Chapter Four

Chapter Four

The Wait

Sidney

I wanted Skye to say yes right away. I’d hoped she would, especially after she laid that kiss on me. But based on her shocked expression, she hadn’t expected the spark that flared between us.

She’d blinked up at me, muttered a thanks and a sorry and rushed across the street, almost tripping on the curb when she stole one last look over her shoulder before she was swallowed by the crowd.

It’s been forty-eight hours.

I haven’t gone back to the café.

But I have looked up her accounting firm and found her under the list of employees. Skye Hall is a senior accountant at Freeman Financials, and she’s been with the firm for nearly fifteen years.

Next, I searched for her on social media. Mostly her feed consists of lactose intolerance memes, a few pictures with her friends during various holidays, a couple of work parties and many pictures of her with her daughter, who looks like a younger, smaller version of her mom.

“Hey dad, you ready to go?” My son, Miller—his hockey friends call him Buck—is standing at the kitchen door, jacket and shoes on, a baseball cap covering his mop of blond hair.

“Yup, ready to roll.” I slide my phone in my pocket and grab the keys from the counter, following him outside. “You want to drive to the arena?”

His eyes light up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, sure, just watch your speed.” I toss him the keys and he grins widely, the gap where his front teeth should be a black hole in his otherwise nearly perfect smile.

He lost them when he took a puck to the face last year, which was unfortunate since we were closing in on the end of his battle with braces. He has temporaries for now, but he always takes them out when he’s on the ice. Next year, when his jaw stops growing, he’ll get implants. He doesn’t seem to care much about the missing teeth, and it sure doesn’t stop the girls from calling him.

I climb into the passenger seat and Miller gets behind the wheel, still grinning. He buckles up, then checks the mirrors before he punches the directions in the GPS.

“You feeling good about the game on Saturday?” I ask as he pulls out of the driveway.

“Yeah.” He grips the wheel at ten and two. “The Cougars haven't been winning much and the last time we played them, we kicked their asses five-one, so we have the advantage. But they got that new kid from out west who shows a lot of promise. I hope it takes him a bit to get comfortable with the team. From what I’ve seen, he’s got speed, but his accuracy isn’t the best and I can use that to my advantage.”

“Good, good. Sounds like you have a handle on it. We can watch a game and plan strategy tomorrow.”

“I have tutoring after school.” He drums on the wheel.

“How’s that going? How was the English test? You took it in the resource room and they gave you extra time?” Miller was diagnosed with dyslexia as a kid, so reading has always been a challenge, but his school is good about giving him extra time and the assistive devices he needs to be successful.

“Yeah, I took it in the resource room and yeah, I got double time for that. I think it went okay, or as okay as English tests ever go, anyway.” He shrugs.

“You want me to pick you up after tutoring and take you to practice?”

“Nah, you don’t need to do that. Her house is a couple blocks from the arena, so you can meet me there.” He glances at me out of the corner of his eye.

“I thought your tutor was that Anthony kid?”

“Uh yeah, but his schedule and mine didn’t work so good, so I got reassigned to this girl named Samantha. She’s a senior, and she wants to work with kids who have language exceptionalities or something, so it’s a good fit.” His cheeks flush and the steering wheel tapping amps up a few notches.

“Is she cute?”

His cheek tics. “I guess. She’s nice, and she’s patient, and she doesn’t mind explaining things more than once. She’s got that nerdy library girl look going on.”

I make a sound. “Is that your type? The nerdy library girls?”

“Eh, I don’t really know if I have a type yet.”

“Will her parents be home?”

That flush of his deepens. “Dunno.”

My phone buzzes so I slide it out of my pocket and check the message. It’s from a number I don’t recognize. I key in my passcode and tap on the message.

I’d like to retract my statement about you not wanting to date me.

This is Skye btw.

Skye: We had coffee at The Coffee Emporium, and I stuck my foot in my mouth and then I stuck my tongue in yours.

Skye: :/

Skye: Why isn’t there an unsend feature on text messages? That needs to be an option.

I laugh and compose a response.

Sidney : I highly appreciate your lack of filter even in your text messages.

Sidney : Especially in your text messages.

Sidney : I hoped I’d hear from you.

Sidney : And I’ve been replaying the kiss often over the past two days.

A new message appears:

Skye : Good replay or bad replay?

Sidney : Definitely good. Does this mean you’re saying yes to the date on Friday?

Skye : Yes. I’m saying yes.

“Fuck yeah.” I fist pump the air.

“What’s going on?” Miller glances at me and then refocuses his attention on the road. “Who are you texting? Is it about the draft?”

“Uh no. It’s not about the draft. We’ve got lots of time and there are teams interested in you, so you don’t have to worry about that.”

“Oh okay. What’s got you so excited then? Did someone get signed or something?”

Miller and I don’t keep a lot of secrets from each other. Apart from the fact that I’m pretty sure he’s hooking up with his current tutor, but he’s a seventeen-year-old boy and we’ve had the safe sex talk. If he wants to do it, he’ll find a way. I’d rather it be in a house and bed than the back of a car.

“I have a date.”

“Wait, what?” He takes his eyes off the road.

“Stop sign!” I shout.

He hits the brakes, and my phone goes flying. It slams into the dash, hits the passenger door, drops to the floor, and slides under my seat.

“Shit. Sorry. Dammit. Sorry,” Miller says. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

The person behind us honks. Miller checks both ways before driving through the intersection, then makes a right into the arena. “A date, huh? You finally give in and message one of those ladies from the app?”

“I met her at a coffee shop.”

“Cool.” He taps the steering wheel. “When’s this date?”

“Friday night. But I can schedule it so we go for dinner after your practice.”

“You don’t need to do that, Dad. You’re always at the arena with me. You can skip a night. And Randy can drive me home. We were talking about seeing that new Marvel movie, anyway.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive.” He pulls into a spot close to rink three. “That’s great that you’ve got a date, Dad.”

* * * *

“Blue or silver tie.”

“I say blue. Coordinates with your eyes and the ladies like that.” Randy, my son's best friend and teammate, glances over his shoulder before perusing the contents of my fridge. He’s a bottomless pit. They both are. “You mind if I heat up this leftover pizza?” He holds up the Ziplock bag containing six slices from last night’s dinner.

“Sure, go ahead.”

“You gotta split it with me, though. And I agree on the blue tie,” Miller’s eyes don’t lift from the phone in his hand.

“You didn’t even look.”

“I don’t need to. Whenever you wear that tie the moms flirt with you. Wear it on your date.”

“Where you going for dinner?” Randy asks.

“Spiaggia.”

Randy’s eyebrows pop. “Nice, Mr. B. She must be hot.”

I chuckle and shake my head. “You boys better get a move on, or you’ll be late for practice and then I’ll hear it from your coach.”

“On it.” Miller heads for the front foyer. “Have fun on your date, Dad.”

“You still thinking about that movie?” I ask.

“Depends on the timing, but probably. I’ll be home around eleven, so I can get a solid seven before the game tomorrow morning.”

“Good man. Have a good practice and fun night. Drive safe, Randy.”

“You got it, Mr. B. Good luck on your date.”

The boys leave and I give myself a final once-over in the hall mirror before I hop into my SUV. Skye said she’d meet me at the restaurant, in lieu of me picking her up.

I arrive fifteen minutes early and take a seat at the bar to wait. I order a scotch on the rocks to help ease the nerves.

Despite the bar being mostly empty, a woman takes the seat beside mine and orders an extra dirty martini. “Hi.”

I tip my scotch toward her in acknowledgement. “Good evening.”

She gives me an appraising glance. “That it is. I’m celebrating my divorce with a girlfriend tonight. How about you?”

“First date.”

Her eyes light up. “Blind date?”

“We’ve had coffee.”

“Hmm.” She sips her martini. “Well, if that doesn’t work out, you might find me at the bar across the street later.” She drags an olive free of the toothpick with her teeth. I think it’s supposed to be sexy, but it’s just awkward. She puts her hand on my arm and leans in, as if she’s planning to tell me a secret.

It’s then that I spot Skye at the host stand. She’s wearing a curve hugging ice blue dress, and sweet mother of God, the cleavage is damn well drool worthy.

Her gaze shifts my way, then drops to the woman’s hand on my arm, before moving to the person attached to it. Her brow arches and I spin on my stool. “If you’ll excuse me, my date has arrived.” I don’t wait for the woman to respond and leave my scotch behind.

My gaze roves over her on a hot sweep as I eat up the distance between us. I take her hand and bring it to my lips. “You look utterly sinful.”

“And you look like you want to eat me for dessert.” Her gaze darts over my shoulder and she tips her chin up. “Who's your friend?”

“I’m unsure. She’s on the prowl. Freshly divorced. It was about to get awkward, so thank you for the save.”

Skye’s eyebrow lifts. “You’re a little too handsome for your own good, aren’t you?”

“And you’re so beautiful you make it hard to think. This dress is…” I step back and take her in, working hard not to linger too long on her cleavage. “Stunning.”

“My daughter picked it out and called it boobalicious. The poor kid working the host stand couldn’t form a complete sentence after I took off my coat, so it’s probably a bit much. I apologize in advance if people mistake me for a professional escort. It’s the last time I’ll take wardrobe advice from my teen.” She blows out a breath. “Lord help me. I’m nervous and rambling. This explains my single status for the past decade and a half.”

“I think you look fabulous.”

“Because of the boobs.” She motions to them and rolls her eyes. “Sometimes I wish my mouth would stop running without my permission. I would make out with you again, but it’s one thing to do that on a street corner, and totally another in a restaurant. And then people will most definitely assume I’m an escort. Although, maybe not, because you’re way too good looking to need to pay for a date.”

“Excuse me sir, you left your drink at the bar.” The bartender holds out my scotch.

Skye takes the drink from her and tosses it back in one gulp, then covers her mouth with her hand as her eyes water. “Oh, God, that tasted like lighter fluid.” She hands the glass back to the bartender. “I don’t know what that was, but it wasn’t my favorite.”

The bartender looks from me to Skye. “It was a seventeen-year-old scotch, ma’am.”

“No more scotch for me then.”

The host approaches us. “Mr. Butterson, your table is ready.”

Skye looks from me to the host and back again. “Is that your actual last name?”

“It is.”

“I have never heard that outside of South Park .”

I laugh and thread my arm through hers, following the host to our table. “It’s only slightly better than Ramsbottom.”

“I went to high school with a Mike Hunt. Who does that to their kid? And a Richard Dick, which is basically naming your kid Dick Dick.”

“Did he own it and go with Dick?”

“No, he tried to go by Rich but he was kind of dorky, so all the jocks who were jerks called him Double Dick. It was awful. The poor guy. I mean, I guess if he was well-endowed it would have been not the worst, but he was the kid who wore the same sweatpants and t-shirt basically every day of the week. I wonder what happened to him. I hope he has a great job and makes lots of money and found his lobster.”

We reach our table and I step up to push in Skye’s chair before the host can offer. The host disappears as I take the seat across from her. Skye frowns at her cleavage. “This is ridiculous.”

I cover my mouth with my hand to hide my smile. “What’s ridiculous?”

She motions to her chest. “I don’t even have a shawl to hide any of this nonsense.”

“I’m partial to the view.”

She shakes her head. “I can’t believe I let my daughter take control of my wardrobe. I didn’t even consider how much worse it would be when I sat down.”

“But didn’t you sit down on the drive here?”

“Yeah, but I was wearing a jacket, and everything was covered. Anyway, you won’t offend me if you have a hard time not looking at them, since they’re basically trying to jump out of my bra.”

The server greets us and I’m thankful it’s a young woman, probably college-aged if I had to guess. I’m over forty and struggling to contain my excitement about the cleavage that is very much on display. I can’t imagine a twenty-year-old man-boy would fare much better.

I order another scotch on the rocks, and Skye orders a glass of wine.

“So you work at an accounting firm. How is that?”

“It’s very numbery, which I’m a fan of. It’s stable and I have benefits which is important as a single parent. The company is good about flexing my hours if Violet has a Mathlete competition, so I can attend most of them.”

“I’ve never experienced a Mathlete competition before. What’s that like?”

“Mostly it’s a bunch of super nerdy guys who live and breathe numbers. But Violet’s math teacher begged her in her freshman year to be on the team. She tried to resist; however, they offer some pretty great perks and scholarships to teams with female members. She decided the potential for social ostracism was worth the possible financial aid in the future. She’s nothing if not pragmatic.”

“Well, I think it’s brave and smart.”

“She’s definitely both. And clumsy, but that’s not her fault. She gets that from me.”

The server returns with our drinks and asks if we’d like to order appetizers.

“I’m good with anything apart from dairy. Dairy and I are not friends, and I would prefer not to regret my food choices tomorrow.” Skye makes a face like she didn’t mean to be that honest.

“Got it, no dairy. How do you feel about calamari?”

“I feel good about it, easy to eat and non-dairy.”

“Perfect, we’ll have the calamari to start.”

The server leaves us to put in the order.

“So…you’re a hockey scout. That’s kind of a big deal job, isn’t it? Always searching for the newest talent.” Skye sips her white wine.

“It can be rewarding, especially when I discover a diamond in the rough,” I reply.

She smiles. “You love your job, don’t you?”

I nod. “Yeah, absolutely.”

“Do you play hockey?” She clasps her hand and props her chin on her fingers, effectively cutting off my view of most of her cleavage.

“Recreationally, yeah, and I shoot the puck around with my son. He’s a hell of a lot better than I am, so it’s not much of a challenge for him, but a damn good workout for me.”

Skye’s gaze roves over my shoulders and down my arms. “You’re definitely in great shape.”

“Thanks. Having a teen in competitive sports keeps me active.” I tap the edge of my glass. “Tell me about your hobbies. What do you like to do in your spare time?”

She hums. “I’m an avid reader. My daughter enjoys sewing, so we’ve taken courses together, but I’m not nearly as good at it as she is. I’m not very athletic, I’m afraid. Putting one foot in front of the other without tripping is a win for me most days. I do like to swim, though, since there’s a low chance of tripping or pulling a muscle.” She reaches for her wineglass but doesn’t bring it to her lips. “You’re probably looking for someone more athletic, huh? Like a person who wants to hike wilderness trails with you on weekends. I can’t even skate.” Her throat bobs with a nervous swallow. “I feel like I applied for the wrong job and now my resume is falling short.”

“Hey.” I cover her hand with mine.

Her gaze lifts, and she bites her lips together.

“I spend an inordinate amount of time in an arena, a boardroom and on the ice. It’s my job and I do it for my son because it’s his passion. But if I’m completely honest, the last thing I want is to fill my down time with more physical activity. I’m not looking for a gym buddy. I’d rather see a movie, or hang out and talk, or go for a meal, like we are right now.” I run my thumb across her knuckles. “I want someone I can have fun with, and if you’d like to learn to skate, I’ll gladly teach you.”

She laughs. “I’ll probably need a helmet and full body pads. I’m not exaggerating when I say I’m uncoordinated. I can and have hurt myself during yoga class.”

“That’s a lot of bending your body in ways that aren’t entirely natural.”

“This is true.”

The server drops off the calamari and we order our entrees. Skye chooses the steak and twice-baked potato, and I do the same.

Skye delicately lifts one of the calamari rings with her fork and inspects it for a moment. “Sort of looks like a deep-fried cock ring, doesn’t it?”

I’m in the middle of a sip of scotch and I choke on the liquid. It burns my throat and lungs as tears spring to my eyes and I cough into my napkin.

Her fork clatters to her plate. “Oh my God, I can’t believe those words came out of my mouth. Are you okay?”

I’m still coughing, so she pushes back her chair and comes around to my side of the table, patting me heartily on the back.

“Give me your hands!” She yanks the napkin free and moves to stand beside me. She leans in and takes both of my hands in hers, raising them over my head.

Within a few seconds, my lungs are no longer burning, and the coughing has ceased. I’m also staring directly into Skye’s ample cleavage.

“Are you okay?”

“Better than ever,” I tell her chest.

She releases my hands, and her finger rests under my chin, tipping my head up. My eyes are slow to follow. Her cheeks are tinged pink, but her smirk is all-knowing.

I clear my throat and settle a hand on her hip and squeeze. “I really love this dress.”

The fingers of her free hand skim the back of mine. “Down, boy. We still have to make it through dinner.”

I chuckle as she steps back, nearly trips over her own feet, and almost takes out her wine glass. She recovers, though, and settles in her chair without knocking everything to the floor.

“I’m sorry about that. Sometimes words come out of my mouth before I can think them through.” She places her napkin in her lap again and picks up her fork, popping the ring into her mouth.

“It wasn’t an inaccurate observation.” I dip mine in the sauce and chew thoughtfully.

We make it through the rest of dinner without choking or throwing food off the table. It’s very clear that Skye and her daughter are extraordinarily close, much like me and Miller. We’ve also both spent the past decade and a half focused mainly on being a parent and our jobs. She’s fun, and quirky and grounded.

And sexy. She’s effortlessly attractive, and her dress is literally killing me slowly.

It’s only closing in on nine by the time we finish dinner. “What are your plans for the rest of the evening?”

“Violet is practicing at her teammate's house for their upcoming Mathlete competition next week. I’m picking her up around ten-thirty.”

“It must be nice to know that she’s not out partying.”

Skye lifts a shoulder and lets it fall. “She knows teenage boys are all about themselves, and the ones she hangs out with are incredibly awkward and mostly well behaved. Plus, the parents are both structural engineers, and their idea of a fun night is building a Lego city, so…” Her smile is wry. “What about you? What are your plans for the rest of the evening?”

I set my napkin on the table, smoothing it out nervously. “I don’t want this date to end yet. My house isn’t too far from here if you want to come over for coffee, or tea, or something un-caffeinated.”

Skye’s bottom lip slides between her teeth.

“But I understand if you’re not comfortable with that. We could find a café instead,” I add.

“This dress isn’t café appropriate,” Skye motions to her chest.

I grin. “It might turn some heads.”

“I should probably get the girls out of the public eye for a while. They’ve had enough attention tonight.”

“Right. Of course. I completely understand.” I swallow the disappointment.

“Do you want to put your address in my GPS in case I lose you on the way back to your place?” She hands me her device.

“Oh.” I try to mask my surprise. “Yeah, absolutely.” I quickly type my address into her navigation app and when the check arrives, I pass over my credit card, insistent that I pay the tab since I asked her out.

I walk her to her car. “I’ll see you in about ten minutes. Drive safe.” I hold out my hand and she slips hers into my palm. I kiss her knuckles and she pauses, eyes dipping to my mouth.

She turns and settles her hand on my chest. “Thank you for dinner. It was lovely, apart from when you almost choked to death on your scotch.”

“You saved me, though, so thanks for that.”

“I’ve been thinking,” she murmurs as she fiddles with the collar of my shirt.

“About?” I hope she hasn’t changed her mind about coming to my place.

Her eyes lift. “How much longer I’m going to have to wait to feel your lips on mine again?”

“You don’t have to wait, Skye. You can have them whenever you want.” I drop my head as she tips hers back. We angle at the same time and her arms wind around my neck while mine circle her waist. We part our lips, tongues sweeping out to tangle with each other. I groan and she sighs as we sink into the kiss.

It’s been a damn long time since I’ve been this attracted to a woman, and my erection is instantaneous and nearly painful. Although, to be fair, the cleavage she’s rocking basically gave me a semi for the duration of dinner.

We stand there, making out, until her car dings at her.

“Ugh, stupid car with its stupid annoying alarms,” she huffs.

“My house is less than ten minutes away. We can pick up where we left off. No annoying alarms?” I offer.

“Sounds like the best idea ever.”

I give her another peck on the lips, then help her into her car and rush over to my SUV. I do my very best not to speed excessively, and also to calm my hard-on, but it’s raging now, which, to be honest, isn’t a bad thing at my age.

Skye pulls into the driveway a second after me, and we exit our vehicles at the same time. We lace our fingers together as we walk up the front steps. I punch in the door code and usher her inside, locking it behind us. And then our mouths connect once again.

She wrenches her lips from mine long enough to ask, “Will you respect me less if we get naked on the first date?”

“It’s technically the second date. Will you respect me less for saying no?”

She tips her head and smiles. “Not even a little.”

“Good. Me either.”

Our mouths crash together again, and she shoves my suit jacket over my shoulders.

I let my hands roam over all her luscious curves, pausing to squeeze her ass before they drift higher. My lips travel the edge of her jaw and over her collarbones until I reach the soft swell of her right breast. I skim along the bodice of her dress, where the swell dips below the fabric.

She moans softly, and the sound is echoed a moment later. But the pitch is much higher.

One of her hands is in my hair, the other which is currently curved around my belt buckle freezes. “Did you hear that?” she whispers.

I lean back and arch a questioning brow.

Which is the moment another long, loud moan comes from somewhere in the house. Probably the living room.

Skye’s nose wrinkles. “Did you leave porn on?”