Page 11 of At Last

I don’t do one-night stands. Especially not in my house. In the middle of the day. Between cornbread and chili preparation. And not with a scary biker who has shown his sweet side in recent days but didn’t like me until my daughter went to the hospital, and has probably had more women in the past month than I’ve had men in my entire life.

Considering all this, I push him off. “Cornbread,” I say lamely.

He laughs. Shaking his head, he touches my nose as if teasing a small child, then turns to grab the potholders I have hanging from a magnetized hook on the refrigerator. Pulling the sizzling hot skillet from the oven, he then places the golden-brown goodness on one of the back burners to cool while I right myself.

For the next twenty minutes, he prepares chili. Dicing condiments like raw onion and avocado. He opens a package of shredded sharp cheddar cheese and a bag of corn chips. He does all this while ignoring the fact that with a kiss, the man knocked my world off kilter.

How could I go back to my life before he touched me when my body is still fizzing from his touch? And that’s without coming. The man is dangerous. I assumed old age would be the death of me. Who would have thought life as I’d known it would end with a kiss? From Duke Ellis, of all people.

He doesn’t announce it, but I know the chili is done when he opens the cupboard to take a couple of bowls out. So while he ladles up a heaping mass of beans, meat, and tomato sauciness for each of us, I jump from the counter and walk to the fridge where I grab us each another cold brew, twisting off the caps. I toss them in the trashcan next to the pantry and hand his off. I lean my hip against the edge of the counter and watch him sprinkle cheese and onions on top of one of the bowls. “That’s for you, right?”

“You don’t like onions?” he asks.

“Oh, no. I like onions, just not that many. I don’t want hair on my chest.” I joke.

His eyes drop from the bowl to my chest, almost glazing over as he stares, then he clears his throat. “I see your point. Any objections to cheese?” he teases back.

“Nope. I love cheese. Avocado can find a place in almost any meal and corn chips—” Instead of continuing, I give him a look to convey‘enough said.’Because who doesn’t love corn chips? “Would you like to watch a movie while we eat?” I use my chin to gesture to the living room.

“Yeah, Doc. That sounds good.” Not waiting for me to lead the way, he picks up his bowl with one hand and his beer in the other, and walks back toward my big, fluffy, denim-covered sofa. A sofa sectional is perfect for snuggling with little girls or hot bikers. Cleans easy in case of spills. As I watch his retreating back, I realize how much I like him in my space.

His gate screams confidence. Strong, power in every step. The way his muscles move, it’s like he’s stalking—almost cat-like—even though it’s only to my sofa. He can’t help it.

When I join him, he’s standing next to the coffee table, not sitting.

“Something wrong?” I ask.

“You got coasters or some shit you want me to use?”

The man smokes, swears too much, and heads a motorcycle club. But asks if I use coasters? Another sweet act from the man who continues to surprise me.

When I don’t answer, he clears his throat. “Women usually want coasters so as not to ruin the coffee table with water spots.”

I look down at the painted white, chipped, has-seen-better-days coffee table made from salvaged wood Jade and I had “rescued” according to her, from a beach in Ireland before we’d left. She’d loved it so much that I paid the hefty sum to have it shipped back here to the U.S. To my parents’ house, where we stayed when we first moved back.

“No,” I finally respond. “No coasters here. Jade and I live comfortable. A home should be a safe place, an escape from the world outside. You want to put your feet up on the coffee table to get comfortable, I won’t complain. The only thing I ask is boots off first, because germs close to food.” I scrunch my nose.

“Fuck, you ain’t who I thought you were.” It’s a strange response. Not said hurtfully, more like, dare I say, reverently.

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