“My grandma is fine with me. You, on the other hand, must have some real issues if you have a problem with having sex without strings attached. You need to be freer. More open. I could tell from watching you how uptight you are.” He rose to his feet, too, just as the waitress approached. She glanced from me to Jon, confusion on her face.
“I need my check, please.”
She frowned at me as though I were speaking a foreign language. “I thought you were waiting for your, um, friend.”
“I was, but as it turned out, he’s an asshole. And since I don’t let assholes pay for my drinks, I need you to get me my check so I can get the hell out of here.”
Empathy replaced her misunderstanding. “Don’t worry about it. It’s on me.” She cast Jon a baleful glare. “I’ve had to put up with assholes, too.”
“You know what? You’re a peach.” I dug a ten-dollar bill out of my handbag. “Here. Take this. It’s not for the drink, it’s a tip. Thank you for putting up with me holding onto your table, and thank you for understanding.”
She took the money, nodding. “Thanks. I appreciate that.” She swished away, not even looking backward at Jon.
I, on the other hand, faced him squarely. “And that’s that. Thanks for nothing. Thanks for making me feel like an idiot, sitting here by myself. But mostly, thanks for reminding me that I don’t have to put up with shit like this. I’m Vivian fucking Rexland, and I deserve so much better than you.”
“Wait a second.” Jon snagged my arm. “Now hold on. If you’d shown this kind of spirit while you were waiting for me, maybe things would’ve been different.”
I opened my mouth to tell him to go fuck himself, and the asshole had the balls to pull me close and kiss me.
For a solid moment, I was stunned into paralysis, and then the rage flowed back with a vengeance. “Get the fuck off me.” My hands moved of their own accord, reaching blindly for the first thing my fingers could close around. The glass of water was about halfway full, and two limes floated on the top.
At least they did for a moment, before I tossed the contents of the goblet over the man in front of me. Then the limes rested in his hair, which was soaked and dripping.
At the table next to ours, the woman who’d been sitting with her boyfriend or husband or whoever the hell he was began to applaud, slow claps that cut through the stunned silence of the room.
I knew she was trying to be supportive, but I couldn’t stay there another minute. Scooping up my purse, I practically ran out of the bar and down the street to my car. Nausea and fury rose in my throat, choking me.
I’d kissed the fourth frog, but this one had felt more like a toad . . . one I would have loved to have smashed under my foot.
I was still almost shaking with outrage by the time I got back to Aunt Gail’s house. When I reached the front door, I found a scribbled note taped there:
Viv~I’m in my room on a conference call with a production office on the west coast. Might be a late one. If you’re still awake when I’m off, I’ll come in to hear about your date. –AG
I let my head fall back as I groaned. I’d been dying to get home to tell Aunt Gail all about what had happened tonight. I needed someone to be angry alongside me. I’d almost swung by Teddi’s apartment on the way home, just to vent to her, but the fact that she still hadn’t answered my text from earlier made me decide against stopping there.
Buster, curled up in his bed, lifted his head and wagged his tail as I came in, locking the door behind me.
“Buster, you know, every day a life with a dog instead of a man becomes more appealing. What do you say, boy? You think we could make a go of it?”
He cocked his sweet little head, looking at me curiously. I stopped to rub his tummy before walking through the house. It was too quiet; I could hear Aunt Gail’s muffled voice from her room, but otherwise, everything was still. I was too agitated to sit down and read or watch a movie, and more than that, I didn’t want to be alone.
Yet here I was.
Dropping my handbag on a chair, I headed to the back door. As much as I was still a little leery of creepy crawly snakes, I needed to get out, to feel the breeze against my heated face.
The evening air was blessedly cooler the closer I got to the lake. I stepped carefully, mindful of anything that might be hiding, slithering or creeping in the grass by the water. There wasn’t any suspicious movement or sound, so I relaxed, rolling my shoulders as I stared across the smooth black water, willing everything from the day to slide off me, like water on a duck’s feathers.
“Hey.”
The voice came from only a few feet away, but I’d been so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I jumped a mile, clapping my hand across my heart and giving out an embarrassing little screech. My pulse took off, running a mile a minute as adrenaline screamed through my blood. I heard a familiar chuckle coming from the direction of the adjoining backyard.
“Charlie. My God, you scared the shit out of me.” I squinted, trying to see him better; in the dark, he was little more than an outline sitting on the wrought iron bench on the edge of his yard. “What are you doing out here?”
“Grampy’s having a poker night with all of his old newspaper buddies. I decided to come sit here to stay out of the way.” He lifted up his hand, showing me the bottle of beer he held. “Care to join me? I’ll share.”
I hesitated a second. After the night I’d had, I wasn’t certain I was going to be very good company. Then again, it was Charlie. I knew I could relax and be myself with him. At this point, after our experiences with the turtle, the dogs and the snake, his expectations of me and my company had to be pretty low.
I picked my way across the lawn toward him, squinting down at the grass. “Thanks. I could use that just now.” When I reached Charlie, sinking gingerly onto the hard seat next to him, I took the bottle and chugged. The beer was tangy, with a heavy hop flavor, a hint of bitterness and something almost . . . citrusy. “Mmmm. What is this?” I held the bottle up, trying to read the label.
“It’s a blood orange IPA from a local brewery. I did some landscaping work for them, and they liked it, so they let me pick out a couple of six-packs.”
“I think I like it,” I decided. “Usually I don’t enjoy anything that’s really hoppy, you know? But this is good.” I took another sip. “Really good, actually.”
“Hey, you, no bogarting my beer.” Charlie took back the bottle. “So, what brings you out to the lake this late at night? Were you hoping to find your snake friend again? Or were you bat-watching?”
I snorted. “No. I just got back from a date, and I needed a little space. A little quiet.”
“Ah.” He tipped the bottle against his mouth, and I watched in fascination as his throat worked. A shadow of scruff covered his jaw and cheeks. For some reason, my fingers were itching to touch it and find out if his beard was soft and silky or coarse. I forced myself to look away and sat on my hand, just for good measure.
“Want to tell me about it?” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and then his tongue darted out to run over his lips, picking up the last few drops. I tracked the movements, staring at him shamelessly. “Vivian?”
“Hmmm?” I jerked my attention back to what he was saying. “What?”
“The date. Want to tell me about it?”
“Oh.” I leaned against the back of the bench, wincing when the cold iron touched my skin. “It wasn’t good. Not at all. Matter of fact, I’m going to come down on the side of it being bad.”
“Sorry.” He didn’t sound that sorry, and I frowned. “What did he do? Or what didn’t he do?”
“God, the list is endless.” I raised my eyes to the starry sky. “We’d never seen each other in person, so we were supposed to meet at a bar. I got there right on time, but he wasn’t there yet . . . or so I thought. After about forty-five minutes of me sitting at a table alone, twiddling my thumbs, he showed up, explained that he’d been there the whole time watching me and then told me that
from that observation, he knew that I wasn’t his type at all. Which, you know, fine. It happens. We all have preferences. As Aunt Gail says, that’s why there’s chocolate and vanilla, right? But I guess this guy wanted to let me down easy, in his own special way, because after he told me how I was wrong for him, he followed that up by offering to, um, do me anyway.”
“What?” Charlie sounded incredulous and a little angry, and I was gratified. I’d needed someone to be mad with me right now, and Charlie was the perfect candidate for my shared rage.
“Right?” I shook my head. “At first, I thought I’d misunderstood him, but no . . . he made it very clear. And when I turned down that offer, he got all pissy and told me I must have hang-ups. Me! Can you believe it? I express my preference not to have sex with a guy who’s made it clear he doesn’t like me, who sat and watched me squirm, thinking I’d been stood up, and there’s something wrong with me? Geez.”
“He sounds like an asshole to me.” Charlie handed me back the bottle. “Here. Finish it. You definitely need this more than I do.”
“Thanks.” I took another long swig. “I really do. I didn’t even get anything to eat, because I didn’t want to order any food before he got there, and once I realized what he’d done, I lost my appetite.”
“I’ve got leftover wings inside. Want me to grab them and bring them out?”
I shook my head, smiling a little. Charlie really was kind of a sweetie. “No, thanks. The beer is good. I’ll grab a protein bar when I go back inside, and I’ll be fine.” What I would really do was grab a handful of chocolate chips from the bag Aunt Gail kept in the pantry, but a protein bar sounded so much more sophisticated.
“If you change your mind, let me know.” Sighing, Charlie leaned back, too, extending his legs and crossing them at the ankle. “Well, I’m sorry about your date, but at least you found out about his assholery-ness early, before you got too invested.”
“Assholery-ness?” I finished the beer and set the bottle at my feet. “Did you just make that up?”
He shrugged. “If it’s not a word, it should be. The state of being an asshole. That works for me.”
“True. Do I have permission to use that in an article, if I cite you as my source?”
Charlie inclined his head. “You do.”
“Thanks.” We were both silent for a few minutes. I heard a splash as a fish leaped in the water. “It’s a pretty night, isn’t it?” Rubbing my hands over my bare arms, I shivered a little. “Cool, but pretty.”
“Sitting on this wrought iron makes you colder. It’s the damnedest most uncomfortable thing in the world, but my grandmother loved the idea of a bench like this by the water, so Grampy won’t let me replace it with something better.” He sat up a little, draping one arm along the back of the seat. “Here. Sit a little closer to me. You’ll be warmer.”
My mouth went dry. “Um . . . really?” Something had just shifted here. This was a date move, not a friendly-neighborhood-acquaintance-sharing-beer gesture. I wasn’t sure how to react.
But Charlie only cocked his head and waved me closer. “Sure. Sharing body heat is the most efficient way to regulate the temperature. And I promise, Vivian, I don’t bite.”
I managed a laugh. “I didn’t think you did.” Scooting over a little, I faced away from Charlie and leaned against his body, my spine resting against his broad chest. His arm came around me, circling my waist until his hand lay on my stomach. I was almost afraid to move, but he seemed relaxed, as though he sat like this with random women every day.
“Mmmm, your hair smells good. Like . . . the beach. Like coconut.” His breath tickled against my ear.
“It’s a spray I use. It’s . . . a seawater beach thing.” My heart was thudding against the wall of my chest, and I wondered if Charlie could feel it.
“I like it.” With the hand that wasn’t holding me, he brushed the curls off my neck and over my shoulder. “Although your hair is in my face and trying to strangle me.”
“Sorry.” I sounded breathless, and biting my lip, I willed myself to relax. “Sometimes my hair has a mind of its own.”
“It’s pretty.” His thumb stroked absently at my stomach over the silky material of the camisole top. My head was spinning: two personal compliments and lots of incidental touching set off all my warning bells . . . in the best way. This wasn’t a guy keeping me firmly in the friend zone. This was a guy who was broadcasting a strong signal that he wanted to be more than friends. I remembered all of our previous encounters, all of the times I’d thought—and hoped—that Charlie might have been leading to something more, something deeper, only to pull back.
But . . . this felt nice. It felt comfortable and right. He wasn’t pushing me or asking me for anything. We were just. . . here. Together. Sitting in the dark, sharing body heat and enjoying the evening. Slowly, I let myself relax into Charlie’s body. My head lolled to one side, and my eyes drifted shut. The effect of the beer on my empty stomach made me a little sleepy, and I might have actually dozed off if he hadn’t spoken again at that very moment.
“Vivian, would you like to go out with me?”
“What?” I probably would’ve sat straight upright if Charlie’s arm hadn’t been firmly around my middle.
“I asked if you want to go out with me. You know, on a date. It’s something people do.” He sounded tentative and yet . . . sure. Positive that this was what he wanted to do. Positive that I was going to say yes.
“I’m familiar with the concept.” I swallowed. “Although recently, most of my experience has been pretty poor.”
“That’s because you’ve been dating the wrong guys.” I felt him smile against my cheek. “I guarantee that you’ll have a good time with me.”
“Because you’re . . . the right guy?” Every nerve in my body had gone onto high alert, and the tingle that had begun in my middle had spread out to all my limbs.
“Damn right I am.” He spoke with quiet assuredness.
“How do you know?” I closed my eyes, waiting to hear his answer.
Charlie’s arms tightened around me, snugging me closer to him. “I know because we get along so well. I think you’re funny, smart and real. You don’t play games. You are who you are, and I like that.” He sighed, and the air he’d exhaled skimmed across my face. “When I wake up, I think, I wonder if I’ll see Vivian today? And if I do, instantly my day is better.” He paused for a moment. “We don’t know everything about each other, but I want the chance to change that. I want to find out what makes us alike and what makes us different.” His shoulder moved beneath my head. “I like you, Vivian. I’d like to take you out. I think I can be good for you, and if you let me try, I’ll do everything I can to treat you the way you deserve. That’s what makes me the right guy.”
As he spoke, a gladness welled up in me. Every one of his words resonated in my soul, which sounded incredibly corny and kind of lame, and yet . . . it was true. This was what I’d been waiting to hear. This was what I’d needed. There was only one answer I could give him.
“Okay.” I turned, shifting my head so that I could look up into his face. “Yes, Charlie. I’ll go out with you.”
“I KNEW IT!” TEDDI CROWED so loudly over the phone that I had to hold it away from my ear. “I knew Charlie was the one! I knew he was going to make his move!”
“You so did not.” I put the call on speaker and set the phone on my dresser so that we could talk while I figured out what I was going to wear on my date with Charlie tonight. “You told me to make my move. You told me to be bold and all that shit.”
“Well, yeah, I said that, but I was secretly convinced that he’d ask you out before you got around to it. I love you, Vivi, but you probably would’ve talked yourself out of it seven times before you worked up the nerve.”
I sighed. She was probably right.
“All right, oh wise one, now that you’ve completed the obligatory I-told-you-so dance, what am I going to wear on this date with Charlie?”
“Hmmm.” She was quiet for a few seconds. “He didn’t give you any clue about what you’re going to do?”
“He promised me we’d eat, and he said not to wear uncomfortable shoes. He also swore there would be no mountain climbing or any other kind of extreme sports. Oh, and he said if I was dressed all wrong when he came to pick me up, he’d let me know so that I’d be comfortable no matter what we did.”
“Awww, that’s sweet.” There was a little bit of noise on the other end of the line. “Sorry, I’m trying to get my yoga stretches in while we talk, and I dropped the phone. Umm, let’s see. Oh, how about that adorable black and white flirty skirt you bought when we were shopping a couple of weeks ago? It would look cute with dressy flat sandals, and it makes your legs look amazing.”
I found the skirt and held it up to me. “Oh, that would probably work. I haven’t worn it yet, so this might be just the special occasion I was waiting for. Should I pair it with a plain black cami? Or something dressier?”
“That cap sleeve top you had on the other day would be perfect with the skirt, and it made your boobs look really good. Try that.”
Stripping off my T-shirt and jeans, I pulled the shirt in question over my head and slid the skirt up my legs. “Oh, my God, Teddi, it’s so cute. You’re a genius.”
“Of course, I am. Take a picture right now so I can see, too.”
I took a quick full-length selfie and shot it over to her. “I don’t have shoes on yet, so don’t judge my legs.”
“Sweetie, you look fucking on fire! This guy stands no chance tonight. What time is he picking you up?”
I glanced at the clock readout on my phone screen. “In just about an hour.”
Teddi emitted a small shriek. “And you’re still talking to me? Get on with it, woman! Shower, shave, moisturize, makeup, blow dry and brush . . . and then sparkle and shine!”
Fifty Frogs (The Anti-Cinderella Chronicles Book 4) Page 15
