We did pancakes, we went into the Village, we had lunch then we headed home. Riding the high that was being with Hop and his kids, not to mention Hop coming to my rescue in a Dodge Ram the night before, I asked if they wanted to stick around when they dropped me off at my place and I’d make them dinner.
To this offer, I got two enthusiastic replies from the back of the cab and one eye slide complete with sexy, warm grin from the driver’s seat. I took this as ringing endorsement for my idea. I also didn’t try to stop myself from processing how nice that felt.
I didn’t have food so we stopped by the grocery store before we went to my house. Hop dragged my suitcase upstairs while the kids alternately explored and chattered to me and I made chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes, thick white gravy with loads of pepper and green beans. Since I didn’t have time, I cheated on the key lime pie and made the pie my grandmother taught me how to make, “When you’re in a pinch, sugar plum.” That was, frozen lime juice concentrate mixed with Cool Whip, tossed into a premade graham cracker crust and chilled. It didn’t hold a candle to the real thing but, like Mamaw said, it did in a pinch or at least the way Hop, Molly and Cody wolfed it down, it seemed to.
Dinner was another revelation of all things Hop.
After taking my suitcase upstairs, he, like his kids, explored my house.
But there was something sweet and strangely profound in the way he did it. So much so, I found my eyes wandering to him and I found that warmth around my heart growing.
This was because I caught sight of him holding the framed picture of me and Lis. We were in profile, our foreheads pressed together, looking in each other’s eyes, smiling huge, clearly close and loving. When Hop was looking at it, his lips were curved up in a sexy smile, his eyes were soft, his expression something I felt like a physical touch. The same with the picture of Ty-Ty and me, both in little black dresses, both sitting at a swank bar, both holding a martini glass, both laughing so hard our heads were thrown back. The same when he ran one of his long fingers down the fake fur of the stuffed black panther I had on my couch. It was my aunt’s. She’d died young, but before she died she gave Lis and me a lot of loving. When she died, that panther was the only thing of hers I wanted. I got it and I kept it right on my couch so I could see it every day.
I could tell, because he didn’t hide it, that Hop liked having the opportunity to get to know me better by taking in the things I kept around me.
And I liked it that Hop liked it.
Another revelation was Hop and his kids eating my cooking. The kids just liked it, were polite enough to say so, but their enthusiasm while eating said it better.
For Hop, if there was a test to pass with him, the way he ate my food, I knew I’d passed it. But it was the way he looked at me after he took his third bite, the expression on his face taking all of my attention, his lips muttering, “Good food, babe,” that I knew it was less a compliment and more a revelation about me that he liked.
A whole lot.
And I liked that too.
Because of the kids, we didn’t get to make out when they left. We did get to have phone sex later because of Hop.
He called late. I answered on the first ring.
He opened with, “Not gonna push, lady. Not a good time to share over the phone and I want you to share when you’re ready to do it, but just wanna know, you good?”
I liked knowing he wasn’t going to push but still wanted to make sure I was okay.
“I’m good and, thanks for coming to my rescue and giving me a good day so it would take my mind off things.”
“One way or another, babe, got your back,” he replied, then he moved us out of the heavy and into the fantastic when he told me to cup my breast.
He gave me an orgasm and then gave me a warning before he rang off. “Now you owe me again. Tomorrow night, lady.”
This meant I went to sleep relaxed, happy, and looking forward to the next day.
I woke up refreshed.
After a weekend with my parents that included a blowout with my dad, this was a miracle.
And I owed it all to Hopper Kincaid.
Therefore, letting him in further, I called him that day at work.
He answered in one ring. “Lady.”
“Hey. Things good?” I asked.
“Kids are gone, which is not good. Took ’em to school so they’ll do the switchover without me havin’ to see their mom, which is good. And got plans with my woman tonight and that’s definitely good.”
This was an excellent answer.
I didn’t tell him that. I told him, “I need to know the dress code tonight.”
“The dress code is, you wear what you want. You work anything you put on,” he told me.