Starting From Scratch (23 page)

I stood staring at her as the tinted window hummed

up and she peeled away, her tires throwing pieces of gravel.

I thought about the countless times in my life when I’d

tried in vain to understand why my mother didn’t care

enough to take an interest in my life.

191

Georgia Beers

“On the contrary,” I muttered. “I’m in
exactly
the

position to judge you.”

192

CHAPTER NINETEEN

“Oh, wow. I love this color.” Elena ran a hand along

the wall of my hallway leading into the living room as if

hoping to take in the essence of the deep khaki. “It’s so

rich. It reminds me of chocolate milk.”

Swollen pride is unbecoming, I know this, so I tried

hard not to show how much her compliments meant to

me. “Rich” was exactly the word that had come to mind

when I decided on the wall color for my living space. At

first I worried it might be too bold, too much of a

statement, looked too much like dirt. But as soon as I

finished rolling it onto one wall, I knew it was perfect. Add

in my taupe couch and throw pillows in various earthy

shades, and it ended up being a very warm, inviting room I

was proud of.

“anks,” I said. “I was happy with the way it turned

out.”

My smile was wide as I watched her slowly wander

the room, running her hand over furniture, picking up

framed photos to study. It was July fourth and Max was

staying the weekend with Elena’s parents, who were taking

him to see some fireworks on one of the Finger Lakes.

When Elena told me she was free, I jumped all over the

chance to have some alone time with her, some time to talk

and get to know her. Of course, my promise to keep my

Georgia Beers

hands to myself for at least a few hours seemed like a

distant memory as my eyes roamed over snug pair of

denim shorts. Tearing myself from the view, I slid a bottle

of wine from the rack tucked in the corner.

“Cabernet all right?” I asked.

“Perfect. Is this your grandmother?” She held up a

silver-framed black and white photo of a sophisticated,

poised young woman from the forties.

“Yep,” I answered from the kitchen as I operated the

corkscrew. “She was working her first clerical job then.”

“Impressive.” She replaced the frame and scanned

others. “A woman before her time, you told me.”

“I think my grandma invented that term.” When I

returned to the living room carrying two glasses of wine,

she was running her fingers over another framed photo.

is one was much smaller and I kept it tucked in the back

of the others; I was surprised she’d found it.

“Is this you and your mom?” Her voice was quiet, as if

she wasn’t quite sure what my reaction would be.

I peeked around her shoulder, not needing to see the

picture to know which one she held, but feeling the

irresistible urge to peek anyway. “Yeah.”

“My God, look how adorable you were.”

I snorted, any anticipatory tension disappearing.

“No, really,” she stressed, then made goo-goo sounds at

the picture. “Look at those chubby little thighs and that

red hair. I bet your mom wanted to eat you up.”

“Yeah, well.” I looked carefully at the young woman

with the toddler, something I didn’t allow myself to do

often. She was quite pretty and she was actually smiling,

the sun glinting on her light hair, her cheek pressed against

mine. e scene seemed as close to happy as anything I

194

Starting From Scratch

could find or remember about the two of us since then. “I

think…” I cleared my throat. “I think this was before she

started feeling…I don’t know…trapped? I was two here.

She didn’t leave for another two years.”

Elena’s long, thin fingers caressed the toddler’s face. “I

can’t imagine how hard that must have been for you.”

“I was young. I don’t remember much.”

Carefully, she set the photo back where she got it and

turned to me. Taking a glass of wine from my hand, she

asked gently, “Why do you do that?”  ere was no

accusation in her voice, no irritation, just curiosity.

“Do what?” I knew exactly what she was asking, but I

feigned confusion anyway. It was a defense mechanism for

me, almost second nature. After nearly thirty years of

habit, I didn’t even think about it.

“Brush it off like it’s no big deal.” Her hand slid down

my arm and she linked our fingers.

I shrugged.

We sat on the couch facing one another. “You don’t

have to pretend with me,” she told me. “at’s all I’m

saying.”

“I know,” I said. And I did. But I felt an irresistible

urge to change the subject, so I raised my glass. “Here’s to

an easier week than the past two have been.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

We clinked and sipped. It was a holiday, but both of us

had gone into work for a few hours. I could only speak for

myself, but I figured if I got some things out of the way I

could focus more on the time I had with Elena.

“Did you get things done today?” I asked Elena as we

relaxed into the couch. “I thought bankers were supposed

to have it easy…bankers’ hours and all that.”

195

Georgia Beers

She snorted. “I always laugh when I hear somebody

talk about bankers’ hours. ey’ve obviously never spent a

day in my shoes.”

My arm was stretched across the back of the couch

and I could touch her hair. e strands were soft and silky

and I tried not to let that distract me. “So, what exactly are

the duties of a bank manager?”

She squinted, obviously trying to find a good starting

point. “A typical day could consist of off-site meetings that

might be run by my manager or by other business partners

like our business banking, investment and insurance

division, or training department. Sometimes I have

appointments with current business customers to help

them maximize their relationships with us. at’s a good

way to get referrals to other business clients, by the way, so

I try to schmooze a little bit, take them to lunch or

whatever.”

“I’ve always thought of a bank’s customers as people

like me.”

“Unless you run a business, it probably wouldn’t cross

your mind.”

“What else do you do?”

“If I’m in the branch, I might open accounts for new

customers or field complaints from old ones.”

“I’ve seen you handle those. Nicely done, by the way.”

She seemed pleased as she went on. “I have

administrative duties like coaching my staff, having one-

on-one meetings, taking care of audit concerns, and

introducing new products, services or promotions to

them.”

“And you’ve got to be the woman with the numbers.”

196

Starting From Scratch

“I have combinations, keys, and alarm codes,” she

confirmed with a nod.

“You rule.”

“I do.”

We grinned at one another, very comfortable in the

silence. A zap hit me low in my abdomen when I realized

that her eyes had settled on my mouth. en, as if
she
were

the one who’d been zapped, her gaze snapped up and she

blurted, “Tell me about your job. What’s it like to work for

an advertising company?” She took my hand in her own,

effectively untangling my fingers from her hair, and held

onto it.

I poked the inside of my cheek with my tongue. Was

it possible she was doing exactly what I was doing? Trying

to keep things verbal rather than physical, at least for a

little while? I didn’t ask; I didn’t want to embarrass her if I

was wrong. Or if I was right. Instead, I sipped my wine and

focused on answering her question.

“Well, first one of our account reps lands the client.

For us, that’s usually Anita. She, Josh, and I all work

together. Anita handles the client, I do the logos and

colors, Josh is the word man. So, Anita lands the client and

then Josh and I will usually sit in on a meeting with them

to see what it is they have in mind for their project or new

product or company in general. After that, Anita, Josh, and

I sit down together and brainstorm, based on what we all

heard from the client. Josh and I usually try to come up

with four or five different ideas to pitch to Anita, who

usually whittles them down to two or three. en she takes

them back to the client.”

“Is it hard?” Elena asked, tilting her head to the side.

“To give a client what they want?”

197

Georgia Beers

“It can be. Totally. Especially if the client isn’t sure

what they want. ose are the toughest accounts. Or they

know what they want, but they can’t seem to verbalize it, so

you give them what seems like a dozen different ideas and

they tell you it’s just not quite right. e color’s off or the

words sound funny or whatever. Ugh. Makes you want to

scream. Luckily, it doesn’t happen often. e three of us

make a good team and usually at least one of us can find

whatever wavelength the client happens to be on.”

“at has to make you feel good. When you and your

client are on the same page.”

“It does make me feel good. So does being with you.”

Her burst of laughter surprised me, but she quickly

tried to cover and tightened her grip on my hand as I

reflexively tried to pull it away. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I

promise I’m not laughing at you; I’m laughing at the look

you just got on your face.”

“What look?”

“e one that said, ‘Oh, my God, did I just say that

out loud?’”

Heat flamed my cheeks, but I couldn’t hide a grin

because she was absolutely right. I’d been thinking how

good it was to just be near her and the next thing I knew,

the words had flown from my mouth likes rocks from a

slingshot. “Oh, crap.”

Elena tried to hold my gaze, but I was too self-

conscious and looked down at my lap, feeling more

exposed than I was comfortable with. Her fingertips under

my chin brought my eyes back up to hers. Her voice was

just above a whisper.

“Please don’t be embarrassed, Avery. Being with you

feels good to me, too.”

198

Starting From Scratch

“Yeah?”

“Definitely.” She paused and wet her lips with the tip

of her tongue. “Do you think we’ve done enough talking

now?”

“Definitely.”

It was so easy to become lost in her kiss. My brain

couldn’t decide what to focus on: the unbelievable softness

of her lips, the hint of wine on her tongue, the gentle yet

possessive way she cradled my jaw in her hand, or the

alarmingly hot wave of excitement that washed over me.

All of that was overshadowed suddenly by her other hand

as it slid into the hair at the nape of my neck, gripping my

head and pulling me closer.

More.
It’s all I could think as I tasted her mouth, felt

her tongue, pushed my own against it.
I want more. And

more. And more.

It wasn’t clear to me how long we kissed before we

were startled apart by Steve as he jumped at the sliding

glass door, wanting out. I glared at him as my chest heaved.

“Jesus, Steve. Timing, buddy. Timing is everything and

yours just sucks.” I turned to Elena, who was breathing just

as heavily as I was, and who had hooded eyes and swollen

lips, and it was all I could do not to dive at her and rip all

her clothes off. I gestured to Steve with a cock of my head.

“Let me just…put him out. en he’ll be set for the night.”

“Okay. Good. I was just going to ask you anyway if

you have a bed.”

I opened the door for Steve and I’m sure my grin was

lopsided as I replied, “Why, yes. I do have a bed. Why do

you ask? Would you like to see it?”

199

Georgia Beers

Her stare was so concentrated and passionate, I was

surprised I didn’t burst into flames right then and there,

leaving a big scorch mark on my carpet.

“Actually, I’d like to get in it,” she told me. “Naked.

With you. As soon as possible.”

I was unable to reply to that, as my heart leapt into my

throat and every drop of moisture in my body shot straight

to the crotch of my panties. I let Steve back in without

looking at him, shut the door and locked it, crossed the

room to grab Elena by the hand, and tugged her up the

stairs behind me.

It wasn’t quite a full moon, but the night sky was clear

and the moonlight cast a sexy, cool blue tint through my

bedroom window. I left the blinds up and the lights off and

turned all my attention to the beautiful woman next to me.

My fingers had the hem of Elena’s cotton T-shirt and

had pulled it up and over her head before I even realized

what I was doing. Mentally vowing to slow down and

enjoy the whole process of undressing her, I tossed the

shirt to the floor. She bent forward to kiss me, but I held

her back, my hand pressed to her sternum.

“Wait,” I breathed.

She stood still and allowed me to unfasten the fly on