by T Gephart
He ran his hand through his hair, pushing the longer part over to the other side. “Yeah, sure. Mason and I are planning on getting messed up tonight but try me anyway. I’ll call you back if I miss the call.”
He was moving on too.
My head nodded, powered by sheer will as I tried to smile. “We should hang out sometime this week. Compare notes,” I added lamely.
“Sounds like a plan. I’ll look forward to it.” It might have been his voice but it was stilted and unemotional.
I threw my arms around him again, pretending to be flippant but I knew if I didn’t get out of that room soon I was going to make a fool of myself.
“Well, thanks for the chat. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” It was the truest thing I’d said since walking in the room. I knew I had to let him go but I didn’t want to. “I’ll call you.”
“Great,” he answered, letting his hands drop. “I should probably see if my client is here.”
“Yeah, yeah. Of course. Talk later.” I walked backward toward the closed door, something hitting my butt making me spin around.
He laughed, walking toward me and opening the door. “Here, let me get that for you.”
“Yep, wouldn’t want my ass to receive any more unwanted attention.” I laughed, wondering if I could be any more pathetic.
He ignored the joke about my ass and joined me outside, no words said by either of us as we walked down the hall to the front of the shop.
Sure enough, there was a skinny guy who barely looked eighteen sitting in a chair waiting for him. I had been so caught up with Dallas and our conversation I hadn’t heard the bells jangling to alert us someone had walked in.
“I’ll be a minute, dude.” Dallas nodded to the skinny kid, opening the door and walking me outside.
I faced him, not wanting to prolong the goodbye and make it any more awkward than it already had been. “Thanks again. See you soon.” I gave him a quick wave and turned away, not paying any attention to the direction I was walking.
His eyes were still on me until I turned the corner. I felt him watch me until I disappeared, but he didn’t call me back. It was better he didn’t, not sure I wouldn’t tell him I’d been wrong and confused and didn’t want to be with anyone else.
It wouldn’t be fair.
It had been my choice.
And I had chosen to let him go.
Kitty
IF I HADN’T BEEN EXCITED TO GO on my date before, I’d become even less enthused as the afternoon wore on. I was lethargic, taking my time showering and getting ready with no urgency at all.
But whether I wanted to or not, I was going on that date.
Not because I thought that Justin was going to be the man for me—I was almost positive he wasn’t—but because I needed to get back on the horse and forget about the mess I’d created.
It was funny how I hadn’t wanted to have sex with Dallas because I thought it would ruin a good thing, turns out, I was wrong. It hadn’t been the sex at all.
Instead, I just got too close and developed feelings, the lines of friendship getting muddled in my head so I began to feel like I was falling for him.
Crazy.
I could not fall in love with what had become—without even realizing—my best friend.
So instead I would go out with Justin, who smelled nice and had a pretty face, and pretend like it was business as usual. Because that was what I needed to do until I could forget about what I was feeling, and deal with reality.
I went through all the motions.
Nice dress.
Put on makeup.
Did my hair.
Then I Ubered my sorry ass back to Manhattan on a Tuesday evening. To go to a bar, and have my agreed upon one drink. Any more than that and I could possibly get emotional and I didn’t need to get weepy at a bar full of strangers.
He was still wearing the same suit—obviously having come straight from work—but was facing the door despite sitting at the bar. It was like he saw me at the same time, his eyes lighting up in surprise as though he hadn’t been sure I’d turn up. Well at least he didn’t think I was a forgone conclusion like most men—he earned extra points for that.
As I walked toward him, he stood like a gentleman, waiting for me to get closer before he leaned in and said in my ear, “You look amazing, I’m so glad you came.”
“Thank you.” I smiled, hoping it looked sincere.
He didn’t touch me—he was really racking up those points—gesturing to the back of the bar. “There’s some seats back there, it’s quieter too.”
Just have a drink. Make conversation. And then leave.
My itemized list of instructions looped in my head as I followed him to the back of the bar. He was right, it was quieter there, with most of the customers preferring to drink near the front.
There were a few vacant tables, and he chose the one that didn’t back up against the wall. It surprised me, the table near the wall affording us more privacy in the off chance we decided to have “a moment.” Not that there was any danger of that, but as far as I knew he couldn’t read my mind so I assumed he would think there might be a chance. He even held my chair out for me as I sat down, taking his own seat after I’d gotten settled.
“You have really good manners,” I heard myself saying, wanting to compliment him on something but fishing for something non sexual.
He chuckled, his eyes giving me their full attention. “Not sure who you’ve been dating, Kitty, but real men don’t act like pigs when they’re with a lady.”
It was not what I was expecting him to say, but it did make me smile. The tension in my shoulders started to ease as I leaned forward. “Now pigs, that’s something I have experience with. I’ve dated so many of them I’m surprised I haven’t ended up with swine flu.”
He laughed, seeming to be amused by my cheesy joke. “Then it’s a good thing you agreed to come out with me. I’ll be glad to show you we’re not all like that. So tell me, beautiful, what can I get you to drink tonight?”
I liked being called beautiful just as much as the next girl. It was silly that we’d invested so much stock in our appearance, but yet, we liked to hear it all the same. But as lovely as it was to hear—and he sounded sincere about it—it felt wrong coming from him. And there was no way I was letting a man I didn’t know get me a drink.
Not because I believed a man shouldn’t buy a drink for a woman, because I had no issue if he wanted to spend his cash.
No, my issue was that him buying me a drink meant walking to the bar, getting the drink and then bringing it back. All the while leaving my drink out of my sight and giving him ample time to slip something in it.
And while I made stupid decisions about relationships, the same couldn’t be said about trusting random men with my safety in a bar.
“Let me get the drinks.” I stood before he had a chance to stop me. “It will give me a chance to show you how real women reward good manners.”
He joined me on his feet, looking a little stunned by my sudden need to stand. “I’d prefer if you let me pay. After all, I asked you out.”
I wasn’t sure if he was being sweet or trying to secure his opportunity, but either way, I wasn’t bending.
“But I ran into you twice, so I should pay as way of apology.” I grabbed my purse, making it clear I wasn’t backing down. “So what are you having? Beer? Wine?”
“Wine, a merlot,” he conceded, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’m buying the next one, no arguments,” he warned, having no idea that there probably wouldn’t be a next one.
With his drink order secured, I walked back around to the bar. I ordered his merlot and got myself a dry white, carrying them both to the table. He stood again, taking the glasses from my hand and setting them down in front of us.
After waiting for me to take my seat, he picked up his glass and took a sip. “Now we’re no longer at your work—which would have ruled me out of your dating pool—let me introduce myself.”
He held out his hand waiting for me to shake it. “I’m Justin Easton, I’m a lawyer and work on Wall Street, but you already knew that since you’re a fortune teller.” He winked. “I love the mountains, hate the beach, and probably spend too much money on my wardrobe.”
“Well I guess we have one thing in common. I spend too much on my clothes too.” I moved my hand from his. “I’m Kitty Donavan, and I’m an executive assistant at Braxton Hill. I love all places, don’t hate much, and think the fortune telling thing was a fluke so hope you won’t be disappointed when I can’t give you the Powerball numbers.”
He laughed taking another mouthful of wine and savoring it. “So which one of those assholes is your boss? Let me guess?” He swirled the stem of the glass in his hand. “Martin Braxton.”
“No, and Martin is a sweetheart,” I corrected, the eighty-year old not only the founder of the company, but had believed in Garrett and made him CEO. “Garrett Brown is my boss, who is also not an asshole.”
“Fair enough, I guess in my line of work I see another side to people. Most of the time not the nicer side.” He grinned as he set his glass down. “Should I take it personally if Martin isn’t a sweetheart to me?”
“He just takes a while to warm up to people and especially until they earn his trust. It took me a year before he’d even let me in his office,” I admitted.
I had been holding my glass of wine and had yet to take a drink, so I lifted it to my lips and swallowed. The wine was cool, so I took another sip, letting myself relax a little. “So now that I’ve told you who I work for, why don’t you tell me who you were there to see?”
I already knew his appointments had been with Matthew Crisp, I had seen that the day I stalked the appointment schedule. But talking about work was safe, it meant there was less chance he could ask me more about me. And as much as I had agreed to go on the date, I wasn’t looking to reveal too much of myself.
“Ahhh, couldn’t tell you that. Client/attorney privilege.” He smiled, taking a deep breath and trying to look sympathetic.
“Which you’re not breaking simply by telling me they’re your client, especially if you no longer work with them.”
“Wow, smarter than you look, I see.” He lifted his glass to toast me. “And here I was distracted by your beauty.”
It wasn’t the first time someone had assumed I was dumb because of what I looked like, and most of the time, it didn’t bother me. Who cared if they assumed I was an airhead? I didn’t need their approval, but suddenly I had to wonder if that was all people saw when they looked at me.
Pretty.
Nice body.
Someone for a good time.
All of those things were accurate, except I was more than that. And suddenly I didn’t want the empty admiration. Treated like a pretty picture in Eve’s gallery.
“Look, Justin. If you want to make small talk and finish our drinks, we can do that. But I’m not a bimbo.” If I was going to be spending time with a man I didn’t really want, then he wasn’t going to treat me less than what I was.
He reached out and touched my arm, which other than the handshake we’d shared earlier was the first time he’d touched me. “Kitty, I’m sorry. That was rude of me and I apologize. There I was telling you all men aren’t pigs and I proved myself wrong. Please stay and finish the drink, I know you’re not a bimbo.”
I wanted to believe he was sincere, but I just didn’t know. Still, I was there and with no reason to hurry home, I figured I might as well finish my drink. “Thank you.” I accepted his apology. “So tell me more about yourself.”
His body relaxed, easing back when he saw I wasn’t leaving. “What would you like to know?”
“What branch of law are you in?”
“Corporate.”
“Hmmm, I guess you can’t get me out of my speeding tickets then.” I played along, trying to be funny since flirty was out.
His smile widened. “I bet I could, why don’t you let me see if I can and earn myself a second date?”
Shit.
“There are no speeding tickets, I don’t even have a car,” I admitted, not wanting to continue the lie. “I was just joking.”
His smile didn’t falter, taking another sip of his wine. “Well then, I’ll have to work out another way to earn that second date.”
We talked some more but neither of us volunteered much information, and while it hadn’t been completely unpleasant, I was ready to go home by the time he suggested a second drink.
“So soon?” He stood, looking disappointed. “I thought we agreed I’d buy the second drink, now it seems I’ve become indebted.”
“It’s fine, honestly. I have to get up early for work tomorrow and I live on the other side of town. I should go.” I collected my handbag, ready to go.
He looked to the door and then back to me. “Then at least let me drive you. You don’t have a car, and it will make me feel less like an asshole for what I said earlier.”
“It’s fine, it’s already forgotten.”
“Not by me.”
There was nothing about him that seemed suspect, and other than being cocky and that little slur earlier he actually seemed sweet. But as much as my brain was telling me the only reason I didn’t want him to drive me home was because he might be a serial killer, it was because I didn’t want him to attempt to kiss me.
I wouldn’t kiss him.
Not when the only kisses I wanted were the ones given to me by Dallas.
I’d rather go without.
“That is really generous of you, but I’m honestly fine. Thank you.”
He clearly wasn’t used to rejection because he almost looked shocked. But he recovered well by walking me out and waiting while I hailed a cab.
He held the door of the taxi, watching me step inside. “Give me your number, give me a chance at a second date.”
“You’re just going to remember it?” I looked at his hands around the door, no effort to get his own phone out to enter it.
“Don’t underestimate my memory, Kitty. Or my desire to get to know you better.”
I didn’t know what to say, rambling the numbers off quickly without giving him a chance to get ready. I wasn’t sure I wanted him to remember but if he did, he’d probably have earned the second date. He smiled, closing the door behind me without bothering to repeat them back and the cab took off, leaving him on the curb.
I was incredibly tired, my eyes closed as the rock of the car threatened to send me to sleep. I just wanted to get into my own bed and sleep.
Dallas
“I’M NOT SURE WHY I’M HERE, DALLAS.” Numbnuts pouted from his seat beside me. We were sitting at the bar like real men, not in a booth like a bunch of losers.
“Because, asshole, you got me into this mess, you need to get me out of it.” I took another pull on my beer, draining it dry. There would be more where that came from, I hadn’t been drunk in a while and it seemed like tonight was as good a night as any.
After Kitty had left and told me all about some dick who probably wanted to screw her brains out, I’d barged into Mason’s room and told him we had plans for the evening. By the look on his face when he’d agreed, he’d probably been too scared to say no.
Not my concern on how we got there, just that we did.
And knowing I was planning on giving my liver a workout, I’d agreed to let him drive my car. I’d also generously let him spend the night at my apartment, something he didn’t seem too excited about—ungrateful ass. But he was smart enough—or scared enough, I didn’t care which—to agree.
My objective was simple.
We get me drunk, him looking less like a tattooed version of a bible salesman, and get us both laid.
Or just me laid because I honestly couldn’t give a shit what he did with his dick as long as the curse was off mine.
“I promise you, there is no hex. I didn’t do anything.”
It was what he’d been saying the whole time, and hearing it again didn’t have
me any more convinced.
“Blah, blah, blah. You know you talk a lot? Use some of those words to order us another drink.”
He rolled his eyes but did what I said and got me another beer, while he switched to what looked like a Sprite. I shook my head, knowing it was going to take at least another five more of what was in my hand to get me even close to feeling good.
“So, are you looking for anything in particular?” Mason sipped his soda as he looked out into the crowd. “Blond, brunette, redhead?”
“Jesus,” I scrubbed my face with my hand. “It’s not a fucking catalogue, you can’t just pick one out.”
“Isn’t that what you told me you used to do?”
Yep, definitely wasn’t drunk enough.
“Didn’t I tell you to stop talking?”
He shut his mouth shaking his head as he went back to his drink. Thankfully he wasn’t sipping it through a straw so at least he had that going for him.
“Hey, sexy,” I felt a pair of hands around my arm. “Wanna buy me a drink?”
The first thing I saw when I turned were a pair of humongous tits. Those things were massive, pulling against her top like her nipples were having a tug-of-war party underneath. Next were her lips, which were proportional to her tits—huge.
And yeah, I’d seen enough. Sure, that while she would’ve previously been exactly what I was looking for, I wasn’t feeling it anymore. My tastes had changed, preferring a subtler, slender figure. And while I had enjoyed porno tits and blowjob lips in the past, the thought of putting my dick close to either made it want to retreat.
I pulled back, shaking my head. “Not tonight, sweetheart, but thanks for the offer.”
She sighed, tapping her toe as she moved her attention to Mason. “What about you?”
Unable to stop myself, I barked out a laugh. It was the first real one I’d had for the night and I wasn’t sure if it was attributed to the situation or the beer. Either way I was grateful. “You are barking up the wrong tree with that one.” I chuckled, slapping Mason on the shoulder. “Trust me, babe. Neither of us are interested.”
