grabbing Abby’s arm and dragging her to her feet. “A better mis-quote, and so apropos to this conversation: ‘Younger men are less complicated.’” Abby chuckled reluctantly. “With that thought in mind, get sexy and let’s go blow the stank off with a few dozen young men. No baggage, no big history.” Sarah eyes went big and round as she backed up the stairs, towing Abby with her. “Just fun and lust. Change, right?”
Abby took a deep breath and let it out in a gust. “Right. Change.”
Sarah shrieked and ran for the shower. “You’d better not wuss out on me, I swear to God.”
Abby flapped her hand at her. “Go already, before I change my mind.”
Two hours later, after a change of clothes and a meal grabbed at a small bistro on the boardwalk, they walked into The Catalyst, Santa Cruz’s hotspot for food, drinks, and dancing. They were headed toward the bar when Sarah spotted some of the people from her bike group. “Grab us a spot, babe,” she shouted over the crowd. “I’ll be right back.”
A gin and tonic later, she was still MIA. Abby ordered another cocktail from the harried barmaid. As bright and cheerful as the room was, it really wasn’t her style. Clubs might have done it for her a decade and a half before, but now she appreciated a well-mixed drink, cozy atmosphere, and music over which she could hear herself think.
“Change is good…change is good,” Abby muttered to herself, turning back toward the bar when she couldn’t spot Sarah. She lifted her hair off her neck and looked down, fanning her nape with a cocktail napkin.
“That right there is beautiful.” A gentle finger ran over the arch of her neck. “I wish I had my camera.”
Her head jerked up, and she stepped closer to the bar before half-turning to see Matt, his eyes unfocussed and his face a mask of concentration. He shook his head after a second and smiled, looking at his still upraised hand before lowering it. “Sorry. Force of habit. I’m a sensory learner, too.” His smile widened. “It’s like I can’t really ‘see’ unless I use my hands. Know anyone else like that, pretty lady?”
Taking a swallow of her drink, Abby grimaced at the burn in her throat. “I might. You know, I’m beginning to think you really are stalking me, surferboy.” She narrowed her eyes. “Are you the one who told Sarah about this little slice of heaven?”
Matt chuckled and gestured at his clothes. “Do I look like I spend a lot of time here?”
Abby compared his navy tee and worn jeans to the bright vacation clothes on the majority of the people in the room. She shook her head. “Don’t you own another shirt?” she joked.
He looked down at himself in surprise. “I was wearing this shirt the other day, wasn’t I? Glad you noticed.” Matt smiled. “I happen to like things that have stood the test of time. Take these jeans, for example.” He slid onto the stool next to Abby and nodded toward its companion. She scooted up onto the seat, and he gestured at the barmaid for two more drinks. Looking down at the leg of his jeans, Abby tried to ignore the muscles underneath, instead concentrating on the denim, pale from many washings and with a sheen like velvet. She caught herself as she reached out to touch Matt’s thigh, and he laughed, raising one leg toward her. “Go ahead. They really are that soft. I’ve had them since high school, which makes them older than some people in this bar.” Abby shook her head and turned back toward her drink. Matt grabbed her hand gently. “C’mon. You know you want to,” he teased as he drew Abby’s fingers toward his leg. “You won’t be able to sleep for wondering.”
She relented, brushing just the tips of her fingers on the fabric right above his knee. “Soft,” she murmured, looking up to find Matt watching her. He let go of her hand and lowered his leg.
“Why didn’t you come down to the water today, pretty lady?” Matt asked. He watched Abby’s hands as she
Abby took a deep breath and let it out in a gust. “Right. Change.”
Sarah shrieked and ran for the shower. “You’d better not wuss out on me, I swear to God.”
Abby flapped her hand at her. “Go already, before I change my mind.”
Two hours later, after a change of clothes and a meal grabbed at a small bistro on the boardwalk, they walked into The Catalyst, Santa Cruz’s hotspot for food, drinks, and dancing. They were headed toward the bar when Sarah spotted some of the people from her bike group. “Grab us a spot, babe,” she shouted over the crowd. “I’ll be right back.”
A gin and tonic later, she was still MIA. Abby ordered another cocktail from the harried barmaid. As bright and cheerful as the room was, it really wasn’t her style. Clubs might have done it for her a decade and a half before, but now she appreciated a well-mixed drink, cozy atmosphere, and music over which she could hear herself think.
“Change is good…change is good,” Abby muttered to herself, turning back toward the bar when she couldn’t spot Sarah. She lifted her hair off her neck and looked down, fanning her nape with a cocktail napkin.
“That right there is beautiful.” A gentle finger ran over the arch of her neck. “I wish I had my camera.”
Her head jerked up, and she stepped closer to the bar before half-turning to see Matt, his eyes unfocussed and his face a mask of concentration. He shook his head after a second and smiled, looking at his still upraised hand before lowering it. “Sorry. Force of habit. I’m a sensory learner, too.” His smile widened. “It’s like I can’t really ‘see’ unless I use my hands. Know anyone else like that, pretty lady?”
Taking a swallow of her drink, Abby grimaced at the burn in her throat. “I might. You know, I’m beginning to think you really are stalking me, surferboy.” She narrowed her eyes. “Are you the one who told Sarah about this little slice of heaven?”
Matt chuckled and gestured at his clothes. “Do I look like I spend a lot of time here?”
Abby compared his navy tee and worn jeans to the bright vacation clothes on the majority of the people in the room. She shook her head. “Don’t you own another shirt?” she joked.
He looked down at himself in surprise. “I was wearing this shirt the other day, wasn’t I? Glad you noticed.” Matt smiled. “I happen to like things that have stood the test of time. Take these jeans, for example.” He slid onto the stool next to Abby and nodded toward its companion. She scooted up onto the seat, and he gestured at the barmaid for two more drinks. Looking down at the leg of his jeans, Abby tried to ignore the muscles underneath, instead concentrating on the denim, pale from many washings and with a sheen like velvet. She caught herself as she reached out to touch Matt’s thigh, and he laughed, raising one leg toward her. “Go ahead. They really are that soft. I’ve had them since high school, which makes them older than some people in this bar.” Abby shook her head and turned back toward her drink. Matt grabbed her hand gently. “C’mon. You know you want to,” he teased as he drew Abby’s fingers toward his leg. “You won’t be able to sleep for wondering.”
She relented, brushing just the tips of her fingers on the fabric right above his knee. “Soft,” she murmured, looking up to find Matt watching her. He let go of her hand and lowered his leg.
“Why didn’t you come down to the water today, pretty lady?” Matt asked. He watched Abby’s hands as she
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