Page 10 of Take Two

“Okay, but come up afterwards.” He swings the baseball bat at me like he used to when we were kids. We ended up playing basketball because Mama could not afford the equipment for baseball or hockey. Basketball was the cheaper option, and me and my brother both fell in love with it.

Evan comes out carrying Johnny, and they’re wearing matching outfits. While I help them with their shoes, I hear a loud knock on the door, and Colt goes to open it. Knowing exactly who it is, my heart starts to beat erratically, and I wonder if it’s normal to feel this way. Maybe she was only being nice when she called me handsome. Did I imagine how she looked at me? What about the way she kept inching closer to me? Or the way she touched me or felt in my arms when we hugged? Or am I so desperate for a woman’s attention that I’m seeing things that aren’t there?

That can’t be the case. I’ve taken my time entering the dating scene. I did the work. I’m committed to my sobriety because there’s no way I would be with a woman drunk. I have a business, my family, and a good income. This is the best I’ve ever been in my entire adult life, and now I’m prepared to have a woman in my life. I’m sure I’m ready.

“Hello, Chastains,” I hear her sexy voice say. “Aren’t you boys adorable.” She comes over and runs a hand over Johnny’s head.

“No!” Johnny says. He hugs me tight and sticks his face in my neck.

“Just my usual effect on men,” Violet jokes. My eyes lock with hers, and her smile dips. She clears her throat and looks away, but not before I notice her blush. “And where is the lady of the house?” she asks.

“I’m here,” Vickie says as she comes down the hall in her workout clothes. “Hear me out,” she says to Violet. “I was thinking that instead of working out, you and I can have some snacks—"

“No, ma’am,” Violet says, interrupting her. “You paid for a sixty-minute session, and that’s what you’re getting. Let’s go.”

“Fine, party pooper,” Vickie says while she frowns. “Let’s get it over with then. Are you doing anything after this? It’s Fridaynight, and I have to live through someone since I’m trapped in this thing called marriage now. Don’t be like me, Violet.”

“Like what, darlin’? Blissfully happy?” Colt asks before he kisses her cheek. He takes Johnny from me and tells Evan to follow him. “You’re living the dream, Queen Vee,” he says, using the nickname he calls her. “Now, go keep it tight for your man.” He smacks her behind on his way down the hall. “My queen, my liege,” he yells behind him.

“I’m keeping it tight for myself!” she yells back.

“Sure, you are,” he says.

“You could have it a lot worse, girl,” Violet says, “but as for me, I’m going home after this.” She stops talking and looks around. When her eyes land on me, I wait to hear what she says next. “I’m hoping that my friend will come over.” Her words cause my heart to flutter. I want to take her hand and walk out of here right now. “I wouldn’t say no if he wanted to have dinner with me.”

“Oh, that sounds—” Vickie’s ringing phone stops whatever she was going to say. She excuses herself, picks up the phone, and walks away.

“Your friend would be honored if you let him cook for you,” I whisper. She takes a deep breath and looks up at me. I stop breathing and start praying that I didn’t read this wrong; that I’m actually the friend she’s talking about. Although I don’t like the term friend. I’m not looking for a friend. I’m looking for a woman I can touch, kiss, and make love to.

“My friend should know that if the food he cooks meets the bare minimum of edible, I might not let him leave my apartment ever again.”

“It’s going to be much more than edible,” I promise. She smiles, bites her bottom lip, and looks around the apartment.

“My place. Two hours from now,” she whispers before walking away.

Chapter 6

Violet

Almost exactly two hours later, I hear a knock on my door. It can only be him. Other than some family members, he’s the only person I’ve had over here recently. After rushing home and showering, I put on a pair of denim shorts and a white baby doll top. It’s a warm summer night. I want to be comfortable with a hint of sexiness, and a dash of sluttiness thrownin.

I open the door to him, and he’s standing there, tall as hell and handsome as can be, holding two brown paper bags. It boggles my mind that this man can still be single and walking around the streets of New York City without someone getting their hooks into him yet. Their loss.

“I hope you like salmon,” he says as he walks in. He looks at me, and his steps falter. His eyes travel up and down my body, and I know that outfit has the desired effect I was looking for. “If not,” he adds with a louder than necessary throat clearing, “I can go back out and get chicken if you prefer.”

“I love salmon.” He grins, and his dimples make an appearance. I feel the butterflies in my stomach, and I take a breath to calm myself. This is just dinner. Maybe he’s paying me back for buying the pizza last week. Maybe this is just two friends sharing a meal and nothing more. My heart sinks a little at that thought. I’m not looking for a friend. I’m looking for a man. I’m looking for a relationship that includes deep kisses, nasty sex, and pillow talk. I’m looking for a man I can introduce to my dad. I want a man who likes to do sappy shit like walk through Central Park holding hands.

He goes to the kitchen, puts the bags on the counter, and then surprises me by pulling me into his body. He squeezes me, and I squeeze him back. I look up into his eyes while he looks down at me, and my worries about this being just a friendship dissipate a little bit. I reach up and run my hands through his curly hair as he smiles down at me and bends so his face is closer to mine. I hold my breath and wait to see what he does.

He presses his warm lips on my cheek, and as much as I like the feel of them, I wish he had put his lips to my mouth instead. He moves away much too quickly. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was blushing, but he gives me his back when he starts to pull things out of the shopping bags.

“My kitchen is your kitchen,” I tell him. “Go absolutely crazy.” He looks around before he starts going through my cabinets. He gets a cutting board, knives, and a large bowl. He floats around almost as if he belongs here. For someone so long and tall, he seems to be so lightweight.

He’s casual tonight in a pair of shorts and a dark blue T-shirt that says New York City. While he preps our food, I make us a mocktail. This one is made with ginger ale and fresh strawberries and raspberries. When I hand him his glass, we clink them together.

“You have a real talent for mocktails,” he says. “This is delicious.” As I gaze into his eyes, I bite my bottom lip as I imagine his tongue on mine.

He breaks the stare and turns back to the food on my island. He starts to hum while he cooks, and I get my laptop to look through some emails and work invoices. There are a few inquiries about my services, and I need to figure out if I can take on any more personal clients at this time. I don’t need to. The business has far exceeded my expectations, and in the next couple of years, I’m going to slowly transition to managing the gym—or gyms if it makes sense to open a second location.