Erik hunkered down in his Subaru outside Sadie’s house in the older section of northern Denver. The arrival of October saw the small grouping of aspen trees in her front yard turning golden. Once past the white-picket fence Sadie scraped down and painted each spring, a brick pathway led to the front door, painted a rich forest green and adorned with a gold scripted M. Laughter floated over from the park across the street as children conquered the monkey bars and followed one another up and down the circular slide.
This was a date.
Not a sort-of date. Not a fill-in-at-the-last-minute-because-the-person-I-asked-couldn’t-make-it date.
A D-A-T-E.
All he had to do was knock on the door and greet Sadie when she answered. Act natural. He’d been to her house hundreds of times.
But never for a date—not since the summer after high school when his particular-to-a-fault best friend had made it clear that she had no interest in a romance with him.
Erik stared at the front door, feeling as if he were standing two body-lengths off second base, trying to make the decision between stealing third or running back to second.
Sadie may not remember those few weeks during the summer before he left for college. When they’d held hands. And shared one too-brief kiss. But he did. Sadie’s nonreaction to his kiss made it obvious she preferred friendship with him rather than his inept attempts at romance.
He was thirty now. An adult. This date had more riding on it than the immature longings of an eighteen-year-old. He knew what he was doing. Why he was here. What he wanted.
Who he wanted.
Make your move, Davis.
The day hinted at the beginnings of another idyllic display of Indian summer. Leaves crunched under his feet and the sun warmed his shoulders. Maybe he should have planned something outdoors.
The chimes of the doorbell sounded through the house, and only a few seconds later, Sadie swung open the door. No bright-colored bandana hid her deep-brown hair. Her makeup—the barest hint of blush, a touch of eye shadow and eyeliner—impeccable. The jeans and pale-green blouse accented her figure, proving that she didn’t use her profession as an excuse to overindulge.
“Ready to go?” She eased the door shut behind her as she joined him on the small porch.
“Hello to you too.” Erik stayed put, close enough to catch a hint of her perfume that smelled of vanilla. Did she just grab the expensive Mexican vanilla she liked to cook with and dab it behind her ears? “Is this how you greet all your dates? Don’t you want to invite me inside, show me your home?”
“You were here ten days ago. You know what my house looks like. You helped me move, remember?”
“Go back inside.”
“What? That’s ridiculous.”
“Back inside.” He turned her to face the door. “Let’s try this again and act like we haven’t known each other since we were thirteen.”
“Is this a pretend date—or a real one?”
“It’s real, Miss McAllister, I assure you. You’re acting like we’re going to hang out together.”
“We are—”
“Please.” Erik held up his hand and closed his eyes. “I invited you out on a date. You accepted. We do this my way.”
“Do you enforce absurd rules like this with all your dates?”
Erik refused to answer, hoping the heat blazing in her eyes wouldn’t singe the other side of the door.
Then he sang the chorus of “Born in the U.S.A.” to cool down. Sang it again because he figured Sadie needed a chance to cool down too.
Squaring his shoulders, Erik knocked on the door again. And waited. Rang the doorbell. And waited.
Finally, Sadie opened the door—wearing her blue Japanese kimono robe, belted tight around her waist.
“Oh, Erik—you’re early. Come on in. I’m sorry I’m not quite ready.” She ran up the stairs leading to her loft, pausing halfway and leaning over the railing. “If you’re thirsty, there are some sodas or tea in the fridge. Or water. Back in a few.”
He should follow her and march her back downstairs and out to his car. But was she wearing anything underneath that silky robe? No reason to call her bluff and end up embarrassing them both.
Nope. This was when he would disorder something in Sadie J.’s space.
What section of the open concept living room that flowed right into the dining room would he disrupt today?
Sadie’s sacred kitchen.
To the casual observer, the kitchen looked as spotless as a staged home’s, ready for an onslaught of potential buyers. The stainless steel counters were bare of appliances. The clear glass cabinets displayed artistically arranged white dishes.
Sadie kept her treasured collection of cookbooks—dozens of them—in a side cabinet that was more of a nook beside the refrigerator. One by one, he turned them upside down. Did he dare rearrange them too? At the sound of Sadie’s footsteps on the stairs, Erik grabbed two cans of soda from the fridge, and met her at the foot of the stairs.
“What are you doing?”
He offered her a can. “Soda?”
“No, thank you.” Sadie tilted her head. “You know I don’t drink diet. What are you up to?”
“Nothing. Wasn’t thinking. Do you want something else?”
“No. I’m fine.”
She’d changed into a denim skirt, tall black boots, and a purple sweater. “If you’re ready, let’s go.”
“You don’t want a tour of my house?”
“No, I’m good. After you, Sadie.”
“Are you going to watch the otters all day long?” Erik’s close whisper caused a shiver up Sadie’s neck.
Sadie leaned toward the plexiglass tank, following the motions of the long, lithe animals frolicking in the water. Watch the otters. Ignore how Erik’s low tone created a warmth in her body that made her want to lean toward him, not away. “I love otters. Usually when I try to see them at the zoo, they’re sleeping. Or the exhibit is closed for renovation.”
“You come here often?”
Was that a hint of disappointment in Erik’s voice?
“No—I can’t think of the last time I came to the aquarium—or the zoo. Probably during some elementary-school field trip.” Sadie crouched down to watch the underwater otter ballet, the heat from Erik’s closeness evaporating. She’d probably been on some class trip her mother had assured her would be fun. And then Sadie had hung back from her classmates, staying near the teacher—where it was safe. “Do you know otters hold hands when they sleep?”
“They do?”
“Yes—so they don’t float away from one another. Isn’t that adorable?”
Several younger children pressed forward to watch the animals, pushing and shoving one another to get the best spot, causing Sadie to ease to the right side of the tank. She never took her eyes off the trio of otters sliding through the water, swimming around the blue bucket filled with a chunk of fish-laden ice.
Five minutes later, she turned to share a laugh with Erik. Where was he? She slipped through the crowd, rounding the corner of the exhibit to find him talking with a college-aged girl overseeing the display of faux barrels overflowing with stuffed otters.
“The real ones are much more fun to watch,” Sadie said, walking up behind him.
“Yes, but you can’t take one home with you.” Erik held up a medium-sized brown-and-white, stuffed otter, using it to plant a kiss on the tip of her nose.
Sadie stepped back. “That tickles.”
“Then let’s hope he behaves when you take him home.”
“This is for me?”
“Of course. You can’t come to the aquarium and not get a souvenir.” Erik pocketed his receipt and thanked the cashier. “Don’t forget to name him.”
“Erik.”
“What?”
“That’s his name—Erik.”
“You have to be more creative than that. Something like Nanuk or Oscar or Swimmy.”
“Swimmy?”
“It’s better than Erik.”
“You said I get to name him—and I did.” She tucked the plush memento into the top of her black cross-body purse. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. But that furry thing looks nothing like me.”
“You’re right—whiskers but no beard.”
“You’ve never liked my beard, have you?”
Sadie scanned Erik’s face: his deep-set blue eyes, hawkish nose, and firm jaw. “I admit I wasn’t too happy a few years ago when you announced you were growing it.”
“Why not?”
“I wasn’t crazy about the whole lumberjack look.” Sadie reached up and touched the dark blond hair covering his jaw. “But your beard is nice. You keep it trimmed—not all wild and crazy like Karl Marx or . . . or one of those Duck Dynasty guys.”
Erik’s boom of laughter caused the people around them to stop and stare. “That’s quite a jump in history—Karl Marx to Duck Dynasty.”
“You know what I mean.” She dropped her hand, tucking it into the pocket of her skirt. “It’ll be a long time before I give you a compliment again.”
And it would be even longer before she touched Erik Davis’s face again. His beard was soft. And his full lips had curved into a much-too-alluring smile. Where had the thought of letting her fingers trail up to the hair along his temple, which he also kept trimmed close, come from? Followed quickly by a desire to kiss him.
“You want to go see the mermaids?”
What? Sadie shook her head, clearing her thoughts. The mermaid show. “No, I don’t think so.”
Erik linked his arm through hers. “You never dreamed about being a beautiful underwater sea creature?”
She’d dreamed about being beautiful for years—all the while enduring the teasing of classmates. A taunt whispered across her mind. Pirate. But if you were the only kid in class wearing an eye patch, what else would your classmates call you? Disappearing into the ocean had never been part of the dream. Becoming invisible, yes.
“Sadie?”
Sadie pulled her hand away from her left eye. “What?”
“Do you have a headache?”
“No. No. I’m fine. Lead on to the next exhibit.”
It’d been worth crawling underneath the exhibit to the viewing half domes to make Sadie laugh again. Of course, the space was built to accommodate children, not grown men. Through the haze of blue water, distorted multicolored fish darted by against the backdrop of the faint outlines of the people standing around the tank. Where was Sadie? How long did he need to stay under here to get her talking to him again? And why had she suddenly gone silent?
As he backed out into the open space again and rose to his feet, he bumped into someone. “Sorry about that.”
“No problem—Erik?”
Dusting his hands off, Erik turned and faced Charlie Ferguson from church.
“Hey, Charlie. You here with the family?”
“Yep. Angie’s talking with Sadie.”
“Perfect day for the aquarium, isn’t it?” The two joined Sadie and Angie and the Fergusons’ three children. “Did you all watch the mermaid show?”
“We sure did.” Angie looked from Erik to Sadie and back again. “So, what brings you two to the aquarium?”
Erik draped his arm around Sadie’s shoulder, unable to ignore the way she stilled. “We’re on a date.”
Now Sadie went ramrod stiff. “We’re not dating . . .”
“Yes, yes we are. Dating, I mean.” Erik kept the smile on his face despite Sadie’s swift kick to his ankle. Ouch. “I asked Sadie out and she accepted. So this is a date.”
“Wow, that was fast.” Angie’s eyes widened. “Last I heard, you were dating Lydia.”
“Um, yeah. I was. But now I’m not.” Great. He sounded like a jerk. “I’m out with Sadie. Today.”
“That’s wonderful.” Angie waved as Charlie tugged her toward the next display of fish. “Well, we’ll see you at church.”
When the family turned away, Sadie aimed another kick at his ankle.
“Come on, Sadie! Are you trying to cripple me?”
“What are you doing, telling them that we’re dating?”
“This is a date.”
“This is a between-you-and-me date. You don’t have to announce it to the whole church.”
“I didn’t announce it—”
Sadie stomped away, forcing Erik to double-time it to keep up with her. “Angie’s going to put us on the prayer chain!”
“What? The prayer chain is for prayer requests.”
Sadie bowed her head, hands clasped together, her voice a muted whisper. “We need to pray for Sadie and Erik. Yes, they’re dating! I saw them at the Denver Aquarium! It was so cute! We need for God’s will to be done in their relationship. We need to pray that they stay pure and not give in to temptation . . .”
“Now you’re being absurd.”
“You have obviously never volunteered for the prayer chain.”
“Yeah, and if that’s what really happens, I don’t plan to either.” Erik risked taking her hand and pulling her toward the exit, keeping space between them in case she decided to kick him again. “Are you hungry? I thought we could have lunch at the Cheesecake Factory.”
“Bribing me with cheesecake isn’t going to make me forgive you.”
“It’s worked in the past, Sadie JuJube. Cheesecake is my go-to plan when I need you to like me again.”
“Humph.” Sadie allowed him to lead her toward the exit. “It’s a good thing I like cheesecake. And you’re wrong again.”
“I’ll figure out your middle name one day.”
“So you think, my friend. Seventeen years and counting.”
“I’m no quitter. You should know that about me by now.”