This was a terrible date.  Far and away the worst I'd ever been on, and I'm well-versed in Internet dating, so, I know what I'm talking about.  I've had dates who talked the whole time while I sat there silently screaming at the bartender with my eyes to help me.  I've had a date yell at a waiter until she cried.  I've had a date tell me he only dated women who ordered salads at restaurants, because he liked the "feminine" type.

Tonight's contestant -- Mike -- was a special blend of those three scenarios, which I think makes him the winner.  Of, you know...something.  The icing on the cake with this one is that I let him drive.  I know what you're thinking -- what idiot lets an Internet date pick hr up at her house?  Well, don't worry, I'm not that stupid.  Mike and I were setup by a mutual friend.  At least I thought she was a friend until now.  I'd still been reluctant, but he insisted, and I'm going through a phase where "traditional" men sound really enticing.  I think it is due to a long list of exes who "didn't want anything serious."  But I don't think Mike is traditional.  I think he just needs s a captive date, because otherwise they'd run away before dinner arrived.

So now I'm suffering through another childhood story while the trees zip by; very quickly, actually, now that I'm not so busy pitying myself that I fail to notice.  My eyes flick over to the speedometer to see 90 just before the blue lights start flashing.  I immediately panic, as a law-abiding citizen who rarely gets pulled over does, and Mike slams his fist against the dashboard, as a person with clear anger-management issues does.

His words are quite colorful as we pull off to the shoulder, and I find myself slumping down into the seat.  This night can't get any worse.

"Good evening, sir. License and registration, please."

And the night is officially worse.  Damn...I'm not often accused of being the average woman, but this police officer is easy to look at.  His blue eyes catch mine as Mike rummages through his glove-box, and I have to look away.  I haven't felt this flustered in a long time.  He goes to his cruiser and Mike turns to me, "Hey, do you think you could cry?"

"What? No!"

"Please? For me?" He doesn't even manage to sound sincere.  And then his hand is on my cheek.  Ew.  I swat it away.  I don't particularly like being touched by basic strangers, but definitely not by this goon.  Especially not in front of Officer Charles, who has returned.

He hands Mike a ticket, explains what it is for, and meets my gaze again. "How are you tonight, ma'am?"

"She's fine," Mike mutters, clearly tired of this encounter and disappointed that I wouldn't cry on command.

Those blue eyes don't leave mine.  I summon the ability to nod, "I'm good."  I swear the corner of his mouth pulls up ever-so-slightly in a smile.  He taps the inside of the car door twice before leaving, and suddenly I find myself incredibly attracted to men's fingers.

Remember when...

...Greg he broke a handle off one of the knives in the knife block in the Big Red House so he replaced the handle with a makeshift stick handle? Awesome.

...Liz locked Josh + Zach + their dates out on the 3-season porch, and when Zach ran to the front door she locked that too.  Then as Josh and Zach yelled at us through the double doors, Liz shouted TURNIPS and threw up field-goal arms?  Then Zach came in and went all Azaroth on us.

...Zach almost killed me with the stick from the fire hydrant near the Chem building, thus beginning our friendship?

...Nikki and Hannah were moving me out of my room while me, Ally, Zach, and Liz started a 'band' in Theime house?  Then Benri (Ben Henri) came and yelled at us to be quiet, and Brie called Liz about me being moved out.

...the housekeeping lady who worked out of the room across from Danelle and I wrote 'Nice Reef' on our whiteboard (referring to our x-mas wreath)?

...Chris was supposed to go swimming with sharks in the morning in the Bahamas...then proceeded to not show up/contact us until late at night, only to then tell us that he NEVER went swimming with sharks?

....me, tracy, quyen, and...hmm some 11th grader -- Kha? -- 'forked' the lawn outside school and then a white SUV pulled into the band alley, only to then turn around and follow us?  We ran like hell because we were sure it was the police but it turned out to be Paul Villamill haha.

...Shayna Mendendorp was in the school talent show and did baton with a table leg?
 

Will n Tess

Tess crept down the hall, high heels in hand so she wouldn’t make too much noise on the hardwood floor.  It was well past midnight and the entire estate was dark.  The last thing she wanted to do was wake up the Lord of the house.  Who knows what sort of reaction that would cause.  After getting reprimanded yesterday, Tess figured she would be walking on egg shells for quite a while.

She had nearly made it to her room when she noticed a muted glow coming from the room across the hall; Will’s study.  He had probably forgotten to turn off the light when he finished working for the night.  She began to push the door open and was startled to see Will seated in a large leather chair in the corner.

Taking a quick step back, Tess nearly ran the rest of the way to her room when something made her stop.  Peeking around the oak doorframe, she took a better look. 

Will’s tie was loosened, his shirt-sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and he was slouching.  The first two could be explained away as part of his I’m-going-to-look-extremely-sexy-to-drive-Tess-crazy campaign—of which he knew nothing, of course.  But the slouching concerned her.  William Bailey was nothing if not proper.  Judging by the way he was staring intently at the wall, seemingly lost in his own world, something was wrong.  She opened her mouth but then closed it.  There was a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the end table.  If practically growing up in a bar had taught her one thing it was that when a man drank whiskey and looked like hell, he probably didn’t want to talk about it.

Tess had become so engrossed in the scene before her, that she had forgotten about her heels, and when she went to turn, they smacked into the wall.

Will’s eyes were on her immediately.  Slowly, he stood, his hands sliding into the pockets of his black dress slacks.  “You’re home late.”

Stepping into the room, she nodded, swallowed hard, “Yes.”

“Date go well?”

Surprised, she met his gaze.  How did he know she was on a date? 

As if he could read her mind, he gestured towards the shoes. “You don’t usually wear heels.”

For a moment she allowed herself to bask in the idea that he took notice of her shoes.  When that moment was done, she mentally chastised herself.  “He wasn’t worth wearing the heels.”

A hint of a smile tugged one side of his mouth up and he rocked onto the ball of his foot.  “Not your type of bloke?” 

Tess, mesmerized by this candid version of Will, found herself at a loss for words and settled for a nearly imperceptible shake of her head.  His gaze settled on hers, and she realized once again what a perfect combination of clear blue and slate gray his eyes were.  “What is your type, Tess?”

His voice was low and gravelly. 

--------------------------

                Will knew he was being inappropriate.  But damn if he cared right now.  Maybe it was the whiskey.  Maybe it was the fact that it was his dead wife’s birthday.  Or maybe it was the woman standing in front of him—the woman who looked incredible in that short black skirt.  Not that it took a short skirt to get him to notice her.  Hell, he’d noticed her whether she was wearing wellies and a raincoat, an apron, or those ridiculous sweatpants that all the Yank girls wore—the ones with PINK across their bottom.

He was just very good at being the proper gentleman. 

Upon hearing his question, he expected her teeth to begin worrying her lower lip and her eyes to stray to the floor.  She seemed to do that a lot in his presence. 

To his surprise, her eyes grew a bit playful and she took another step into his study.  “Is this a roundabout way of asking if temperamental Brits with dark hair and gray-blue eyes are my type?”

He frowned.  “Is that how you see me?  Temperamental?”

He could practically see her bravado drain along with the color in her face, “I didn’t—I mean…no, you—it was meant to be a joke.  A bad one, obviously…It wasn’t funny.” 

And now her teeth were worrying her lip.  She began to take a step back but Will stopped her with a hand gesture.  “I wasn’t always, you know?  Temperamental, that is.”  He could tell she wasn’t going to touch that statement herself, so he continued, “I used to be considerably more laid-back.  I apologize for being such an ogre sometimes.”

At that, her gaze lifted, and in it he saw what he could not deal with: pity.  He had seen that look from so many people after Lisa passed.  From friends, relatives, and people in town who hadn’t even known him before the accident.  The last thing he wanted was for Tess to—

“I don’t blame you.”  She had come even closer.  So close that if he wanted to, he could reach up and tuck that rogue curl back behind her ear.  But he had become paralyzed by her words.  Nobody, in all of their attempts to ease his grief, had said that they didn’t blame him for becoming withdrawn.  Her eyes searched his, and she continued, “If I were in your position I don’t think I could have kept myself together.  You…you’re an amazing businessman.  People respect you.  Me?  I would’ve locked myself in my room and only left in order to go get more Ben and Jerry’s.”     

He gave a tight smile, “People don’t respect me, Tess—they’re scared of me.”

-------------------------------

                Well, she couldn’t deny that one.  But that forlorn look on his face made her try.  “You just need to have fun, Will.  You’re always thinking of work, or Cami, or the estate.  Do more for yourself.  Do what you would do if nothing bad had ever happened.”

                Something flashed in his eyes, and she shivered under his gaze.  His thumb grazing her chin.  “Tess?”

                “Yes?” She swallowed hard.  What was wrong with her?  Did the room just become clogged with ridiculous amounts of pheromones or is it just me?

                “I want to be a man.  Not your boss.  Not a widower.  Not Cami’s dad.  Just…me.”

                “Okay.”

                “Tess?”

                “Will!”

                “What?”

                “Kiss me.”

----------------------------------

Tess idly watched the bubbles on the pancakes burst—the batter slowly sinking in to fill the new hole.  Flashes of the night before zipped through her mind like a racy movie trailer.  Will, with his perfect jaw and long lashes, tipping her lips up to meet his.  Him carrying her—carrying her!—to his bedroom.  The clunk of her shoes hitting the floor before they began the frenzied race to undress one another.   And then being with Will.  Funny how all of those times she imagined what it would be like weren’t anywhere close to reality.

She bit back a smile at the memory of how he’d laughed heartily at her astonished look after he’d playfully smacked her butt.  He had been surprisingly lighthearted.

Still, she had no idea what things would be like this morning.  Maybe he would come up behind her, place his hands on her hips, and kiss the side of her neck.  Or maybe he would stay in his office all day.  She frowned at the thought. 

“Dad! Tess made pancakes!  I to-ld you I smelled something lovely.”

Expertly flipping a pancake, Tess turned, smile in place.  “I made them because today is such a special day.  A girl has to have a good breakfast if she’s going to stay up all night for her first slumber party.”

Will gave her a sidelong glance that clearly expressed his disapproval at the idea of such a thing.  He was clean shaven in a crisp white button down and dark pants; creating a stark contrast to the tousled man she’d slipped away from just hours before.  For just a moment she thought his eyes went all molten, as if he could read her thoughts, but Cami hopped up on a bar-stool before she could inspect further.  “Can I have a Mickey pancake, Miss Tess?”

“Absolutely,” she nodded, bringing over a plate and syrup.  “What about you, Will? Would you like a Mickey?”

He looked up from the paper he was pretending to be very interested in.  “No thank you.  Just a tea.”

Riley

“Auntie Rye, I neeb muh babpab!”

“Kendall, honey, Auntie can’t understand you with your toothbrush in your mouth!”

“Sobbi!” Appearing in the kitchen, Kendall pulls the bright pink Barbie toothbrush out of her mouth and  heaves an over-dramatic sigh. “I need my backpack, Auntie Rye.”

For a moment she frantically looks around the kitchen before snapping her fingers, stepping over to the refrigerator.  One yank later, she pulls the backpack off the bottom shelf.  Kendall giggles, head falling back towards the ceiling. “Aunt Rye you’re so funny. What was my backpack doing in the fridge?”

“I wanted your lunch to stay cold. And I wanted to keep the lunch and the backpack together. I didn’t want us to forget one of them!”

Kendall shakes her head in a move that she had to have learned from an adult.  Once she marches back to the bathroom, Riley does a quick glance around the room.  She has the permission slip for the zoo.  The backpack/lunch combo.  Her own lunch.  Sunglasses, sunscreen, and her favorite Michigan State baseball hat. 

Ha! Riley smiles to herself. This parenting thing isn’t too hard. I could do this more often.  Every day, even!  Heck, I could even have several of these munchkins tromping around the house.  I’d be supermom with the power to co— 

“Aunt Riley, what’s for breakfast?”

Woops…

 “How about…” Quickly, Riley snags a box of oatmeal cookies from the counter.  “Oatmeal breakfast…circles!”

“Cool!”  Riley takes three, slips her backpack on, and heads for the door.

Maybe I ought to re-think that supermom thing. Forgetting breakfast? Sheesh, Riley.

Britt n Jase

The first time I saw Jase? Well, I don’t remember much about that night.  There were too many new people and I was nervous. 

But I do remember the first time I saw Jase.  I was standing on a curb, and he’d just taken a step onto the pavement.  I was trying to ignore the fact that Sandy had turned on her reporter voice with some guy she was interrogating as we walked—the voice that sounded like it should cost $2.95/minute.  I realized that Jase was just as tall as me…even though the curb had him at a good three-inch disadvantage.  As my eyes scanned down from the top of his head to his shoulders, I noticed how broad they were, and how his T-shirt stretched nicely around his upper arm.  I wondered how his skin would feel under my fingertips.

The moment was ruined by the man himself, “Hey…dork…are you coming?”

And I was.  I was coming to realize that I had a crush on Jase Anderson.

Britt N Jase

Britt rounded the side of the house , the sounds of Latin music growing more faint with every step.  She felt a little guilty leaving so early.  They had just broken out the s’mores—her favorite.  Still, she did work early the next morning, and had unpacking left to do.  Surely Angela understood.

                Nobody else knew that part of the reason she was so anxious to leave was because of—

                “Britt!”

                Her stride faltered.  Her shoulders fell.  Turning slowly, she saw Jase stalking across the lawn.  “Heey.  I was just heading out.”

                “Yuh, I know.  Ange and the others told me.  Why didn’t you?”

                A slight shrug was all she could muster.  Jase had started to exhaust her.  “You were on the phone.”

                With an indignant bark of laughter, his fists went onto his hips.  “Something tells me that was strategic on your part.”

                Because everything is about you?  She withheld the comment, thinking better of it.  “I’m not mad at you, Jase.”

                “Really?  Because you’ve been pretty short with me all night.  Are you in a mood?”

                “No!” Her stance became as defensive as his.  “You always think I’m in a “mood” and I’m not.”

                “Ok.” He lets out a breath, pinches the bridge of his nose.  “I just feel like something has changed between us.”

                For days. And weeks. Probably months, if she would admit it to herself, Britt had been keeping her feelings for Jase tamped down.  Every little zing she felt when his arm brushed hers when they were playing cards with the group.  Each time her pulse jumped when his eyes met hers across a room and they shared a half-smile, knowing exactly what the other was thinking.  She told herself they meant nothing.  Had started to believe that; almost.  And here he was, when she was just starting to get over him, asking what had changed?  As if he didn’t know?  It was too much.

                “Yes, Jason.” She threw her hands up carelessly, “Yes. You’re right. Things are different.  Things are different because after all of the games we’ve played with one another, we kissed.  And not just once…a lot of times.  You instigated that.  And then you played the ‘oh, I hope you didn’t take that more seriously than me’ card.  As if I’m some pansy piece of crap who has never done anything spontan—”

                Startled, and thrown off balance by Jase pulling her flush against him, Britt’s hands fisted in his shirt. Jase’s anger was apparent by the roughness of his kiss.  He pulled back just as quickly as he’d grabbed her, “Is that what you wanted?  Are you happy now?”

                For the first time, looking into his eyes, Britt hated Jase.  Sure she’d joked about it before—she’d even tried to make it be true.  But now she knew it never had been; because now it was.  She did the only thing that felt right at that moment. 

                She slapped him.

                And before he turned his eyes back on her, she walked to her car and drove away.