An overweight sweaty man walked in, paused at the door then marched over to her table. He said something that made her smile shyly. She gestured as she offered him a seat then focused her attention on the man.
Well,
he thought,
more than one date this evening.
He chuckled to himself.
That is precisely what I would have done. Very practical.
And he moved to the seat around the corner of the bar where he could enjoy without being so obvious.
Her date arrived five minutes late. That was a strike against him. He brought her a rose. Nice touch. But it was red. Common. Lacking imagination. The date wore on until she swore she could feel every second of the interminable hour and a half ticking slowly by. She tried to focus on him, hear what he was saying, but at the moment, she was distracted by the growing beads of sweat accumulating over his lip, precariously close to dropping into his cavernous mouth. Strangely enough, despite the pile of napkins in the center of the table, he hadn’t even attempted to dab, or mop. And the mother in Hannah was dangerously close to doing it for him.
She glanced at her watch. It was 6:50. This date had to end. Her next meeting was on the verge of taking place and this guy, who could never be in the running regardless of what he offered her, had to go.
“Well, it was really nice meeting you,” Hannah began, completely interrupting him.
“Oh,” he said. “Oh, oh.”
Hannah rose as though to go. “I need to use the ladies’ room and then I have…plans.” She fidgeted with her left ear lobe, an obvious sign that she was lying to anyone who knew her. This jerk didn’t. In fact, he hadn’t even tried to get to know her. Instead, he had spent the time boasting about his life, what he had to offer a woman. Given the fact that he’d barely let her get two words in edgewise the entire evening, she was certain he would mistake her lobe fiddling as a flirtation.
“So, when can I see you again?” His eyes sparkled as he eyed her figure.
Never!
Her mind shouted, but outwardly she simply said, “Leave me the best way to contact you and I’ll let you know once I’ve made a decision.” She had heard her boss say that numerous times to prospective employees. It always worked with them. And Hannah had no reason to believe that it would fail on this occasion.
The man rose awkwardly to his feet and leaned in to kiss her cheek before he passed her a business card and strode away. As soon as his back was turned, she swiped at her cheek, certain his slippery kiss was a combination of saliva and sweat. Hannah sighed. It had only been a partial lie. She really did need to pee. And definitely check her makeup. That’s what women did on dates, right? It had been so long and she was so grossly out of practice that she no longer knew how to act in such a social situation.
Her second date arrived right on schedule. Punctuality was a plus. He looked as though he had walked right off the cover of GQ. Plus. And minus. She sighed.
He smiled warmly showcasing a perfect set of even pearly white teeth. Her eyebrow shot up quizzically. She couldn’t stand men who spent more time on themselves than she did. And as the mother of four-year-old twins, she was lucky she found time to shave her legs and pits.
“My name is Tad,” he began, reaching for her hand. Hannah went in for the shake, but he turned her hand over and kissed just above her knuckles seductively.
She pasted a smile on her face. Great. Another playboy. “Hannah,” she said seriously.
Tad had exhibited a sense of humor, a moderate amount of intelligence, a good deal of interest, and more than a healthy amount of vanity. By
eight twenty-five, Hannah was tapping impatiently. Again, she worried over how to end this date in time for her third dud to show up. She tried subtle. But the ‘well it was nice meeting you’ line went right over his head. Instead, Tad had reached across the table and caressed her hand as though it was some sort of invitation. She squirmed. “I really must be going,” she said and moved to rise from the table.
Tad grabbed her arm. Initially she was shocked by his audacity. She whirled to face him and immediately wanted to slap the look off his face. This was a man who was used to getting his way. “Let go,” she said through gritted teeth.
Instantly, Gavin sat up straighter on his bar stool. He might just have to blow his cover and go to her aid. Other than the fact that she was soon to be the object of his revenge, he really had nothing against her. And he never could condone a man making unwanted advances on a woman. Just as he rose from his seat, however, a new man entered the picture.
He watched in fascination as the man dispatched the cad effortlessly with a grace that seemed natural. Gavin sat down and took another swig of his scotch.
“Yeah, I thought she was really going to get what’s coming to her,” a distinctly male voice to his right commented.
“I beg your pardon?” Gavin said, confused.
“Oh, sorry. I’ve been watching her,” he said gesturing to the woman at the table. “There has been a regular parade of men through here over the last few hours.”
“Oh, yes. That,” Gavin said, returning his attention to his drink.
“I mean, she looks perfectly innocent, right? Well, looks can be deceiving I guess.” The guy dipped another soggy fry in ketchup and stuffed it into his mouth.
Moments before, Gavin also might have thought the worst of her, but there was something sweet about her, something that made him want to step in and protect her. He sighed. He had been far too long without the comforts of a woman.
Her third date saved her. Hannah sighed. He had smoky gray eyes and dark brown hair. He looked at her with concern that made her stomach kind of twist about. It wasn’t attraction exactly, but she knew this guy was different. This was someone she could talk to.
“Thank you,” she began breathlessly. Cocking her head to the side, she studied him. He seemed ill at ease. Could he really be just as nervous as she was, a real person, just like her? “I was going to head to the ladies’ room, but I can wait.” She slid back into the booth and gestured for him to sit opposite her.
Her third date wasn’t bad looking. He had boyish good looks, and perceptive eyes. Hannah could feel them boring into her, studying her every move. “I know what you’re thinking,” she began quietly. His eyebrows quirked and he opened his mouth, but she shook her head and continued. “I really am a nice girl,” she said with a shrug. “I have just had a terrible run of bad luck.”
“Tell me about it,” he said seriously, staring at her as though to memorize everything about her. Sensing her hesitation, he added, “Call me Rick.”
Tilting her head to one side, she nodded. “Okay…Rick.” She sighed. “Can I first begin by saying that I am not trying to rouse your sympathy? Please understand that like everyone else, my wounds are mostly self-inflicted.” His eyebrows knit together and he began to protest.
“No, really. It’s true.” Hannah smiled shyly. “I chose Brett, my almost ex-husband. I loved him and trusted him and believed him. I let him handle our finances and I blindly went to work and deposited my check and concentrated on keeping up our apartment and raising the girls.” She swallowed hard to control her emotions. “And I believed him when he said that he was working late, unfortunately he was working late on a stripper. They are currently living together, by the way. And I even went away for the weekend with my folks over Labor Day, unwittingly allowing
him
to labor over emptying our apartment and accounts.”
“Oh, Hannah,” he murmured and tried to reach across the table to comfort her.
She stiffened immediately and sniffled. “I don’t want your sympathy, Rick. I don’t want anyone’s sympathy. I’ve been as strong and resourceful as I could possibly be to hold it together for this long. Brett doesn’t give me any child support or alimony. I am over-educated and underemployed.” Her chin dropped and her eyes no longer met his. “All I need is a leg up, not a hand out. I need a place to stay while I pull it together. I keep a nice house, cook amazing meals, and can carry on intelligent conversation…when I get to speak with adults, that is.” Her eyes were shining now; sparkling with intensity as she gave the pitch she had practiced. “It doesn’t have to be a lifelong commitment. It could be on a month to month basis, or a trial period.”
Rick began sinking in his seat. He had a sense about people that had never been wrong. It was part of his job to ferret out fact from fiction. Of course he was also supposed to be unbiased, but his heart went out to this woman. And he was absolutely not what she was looking for.
Hannah paused. Maybe she came on too strong, too brutally honest. He was pulling away. She could sense it. She may have missed all the signs in Brett, but since that experience she had grown more aware more alert. “I guess I sound as desperate as I am,” she mumbled. “Don’t give me an answer tonight. Just think about it, please.” She reached into her purse. “This is my phone number…until the end of the month,” she shrugged.
Frowning, Rick took it. “I really do want to help you,” he began quietly. “Let me think on it, okay?” He slid out of the booth, and stood at the end of the table staring at her. She was really attractive and far more fragile than she let on. There was a tightness around her mouth that belied the stress she was under, the dark smudges under her eyes attested to her lack of rest. He sighed and grasped her hand for a moment, determined to leave her with some measure of comfort. “You will hear from me,” he said then he turned and walked away.
Hannah stared after him. He seemed really…nice. Rick seemed like the kind of guy she would have for a friend. She sighed. And yet, somehow, she knew that when he finally called, it wouldn’t be to offer her a place to live. She glanced at her watch. Her last chance would be arriving in just a matter of minutes. To keep from watching the clock, she swirled the ice in her glass, glanced at a menu, and perused the bar.
Thirty minutes later, it was obvious he wasn’t coming. She signaled for her check, carefully paid by cash, and exited the bar. The tension was building. She was afraid, not for herself, but for the girls. Hugging her jacket around her, Hannah slowly made her way to her car.
Gavin had continued to watch her. He hadn’t intended to stand her up. He had sat there for over five hours. The problem was…vulnerability. On both sides. Somehow he knew that if he spoke to her, took the time to get to know her, he would like her. He growled. He didn’t want to like her. He wanted to punish her. This plan of hers to find some rich man to take care of her and her children was…sickening.
She’s just being practical,
his heart argued.
How desperate must she be?
When she stood to leave, Gavin waited an appropriate time and left. He wanted to see what she drove, what direction she was heading. Who was he kidding? He was going to follow her and he knew it. Unable to fight it, he left a hundred dollar bill on the bar and walked purposefully out.
The woman was just getting into a late model white SUV. She pulled on her seat belt and cautiously glanced about before backing out of her parking space. She even signaled. A smile softened Gavin’s face. She was making this entirely too easy. She turned left onto 51. And after a few short miles, she made another turn into an apartment complex. It was a nice enough place, not too old, the property was well maintained and with decent vehicles in the parking lot. She pulled up in front of a garage, parked the vehicle, and pulled down the visor. A lit vanity was opened and she swiped at her cheeks while she practiced smiling. He cocked his head to the side as he studied her.
All too quickly, she leapt from the vehicle, locked it, and headed down the hall to the last apartment on the left. Once she was safely ensconced within, Gavin exited his own vehicle, grabbing a pen and napkin from the console. Jotting down the building and apartment numbers, he headed back to the Lexus to make the long drive to Lake Norman. He didn’t mind. It would give him time to think. And once he arrived, he would think some more. Time was of the essence, after all. And he knew he had to take a chance, make a decision, or lose out on this opportunity forever. He would treat it like business, weigh his options, and reach a logical conclusion. His analytical skills had never failed him.
Hannah practiced looking cheerful and optimistic for a few moments before heading into the apartment.
Everything will work out,
she kept telling herself. And clinging to that thought, she walked determinedly into the apartment to face her inquisition.