Page 16 of Back in the Saddle

“Yeah,” he stated.

“Why aren’t you with Mace and Stella or something?” I asked after a his-generation part of the crew who also lived in Phoenix.

“Because I’m here with you.”

“Did they ask?”

“Yes. But I’m here with you.”

Oh man.

Something weird was happening inside me. I didn’t know what it was. I’d never felt it.

But it felt warm.

And…

Gooey.

Gross!

And…

Shit!

“And I’m not here because I feel sorry for you,” he went on. “I’m here because we both have fucked-up families, and we get it. Today doesn’t have to be about counting our blessings and being grateful our lives are full of love. It can be about food, a funny as fuck movie, then more food and nothing else.” He tipped his gorgeous head to the side. “Now, Jessie, are you down? Or do I have to lug all this shit back to my place?”

My mouth made the decision before my mind did.

It said, “I’m a mixologist, so I can slice fruit like nobody’s business. But other than that, you’re on your own, big guy.”

He seemed to relax even though nothing about him physically gave the indication of relaxation.

Then he ordered, “Get your ass over here.”

I’d dreamed many a dream of him saying something like that to me, just not in this context.

But the life I lived I’d learned.

You took what you could get.

So I got my ass over there.

* * *

We were sittingon stools at my bar, eating the Thanksgiving feast that mostly Eric prepared.

For my part, I was also freaking out.

The thing I was freaking out about was…

Except for when he threw the unopened box of stuffing in my trash, whereupon I snapped, “Dude!” and he shared, “That stuffing is banned in a number of different countries due to the additives in it.”

It was?

“Seriously?” I’d asked.

He nabbed a bag of dried bread cubes, held them up and said, “We’re doing the real thing.”

---