Her Real Man Page 5

  A brief glance at the bathroom mirror told me I had achieved the closest I was ever going to get to perfection. My makeup was in place, with no red blotches in sight, the outfit was simple but sexy-ish, and my hair had been successfully tamed into a bun. I was ready.

  Except I wasn’t. As soon as the bell rang, my stomach rumbled and I had to rush to the bathroom with the heaves while perfect Gavin waited outside my door.

  “Are you okay?” Gavin’s brow wrinkled in worry. It had taken me a good five minutes or more to open the door, and I may have looked a little harassed.

  “Sorry, I was in the room and didn’t hear the bell ring.” I hoped I still looked half presentable, because he looked amazing. My throat went dry and I could almost see my eyes bulging like Daffy Duck’s in panic. Not a good look. “You look good.” Did I say that out loud?

  Gavin chuckled, his sexy lips curling up in the corner. “You don’t look too bad yourself. Are you ready to go?” He offered me his hand, and I didn’t think twice before taking it in mine. It was warm and soft, big enough to fully envelop mine.

  The drive to the park was a blur. I was so aware of his body next to me I couldn’t focus on anything else. Was this what happened when you hadn’t had sex in so long? Or was I just starved for the pure, unadulterated romance I wrote about? It’s a fantasy, woman. Only a fantasy. But the beautiful man next to me defied every “rule” I had set for myself through the years in terms of relationships and the expectations that came with them.

  The Jeep stopped abruptly—or it just felt that way to me—at an empty parking lot by Princess Anne Park. I giggled, wondering whether he had picked this park on purpose because of its name. The glint of amusement in his eyes confirmed my suspicions. Well played, Gavin.

  “I thought you deserved to enjoy a park named after your namesake.” I had not been named after Princess Anne, or any princess for that matter. My mother, ever so practical, had picked the first name she heard mentioned in the hospital after my birth. Thus, I was named for some stranger who just happened to be wandering the hallways of the maternity ward that fateful day.

  I was not going to bust his romantic bubble.

  After helping me slide ungracefully out of the car, Gavin walked a few steps ahead of me, periodically looking back as if making sure I was still following him down the steep, beaten-dirt path. Picnic basket in hand, he walked in that slightly unusual way I had noticed before, not quite a limp but a bit awkward and stiff. It was more noticeable now that he was navigating a path made slippery by the loose dirt and pebbles along the downward walkway. I wondered if it was a leftover effect from the accident he had mentioned the other day. Not that it damaged his cool, handsome demeanor in the least. In fact, it made him look sexier in my book. Then again, the man could probably puke in front of me and I would think it hot.

  Once at the bottom of the hill, Gavin led us to a clearing among the thick cover of the trees and spread the blanket he had draped over his shoulder on the ground. With a flourish, he motioned for us to sit on top of the bright-colored covering and then set down the basket.

  “Hopefully to your liking, princess.” Gavin squinted and grinned as I pretended to study the blanket, my lips pursed and my hand flat on my face. “Well?”

  “It could be a little more grandiose.” My final verdict was met with a gasp of mock outrage. “I mean, it wouldn’t hurt if it had a gilded throne, stuffed with downy cushions and all, but I guess it will have to do.”

  Gavin waited for me to make myself comfortable on the spread before lowering himself to the ground as well. I noticed that odd stiffness in one leg, as if it was painful for him to bend it suddenly.

  “Does it hurt?” I had obviously been away from human contact for far too long. What in heaven’s name possessed me to say that? What if it was something he preferred not to talk about, or brought bad memories? You’re becoming an idiot, woman. But instead of looking confused or upset about the uncouth question, he looked pointedly at his legs, an eyebrow raised into a deep arch. I nodded.

  “Only when it rains.” He laughed at his joke and shook his right leg as if to prove it didn’t bother him. “Side effects from my car accident. It does not hurt at all, just doesn’t bend as quickly as I would like.”

  Gavin had scooted over to sit beside me, his long legs stretched in front of him as he leaned back on his arms. My glance skittered over to his magnificent biceps, bulging from under the short sleeves of his white T-shirt. They were perfect, not too built up, not puny. Just the right balance between grace and strength. So much more my type than the guys I always wrote about. Maybe Gavin could be my “real man” after all. Inspired by that thought, I studied him closely from under half-closed eyelids. My hero—because in my imagination, he was indeed a hero—was not pretty, with his nicely proportioned face, straight nose, emerald-green eyes, and the sexiest lips I had ever seen. For all sense of purpose, he was handsome but not unrealistically so. All in all, he looked like a somewhat average guy.

  Oh my God! He was my real man!

  “If you don’t close your mouth, you’re going to end up eating a fly.” I realized with a start that I had been staring at him, agape and starry-eyed. He scooted closer, his left thigh now touching mine and sending tiny frissons of pleasure running through me. “Or I could just close it for you.” My heart jumped in excitement as his voice became a thick whisper. With a subtle twist of his upper body, he leaned toward me. “A totally altruistic action, of course.”

  For once, I didn’t want any more talk. I leaned toward him and met him halfway, our lips melding and latching on as if we were both starved for each other. In my romance novels, I always described the guys’ taste as musky and spicy. Gavin’s was none of that. He tasted of sunshine and rain, chocolate and wine, winter days by the fireplace and summers on the sand. My fireman tasted of life and joy. His kiss filled me with an energy I hadn’t felt in years. Was that what hope felt like?

  “Much better than a fly.” Had I said that out loud? I must have, because Gavin chuckled quietly against my lips, our foreheads and noses still touching. His hand was resting on my shoulder, its warmth burning pleasantly through the thin cotton of my T-shirt. I yearned to touch him, but we had known each other for a fairly short time and my romantic track record was far from stellar. Slowly, girl, take it slowly.

  “Maybe we should put something else in our mouths for now.” I opened my eyes wide and gasped at my own words. Gavin laughed. “I mean, food. We should put some food in our mouths.”

  Still chuckling, he bent forward to open the picnic basket. “I didn’t take you for a dirty mind, Ms. Mathews.”

  My cheeks burned in embarrassment, but I laughed along as he took a plastic container and two glasses from the basket. “What do you got there, chef?”

  He smiled at me and handed me the container. “Cucumber and watercress sandwiches—I’m watching my waistline.” He chuckled again. “And lobster rolls.”

  My mouth dropped open. I absolutely loved lobster. “That’s my favorite.” He winked as if he already knew that. “How did you guess?”

  “You mentioned it during our firehouse lunch.” I remembered now. One of the guys had mentioned his love for everything seafood and I told them I had fallen in love with the lobster rolls I had while on vacation in Maine. “We have to put them together, but it’s pretty simple: open the rolls and fill with the lobster meat. You said you like them simple, with no mayo or celery.”

  “Just the cooked meat.” I was touched he remembered that. My ex-husband couldn’t even tell what my favorite food was, much less how I liked it prepared. It was rather impressive—and sweet—that Gavin had picked up on that.

  We got busy with the food. Gavin poured us some fresh lemonade—“I remember the last time you had wine”—and we sat for hours, talking and laughing the day away. It was strange how easy it was to be with him. I felt no pressure to do anything or be any particular way. I was able to be my quirky, awkward self without fear of being harshly ju
dged by the handsome man beside me. I was having so much fun time ticked away too fast, and the next thing I knew, it was time to go home.

  “We’ll have to do this again soon.” Gavin had packed all the dishes and leftovers in the basket, and helped me fold the blanket. “I had a lot of fun.”

  When we folded the blanket one last time, our bodies came close together, as if a magnetic force pulled them in. I looked up at his eyes and lost my voice. We stood there, staring in each other’s eyes, hands barely touching as we held the spread, in silence. I could hear my heart beating furiously. Or was that his heart?

  “I want to kiss you again,” he finally said softly. “Can I?”

  I nodded, incapable of uttering a word as he bent down. Good thing we weren’t home, because I was almost certain I would have pulled on his clothes until they came off. It was too soon for that. I wasn’t ready. His lips lingered on mine, gentle and patient, as if we had all the time in the world. I was the one whose body and heart burned with urgent desire. Shit, I wanted this man.

  “The firehouse is having a friendly basketball game against the fifth precinct.” Our lips had parted, and yet I could still taste them. “Do you want to come? Where there are firemen and policemen, there is always lots of food and material for your romances.” Oh my God! He even understood my writer’s mind. “Will you come?”

  Of course I would go. A million times over. I would go to the ends of the earth if he asked me.

  Gavin smiled and kissed me again. That’s when I saw the supernova.

  Soup and Basketball

  Gavin

  The hoses were folded and in place, the equipment cleaned and ready, and the engine sparkled in the sunlight. I threw the dirty, wet rag in the bucket and clapped my hands once.

  “Is that your new thing?” Jackson had appeared out of nowhere—or so it seemed. He had an amused smile on his lips and a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Applauding yourself for work well done?”

  For a moment, I wished I still had the rag in my hands so I could throw it at him. “Shut up, idiot. I was just getting rid of dirt.”

  “Go get cleaned up. I’ll move the truck inside.” I threw the keys to him and picked up my bag from the floor where I had dropped it once I decided the truck needed a bit of fixing up before the game. “We don’t want your girl to be repelled by your messiness.”

  Jackson had seen Ana and me outside kissing a bit earlier, and was acting like an old yenta, nosy and hell-bent on pushing us together.

  “She’s not my girl.” Yet, anyway. But I wanted her to be. More than anything I ever wanted in life. Shock didn’t even begin to describe how I felt faced with such a revelation. We had gone out a few times since our picnic. Nothing too earth-shaking and yet, here I was actually contemplating a real and lasting relationship, two short months after we’d met. “I do need a shower though. Make sure not to crash the engine into the wall while you back it up.”

  I was being purely facetious. Jackson was our lieutenant and fully versed on how to operate and park a fire engine. With a wave, I darted inside the building to get ready. After hours of work under the sun, I smelled rather ripe. The shower called, and I obeyed.

  Sometime later, cleaned and refreshed, I slipped into my shorts and sneakers, ready to take on the world. I couldn’t wait to see Ana again. Even though I had been with her outside not even an hour ago, I was itching to feast my eyes on her gorgeous face and taste her lips again. God, I was in so deep I would never be able to dig myself out.

  “Hey, Gavin. Give me a hand here, will you?” It was Derik, struggling with a giant pan in the kitchen. I detoured toward him, laughing.

  “What the hell are you doing, man?” Derik, a tall, skinny man with a mop of black curly hair, held on to the pan’s handles for dear life.

  “Trying to pour some of this soup into the storage containers, but the fucking pan is heavy and awkward.” I reached out to take over one of the handles while he tipped the pan over just enough to pour some of the thick liquid out. “I’ve been calling those idiots outside, but no one is paying attention.”

  The pan was heavy, and so big it was hard to keep it balanced as we tilted it farther and filled several plastic containers with its contents. “Couldn’t you have waited until after the game to do this?”

  The usual cacophony of raised voices reached us from outside the building. The men were getting ready to start the game, and probably waiting for me.

  “Dude, let’s hurry. They’re waiting.” What I didn’t say was that I was more worried about making my writer wait than my buddies. My stomach clenched in anticipation of her eyes on mine. Shit. I had either struck lucky or out completely. Not sure which yet.

  Pan finally emptied, and with the containers covered and placed safely in the fridge, I rushed to the door, half running, half hopping. My heart tap-danced all the way, and almost exploded when I opened the door and laid eyes on my beautiful Ana. She was sitting on the low wall across the way, her eyes searching for something—hopefully me.

  The guys teased me for having taken so long inside and I gave them the finger, my eyes on Ana all along. I raised my hand and waved until she looked my way.

  Even across the distance, I saw her eyes open wide and her face blanch. What the hell is happening? I followed her eyes down to my legs and it hit me. She didn’t know. Fuck. She didn’t know.

  The game was a blur. I bounced, dribbled, stole the ball from my opponents, and shot it at the basket without much conviction or success. My head was not on the game. It was stuck on the look of surprise—or was it horror—on Ana’s face when she saw me in shorts for the first time. I hadn’t even considered that she may not be aware of my disability. Now what? How was she going to react? Was she going to accept it and move on, or be repulsed by it and run?

  I should have told her. Too late now. I had assumed she knew, and now I had to be ready for whatever her reaction would be. Calm down, idiot. She’s not that shallow. At least I hoped she wasn’t.

  As soon as the game was over—I think we won, but am not sure—I high-fived the other guys out of habit and sped toward Ana. She was still standing by the low wall, looking slightly confused and dazed. This was it. I crossed my fingers, swallowed hard, and got ready for… what, I could not guess. I was ready.

  Or maybe not.

  ***

  Ana

  Delta had spent a whole evening planning my outfit, a slutty combination of a skintight dress and net stockings. I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing it to a club, much less to a friendly basketball game between the firemen and the cops. I would be arrested for indecent exposure, most likely. However, I knew my friend and arguing with her was a waste of everyone’s time. So, I humored her, nodding throughout the whole affair, and as soon as she left I threw the horrible outfit into the charity pile I had been collecting in my bathroom. I was not going to look like Julia Roberts in one of the earlier scenes of Pretty Woman just to please my insane friend.

  This morning I had calmly picked up a pair of jeans and an Austen quote T-shirt, got dressed, and then spent the next hour trying to decide which shoes to wear. After trying on every pair of footwear I had in my closet, I settled on my usual plain Skechers that went well with just about any pair of jeans. Gavin had called me the day before and we decided there was no point in him picking me up, considering the firehouse was walking distance from my house. I would meet him there.

  It was a fabulous day. The sun was shining brightly in a cloudless sky, and a gentle breeze made the early summer heat a lot more pleasurable. With my favorite lavender scarf wrapped around my neck and a pair of elegant sunglasses teetering on the top of my head, I left the house. For once I was confident and sure of myself. Unfortunately, as I approached the fire department, my bravado began to fizzle faster than the air in a busted balloon.

  What if he acts differently around his work buddies? What if he hates this stupid T-shirt? What if he doesn’t think I’m sexy enough?

  The other guys were all al
ready milling around by the basketball court in front of the firehouse, chatting and throwing the ball to each other. No sign of Gavin. I struggled with the decision of whether to go inside and find him or wait for him to come out, but thankfully Gavin just appeared around the corner, a sports bag slung over his shoulder and a smile on his face. He spotted me right away and waved while sauntering across the street in my direction.

  “Hi, beautiful.” He searched for my lips with his and kissed me. Okay. So we aren’t hiding it from his coworkers. I melted against him and had to brace myself with a hand around his neck for fear I would fall. Those lips were to die for. I just couldn’t get enough. When we came up for air, he was smiling at me, his green eyes twinkling with mischief. “Don’t look now, but the other guys are green with envy right now.”

  I sneaked a peek behind him and, sure enough, most of his crew was staring at us, mouths wide open, almost as if paralyzed by an alien freezing ray. I laughed against his chest—which smelled of promises of pleasure of which I was yet to partake.

  “I hate to make you wait, but I’ve got some work to do before the game. You’re staying for the game, right?” He had taken a few steps backward, but he still held on to my hand. “We can go do something afterward.”

  Yes, I do want to do something for sure.

  I sat down on the low wall, a premium spot to watch the game about to start. Some of the guys playfully commented on the kiss as Gavin walked into the building and then waved at me. My cheeks burned. I wasn’t used to being the one envied for romantic adventures. It was kind of nice, but unnerving as well.