by Whitley Cox
Her stunning eyes glittered in amusement. “We’re playing hooky? Should be an easy day then.”
Mark chuckled. “Fingers crossed.”
Her gaze shifted to Mark’s buddies. “Nice to meet you guys. Enjoy your game.” Then she took the bottle, grabbed her purse off the bench against the wall and headed toward the door.
Should Mark see her out? He usually walked her to the door. But then that just left his friends alone in his kitchen with more opportunity to gossip and speculate.
Ah, fuck it. His mother had raised a gentleman.
Jogging, and all to the snickering of his stupid friends, he caught up with her at the door. She’d just shrugged into her coat and pulled her chestnut hair free to splay behind her. He wanted to run his fingers through the soft tresses, feel it brush against his skin, over his stomach, his thighs as she …
“Thanks again for the wine.” Her smile would fuel his dreams for another night. “Malbec is my favorite.”
“Mine too.” He held the door open for her, cursing his friends and wishing they’d bailed and that he and Tori were still sitting at the table eating dinner together. That was how he wanted to spend his night … how he wanted to spend every night.
Her phone started to ring in her pocket. She pulled it out, made a face of irritation, then canceled the call, shoving the phone back into her coat. She flashed him a big smile. “Telemarketer.”
“Hate those.”
Her smile was sweet. “See you tomorrow.” Then she stepped into the cold, the wind whipping her hair into a wild frenzy behind her.
“Good night, Tori.”
6
“Dude, you’ve got it bad,” Riley joked, shoving a handful of potato chips into his mouth, settling back into Mark’s leather couch in the media room.
“She’s crazy cute,” Will added. “How old is she? Seems young.”
Emmett made a noise in his throat before taking a sip of his beer.
Mark shot his best friend a look. “What? We’re not dating. She works for me. She works with Gabe. It’s completely different than Tiff and Huntley or whatever the fuck his name is. Lay off.”
“How old is she?” Emmett asked. “You think she eventually wants to get married again, have kids of her own? You prepared for that?”
Mark growled. “I have no idea how old she is. And we’re not dating. I’m assuming she wants to get married again and have children. How the fuck does that affect me?”
Emmett lifted his eyebrows. “You’re getting awfully defensive for being just her employer.”
Mark glared at his friend. “Watch the game.”
“Oh, I am. I’m also watching the game going on with you. And something tells me, in the end of it all, you’re not going to come out as victor.”
As long as Gabe or Tori didn’t get hurt, he had no problem losing.
“But seriously, how old is she?” Will asked.
Mark stood up and walked into the adjoining room that was his office. “Old enough to be married and then divorced. Old enough to put her lying, cheating husband through dental school,” he called back to his friends as he located Tori’s resume on a stack of papers on his desk. He walked back into the media room.
“Yeah, but you can get married at eighteen, and if her husband was older … ” Will continued.
Mark tossed the resume at his friend. Will’s big, dark palm reached out and caught it before it fluttered to the ground. He was all grins.
“Says here she’s twenty-seven,” Will said. “And … ” He glanced at his watch. “Her birthday is tomorrow.”
Mark’s head snapped up from where he’d been focused on his beer bottle. “What?”
Will passed the resume back. “See for yourself. She’ll be twenty-eight tomorrow.”
Mark stared at Tori’s birthdate. Sure enough, it was tomorrow. He needed to do something for her.
“Twenty-eight isn’t that young,” Will added. “Ten years is totally doable if you’re on the same page.”
“They’re not on any page, according to Mark,” Riley said. He glanced at Mark. “You gonna do something for her?”
Mark’s eyes darted between his friends. “Should I? I should, right? Flowers? Wine? Chocolate?”
“That’s romantic shit.” Riley clucked his tongue. “Better off to get her something platonic, like … ” He stroked his chin and squinted, not bothering to take his eyes off the television. “Hmm … what do you get a female employee you want to bang but can’t bang because she’s your employee?”
“I don’t want to bang her,” Mark growled.
All three of his friends fixed their gaze on him and said “Bullshit” at exactly the same time.
“What do I get her?” he asked, ignoring them.
“Starbucks gift card?” Emmet suggested. “It’s always what I get JoJo’s teachers for Christmas and shit. They love it.”
Mark’s eyes went wide, and his mind began to race. Tori had mentioned a few weeks ago about how she loved a certain organic cream of Earl Grey tea at a local loose-leaf tea shop. She’d shown up with a to-go coffee mug and a loose-leaf tea strainer. She savored her cup over breakfast, explaining it was the last of her stash and the tea was too rich for her blood to indulge in right now.
“You’re thinking mighty hard over there,” Emmet said with suspicion in his tone.
Mark shook his head. “No, I just figured out the perfect gift.”
“If it’s edible underwear, you’re sending the wrong message,” Will joked.
Mark rolled his eyes. “It’s not, but now I know what I’m getting you for your birthday.”
What to do? What to do? Mark had let Tori know last night that he intended to keep Gabe home from school after his outbursts with the substitute, so Tori spent the morning wracking her brain on what they could do all day. It also happened to be her birthday, so she wanted to make the day extra special.
As was the Jones family tradition for birthdays—at least now that she and her sister lived on their own—she did a group video chat with her parents and sister in the morning, and they all “had breakfast” together. She opened her gifts and cards from them on camera and even blew out a candle in her morning pancakes (a tradition her mother had been doing with them since they were small).
Her sister had bought her a new purse from that kitschy boho store down at Pike Place, the one Tori had been ogling a few weeks ago, and her parents sent her money and a new DSLR camera. She cried when she opened it.
She and Ken had received a fancy camera as a wedding present, and it had ignited a passion for photography inside her she didn’t know she possessed. Life and the world around her was suddenly full of new intensity, new angles and new beauty she’d never noticed before, and she became obsessed with capturing it.
For the next few years, following the blossoming of her photography obsession, all gifts she gave revolved around photography, whether it be framed shots of landscapes she’d captured or the offering of a photo shoot for friends with children or engagements. She gave the gift of herself, her time, her passion and her unique eye for capturing the beauty in all things.
She’d been positively devastated when she inquired about the camera after Ken kicked her out and he said it had fallen off a shelf and broken. She didn’t believe him, but she also didn’t want to argue. All the fight had been zapped out of her the moment she came home to find her bags on the front stoop and the door locked.
Isobel told her to go after it in the divorce if she had to. But her parents knew how much photography meant to her and bought her a new one. They said they couldn’t stand to see her lose her passion for something that brought her and others so much joy. With tears of joy, she hugged the new camera to her chest like a baby. Because that first camera had been her baby. She never went a day without taking a picture. Mostly of nature, or landscapes, but if the day was nasty and she couldn’t make it outside, she’d practice different angles and lighting techniques in her well-lit bathroom with a skylight, ta
king pictures of the only succulent she’d ever managed to keep alive, in her bathtub with droplets of water on its rubbery leaves.
With a spring in her step and her new camera and camera bag slung over her shoulder, she made her way up the driveway to the front of Mark’s house.
It had been an exceptional start to the day, and she was determined to make the good vibes last until she clocked out. Despite her rough time with Gabe the day before, she knew that today could easily be as if Gabe had hit the Refresh button and be as smooth as a slack tide.
Mark had said after day one, when she’d knocked, that she could just come right in. She had a key and wouldn’t be expected to knock if she worked at a hospital or coffee shop. So she did just that. Hand on the handle, she stepped inside the warm, inviting and homey Seattle home. A house she had quickly come to love and enjoy spending time in.
She wasn’t sure if the décor was from Mark’s ex-wife or not, but it suited the place. It suited Mark—clean and modern with lots of white, black and chrome, but at the same time, just the right amount of dark wood, warm tones and rich, earthy accents. It was the perfect blending of modern meets comfy-chic that could almost only be pulled off with a professional interior designer.
She heard the soft tunes from the kitchen playing as she hung up her coat. Mark always played music, usually The Stones or Pink Floyd, when he made breakfast. Not too loud, though, as Gabe wasn’t a fan of loud noises.
Tori rounded the corner to find father and son sitting at the table enjoying their breakfast: two eggs sunny side up on an English muffin, fruit on the side and a small bowl of oatmeal for Mark, and scrambled eggs, no salt and half a banana for Gabe. Same thing every day. She loved it. She too was a creature of habit. She enjoyed her yogurt with homemade granola and blueberries every morning. She sorely missed her cream of Earl Grey though. The grocery store bagged tea at eight dollars for one hundred bags just wasn’t cutting it.
“Good morning,” she said, taking a seat next to Gabe and running her hand affectionately over the back of his head. “How did the night go?”
Mark finished his mouthful of egg before speaking. “Woke up crying once around two thirty, but I took him to the bathroom, cuddled him for a bit, and he went back to sleep no problem.”
Tori turned to face Gabe. Mark’s intense green eyes were making impure thoughts run rampant through her head. “Good job, buddy. And how are we feeling this morning?”
Gabe hadn’t bothered to look at her. He just continued to pick at his eggs, pushing more food around his plate than he put in his mouth.
“So far so good,” Mark answered. “He woke up in a bit of a bad mood, a little whiny and grumbly. But I think that’s because he didn’t eat dinner last night and was hungry.”
“Then you should eat, bud. I have a whole big day planned for us. Need your energy.”
Mark got up from the table and walked behind her to take his plate to the dishwasher. “Yeah? Where you headed?” The smell of him, fresh from the shower, all manly and clean, made her lady parts tingle and her nipples turn pebble-hard. He didn’t need to brush that closely behind her, where his elbow grazed the back of her ponytail, but he did.
Had he meant to do that?
She followed Mark with her eyes. “I think we’ll hit up the kids’ play center downtown first. Entry is by donation and it has a great sensory play area. It shouldn’t be too busy, as it’s a school day. Then we’ll grab lunch at Emerald City Bakery. It has a small children’s play area with a cool train table and lots of building blocks.
“The one near Grafton and Wilkes?” he asked, rinsing his plate.
“That’s the one. Their cupcakes are amazing. Have you tried the red velvet cheesecake cupcake?”
“I have not.”
She licked her lips. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”
His smile was small and coy. It looked good on him. Reminded her of a sexy magazine model who had a secret he couldn’t wait to tell. And that secret was that he was wearing the most deliciously tight boxer briefs ever, and all you had to do was unbutton his trousers to find them.
“Where to after lunch?” he asked.
She shook her head, dislodging the dirty thoughts that had invaded her brain.
Uncle John. Kiddie pool. Chicken wings. No shirt.
“You okay?” he asked, an even sexier smile of curiosity and concern directed right at her.
She swallowed, shrugged and took a sip of her crappy grocery store Earl Grey before answering. “The aquarium. Then we’ll come back here and do some programs and make dinner. Does that sound okay?”
“Sounds like a perfect day. Though don’t make dinner. I’m going to pick something up.”
Her heart dropped. “You sure?”
That smile again. God, it was going to be the end of her. Or at the very least the end of her career. It made her want to leap up out of her seat, toss her legs around his waist and pepper his face with kisses all day long.
“Yes, I’m sure.” His lips twisted in thought. “I’m feeling like something extra special. Any suggestions? What’s your favorite go-to takeout meal?”
Tori wracked her brain for the last time she’d grabbed takeout. Seemed like years. It was a luxury she just couldn’t afford.
“Hmm … if I were to have to choose, I’d probably go with Thai. I love all the flavor combinations. They hit every note, you know? Sweet, salty, sour and spicy, and they do it in such a perfect way. What are you craving?”
The look he gave her when she asked that question made her insides liquefy. It was as if they were on the same wavelength and he was craving the exact same thing as her. And it had absolutely nothing to do with Thai food.
“Thai sounds great,” he said, not taking his eyes off her. “Any particular dish your favorite?”
“Basil chicken is really good. The more basil the better, in my opinion. Panang curry is another one of my go-tos, but some places don’t do it right, so it can be hit or miss.”
“Where is your favorite Thai restaurant?”
So many questions. And even though they were simply talking about food and a restaurant, she couldn’t deny the intensity that each of his questions was asked with. The room had grown thick with some kind of charge, one she couldn’t quite put her finger on, and was, if she was being honest, afraid to.
She glanced down at the table. His gaze was unnerving her. “Oh gosh, I haven’t been out for dinner in ages. If they’re still around, I guess I’d go to Siam I Am on Crownwood near the Bingo Palace. It’s a hole in the wall, in comparison to the other Thai restaurants downtown, but by far they have the best, most authentic Thai food in the city.” She lifted her head to look at him again. He was leaning against the counter, studying her.
“Siam I Am, huh?”
She nodded.
“All right, then, thanks for the recommendation. I’ll check them out online.”
“Oh, they don’t have a website. You have to go there and place your order at the counter. Takeout only. And they get busy.”
“Can I call and place an order?”
She shook her head. “Nope. Like I said, they’re very authentic. Like Thai street food, but indoors.”
“Ah, okay.” He glanced over at Gabe, who was still pushing his eggs around his plate. “Not sure how cooperative the little man is going to be today. You might have a hangry kid on your hands.”
The electricity that had been pulsing between them died down. Finally, she could breathe again.
“Wouldn’t be the first time. We’ll make it work. There is always the smoothie shack again.” She turned to face Gabe and made the ASL sign for all done. “Are you all done, buddy?” She grabbed his plate and pulled it away. He didn’t reach for it. “All done,” she repeated, standing up and going to the garbage disposal to dump the rest of his breakfast. No matter how often she tried to feed him leftovers, either from breakfast or lunch or from the day before, the kid had an uncanny ability to know when he was being served “old
” food. Gabe would turn his nose up at it or begin to act out and stim uncontrollably until she pulled it away.
Mark was all grins again. “That’s the spirit. I’m going to go get ready to go. You guys sticking around for a bit or heading right out?”
Tori gauged Gabe. Even if the kid had a long and decent night’s sleep, he still appeared exhausted. His challenging day yesterday was carrying over into fatigue today. “I think we’ll stick around for a bit, maybe try to get a couple of programs done this morning, and then head out shortly before lunch. I might try to get some more food into him in an hour or so. The play center isn’t open until one, so we have time.”
Mark nodded. “Okay, I’ll come say goodbye before I leave.” Then he strutted his perfect ass, in those sexy dark blue dress pants, out of the kitchen and down the hall, whistling the tune of a Rolling Stones song.
Her heart thumped hard in her chest.
So that’s what the perfect man was like?
She shut her eyes.
Uncle John. Kiddie pool. Water wings. Chicken wings. No shirt. Hairy chest. Massive gut. Gross toes.
Okay. Good. Dirty thoughts successfully gone.
She opened her eyes again only to find Mark suddenly back, staring at her with his head cocked slightly to the side. He was holding up two ties.
“You okay?”
Her mouth was desert dry. “Mhmm.”
That fucking smile. Goddamn it, why did he have to smile at her like that?
His chuckle swept across her skin, raising goosebumps as it went. “Okay, good. Thought you might have been feeling sick. Either that or sleeping on the job.” He jiggled the ties. “Which one?”
His shirt was snow white, his vest the same dark color as his pants. She’d seen him wear this combination before, and always with the black and silver striped tie. Why was he coming out asking for her opinion now? He even had the striped tie in his hand.
“The striped one.” She pointed to the tie in his right hand.
