Sweet As You

(5) Kathie Jane

She combs my hair with her fingers, which leads me to conclude I'm sporting that fuzzy look someone a few drinks in would have.

"She's with her oldest son tonight. He doesn't really go out much unlike his five other siblings, so you probably never met him."

"Poor guy." I propped my elbow and plunk my chin on my palm.

She shrugs. "He's a bit of a recluse, that's all."

"Ah. A lone wolf."

My mother turns to her still thunder-struck husband and smoothed a hand over his tie. "I thought I told you no alcohol tonight."

"I never had any, sweetheart. Not even a drop." He clutches her wrist, giving her knuckle a kiss. It was one of his ways of buttering up my mother. And it works every single time.

She sighed, relenting. "Fine. Have you seen your sister, Kathie? She's gaining some weight and I can't help but wonder why."

"It's understandable, babe. With another baby on the way, she sure is going to gain weight."

I gasped. "Dad."

He gulps, color leaving his face. "Sorry, sweetie."

"Chassie's pregnant? And you two were not telling me?" She has her hands on her waist, her delicate brows knotting together.

"We were going to tell you. Chassie is surprising Nathan on their honeymoon and she doubts we can keep it a secret until then," I say.

Mom nods slowly. "Oh. Okay."

"Okay. I'll go ahead and repent. Maybe beg Chassie for forgiveness." I slide down the bar stool, blinking when the drinks I just had weighed heavily on me. I shake my head, walking toward the throng of people.

"Kathie." Margaret waved me over to their table.

I swerved to her direction, plastering on a smile. It won't hurt to say hi. She sits with another friend – someone I saw in social gatherings. On her left, though, is a man I almost don't recognize which is strange because I know everybody.

I gathered the skirt of my dress and squinted curiously at the man. My jaw dropped when my mind buzzing with alcohol was finally able to place him.

It's my neighbor.

I yelped in surprise – not from the realization – as I tripped on my foot and revved forward.

I thought it would be embarrassing to fall face first on the floor. Turns out, possibly face-planting on a man's lap is a motherload of awkwardness enough to last me lifetime.

Cutleries and glasses clattered as I bump the top of my head on their table. My hands clawed his thighs in attempt of jerking myself back.

He lets out a startled breath. His hands went to my shoulders, helping me up.

I craned my neck to look up.

He gazes down, eyes narrowing in recognition.

I have to stop meeting him like this.

"Kathie, are you okay?" Margaret leaps out of her chair and walked around the table.

My own mother was rushing toward us. "Jesus, honey. You dove right onto Cade." I was tugged into a brief hug and held in arm's length for a quick perusal. "Does it hurt somewhere?"

"No." I scrape my knee a little, but that's just a minor inconvenience. Everybody must have seen me crash landing on his lap. Nothing calls attention in a quiet gathering than rattling dishes.

Margaret is on my neighbor's side. He stood, motionless.

My eyes fluctuated between the two of them.

Oh, hell no. Now, I really am having the worst luck.

Cade the neighbor is Margaret Parkinson's oldest son.

"I'm fine. I just tripped on something." I fixed a bright smile on my face. "Nothing's broken."

Margaret sighed in relief. "Are you sure, sweetie?"

"Yeah. Perfectly fine."

She nods, turning to the man on her side. "This is my son."

"Cade," I murmured.

"Kathie, you met him before?" My mother mused.

"Yeah. We moved into the same apartment building." I shove the memory of that one awkward incident into the back of my mind. I thought he was just going to be a distant neighbor.

What on earth are the odds?

5