My Only Regret

It looked like rain. Great. Damn you Tom Summers! You and your lies! It is not sunny with a gentle breeze. It is chilly with swirling dark clouds and a considerable squall. Weatherman my foot! You get me all excited for a nice day and look what I get. Freaking storm clouds. Christian better make this worth my while. He better propose. If I make another trip up her for nothing hell will break loose.

AHHHH finally! My exit. MINE! Oh joy, oh rapture. GOD yes! No, NO! GET OUT OF MY WAY YOU FUCKING TRUCKER! I sped into the exit ramp affectively cutting him off. He honks and I flip him to bird. Yes! SIX HOURS OVER, DONE! HA-HA! I rolled the window down letting the cool mountain air fill the car and my lungs. Cold and crisp and sweet; I nearly cried. I was a giddy with relief. I hate driving though the mountains. I have terrible luck and I just wait for that popped tire.

The borough of Trent Summit smiled at me. I mean really smiled. The place was absolutely charming. Victorian houses nestled upon delicately rolling hills and evergreen forests. Main Street with its flowery boutiques and family owned businesses. The little tots with their book bags bouncing as they run off the school bus to meet mommy in her curlers and robe. It was, in a way, good to be back. I'm a city gal, plain and simple I come with all that it implies. I hate bugs, (I mean I HATE them) dirt is dirty, yay for stable electricity, go city water, party equals high heels and wine not a tractor and a six-pack. My soon-to-be-fiancée teases that I'm high maintenance. He is incorrect; I'm civilized. I was born and raised in small middle class town not far from here. I grew up, I got a degree, I got out. Just because I prefer go to a gallery opening instead of cow tipping does not make me high maintenance.

I turned onto Oak Way and made my way up his very steep hill. Also known as Hell if you drive a stick like myself. So up, up I go and around the corner to adjacent Caliber Street, I park six houses in at a tri-color Victorian. It's a warm yellow, with white trim and blue shutters. Lovely. I hit the E-brake and enjoy the silence. Finally. Home. Well not for me. I mean Christian wants to keep his family home, for sort of Vacation House and while I understand the sentiment I refuse to make this trip annually. I step out, carefully. His drive is chipped and the LAST thing I want to do after that burly-ass drive is break a heel. I grab my purse from the passenger seat and make my way up the stoop. The door is open and I let myself in.

"Christian, honey? I'm here." I call. The inside of his childhood home is as darling as the outside. Wood floors, crystal chandeliers, dark wood furniture, earth toned walls, its really quite stunning. Apparently it was more 'country' before his parents moved out and closer to their Antique store, that uh-hem specialized in Jewelry, I know how to pick 'em don't I, it gets better, wait. I'd only been here once before and the last time I didn't come inside. After Christian moved in he updated the place a little or in my opinion a lot. Painted and repaired, modernized the electronics and appliances, even did electrical and pipe work. Lets say he put a big old shiny penny into this place. I was against it but who am I to say? Soft voices and footfalls told me somebody was home.

"I'll be right down, Dee." A male voice i.e. Christian, called. I tossed my purse onto the table in the middle of the foyer and lifted my left foot up to start undoing my heel. A second pair of feet coming down the stairs surprised me and left it on. As I straighten a pair of hiking boots with a tall, dark, and handsome man came into a view followed by a small mousy looking woman in red tennis shoes. Now I don't care who you are or how much you trust your man, when you come home, or wherever, and find him alone, even with a homely broad like this. You fall into some animalistic rage, or maybe a lesser more sensible variation of that. But, you're never just curious, or contemplative, you're ready to cut a bitch. Me? I did that rage thing.

I was ready to beat Miss, overalls and ponytail with a rock. I sized her up. She was young, maybe three years my junior and pretty in a plain way. Upturned nose, average eyes, medium cheekbones, plump cheeks, little rounded chin. Something eased inside of me when I realized I was prettier then her, petty yes but fuck it, it made me feel better. She was a bit flushed, she better hope it was from the running. Her standard brown hair was drifting out of her pony a bit, and I say drifting because her hair was too thin to fall or burst out of anything. Her overalls where stained from what looking like oil. Her eyes widened when she saw me. Good.

Christian hadn't stopped at the base of the stairs like little Miss. Mouse; he kept a steady pace until we were toe to toe. I hadn't seen him in three months. He had been so busy with the damn house and keeping his parents business afloat. He was a dream. I mean that in more then his looks. Which are fabulous. He is all dark hair and darker eyes, healthy tan and healthier leaner body which, by the way, comes WELL equipped. But like I said its more then that, he's the American dream. From Trent Summit, son of a jeweler to New York City, poster boy for an international precious stones conglomerate.(I told you it got better.) His arms incased my waist and he brought his face down to mine.

"Hi." He said in that way of his that makes things low in me stir.

"Hi." I responded. He kissed me. A slight open-mouthed kiss with warm supple lips that made me forget all about little Miss. Mouse. I clung to him to the heat of his body and was reminded fully why I loved him. He set me back on my feet and ran his hands up and down my arms.

"You look great." He said appreciatively. Oh, I know I did. I'd dressed to kill. Say hello to little gold dress. It was a second skin coming only to mid thigh. Conservative square cut in the front; dipped so low in the back if I tugged on it you'd see my ass crack. Paired up with sexy black heels that used gold hoops holding the straps together. The only piece of jewelry was antique gold cross he'd given me on our third anniversary. The outfit wasn't as classy as I tried to wear it was meant for driving this man crazy. I had air-dried my hair, meaning that instead of sleek and straight it was a slightly curled and seductive just the way he liked it. I hadn't gone heavy on the makeup either, I really didn't need it, and because I'm a woman who thinks I look better with makeup on, I'll admit it took me years to say I didn't look 'sick' with no make-up. A little eyeliner, a little blush, a little gloss and I was good to go. Really. I was blessed with good skin, truly blessed because I know how rare that is. I was also blessed with an athletic figure, long lashed eyes and boobs. Little Miss. Mousy eat your heart out!

Speaking of her I gave Christian a telling jab and he swung us around.

"Molly," Uh! She WOULD have a name like Molly. Look at me I'm cute and innocent, Molly. "This is Dillon Harper." The way he said it made my heart flutter. This was emphasized like they'd talked about me before, like I was his, which I was but the fact he pronounced it like that made me feel substantially better. "Dillon this is Molly Graves. Her dad is Alan, you know, my contractor," I nodded like I knew even though I had no idea, " and she's helping me out with some things around the house." Molly gave me a low wave of her hand and I smiled at her. A smile that was trusting and friendly. No way she saw the semi-hatred behind it.

"Nice to meet you." I said.

"You to," she replied softly, he voice was just as wispy as she was. "I'll be off now Mr. Miller." And she started for the door, avoided my eyes and his, and flowed around the table.

"Thank-you Molly. I'll see you Tuesday!" he called. She threw him a slight smile and wave and was gone. He turned to me and smiled, then really saw me and hunger took over. He pressed me close and growled.

"I've missed you."

"I missed you to." I said. He kissed me again sweeping me up against him, devouring me. I kissed him back and we were lost. I don't know how long we stayed like that but I was on my back on the little round table and he was unbuckling his belt before a knock at the door brought us back down to earth. Good God, don't be his mother! He straightened himself and tried a polite smile.

"I've got your tiles." Said a very brisk, very strong, and very familiar voice. No, I was wrong it couldn't be. I turned ever so slightly on the table and took the deliveryman in. I almost fainted. My heart was lodged in my throat, hot and alive and impossible to swallow. It was beating wildly like a trapped thing; I couldn't believe my eyes.

He stood at the open threshold with a clipboard, lopsided smile and his unvarying outfit. Plain white T, Wranglers and beat-up boots, he was even wearing his black baseball cap. This, this wasn't happening. THIS WASN'T HAPPENING. Joel. My Joel. Childhood friend and first kiss. My only regret.

"Dill?" he said surprised, blonde eyebrows lifting. That was the last thing I remember. Oh yeah, and the sound of my head smacking tabletop.

To be continued...