Page 9 of Full Body Check

Nowhere near the neighborhood of what I was expecting, yet refreshingly welcomed, a small giggle gets away from me. “Not really, I don’t usually eat this late at night. But if you are-”

“Gracelyn, I’m a professional hockey player; I’m always hungry.” He laughs. “I wasn’t thinking about the time though, sorry. I’ll live.”

Anddd, we’re back to smothering dead air — parked on the side of the road, late at night — both thinking the same thing, both equally afraid to speak of anything even close to those thoughts. I sneak a peek at him, and he chooses that exact moment to turn my way, a timid, endearing grin slowly tipping the corners of his mouth.

“Gracelyn.”

“You know you can call me ‘Gracie’ like everyone else, right?”

“Gracelyn.”

Or not.“Brewer?”

“I’m gonna lay it out, straight up, and hope you find it refreshing… instead of pathetic.” He takes a deep breath, then talk fast through the exhale. “I’m in unfamiliar territory here, and a man, so, I don’t have a damn clue what to, or not to, do or say next. And I really don’t want to fuck, sorry, mess up, so… I’m asking for your help, babe.”

God, he’s sexy. A real-life, steal-your-breath-and-wet-your-panties wonder, who just managed to mold his vulnerable, chivalrous plea into a seductive, manly invitation. Temptation. And I don’t want to resist, or waste another second — that I could be spending in complete surrender, abandoning all but total indulgence, of him — with forcing the “ladylike” innocence I think I should.

Yeah… fuck the rules. Life is far too short, and left wide open for chance that could rob one of what little time they were supposed to have, to worry about all the “rules” society engrains into women. And even if I agreed with them, which I don’t, nor have I ever, tonight… tonight I’m going rogue! I’d have to be the dumbest fool in the whole flock to pass this up — my moment, my miracle, my once-in-a-lifetime, you-wouldn’t-believe-me-if-I-told-you-but-I’ll-never-tell-you secret rendezvous with Brewer freaking Hayes — that nothing, and no one, can ever take from me; the sordid memory I can think back on, and grin to myself. Whenever and as often as I want. For the rest of my life.

Decision made, I, too, ‘lay it out there, straight up’ per his request. “You know the whole ‘I swear, I never do this sort of thing’ speech that some women give, even though they shouldn’t feel like they have to, since men never feel the need to justify the same thing?” He smiles, bright and wide, his dark eyes lightening with mirth, and nods. “Okay, well, takethat spiel, and in my case, is the sad, but absolute truth, then tack on,” I clear my throat, drag a few deep breaths, then let loose what will undoubtedly be, and foreverremain, the single most mortifying utterance of my entire life, “the fact that, up until last week, I was a cat lady; the cat lady, personifying every aspect of the label. Including, but not limited to, my grandma’s rocking chair I inherited, sitting proudly in my living room, and her crocheted afghan still hanging over the back of it. The only reason I finally came to visit Nikki is because Tink, my cat, died. It reallywas her time to go. Poor thing was soold, half-blind, ran into walls,” I stop mid-ramble to squeeze my eyes shut, blocking out a whole new batch of humiliation, having somehow just made my take sound even more pathetic than predicted, but decide I might as well finish, “so yes, in case I didn’t quite cover it, or there’s any confusion, my cat died. Thus, ending my bout of being a cat lady, literally.” I try to play it off with dry wit, then try harder to pretend it may have worked. “My parents moved to a swanky retirement community by the ocean a while back, and I’m an only child, so, other than my students — oh, I’m a third-grade teacher by the way — Tink was all I really had that was mine in my everyday life, if that makes sense,” I laugh at myself, a release of nerves more than anything… and keep right on rambling. “Being single is hard, like, really, really hard. Dating just isn’t what it used to be; with all the new technology and websites there are now, no one actually meets a person anywhere, talks face-to-face, feels a connection, goes to a movie, or whatever. And I live in a pretty small town, so I did try to date, and immediately vetoed, any single, halfway decent guys I could see and interact with, a long time ago.”

And now, I’m done, having babbled out more than enough of my woes. I take a huge breath and slowly pry my eyes open to gauge his reaction… if he’s even still there. I wouldn’t blame him if he quietly made a run for it somewhere around afghan! He’s there simply staring at me, a certain glimmer in hiseyes that might just fool a girl into believing he finds her nonsensical soliloquy interesting if she let it.

After what seems like forever, and in the baritone of pure scandal, he smiles and asks for more. “Go on.”

Either he’s a glutton, as lonely as I am, has a very skewed opinion on what’s interesting… or all of the above.

“Too late for this, I realize, but… long story short?” I sigh. “I haven’t had sex in three years. Three. I want to. Now. And not because you’re a hockey star; I’ve been to two games in my life — both yours — so clearly that’s not the deal maker for me. I want to have sex with you because… your wink, smirk, picking me out of a crowd, hunting me down, sending the definitely forward note” — we both laugh lightly — “all of it. I felt pursued, special, more excited than I have about anything in a very long time. And it doesn’t hurt that you are, without a doubt, the sexiest man I’ve ever seen in my life, better outside the rink than in. I want to feel the weight, the power, of your big strong body on top of me. Under me. Overwhelming me. And I’m not gonna apologize for it.”

There, I said it. Out loud. Which, honestly, felt pretty damn good. To at last, for once, cast aside any and all ridiculous rules, stigmas, double-standards or fears… and just go for it. Not that I have any plans of getting used to it, or making it a habit, but just this once… yeah, I’m allowing myself some freedom.

And, I’d probably feel even better about my decision if he’d respond. Reassure me. Laugh. Cough. Sneeze. At this point, I’ll take anything… but he gives nothing.

Not a peep.

In complete silence, he shifts in his seat and starts the truck, pulling away from the curb and onto the main street, all while continuing to give me nada. I’m guessing it’s because he’s too focused on backtracking to Nikki’s, to drop my jabbering, harlot ass right back where he found me.

And if that’s the case, so be it. I’ll climb out of this truck with my head held high and proud, of myself, for taking a chance, a bold, brave shot at what I want.

I’m so okay with my actions, in fact, that I’ve already justified them into a perfectly acceptable mental package — this whole night will, going forward, be thought of like a job interview. Yep. You don’t beat yourself up if you don’t get the job; you praise yourself for at least trying, and chalk it up as a good learning experience. This is exactly like that… I bravely interviewed. Just because it happened to be for the position of a stranger’s sex buddy for the night takes nothing away from my sound reasoning.

“I’m sorry about your cat.”

Had I been given a million guesses as to what he’d say next, that wouldn’t have been one of them. My head snaps left, in utter bafflement, and of its own shocked volition, full-body laughter bursts out of me.

“What’s so funny? I am sorry. I can tell you really loved your cat and losing it broke your sweet little heart. That breaks my heart for you.” He reaches over and finds my hand, giving it a squeeze.

“It did, yes, and thank you. I just, I wasn’t expecting that to be the part you focused on is all. Thought for sure my blatant proposition would be what snagged your attention.”

“Oh, it did, and I’ll be taking you up on that, repeatedly, as soon as we get to my house. But offering my condolences seemed like the least I could do, considering.”

“Considering what?”

He waits until we catch a red light to answer, looking at me, sporting a disarming grin, and answers. “Gracelyn, if I’m not into you enough to feel bad that you lost your little kitty buddy, then I’ve got no right to do to you all the things I’m about to.”

He winks… and drives.

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