4
Life is basically one big blur until my day off on Wednesday. Managing two ridiculously difficult courses on top of working thirty hours a week tends to speed up time, but that's okay—it puts me closer to my associate's degree, that moment I can truly celebrate my accomplishment and know I got here on my own. I force my eyeballs into my Intro to Finance book. I can't decide if this is better or worse than Cost Accounting, but at least some of these terms are familiar. I feel like I'm going through the motions with my homework. My mind keeps wandering to its new happy place—Edward.
True to his word, Edward has stayed away from Hooters—not that I would have minded his presence one little bit—and hasn't attempted another phone conversation. I'd expected no less from the man, once he'd given his word. What surprises me about Edward over the next four days is his serious texting game. He's sweet and flirty, but there's more to it than that. He cares about my thoughts and opinions and my safety, and he shares just enough about himself to keep me hungry for more.
He's dropped a few hints about his profession: not a typical nine-to-five; he's his own boss; it's something he's passionate about. Earlier this afternoon when I prodded him for details, he texted me: "Let's see how the night goes…" The man knows how to tease, all right, but tonight is the Edward at the end of my tunnel. Oh wow, that sounded dirty.
He won't say where we are going, but assures me jeans will be appropriate. I pair my dressiest jeans with a long tunic top, dangle earrings, and my fringy, brown suede boots. It's an interesting reversal to dress more conservatively for a date than I do for work. I barely touch my face with makeup and leave my hair to its own devices—it falls long and wavy halfway down my back. Flirty but not overtly sexy, youthful but not too young for him, I hope.
I head downstairs with plenty of time to spare. Edward would never keep a lady waiting, and I intend to show him the same courtesy. My housemate looks up from her dinner.
"Well, don't you look pretty!"
"Thanks, Mrs. Cope. You can just leave the dishes. I'll take care of them when I get home."
She waves my offer away. "Don't be silly. What time is your gentleman caller arriving?"
"He should be here in about fifteen minutes. He's looking forward to meeting you."
In fact, Edward had insisted on it after I told him about Mrs. Cope. Two years ago, I'd bombed out of USF for good, and my parents had stuck to their guns—no more allowance. I was tending bar five nights a week, but my savings dried up over the next six months, and my roommates were too stretched to cover my share of the rent on top of their own. I was literally twenty-four hours away from moving back home with my parents when I happened to see a new posting on Craigslist that looked way too good to be true:
HOUSEMATE WANTED FOR ELDERLY WOMAN.
FREE ROOM & BOARD IN EXCH FOR GROCERY SHOPPING,
FOOD PREP, LIGHT HOUSEKEEPING AND MAINTENANCE.
NON-SMOKER, NO LOUD MUSIC, NO PARTIES, NO DRUGS.
I answered the ad though my cooking repertoire at the time consisted of ramen and grilled cheese. I was more than ready to leave the parties behind, so that part was the least of my challenges. The biggest turned out to be Mrs. Cope, herself.
Not that she wasn't perfectly warm and lovable—because she was, right off the bat—but she couldn't seem to accept the idea that a "young woman with my looks would want to hole herself up with some old lady in the 'burbs." She'd lost her husband after a long, terrible illness. Her remaining family—two sons on the east coast—visited dutifully a few times a year, but Mrs. Cope didn't want to live alone. She also didn't want to be driven out of her home.
I managed to convince her to give me a chance, and we celebrated the night I moved in with a couple of filets I threw on the grill (after replaying the YouTube video until I had the instructions committed to memory), a baked potato we split down the middle, and the best Caesar salad I ever made. Mrs. Cope was thrilled. I was determined. She laid out her expectations, and I met every one. Basically, Mrs. Cope and I saved each other.
The doorbell rings—eight minutes early—and my heart leaps into my throat. Mrs. Cope smiles as she gets up to answer the door. "Want me to give him the third degree?" she asks. "I can, you know."
"Yes, I remember, and no, thank you."
She squeezes my arm as she passes me. "Honey, I'm kidding. I won't scare your man away."
I watch from a safe distance as she opens the door. There stands Edward, looking handsome as ever in a crisp, white, short-sleeved button-down hanging just so over a pair of dark dress jeans. In his hand, a bouquet of bright daisies spills over a white ribbon with pink polka-dots. My heart.
"Well, hello. I'm guessing you're Edward."
"Yes, ma'am." His soft chuckle warms my insides. It's only been five days since I last saw him, but I somehow managed to forget how gooey he makes me feel. "These are for you."
Edward's gaze darts in my direction, and he shoots me a wink—so I don't feel left out, I suppose.
"Oh! How lovely!" Mrs. Cope presses her hand to her heart as she takes the flowers. "Aren't they lovely, Bella?"
"They are." I smile at Edward. He smiles back.
I move toward the doorway, unsure how to greet him, exactly. We're not on hugging terms, but shaking hands would just be weird. I opt for the ever-awkward, "Hi."
Somehow, when he says it back, those gunmetal gray eyes locking onto mine as if we're all alone in the room, the two little letters hold all the promise of a magical night. "Hi."
Mrs. Cope gives me a gentle shove out the door. "You two have a lovely evening, now."
Edward shakes her hand. "You too. Very nice to meet you, Mrs. Cope."
I turn to tell her goodbye, but she's already shutting the door behind me. I can't help it, I laugh.
He turns an amused grin on me. "What?"
"Mrs. Cope is toast. You know that, right?"
"She's very sweet."
Edward's hand comes to rest on my back as he guides me toward the car and opens the passenger door for me. I can't say I remember any of my previous dates ever doing that. I can't take my eyes off his expression while he makes sure I'm tucked safely inside before closing the door. This old-school treatment is definitely growing on me, and judging by the little smirk on his face when he climbs behind the steering wheel, I think Edward knows it, too.
"Hey, if you have a car, why were you riding the bus the other day?"
"First of all, I love walking in the rain. I find that soft drumroll of rain on my umbrella very peaceful. In fact, if Shady Acres weren't so far away, I would have walked the whole way there. And secondly, getting in my car and traveling from point A to point B is efficient, but I don't get to interact with new people. I would never have met you, for example."
"You would have met me when you came into Hooters."
"I think we've already established why I went to Hooters." Yes, we have, but it's so much fun to hear you admit it again.
Edward starts the engine and reaches for the gear shift between us. "You know what I just realized?" he asks me, a wide, wondrous grin on his face. "This is the first time we've actually been alone together. No bus people, no Hooters customers, no chaperone. Just you and me."
"You do realize there are going to be other people at the restaurant? Maybe we should just sit here in the driveway all night."
His eyes narrow just the slightest bit, enough to send a shockwave through my system. "Good point. Next time, I'm cooking for you."
He leaves me to ponder that delicious scenario as the car starts down the driveway. Edward and I, alone, in his house, shoes kicked off, wine glasses filled, candles lit, romantic music piping in, a hot man slaving over hot coals for me...
"What'd you make for Mrs. Cope tonight? It smelled good."
"Just a stir-fry, nothing fancy."
"Do you usually eat together?"
"Sometimes but not always. She's never pressed me to sit down to dinner together, but if the timing works out with my job and classes, we enjoy each other's company. And I like the dishes she's taught me to make."
"It seems like a perfect arrangement."
"I know it's a little weird, considering the age difference, but we respect each other's space, and we've honestly become good friends."
He chuffs. Whoops.
"Edward, you do know she's old enough to be your mother, right?"
"It's okay, Bella. I don't think it's any great secret I'm older than you."
"Well, it was." I smile when he looks over at me. "Should we talk about this?"
"I'm happy to talk about anything you want."
Do I want to open this can of worms right now? On the first moments of our first date? What the hell. I suppose it's better to know what I'm getting myself into sooner rather than later.
"Okay, I guess I do have a question for you."
His concentration never leaves the windshield but I can see the smile edging up his cheek. "Go for it."
I'm not sure what it is about being with Edward in person that makes him so much easier to talk to than our awkward attempt at phone conversation, but I do feel as if I could ask him anything right now and he would give me a straight answer without being offended. "Are all of the women you date much younger than you?"
"Wow. You went right there." He glances over at me, and I can see his expression is still amusement, which is a tremendous relief. "I've dated women my age, younger women, and even women older than me. I am an equal opportunity dater."
"Sounds like you've dated a lot of women."
He shakes his head with a dark chuckle. "I cannot win here, can I?"
"I'm just teasing you. Thanks for answering."
"Welcome. And you, Bella? Do you have a thing for older guys?"
"No," I answer a bit too quickly, drawing a raised eyebrow from Edward. "I mean, I don't have some kind of fetish."
He bursts out laughing. "I suppose I asked for that." I shrug. "Would you like to ask how old I am?"
I've got him pegged for early forties, at least a good, safe decade younger than Dad. "Actually, I'd rather know if you're seeing anyone right now."
"Yes," he says, turning my direction long enough to add, "you."
And I melt. But I'm not quite ready to let him off the hook. "Is that it?"
"Unless you want to count my mother."
"Ewww, no." We both chuckle.
The air stills again.
"And you?" There's just enough gravity in his tone to let me know he cares about my answer.
"Nope."
The beautiful smile that breaks across his cheeks says it all. "Okay, then."
"Okay, then," I echo more to myself than to Edward.
A contented silence stays with us until we reach the restaurant.
###
Author's Note: Don't you just love a good contented silence? Sigh.
I would like to thank Pa Trizia 88 for hopping on board to help me expand this story. You'll see some of the new stuff kick in big time around chapter 7, and I'm excited to say I've already almost doubled the original story length (and character depth) with the new chappies! I hope you'll stick with this version and enjoy the changes, large and small, as they come your way.
Thanks so much for your sweet notes on these two. They are a pleasure to write and rewrite for you! MWAH!
XXX ~BOH
