by Hollis Wynn
Sutton: Morning, Mike. Thanks for the message.
Lawyer Mike: You’re welcome. Was just thinking about you. Let’s plan a time for drinks soon if your schedule permits.
Sutton: Sure. I’ll be in touch.
Overall, that was much easier than I anticipated. Control Freak Mike texts more and more each time I give him the brush off. I know this isn’t the last time I’ll hear from him, but hopefully he gets it and walks away.
I zone out watching Baker and the guys. My eyes are automatically drawn to him if he’s near me. My desire for him is much more obvious since he spent Friday night taking care of me and kissing me. My girlfriends tease me and believe that if things are meant to be, then they will be. Does that mean I was meant to injure myself so Baker would rescue me? If so, does that make me a damsel in distress? I don’t think I like that. I may be twenty-eight and single, but I can take care of myself. Do I want to? Not always, but I can do it. If and when a man implants himself into my world, it will be because I want him—not because I need him. Capisce?
I try to focus on my work, but the guys are in the fishbowl conference room working and I need to pee, but I don’t want them to see me limping. The last thing I need is a bunch of ya-yas in my space being nosey.
I decide to slip in through the gym so they won’t see me. It is sore but walking on it isn’t as painful as it was this morning. Maybe, just maybe, I need to move it more to work out the stiffness. Why didn’t I think of this earlier?
I’m efficient in the bathroom and am back to my desk before anyone even knows I left. Digging in the snack drawer, I find a granola bar and a fruit cup. Since I’m both starving and bored, I decide to pull up the blog to read through the comments while I eat. I’m so lost in reading and responding that I don’t hear Baker walk up behind me.
“Hey!” he says, and I nearly jump out of my skin. I swivel around in my chair and meet his gaze.
“What’s up?” I ask him, praying he’s not looking at my screen.
“Oh, man. Do you read that blog too?” What? Oh no. He knows about the blog. I can’t confess to being the writer.
“Yeah, it’s crazy some of the stuff people do, isn’t it?”
Baker nods. “Hunter’s wife loves it and won’t stop talking about it, so he decided to rope us all in, so now we’re all invested in who she ends up with.”
My whole body tenses. Shit. Do they know it’s me? Or do they think it’s some random person?
“Wow. I didn’t expect you guys to be ‘invested’ in something like this.” I air quote around invested because that’s very interesting.
“Hey.” He smirks at me. “We have feelings too. Plus, what kind of jack ass treats a woman like those guys. I mean the guy she calls Control Freak Mike, sounds like a grade a douche. And Pilot Mike. Don’t get me started on him. Any man who sends unsolicited dick pictures and keeps a woman in every stop over, doesn’t deserve someone like her.”
I shake my head and laugh. “Wait . . .” I pause. I’m praying he doesn’t know it’s me. “Do you know her?”
“Nope. But it feels like it, considering how much Annie talks about it. Which means Hunter talks about it, and we listen.”
My lip curls and I point my finger at him, trying to stifle a laugh. “I bet you subscribe so you don’t miss a post. Am I right?”
He looks around before nodding. Well fuck, that’s the last thing I expected. Baker follows my blog and doesn’t even know it’s me. I better be careful with what I post in the future, so he doesn’t figure it out.
“I actually came over to ask if you wanted me to pick something up for you. I’m going to run out and grab some lunch.”
“That would be great. I’d love a salad from wherever you go. Just no—”
“Croutons, ” he interrupts.
“That’s correct. No croutons.” I smile. How long has he been so in tune to my wants and needs? Has this been going on a long time or am I just noticing it?
I dig around in my purse and hand him a twenty. “This should cover it. If not, let me know and I’ll give you more when you get back. Thank you so much.”
“Anytime.” He winks at me and I watch his perky booty as he makes way to the stairwell.
Get it together, Sutton. They don’t need to know it’s you!
Nineteen
“How’s the ankle, Red?”
I blush as Baker stops in front of my desk. I blush every time I see him now. Between the memory of our kisses and his following me online, I can’t control it. My stomach swells full of butterflies, much like my ankle, and I bite my lip to keep from saying the wrong thing.
“It’s good.” I smile and he smiles back. His charcoal suit fits him like a glove. One thing I can say about Baker is no matter what he’s wearing, he looks so put together. Not in a pretentious, I’m rich sort of way, but in a take pride sort of way. The combination of his powerful gait, custom fitted suits and deep blue eyes, cause anyone in his presence to stop and take notice.
“Good, I’m glad to hear it. Would you like a coffee break?” He licks his lips and grins, placing his hands in his pockets. He knows he’s irresistible, and I love the fact that he’s cocky and sexy without being an asshole.
“Sure.” It’s only eleven, but I never turn down coffee.
“Great. I was worried I’d have to drink alone,” he jokes.
I smooth the nonexistent wrinkles from my black maxi dress, hoping my boobs are perky but not showing too much. My freshly waxed legs feel amazing against the slick satin of the dress.
“Oh no. You might have never made it,” I giggle.
He winks at me as I come to his side. I love the way he towers over me. It makes me feel feminine and cared for. Ever since the night he rescued me, he’s been placing his hand at the small of my back whenever we’re walking. It feels so good. He ushers me to the break room, and I sit at the table while he brews two cups of coffee. He places them down on the table and grabs the cream and sugar basket.
“You’re hogging it,” I joke, pouring an enormous amount of sugar into my cup, while he uses one cream and one sugar.
“I don’t like to share.” His knee brushes mine. Our long legs have no room under the small table, but neither of us tries to move them. He feels good—solid and warm. My stomach flutters again and suddenly I don’t want to drink the coffee, I’m a bit queasy.
“Just your food?” My voice squeaks a little.
He chuckles. “Especially my food. Most definitely my women.”
I swallow hard. A ball of nerves settles into my throat.
“Hmm, your women?” I smile and pick up my coffee to keep my hands from shaking. He grins across the table and nods.
“When I have them, yes.”
“So, you date multiple people at once?”
“In the beginning, yes.” He takes a drink before continuing, “Until it gets serious. Then I’m totally monogamous.”
“And now?” I ask cautiously. Wondering if I really want to know the answer.
“Now, I’m not dating anyone.”
I curl my lips and take a sip of my coffee. The silence that comes next isn’t uncomfortable, just a bit unexpected. I want to ask him more, but it’s not appropriate for where we are. Anyone could walk in at any time and we would be caught.
Are we work friends or regular friends? Either way, there are lines we shouldn’t cross.
“Oh. I’m surprised.” I swallow.
“How so?” He sips his coffee, licking his lips as he sets the cup down. Forcing myself to look into his eyes, I refuse to stare at those plump pink lips and daydream about what he can do with them.
“I don’t know. You’re a good-looking guy. Smart. Successful . . .” I trail off. How obvious am I being?
I need to tone it down and not make things more awkward than they already are between us. I realize I think we’d be better off as friends, especially since working together complicates things.
“Thank you. I guess I just have bad luck. Surely you
aren’t single, are you?”
I smile, somewhat surprised at his words. I know he’s fishing, even if he doesn’t acknowledge it.
“I am. I’ve been dating but nothing serious.” I don’t want to give too much away, especially if he hasn’t put two and two together yet. So many people have opinions about online dating, even though it’s fairly common nowadays, and they assume that the people on the sites are just a bunch of whores sleeping around.
“Why is that?” he asks.
“Well,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I met them on a dating site. None of the men have really put their best foot forward, and I’m okay with that. I don’t think any of them are it for me. So, I’ll keep looking.” I shrug and take a sip of my coffee to stop the babbling.
“I’m surprised.”
“Why is that?” I ask, turning his question to me back to him.
Baker blinks a couple times before scratching behind his ear as if he’s nervous or something.
“Because you’re you.” His gaze shifts from me to the coffee in his cup. I lean into the table and cock my head to look at him.
“Who am I, Baker?” I laugh. He refuses to answer and locks his jaw into place. The lines more defined than ever before. “Come on. You have to tell me.” I slide my hand over and poke his.
“You know you’re a beautiful woman, Sutton. Smart. Witty. Easy to be around.” He finally looks at me with a wicked grin.
None of the Mikes said anything like that. Pilot Mike says I’m hot, but that’s because he wants to jump my bones. Nothing about being beautiful or smart. Baker is the only one. Ever. I can’t decide if he wants to be friends—with benefits or more.
“Thank you. That’s very kind of you.”
“It’s the truth.” He slides his chair back and makes another cup of coffee for himself. “Would you like another?”
I look down at the cold, creamy liquid in my cup and shake my head. I don’t think I could stomach any more at this point.
We move on and talk about other things. Baseball, for one. He’s a huge Cubs fan, which is the right team if you’re in Chicago. But I’m more of a football fan. Go Bears! I try to go to a couple of games a season and have a whole drawer of gear. He laughs at me and agrees to go to a game with me if I’ll go to one with him. Deal.
Twenty
I spend the night FaceTiming with Wren. I miss her so much and may need to plan a trip to Texas to see her.
We talk about Baker and the Mikes. Thankfully, she supports my analytical mind, and we rehash all the things that have happened in the last couple weeks. Does Baker like me as a friend or romantically? Does it matter?
“You have to find the balance,” Wren teases.
“Oh, shut up,” I laugh. “This is serious. I don’t want to mess up our friendship or cause tension at work. God knows there’s enough of that from my father.” I can picture us getting coffee daily, talking about all types of things. Honestly getting to know each other.
But do I want more?
“I know. Just talk to him, Sutton. He seems normal and reasonable.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Plus, if he doesn’t have romantic feelings for me, then I can just quit and find another job. Maybe the bookstore will hire me full time.”
“Oh my goodness. Stop being dramatic. You’re not going to quit your job. But girl, you may miss out on the love of your life if you don’t take that step.”
I nod at her and eat the last bit of my red velvet cupcake, before we move on to safer topics—like her kids and husband. He’s got a man cold, which you’d think was the plague considering how dramatic he’s being. Add in two sick littles and she’s exhausted and considering hiding in the closet and eating all the chocolate chip cookies in peace.
Once we hang up, I decide to tidy up the house because I let it go way too much this week as I tried to get back into a routine after babying my ankle for way too long.
I sing with the radio and try to let go of the anxiety I feel surrounding Baker. It’s part excitement and part nervous energy.
Now that I’ve admitted my feelings for him to Wren, everything is different. I’m different.
Twenty-One
Being an investigative company has its perks, but sometimes it gets a bit overwhelming when the cases grow serious. A couple weeks ago, Baker had a case where a company was concerned about an ex-employee, but they didn’t want to go to the police. That’s where SPI comes in. Some guys in the office are fixers, but most of them are investigators from a wide variety of backgrounds. Baker went to school to get his law degree, then decided not to take the bar, so he does legal and investigative work for us.
This is just one of the things I’ve learned about Baker when we meet up for our almost daily coffee breaks. I look forward to that break every day because it’s time spent with Baker.
Yeah, my crush is getting worse and I don’t know what will come next, but I’ve decided to pull up my big girl panties and just let nature take its course. I read my horoscope last week and it was very poignant for what I’m going through at this moment in time.
Capricorn (December 21—January 21)
You’re at the proverbial fork in the road, where decisions must be made. Are you satisfied where you’re at in life or are you ready to see what comes next? Once you answer that question, you’ll know which path to take. If your issue is related to matters of the heart, it’s important to close off the mind and allow the heart to feel. With every beat, you’ll be directed to the one your heart desires. If your issue is related to business then make the decisions with precision and focus your mind on what you need, not what you feel. Once you’ve decided on your path, take a leap and allow yourself to fly, into love and life.
Sometimes I can’t tell whether he’s flirting with me or just being kind. But he doesn’t act this way with the other women in the office, so maybe he is flirting with me. Though maybe he just needs a place to direct his charms and I’m the lucky winner.
I take a breath and remind myself that I’m not supposed to be over thinking this. Because it’s matters of the heart, my mind isn’t supposed to be included in how I feel or process. Thank you to my horoscope for that reminder.
So, I’m going to move on and try to focus on work for the rest of the day. The case we’re dealing with now is for Alexander Lake. He’s a partner at a firm that owns a dozen or so businesses in the city, including bars and restaurants. A large packet of paper came into the office and when I was sorting the mail, I noticed the envelope was open and so I pulled the documents out to make sure nothing was damaged. Sometimes we hire out but most of the work stays in house to keep down costs and maintain the privacy that our clients demand.
This is the first thing I’ve seen on this account in quite a while, which makes me a bit nervous. Has Baker intentionally cut me out or is this something new? I finish sorting the mail and drop it by the respective offices on my way to the kitchen for a drink and a break. Considering the amount of time I sit each day, a couple laps around the office is good for my body.
I grab a bottled smoothie from the fridge and see Chari come in behind me. “You never take breaks,” I say.
“Hard days require breaks,” she says before she sits down at the table in the corner. “I saw Baker leaving a bit ago.”
I wrinkle my nose at her and try to read between the lines. Why is she telling me this?
“I noticed his office was empty when I dropped some mail off on his desk a few minutes ago.”
“I know where he is.” She gives me her motherly smile. Or maybe it’s her “I want you to get lucky” smile. Sometimes they’re the same.
“Okay . . .” I finish the strawberry smoothie and toss the bottle in the trash. “So?”
She sighs and sits up from her spot on the chair. She looks so regal in her navy skirt suit, yet relaxed.
“So, you should go. He’s meeting Alexander Lake at The Golden Girl to discuss something that’s going on.”
I swallow. Not again. Last t
ime I was there, Vince, one of the owners, gave me the creeps.
“A club? You want me to go to The Golden Girl and surprise him?” I shake my head. No way am I doing this.
“I think you should. Just go.”
My breath hitches like I’ve just been told I have to do a strip tease for the whole office in order to keep my job.
“Why?” I plop down in the chair across from Chari.
“Because he likes you. You like him. I see the way he looks at you when he thinks no one is watching. I know he dotes on you and no one else in this office. Besides, if one of you doesn’t take some steps soon, you’re always going to be stuck in this place—wondering.”
She’s not wrong. Someone needs to take a step forward soon. I guess it might as well be me.
“Find the tightest and sexiest dress you own. Grab those super-hot, strappy heels you wore to last year’s Christmas party and go find your man.”
She’s right—as always. I sigh, mulling over her words for a bit. I would very much like to move this along and stop wondering. Being unsure is causing a large amount of exhaustion that I’ve never experienced before.
“You’re right. I’ll do it. But . . .” I pause before continuing, “What time is he going?”
She looks down at her watch and then back at me. “It’s almost four-thirty now. I assume he’s headed home to change and then will be there about six. At least that’s what he told me.” She winks at me and we both laugh.
I look down at my attire and decide I should do the same thing. I can’t wear plaid pants and a button down to a club.
“Go,” Chari says. “I’ll take care of everything here.”
This is a bad idea. An unbelievably bad idea.
I’m standing outside my apartment waiting for the cab I called, dressed like a two-dollar hooker at six p.m. on a Tuesday night. What am I doing?
