Chapter Twenty-five

Amber tried not to fumble getting the key into the lock on her front door.

Tonight had been a night she would never forget. She’d seen Stan in his suit before, but tonight had somehow been different. She didn’t know what it was, but it was more than just the mustache. A flock of butterflies did a square dance in her stomach at the thought of Stan’s mustache. He was good-looking before, but with it, he looked absolutely handsome. And dashing. Just like the cliché went, he was simply tall, dark, and handsome. She’d already thought the handsome, but he was doubly handsome right now, so she was allowed to think it twice. She didn’t know why she hadn’t realized exactly how handsome he was before tonight.

Every other day, because he didn’t work at a desk job and was quite toned, he looked buff in his coveralls, but tonight in the suit, he looked movie-star handsome.

She wondered if he knew it, because Amber knew she looked good in her new-to-her dress and her favorite high heels. She’d taken extra care with her hair and makeup, and all the time had been worth it.

Finally the lock cooperated, and she pushed the door open. Still holding the keys and the doorknob, she looked over her shoulder and up at Stan. “Would you like to come in?”

His eyebrows rose, like he was trying to figure out why she asked. She never had before. She didn’t know why she’d asked either. Tonight just felt . . . different.

“Yes, I would,” he said very formally.

Amber gulped. They weren’t playing dress-up tonight, but in a way they really were. This wasn’t the church Christmas party or the fellowship banquet. Being dressed up and feeding each other nibbles and sharing their rich desserts across the table had been a real date, whether she wanted to admit it, or not.

After twenty-six years, she’d been on a date with Stan. Really, nearly twenty-seven, because it was her birthday next month.

Not that she wanted anything else to drink, but she had to do something so she went into the kitchen to make tea.

Just like he always did, Stan followed her. The new Stan. The handsome one in the suit. With the mustache and sexy eyes.

Amber nearly tripped out of her high-heeled shoes. Sexy eyes?

“Amber? Are you okay? Do you want to take those shoes off? You always complain that your ankles aren’t used to walking like that.”

With the fancy dress, she needed these shoes, not her pink bunny slippers. Slippers would destroy the image that she’d worked so hard to create. She wasn’t ready for it to be over.

“They’re okay. I’m fine.”

Stan tilted his head back a little and reached up to tug the knot of his tie.

“No!” Amber cleared her throat, and lowered her voice to a normal speaking level. “I mean, no. Leave it on. It looks . . .” Breathtaking. Spectacular. Incredible. “. . . nice.”

He smiled. Her knees suddenly felt wobbly.

She turned and grabbed the kettle from the stovetop and filled it with water. “That was really fun,” she said over her shoulder. “No. Fun wasn’t the right word. I really enjoyed myself. I guess that’s what I’m trying to say.”

“I did too. We’ll have to do this again.”

“Go out for dinner, yes, but there, no. That place was way too expensive.”

Amber placed the kettle on the counter and plugged it in. Behind her, she heard the tapping of Stan’s leather shoes on the tile floor as he approached her. She felt the light touch of his hand on her shoulder, and he nudged her ever so gently to turn around to face him.

He shuffled forward until they were toe to toe. His fingertips brushed her cheek and then traveled down to her chin. His voice lowered to a husky whisper. “Maybe, but some things are worth it.”

With one more gentle nudge, he tipped her chin up slightly. The hand on her shoulder lowered to the small of her back.

“Close your eyes, Amber, because I’m going to kiss you.”

She didn’t think he would, but if this were someone else, they were in the right stance, the right position to kiss each other. So she closed her eyes.

Stan really did kiss her.

First his lips lightly brushed hers, almost teasing. It was nice. Gentle. Tender.

She felt him smile against her mouth.

Then he tilted his head and kissed her for real.

Amber slipped her arms under his suit jacket and around his waist, holding Stan as firmly as he held her. Something in her brain short-circuited that they were doing this, but that didn’t make her stop, or want his kiss any less. Just like in the books she read, her heart raced and her brain short-circuited.

When they separated, he didn’t step away. He embraced her with one arm around her waist and brushed the loose strands at her temple. After a short sigh, he pulled her close into a tender embrace, and just held her in a timeless, special moment.

The haze in her brain dissipated, and the impact of what had just happened smacked her.

She’d kissed Stan. Not just a little peck, but a real kiss, like she’d seen on television but never experienced. She’d had boyfriends, but she’d never felt like this, been kissed like this, nor had she ever kissed a man back like this. It had been so right, yet so very wrong. This was Stan. Her friend. The man who fixed her leaky toilet.

She started to move away, but his grip tightened.

“Please,” he whispered. “Not yet.” Slowly she felt the slight press of his cheek to the top of her head. “Just a minute longer.”

Pressed against him, she felt his sigh from her cheek to her knees.

“Why didn’t we do this sooner?” he murmured into her hair as he brushed her temple with his thumb.

She couldn’t answer him. She couldn’t think.

What they had done had just changed the parameters of their relationship. All their lives, they’d been friends. What were they now?

She stiffened, afraid, knowing that no matter what happened next, they could never go back.

Every time she looked at him, she would remember this moment.

She wanted the moment to happen again.

No. No, she didn’t. This was Stan. Good Ol’ Stan. Or he used to be Good Ol’ Stan. What was he now?

He must have felt her stiffen, because he slowly eased his hold on her and released her from his embrace, keeping one hand cupping her cheek. As she looked up at him and he looked down at her, for the first time ever she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. She couldn’t read his expression. Confusion? Regret? Indecision?

“I think I should go. If I don’t see you after work tomorrow, I’ll pick you up for church on Sunday.”

Because he was still close, she couldn’t tell what he was going to do, but he bent slightly and pressed a short and sweet kiss to her lips, turned, and walked out.

Amber’s feet remained frozen to the floor. She heard the front door open and close, the jingle of his keys and the snick of the lock as it turned. A short pause, and the engine of his truck roared to life, then faded to nothing.

Amber flopped down on to the kitchen chair, crossed her arms on the table, and plunked her head into her arms.

Stan had kissed her. Not just a peck kiss, but a melt-your-bones, curl-your-toes kiss.

She’d never be able to look at him again and still think they could be friends. Instead of the warm fuzzies she felt when they were close to each other, she’d battle with other feelings. Deeper feelings she didn’t know if she could handle.

Deep in her heart, she knew she would never look at him again, and not wish for more of the same.

She had to think, but no answers came.

Behind her, the kettle whistled.

Amber kept her face buried in her arms. She didn’t care if it boiled dry. It would shut off automatically.

Eventually.