I shook my head and took his hand, “Thank you for dinner. This was the best first date I’ve ever had.”
“Teagan, I…”
I shut him up with a soft kiss on his lips. “Don’t overthink it. I’ll go as slow as you need.”
He tried to hide the smile, but I caught it. “I’ll see you around, Teagan.”
I shouted to his back as he walked away, “If you don’t call me by Saturday, I’ll be ringing your doorbell.”
He waved and kept walking. He had no idea what he was in for with me.
I walked in the house and called Abby.
“Spill it. Every single detail,” she shrieked.
“My neighbor is Smith Carlisle.”
“Get the hell out of here!”
“Yep. I was shocked. I bumped into him at the grocery store and then the coffee shop again. Would you believe he ran away after I gave him my number? He gave me some line about not dating and didn’t even wait for his coffee.”
“So how did you end up going out with him?”
I told her the rest of the story and she was suitably shocked.
“He sounds like a basket case,” she said.
“He’s got some issues; I’ll give you that. That bitch really did a number on him, and I still haven’t got that story yet.”
“Lindsay Taylor?”
“God damned Lindsay Taylor.”
“Be careful, Teagan. He sounds like a heartbreak waiting to happen for you.”
“Don’t you think he’s worth the chance?” I asked annoyed.
“Just for his looks, sure, but that was before you found out about his issues.”
“I don’t care. I’m giving him a chance.”
“Good luck, chickie.”
***
Saturday came and I hadn’t heard from Smith. I didn’t think I would, I even thought he might be playing a game with me. So, I cleaned the house and kept busy all day until five o’clock. I was about to shower and go to his house, but my doorbell rang.
I panicked. I looked in the mirror and saw sweaty, disheveled hair, ratty sweatshirt, and ugly sweatpants. My bell rang again, I had no choice. It was answer it and have him see me at my worst or don’t answer it and have him think I was avoiding him. I couldn’t let him think I was avoiding him.
I hung my head and opened the door.
“Hello there,” he chirped as he looked me up and down. “Kinda underdressed for a date aren’t you?”
I looked at him like an idiot. “Huh?”
“Didn’t expect me to show up unannounced so early for our date? Crazy, right?”
I stepped to the side, and he walked in.
“So, are we not going out?” he asked with a cheeky grin.
“You could’ve texted me, jerk.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” he asked.
“Okay. Give me a minute to shower and get dressed. Make yourself comfortable.”
I ran up the stairs and hustled through my shower. He was dressed Country Club chic again, so I tried to match him and figured we were doing casual dining.
When I walked downstairs, he was looking out my back window.
“I’m ready,” I sang, as I walked through my great room.
“Okay, relax for a bit. Our reservation isn’t until 6:30.”
I slapped his shoulder, “You, jerk. Where are you taking me?”
“Wildfire. Ever been there?”
“Yeah, my mom loves it. Daddy takes her there for her birthday and their anniversary every year. Well, anytime mom wants a nice meal out.”
“Daddy?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Yes, my father,” I answered annoyed. He shook his head and walked into the kitchen.
“Smells great, you were cleaning when I came?”
“Just finished, actually.” I watched as he walked through my kitchen almost as if inspecting it.
“Your home is very clean. I like that.”
“Isn’t everyone?” I wondered what he was doing. Was it some sort of audition? Test?
He laughed, “No. Lindsay was a slob. It drove me crazy sometimes.”
His demeanor changed. I knew I had to avoid talking about God damned Lindsay Taylor, it ruined his mood.
“Hey!” I chirped.
His eyes snapped up.
“None of that BS. You’re with me tonight, not God damned Lindsay Taylor. I’m not her.”
He straightened, walked to me, and kissed my cheek. “No. You’re nothing like her as far as I can tell so far.”
My cheek was warm from his lips. I reflexively lifted my hand to that spot as he walked past.
“Let’s get going. I could use a martini,” I said.
He laughed, “Martini, huh? Not some fancy drink with six ingredients?”
“Nope. I’m a simple girl. Vodka martini with a twist.”
He nodded. “We have that in common too. I hate olives.”
“Yuck,” I said as he took my hand and walked me to his garage.
***
I cut into my perfectly cooked filet mignon and asked, “Smith, with this being our second date, can I assume we’ll go out next weekend as well?” The next Sunday was Valentine’s Day.
He frowned. “Sure, but I don’t do Valentine’s Day.”
I saw the sadness and I wanted to kill that country fried bimbo for making him that way.
“She’s your past, Smith. You have to let her go. I’d like to be your present, and hopefully your future too.”
He took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling then he gazed into my eyes with an intensity I’d never seen from him. “I like you, Teagan. You’re smart, beautiful, hell, you’re someone I could talk with all night, but I’m not ready to be in a relationship. You have to…”
“Snap you out of your two-year-old fog of depression? You got it. I’ll be the girl that shows you that blonde bimbos with fake tits aren’t what you need.”
He snorted. “They were real.”
“I don’t care. Looking at what she did to you, if I ever see her, I’ll cut ’em off and make her get fake ones.”
“Wow. You don’t like her do you?”
“I loved her until I read that you broke up with her. She must have done something horrible to you.”
He nodded. “I forgot you googled me. The whole story isn’t out there though. We’ve never told anyone what happened.”
I took his hand and asked, “What happened? What did she do to almost break you?”
He squeezed my hand and said, “Not tonight. I’ll tell you, but I don’t want to ruin our date. Thinking about it puts me in a bad mood.”
“Okay. I’ll let it go.”
“Good,” he smiled.
Our date ended with little fanfare, and I got a chaste kiss on the cheek at my door. The mention of her had cast a pall over the rest of the date and ruined his mood.
***
I woke the next morning to the sound of Smith playing the song again. I sighed as I made my way downstairs to the coffee pot. I wished he would give up on it, it was obvious that it bothered him. I can’t believe something so small had stopped his career in its tracks.
I poured my coffee and sat in my recliner. It was the best spot to hear the song playing. His piano must be nearest my wall there. I closed my eyes and wished he were more…I don’t know…normal?
That’s such a bad choice of words though. Aside from his OCD, he was the perfect man. Outside the house he was as normal as anyone else, why should I say I wished he were normal. Who’s to say I was normal?
I used my phone to google him and was shocked at the number of hits he wrote. There was a YouTube video that showed him playing piano for God damned Lindsay Taylor on a television show. I clicked the link and watched them play one of my favorite songs.
It started out with his beautiful piano playing, then the acoustic guitars joined, followed by the violin quartet. His smile was panty-melting—it was obvious he was in love as he watched her sing his love song. I realized he must’ve written it for her. Then his face changed in the background as the camera focused on Lindsay walking along the stage.