Authors: Diana Persaud
Giddy with excitement, she ran up the steps. She stood under the ornate covered entrance, digging through her purse. Her hand trembled slightly as she slid her key into the lock and opened the door. She stepped aside to let the movers do their job. Standing on the small porch, she reached over and plucked a gardenia blossom from an overgrown hedge. She inhaled the light fragrance.
Is this what home smells like?
The movers worked quickly to unload the moving truck. It helped that she didn’t have much furniture in her small apartment. When they were gone, she began unpacking.
After putting away essential kitchen supplies, she went upstairs to set up her bedroom. She spread her bed and hung her clothes in the wardrobe. Her stomach grumbled and she decided to drive into town for dinner.
Sitting at the table waiting for her dinner, she observed other patrons. A young couple sat at the table near her. They set their baby carrier on the table and his mother cooed softly.
A shrill scream from a toddler at another table startled the baby and he wailed. His mother fiddled with the belts then picked up her baby. She rocked him gently, calming him. He gurgled and giggled.
A sharp pain twisted in her stomach and she recognized the feeling.
Jealousy.
Voices at another table became louder and more strained. A teenage boy was arguing with his father. As the exchange became more heated, they stood quickly, causing a chair to fall backward. The father’s fist connected and the teen fell backward. Sprawled on the floor, he covered his bloody mouth. His father ran out of the restaurant as other patrons pulled out their cell phones.
Why is it that abusive parents have children and people like me, don’t?
The manager led the injured teenager to his office in the back.
Maybe I should just adopt a child. They need someone to love them. And I wouldn’t have to deal with stinky diapers.
She drummed her fingers on the table.
But I will have to deal with their problems. What if I’m unable to love an adopted child? Would it be easier to love my own? Does this make me a terrible mother?
A distinctive sizzle pulled her away from her thoughts.
Mmm. Garlic lime shrimp grilled on an open fire.
Her mouth watered. The waitress set down her plate. Steam wafted off bright green broccoli and a pat of butter melted on her mashed potatoes.
“You need anything else, Hon’?” the waitress asked.
“No thanks,” she replied, picking up her fork.
She crossed off the first item on her mental list. She had a beautiful home. Her next goal was to fill it with love.
Adopt or IVF? Or throw caution to the wind and accept Sanjay’s offer?
Chapter Three
Who’s that?
Tom stood by his window, peering at his new neighbor.
Snug blue jeans hugged generous curves while a plain white shirt hung loosely on her frame, hiding the rest of her charms. His eyes flicked toward her house. Nothing moved.
Is the rest of her body as tanned as her arms?
He took off his shirt then jogged over to his neighbor.
“Hi, I’m Tom, your neighbor. Need some help?”
She glanced up. Coffee-brown eyes roved over his body, lingering on his bare chest before moving up to meet his eyes.
He smirked at the spark of desire in her eyes.
“No thanks,” she replied.
The spark of desire vanished, leaving him momentarily confused.
She fiddled with the lawn mower.
He dropped to his knees beside her.
She pulled out a long vine, freeing the blades.
“It’s a hot day. I’m surprised your husband isn’t out here mowing the lawn.”
“I’m not married,” she replied.
She stood and dusted off dirt and twigs from her knees.
“If your boyfriend doesn’t mind, I’ll be happy to mow your lawn for you,” he offered.
“No boyfriend, either. I’m Anjali,” she replied, offering her hand.
He shook her hand.
“Do you have a lawn mowing business?” she asked.
Tom chuckled.
“No, I just like to offer my services to pretty ladies.”
He flashed her his sexiest smile. She blushed and turned away, pretending to study her backyard.
I must be losing my touch.
“I appreciate your offer, Tom, but I think I can handle mowing my lawn.”
“What about your nose?” he blurted out.
“My nose?” She touched her nose. “What’s wrong with my nose?” she asked, a little defensively.
“Nothing. You have a cute nose. I just meant—sunburn. You don’t want to get a sunburn.”
“I’ll be fine. One of the benefits of having brown skin. Less likely to get sunburn.” Her eyes drifted to his chest again. “You should probably put on your shirt.”
He glanced down at his muscular abs.
She wants me to
cover
my chest? I thought women
liked
looking at my bare chest.
“
So you don’t get sunburn,” she added. “Your pale skin will burn easily under this hot sun.”
He nodded silently. She pulled the cord. With a loud roar, the lawn mower started and she pushed it along her yard.
What the fuck just happened here?
He ran his fingers through his hair.
How can she possibly resist me?
He sniffed his arm pits.
Just deodorant. Maybe she doesn’t like my cologne?
“Tommy!” a familiar voice called. He closed his eyes and swore.
Just what I need.
He took a deep breath and forced himself to turn around.
Janice stood on his front porch, waiting for him.
Tossing his shirt over one shoulder, he walked slowly back to his front porch.
“Janice. I’ve told you before. I prefer Tom or Thomas,” he replied tersely.
Janice bit her bottom lip. Her eyes caressed his chest and dipped down to the front of his jeans.
I should have taken Anjali’s advice and put on my shirt.
The wind shifted and her perfume enveloped him. His throat felt scratchy and he coughed.
“Why are you here, Janice?”
“Andy told me about your business proposition. Why don’t we go inside?” she suggested.
He climbed the porch steps and crossed his porch in two long strides. He opened the door and motioned for her to enter.
“After you, madame.”
Janice walked in front of him, swinging her hips seductively.
As soon as he shut the door, she was pressed against him. She grabbed his head and plastered her fish lips against his.
He pushed her away. She stumbled backward in her heels.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he demanded.
“I want you, Tommy,” she purred.
She caressed his chest. He grabbed her wrist and held it away from him.
“You’re engaged to my best friend. Andy. Remember him?”
He used his shirt to wipe off her lipstick, rubbing vigorously to remove the bright red stain from his lips.
Janice snickered.
“Andy knows nothing about satisfying a woman.”
She licked her lips and stepped away from him. She pulled up her red skirt, revealing skinny thighs and lacy red panties.
“Stop that!” he snapped.
“I need a real man, Tommy,” she begged.
“Then why are you marrying him?”
Janice looked at him as if he were stupid.
“His money. Why else would anyone marry that fat slob?”
“You gold digging bi—”
“How dare you judge me when you’re after his money too,” she countered.
“He’s investing in my company, not giving it away.”
“Fuck me or you can kiss your money good-bye.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Andy and I had a deal. He’s not going to bail on me because you ask him to.”
“Are you sure about that?”
He wanted to wipe that smug look off her face. Instead, he gripped the doorknob and yanked open the door.
“Good-bye, Janice,” he said through gritted teeth. He refused to look at her.
“I’m really surprised at you, Tommy. Andy said you’d nail anything in a skirt.”
He gripped the doorknob until his fingers went numb.
“I had no idea you had standards.”
She stopped in front of him.
“Or maybe your lovers didn’t have any,” she sneered.
Does she think I care about her opinion?
“Your loss, Tommy.”
As she stepped out of his house, he said, “Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell Andy you’re only marrying him for his money?”
“No. You won’t say anything because it would hurt him.”
He slammed the door behind her. The card with the loan officer’s cell phone number seemed to burn a hole in him.
Bitch
.
His heartbeat increased and he felt a surge of adrenaline. He stomped down his basement steps and swung at his punching bag.
Mother.
Fucking.
Bitch.
He pounded the leather bag until his rage receded and his knuckles were raw. Sweating and panting, he steadied the swinging bag.
Andy made a deal. How could she convince him to back out? Withhold sex?
He shook his head.
No, because then Andy might decide not to marry her. She’s bluffing. Has to be.
Feeling parched, he grabbed a towel and wiped his face as he climbed the stairs. In the kitchen, he poured himself a glass of cold water and drank it. The muffled motor of the lawn mower caught his attention.
Anjali
.
I bet
she
has high standards.
He reached for another glass, filled it with cold water then went outside.
The scent of freshly mowed grass surrounded him as he crossed her lawn. She shut off the lawn mower, gratefully accepting the glass of water.
“Thanks.” She wiped the sweat from her brow. “I was just going to finish that piece before I went inside for some iced tea.”
“Do you eat?”
What the FUCK am I saying?
“Excuse me?” Anjali replied, frowning. She stood a little straighter and sucked in her belly. A faint blush colored her cheeks.
Great, I’m embarrassing her.
“I eat too. Maybe we could eat together?”
Shut up, you fucking moron.
He rubbed the back of his neck, hoping to think of a way to salvage this situation.
I need to make an impression. A GOOD impression.
“You’re probably tired of guys taking you to fancy restaurants all the time. Why don’t I make dinner for you tonight?”
What the fuck did I just say? I don’t know how to cook!
Her eyes widened in surprise then she smiled. Her body relaxed and she replied, “That sounds fantastic! No one’s ever cooked for me before. What are you going to make?”
“Make? Uh, how about I surprise you?”
She returned the empty glass.
“Okay. What time should I come over?”
“Seven?”
“Okay, Tom, I’ll see you at seven.”
I hope I don’t burn down the house.
Or give her food poisoning.
Anjali started her lawn mower and he jogged back to his house.
Okay, I can do this. How hard can it be to cook, right?
He opened his refrigerator. Aside from a half gallon of milk and three beers, his fridge was empty.
Time to call Mikey.
He withdrew his cell phone and called his older brother.
“Mikey, I need a little help.”
“Sure, Tom, what do you need?”
“I need to cook something. It needs to be…spectacular. Memorable. Get me laid.”
Mike laughed.
“Should have known a woman was involved. Why don’t you just buy some food and pretend that you cooked it?”
Tom frowned.
“No, I promised her I’d cook for her.”
“You want to impress her. Tell you what, I’ll come over, whip something up then you can take all the credit. Guarantee she’ll fuck you.”
“I…don’t want to deceive her, Mikey.”
“I thought you wanted to get laid.”
“Well, yeah, I want to fuck her but….”
His voice trailed off, unsure of why he wanted to make an effort to get laid.
“But?” Mikey prompted.
Tom ran his fingers through is hair and paced his living room.
“She’s different.”
“Oh, she’s
different.
”
“She’s not like other women.”
“You mean her horns are visible?”
“No, smart ass. Normally I just flirt a little and women are ready to hop into bed.”
“She’s
immune
to your flirting?”
He plopped down on his couch.
“I’m putting you on speaker. Jack
has
to hear this.”
“No, don’t—”
A newspaper rustled.
“What’s going on, Tom?” Jack asked.
“Tommy met a girl and she’s immune to his charms,” Mikey summarized.
“Lesbian,” Jack stated. “Move on.”
“She’s
not
a Lesbian,” Tom denied.
“Because?” Jack asked.
“I saw the way she looked at me. Desire was there. Then it was gone.”
Mikey clucked his tongue.
“Tommy, you must have said something to offend her.”
“I offered to help. How is that offensive?”
“Did you imply she was incompetent?” Mikey asked gently.
“No…at least I don’t think I did.”
“Gold digger,” Jack suggested.
“She doesn’t know I’m a mechanic. I wasn’t wearing my uniform.”
“Jack? Honey, what are you thinking?” Mikey asked.
“Heart broken by someone like Tom.”
“So I don’t have a chance with her?”
Did I sound…disappointed? And why the fuck am I asking two gay men for advice on women?
He shook his head in disbelief.
“Maybe,” Jack said.
The newspaper rustled again.
“Maybe not.”
“What you need is to stand out from all the other guys she’s dated,” Mike suggested.
“Which is why I’m making her dinner,” Tom said, a little exasperated.