“She’s not really a friend, she just tags along when she’s not fucking anyone.”
He nodded and handed me an envelope with more paperwork. “Health records. Clean as a whistle.”
A whistle I’d like to blow.
“Are you on the pill?” he asked quietly.
I nodded. “The one where you get it four times a year.”
His eyes widened. “That’s a medical miracle,” he joked. He looked somewhat relieved.
We laughed some more, and talked casually about places we had been in the area. I was astounded he had never had brunch at the Friendly Toast. “Can I buy you a drink?” I asked. There were so many great bars in Portsmouth, plus it’s always fun to show off a gorgeous hunk on a weeknight.
“I’m going to politely decline, if I may,” he said. “I planned to check in at work for an hour, and then I’d like to prepare for our scene.”
“So you do work?” I asked, intrigued. “But only for an hour at a time?”
He stood. “I own a chain of nursing homes throughout New England. I pop into the New Hampshire ones from time to time, just to make sure everything’s looking good and the residents are happy.”
“That’s really sweet,” I confessed, not liking the warm feeling this was giving me. He loves old people? I wondered. Does he also rescue puppies from burning buildings?
“I have to do a little planning for a show. I hired a jazz trio to play there tomorrow evening, which is part of the reason I’m going. Actually, I’d love for you to join me—after our scene, of course. They’re always eager for someone new to talk to.”
“I don’t really listen to jazz.”
He pursed his lips. “That doesn’t necessarily mean you wouldn’t like it.”
“I just don’t know anything about it.”
William reached down and picked a flower from the small garden to the right of our bench. “Do you like this flower?”
“Yeah,” I said, appraising the soft pink petals. “It’s pretty. Why?”
“Do you know what kind of flower it is?”
I shook my head. “No clue.”
“See?” he asked. “You can appreciate something without knowing anything about it. Come see the jazz with me.” He took my hand.
My stomach tightened. This was far too normal. “No thanks.” I smiled to soften the blow.
He nodded, unfazed. “I’ll just have to appreciate the beauty of the music since I won’t have you by my side.”
I cleared my throat. “Well, then, William, I’ll see you tomorrow.” I tried to keep my cool as my insides began to melt.
He bent and kissed my forehead and began to leave. “I’ll be counting the hours,” he said, walking away. He stopped about three feet from me and turned around. “Mistress Cherry.”
I didn’t waste any time once I got home.
Tomorrow, Mr. Freeze was coming over and the house had to be clean.
So, I put on some punk music and cleaned my house like a motherfucker—it sure as hell was a lot more fun to listen to than jazz. Then again, I probably would just be ogling William if I went to the old folks’ home instead of appreciating the tunes. I tried to put away the thought of the semi-date he proposed, and focused on my music. I bopped along to the beats, dusting, sweeping, and throwing in some sexy moves here and there. Thank God my broom didn’t have eyes; poor guy would be scandalized.