Common Sense Doesn't Become Me by CJ Hawk Page A

much for one man. Not
that I don't think you can handle it. You certainly know how to
handle it; I mean the building."
    He looked at me straight in the eye and made
a sexual suggestion that was more of a statement of his manhood
than how he handles the building maintenance. "I can handle a lot.
I'm very good with my hands."
    I cleared my throat as I thought of all the
ways he was good with his hands. Then I decided to ask him about
working for his dad. "So, how big of a corporation is Montahue
Properties and how do you like working for your dad?"
    Just then, the waitress came up and asked us
for our order. Mason looked at me and smiled, while keeping his
eyes on me, he spoke to the waitress. "Two long necks, house
special, and two glasses of water. Can we have some menus please?"
The waitress walked off with a 'sure' and most likely didn't think
twice that Mason was staring at me while talking to her, but I did,
and I liked it. However, I needed to make sure of something to calm
my date jitter nerves "Is there some lipstick on my teeth or some
eyelashes stuck together because you have a funny smile on your
face?"
    He reached over, put his hand behind my head
and pulled me in close to him for a quick kiss. When he pulled
back, I was silent as I let out a huge breath of air in pure
happiness. That is what his kisses did to me; they made me tingle,
smile and sing in places on my body that liked singing during
moments like this. When he spoke up, his voice flirted with me. "I
just felt like kissing you, just as that waitress walked up. It
took all I had in me not to kiss you without telling her our
order."
    I laughed, because I was queen of the
distraction ploy and thought perhaps that was what he was doing.
"It was either that or you didn't want to talk about Montahue
Properties or your dad."
    He laughed and reached for my hand and held
it on the table. "It could be that or I'd rather not talk so much
shop about me. Kissing you seemed like a heck of a better idea. So
what's your favorite thing to eat here? I am guessing you like to
eat here as you have a glass vase full of matches from this place.
Do people still collect those things?"
    I laughed. "Just me. It started when I was a
kid and wanted to know where my dad was at on a Friday or Saturday
night. I would tell him in my stubborn nine-year-old voice that he
needed to prove it to me. He knew I liked to wait up silently in my
room until his shift ended, and he was safely home, so he reassured
me by bringing home matches from the bar he used to get a drink at
after work. My dad's a retired cop, and he used to tell me that
Friday and Saturday nights were the worst. Brought out the weirdos
in his district, and he just needed some down time before he came
home around midnight. So I started saving all the ones he
remembered to bring home and when he didn't bring home I figured he
forgot. As I got older, I got wiser. It wasn't just the bar, he was
having a drink at, but a lady friend or two. I guess that is how my
match collecting started."
    "Ah. Ouch. That must have hurt." He said it
with such compassion instead of the typical response of well some
men are like that. Although with my dad, I think it had become a
lifetime habit of deciding to stay married to my mom for the sake
of us girls and then when we moved out, I don't think either of
them could decide to do anything different about it. All of a
sudden, I felt his hand touch my face gently.
    "You ok? You kind of faded off there,
thinking of something? Listen. I'm sure that had to hurt knowing
your dad was making a bad decision but not all good men are like
that. Not that I'm saying your dad's not a good man, it's just a
bad decision to do something like that."
    Could you cue in the ark angels singing here?
Because this raised Catholic girl just found herself a man that
didn't think cheating was out of necessity or ok. Unlike Steve and
a few other guy's I knew. "I'm ok." I replied. Just then, the
waitress showed up with our