The Unexpected Affair Read online

  “Forgive you for what?” she asked. What was he referring to?

  “For not calling when we returned to the States.”

  “And the woman you were with?” she asked. “Not that I care. And you don’t owe me an explanation. We’re not in a relationship or anything.”

  “What woman?”

  “It’s not a big deal. Forget I mentioned it.”

  “What woman?” he asked again.

  “Last night, at Max’s.”

  He thought for a moment. “Oh, you mean my cousin?”

  Was he seriously going to use the cousin excuse?

  “Yeah...your cousin.” She said it sarcastically, a smile in the corner of her mouth. She shook her head.

  “Yes, I was with my cousin Nicole at Max’s last night. It was her birthday and she insisted that I take her out for a drink,” he said. “Not that I owe you an explanation or anything.”

  “You’re right.”

  “So you were at Max’s,” he said emphatically.

  “Yes.”

  “And you didn’t bother to say hello.”

  “You were busy.”

  “Not for you.”

  “Apparently so.”

  “Were you alone?”

  “With Kenya.”

  “How do I know that? Maybe you were tucked away in the corner with some guy.”

  “I went there after work for a drink with Kenya. Spilling my guts about how I had this incredible time in the Bahamas with a guy that I really like, and we get back to the States and I don’t hear a peep from him!”

  “So you like me?”

  “That’s totally beyond the point.”

  “I was an asshole.” He moved closer, grabbed her by the waist.

  “Such an asshole.”

  “But you forgive me.”

  “I don’t,” she lied. She’d forgiven him the moment she saw his beautiful face in her classroom. “I don’t forgive you. I’m done. And when I say I’m done, I really mean it.”

  “You mean it?” he asked, his lips grazing her neck.

  Her breathing increased. Something always happened to her emotions when he got close.

  “I mean it,” she whispered.

  His hand touched the small of her back, massaged it. His lips touched hers, and he kissed her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

  “I can’t...forgive you...”

  His lips covered hers. When the bell rang for the students to return to class, she knew she needed to break free from his embrace, but she struggled. Her hormones were already stirred.

  “I know your students will be here in a moment.” He kissed her nose. “Have dinner with me later.”

  “I’m still mad,” she said.

  “Mad people still have to eat.”

  She knew she should play hard to get, teach him a lesson. She usually didn’t let men off the hook so easily. One strike and they were out of the game—and out of her life. But this was different. She felt herself crumbling, and she didn’t like it one bit. It had been a long time since she’d felt what she was feeling for this guy who was all wrong for her. But she couldn’t control it. She was a woman who was always in control, yet every second she was in his presence she was losing it.

  “I’ll pick you up at eight.”

  “Fine,” she heard her voice say.

  She watched as he left and her kindergarten class pounded into the room.

  * * *

  She didn’t have much time to analyze her feelings. After a long afternoon, she had a small window to get home, shower and get dressed for dinner. She decided to wear something sexy, though she hadn’t a clue about where he was taking her. She chose the red dress that she’d purchased her last trip to New York with Kenya and Tasha. The spaghetti straps were the only things covering her shoulders. She put silver earrings in her ears and stepped into a pair of strappy sexy heels. She heard the doorbell just as she dabbed her neck with perfume.

  She rushed to the front door and peeped out. Lane stood on her doorstep. He’d changed into a pair of jeans and an old Mizzou T-shirt. She wondered if their signals had been crossed. She thought about how he had mentioned dinner. And dinner in her book meant that he’d be taking her someplace nice—not another sports bar like the one they’d gone to on their first date. She felt disappointed. He was definitely not in her league, she thought.

  She swung the door open and immediately felt overdressed.

  “Wow,” he said. “You look beautiful.”

  “I guess I should’ve asked how I should dress.”

  “I think you nailed it.”

  “I feel overdressed. Maybe I should change.”

  “I think you look perfect. Just live in the moment for a change. You spend too much time trying to make sure things are this way or that. Just enjoy the space you’re in right now. You look beautiful... Who cares if it’s the appropriate attire.”

  She grabbed her purse from the kitchen counter. “Okay,” she said.

  * * *

  He held the door open and she hopped into the cab of his pickup. Slid into the passenger’s seat and pulled the seat belt around her waist. Hip-hop music blared from his speakers as he pulled out of her subdivision.

  “Sorry, this is my song,” he said and turned the volume up.

  “Lil Wayne?” she asked in a judgmental tone.

  “Yes. You have a problem with Lil Wayne?”

  “So many. How much time do you have?” she said. “He curses too much, too many tattoos. Not to mention his outlook on life is somewhat warped. Just my opinion.”

  “What does that have to do with his music?”

  “Are you even listening to the lyrics of this song?”

  “No, I just like the beat. Makes me want to move in my seat. But if I had to think about him as a person, I admire his struggle. He had a poverty-stricken upbringing, much like mine,” said Lane. “My mom was a single mother who raised three boys on her own.”

  “I bet it was hard for her.”

  “She refused to take any handouts after my pops walked out on us. And she made sure that every one of us went to college,” he said. “Football was my saving grace. So when I look at Lil Wayne, I know that he’s not much different from me. Just a young kid who found his way out through his talent—music.”

  “I guess that’s a way of looking at it.” She gazed out the window. Wondered where he was taking her.

  When he finally pulled the truck into a parking lot, she sat up straight in her seat. The sign read Bachman Lake. He pulled into an available space.

  “What are we doing here?” she asked.

  He shut the engine off, hopped out of the truck and came around to open her door. He helped her out of the truck. “You’ll see.”

  She followed him toward the lake. He held on to her as she attempted to walk across the grass in heels. She was grateful that the rain had cleared, yet the grass was still a bit damp. This was certainly not what she’d had in mind when he’d invited her to dine with him. She enjoyed surprises as much as the next person, but her patience was wearing thin. She felt his fingers intertwine with hers.

  “Look at that sunset,” he said. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  It was, she thought. “Yes.”

  Then she saw it—a table in the middle of the grass, a crisp white tablecloth covering it, and a single red rose in a vase in the center of the table. A small speaker played Caribbean music, and the place setting for two was carefully arranged. A smile crept into the corner of her mouth. He walked over and pulled her chair out, held his hand out and beckoned her to have a seat. She sat down and he walked around to his chair across from her.

  “I know you were probably expecting a lobster tail or juicy steak, but I’m afraid you’ll have to se
ttle for Rudy’s Fried Chicken. The best fried chicken this side of Dallas.”

  She laughed. Fried chicken was not at all what she’d expected, but she was impressed by his ingenuity.

  “I’ve never had Rudy’s.”

  “What?” he asked. “How long have you lived in Dallas?”

  “Long enough.”

  “Well, obviously you’ve been sheltered, so let’s bring you up to speed,” said Lane.

  “And you pulled all of this together by yourself?”

  “No, I had a coconspirator.”

  She recognized the young lady from Max’s as she walked toward them from the parking lot. “I forgot the wine,” she said. “Had to run back and grab it.”

  “Whitney, this is my cousin Nicole. Nicole, Whitney.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Whitney. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

  “Pleased to meet you, too.”

  Nicole pulled two wineglasses from her huge purse, placed one in front of each of them and poured.

  “Thanks, Nicole,” said Lane.

  “You owe me, big-time,” she tried whispering, but Whitney heard her.

  “I took you out for drinks last night,” said Lane. “And on a work night, too.”

  “Yes, you did—” she lowered her voice to a whisper “—but the line at Rudy’s was wrapped around the building!”

  “It always is,” said Lane. “Thank you for going the extra mile.”

  “I’m just glad to see you step out of your box for a change. Man!” She turned to Whitney. “He never does anything like this for anyone. I think he really likes you.”

  “That will be all, Nicole. Thank you,” Lane interrupted.

  “He’s a really great guy,” Nicole continued. “A workaholic, and really stubborn sometimes...but a great guy. I hope you’ll give him a second chance.”

  “Nicole, really?”

  “I’m going!” said Nicole. “It was very nice meeting you, Whitney.”

  “Very nice meeting you, Nicole,” said Whitney as she giggled.

  Nicole walked away. Whitney and Lane locked eyes.

  “She was sweet,” said Whitney.

  “You weren’t thinking that last night,” joked Lane.

  “You’re right. I wasn’t. But this...this is all very nice, and thoughtful.”

  “Thank you.”

  “So what is it that you needed to sort through?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. The Bahamas had my emotions stirred. I wasn’t sure what it was I was feeling when I returned. And I certainly don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Hurt me how?”

  “I’m no good at relationships. I work a lot, my hours are crazy, I like to be alone sometimes...”

  “I work a lot and I like my alone time, too. Love my girl time.”

  “I just felt like the next step was a commitment and I wasn’t sure that’s what I wanted.”

  “We don’t have to decide any of that right away. What’s wrong with taking our time?”

  “Nothing,” he said.

  “We should let things happen at their own pace.”

  “I’m cool with that.”

  “But we have to be respectful of each other and return calls and text messages. Even if we’re feeling unsure about things,” she warned.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “And as long as we keep the lines of communication open and discuss stuff...”

  “I’m okay with that,” said Lane. “I had a wonderful time in the Bahamas. You have an awesome family.”

  “Thank you. I like them, too.”

  “I appreciate you inviting me. I never do anything like that.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I don’t know where this is going, but I would like to continue seeing you. Every chance I get.”

  “Me, too.” She smiled.

  She took a sip of her wine and felt content. Though it wasn’t a fancy restaurant with hors d’oeuvres and the like, it had to be the best dinner she’d had in a very, very long time.

  Chapter 20

  She’d long kicked her shoes off and sat across from him on the sofa, waving her arms in the air, trying to get her point across. They’d talked politics and relationships, world issues and religion for three hours straight. Lane glanced at the clock on the wall for the first time and watched as the hands approached two o’clock. He’d lost track of time, and the liquor didn’t help. The more they drank, the more they talked. He yawned. His workweek had caught up with him.

  “You’re sleepy,” she said. “I’ve worn out my welcome.”

  “No! I’ve really enjoyed talking to you.”

  “Is it almost two already?” she asked.

  “That it is.”

  “I’m sorry.” She stood. “You should drive me home.”

  “I don’t think either of us should drive like this,” he stated. “The last thing we need is to get into an accident or get stopped by the cops.”

  “I’m just a little tipsy.”

  “You should stay. It’s Friday night, so neither of us has to work in the morning.”

  Lane had become quite comfortable with Whitney. He hadn’t met anyone in a long time that he wanted more than a roll in the hay with. The women he met—some of them were desperate, many of them gold diggers looking for a man to take care of them. None of them held his attention for any length of time. However, after meeting Whitney, he actually entertained the thought of a future with a woman. She was easy to be with and even easier to talk to. He shared things with her, things he hadn’t shared with anyone, old wounds he hadn’t opened in years. Sharing with her made his demons seem less scary.

  He’d told her all about Lane Jr. and what an incredible athlete he was, but telling her wasn’t quite the same as her seeing it in person. She needed to see him play and judge for herself.

  “Lane Jr. has a game in the morning. I would love for you to come.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. You need to see how good he is out there. He’s dominating the football field. Just like his old dad used to do.”

  “I’m sure he is, but do you think my coming to his game is such a good idea?”

  “I think it’s a great idea.”

  “I want to make sure it’s healthy for him. For us.”

  “Can you stop being an educator for a moment. It’s just a football game, sweetheart.”

  “Okay.” Whitney giggled. “I’ll go.”

  “Good.” He stood. “I have two guest bedrooms. You can take either one that you want. Or you’re welcome to sleep in my bedroom, with me. I won’t touch you, unless you want me to.”

  “Okay. I’ll take one of the guest rooms.”

  “Okay. Feel free to make yourself at home. The bathroom is down the hall.” He pointed toward the bathroom. “And there’s my room in case you need anything.”

  “Great.”

  She chose the middle bedroom and Lane was grateful because he’d recently placed fresh sheets on the bed. He flipped on the light for her and handed her the remote control for the television.

  “Do you need an extra blanket?”

  “No, I think I’ll be fine.”

  “If you need anything, I’m right in here.”

  “Okay, good night,” she said.

  “Good night.”

  Lane was completely exhausted and knew that sleep would find him the moment his head hit the pillow. He went into his bedroom, changed into a pair of shorts and an old T-shirt. He left the door ajar in case Whitney needed anything. He sat on the side of the bed and unlocked his phone. Sent a text.

  You ready?

  Yea dad, I’m ready.

  How did practice go?

 
It was okay. Coach was hard today.

  Listen to your coach.

  I will.

  Ok, good night, son. I’ll see you tomorrow.

  Gn dad.

  He shut his phone and crawled beneath the covers. He turned off the bedside lamp. He was exhausted but suddenly not so sleepy. His phone jingled. A text message.

  Are you asleep yet?

  He smiled when he read Whitney’s text.

  It’s only been five minutes.

  I miss you already.

  He turned the bedside light back on. Got up and went to the guest bedroom. Whitney was curled up beneath the covers. He could see her shadow in the darkness. He didn’t bother to turn on the light, just crawled into the queen-size bed next to her. Wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. She felt good there, like she belonged in his arms. She snuggled against him. Before long he could hear light snores escaping from her mouth. He smiled. She would never believe him if he told her she snored, for real this time. So he’d keep it to himself. Soon his eyes were too heavy to remain open, and he gave in to the sleep.

  On Saturday morning, Lane Jr. was on the field warming up. Soon he glanced across the field and gave his father a wave. Lane waved back. His ex-wife, Helena, followed her son’s eyes and spotted Lane in the bleachers. He gave her a smile and a wave. She didn’t smile back, just waved and then instantly locked her eyes on Whitney. She watched as they took their seats and then adjusted in hers so that her back was to them. He’d learned long ago that the best way to deal with her was to kill her with kindness. She would never get another opportunity to hurt him.

  Lane Jr. always played like a polished athlete. Lane was on his best behavior. He was learning to control his temper during the game so he wouldn’t get thrown from the field again. Being ejected didn’t feel good and didn’t provide the best example for his son. He knew that Lane Jr. wouldn’t be very receptive to Whitney at first—he’d always had hopes of his parents reuniting, but Lane was confident that if he gave her a chance, he’d become fond of her, too. He hoped, anyway.

  All he said when he met her was “Hey.”

  “That was quite a game you played out there, young man,” said Whitney.

  “Thanks.”

  “You work on that pass a little bit, and you’d be flawless.”