15 #SangriaSocial

Teddi was still clutching her aromatherapy pendant after Jon disconnected their call, and squinted with confusion at the screen that had gone black.

What just happened here?

He’d been… friendly after the lecture on social media trolls.  At a bare minimum, he was playful.  If she wasn’t trying to keep proper perspective here, Teddi might go so far as to say he’d been flirting.  There was even a spark of enthusiasm when she confessed to having cookies, she’d thought. 

That spark had given her a spark of her own.  Or, more accurately, a vision of him in her kitchen with those cookies.  With her…

She could almost see him licking the powdered sugar from his thumb.  Could almost smell the sweetness of it floating in the air like fairy dust.  Could almost taste the residue of it on his lips. 

The clarity of it had been enough to throw her into a panic when he suggested coming to get them, because she simply couldn’t be trusted to remain aloof.  Too many things had happened.  Her imagination had created too many instances of innuendo during their encounters for the past ten days.  Each one was a Jenga building block, and his knock on her front door would knock the entire foundation out from under them. 

That’s why she’d blurted out the word “date” instead of “appointment”, with the hope that it would discourage him.

Well, her mission was accomplished in a major way.  The spark in Jon’s eyes had died, and his playful demeanor was replaced by a hollow politeness. 

It was so abrupt and unwanted that she impulsively blurted again, this time with drivel about the flowers.  She’d purposefully held off mentioning them, biding her time in hope of just the right opening to ask about the card sentiment.  Did he think of her that way?  As afraid? 

Now she’d likely never know, but at least her social graces were intact.  Her window of opportunity for a real conversation might’ve snapped shut like a rat trap, but she had still managed to blunder through an acceptable show of gratitude.   

One that he’d barely acknowledged before darting for the proverbial door.

Teddi was disappointed to discover she didn’t understand him.  He’d warned her about that, of course, by showing up for their first call looking as though he just came from the gym.  She just hadn’t truly believed that thirty years’ worth of articles, interviews and video footage were unable to prepare her for Jon Bon Jovi the man. 

She knew the showman, and even snippets of trivia about his personal likes and dislikes, but not him.  Not what motivated him to send gorgeous flowers with insightful messages.  Not his reasons for flavoring a business arrangement with sprinkles of flirtation. 

But she wanted to.

She wanted to very badly.

The Hall of Fame takes priority over what you want.

While true, the two weren’t mutually exclusive.  The job only prevented her from being inappropriate.  It didn’t stop her from getting acquainted using her mind instead of her hormones.  She could find other ways to exercise her hormonal thoughts.

One of those ways was ringing her doorbell right now. 

After checking her security camera to confirm her visitor, Teddi rose from the desk.  She absently smoothed hands down the legs of white capris as her espadrilles moved quietly over wood and tile to the front door.  Even after Pierce’s many visits to her home, she was slightly on edge when twisting the knob. 

Her smile expertly disguised the feeling and there was no evidence of it in her pleasantly greeted, “Hello. How was traffic?”

No one knew the anxiety she battled on a daily basis.  Even in a comfortable, familiar setting it could unexpectedly grip her insides in an icy vice.  Only training and sheer determination enabled her to give the appearance of normalcy that no one had ever questioned.

Until Jon Bon Jovi. 

That is, unless Teddi was being silly by finding hidden meaning in idle words.  She cursed the way their call had unfolded because now it was yet one more thing to haunt her.

Torture yourself later.  You have a guest. 

Pierce’s smile was subdued but brilliant inside close-cropped facial hair.  “Traffic was… better than usual.  Instead of being the usual seventh ring of Hell, it was probably only the second.” 

“I’m glad.” 

Stepping aside, she made way for him to enter and closed the door.  Because of the repetition and routine of his visits, they were normally easy for Teddi – without the ever-present anxiety.  Such wasn’t the case tonight.  She was unsettled and fidgety from Jon’s call.  She needed a minute before it would be possible to enjoy Pierce’s company.    

“Pierce, would you like to join me in the living room for a drink?”

It was an invitation that had been extended only once before, upon his first visit here.  Teddi had taken a moment before their initial encounter to clear the air and ensure they shared similar expectations.  That simple drink had done wonders, paving the way for an uncomplicated arrangement that didn’t need additional maintenance. 

The suggestion didn’t appear to shock Pierce, whom she’d come to find was comfortable in any situation.  He was completely at ease when saying, “That would be nice.”

“Wonderful.  Scotch and soda, as I recall?  I also have a pitcher of fresh sangria, if that interests you.”

“Sangria sounds good.”

With a brisk nod, she gestured down the entry hall.  “Please.  Make yourself comfortable in the living room while I get it.”

She returned shortly with two goblets of the fruity wine concoction and paused next to his armchair to deliver one.  Teddi sat with hers on the adjacent sofa, on the end nearest him. 

“Good sangria,” he complimented, lifting the glass in salute.

A fleeting smile was her show of thanks as Teddi took an absent sip that was barely enough to wet her mouth.  There definitely wasn’t enough alcohol in it to loosen her tongue, yet she found herself saying, “Pierce…”

“Yes?”  The question was easy and unbothered as one long leg crossed over the other. 

“The last time we met, you said you thought of us as friends.”

“I did,” he affirmed with a nod.  “I do.”

“In that vein, would you mind me asking a question?”

“Not at all.  What’s on your mind?”

Condensation from the goblet dampened her left hand, and a thin sheen of perspiration coated the right.  She subtly blotted the perspiring palm on her pant leg before reaching for her necklace.  “What do you think of me?”

“Could you be a little more specific?”  The draw of his brows spoke of confusion, and Teddi couldn’t blame him.  She was confused, too. 

“I rather wondered how you might describe me to someone else.”

That didn’t clear his brow but rather turned it thoughtful.  “That’s an interesting question.  One I’ve thought about a time or two, oddly enough.”

“Oh my.”  She lifted her sangria and swallowed the sweetness, willing it to wash down her regret at starting down this path. 

“No need to resort to alcoholism,” he chuckled.  “I’ve just never known anyone quite like you.  Granted, I don’t really know you.  Just have impressions gathered during our time together.”

When he paused to take what felt like a never-ending drink, Teddi couldn’t keep herself from good-naturedly prodding, “Well, don’t stop there, for heaven’s sake.   I detest cliffhangers.”

“No cliffhanger intended,” he assured with an encouraging smile. “Just gathering the right words.”

“Forgive my impatience.”

He dismissed the apology with a shake of the head before thoughtfully broaching, “In some ways you remind me of my Aunt Helen, who likes to host classic book discussions over high tea with her lady friends.  Genteel.  Aristocratic, with impeccable manners and always knowing the right thing to say.”

He could’ve been describing Grandmother Peabody, which was both a compliment and somewhat disturbing.  Teddi knew she had conformed to the mold the woman set before her, but even as a young child, she’d understood there was little choice in the matter.  By the time she reached the age of rebellion, she was so fiercely and properly molded that her rebellion was low-key at best.  It mostly consisted of the Bon Jovi obsession that had become a bit like her security blanket.

So while he’d pegged her as a prig, at least Pierce hadn’t painted her as fearful.  He could subscribe to the “people in glass houses” philosophy, though.  An unmarried forty-year-old man clearly possessed a few of his own fears, with the obvious being commitment. Unless he was divorced?  She'd never bothered asking, but that might indicate a different type of fear.

Stop analyzing and find some pleasure in the evening.

“Your Aunt Helen sounds lovely.  Thank you for indulging my curiosity.”

Placid eyes tracked Teddi’s movement as she rose, but Pierce didn’t rise with her.  “I wasn’t finished.  Did you want to hear the rest?”

Did she?

If you didn’t want to know, you wouldn’t have asked.

Fingers grasping the goblet stem a bit tighter than necessary, Teddi sank back to the sofa.  “I’m sorry.  Of course.  Please go on.”

Pierce angled himself more cozily toward her, and the change of position caused the muscles to flex attractively under his black t-shirt. 

There was no questioning Pierce’s sexual appeal, and she could attest to the fact it wasn’t just superficial.  He knew everything a woman hoped that a man would know.  It would be less problematic if she developed an infatuation for him. 

Perhaps if she got to know his mind as well as his body… 

“While you do remind me of Aunt Helen,” he interrupted her mental rambling with an easy wink.  “I’ve seen you in positions that I never want to imagine her in.  And in those moments, you remind me of Mother Earth.”

“I beg your pardon?  Mother Earth?  Do you mean a hippie?”  Good Lord above, she’d never been called a hippie in her life. 

“Not a hippie,” he corrected with a heavy dose of humor.  “Raw.  Organic.  Laying aside aristocracy to chase your own natural instincts.”

Her cheeks took on heat at the embarrassing compliment.  It was a compliment, wasn’t it?  Surely he intended it to be. 

“Oh.  Well… thank you.  I think.”

“Definitely meant as a compliment.  It’s just a shame that you segregate your personality that way.  You’re an attractive and interesting woman, but I have a sneaking suspicion that if you let Mother Earth invade the book club once in a while…  You’d be a siren, luring men to death in their efforts to get you.”    

Siren?  Her?  She snorted softly into her sangria.

“I’m serious, Teddi.  A woman who knows the rules of society and doesn’t give a flying fuck about breaking them?  That’s hot.”

“You’re describing one of my cousins, not me.”  Tori was the one who held the finishing school training and chose to snub her nose at it more often than not.  She was the one who lived life out loud, while Teddi watched life from afar with a laptop as her telescope. 

“I don’t know your cousin, but if she’s as strait laced and sensual as you are, maybe I should meet her.”

Pierce’s grin was teasing, and Teddi rolled light eyes heavenward.  “Her husband may take exception to that.”

“Damn,” he sighed in defeat while rising and extending his free hand her way.  “Then I guess I’ll have to keep hoping you’ll trust yourself enough to slay men in and out of the bedroom.”

Placing her drink on the table, Teddi accepted his hand and looked up into the devastatingly handsome face that left her just a little flat on the inside tonight.  He considered flirtation a part of his job, so she didn’t take it to heart.  Not really. 

However…  She wondered if maybe he made a good point.  Was it time to stop using her flying fucks for things she didn’t care about?  A fifty-year-old woman who lived alone was above both the age of consent and reproach.  Her grandmother and husband would’ve judged her harshly, but they were both gone, and her cousins would love to think she committed reproachable acts. 

But did she dare?  Was she brave enough to reinvent herself at this late date? 

Teddi hadn’t had enough sangria to make that decision tonight.