* * * * *

It was after school and Ethan and I were at Wayfarer’s.

I had picked him up from school, or, more accurately, he’d seen me in my Cayenne and nearly given me a heart attack by dashing across the road with extreme excitement (and not checking the street before he did so), throwing open the passenger door and shouting, “I can’t wait to get a ride in this totally awesome ride!”

He did not delay in achieving his purpose, climbed up and buckled in. I set us on the road while I allowed him time to get his “ride in this totally awesome ride” before I used measured words to explain he should always scan the street before crossing it.

“Whoops,” was his reply.

I decided to take that as him having heard me then I shared our afternoon endeavors were that we were going to make cream puffs from scratch.

To that, a yelled, “Awesome!” was his reply.

And to that, I’d smiled at the windshield.

Ethan chattered to me while we moved through the aisles at Wayfarer’s, picking up what we needed. But when we approached the checkout counter, Conner came in the front doors.

“Con!” Ethan cried and Conner’s head turned our way.

He spied us and moved in our direction while smiling.

“What’s up?” he asked when he arrived.

“Cream puffs, dude,” was Ethan’s answer.

“Awesome, little dude,” was Conner’s response, still smiling at his younger brother.

“Hello, Conner,” I greeted.

“Yo, Josie,” he replied, turning his smile to me. “You doin’ good?”

“I am, indeed,” I answered. “And you?”

“Nothin’ gets me down,” he stated breezily and I couldn’t help but smile at his words and tone. “Love to rap but gotta clock in,” he told us.

“Later, bro,” Ethan said.

“Good-bye, Conner,” I said.

He jerked up his chin, so very much like his father, gave us a low wave (also like his father) and moved away.

“Amber’s a pain in the butt but Con is the bomb,” Ethan told me and I looked down at him.

“Amber is a teenaged girl who’s trying to understand her place in this world and is erroneously assuming that that place is dependent on how many boys find her attractive and how popular she is at school. Your brother has a good deal of confidence due to his good looks and, likely, his prowess in the boxing ring. When Amber finds what she excels at, she’ll cease being a pain in the behind.”

“I hope she finds what she excels at soon,” Ethan muttered.

“I do too,” I murmured back.

“What’s erroneous?” he asked and I grinned down at him.

“Mistaken,” I explained.

“Right.” He grinned up at me then went on, “So what’s prowess?”

“Ability. Skill,” I told him.

“Right,” he repeated, still grinning.

At this point, the cashier told me my total.

I paid for the groceries and Ethan insisted on getting two of the three handled brown paper bags (also, it would appear, like his father). I took the remaining one and we left the store.

Cross Street had been (and still was) rather busy when we arrived at Wayfarer’s and thus we’d needed to park well down from the store. We set off on our journey, carrying our bags, Ethan again chattering.

“They got cream puffs at the bakery but I bet yours will be better,” he noted.

“As Americans often put sweetened whipped cream or vanilla pudding between the choux pastry, and we’ll be making crème patisserie, this is indeed a fact.”

“What’s crème patisserie?” Ethan asked.

“Proof there is a God,” I answered.

He burst out laughing and I liked the sound so much, not to mention liking that it was me who gave it to him, I smiled down at him just as I heard, “Yo! Josephine!”

I stopped and saw that we were standing in front of one of the two large opened bays of the Firehouse. I peered into the shadows beyond the shiny red fire truck and out came Mickey from the gym.

And I saw that this time, Mickey from the gym was not in workout clothes, which suited him greatly, but instead in dark blue trousers and a lighter blue t-shirt with an insignia over his heart. As these were the apparel of a firefighter not actually fighting a fire, but still being a firefighter, they suited him even better.

“Mickey!” Ethan exclaimed, clearly knowing the man.

“Yo, Eath,” Mickey replied on a grin at Ethan and his grin, like it had been that morning, was also quite nice.

“You know Josie?” Ethan asked and Mickey moved his grin to me.

“We met at the gym this morning,” Mickey explained.

I felt Ethan’s eyes and looked down at him just as he was inquiring, “You were at the gym this morning?”

“Your dad and I worked out together,” I shared and Ethan smiled big.

“Cool,” he said in approval.

“Wanna check out the firehouse, little man?” Mickey surprisingly asked at this juncture and my eyes shot to him.

“Seriously?” Ethan breathed.

Before I could get a word in, Mickey gave him a head jerk toward the firehouse and replied, “Absolutely. I’ll look after your bags. You go in.”

Without delay, Ethan dropped his grocery bags by Mickey’s feet and raced into the firehouse.

He did this so quickly, I lost sight of him immediately.

I looked to Mickey. “Um…Mickey, Ethan’s my charge and I’m uncomfortable with him being out of sight.”

To that, Mickey twisted his torso and bellowed, “Yo! Jimbo! My boy Eath is in there. Keep an eye on him, will you?”

And then I heard shouted back, “Got it!”

Mickey turned back to me and opened his mouth to speak but I spoke before he could say a word.

“I appreciate Jimbo’s assistance but as I don’t know Jimbo, I still would prefer it if I was aware of Ethan’s activities and by that I mean that I could actually see him.”

Mickey’s (not unattractive, to say the least) lips were spread in a wide smile by the time I was finished speaking and when I was done, he assured me, “Ethan’ll be good.”

“But—”

“Listen,” he interrupted me. “You got plans tomorrow night?”

I closed my mouth.

Oh my.

Was yet another man in Magdalene going to ask me out?

I’d been there but a week and a half, having attended Gran’s funeral on a Monday, and if Mickey was indeed asking me out, that made him the second man to do so in that short period of time.

It was not lost on me that I was attractive. I was no beauty, I’d spent my life around raving beauties so I knew beauty and I did not have that. But that didn’t mean I was unattractive. I also received my fair share of attention and partook of that attention when the spirit moved me.

But this was ridiculous.

And what made it worse was the fact that the one man I wanted to give me more than a fair share of attention was, indeed, giving me more than my fair share, just not the way I would wish.

“I—” I started.

He interrupted again before I could reply. “’Cause I’d like to take you to Breeze Point for dinner.”

Yes, he was asking me out.

And doing it to take me to Breeze Point, which said a good deal about how he wished this date to go.

And this felt nice.

Even so.

“I’m sorry, Mickey,” I said quietly. “Jake and I have plans tomorrow night.”

Mickey’s face went strange and for some reason he looked over his shoulder into the firehouse before he turned back to me and inquired, “You and Jake an item?”

Even though I knew what an item meant, the question threw me mostly because the idea of me and Jake being one was both infinitely desired and completely impossible, thus I asked stupidly, “An item?”

“You seein’ him, darlin’,” he explained.

Oh, how I wished.

“No, we’re just friends,” I shared, successfully keeping the note of disappointment out of my voice.

His face cleared and he gave me another smile. “Then are your plans with him solid on Friday?”

Any plan that included Jake was solid.

“Yes,” I answered.

“Right. Then I’m boxin’ on Saturday. How ‘bout we do dinner Sunday night?”

I opened my mouth to decline then I closed it.

Quickly studying him so I didn’t delay in giving him an answer, I noted yet again he was very attractive. He was taller than me and I was, as usual, in heels. He had a very nice body. And he was not in the least like Boston Stone. Mickey’s smiles were frequent and genuine. His manner easygoing. He had confidence, not arrogance. Further, he had an obvious rapport with Ethan.

And last, he liked me and he did it in a way that felt nice.

“I’d enjoy that, Mickey,” I accepted.

“Excellent,” he said softly and I gave him a small smile. He dug his phone out of his back pocket and, still using his soft voice, requested, “What’s your number, honey?”

Another man who called me honey.

And another time I liked it.

I gave my number to him while he programmed it into his phone.

“I’ll call you later,” he told me, shoving his phone back in his pocket. “When’re you done lookin’ after Ethan?”

“Jake’s collecting him at seven thirty.”

“I’ll call you after that.”

“I’ll look forward to that,” I replied, and I found that I meant it.

He smiled at me again.

I smiled back.

Yes, he was very easy to look at and his smiles were genuine and I liked all that.

Alas, I had cream puffs to make

“I better go,” I said, sounding disappointed because I actually was. “Ethan and I are making cream puffs.”

When I uttered the words “cream puffs,” something else changed on his face and this was not difficult to read.