Page 26 of When Sparks Fly
CHAPTER EIGHT
VICKIEPULLEDOPENthe drapes and unlocked the doors leading from her kitchen to the currently nonexistent deck out back. That was her signal to Gordon that she was awake and coffee was ready. Ten minutes later, she heard his quick rap on the door before it opened and he walked in, carefully wiping his feet on the new mat she’d placed there just for him.
Over the past couple of weeks, it had become their routine. She’d started by setting out a coffee for him in the mornings. But it felt rude to drink coffee inside while watching him outside. And she was enjoying watching him too much to stop.
The man was freaking hot, and she wasn’t ashamed to admit it—at least to herself. The thick hair, the quick smile, the muscular arms and shoulders, the abs she imagined under his shirts, which were often delightfully snug. The way his veins stood out on his neck when he started tearing apart the rotted deck. The smell of his sweat mixed with Old Spice.Oh, yeah.She had a solid crush on Gordon Lexiter.
Sharing coffee with him every morning made her ogling easier. It would be unseemly to just stand at the door and drool. After a week, there wasn’t any deck left for her to stand on. Handing it out the door to him felt a little too much like he was “the help.” Besides, it didn’t allow her enough time in his presence. If she was going to fantasize about her contractor, she may as well go all out. So...she’d started inviting him to come inside for coffee.
Fantasizing was all she could do, of course. Her friends habitually teased her about what they called her predatory dating habits. According to them, as soon as she saw someone interesting, she started hearing wedding bells. She couldn’t help it if she’d never been a one-night stand sort of woman. Well...not since high school, anyway. No judgment—she had no problem with women who enjoyed that kind of freedom. But Vickie believed inrelationships, and a relationship should always have the possibility of lasting awhile, if not forever. And anything that might happen between her and Gordon would definitelynothave a chance at forever.
He was a silver-haired hunk. But he was hercontractor.Even if it meant living up to her snobbish reputation, she couldn’t imagine a future with a guy she’d hired to build her back deck. An architect? Sure. A property developer whohiredguys like Gordon? Probably. But—God forgive her—she couldn’t imagine an actual relationship with him. She could imagine some fun activities, but life was more than that. People had certain expectations of her.
“Are you out of creamer, Vicks?” Gordon was at the refrigerator, looking back at her. He’d made himself right at home in her kitchen over the past few days.
“Check behind the white wine vinegar in the door.” Vickie gave herself a mental shake. If she couldn’t see a relationship, she should probably stop putting herself in the man’s orbit so much. Then he bent lower to search her refrigerator, and his jeans pulled tight across an ass that...oh, my.She blinked and turned away, wishing she could fan herself.
A few hours later, she was having lunch with her best friend, Maura McKinnon, on the outdoor deck of the marina restaurant. She had a weak moment and confessed her inexplicable attraction to the man they’d both gone to high school with. Maura’s eyes went wide.
“Gordy Lexiter? Wasn’t he a linebacker on the football team? The heartthrob of every girl at Seneca Valley High?ThatGordy Lexiter?”
“Yes.” Vickie took a sip of her Prosecco. “ThatGordon. He’s aged very well, Maura. But good grief, I’ve known handsome men all my life and didn’t have vapors over them.”
Maura snorted. “You did if you thought they were rich.”
She straightened abruptly. “I amnota golddigger!”
Maura stole one of Vickie’s sweet potato fries from her plate. “Come on. Back in the day, you were more attracted to a man’s social status or bank account than you were the man’s looks. That’s what makes this so interesting.” Vickie flipped her middle finger in the air, which only made Maura laugh harder. “You know I love you. I’m not saying your feelings for the men in your life didn’t become...real. But you never once told me you thought any man you were setting your sights on washot.Classy, maybe. Distinguished. Civilized. And let’s not forgetrich. But hot? Nope, that’s a new one.”
Vickie sighed heavily. She wanted to object, but how do you object to the truth?
“Maybe I’ve just been off the market too long. I’m getting desperate.”
Maura shook her head. “You haven’t been off the market that long. You were just dating the college dean last year, weren’t you?”
“Howard Greer and I were more friends than lovers. In fact—” she drained her wineglass “—we were lovers exactly once, and it was memorable for all the wrong reasons.”
“Ooh... I don’t think I’ve heard this story.” Maura rested her chin on her hand. “Do tell.”
Her face heated. “I’ve never been a kiss-and-tell sort. Howard is a very nice man.”
“AndI’mnot a tell-people-what’s-told-me-in-confidence sort. Spill it.”
Vickie rolled her eyes. “You know how it is...old person sex can be...complicated.”
When she didn’t continue, Maura leveled a look at her. “Idon’tknow, since my husband’s been dead for twenty years. Did Howard have chest pains in the middle of the act or what?”
“No. There wasn’tan act at all. By the time he was ready, I wasn’t, and it was all just a lot of awkward fumbling. We never discussed it—” she shrugged “—or tried it again.”
They’d kept the relationship going, at least in public, for another few months, but they were nothing more than dinner dates for each other. A way to avoid being the odd one out. When Howard found someone else, they’d parted as friends.
“I’m sorry, Vickie. It’s got to be difficult to build a relationship without some sort of...physical connection.”
“I don’t know.” She flagged down their server for another glass of Prosecco, since Maura was driving. “I’m probably too old to be feeling horny.”
Maura tipped her head back and laughed loudly. “I don’t think there’s an age limit on horniness. This is the twenty-first century and boomer women are tipping thelittle old ladystereotype on its ear. Look at Cecile and Charlie—if she’s to be believed, those two are at it like a pair of rabbits every night. Remember how upset she got when the book club read that shades book? She complained that the BDSM scenes were not written accurately enough. I’ve often wondered if they have a little ‘red room of pain’ in that house somewhere...”
“Ew! God, don’t put that image in my mind.” Vickie pretended to scrub her eyes. “I don’t know if anyone knows Cecile’s actual age, but I know Charlie is at least seventy-two.”