The Girl He Knows (16 page)

I dash off to get my shoes and put them on in the living room, afraid to leave him alone with Nana for fear she might bring up the shagging business again. Hopefully, I’ve been able to hide our recent...indiscretion. Could Hank? And from my all-knowing, all-seeing granny?

Hank drives and for a moment I’m lost in time. As if I’m sixteen again and, like I’ve done a million times before, I’m going to the lake with Hank. Except this time it’s a date. I try not to fidget or chew my thumbnail. I want him to find me interesting but can’t find any intriguing topics, everything suddenly sounds stupid or frivolous. So I let him make the small talk and listen as he compares what it was like living in Japan.

We start out with a comfortable stroll. The afternoon is still sweltering but hints at relief with the fading sun. Late June isn’t known for its breezy evenings, it’s known for its daily rain, which came earlier today and helped cool the earth a degree or two.

“I haven’t been here in years.” Hank drops a casual arm around my shoulders.

“Me either. I used to come here with Sarah Grace and walk the twins when they were younger. Seems like an eternity.” Life seemed much simpler when I was making those trips home from college. I was young, dumber, and in love with Trevor.

Sometimes I wish I had a magic wand and could go into the past and try my life over again by choosing a different path. Would I have married someone else, or still be single?

“I remember you and Gigi coming here. Poppy used to send me out looking for you two all the time. Drove me nuts. If I couldn’t find you two hanging out at McDonald’s, I came here.” He chuckles at the memory.

My thoughts go to that day in the past, when he came here to tell me my dad had been in an accident.

Gigi and I watched his old truck come barreling toward us and were caught off guard when he came to a stop with half his truck still in the traffic lane, half on the grass.

I could tell by his ashen face something was wrong. When he turned watery eyes to me, I almost fell to my knees. Hank ran to me, scooped me up, and carried me to his truck.

I don’t remember the ride home, only pleading with God to let my dad be OK. I remember tears of fear running madly down my face and not being able to catch my breath. I remember walking in my house and knowing my prayers had not been answered.

It wasn’t until I lay in bed, Gigi zonked out beside me and Hank sleeping on the floor, that it hit me. I rolled over on my stomach and looked toward the floor where he slept. Only he was awake.

He reached up and took my hand. I was comforted by his touch and desperate to be held. I slid from my bed and lay next to him as he wrapped his arms around me and held me. It was then I wailed for my father.

Remembering makes me tear up. I would have never gotten through the days following my father’s death had it not been for Gigi and Hank.

I face him. He tightens his arm around me, his expression soft. He remembers too, and I wrap my arms around his neck as we continue to walk, me backward. I’ve shared lots of memories with this guy. My mind rolls over the time we’ve spent together since I woke up next to him in Gigi’s bed. I have to be honest. It was inevitable we would get together, since we share so much. We did flirt a lot in high school. There’s no point denying everything, anything, anymore. Knowing I want to be here with him more than anywhere else is telling. Maybe this isn’t as harmless as I think. Maybe he doesn’t think so either?

The moment wraps around us, binding us together with a firm knot.

“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.” He returns the hug and brushes a kiss on the top of my head.

“It was a fine idea. I never thanked you for that night, Hank.”

“You never have to either.”

I smile up at him as the pain of the memory eases. “Fine. I won’t feel compelled to buy the ice cream today.” I flick my head, swinging my ponytail in his face.

He gives it a playful yank, spins me around, and gives me a push in the back, sending me stumbling forward.

Some things never change.

I catch my balance and laugh. Then I stick out my tongue, before I take off at a run.

“Hey,” he yells, footsteps slapping behind me.

I pick up my pace. Glancing over my shoulder, I gauge how much of a lead I have. When I look forward again, I notice the sidewalk has a raised corner. But it’s too late. One minute I’m running and the next my toe catches and in a ball of limbs and hair I go ass over teakettle. I land, thankfully, in the grass, on my back, my arms spread wide beside me.

“Jeez, Paisley, you OK?” He leans over me.

I’m too busy wheezing to answer him. All this air around me and I can’t seem to get any of it. I gasp, wheeze some more and manage to nod my head. I stay on the ground for a few more minutes and once Hank is assured I’m fine, he moves out of my line of vision.

When I manage to sit up, I look for him. He’s standing about fifteen feet away with his back to me, his shoulders shaking. He’s working hard at holding in his laughter.

“You think it’s funny.” I ease myself off the ground.

Laughter erupts from him. He turns once, sets his eyes on me, starts laughing uncontrollably, and has to turn away.

“All right. Ha-ha. It isn’t that funny.” Apparently, it is, because now he’s bent over with his hands on his thighs, overcome with hilarity. His backside, the only portion of him facing me, presents quite the opportunity and the urge is impossible to resist. Maybe it’s because I’m embarrassed or being spiteful, because I walk over to where he’s still bent over, wheezing from laughter and, using the right amount of force and my foot, I push him forward. Face-first.

He goes sprawling onto the grass.

I burst out in laughter.

“It’s funny now.” I call to him as he rolls onto his back. The look in his eyes tells me I have a few seconds head start. I stop laughing and take off running. Not jogging. Not a sprint. A true dart for my life.

His breath is on my neck and his presence looms over me, yet I can’t make my legs go any faster. He swoops, then lunges and tackles me at the waist. We both catch air and go rolling, part on the grass and part on the pavement.

I scrape my knee, but manage to flip to my side so as not to belly flop onto the ground. Together we skid on the grass and come to a stop near the water.

Both laughing, we roll onto our backs, my head pinning his arm beneath me.

“Man, you can run fast.” He pants.

“It’s my long legs.” I hold them up for inspection. Blood trickles off my right knee.

“You OK?” He points to my knee.

“Yep. You?

“Yep. Truce?”

“Truce.” I hold up my hand and lift my head so he can pull his arm out from under me. He takes my hand in his and we shake. We lie there panting, catching our breath, and I’m reminded of our hot nights of sex, very similar to this moment, only without clothes and spectators. I must have turned red because Hank chuckles beside me and tells me he’s thinking the same thing.

“Come on. Let’s go get some ice cream.” He sits up and pulls me with him. We’re only halfway around the lake, his truck is on the other side, and I’m ready for the ice cream now.

“Go ahead and get the truck. I’ll wait here on this bench,” I tell him, trying to milk the situation, and hobble toward the bench.

“Oh no, you don’t. Here, climb on.” He gives me his back and I jump on. I haven’t had a piggyback ride in years.

We don’t make it very far before he whines, “Mercy girl.”

I slide off him and swat at his arm. We laugh and link hands. I don’t care. I don’t care if people see us or what they might say. It’s as if I’m living on the edge. It’s been a good day, minus Sarah Grace’s tantrum and the vomiting on me, and since Hank offers to buy the ice cream, I decide to get the largest one they offer with my favorite toppings.

We drive to a different lake with ducks and benches and pig out as we watch day give way to evening. I lick the last of the butterscotch syrup off my spoon and think about what Nana said about me “shagging” some guys. Hank is sitting close, our legs touch, pulled together by a force bigger than I can comprehend. I’m overcome with a hard to define need. It’s strong and simple and will only be fed by being with him. I throw my spoon, cup, and napkins in the trash and come back to stand in front of him.

I guess he feels it too because he reaches out and places his hands on my hips and pulls me toward him. Energy twists off us in a frenzy, and I expect the air surrounding us to pop and snap. He pulls me across his lap and nestles me in the crook of his arm, snuggling me in close.

“No sex,” he whispers. “Just a date.”

Though we sit in the shadows, the fading light allows us to look into each other’s eyes. His stare rivets me. He leans in and kisses me on the nose.

“
An toir thu dhomh pòg
?” His voice is husky. I do as he requests and press my lips to his, all my sense goes in the garbage can with my discarded spoon and cup.

He holds the kiss before slowly moving away.

“Thanks for coming out with me tonight,” he says.

“Thanks for asking me.”

I’m certain he feels the pull like I do, and I know we’re about to have sex. I’m OK knowing every time we get together we end up in bed. It’s simple; I want to be with him. Besides, even my grandmother gave me permission to do it.

Yet nothing happens. We sit here. I’m jittery with need but too afraid to make the first move. Hank shifts on the bench and leans back, his arm still around me, the space between us a little wider.

“Um... I thought maybe....” I begin.

“I don’t think we should,” he tells me. “To be honest, I’m having a hard time sleeping with you and knowing when I leave, you go on dates.”

“I’ve been on two dates and one was set up before anything happened between us,” I say. I have the need to explain.

“And you have another one planned?”

“Yes, but I’m not going to sleep with him. It’s just a date. A way for me to get back into the thick of it.” I try to explain but it seems to come out wrong. “There’s no place I’d rather be right now than here with you. This, right here, right now is fantastic.” And I mean it. Spending the afternoon with him was easy and fun.

“You’re a cheap date. Ice cream and a park bench.” I hear the smile in his voice.

I lean my head on his shoulder. “This is nice,” I tell him as I try to keep my thoughts from going to naughty places. Sitting next to him fills me with a sense of femininity I’ve never experienced before. He’s solid and warm and I want to burrow into his side and breathe him in.

“Hank?” I whisper, my voice hoarse.

“Please, Paisley, I’m working superhard at restraining myself. I’m trying to show you we can get together without having sex.” He looks away, toward the lake, and strokes my shoulder with his thumb.

I look around, not a car in sight. It’s dark and trees seclude us.

“To hell with that.” I shift to straddle him. Sure, it’s a good idea being together without falling into bed, but I need him to need me.

He pulls me toward him and burns me to my center with a kiss, one with such intense heat I’m surprised it doesn’t disintegrate my clothes. I reach for the button on his pants.

“No.” He grabs my hands and looks at me.

“Yes,” I say.

“No.” He stands and pushes me off his lap.

“Come on. I’ll take you home.” He grabs my hand and pulls me toward his truck.

“Hank,” I cry with frustration and tug my hand back.

He turns to face me and throws his hands in the air. “What do you want from me? Sex? We can’t even go on a simple date. Jeez, I can’t believe I’m saying this.” He runs his hand through his hair before stuffing it in his pocket.

“Maybe we could try another date,” I suggest. My heart flutters with the anticipation of a second date. The weight of time hangs between us as I wait for him to decide if he wants to be with me again.

“You know, I’ve heard of worse ideas,” he answers. He links his fingers with mine and walks me to his truck.

Now I see the line we aren’t supposed to cross and, of course, I think I’m straddling it, with a tenuous toehold on both sides.

I’m tempted to cancel my date with Jake. It doesn’t feel right anymore after last weekend with Hank, but I push forward because that’s the plan, dammit. Besides, I hate canceling on people unless I have a good reason. If I made something up, I’d stammer through the lie.

Jake picks me up around noon with a picnic basket in tow and drives to the airfield where he houses his plane. I’m shocked to find out he owns a small plane and flies, by himself, to various places. Like Brinn.

I relax and let the good time happen. We fly across the state to Cedar Key, where we devour our picnic lunch and walk the small, eclectic tourist town. It’s a pleasant day, an enjoyable date with an easy vibe. As we fly home, he suggests getting takeout and watching a movie. I agree without a second’s hesitation. If Jake’s a player, he’s very smooth. He hasn’t even touched me today. I guess I’m expecting some old cliché in his conversation or premature claims of undying love, even someone like pilot Ted and his creepy innuendos. Jake is different. He’s funny, proper, and attentive.

We pick up beer, Chinese food, and I make popcorn before we settle in to a scary movie. My personal favorites are the gory flicks. I like to scare people afterward, especially Sarah Grace, who is super-susceptible to after-movie mind games.

Jake props his feet up on my coffee table as he pulls me close. I fidget, trying to get comfortable and relax but the ease I experienced earlier is gone and there’s something about Jake that makes me uncertain. Maybe it’s because we barely know each other and this is the awkwardness that comes with the early stages of dating.

I tuck my feet up under me so I’m not sitting snuggled in his arm. I like the way he smells, a bit like the sun and a whole lot like sin, sort of a musky, coconut, manly smell. It’s so different from Hank who smells like the out of doors, kind of like evergreens, cedar, and with a hint of citrus. I mentally berate myself as I try not to think about Hank but move back a tad anyway.