Evie Interrupted, page 12
Biting the inside of my cheek, I held my crumbling emotions inside. Mom needed me to be strong for her and I wasn’t about to disappoint her.
“I know you are, but you have me and Dad. We’ll be by your side every step of the way.”
“There’s not enough time,” she said.
“Enough time for what?”
“To show you how much I love you.”
My resolve crashed and tears flowed down my face. “Don’t you dare worry about me. I have felt loved by you my entire life.”
“Really?”
“You’re my heroine, and nothing will ever change that.”
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For getting sick. Promise you won’t let your father burden you with me. Live your life, Evie.”
“Mom, you’re not a burden and never will be.”
“Promise me. Please,” she pleaded.
Not wanting to upset her more, I said, “I promise.”
Raising her hand, Mom cupped the side of my face. “My sweet girl. You are my world,”
“I love you, Mom.”
Wrapping our arms around each other, we settled into a long hug. As I held her, I couldn’t help but think that this was her way of saying goodbye to me before she forgot me.
I pulled away, and said, “How about we figure this recipe out together.”
A nod was the only response she gave.
Present
I stood in front of the dark wooden door, hugging the bottle of wine while my stomach performed an Olympic-worthy gymnastics routine. Glancing at the time on my phone, I saw that I still had ten minutes before the official start of my “date” with Butler. Not wanting to appear too eager, I decided to wait on his front porch as the seconds ticked away. In hindsight, I should have driven around the block to kill time instead of standing there in the chilly air like an overzealous immature teeny bopper. I had my best friend to thank for my current situation.
In what was quickly becoming the norm, Maine showed up early to my house to help me get ready for the evening. We struggled with my look: Maine insisted I go all-out sexpot, while I leaned toward a casual, safer route. I certainly didn’t need any kindling to spark a flame whenever I was near Butler. Just the thought of him had my lady parts ablaze.
I won the fashion battle with Maine, opting for a pair of skinny jeans, a long gray sweater, and a pair of black ankle boots. When I pulled my light gray beanie down over my head, Maine looked as if she were going to have a heart attack, mumbling something about me looking like one of Snow White’s seven dwarfs.
Another quick look at my phone showed it was go time. I doubted my choice of attire and pressed the doorbell. Within seconds the door opened, revealing a half-naked Butler in a towel with damp hair flying in all directions.
“Evie! Hey!”
Several thoughts flashed across my mind at once:
I’m earlier than I realized.
I should go home.
Do I have the wrong day?
Sweet baby Jesus, Butler looks good damp.
“Hey…I…um…I’m sorry. Am I early?”
“Your timing is perfect.” A huge grin unfurled across his face.
I’ll say.
I cleared my throat, then said, “If tonight isn’t good for you, I can always come back another—”
Reaching out, Butler grabbed my elbow. “Evie, you’re good. I’m the one who should apologize. I volunteer at the fire department and got hung up there. That’s why I’m running behind.”
“You volunteer…at the fire department? You’re a fireman?”
It was official. This dude was perfect.
“Just one shift a week. My dad and older brother are both firemen. I guess it’s my way of being in the family business. It’ll only take me a few minutes to get dressed.”
My weight shifted from one foot to the other. “Okay. I’ll just wait here until you’re ready.”
Butler’s lips pursed, stifling a laugh. “O-r-r-r you could come inside and relax.”
“I like your idea better. It’s less…”
“Evie.”
Taking a step back, Butler gave me just enough room to slip inside. He smelled minty fresh as I passed over the threshold. Scanning the open floorplan, I tried to take in as much of the place as possible before Butler consumed my attention.
The house was a clean, neat, modern farmhouse style tastefully decorated in cream, beige, and light grays. Warmth flooded my chest when I saw a large table in one corner covered with puzzle pieces. I had to smile. The click of the door closing caused me to turn toward Butler.
“Wow, you have a really nice place,” I said.
“Don’t be too impressed. I basically walked into the furniture store and pointed at stuff already put together by professionals.”
“I didn’t say I was impressed,” I teased. “But good job on the pointing. So, are we playing a game of shirts and skins?” Waving my hand, I indicated his still naked torso.
Confusion flickered across his face for a moment before he realized what I was talking about.
“Sorry, I just got out of the shower.”
My hand went up stopping him. “No explanation required.”
“Make yourself at home, and I’ll go get dressed.”
“Will do, Coach.”
Butler made his way across the room toward the hallway. Stopping, he turned and looked at me. “Evie, did I tell you how happy I am that you’re here?”
My head shook in response as goosebumps popped along my skin. A giggle drifted from my lips. An actual girly giggle. God, he did things to me.
“No.”
“Evie, I’m really happy you’re here.” He winked.
“Go put some clothes on. I’m tired of looking at your perfectly sculpted body,” I teased.
A hint of red touched his cheeks before he walked down the hall to his bedroom, leaving me alone.
Slipping off my beanie, I made my way toward the kitchen, just off the family room. Glancing around I discovered a series of photos hanging on one of the walls chronicling what looked to be Butler’s football career. The grouping consisted of four rows, each containing three photos. The first row showed Butler as a little boy, decked out in a jersey, holding a football in his tiny hands. One was of Butler and an older version of him, I assumed was his dad. The sweetness of the pictures had me thinking what a great dad Butler would probably be—or was. I had little to no real knowledge of this guy or his relationship past.
The other photos in the grouping were a mixture of portrait and action shots in high school and college games. The cute boy became a hot man before my eyes. The last row was reserved for his pro career: the final photo showed a candid shot of Butler sitting on the bench next to one of his teammates. The sadness and disappointment in his eyes had me wondering if this had been the day he said goodbye to a sport and a life he’d dreamed about since he was a little boy.
Not wanting Butler to think I was skunking around, I forced myself away from the wall and continued toward the kitchen. I desperately wanted to open the wine I’d brought and get a swig or two down before he came back but rummaging through his drawers for an opener seemed worse than staring at his photos. Although, if I just checked a couple of drawers and didn’t see one, I could just close them back up—which could not be defined as rummaging.
Placing the bottle on the countertop, I focused in on my first target. My gaze flickered up, making sure Butler wasn’t near, and then I slowly pulled on the handle. Nothing. There was absolutely nothing in the drawer. Who has an empty drawer in their house? That seemed weird. Suddenly Maine’s voice popped into my head:
You’re just looking for something to be wrong with him. An empty drawer does not equal freak.
It could equal neat freak, which I am not. I’m reasonably neat, but if he’s anal about keeping things a certain way I don’t—”
“Can I help you find something?”
The second his voice hit my ears, my heart took a nosedive to the deep dark depths of my stomach. Not looking up, I inconspicuously as possible shut the drawer. This was ridiculous because he had obviously caught me red-handed.
“I promise I wasn’t snooping.” Pause. “I’m a little on edge. Not because of you. Well, it’s a little because of you. That’s a lie. It’s all because of you. I really like you and I haven’t been on a date in a long time, and being here is… I thought a little wine would settle my nerves, but I forgot to bring an opener, so I thought maybe you had one…”
“Stop. Don’t say another word.”
Butler rounded the kitchen island with a determined expression covering his chiseled face. In one fluid motion, he cupped the sides of my face, holding me in place, while he kissed me senseless. I automatically melted into his lips. My hands glided over the soft, white, long-sleeved T-shirt around his waist to the small of his back while fireworks erupted throughout my body. This man affected me in ways no one ever had before. In a very short period of time, I had become addicted to his attention and his touch. I never wanted him to stop kissing me. As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I felt Butler pull away.
With his hands still cupping my face, he whispered, “Sorry about that. You just looked so—”
“Guilty?” I interrupted.
“Hot and fucking adorable. I mean, adorable. I shouldn’t have said fucking. Shit, I said it again, plus I said shit.”
“Don’t worry. Your southern gentleman status is still intact.”
“I like you in my kitchen.”
My pulse pounded in my ears. “I like being here.”
“Good. Let’s get you liquored up.”
With cat-like quickness, Butler dipped down, wrapped his arms around my thighs, and hoisted me over his shoulder. The shock caused a squeal, followed by uncontrollable laughter, to stream out of me as he plopped me down onto the countertop. I watched as he grabbed a wine glass and opener then sauntered back over to me. Keeping his gaze focused on mine, Butler opened the bottle and poured the glass of wine without spilling a drop.
Raising the glass to my mouth, I said, “That was some pretty fancy footwork, Coach.”
One of his dark brows lifted. “If you think that was something, wait until you see what I can do with my hands.”
His words were like a flamethrower igniting the nerve endings between my legs. Images of Butler’s big hands on my body tore through my mind. I took a big gulp of wine, hoping it would bring the temperature of my lady parts down to a simmer.
Taking a step back, Butler clapped and rubbed his palms together. “Prepare to be dazzled.”
I sipped wine and gazed at Butler moving around the kitchen with such confidence. The dude was a real chef. He gathered several herbs and spices from the cabinet before pulling out a large container from the fridge and setting it on the counter. Between the kiss and the half glass of wine, I had a nice little buzz brewing.
“Whatcha got going on over there, Coach?”
“My specialty, ribs with my very own barbeque sauce.”
“You really don’t know much about women, do you?”
“Never said I did.” He sprinkled some concoction of dry herbs and spices over the meat.
I sat my glass down, hopped off the counter, and walked over to get a peek at his culinary mastery, saying, “Barbeque ribs is in the top five worst foods to eat on a date.”
He continued to sprinkle and smirked. “Who says?”
“It’s common knowledge.”
“On the contrary. Ribs are the perfect date meal if you really like the person.”
Tingles skipped down my spine. I liked the way he kept telling me how much he liked me.
“Explain yourself, Sir.”
Turning toward me, Butler bent down, and said, “The only way to eat ribs is by picking them up with your hands. It’s inevitable that the sauce will drip down your fingers. You can’t waste good sauce, and my sauce is out of this world, insanely good.”
“You’re pretty sure of yourself.”
“Yes, I am.”
His nearness caused my knees to wobble and my vision to blur.
I swallowed hard. “So, how does one not waste your sauce?”
He leaned in, his lips almost touching mine. “I find that the finger-lickin’-suckin’ method works best.”
A swoon-induced sigh floated from my lips. “Sounds like a fool-proof method.”
“I can’t wait to demonstrate on you. Your mind will be completely turned around on the subject.”
I wanted to rip his clothes off and demonstrate my own lickin’ and suckin’ method. I needed to get hold of my hormones. I came here for one thing and one thing only—to get the scratch on my rear bumper buffed out. At least that was what I kept telling myself. Our mutual attraction was off-the-charts palpable. The smart thing to do was to douse it.
“I gotta pee.” That should do it.
“Down the hall, first door on the right.”
His expression didn’t change one bit. Not even a flinch at the crude mention of my bodily function. The smolder that swirled in his dark eyes remained. Once in the safety of the bathroom, I did, in fact, pee.
After washing my hands, I dried them using the designated hand towel, noticing a navy T-shirt slung over the shower rod. I pulled it down and held it in front of me. The words Volunteer Fire was scrolled across the back in big bold letters. Bringing the material to my nose, I inhaled a slow deep whiff of licorice, also known as Butler. My stalker tendencies were sinking to new lows. I quickly placed the shirt back over the rod and rewashed my hands, scrubbing them free of any residual licorice odor.
Looking in the mirror over the sink, I couldn’t help the guilt that formed in the pit of my stomach. I craved this unfamiliar new feeling of being a carefree twenty-seven-year-old spending time with the new guy in her life. Like the other times I’d been with Butler, I completely forgot about my real life. The worse part, the part that made me a horrible person, was that I didn’t want to go back to it. Not just yet.
Present
I stayed in the bathroom, praying that the guilt would overtake the excitement I felt orbiting in Butler’s atmosphere. After several minutes of struggling, the excitement won and pushed me back to the kitchen. Butler was standing at the stove with a bottle of beer in one hand and a spoon in the other, stirring something in a pot. The acoustic version of “Time After Time” by Boyce Avenue filled the air. I wanted this. I wanted him even if it were only for one night.
Walking up behind him, I dragged my nails across Butler’s back before landing at his side. There was no denying the jolt of electricity that sparked from his body under my touch. It gave me quite the rush.
“Find everything okay?” Butler said.
I allowed my fingers to gently scratch circles on his lower back. “Once I found the location, the rest fell into place. I’ve been in bathrooms before.”
“You’re always quick with the comebacks.” He chuckled.
“I do my best.”
“Evie, if you keep running your nails across my back, I’m going to have to go to the bathroom for an entirely different reason.” My hand stilled as I fell silent. Booming laughter roared out of Butler. “What? No comeback?”
With my index finger and thumb, I grabbed a tiny bit of his skin and pinched. Butler dropped the spoon and jumped back, laughing the entire time. I advanced toward him with both hands poised in front of me, opening and closing like a snapping turtle.
“Truce! Truce!” he pleaded.
With fluttering eyelashes and a sugary southern accent, I said, “Is the big ol’ football hero afraid of little ol’ me?”
“In more ways than one.”
Our gaze locked and something passed between us. Maybe the realization that we belonged together. Thank God I blinked first. “Um…it’s not right for you to do all the work here. What can I do to help?”
A bit dazed, Butler said, “Uh…well…the ribs are on the grill, secret sauce is done, and the mac n’ cheese is in the oven. How about slicing the green tomatoes?”
“We’re having fried green tomatoes? I’m standing in the middle of heaven.”
“Not so fast. You haven’t experienced the rest of the rooms.”
Heat washed over my cheeks as Butler set up a space on the counter for me with a cutting board and knife. As I started to slice, he took a container of his secret sauce out to the grill and checked on the ribs. Within seconds, I realized how comfortable I felt in his kitchen, in his house, and in his presence. The wine caused my guard to waver and relax. When Butler came back inside, he did a quick check of the mac n’ cheese before grabbing another beer. Out of the corner of my eye I spied a refilled wine glass and a cute puzzle nerd.
“How’s it going, champ?”
“Good,” I said, stopping to take a sip of wine. “Thanks for the refill.”
“Gotta keep my help happy.”
I went back to slicing as we settled into a comfortable silence. I felt safe and at home.
“Tell me about yourself, Evie.”
It was a harmless request, common when people were getting to know each other. But for me, it caused the hairs on the back of my neck to stiffen.
“There’s not much more to add to what you already know about me.”
“Actually, I hardly know anything.”
“Sure, you do.” I was beginning to sweat my buzz off.
“I know you’re smart, funny, sweet, beautiful, sexy, and I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Jesus Christ, this dude is killing me.
“You should quit while you’re ahead.” I winked, hoping to redirect the line of questioning to light, fluffy topics.
“I’m serious. I want to get to know you better. I want to know everything about you.”
“What do you want to know?”
He took a swig of beer and thought for a moment. “Let’s start off simple. What do you do for a living?”
Simple my ass.
Staying focused on the tomatoes, I racked my brain to come up with a plausible, but not too revealing, answer. “I’m a grad student.” It wasn’t an actual lie. I had been on track to go to grad school, but once Dad dropped the divorce bomb, my plans got derailed.
