7. The Routine
1161 Words
Tuesday, May 17, 11:45 a.m.
- Aurora Cameron -
"Kahn Construction. This is Aurora," I answer the ringing phone on my desk, tapping my fingers against the wood finish. I've been in the same position for the last hour and a half, answering phones and making appointments.
After I arrived at my new establishment of work, I met up with Tabitha who showed me where my desk was and explained the daily work schedule. While Tabitha, or Tabby, takes care of permits and inspections, I will be taking notes, arranging appointments, and riding along with her to the construction sites. It's an easy job, so far, and I'm proud of my decision to accept the job.
I take down the name of the person on the phone and hang up, bidding them a nice day. I lift my head when I hear the sound of Tabby's infectious laughter. Tabby is about my height with hazel eyes and chestnut hair that compliments her features. Her face is void of makeup, leaving her completely natural. She doesn't seem like the type of girl who wears makeup anyway.
She's told me of how she grew up with four protective brothers who made sure her relationship status remained single during her junior high and high school years. As a child, I wondered what it would be like to have a sibling. With the wrath of my mother over my head, I know a brother or sister of mine wouldn't have changed the way my mother inflicted emotional abuse on me up until I left Tampa.
"How you doin', girly?" Tabitha questions, walking to her desk with a coffee in hand.
I shake my head with a grin. "I think I'm getting the hang of it, now. What about you?"
She shrugs. "Can't complain," she replies. "Do you think you can get lunch? I'm starvin' like Marvin."
I nod. "Sure. What would you like?"
She writes down an address to a sandwich shop nearby. After about a ten minute drive, I find the shop and park on a side street. I walk in to find the place bombarded with customers, from businessmen to children. I step into the forming line ahead of me, waiting for my turn to be served. The sound of a throat clearing behind me catches my attention and I turn my head. A smirking Tucker stands there, a coffee in one hand and his keys and phone in another.
Oh, geez. Why does he have to be so gorgeous?
He's wearing a Black Sabbath shirt today, along with worn, faded jeans that are slightly ripped at the thigh. The shirt displays more of the tattoos on his arms, like the tribal on his left arm. Motorcycle boots cover his feet and his hair is a rugged mess.
He waves a hand in front of my face, gaining my attention and making a blush creep onto my cheeks. "You're cute when you blush, sweetheart," he chuckles.
I huff and turn back around, choosing to ignore him. It's effective for about a minute until he steps into my view, a frown on his face this time. "You're not talking to me?"
"I didn't expect to see you again," is my evasive answer.
He smiles again. "You would have. Dominic and I are close."
My turn to order approaches and I turn away from him once again. I feel him at my back as I wait for my food, putting me on alert. His tall presence is intimidating and I shiver. The scent of manly body wash and detergent wafts my nose and I swear my womb contracts.
What the hell is wrong with me? I've never been this hot for a man I barely know. Even with Owen, s*x in the beginning was great, but eventually became all about him when he started to pull away from me.
I continue waiting for another couple of minutes, casually glancing at my phone every now and then. "Have dinner with me."
I lift my head to meet Tucker's eyes again. "What?" I ask.
"Dinner. My place," he somewhat repeats.
Come again?
"Uhm...I don't think so."
"Why?" He pushes. "You got a man?"
I shake my head, handing my money to the cashier, and taking the food. "I just got out of a relationship before I moved here. I'm not really...ready to jump into another." I watch his face fall and instantly feel guilt in my heart.
"Aurora, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"
I cut him off. "It's really okay. You didn't know," I tell him, offering a smile. "I'll see you around."
I, then, proceed to get the heck out of there. Though, I can feel a certain someone's eyes on me as I walk out onto the sidewalk.
* * *
"Hey. What took so long?" Tabitha asks when I arrive back at work.
I place the plastic bag of food containers on a nearby table. "I got held up. Plus, it's lunchtime and they were busy," I tell her.
She winces. "I'm sorry. I should've waited," she says, digging in her purse. "How much do I owe you?"
I wave a hand in dismissal. "Don't worry about it. How about you pay next time," I suggest.
"You got it, honey."
Around four-thirty, I pack up my things and head home. Dad is out on the porch when I pull up, a coffee mug in hand, and his butt in a rocking chair.
"Hey, sweet girl. How was work?" He asks, rising from the chair.
"Great," I respond, walking into the house. Dad follows behind me to the kitchen. I set my purse down and occupy a spot at the table. "I ran into Tucker today in town."
His eyebrows furrow. "He say anything to you?"
I nod. "He asked me to dinner," I confess.
He crosses his arms over his chest, his body leaning against the counter. "And?"
"I told him I wasn't ready. I'm so confused as to what I should do." I sigh. "He seems like a good man, but after what happened with Owen, I don't know if I want to date again just yet," I explain further, knowing I can talk to him.
I may not have known him my entire life, but I believe I can talk to my dad without him judging me or getting angry. I've told him everything about Owen and I's relationship, but I haven't told him of the things my mother did to me as I was growing.
He takes the seat across from me and grasps my hand in his. "Honey, I'm gonna give you some advice, okay?"
I nod in acknowledgment and he continues. "Be careful around a man like Tucker. Men like him can be intense and protective. I was that way with your mother and she left me. If you choose him, stay with him. And remember; your old dad is always here for you in many ways. I have been since you were born and I held you in the hospital. Never forget that" he says, a comforting smile on his face.
"Thank you, Dad," I choke, emotional. He kisses my forehead before rising and making his way to the coffeemaker.
"You're welcome, darlin'."
- Writer
