Songbird

Three: Colt

"Beau, ONE bag of Doritos, not three. ONE!" I commanded before my son went running down the grocery aisle. I sighed and leaned onto our cart, continuing the monotonous march forward. My head was already pounding, and the day had barely even begun.

It had been four days since Lennie's return and I was seeing her everywhere, both figuratively and literally. She was with Cora at the bar, saw her Monday morning at the bank, saw her Monday night at the one Mexican restaurant in town. Apparently, I was going to have to give up chile rellenos and I was not thrilled about it, because dodging her evidently wasn't an option. I didn't even know why I was trying to avoid her. We'd sort of smoothed things over in the truck that first night, but everything still felt... weird. We were friends, but we weren't enemies, and I guess if I was going to keep bumping into her, that was the best I could hope for. The problem was? I couldn't get her out of my fucking head, no matter how much I tried. And believe me, I had tried.

If she wasn't standing in front of me, she was walking her way through my brain. Old memories, new daydreams. A vision of some kind of mushy-gushy Hallmark movie future that had never once been in the cards for me. Hell, it wasn't something I even cared about having. Or at least it hadn't been. Until that tanned skinned, chocolate haired distraction had sashayed herself back into my life. It was all there, all of the time, all loud and pounding, even when I was asleep.

Ugh. Pounding. I should've chosen a different word.

Look, it wasn't like I had planned on becoming a completely celibate monk, it was just the cards I was dealt. I wasn't a love 'em and leave 'em kind of guy, never had been. So, when your first love runs away, and the woman you thought you were going to marry, dies, things of the romantic nature kind of take a nosedive off your priority list. Especially when you've got a baby to raise all on your own. Beau had taken every bit of attention, patience, and energy I had, especially since I wasn't much more than a kid myself. Even when he got older, more independent, the idea of getting myself back on the proverbial dating horse wasn't something I was interested in doing. And maybe I didn't deserve it. I had ruined one life, no need to put anyone else through it.

And then a few years back, when just maybe I started to have an inkling, then my mom moved in, and well, if there had even been the idea of maybe just a one-night stand or two, that burned to fucking ash around me. Bringing a girl back to the home I shared with my son and my nosy mother was definitely not an option. But then... she came back, and Lennie's tan legs and little honeysuckle smile was a great reminder that though my heart was dead, my member (and my libido) was, in fact, not.

I found myself wondering what she liked. Was she a soft and slow type of girl? Did she want the romance and gentle touches? Soft, whispered nothings? Fingertips dancing across every inch of freckled skin they could find? Did she want candles and romance and all of that?

Or was she the 'Throw me up against the wall and take me" type? Did she want to be told what to do and when to do it? Did she want to be at her lover's mercy? Was she a quick and dirty in the dark alley kind of a girl? Was she after that "I want you so much, I can't wait any longer" type of action? Because, truth be told, at this point, that's where my fucking head was. All I needed was a yes from her and a wall... or maybe a bathroom or something.

I cursed myself for not being the first one to make love to her. I cursed myself for not being the most recent. I cursed myself for caring at all. And I cursed myself for trying to pretend I didn't care.

God, this was a fucking disaster waiting to happen.

"Why Lennie Tyler! Look at you!"

I stopped in my tracks, my eyes shooting wide open upon hearing my mother's exclamation and the slap of flipflops on the grocery store linoleum behind me.