Iced Romance (13 page)

That was five years ago now.

And today I’m having another first date.

I should do some yoga. I sit down on the floor and pull my knees in to my chest. I took a yoga class with Emily Poole back in Colorado. She said that all the celebrities were doing yoga and so we, obviously, had to do it too. Twice a week, at a studio a few blocks from my condo. I try to recall any of the positions we did.

I remember Warrior. But that one always hurt, and besides, I don’t have a strong enough core to get my leg out straight behind me. The yoga instructor was always correcting me, telling me in a slightly condescending tone that I needed to find my inner eye or something like that. I never found it.

What else was there? Oh, how about the snake one. Serpent? Python? I don’t remember what it was called. But my back usually ached after it.

On second thought, maybe I’ll just practice the breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

There, that works. I cross my legs and place my hands on my knees, channeling the meditating monks I saw on Discovery Channel a while back.

In. I’m going on a date! Oh my gosh.

Out. What am I going to wear?

In. I am so excited to see David again. He really is good looking.

Out. But what if he asks awkward questions about my past? He’s so grounded, so normal. What if he thinks I’m an idiot to have skipped out on my degree and just spent my life following a guy from state to state?

In. Gatorland is going to be awesome!

Out. Should I wear heels? My feet are so callused and tough now from standing all day long, I bet I could handle heels.

I keep an eye on my alarm clock and as soon as I hit the five minute mark I stand up. No point in doing meditation overkill. Time to get ready.

Two hours later I am standing in the middle of my bedroom. Clothes litter the carpet and my unmade bed and dresser drawers are pulled out haphazardly, but I am ready.

I’m wearing the new leggings I bought at Target when I went with Leila after work yesterday. They are bright orange and I feel optimistic as I look at myself. Bright. Vibrant. The new Kennedy. I’ve combined them with a long, black t-shirt that says “Party All Night” in sparkles across the back, and I’ve completed my ensemble with a pink Gucci designer belt, fastened Kim Kardashian style around my waist.

I don’t look at all like Colorado Kennedy. But I like what I see.

I look fun.

I peek out the window. David should be here soon.

A knock on the door startles me, even though I’ve been waiting. I swing the door open wide and greet him. David is wearing a plaid shirt and jeans with a baseball cap on his head.

“Ready to go?”

“Definitely.” I lock the door and we head out to his waiting truck.

As we walk down the front steps, I sniff the air appreciatively. “Orange jasmine,” I exclaim. Todd gave me a perfume last year for Christmas that was called Orange Jasmine Garden and it smells
exactly
like the air.

“Orange blossoms.” David points to a nearby tree with white flowers and buds all over. “Not sure about jasmine, but you’ll smell the orange blossoms for the next few weeks at least. They’re Florida’s state flower, you know.”

“Orange blossoms? So that will have oranges on it, real, edible oranges?” I gaze in interest at the tree.

David opens the passenger side door and I climb in. “Real oranges. Look at Florida license plates. There’s a reason—we have oranges all over.”

I haven’t noticed the license plates at all, to be honest. I’ve been so busy trying to avoid thoughts of Todd, keep my head above water at work, and somehow regain a semblance of normal life that I haven’t been overly observant.

As we pull away from the curb, I look at the cars parked along the street. David was right. Oranges.

“Do you think I could plant my own orange tree?” I have visions of myself picking oranges out the window, eating them for breakfast. Like in the movie
Clueless
. Who knew that part was real?

David turns onto South Orange Blossom Trail (again! All these oranges!) and glances at me. “Sure. But seeing how you live in an apartment, I’m not sure where you’d plant it.”

True. My living room would be a bit crowded if I had a potted orange tree in there.

I change the subject. “So, tell me about yourself.” I’ve been curious about him ever since our first conversation. “I know you like fry sauce. What else should I know?”

“I hate vague questions. What should you know about me? I don’t know. What would you like to know?”

I shrug. “Just stuff. Where are you from? What are your interests? All kinds of stuff.”

“You want me to tell you ‘stuff’?” David’s voice is pleased. “All right. I’m from here, born and raised in Fort Lauderdale, but when I turned eighteen I moved around for a few years. Went to Utah and Arizona for a three-month backpacking trip with some friends, which, incidentally, is where I began my love affair with fry sauce. Then I lived in California, worked in a surf shop and spent all my money on plane tickets, exploring the world. By the time I was twenty one, I was tired of travelling and I came home. Moved to Kissimmee, entered the police academy, and have been here ever since.”

“Where did you travel?”

“Oh, all over. I went up to Alaska and into Northern Canada for a few months and after that, I—”

“I lived in Edmonton for a little while,” I interject with excitement. Connection! “I was planning on going up farther north to see the buffalo and reindeer and all that stuff, but I never got around to it.” Actually, Todd thought that would be boring, so we spent our vacations flying to St. Barts instead.

“You lived in Canada?” David seems impressed. He pulls to a stop at a red light and gazes at me across the seat. “What were you doing there?”

Crap. “I, uh,” I have no idea what to tell him. I don’t want to mention Todd, because I don’t want him interfering in this date, even just in my head, but what else can I say? I sigh inwardly, then admit, “I was with a guy and it didn’t work out.” That sounds incredibly lame. I wince without meaning to.

“You dated a Canadian?” David chuckles. “I knew you were an interesting girl when I met you. I’ve never known anyone who chose
Edmonton
as the place to be.” His eyes scan my face and I feel a quiver of nervousness. David’s a cop. He’s probably used to detecting liars. He’s probably thinking right now that I’m pathetic and creepy and . . .

“What did you think of it?”

“Of Edmonton? It was nice. I liked West Ed. The water park was super fun. They had this one slide that you step into a circle tube and then randomly the floor drops out from under you and you basically free fall down into the pool. Terrifying!” Todd had teased me when I was too scared to try that slide and eventually I had given in to save face. I almost peed myself, but I leave that detail out.

“I think Canadians are some of the nicest people in the world.” The light turns green and David accelerates.

“I agree. So where else have you been?” It’s time to change the topic back to David. No more about me or my past.

“After Canada? Well, I went to Europe, toured Spain and Italy, tried running with the bulls. Visited London and did the whole royal family thing. Buckingham Palace and whatnot. I ended up with a two month stint in the Philippines, and that’s where I decided that my life had to have a bigger meaning than just exploring. I saw all the people, hundreds of thousands of them, and for some reason, it hit me that I shouldn’t just be living life for fun, but I should be helping people.”

David shoulder checks and then turns into a parking lot. “Which is why I came back. Figured policemen could help make a difference, and slowly I’ve gotten into more of the social work aspect of things. I’ve been working with custody cases and family courts for a couple years now, and it feels really . . .” David shrugs his shoulders and looks out the window. His voice is the same as before, but I can detect a hint of . . . something. Maybe I won’t ask anything else about his job right now. It seems a little personal.

I try to think of something else, but, after talking about Canada, Todd is haunting my thoughts. This isn’t turning out the way I imagined. Plus, David is clearly preoccupied and doesn’t want to get into personal stuff with me right now. I force a smile on my face.

“Wow, good for you.” My comment falls flat and I search for something else to talk about. A sign out the truck window captures my attention.
Gatorland!
it screams. Below the sign, the doors leading to the entrance go through a giant, gaping alligator head. Kids are scrambling around, parents are snapping pictures.

“This is—” I hesitate, not sure how to finish. It looks like fun. It’s touristy, it’s probably overpriced and packed with grandmas in Bermuda shorts, but I can’t wait. “This is brilliant!”

David has snapped out of whatever nostalgia he was reveling in and grins at me. “Just wait until you’re inside.”

He opens the door and then jerks his head around to look at me. “Hold it!”

My hand is on the door handle and I jump a little. Did I do something wrong?

“It’s a first date. My mother would beat me if I didn’t open the door for you. Wait right here.”

I know it’s archaic, but the action makes me smile. I lean against the seat as David half-jogs his way around the vehicle and opens my door. I feel like . . . Cinderella, maybe? Maybe this date has potential after all. Now if I can only stop thinking about Todd, things will be perfect.

After helping me out of the truck, David holds out his arm and I slip my arm through his. We enter through the massive gator mouth and David pays for the both of us. We hold out our wrists for the admission armbands and then the ticket girl hands us two little baggies with four raw hotdogs in each one. I wrinkle my nose and look at David.

“Um, what’s with the wieners?” The smell of uncooked hot dogs makes me gag.

“They’re for feeding the gators,” the girl contributes. “Much more humane than giving them live animals.”

That’s right. I remember from the pamphlet the bit about letting people feed the alligators.

“As long as I don’t have to eat them, I guess.”

“What, you don’t like hot dogs?” David lifts an eyebrow.

“No, actually. I’m a vegetarian.” As always, I feel a rush of pride when I say those words. Vegetarians are in their own class of people. It’s like a club or something.

“Really?” David takes my hand and we wander past a gift shop toward the main park. “Then I guess you won’t be up for trying some good old alligator meat with me, will you?” His tone takes on a cajoling sound.

“Alligator meat? Yuck, won’t it be all rubbery?”

“Nope, not at all. Gators taste like chicken.” We pass a small vendor’s cart and the most appetizing aroma rises from the grill. My dilemma at Mama’s restaurant when I first arrived in Kissimmee returns in full force.

“That smells delicious,” I admit, licking my lips. “And you claim that’s alligator?”

“I swear it.” David hands some cash to the vending man and takes two little shish kebabs from him. I sniff longingly.

Maybe I could be a red meat vegetarian. Or red meat and seafood or something. In fact, I could swear off all meat
except
for reptile meat. Right?

Because that looks amazing.

David takes a bite and chews. “Just like I remember from when I was a kid.”

“You came here when you were little?” I try to imagine a tiny, blue-eyed, black-haired little boy, but can’t picture it. David is so . . . big.

“Sure did. This was the last vacation my parents took together before they split up. They’d decided to have one final thing as a family and we came here. And that was my first taste of alligator meat.” He smiles and takes another bite. As he chews, he holds the other kebab out to me. “I won’t hold it against you if you don’t want to try it, but it’s yours if you do.”

I guess it doesn’t matter if I’m a vegetarian or not. That was part of my old life, my old self. College student Kennedy. NHL-fiancée Kennedy.

Maybe Florida Kennedy can eat meat.

David watches me, and I realize that we’ve stopped walking. “You all right?” He looks concerned and his forehead is crinkled. “I hope I didn’t offend you by offering the meat.”

“No, no,” I say quickly. “I was just . . . I guess I was analyzing my life, which is probably not at all what you intended by offering me the gator.” I laugh in self-deprecation and eye David without turning my head.

“Analyzing your life? And what did you discover?”

I reach out for his hand and squeeze it. Then I hold out my other hand and take the gator kebab. Deliberately I raise it to my lips and take a bite. Mmm. That is delicious. I close my eyes and chew my first piece of meat in years. “I discovered that I’m tired of playing the part of somebody I’m not. And that I’ve been craving meat ever since I moved here, and, my goodness, it’s about time I did something about it.”

I finish off the kebob and lick my fingers where some of the grease had dripped down. “You were right. It tastes sort of like chicken. I can’t believe I ate gator!”

My voice has gotten high and excited and it takes a large measure of self control to calm myself down.

I wish Emily Poole could see me now, licking my fingers, eating meat, on a date with a nobody. She would be horrified, and I imagine her squawk of indignation if she were witnessing this.

“You’re smiling.” I jump a little and discover that David has been watching me. I’m staring off into space, imagining Emily Poole and our old crowd, but I’m brought back to the present with a jerk.

“Uh, yeah, I just think it’s funny. You know, me being here, eating food with my fingers, a million miles away from . . . everything.” I trail off, sure that he’s going to think I’m bizarre.

“You’re hiding from something, aren’t you?” I try to smile, but David’s expression is searching and I look away.

“Who doesn’t have things in their past that need to stay in the past?” My attempt to be flirty and nonchalant falls flat.

“If you don’t want to tell me, don’t worry about it. We have time for that later.” David reaches over to a nearby flowering tree and plucks a bright, pink flower from it. He picks off the leaves stuck to the stem and then carefully places it in my hair, over my left ear.

I touch the flower with gentle fingertips and try not to appear twitter-pated. I shoot sidelong glances at David as we amble on to Alligator Island, but he stoically avoids eye contact. He has an unfamiliar awkwardness about him and he babbles on about the history of the park, telling me that Alligator Island is where the largest gators in the park are at. It looks like this little Romeo flower action took a lot of his nerve, and I am flattered.