between
now and then. I have a few book covers that need to be worked on.”

“Did you photograph oodles of gorgeous hunks this summer?”

“I did.”

“Did you, um…”

“I did not,” Aubrey said.

“Damn. You could have hesitated just a bit. Just to let me
have my fantasy for a moment.”

“Have your own fantasy! Don’t involve me.”

“Prude,” Bradlee snorted. “Later, baby sister.”

She hung up.

Aubrey hopped into a steaming-hot shower, got herself
together and worked on the cover for
Love’s Long, Lonely Road
until the
doorbell rang at one. Then she hurried downstairs, eager to see her sister and
her niece Laura.

They appeared to have brought an entire produce wagon with
them.

“I’m only one person! I can’t eat all this,” Aubrey said,
taking an overflowing basket of garden goods while they followed her to the
kitchen with more.

“Oh, you can give some to that handsome stud next door.”
Bradlee had a wicked look in her eye when she said it and Laura giggled at her
mother’s waggling eyebrows.

“How do you know about—”

“I’m magic. I have spies everywhere.”

“But—”

Laura rolled her eyes. “Aunt Aubrey. We’ve been coming by to
water your plants and check the house every few weeks. We met Mr. Mike.”

“Oh,” Aubrey said. “Oh.”

Brilliant.

Bradlee nudged Laura with her elbow. “Way to give away trade
secrets, kiddo.”

“Sorry.”

“Go see if that lemon tree is any bigger.”

“Lemon tree?” Aubrey said. “What lemon tree?”

“The one we planted the week you left,” Bradlee said. “It’s
an experiment.”

“For what? To see if you can attract every bee in a three-hundred-mile
radius to my yard?”

“Relax,” Bradlee said. “We literally planted a seed. It
won’t be a tree for ages.”

Aubrey gaped at her. “That makes it better?”

Laura grew very serious. “Aunt Aubrey, you want all those
bees. They fear they’re going extinct. So pollination is important. You want to
attract them so you can keep your Mr. Stripey tomatoes coming up. And your
jalapenos. And your other stuff.”

And then she was gone.

“Damn,” Aubrey said. “How’d she get so smart?”

“School,” Bradlee said, unpacking vegetables. “Go figure.”

They put the rest of the stuff away and then heard Laura’s
voice outside. The two women hurried out to find her laughing at the fence with
two young boys. One appeared to be roughly her age, the other a bit younger.
The younger one had an oxygen tank on wheels, the cannula snaking up his tanned
face and disappearing in his nostrils.

“Hey, guys!” Laura waved. “This is Joshua and this is
Chuck.” She pointed as she spoke. “That’s my mom, Bradlee. Not spelled like the
boy’s name, BTW. And that’s my aunt Aubrey. She lives here.”

The two boys waved and Aubrey and Bradlee waved back. Aubrey
leaned in. “When did your ten-year-old become Julie from
The Love Boat
?
What was she, the events person?”

“Activities director,” Bradlee corrected. “We watched enough
reruns—you should know that, Aub.”

“Sorry. But really. When did she?”

“Over the summer. She’s done a lot of growing up.”

“I’m dying,” Aubrey said, watching her niece wave to Mike,
who was coming out of his house.

He was in gray athletic shorts and a white t-shirt. The shirt
showed off his tan and his muscles. Her heart kicked hard in her chest as she
remembered their very intimate moment a few hours earlier. A very intimate
moment he was utterly unaware of.

“You’re dying? Imagine how her father’s going to feel when
he gets back to a tween with butterfly social skills.”

Laura was waving them over. Mike was looking up and smiling.
Aubrey felt that smile in her stomach and unfortunately, inappropriately lower
too. “Come over,” Laura called. “I have a great idea.”

“Uh-oh,” Aubrey and Bradlee said almost in unison.

It was sort of surreal at first. Like a comedy skit they all
knew, but hadn’t been given the script for.

“Aubrey,” Mike nodded. When he smiled it crinkled the edges
of his eyes just a bit and she remembered, again, the feel of him gripping her
wrist. It must have shown on her face because Bradlee gave a strangled cry and
elbowed her.

“Mike” Aubrey said. “This is Bradlee.”

“We’ve met,” Bradlee said. She nodded politely. “Mike.”

“Bradlee,” Mike said. He smiled again, seemingly amused.

“And this is Joshua,” Laura said, flourishing like Vanna
White.

What. The. Fuck?

“Joshua,” Bradlee and Aubrey said in unison.

He broke the weirdness by just saying, “Hi.”

“I’m Chuck,” Chuck said, finally breaking the spell. He
stuck out his small hand and the two women shook.

Something in Aubrey’s heart shivered at this kid. He was not
just adorable—he seemed to radiate his dad’s kindness and then some.

“So about my idea,” Laura said.

Aubrey swallowed a groan.

“What’s that, munchkin?” Bradlee said. She said it casually,
but she also had fear in her eyes. Aubrey could see it and it nearly made her
laugh.

“Mom,” Laura hissed. “You’re not supposed to call me that in
public.”

Mike chuckled and Aubrey found it made her like him even
more.

“Sorry,” Bradlee said. “What’s that, Laura?”

“A cookout!”

“I…um…” Aubrey stammered.

Laura went on. “Mike has—”

Bradlee cut Laura off. “Mr. Mike.”

“Mr. Mike has a grill and as you can see, he’s cut his yard
recently.” Another flourish.

“So?” Aubrey said.

“So he has a grill and we have a ton of fruits and veggies.”

Mike said, “I think I overheard Joshua confessing to having
a lot of burgers and hot dogs over here.”

“And soda and beer,” Joshua cut in.

Aubrey ran a hand through her hair. This was like an episode
of
The Brady Bunch
. All she needed was for one of the kids to say “Marcia,
Marcia, Marcia” and it would be a complete scenario.

“And I say cookout!” Laura said.

The boys nodded and Chuck broke in, with a bit of a gasp,
“We have cornholing.”

Bradlee coughed. “You have what?”

“Cornholing,” Mike said, managing to keep a straight face.
“That game where you toss the bean bags toward boards with holes in them and
depending where it lands you get points.”

“Oh. Beanbag toss?” Bradlee said.

“Cornholing,” Chuck corrected. “That’s what it’s called.”

This time none of the adults managed to not laugh.

Aubrey shrugged.
What the hell. If you get off to mental
images of a man in the privacy of your own bedroom, the least you can do is get
suckered into a good old-fashioned official beginning of fall cookout with him
later, right?

“Right,” she said aloud.

* * * * *

Things went as well as things like that go. It felt odd to
Aubrey to be standing in the yard next to her yard. The only thing she
associated with the Crandalls’ yard was Mr. Crandall standing out there in his
boxers watering his azaleas. Now it was neat and full of kids’ toys. Two bikes,
scooters, balls, a bat. Chuck and Joshua took great care showing Laura where
the pool would be next year. Bruce galloped along behind all of them, enjoying
his new young companions.

“Dad says it’s already too cool to put one up this year. But
next year for sure.” Every once in a while Chuck would take a deep gasping
breath and Aubrey could see it hurt Mike’s heart when he did. Which hurt
her
heart.

“You’re getting attached,” Bradlee whispered.

“I am not.”

“You are.” She poured the other half of a hard lemonade into
Aubrey’s cup and pressed her shoulder to her sister’s. “You smile at his
children. You glance at him when his back is turned, watching how he moves and
how he maneuvers in his domain. You have just a hint of concern and pain when
he shows concern and pain.”

“He’s just a nice guy, “Aubrey said. “I’m not the kind of
person who does well with relationships. I’ve figured this out. I think I just
like a bedmate from time to time. Maybe someone to go to the movies with.”

“Right,” Bradlee said.

The two women watched Mike helping Laura take some practice
swings while Joshua tossed a baseball from hand to hand. Then Mike stood and
leveled a finger at his eldest son. “Throw like a gentleman. She just said
she’s never done this. Throw nice practice lobs.”

“Right, Dad,” Joshua said and nodded.

“See how he is with kids?” Bradlee whispered. Aubrey was
starting to think that her sister was the snake in the garden. Whispering
things to her she didn’t want to hear. Opening her eyes to things she didn’t
want to see.

“Shut up, Bradlee.”

Bradlee laughed. They’d chatted with Mike about how the boys
were doing in school, how he roofed on windy days and how the house was
treating him. And when it was time for the boys to go, Aubrey was ashamed to
find that the two of them peeked around the side of the house to try to get a
glimpse at the former Mrs. Sykes. Laura had walked up with Mike to say goodbye
to the boys.

“You know we can grill her when she gets back,” Bradlee
said.

“That’s your daughter!” Aubrey said.

“I know. She’s very observant.”

“I meant you shouldn’t pull a kid into this.” The interior
light in the SUV lit up and Aubrey could see a cap of blonde hair. Platinum to
her honey. It was too far to see her eyes. But not too far to see that she was
thin and built nicely and when she smiled at the boys and laughed, she didn’t
seem like an asshole.

“Damn,” Bradlee said as the woman reached out to shake hands
with Laura.

“What?”

“I really wanted to hate her.”

Aubrey snorted. “Me too.”

When the former Mrs. Sykes pulled away and Mike and Laura
turned to the house, the sisters practically fell over each other.

“Christ, that went well,” Aubrey panted, finding another
hard lemonade. She waved it at Bradlee, who shook her head.

“I have to drive.”

And then in a blink it was time for her security blanket to
go. Bradlee kissed her on the cheek and then Mike. Laura doled out hugs. And
Aubrey looked up at the fat white moon, thinking she should go.

“I should go,” she said.

“You could.” He sat in an old aluminum lawn chair. The kind
her grandparents had had. He pushed the twin to his chair out with his foot and
said, “Or you could sit here and finish that drink you’re holding.”

“I really should go,” she said even as she dropped into the
chair and stretched out her legs.

“That was fun,” he said. He slid down in his chair and tilted
his head back. He’d shut his eyes, so it gave Aubrey a chance to study him. His
profile was just as strong and handsome in person as it was on film. His body
language expressed relaxation. It made her happy that he felt he could let his
guard down around her.

“It was. Kids, right? Laura’s a sharp cookie. To mix
metaphors, there’s no moss growing on her.”

“That’s a really mixed bag of metaphors.” Mike smiled but
kept his eyes closed.

“Whatever floats your boat,” Aubrey tossed one more in. When
he cracked a single eye to glare at her she couldn’t help it. She snorted with
laughter.

“Thanks for coming,” he said. “The boys were bored. Doesn’t
it amaze you how kids can have a billion dollars’ worth of stuff to amuse them
and still get bored?”

“I only know it from part-time, but yes.” She felt herself
relaxing. She needed to remember that he was just a neighbor. Just a new
friend. Just someone she was throwing some work to because he was handsome and
built and would be perfect for some of her covers.

Nothing more.

“Thanks for having me,” she added.

“I loved having you,” Mike said.

Her mind jumped back to her vivid waking wet dream. Him on
his knees, his mouth on her, the way he made her come. A small strangled sound
slipped free of her and Aubrey shoved a fist to her lips. Too late.

“What was that?” he asked. She could hear that he was
smiling. How odd was that?

“Nothing.”

“Sounded like something. Won’t you confess to me, Aubrey?
Tell me all your secrets?” He gave a soft chuckle. “I feel like I’ve bared my
soul to you. Filleted myself, even.”

“Nothing to bear or fillet,” she lied. “I’m a very boring
person.”

His foot came up to bump the underside of her chair. It was
as if he’d goosed her. She let out a startled little gasp that made him laugh
even harder. “You’re far from boring. Very far from it.”

When she’d finally said good night for real and stood from
her chair, her knees were a bit shaky, her stomach quaky and the pulse that
beat between her thighs was all she could focus on. Ever the gentleman, he got
up to walk her out.

Just as she headed for the gate, his hand reached out in the
dark to snag her wrist again. Her pulse jumped like she’d been struck by
lightning. Fuck, it felt as if she had been. He pulled her in and stared down
at her. His eyes were silver in the moonlight.

He’d make a killer werewolf on a cover. The thought flitted
through her mind wildly like a panicky bat in the night sky.

“Thanks for making me a hero,” he said.

“Hero?” Aubrey echoed. Confused.

“Yeah. The pool.”

“Oh the poo—” That was as far as she got before his lips
touched hers very briefly. Barely a kiss. But enough of a kiss to stop her
heart. She was a dead woman. Dying. She had no more pulse, she…

“It was nice to tell them that news, Aubrey.” He kissed her
forehead once and then took a step back from her. “And really nice getting to
know you more tonight.”

“You too,” she squeaked.

Then she dragged herself home, Bruce on her heels. Inside
the house she knew for a fact she’d have Mike Sykes-soaked dreams. She looked
down at Bruce as she climbed into bed. He didn’t wait for an invitation but
jumped up to snuggle next to her.

“Why’d he have to go and kiss me, Bruce?” she asked,
sighing.

Bruce didn’t have an answer. But he did have his own set of
big, wet, sloppy kisses for her. Aubrey finally fell asleep with the fat
harvest moon painting white-and-silver discs of light on her bedspread.