Can't Stand the Heat (13 page)

L
auren anxiously scrutinized the line of dresses she had laid out on her fold-out couch, fighting the urge to bite her newly painted nails. Her phone rang again. She glanced at it but ultimately decided to ignore it. Her sisters had been calling off and on for the past few hours. Cynthia had even called twice. But each time, Lauren let it go to voice mail. She didn't want to be distracted by her family or their drama today. She wanted to concentrate all her efforts on preparing for her date.

Lauren picked up one of the dresses—a pink A-line with white straps that she hadn't worn in four years.

“I don't know.
Pink?
Is it too much?” She then tossed it onto the growing pile. “Or maybe this one.” She held up a navy blue sheath and examined its baggy shape and long hemline. “No, too matronly. I don't want to look like an old lady.”

Her eyes scanned the dresses again, but she felt no closer to making a decision than she had been when she'd first started choosing clothes an hour ago. Feeling defeated, Lauren sat on the edge of the bed, slumped forward, and dropped her head into her hands.

“Too bad I can't just go in my underwear,” she whispered glumly as she sat in her bra and panties.

She hadn't felt this nervous in a long time, not since her first date thirteen years ago when she was an inexperienced teenage girl who was unsure of what to say or do, worried that she would mess up somehow. Since then she had learned to emotionally distance herself, treating each date more like it was a well-practiced theatrical performance. Depending on the man and what she wanted to get from him, sometimes the date called for her to play the shy virgin. Other times, she had to play the formidable temptress. Occasionally, she was the pleasant, patient listener who wanted to offer him nothing more than a shoulder to cry on.

The only concern she'd had in the past was hitting her mark, saying her lines, and making her date believe she was everything he wanted her to be.

But on this date with Cris, Lauren wouldn't be acting. She would have to be herself and that fact absolutely terrified her.

What if the more he learned about her, the less he liked her? That wasn't just negative talk; it was a real possibility. Most men went running when they found out about her past and the details about her family. They almost sprinted so fast they could break a world record. She couldn't blame them. But with Cris, the rejection would cut deeply.

Maybe I should just cancel it,
she thought unhappily. She could tell him something came up at the last minute and it was impossible for her to go out this afternoon. That way she wouldn't have to worry about scaring him off and getting rejected. Canceling the date would remove both possibilities.

Seriously considering that option, Lauren raised her eyes and glanced at the clock on her wall. It was 1:42
P.M.
That meant she had less than twenty minutes before Cris was supposed to arrive, and she was willing to bet that he was already on his way to her apartment.

If she canceled, she couldn't do it by phone. She would have to make up a lie and tell him in person. She didn't know if she was up to that. She had lied to many men in her life. She had no desire to do it again, especially with Cris. He deserved better.

“No, I've got to do this. I
can
do this.”

She stood from her bed, turned around, and randomly selected a dress to wear.

 

“Hey,” Lauren said with a nervous smile as she opened her basement apartment door fifteen minutes later. “You're early!”

Cris stood on her front stoop under the awning with his hands in his pockets. He looked casual—wearing faded denim jeans and a Polo shirt—but still alluringly handsome. His tattoos were on full display, adding a little edge to his clean-cut look.

“If you need more time, I can wait in the car.” He pointed over his shoulder at the parking lot.

“Oh, no. No, I'm good.” She stepped onto the stoop, stood next to him, and closed the front door behind her.

Lauren's hands shook slightly as she put her key in the lock. It took her a couple of attempts before she finally heard the deadbolt click. When she did, she cleared her throat and turned to face him.

“Ready!”

They walked toward his car.

Her heart was beating so fast she felt like she was running twenty miles an hour, but she told herself that even if she was a quivering mass of nerves on the inside, it didn't show that much on the outside. She had made sure of that.

After Lauren had finally dressed—donning an emerald green sundress and tan canvas sandals with straps that wrapped around her ankles—she had stood in front of her bedroom mirror and taken several deep, calming breaths. She had pushed down the voices of self-doubt. After all, she had had dinner with him before. It wasn't like this was their first date. And her past didn't matter. She was no longer the person she had been a year ago. She was an accomplished sous chef in one of the best restaurants in town. She was an independent, strong, and resourceful woman. She was just as worthy of a healthy romantic relationship as anyone else. With that little pep talk, her confidence felt less shaky. She was finally ready for their date.

She now trailed Cris, draping her sweater over her arm and fussing with the straps of her dress. When they reached the end of the parking lot and he opened the passenger door to a dented sedan covered in so much rust that the paint color was barely recognizable, she paused.

Lauren must have looked stunned because Cris instantly began to explain.

“Sorry,” he said with an apologetic smile. He gestured toward the vehicle. “But my Jag's in the shop. So is the Mercedes. I had to find a last-minute replacement, so I borrowed this from a friend. I hope . . . I hope you don't mind the ride.”

Lauren's shocked expression instantly disappeared. She grinned.
“Mind?
Why would I mind?”

“Well, I thought you might be embarrassed by it. It's in pretty bad condition. I could always try to get another—”

“Cris, look, I'll admit that it's not what I expected an ex-NFL player to drive, but it's fine—really. It's almost identical to my baby. I don't have much room to talk.”

Cris gazed at her doubtfully, leaving her to wonder why he found it so hard to believe she didn't mind his car. It really wasn't that big of a deal.

“I guess we'd better get going, then.” He gestured toward his car's interior, urging her to get inside.

When he climbed behind the wheel, she smiled. “So what's the plan for today?”

“It's a surprise. I'm not telling you until we get there.”

“A surprise, huh?”

He nodded.

Lauren sat back in her seat with her hands in her lap, now curious. She could only imagine what the surprise could be.

Once, to surprise her for her birthday, James had chartered a helicopter and taken her on a flight around Virginia. He had finished it with a private, candlelight dinner in a stone gazebo at a small vineyard. As they ate, they were serenaded by a violinist. She had thought the evening was perfect until James had ruined it with some remark, a belittling comment that stuck in her head and refused to go away, even the next morning. But that was James; he just couldn't help himself. He
had
to make some dig to remind her he was in control, even when he was supposed to be showing her how much he adored her.

Lauren wondered now if Cris would try something similarly extravagant. He was just as much a man of money and means as James, if not more. What over-the-top date did he have planned?

As he drove, she tried to get a few clues from him, but he wouldn't budge. In fact, every time Lauren attempted to start a conversation, Cris would utter a few words before falling silent. He simply refused to talk. Finally, she gave up, hoping again that his odd behavior would cease once the date really began. Maybe he was just as nervous as she was.

After driving for twenty minutes, they took a road that led to the Chesterton fairgrounds, further piquing her curiosity.

They drove another half mile and Lauren saw several cars parked along the shoulder, creating a pathway where men, women, babies in strollers, and excited children were trudging uphill. At the crest of the hill was the brightly colored and crazily decorated ticket gate to the town carnival. With the lowered car window, Lauren could easily hear the music from the merry-go-round and the jubilant screams of those riding the roller coaster and the Tilt-A-Whirl. She could smell the popcorn, hot dogs, and the faint whiff of cotton candy. She could see the top of the Ferris wheel and the parachute drop.

As the car began to decelerate and Cris parallel parked along the shoulder, Lauren gawked.
“This
is your surprise?”

Cris nodded, unbuckling his seatbelt. “I figured neither one of us had probably been to the carnival in years. It's definitely a change of pace.” He paused and gazed at her. “Are you disappointed?”

Disappointed?
Lauren thought with bafflement. She was too shocked to be disappointed. Of all the possibilities to consider, she never would have thought Cris had plans to take her to the carnival. Here she was envisioning helicopter rides and violinists. The idea that they'd spend their day on the Ferris wheel, licking flavored ice cones, and sampling cotton candy, seemed so childlike and without pretension that she couldn't help but smile. She was starting to like Cris more and more.

She unbuckled her seatbelt.

“Disappointed?” she repeated with a grin, opening her car door. “Of course not! Come on! I wanna ride the roller coaster!”

“O
h, that was
so
much fun!” Lauren said as she walked through her apartment door hours later. Cris trailed behind her with a giant stuffed panda tucked under his arm, dragging oversized bags of cotton candy and popcorn.

They had spent most of the day at the carnival, riding roller coasters over and over again until they were almost nauseous. They played the coin toss, Whac-A-Mole, target shooting, and Skee-Ball, with Lauren outscoring Cris in most of them. He was a good loser, though, joking that his hand and eye coordination was a little off now that he had retired from the NFL.

“Guess I'm gettin' rusty,” he had demured with a smile.

They ended their evening at a local diner, enjoying burgers, fries, and milkshakes while they shared funny stories. This time Cris asked most of the questions. He seemed eager to know more about her and her past. Lauren had to do a delicate dance around a few details. She wasn't quite ready to talk about her mother and her sisters and her time with James. She wanted to keep the date light and playful and sharing her family drama or revealing the darker chapters of her life would have impeded that.

It had been a nice dinner—a memorable one, in fact. The only glitch happened when Cris realized he had misplaced his wallet. He'd had it with him most of the day at the carnival, but he had probably lost it somewhere at the fairgrounds. Lauren instantly had insisted they go back and try to find it in the “lost and found” area. Maybe a Good Samaritan had turned it in, she had suggested. But Cris said it was no big deal. He had purposely left his credit cards at home and had only brought cash with him. The only thing the wallet contained was $60 and his outdated driver's license from Texas that had to be replaced with a Virginia license soon anyway.

Feeling bad for him, Lauren didn't bat an eye when he sheepishly asked if she could cover the tab for dinner.

“Of course,” she had readily agreed, throwing a twenty-dollar bill on the table. After that, they left the restaurant holding hands. He drove her home, and during the whole car ride, Lauren marveled at how well the date had gone despite her nerves earlier that day.

See, you were worried for no reason,
she had told herself. Now the only nerves she had were in anticipation of him kissing her again, which she desperately wanted.

“We really have to do that again.” She closed the front door behind him as he stepped farther inside her apartment. She tugged the panda bear from his arm. “I can take that.” She turned and set the bear on the end of the couch and pointed to her coffee table. “You can put the bags over there if you'd like, and please, have a seat. Welcome to my home.”

Despite her offer to sit down, Cris stood awkwardly in the center of the room, looking as if he wasn't sure where exactly he was supposed to sit.

It was a tiny efficiency apartment with a quaint kitchen on one side of the room that had a basic four-burner stove, refrigerator, and microwave. The other side was currently occupied by a small armchair, coffee table, and large pull-out sofa, which also doubled as Lauren's bed. The only dresser in the room was of the simple particle board variety with a veneer made to look like it was made of birchwood. It contained less than a fourth of her clothes. The rest of her wardrobe from her old life was shoved into her coat closet and in one of the many closets at her mother's mansion. Perched on top of the dresser was an old television and VCR she had purchased as a set for thirty dollars at a yard sale. Her apartment walls were unadorned, with the exception of two small canvases her sister Dawn had painted.

Lauren knew her surroundings were humble, but she didn't realize quite
how
humble they were until she watched Cris gaze around him, a picture of bafflement. She saw her apartment for the first time through his eyes and felt a little embarrassed, maybe even defensive.

“I know it doesn't look the greatest, but I swear, the couch won't bite. No fleas or bedbugs here.”

“No, I wasn't . . .” He paused, looking around him again. “I'm just . . . surprised . . . that's all.”

“Surprised by what?”

He shook his head. “Never mind. Forget I said that.” Lauren was starting to feel the same way she had felt before he had arrived for their date: uneasy and nervous. She decided to push those thoughts aside, though. The evening had gone well, after all.

“Can I get you something to drink?” She walked to the kitchen. “Some water or tea, maybe? Sorry I don't have any coffee. I'm out right now.”

“Tea is fine.” He finally sat down on the couch.

Lauren busied herself in the kitchen, rummaging around the cabinets for an old box of Earl Grey tea while he continued to look around her apartment. Minutes later she set two cups and saucers on the coffee table and took a seat beside him.

“I feel like I've done most of the talking tonight,” she said. “I hope I didn't monopolize the conversation.”

“No, not at all. You know so much about me. I wanted to learn more about you. After all”—he paused and gazed at her intently—“there's still a lot I don't know about you.”

“But you don't have to learn it all in one night, right? We have time.” She reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze.

“I guess.” He took his hand out of her grasp and reached for his teacup.

Disappointed, Lauren moved her hand back to her lap. She watched silently as he drank.

“You know, I can't say enough how much of a good time I had tonight, Cris. I haven't enjoyed myself that much in years. I thought the date was very . . . original.”

He lowered his cup back to the table. “Original?” “Yeah, I never would have guessed you'd do something like that. I thought it was . . . sweet.”

She laughed nervously. “You're looking at me like I still have ketchup on my face.” She paused, confused by his facial expression. He seemed angry. “Did I say something wrong?”

When he didn't answer her, her smile faded. “Cris, are you OK?”

“Lauren, are you being honest with me?”

“Honest about what?”

“About everything! I can't figure you out.”

“Cris, I have no idea what you're talking about. What exactly are you trying to figure out about me?”

“If I lay all my cards on the table, will you lay out yours?”

“I'm serious now, Lauren. I don't want any lies.”

That
pricked her anger. “What lies? Cris, I suggest you tell me quickly what you're talking about because I—”

“The date we went on tonight wasn't the date I had planned, not the one I had planned a week ago anyway. I wasn't going to take you to the carnival and some greasy burger joint. I was going to take you on a hot-air balloon and we were going to have champagne and caviar and chocolate-covered strawberries. I even set up a fireworks display.”

He continued to stare at her, waiting for her reaction.

“Well,” Lauren said, now even more befuddled, “I . . . I guess that date would have been nice, too, but what does that have to—”

“My car isn't in the shop, either. I left it at home today and rented the car I used tonight.”

“It's not in the shop?”
She held up her hand. “Wait, I'm really confused now. Why would you ask for that car if you already had—”

“I asked them to send over the worst rental they had on the lot, one that would make
anyone
embarrassed to be seen riding in it. And I didn't lose my wallet, either.” He tugged his wallet out of his back pocket and tossed it onto the coffee table. “It was in my pocket the whole time. I just told you that so you'd pay for dinner.”

Her mouth fell open in shock.

“I did all those things, Lauren, because I was testing you. I had to see if you were being honest with me or just pretending.”

“Testing me?
Why the hell were you testing me? You thought I was pretending to be
what?”

“Pretending to be . . . well, pretending
not
to be . . . a gold digger. I wanted to see if you were really a gold digger.”

Her eyes narrowed with fury.

“Look, when I first heard gossip about you, I didn't believe it. I said you didn't seem that way.”

“You heard gossip about me?”
She leaped from the couch. “What gossip? From whom?” She stomped her foot on the worn carpet. “Damn it, I wish the people in this town would get a life and mind their own goddamn business! I haven't done
anything
to anyone around here! Why would they—”

“I heard it from a friend who only meant well,” Cris insisted, making her suck her teeth and angrily cross her arms over her chest. She started to pace around the small apartment. “I didn't believe him . . . until I met your sister Cynthia.”

Lauren stopped at the mention of her sister's name. “You . . . you met Cynthia?”

“Yeah. She literally ran into me at the farmer's market this morning. You should tell her she's not very subtle. It's good to let a man know you're interested, but maybe she should tone it down a little.”

Lauren uncrossed her arms.

“She mentioned you. Before she walked away, she said ‘Lauren knows the rules' or ‘Lauren broke the rules' by talking to me. I can't remember exactly what she said, but I remember the rules part.” He glared at her. “What did she mean by that?”

Lauren flopped back on the couch beside him, sending her skirt flying around her hips. She looked up, stared at her basement apartment ceiling, and closed her eyes.

Damn you, Cynthia! The
one
man in this town who doesn't know about all our family drama, and you had to ruin it! The one chance I had at starting fresh with someone!

“What rules was she talking about, Lauren?” he persisted.

Lauren slowly opened her eyes. “The rules . . .” she began, pausing to clear her throat. “They're . . . they're what we play by to make sure no one steps on anyone's toes. It keeps us from fighting among ourselves.” She hesitated. “For us, family always comes first, no matter what. It's also what you follow to maintain control and keep from getting . . . too attached.”

“Too attached to what?”

“To men.”

Cris gaped at her words, but quickly closed his mouth.

“OK, so tell me about them. What are the rules?”

“Why do you want to know this, Cris? I don't use them! It doesn't matter!”

“I said I would lay out my cards if you promised to lay out yours. So just . . . just tell me. What are the rules?”

Lauren lowered her eyes from the ceiling to look at him, feeling beyond embarrassed. In some way, she also felt like she was betraying her family. Cris would be the first man who had ever been told any of the Gibbons family's rules.

Grandma Althea definitely would roll over in her grave for this one
.

“Well, some of them are . . . pretty basic,” she began cautiously. “Don't go after a man that your sister has already called dibs on unless she throws him back. Then it's OK. There's another one about if you're going to live with a man who hasn't married you, make sure that you live with him long enough that it qualifies as a common-law marriage in the state where you live. When you do that, if he
does
leave you or if you leave him, you can still sue him for alimony according to state law.

“Then there's the one about always making sure that all leases for cars and apartments are in
both
of your names. If you chose the right guy, he won't default on anything that will damage his credit, so you know that your rent and your car payments will always be taken care of.”

Cris was gaping again.

“Mama has a few rules about divorce. She's done it five times, so I guess she would know,” Lauren muttered with a shrug. “She said you should only start working on your second stringer—”

“Second stringer?
What the hell is that?”

“The next man you plan to marry,” Lauren explained.

“You should only start working on your second stringer the day after the divorce is finalized. If you do it too soon, it could compromise your settlement. Your ex could claim infidelity to the judge. But if you wait too long, the guy you had your eye on could get swept up by someone else.”

Cris now looked shell-shocked.

“The rules change a little if you have children. If you have a girl, her training has to start early, usually when she's thirteen or fourteen. You try to—”

“Stop!
Just stop!” Cris shouted as he held up his hands and stood from the couch. “I don't want to hear any more of this shit!
Training?
Are you serious? I mean . . . goddamn!” he exclaimed, now at a loss for words. “Jay was right! You guys
are
the Jedi Knights of gold digging!”

She gazed up at him, hurt by his reaction. “But you said . . . you said you wanted the truth. That's all I was—”

“Oh, yeah,” he muttered with a nod and a cold laugh. “And you gave it to me!
Uncensored!
So is that all I am to you, huh? A potential alimony payment or a divorce settlement? Did you use all your years of
training
to work on me? Is that why you went out with me tonight?”