Just A Small Town Girl (6 page)

“I get it Fisher,” I crossed the kitchen to open the refrigerator hoping to find a distraction and a bottle of mustard.

“I don’t think you do,” he gently cupped my elbow, steering my body toward his, so he could look me in the eye, “Piper, I like you,” I couldn’t help the flutter in my stomach at his words, “but, I need to be the best dad I can be right now and that means not getting into a relationship until I’m sure it’s going to be serious.”

“Right, and I’m not that girl. Like I said, I get it,” I jerked my elbow from his hand and busied myself with the sandwiches again.

“That’s not it. I just-I’ve made some mistakes especially where Riley is concerned and I don’t even trust myself anymore,” he sighed, leaning against the counter again on his exhale, “If it was just me I would try to be with you. Hell, I would’ve tried to be with you the first time I ran into you outside the building. It’s just so different now. I have to do what’s best for Riley and right now dating the best babysitter I could ever find for him and risking the off chance he’ll end up with someone who won’t love him as much if things go bad between us just isn’t it.”

He was right. I hadn’t understood before, but his explanation made sense. I couldn’t dispute the responsible father argument.

“Okay,” I nodded.

“Okay?” a nervous smile played across his lips.

“Yep. Friends?” I dramatically extended my hand.
“Friends,” his hand wrapped around mine and I tried to ignore the electricity sparking between our palms. It wasn’t any easier than ignoring the Ping-Pong balls in my stomach caused by the devastating smile broadcast across his face.

“Do me a favor?” Fisher’s voice sounded good even through my poor cell connection.
“I’m so not dumb enough to answer that without knowing what it is,” I laughed into the phone and swore I could hear Fisher’s answering smile through the phone.

“Okay Ms. Skeptical would you do Riley a favor?”

“Oh, yeah I’d do anything for him he’s kind of my main squeeze,” I stopped where I’d been walking home from work and leaned against a tree.

“Okay then, will you help him out by making his daddy happy?”

“I’m listening,” I laughed out because I couldn’t help laughing when I talked to Fisher.

“Would you bring him to meet me at Kyle’s for rehearsal? I left my car and rode with Dustin, but he can’t bring me back to get the little monster and I really want to hang with him before we get started.”

“Where is Kyle’s house?” I kicked at the grass for a few seconds before starting back on my walk home.

“It’s about twenty minutes away from our place,” my stomach did a little flip when he called it our place, “Just a little ways past Conductor’s.”

“I don’t know if I can, I don’t have a car, so I’m not sure how I’d get out there,” I hated saying no.

“You can borrow mine,” he said it like the idea of me not driving his car was silly.

“Uh Fisher,” I swallowed hard, coming to a stop in front of our building.

“Yeah?”

“I can’t drive,” my cheeks colored a little at the admission.

“Why not?”

“Well I can, I’ve driven tractors before, but I don’t have a driver’s license,” I’d just never needed one because Sam was willing to take me wherever I wanted to go.

“No way,” the genuine shock and slight horror was apparent in his voice. When I didn’t respond he went on, “well we’ll have to fix that.”

And that is how I found myself behind the wheel of Fisher’s SUV the following Saturday afternoon.

“Okay now your mirrors are set and your seatbelt is buckled. Put your foot on the brake and put it in gear,” Fisher placed his hand on top of mine and we shifted the car into drive together.

We were only driving around the high school parking lot, but I was scared. I’d always been told there was no reason for me to get my license before I had children and even then it wasn’t a necessity because I could stay home with my babies until they started school.

“Okay, now ease off the brake and ease on to the gas,” I stepped off the brake and eased my foot onto the gas, Fisher’s car zipped across the lot and I slammed my foot back on the brake making Fisher’s body sway forward with the momentum.

“Oops,” I said a silent thank you we hadn’t brought Riley along for this little lesson.

Fisher smiled brightly at me and in that moment I was so grateful for him and his general kindness.

“It’s okay, that wasn’t so bad,” he let that sink in for a moment, “this time ease on to the gas a little softer, just with your toe.”

I followed his instructions and the car started off down the parking lot, at the end of the row I turned right and we rolled down the other side of the lot.

“Great job, now ease onto the brake.”

I pressed the toe of my flat to the brake pedal and we slowed to a smooth stop.

We practiced parallel parking and backing for half an hour before he suggested I drive home. After the fifth time he insisted I gave in and drove, very slowly, back to our building. When I pulled to a stop in front of our home and nearly expertly parallel parked Fisher turned to me.

“Very good!” Fisher cheered, helping me put the car in park and leaning across the center console to wrap his arms around me, “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered moments before he pressed his lips to mine.

I stilled, unsure what to expect, but his tongue darted out to massage my lower lip and I gasped, becoming enthralled in the kiss and giving as good as I got. I ran my tongue along his, tasting cinnamon goodness that I could only imagine belonged to Fisher. My hands crept up his chest and I gently stroked the hair at the nape of his neck. The intimate touch seemed to pull Fisher back to reality and he yanked away from me.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, infuriating me, before he stepped out of the car and made his way around to open my door for me.

“Piper,” he started in response to the glare I leveled him with.

“Save it Fisher, I’m tired,” I took a few steps toward our building before calling over my shoulder, “thanks for the lesson,” and continuing inside.

Fisher apologized again, this time more formally by bringing me a chicken dinner and taking me for three more driving lessons where he didn’t kiss me or apologize and I decided to forgive him. He even took me to the DMV for the driving test and gave me a very platonic hug of celebration when I passed. He and Bailey treated me to dinner with Riley and I drove us all home.

After Fisher put the baby to bed Bailey and I sat on Fisher’s living room floor while he played his guitar from the couch.

“You should sing along,” Fisher teased, “You weren’t bad at the karaoke bar.”

“Don’t remind me,” my cheeks colored and I hid them behind my hands, “that was under extreme duress.”

“But you were brave enough to go through with it and you were awesome,” he seamlessly turned the tune he was absently playing into the opening bars of
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, “I think that’s when I knew…we’d be friends,” he stumbled in the middle, “You were that terrified little blonde who sang with me like nobody else mattered.”

I shrugged not telling him how his description made my heart beat faster. Instead I turned to Bailey, “You should sing,” I nudged her shoulder with my own.

“Oh hell no,” she laughed out, “I sound like a dying alley cat when I sing and I love you both too much to subject you to that.”

I laughed and Fisher smiled. He started to sing the beginning of the song and sure enough, when he raised his eyebrow at the female part I sang along. I wasn’t a very strong singer, but I wasn’t below average and that seemed to be fine with Fisher.

When the song ended Fisher launched into an acoustic version of a pop song and Bailey yawned.

“Well, I hate to cut the night short, but I have to get going,” she stood and helped to pull me to my feet.

After I finished walking her to the door I sank into the couch next to Fisher, watching the way his fingers skillfully moved across the strings while he watched me watch him.

“Can I try?” I surprised myself with the question.

“Sure,” Fisher smiled, handing me the guitar and angling my body so my back was against his chest and he could reach around to adjust my fingers.

“This is an A, this is an E, and this is a D,” he quickly moved my fingers from each position.

I tilted my head back onto his shoulder, so he could see the confusion in my eyes.

“Sorry,” he laughed out, explaining again, but this time going slower.

When I still wasn’t getting it after a few more tries we settled for my fingers strumming while his held the strings down.

“Very good,” I could feel his smile against my hair seconds before he started to sing.

We sang together and I couldn’t help the pride washing through me at the beautiful music we were making together. I relaxed into his chest and I swear I felt his body move closer to mine, caging me against the guitar. I wondered if everything we did together could be full of the magic in that moment. I wondered if we would ever give a serious relationship enough of a shot to find out.

“Hey lady,” Bailey’s drawl pulled me from my memories from the night before. Fisher came over around ten, too excited about a song he was writing to sleep. I fell asleep in my living room, listening to the sounds of his sweet tenor mingling with his guitar and woke in my bed, the tune from the night before still playing in my head.

“Hey,” I finished typing the letter Dr. Schultz requested that morning before smiling up at her.

“Want to get lunch?” she leaned close to whisper, “That kid looks like he’s going to puke any minute and I think we should probably clear out before that happens.”

“Sounds good to me,” I quickly organized my desk before following Bailey through the front door.

“How are your classes?” I asked. Bailey worked full time in the library, shelving books and reading to children, but her free time was spent taking online courses to become a full-fledged librarian.

“Psychology research is killing me, but otherwise good,” he face lit up and she smiled, “And how is being ‘just friends’ with Fisher?”

I couldn’t help the crimson blush sweeping across my face. I’d told Bailey about my conversation with Fisher a few weeks before. I hadn’t told her how hard it was to keep our relationship platonic, but she seemed to understand, even without my saying so.

“Good,” it was true, but the expectant look on her face prompted me to say more, “We’ve been spending more time together,” I shrugged, “when gets off work we usually hang out for a few hours and eat dinner before his show if he has one. If he doesn’t we stay in and watch a movie while playing with Riley or he brings his guitar over and writes while Riley and I listen.”

“Basically you two spend every day together?” Bailey asked, holding the door to a sub shop open for me.

“Well not really, just the evenings and if he has a show it’s never more than a few hours,” I shrugged again, turning to the menu to give it my full attention.

“And when you’re together, even for these few hours you’re playing house?” her eyebrows raised speculatively.

“No, well, that’s not fair Bailey,” I didn’t know how to explain it.

“Just calling it like I see it honey,” she gave me a look before stepping up to the counter to place her order.

I couldn’t get her question out of my mind for the rest of the afternoon. When we were together I barely noticed the conflict between his desire to keep our relationship purely friendly and the way he seemed to pull nearer to me every time we met. When I was away from him I floated on the memory of the fun we’d had or daydreamed about the sound of his voice or the way his lips curved into a smile. Very rarely did I take the time to challenge the fun we had or ask myself why he was willing to act as if he was my boyfriend , but so unwilling to become my boyfriend in name. The question Bailey brought to the  forefront of my mind assailed me for the rest of our lunch, then the rest of my day at work, then the walk back to my apartment. When Fisher let himself into my apartment I was still asking myself if we were playing house. If we were then why was I good enough to play with, but not good enough to be his girlfriend? If refusing a relationship with me was in his son’s best interest then why was it okay for me to be in Riley’s life every day? Why did it even bother me so much?

“How’s your day?” Fisher reached around me to grab a slice of carrot as he spoke. I tried to ignore the way his chest pressed into my back, engulfing me in his masculine scent.

“Fine,” I slipped under his arm and stirred the pan on my stove.

“Hey,” he slipped his hand around my waist, turning me to face him, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I murmured, stepping out of his reach. I didn’t know how to explain my feelings after telling him I understood his reasons.

“You know you can talk to me right?” he stepped closer to me, placing his hands on my shoulders. When I looked into his eyes he continued, “you can trust me with whatever it is you know.”

Just like that, my questions weren’t significant anymore. All that mattered was how happy we made each other in the time we were together. I didn’t need to be his girlfriend when we were together and I didn’t need to ruin our friendship by placing unfair pressures on it. I stepped further into his body and wrapped my arms around his waist, enjoying the feel of his hands sliding further around my body to return my hug.

“Really, everything’s fine,” I said into the fabric of his shirt.

“I don’t believe you, but I’ll let it go if you don’t want to talk about it,” he tightened his arms around my back and used them to lift me onto the counter, “Now,” he used a goofy accent, “We must continue to cook the sauce!” I watched as he finished chopping carrots and stirred them into the pan on the stove.

“You’re pretty good at that you know,” I smiled at him, “Where’d you learn to cook?”

“I spent a lot of time in the kitchen as a kid my dear,” he used that goofy accent again and tilted his head back to let out a cackling laugh at the end.

“Yeah?” I opened my mouth and waited until he tilted the spoon in to give me a taste of the sauce, “so your mom taught you?”

“I didn’t say that,” he turned down the heat and threw pasta into a pot of boiling water, “I just said I spent time in the kitchen,” he pulled salad from the refrigerator and portioned it out on two plates.

I jumped from the counter and began draining the noodles. We silently worked at preparing two plates and were just sitting down to eat when Riley began to wail in the living room.

“I got it,” Fisher said, disappearing into the living room while I removed the tray from Riley’s high chair and prepared a bowl of applesauce for him. The way we automatically slipped into our caretaking roles wasn’t lost on me. It felt like we were a family and I couldn’t help wondering if that was how things would have been if I’d stayed with Sam. We might’ve been preparing for our first child, painting the nursery and registering for gifts. My mind drifted to what that would be like for a few seconds, then I remembered how much harder it would’ve been to leave my cheating husband if he was also the father of my child.