Looking around, I saw that Mike had made an effort. This wasn’t a bachelor pad townhouse he brought his kids to when they came for their time with him. This was their home, a place they could lounge, a place they’d be comfortable and feel safe. I didn’t know a man could do something like that and I didn’t know, in knowing it, that something like that could be so attractive. But it was.
“You have a dog?” I asked.
“Got custody of Layla in the divorce.”
“Layla?”
“Clapton. Great song,” he looked out the windows, “great dog.”
He was right, it was a great song. He had good taste in music.
I looked out the windows to see Layla was now at the door, her tongue still lolling, her body shaking because her tail was wagging so hard.
“She do something to be put into doggie prison?” I asked.
Mike looked at me and asked back, “Pardon?”
“She’s in the yard, there’s a guest, she’s obviously being punished.”
He grinned at me and shook his head. “She’s excitable. I didn’t want her jumpin’ on you,” his head tilted to the side and he finished, “least, not ‘til I got my chance to jump on you.”
There it was, that flutter again.
“You should let her in before she explodes,” I suggested.
“You like dogs?”
“Love ‘em, Keira’s gettin’ her first next week. An American husky.”
“You should go golden,” he advised, walking to the door and Layla was watching him and pacing, her tail still wagging, her tongue still lolling.
“Keira has her heart set,” I replied, he opened the door and Layla burst in. Completely uninterested in her Daddy, she ran straight to me and jumped up the minute she got to me, butting me with her nose, her hind legs bouncing, her front legs pawing at my chest.
“Layla, down,” Mike ordered, his deep voice commanding and she instantly obeyed but she still butted my legs with her head, her body shaking and moving, even though I was bent over her, giving her head a rubdown while trying not to spill my wine on Mike’s nice carpet.
“She’ll calm down as soon as she gets used to your scent,” Mike said, coming back to me.
“She’s okay,” I assured him.
He took my hand and I straightened as he guided me away from Layla and out of the living room, back down the hall to the foyer that I now saw had a door leading to the garage, another to a half bath and a set of stairs. Layla followed or I should say, she eventually led the procession, knocking me into Mike as she forged ahead of us on the stairs then stood at the top, waiting for our arrival, her tongue still out, her face set in the doggie question of, “What’s taking you guys so long?”
We made it to the top and Mike showed me Jonas’s room, Layla sweeping in and running through it like she was an enthusiastic tour guide, and I saw his boy was obviously into music. There was a drum kit set up and a guitar on a stand and the walls could not be seen for all the band posters on them. The bed was unmade and the drawers were open with clothes spilling out.
“He’s not big on pickin’ up his room,” Mike told me.
“I would guess that’s in the Teenage Boy’s Handbook seeing as it’s also in the Adult Man’s Handbook. Gotta train ‘em early.”
Mike chuckled and showed me Clarisse’s room, Layla again running through it even over the bed, which was made. His daughter’s room looked almost identical to Keira’s except not pinks and purples, instead blues and yellows and instead of daisies, there were butterflies and there was not a mixture of boy band and teenage vampire posters, there were only teenage vampires.
I looked up at Mike. “You load your gun with silver bullets?”
“Clarisse tells me that only works on werewolves.”
I burst out laughing and Mike smiled at me before he threw an arm around my shoulders and then he showed me a smaller room with more shelves and a high-backed, black leather swivel chair in front of a large desk with built-in storage and a computer on it. There was a comfortable looking armchair in the corner with a table and a standing lamp beside it. A study for him, for the kids, a private place to be, to do your homework or read. It was nice.
Then he led me out of there and took me down the hall, showing me his room.
That was nicer. It had more French doors, a small, private deck leading off. The room was huge, so was his bed, and his bed was cool as all hell, a dark wood, heavy sleigh bed with a taupe, tan and chocolate paisley comforter. Layla didn’t play tour guide here. She got to Mike’s room, she ran straight up and jumped on the bed, settling on her belly, her head on her paws.
I ignored the dog’s invitation to join her on Mike’s bed and Mike told me there was walk-in closet and showed me the master bath with double basin, separate bath and shower. The bath was bigger than most, oval, sitting in a platform with a step up. The bathroom was enough for me to buy this house. It was awesome, a woman’s dream.
He led me out and I was feeling weird about taking a tour of his bedroom. I hadn’t been on a second date since I was in high school but I was thinking this was unusual.
I felt so weird, I didn’t think before I remarked, “That’s quite a bed.”
“Audrey paid six thousand dollars for that bed,” Mike replied.
I stopped dead and stared up at him.
“What?”
“Yep, six thousand f**kin’ dollars. She loved that bed. Won’t say much for me, honey, but, seein’ as I actually paid for it and I knew she loved it and no way we could sell it and make that cake back, I made certain I got it in the divorce. Our divorce wasn’t pretty, she fought me on everything, had no ground to stand on, lost huge,” he smiled, “lost her f**kin’ bed.”
Since he did pay for it and he should get it and it was a great bed, I smiled back at him.
“Anyway, Clarisse and I got a thing, Scary Movie Friday Night. She’s with me on a Friday, we watch horror movies, bowls of popcorn, tubs of ice cream.” His head tipped to the wall where there was a flat screen TV installed. “Jonas even stoops to join us every once in awhile. Bed’s perfect for Scary Movie Friday Night.”
I thought of Mike with his unknown daughter having a Scary Movie Friday Night, a twelve year old girl watching horror flicks, cuddled up to her big, tall, strong, handsome Dad and I didn’t have a belly flutter. My eyes filled with tears and I looked away.
“Hey,” Mike called.
“You have a dog?” I asked.
“Got custody of Layla in the divorce.”
“Layla?”
“Clapton. Great song,” he looked out the windows, “great dog.”
He was right, it was a great song. He had good taste in music.
I looked out the windows to see Layla was now at the door, her tongue still lolling, her body shaking because her tail was wagging so hard.
“She do something to be put into doggie prison?” I asked.
Mike looked at me and asked back, “Pardon?”
“She’s in the yard, there’s a guest, she’s obviously being punished.”
He grinned at me and shook his head. “She’s excitable. I didn’t want her jumpin’ on you,” his head tilted to the side and he finished, “least, not ‘til I got my chance to jump on you.”
There it was, that flutter again.
“You should let her in before she explodes,” I suggested.
“You like dogs?”
“Love ‘em, Keira’s gettin’ her first next week. An American husky.”
“You should go golden,” he advised, walking to the door and Layla was watching him and pacing, her tail still wagging, her tongue still lolling.
“Keira has her heart set,” I replied, he opened the door and Layla burst in. Completely uninterested in her Daddy, she ran straight to me and jumped up the minute she got to me, butting me with her nose, her hind legs bouncing, her front legs pawing at my chest.
“Layla, down,” Mike ordered, his deep voice commanding and she instantly obeyed but she still butted my legs with her head, her body shaking and moving, even though I was bent over her, giving her head a rubdown while trying not to spill my wine on Mike’s nice carpet.
“She’ll calm down as soon as she gets used to your scent,” Mike said, coming back to me.
“She’s okay,” I assured him.
He took my hand and I straightened as he guided me away from Layla and out of the living room, back down the hall to the foyer that I now saw had a door leading to the garage, another to a half bath and a set of stairs. Layla followed or I should say, she eventually led the procession, knocking me into Mike as she forged ahead of us on the stairs then stood at the top, waiting for our arrival, her tongue still out, her face set in the doggie question of, “What’s taking you guys so long?”
We made it to the top and Mike showed me Jonas’s room, Layla sweeping in and running through it like she was an enthusiastic tour guide, and I saw his boy was obviously into music. There was a drum kit set up and a guitar on a stand and the walls could not be seen for all the band posters on them. The bed was unmade and the drawers were open with clothes spilling out.
“He’s not big on pickin’ up his room,” Mike told me.
“I would guess that’s in the Teenage Boy’s Handbook seeing as it’s also in the Adult Man’s Handbook. Gotta train ‘em early.”
Mike chuckled and showed me Clarisse’s room, Layla again running through it even over the bed, which was made. His daughter’s room looked almost identical to Keira’s except not pinks and purples, instead blues and yellows and instead of daisies, there were butterflies and there was not a mixture of boy band and teenage vampire posters, there were only teenage vampires.
I looked up at Mike. “You load your gun with silver bullets?”
“Clarisse tells me that only works on werewolves.”
I burst out laughing and Mike smiled at me before he threw an arm around my shoulders and then he showed me a smaller room with more shelves and a high-backed, black leather swivel chair in front of a large desk with built-in storage and a computer on it. There was a comfortable looking armchair in the corner with a table and a standing lamp beside it. A study for him, for the kids, a private place to be, to do your homework or read. It was nice.
Then he led me out of there and took me down the hall, showing me his room.
That was nicer. It had more French doors, a small, private deck leading off. The room was huge, so was his bed, and his bed was cool as all hell, a dark wood, heavy sleigh bed with a taupe, tan and chocolate paisley comforter. Layla didn’t play tour guide here. She got to Mike’s room, she ran straight up and jumped on the bed, settling on her belly, her head on her paws.
I ignored the dog’s invitation to join her on Mike’s bed and Mike told me there was walk-in closet and showed me the master bath with double basin, separate bath and shower. The bath was bigger than most, oval, sitting in a platform with a step up. The bathroom was enough for me to buy this house. It was awesome, a woman’s dream.
He led me out and I was feeling weird about taking a tour of his bedroom. I hadn’t been on a second date since I was in high school but I was thinking this was unusual.
I felt so weird, I didn’t think before I remarked, “That’s quite a bed.”
“Audrey paid six thousand dollars for that bed,” Mike replied.
I stopped dead and stared up at him.
“What?”
“Yep, six thousand f**kin’ dollars. She loved that bed. Won’t say much for me, honey, but, seein’ as I actually paid for it and I knew she loved it and no way we could sell it and make that cake back, I made certain I got it in the divorce. Our divorce wasn’t pretty, she fought me on everything, had no ground to stand on, lost huge,” he smiled, “lost her f**kin’ bed.”
Since he did pay for it and he should get it and it was a great bed, I smiled back at him.
“Anyway, Clarisse and I got a thing, Scary Movie Friday Night. She’s with me on a Friday, we watch horror movies, bowls of popcorn, tubs of ice cream.” His head tipped to the wall where there was a flat screen TV installed. “Jonas even stoops to join us every once in awhile. Bed’s perfect for Scary Movie Friday Night.”
I thought of Mike with his unknown daughter having a Scary Movie Friday Night, a twelve year old girl watching horror flicks, cuddled up to her big, tall, strong, handsome Dad and I didn’t have a belly flutter. My eyes filled with tears and I looked away.
“Hey,” Mike called.
