Junk Love, page 13
“Are you going to tell me to slow down?” Courtney teased.
“You’re welcome to stay over. If you’re driving, you could try one of these. They’re pretty tasty. Or eat something.”
“Bubbles do not make it tasty. But if you’re asking me to sleep with you, that’s the best offer I’ve had in a while.”
“Then bottoms up. Please puke in my toilet if you have to.”
Erica called to them, “I can give you a ride home.”
“Deal,” Courtney yelled back.
“That’ll do.” Paige nodded at the cards fluttering in Cora’s hands. “What are we playing?”
“Texas Hold ‘Em?” After Cora got a nod of approval, she flipped cards face up at each place.
Ambling back from the kitchen with Holly, Courtney asked, “Did you finish your paperwork?”
“Not yet. Thanks for getting that.”
“Well, hurry up, lady.” Courtney flopped down. “Get that shit in. We’re desperate for foster parents.”
Holly took her seat. “You’ve seen the application. It’s huge.”
That’s what she said. Cora sipped her grapefruit-flavored sparkling water, which was pretty tasty.
“All in?” Paige and Cora were the only ones left since Erica had taken Courtney home and Holly was in the bathroom.
“Sure.” Cora pushed her meager stacks of white, red, and blue chips to the table’s center.
“You can take her, Cora,” Holly called on her way to the kitchen.
Paige shouted over her fanned cards, “How long have we been friends?”
As the brownie platter clunked beside them, Cora tried not to take their abundance personally. How could anything compete with cherry pie?
“We can declare Paige the winner if you want to go to bed,” Cora said, stopping Holly en route back to the kitchen.
“No way! I love having friends over. But are you tired? Have you decided about keeping the baby?”
Cora nodded, smiling back.
“Yay!” she cheered, bouncing on her toes, then clasping her hands at her chest. “I’m so excited for you. You can do this. When can I babysit?” She plunked down beside Cora. “Or are you going to UW? I bet you could swing the baby at UW if you can afford childcare.”
Maybe Holly’s optimism was contagious, but the world felt brighter, full of flawed but caring people, and she was ready to articulate a vague and impossible dream.
“I might have help from her dad, too.”
“Your ex?” Holly’s smile vanished. “Who you were steering clear of?”
Cora wished she had kept her mouth shut. She just nodded.
“Sorry.” Holly touched her knee. “Catch me up.”
“I told him about the baby on Monday. He was great about it, and he wants to help.”
“Does he still love you?”
Did he? “He might, I guess. He said he did in January when we broke up and in February when I said I wanted no contact.”
“Umm…” Paige grumbled, crossing her arms.
“Why did you break up?” Holly asked.
“Wait.” Paige cocked her scowling head. “He got you pregnant right before you broke up?”
“It was an accident.” Cora rearranged the cards in her hand in no particular order. “We drank too much on New Year’s Eve. He even did some cocaine with his brother. I found that part out later.”
The silence wasn’t awesome.
“You want Captain Cokehead to babysit?”
Holly corrected Paige. “It isn’t babysitting when it’s your child.”
“He might not be an addict” didn’t even convince Cora as she heard herself say it; it certainly didn’t persuade Holly and Paige. But she soldiered on. “Can’t cocaine be a party drug that functional people use sometimes?”
Paige shook her head at her cards, but her frown looked more disgruntled than disagreeing.
Cora kept relocating cards and asked, “Do you think I should ask him to see an addiction counselor before he watches the baby—if I let him?” She didn’t want to look at Holly, but she finally did.
Her big blue eyes were sympathetic, and her mouth was set and strong like a mother sending her daughter somewhere frightening but necessary. “Couldn’t hurt, might help.”
“Please be on guard with this guy, okay?” Paige said, softer. “It’s not consensual if you’re too drunk to consent.”
“I hadn’t consented. I’d told him I was waiting, but I put myself in a stupid position, and he lost control.” In her hand, the king of hearts’ sword skewered his head. “He’s sorry, though.”
“I thought—” Holly began.
Thwack. Paige’s cards splayed on the table. “This asshole raped you?”
Holly
Sunday, July 3, 2016
Stupid autopilot. This was her lunchtime running route. Not the prettiest streets, but at least it went through the park. Kids buzzed around the playground structures while moms and dads chatted.
A new song whispered a minor note over the first drumbeat. The drum continued alone, slapping slower than Holly’s feet until one solid misfit soldier, a low piano key, joined in doing double time beatdowns, inviting her to enlist. “Love Runs Out” picked up intensity. So did she.
Going full out was fantastic. Even dodging the woman with the stroller didn’t hurt her heart. Flying past the buildings of Fort Herring Medical Center, she spied orange construction signs ahead. That’s right. They were tearing up the sidewalk. No problem. Asphalt was bouncier anyway. As she veered into the parking lot, a classic white Jeep pulled into the far entrance. She glanced around for other cars.
Like that one. A sedan the color of old-lady-red nail polish inched into Holly’s aisle. Not able to tell which side the white-haired driver wanted to park on, she smiled and jogged in place until the car crept into a spot.
Back on the sidewalk, an unfamiliar, muffled beat layered into the song and she worked back up to—
Someone tapped her bare shoulder.
Jolting away, Holly side-stepped into the bike lane and registered Jacob’s face as he reached out for her, running at her pace. He pulled her away from the street. Honk! A car passed and they slowed to a walk. When Jacob’s mouth moved, One Republic was still pumping promises through her earbuds, so she shook her head and extracted one.
“That went poorly,” he chuckled. “You okay?”
Nodding, she tried to tamp down the tornado of butterflies he’d released in her chest.
“You should be more careful.”
“I was fine ‘til you showed up,” she laughed.
“Sorry.” He touched her arm. “Walk with me a sec? I dropped something.”
The butterflies had spread to her brain, fluttering in her visual cortex so all she could see was flickers of color and him. She turned off her music and secured her earbuds in her shorts pocket while Jacob aimed for a sidewalk bench with a yellow-and-pink bouquet. For a girl. The gut butterflies plummeted into the pit of her stomach, stone dead. Of course. He has a girlfriend.
“Where’s your habit?” he asked, nodding at her blue tank top and white shorts. “This is cute, but where do you hide the ruler?” At the bench, he scooped up the bouquet and smiled. “I refuse to call you Sister Holly. That would be weird.”
Was he flirting with her? Jacob seemed like the farthest thing from a Keith. Jacob wasn’t flirting. He was being playful. Nothing wrong with that. She could do playful. She loved playful. Playful was her jam.
“I took a hard pass on the nun idea.” She braced her hands on her hips. “I want a baby.”
“Really.”
Shifting her weight between her feet, she said, “My brother and I are pretty competitive. He already has one, so I need at least two.”
“As luck would have it, my sister just popped one out.” His flower arm pointed toward the hospital. “Want to see if she’s tired of it yet? I hear they’re a ton of work, so you might score it for cheap.”
Zombie butterflies rose, climbing over their undead brethren and clawing at her insides.
“Champ did the whole thing au naturale.”
“Please tell her ‘Congratulations’ for me.” Holly’s smile faltered. That sounded like goodbye, which sounded awful.
“Tell her yourself. Our mom raves about you. I’m sure she’d like to meet you.”
“No thanks.” After Owen was born, Danielle bristled at anyone but family visiting. “I don’t want to intrude.”
“Let me buy you a coffee. The Starbucks mermaid’s right there.” Jacob nodded at the coffee shop across the boulevard. “A human can’t resist the call of a siren,” he said, then hummed a few bars of a melody, the enchanted vocal stylings of the Little Mermaid.
Holly tucked her grin into a humorless pout. “What was that?” She cupped her hand around her ear. “If it was louder…”
“Don’t judge. My niece made me watch that last weekend.” He tapped his bulky wristwatch. “Ten minutes. Then you can get back to your run. You’ll be so jacked up on caffeine, you’ll make up for lost time.”
“Okay.”
He smiled. “Now I don’t have to come to Mom’s appointment next week.”
* * *
Holly fidgeted at the small square table while Jacob waited for their order. He looked so adorable in his short-sleeved button-down shirt and jeans. His shirt was untucked, which concealed his tight waist and cute ass. How did she—? The khakis at the clinic. She drummed on her bare thighs, inhaling roses, then leaned to the seat where he had left them. What a thoughtful brother.
When he arrived with their drinks, she let herself look at him again.
“Your triple venti, half-caff, sugar-free, non-fat yak-milk macchiato, extra foam.” He slid the small white cup before her with a teasing dimple in his stubbly cheek.
“Perfect.” She grinned at the 12-ounce Americano’s steaming chocolate brown surface. “Thank you.”
“So.” Jacob pulled out the chair, which looked way too small for him. “You grew up in Colorado?”
“Mm-hm. You?”
He smiled across the table. “Here.”
“Utah here or Fort Herring here?” The coffee was burning her hands, so she set it down.
“Fort Herring area. Mountaindale. Near Dugan Point.”
“Your mom must be happy you’ve stayed close.”
“My brother and sister are here, too. What brought you here? Utah here.”
“I went to University of Utah for my master’s in Nutrition and Dietetics.”
“Ute, huh? That explains your hippie streak.”
“Hippie streak?” She wasn’t wearing any makeup. Was that it? Shit. She wasn’t wearing any makeup.
He picked up his coffee. “Remember that whole bit you gave my mom about evolution?”
“That does not make me a hippie.” She shook her head, examined her coffee, and crossed her arms. “This might give you a big head, but I have a confession.”
“You’re Catholic.” Jacob sat forward with his forearms on the table.
Tugging her gaze from his beautiful hairy arms, she said, “I’m firmly agnostic.”
His dark eyebrows scrunched. “Like a hard waffle?”
“Ew.” Holly’s face squelched.
“Right?” He propped his chin in his hand. “Where is this agnostic nunnery of yours?”
“The nun idea is long gone. Try and keep up.”
Jacob looked enthused, not offended. “Yes, ma’am.” He leaned back. “I’ll take your confession, but I can’t forgive you. I don’t have that kind of authority.”
Once she adjusted her napkin, she said, “If there is an authority, he’d like my confession.”
“I’m intrigued.” He sipped his coffee.
“Do you believe in God?” Steam was still rising from hers.
“I do now. Long story.”
“Now I’m intrigued.”
“I’m an intriguing guy. Tell me your thing.”
“It isn’t logical to give designer credit to a force without a mind to design with.” Holly cupped the warm coffee in both hands and blew on it. “Thanks for challenging me on that.”
“Glad to be of service.”
As she sipped, the heat zapped her tongue and scalded a bit so the nutty, brothy flavor was only there when it was gone. “What do you do for work?”
“Law enforcement.”
Pouncing on the opportunity for payback, she said, “You’re a redneck.”
“Only when I forget sunscreen.” While he rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze fell on the newspaper left at the adjacent table. “Are you into astrology?”
“Not into it, but horoscopes are fun sometimes.” She leaned back. “You’re not. Are you? Is this a test?”
“Maybe.” He winked, reached for the paper, and opened it. “What’s your sign?”
“I’m an Aries.”
“Aries, Aries…” He paged through.
“And yours?”
“I’m a cancer and a crab. See why I don’t like the stuff? I am neither of those.”
“When’s your birthday?
“June 21st.”
“Happy belated birthday.”
“Thanks. Here we go.” Jacob fanned open the newspaper, screening himself from her. After a moment, he pulled it down to his chest. “You have a secret admirer.”
Holly laughed. “Not you, is it?”
“Woman, I hardly know you.” He lowered his voice. “I think it’s that guy in the corner. He’s had his eye on you since we walked in.”
After a beat, she elbowed her napkin off the table and, retrieving it, spied the gentleman: a man in his seventies reading a thick book. She rose and faced Jacob with her napkin and a smirk.
He smiled. “Write down your phone number. I’ll give it to him. It would make his day.”
“He is my type,” she said, fingering the rim of her cup. “But I’m looking for a sperm donor, and I’m pretty sure he’s out of the game.”
“Can’t that guy you were dating…” He fixated on the table. “What was his name? Bill? Bob? Billy Bob…?”
“How did you know?”
“You dated a guy named Billy Bob?” His delectable lips were solemn, but his joke was busting out his forest green eyes. “The Billy Bob? Thornton? You do have a thing for older guys. That’s cool—”
“That I was dating someone when we met.”
“I didn’t.” Jacob leaned back with a satisfied grin.
As she shook her head, her ponytail brushed the back of her neck. Then she put her elbows on the table and held her paper cup to her lips. They sat like that for a minute. The shadow of hair encircling his head and jaw was hot.
“You have intense eyes.” His smiled. “You know that?”
“Who, me?” Holly’s coffee tripped on the napkin. “That was all you, buddy.”
“You’re competitive,” he shrugged. “If we were having a staring contest, I didn’t want to forfeit. I did win.”
“Really.”
“You looked at the table when you put down your coffee. Now you have to give me your number.”
“Fair’s fair.” She managed a straight face. “But I don’t have anything to write with.”
“Here.” Pulling his phone out of his pocket, he swiped and tapped its screen and then slid it across the table. The new contact was named “Hot Jogger.”
Holly laughed and typed in her number.
After he plucked the flowers from the empty chair, he stood. “Okay, bye.”
“You’re leaving?”
“See you later.” He touched her shoulder. “What’s your last name?”
“Samuelsson.”
His eyebrows scrunched, then he smiled. “See you later, Samson.”
“Samuelsson,” she frowned.
“I heard you. Not a fan of nicknames?”
“Not if it refers to an arrogant manwhore.”
Jacob’s gut-busting laugh drew the attention of a green-aproned employee and a couple of customers before he reclaimed his seat. “This I have to hear.” Chuckling more quietly, he added, “Granted, Samson had his issues.”
Holly shrugged. “My dad dragged me to his church in high school. My mom and dad got a divorce when I was eight.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. My dad’s better off. So, Samson. He was blessed by God, buff as hell, and he flaunted it. He knocked up women from the rival clan, even though they were at war. Genius move there.”
Jacob beamed over his crossed arms.
“One of his trophy wives, Delilah, outsmarted him and got him to tell her how her people could overpower him—by cutting off his magic hair. Who does that?”
Instead of answering, his mouth squinched around a very distracting dimple.
“Wow,” she continued, “I never caught the connection to Tangled before. Now that would have been a power couple: Samson and Rapunzel.”
“He still helped his people during a rough time. Nobody’s perfect. And you do have awesome hair.”
She smiled.
“Rapunzel would be a shit nickname. And Samuelsson has a whole extra syllable.”
“Fine. Call me what you want.”
“I’ll call you.” He double tapped the table’s edge and stood.
“Bye.”
The window offered a last glimpse of him heading toward the hospital. After a moment of happily missing him, Holly found the Aries horoscope.
As the Sun moves through your solar fourth house, this week will bring a focus on home and family, dear Aries. Venus and Mercury are here as well, increasing feelings of domesticity. This is a propitious time to make memories with special people in your life. Focus on ways to have fun, break out of stale routines, and express yourself.
Secret admirer, huh?
Marimba chords trilled, so she pulled her phone from her armband but didn’t recognize the number. “Hello?”
