“Here’s a good one,” Tim said. “But we need to boogie to make it on time.” He stood, tromping on Charlie’s foot. The dog growled and moved out of his way. “Sorry, pooch. You’re so little I didn’t see you.”
“He does get underfoot sometimes.”
“You can teach him not to. My parents’ beagle behaves perfectly. I’ll get you the name of the obedience school.”
“That’s okay.” I leaned down to pat Charlie’s whiskered face. “He’s too old to change his ways.”
“No, it’s never too late. You just have to be consistent with the discipline.”
I couldn’t help wondering if a man who’d never reared children knew what consistent discipline meant. Anyway, I liked Charlie the way he was. But I decided to play it safe and keep my thoughts to myself.
Twenty minutes later Tim sped us into the parking lot of the Oak Tree Cinemas. He circled around looking for a place where his car doors wouldn’t get dinged and finally parked in a corner spot at the far end of the lot.
“You’re going to love this show,” he said, then hopped out and jogged around the car to open my door. “Let’s hurry. We don’t want to miss the previews.”
The fast-paced action film was the kind I usually avoided. Even as I watched hair-raising car chases and hand-to-hand combat, I found my thoughts reverting to Henry. His melancholy face appeared in the flashing darkness. I asked myself why I’d fled his house so quickly. I should have stayed longer, taken time to examine each work of art. I could have explored the smooth stone surface of the greenish black carved bird displayed on a tall pedestal, and asked about the beaded moccasins sitting on a windowsill.
Well, I missed my chance. I would never go back there again. I gave my teacher a ride home, and he’d shared a personal story only to illustrate a point, to teach his fledgling student a lesson. It made no sense why I even cared.
Glancing at my watch several times only seemed to make the movie drag by more slowly. When the hero finally saved the world, Tim’s arm wrapped around my shoulder. Minutes later, after the credits rolled, he suggested we go out for dessert.
“I’m pretty tired tonight,” I said.
“Then we’ll just get something to drink. It won’t take long.” He placed both hands on my waist as he followed me up the sloping aisle. “You’re not getting away from me yet, pretty lady.”
We walked hand in hand across the parking lot to a Starbucks. “Save us that table by the window, and I’ll get something,” he said, pulling out his billfold. Sitting where he’d suggested, I watched him hand the woman at the counter a twenty, then carefully count his change without leaving a tip. He returned with two vanilla lattes, even though I’d requested a plain one.
“You’ll like this better,” he said. “I’ve never met anyone who hasn’t.”
I tasted my latte, but found it too sweet, causing the inside of my mouth to pucker.
“Like it?” he asked, and I smiled back. Looking across the table at the dimple on his chin and his long eyelashes any woman would envy, I knew I should find him appealing. He was sweet and considerate, unlike some of the self-centered men I’d dated. And Tim apparently found me attractive judging from the way he was looking at me with hungry eyes. Between sips his hand reached across the table and lifted my fingers to his lips for a kiss, then a nibble.
Later, when we got to my front porch, I said, “Thank you, that was fun.”
“This is more fun.” He drew me into an embrace, his mouth covering mine. Again his lips felt cool and hard.
Why didn’t I feel the flame of physical attraction? I wanted to enjoy the kiss, but felt numb inside. Maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe there was something wrong with me. Was my resistance to him some psychological hang-up?
“I’m sorry I’m so tired tonight,” I said. “I hope you don’t mind if I say good night.”
“I understand, pretty lady. This is only our third date. There’s no need to rush things.”
He gave me another extended kiss, then nuzzled my earlobe. “I want to see you again soon,” he murmured. “I’m going to enjoy getting to know you better.”
“Me, too.” Then why was a tug-o-war battling inside mind? I gently extricated myself from his grasp and stepped inside.
“Don’t you worry about a thing, I’ll handle it,” I heard Lois say to someone on the phone as I approached her desk the next morning.
Lois dropped the receiver in its cradle and grinned to herself. She finally noticed me. “Don’t sneak up on me like that,” she said. “But since you’re here, that was Sherry Henrick on the phone. Things are sailing right along.”
In spite of Lois’s somewhat patronizing tone, I liked having her at the helm. Using phrases like “piece of cake” and “no problem,” she sounded confident the sale of Wayne and Sherry’s home would close soon. After we finished some paperwork, Lois and I discussed co-listing a small bungalow that would come on the market in a couple of months.
“I’m glad you’re up for this,” she said. “We’ll see how this one comes together, then the sky’s the limit. This is great. I need an assistant.” She paused to regroup her thoughts, no doubt. “I don’t mean you’ll be my second-in-command.” Her exuberance returned. “You’ll be my partner on these transactions. It’ll work out perfectly.”
“I agree,”
