I gave myself a pep talk. At least the age difference thing hadn’t freaked Raf out too much. At least Heath had been on his best behavior. Both of them had, so there was that. And it was a lot.
And so, what to wear. Casual? Feminine? Flirty? Definitely nothing too sexy, certainly not for the first time my boys were meeting my—whatever Heath was.
I settled on a short, patterned tank dress in a soft nude and gray that set off the warm glow to my skin tone. The sweetheart neckline hugged my collarbone in an appealing way, but didn’t reveal too much cleavage, and the pleated wrap bodice was fitted and showed off all of my curves, but could in no way be considered tight.
It was a touch sexy, but in a romantic, feminine way, which I thought (hoped) was the appropriate balance for the occasion.
I picked out some pale pink sandals to wear when we went to run errands, but stayed barefoot around the house, as I was always barefoot around my house.
I left my hair wavy and loose and wore minimal makeup—a soft pink lip, a touch of blush, mascara.
And then I set to work, planning in detail a meal to impress.
I had an extensive list made out when Heath returned in time to hit the market with me, just like he’d said.
“You don’t have to come to the store with me,” I told him.
He just shrugged and ignored the statement.
We took my car, but he drove. He was not content to be a passenger, it was clear. His car wasn’t around at all, and while I couldn’t figure out why or how he’d gotten back to my place,(aside from walking) I just went with it.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” I asked him, studying his granite profile while he drove.
“Having dinner with you and your kids?”
“Yeah. That.”
“I’m sure. We need to face this head on. It might feel a bit sudden to them, but there’s nothing to do for it but meet them now with the way Rafael found me at that hour and in your kitchen.”
And half naked, I thought, still mentally wincing over that.
“Otherwise,” he continued, “your kids are going to think this is some casual hookup situation.”
Which clearly implied that . . . ?
“And it’s not that, and I don’t want your boys thinking that of me and you.”
Wow. I had not a clue what to say to that. But he was absolutely right. We did need to face this. If he’d met Rafael like that, and then looked to be avoiding my boys, they could well become hostile.
“You’re very sweet,” I told him finally.
He shot me a level look when he’d stopped at a red light.
“I’m not sweet, so if I said something that was, you should take it to heart.”
I did. In spite of all of my reservations, I absolutely did.
Like all normal, mundane, everyday things I found myself doing with Heath, grocery shopping turned out to be much more interesting and strange than normal.
First of all, it was a Saturday morning, and our first stop was the best organic market in town, so it was a madhouse. Eventually, we split up to get through the list faster. The line for the meat counter alone was a good thirty minute wait, so Heath (sweetly, I thought) volunteered to wait for me.
I knew he was willing to do it because he said so, but he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else. He was too restless and edgy to ever take waiting in stride.
Having this in mind, I tried to go through the rest of my list quickly, hoping to relieve or at least keep him company before he lost his patience, and oh, I don’t know, stormed the meat counter.
I caught glimpses of him as I perused the produce. He had women on either side of him in line, and the redheaded one behind him seemed to be trying to get his attention.
Of course this had me peeking between shopping, watching in small glimpses as she inched closer to him.
She was young. No surprise there. And hot. Again, no surprise. Sin City was teeming with young hot things, all here to pursue a career in the seedier side of the entertainment business.
She struck me as a performer on an off day, her face scrubbed free of makeup, her clothes casual but revealing a shapely, lithe figure. She had the body and looks that fit anything from an acrobat to a showgirl, or perhaps a cocktail waitress if she was really new to town.
And she just kept inching closer to Heath. Every time I looked, she was a step further into his space.
Oh my God. I was jealous. Again. Viciously so. And I hated it.
Jealousy was more powerful of a thing than I’d ever given it credit for, I realized.
The idea of it was so much less volatile than the feeling of it.
The actuality of it, where before it had always been in my mind some sort of abstract concept, was quietly blowing my mind with how awful it was.
No wonder it was so destructive.
I wanted to do something violent and mean to that nitwit for so much as trying to get his attention.
It was insane. I hated that woman. She was my enemy the second she made a move on him.
Which was so out of character for me.
I was a girl’s girl. It was kind of ridiculous how easily I made female friends on a regular basis.
I was a woman that bonded with other women, fast and easy.
I was close with every girl my boys had ever dated for any length of time. Hell, I made new girlfriends nearly every time I went shoe shopping.
I racked my mind and couldn’t come up with a time in recent memory that I’d met a woman and had it even cross my mind to look at them as competition.