by Shay Savage
“Not shallow,” I mumble, “overly emotional.”
The conversation about family had nearly pushed me over the edge. I’m not usually one to cry in front of other people. I rarely even did it in front of my aunt. Somehow, the intense emotion had transformed itself from sorrow to lust. As I think about it, my face heats up.
“So embarrassing!”
Is that why he left? Was I so pathetically needy that I drove him away? What if he doesn’t want to see me again?
“But he wanted it, too.”
I remember the feeling of his hard cock pressed between my legs, and I shudder. Was my mind exaggerating how big it felt against me? My clit is throbbing at the thought, and I forget about the dishes and race to the bedroom and grab the little vibrator from the nightstand drawer. It takes less than a minute for me to moan Nate’s name in ecstasy.
I lie back against my pillow, still panting as well as feeling a little mortified about my eagerness. I’ve gone from not dating anyone seriously in a long time to being completely and totally infatuated with this man I hardly know—a man with some mystery surrounding him as well.
Vague family business, a murdered brother, obviously insane amounts of money if that car is any indication, and a perfectly charming, handsome, available man. That doesn’t really make sense, does it? He’s got way too much going for him to be picking up women in bars. Something about it doesn’t feel right.
Though I’m tired, my mind is racing too much for me to sleep, so I head back to the kitchen to clean up while I wonder about his previous relationships. He said he didn’t date much and confessed to never having had a bad date, but can that really be true? If his past dates weren’t bad, why did the relationships end? What about those girls hanging on him at the club? I should have asked him about them.
“You’re being paranoid. He’s been nothing but kind, and you’re trying to find something wrong with him. After I broke things off with her friend’s son, Aunt Ginny said I was just looking for excuses.”
It’s true. I know it is. It’s the same thing I’ve done since my relationship with Justin ended so abruptly. All my initial time is spent ignoring the obvious red flags in the name of kindness, and then when the warning signs don’t put me off, I look for faults so I don’t get too close.
“I came here to make some life changes, Vee,” I say. “I’m going to have to start with changing my attitude. Did you hear him? He said he’d help me with my search for my parents! Isn’t that awesome?”
A thought hits me, and my stomach sinks.
Is that why he left? Did he think I wanted to trade sexual favors for his help? Did I basically offer to prostitute myself, and the idea pissed him off? What if he won’t help me now because I threw myself at him like a horny schoolgirl?
“He wasn’t pissed off,” I say aloud. “He kissed me first, and he was hard as a rock. You can’t fake that.”
Despite my recent orgasm, I shiver at the memory of his long, hard erection pressed between my legs, and my breath quickens. I close my eyes for a moment and lick my lips. I can still taste him there.
As I’m washing the wine glasses, my phone dings.
Nate O: Thank you for the wonderful sandwich, Cherry. You kept a dying man from starvation.
I snicker.
You’re welcome. I’m sorry dinner wasn’t what you hoped for.
Nate O: I’m so sorry about the restaurant. I really wanted you to have a good time tonight.
Did he think I didn’t enjoy myself? Despite all the problems in the beginning, I thought the rest of the night had gone great. Well, aside from my emotional outburst.
I did have a good time.
Nate O: I’m glad to hear you say that. So did I. Now I’m sitting in my car, in the garage, wishing I had stayed with you.
My heart pounds as I read his words.
I wish you had, too.
I hit send too quickly and then wonder if I should have said that at all. Yes, I had wanted him to stay. First date or not, I was ready to give myself to him, and I was disappointed when he stopped.
“Don’t play games,” I whisper to myself. “Tell him how you feel.”
Nate beats me to the punch.
Nate O: I’m very, very tempted to drive back over there right now, but I’m not going to let myself do that. Can I see you again tomorrow?
I glance at the clock, and it’s after midnight.
Tomorrow or later today?
Nate O: Later today, technically. After you’ve gotten some sleep. Breakfast, maybe? I definitely owe you a meal.
I bite down on my lip, staring at the screen as I try to decide how to respond. I go with simple and direct.
I’d like that.
Nate O: I’m glad to hear it. I’ll come by around 10, if that’s all right.
I immediately set an alarm so I’ll have time to get up and shower, then answer.
That sounds great! I’ll see you then.
Nate O: Glorious! Until then, sleep well, Cherry.
Gnight Nate
I finish cleaning up, convinced I’ll never be able to fall asleep. Apparently, the night had taken enough of an emotional toll on me to counter my nervous excitement about seeing him again so soon, and I drop right off. I sleep soundly and dreamlessly until the alarm goes off.
True to his word, Nate knocks on my door precisely at ten o’clock, paper bags in hand.
“Good morning,” he says quietly. He grins at me, and I smile back.
“Good morning to you, too!”
I step back and let him in. Nate immediately places the bags on the kitchen table and turns to me. I’m not sure what I should do now. I want to kiss him, but that seems too forward, and I was already so over the top last night. Should I hug him? I can’t decide and end up just standing there as Nate looks at me for a long moment, then makes his own decision.
He takes a step forward, reaches out, and grabs the back of my head. He pulls me toward him, kissing me hard.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all morning,” he says breathlessly.
I smile, feeling my face heat up as I look away. Nate moves his hand to my chin and turns me to face him.
“Are you being shy now?” he asks. “You weren’t shy last night.”
“No, I wasn’t. I, um, I’m sorry about being so forward. I shouldn’t have…” I don’t know what else to say.
“Whoa, Cherry! You don’t have anything to apologize for. It was rather unexpected, but believe me, I wanted it. I would have stayed, but…”
It’s his turn to run out of words. I wish he would finish the sentence, but he just looks into my eyes instead. I feel my face heat up even more as Nate runs this thumb over my cheekbone. He leans in and gently presses his lips to mine once more before releasing me and turning toward the bags. He tears open the tops and pulls out two silver trays with dome covers.
“I hope you like pancakes,” he says. “I made them myself.”
His face is covered with a sly grin as he pushes one of the containers in front of me and removes the lid. Inside is a stack of heart shaped pancakes, still steaming.
“What is all this?” I ask, glancing up at him. Though I’m impressed that he’s managed to keep everything warm on his trip over here, I have no idea how to take this gesture.
“It’s your own fault for mentioning that yesterday was Friday the thirteenth,” he says. “I realized that made today the fourteenth—February fourteenth.”
“It’s Valentine’s Day?”
“It is.”
I freeze. I don’t know how I am supposed to respond to this. The pancakes are simple enough—not an overblown gesture—but also so thoughtful. I hadn’t even thought about today being a holiday, and clearly, I have nothing to give him in return.
“Th-thank you, Nate.” I stutter embarrassingly. “That’s really sweet.”
“It’s the syrup that’s sweet,” he says as he pulls a small glass bottle labeled Rosa’s Pure Maple Syrup from the bag and opens the top. “Just sm
ell it.”
I hold the bottle, noting the “Made right here in Ohio” label, and take a sniff.
“Amazing, isn’t it?”
“Wow! It smells fantastic!”
“Tastes even better,” Nate says, taking the bottle back. “I’ve never actually made pancakes before, so even if they’re awful, the syrup will make up for it.”
“You really made these yourself?”
“Mmhmm.” Nate glances at me out of the corner of his eye, lopsided grin in place. “I admit I had help, but I mixed up the batter and poured the heart shapes. I won’t mention the first twenty pancakes that ended up looking more like anatomical hearts, complete with random arteries and veins sticking out.”
“Not so appetizing,” I say with a laugh.
“Not at all.” Nate grins. “I’m also not going to mention the ones I burned.”
“I hope they aren’t all going to waste!” I laugh.
“I’m pretty sure Antony is eating them right now.” Nate chuckles and then looks at me earnestly. “I hope you like them.”
“I’m sure I will.”
We sit at my little kitchen table, and Nate carefully pours the maple syrup over my pancakes. I take a bite, chewing slowly as the sweet syrup coats my mouth.
“These are incredible!” I take another bite.
“I’m glad you like them.” Nate sits up a little taller, a self-satisfied grin plastered on his face. “I mean, I did taste-test them, of course, but the look on your face says it all.”
“Mmm!” I close my eyes as I shove another mouthful between my lips.
Nate’s eyes darken slightly as he watches me, and I feel my cheeks redden. His tongue darts out across his lips for a moment before he turns to his own stack of pancakes.
“I’m sorry I didn’t realize what day it was.” I stare down at my nearly empty plate, not quite able to meet his eyes. “This was so thoughtful, and I haven’t done anything for you.”
“Gifts should never be given with the thought of reciprocation.” Nate reaches over, his fingers lightly stroking my knuckles. He removes them quickly, but I can still feel his touch.
“I suppose that’s true.” I glance at him shyly. “Still, I’ll have to figure out a way to make it up to you.”
“You already made me dinner,” Nate reminded me.
“PB and J hardly counts.” I scoff. “That didn’t even require any cooking.”
“You saved dinner.” Nate shrugs as he finishes the last of his pancakes. “I was going to lose my mind if I stayed at the restaurant any longer.” Nate cringes and looks away, his eyes darkening.
“You were rather upset.”
“Yeah.” He takes a deep breath and looks up at me, his eyes earnest. “I’m so sorry about that. I’ll admit to having a personality flaw there.”
“Personality flaw?”
“I don’t like it when things don’t go my way. It was…important to me that you have a good time, and I thought it was ruined. Then I realized my own attitude was likely ruining it for you far more than poor service, so I was angry with myself. I figured you would never want to go out with me again.”
“None of that was your fault.”
“Maybe not, but I did choose the place. In Cascade Falls, I’m used to people bending over backward when it comes to my family, and I wasn’t getting what I wanted.” He lets out a long sigh and then smirks at me. “I think what I’m trying to say is that I’m a spoiled brat at times.”
I’m not sure how I feel about Nate’s confession. It does make him sound like a bratty child, but it’s also good to know he recognizes it as a flaw. That’s a rare quality in anyone. I look at him for a long moment as I wonder what kind of company his family has that makes them so powerful in this town—at least in half of it—and why he’s so vague about what his family does. I contemplate a moment and then decide now is as good a time as any to ask.
“What is your family business, Nate?”
“Real estate,” he says quickly. “That’s the bulk of it, anyway.”
“Which includes maple syrup and a nightclub?”
“Once you amass a certain amount of capital, you find yourself getting into other business ventures.” Nate sits back in the chair a little, looking at me carefully before he speaks again. “The maple syrup plant came from my mother’s family originally. The casino was initially a rental property, but we bought it out when Andrea’s husband passed. The club is the newest expansion for my family, and I’m happy to take the credit for the idea, at the very least. Micha had a big hand in working it out though. So did Antony and Jude.”
“The bartender? Another cousin?”
“Yes, of course.” Nate chuckles softly. “Most of the people who work for the family are related in some way or another—by blood or marriage. The Thrace twins would be the main exception to that rule.”
“How did they start working for you?”
“That’s a long story, and I do have to get to work at some point today,” Nate says. “Remind me later, and I’ll tell you all about it.” He looks at me intently for a moment. “Better yet, if you join me for our family dinner on Wednesday, you could ask them yourself.”
“I’m not sure about that,” I say quietly, looking away.
“Do they frighten you already?”
“Intimidate, mostly.” I glance up as Nate reaches over and places his finger under my chin. “I mean, how big of a table do you have to fit all those people?”
“The dining room seats fourteen,” he replies. He strokes my jaw with his fingers as he looks into my eyes.
I swallow hard, seriously considering agreeing to anything and everything he might want, but when I try to imagine more than a dozen people sitting at the same table, my stomach knots up.
“Fourteen is a lot,” I say quietly. “Our dining room table sat six, but I don’t think we ever had more than four people there at once.”
“Our table isn’t often full,” Nate says. “Please don’t feel intimidated. We’re really a pretty laid-back bunch when it comes to family dinner. It might look a little formal, but it isn’t.”
“Formal?” My stomach drops as I try to figure out if I own anything to wear to a formal dinner.
“Just in the place setting,” Nate clarifies. “No one dresses up for it, not anymore. Back in the day, I understand it was quite an affair, but now the household is run by us millennials, and we don’t give a shit about such things.”
I snicker, and Nate smiles as he strokes my chin once more before dropping his hand. He collects our empty trays and their domes, placing them back in the bags.
“The remaining syrup is a gift for you,” he says. He screws the lid of the little glass bottle on tight before placing it in the refrigerator. “No Eastsider’s home should be without some Rosa’s syrup in the fridge.”
He’s given me the perfect opportunity, and I can’t let it slide.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you about that,” I say. “What is with the whole rivalry regarding cardinal directions in this town?”
“You really do want the long, drawn-out stories, don’t you?” Nate laughs. “The very short version is that a business rivalry between my family and the Ramsay family caused a lot of turmoil back in the sixties, primarily over real estate development. My grandfather, also named Nataniele Orso, along with Kelvin Ramsay agreed to split the town in half to stop from constantly getting in each other’s way. As the lines were drawn up, a lot of people in town took it to heart. People started moving from west to east and east to west, depending on whose business practices they preferred. Since then, people stick to one side or the other.”
“That’s it?” I narrow my eyes. It’s too simple an explanation to account for all the discord I’ve witnessed in my short time here, and I’m sure he’s leaving out something important.
“I did say that was the short version.”
“So why do people bend over backward for your family?”
“Chances are, I’m their landlord.”
Nate chuckles. “My family owns most of the commercial property on the east side of town.”
“So, what would you do? Raise their rent for being late with the appetizer?” I sound much testier than I intend, but this whole mindset bothers me, and I’m sure there is a lot more to the story. It seems to be exactly the kind of rich people’s attitude Aunt Ginny always warned me about.
“That would go against the lease,” he says. He tries to smile, but when he looks at me, the smile falters. “I suppose they think I might. I wouldn’t do that—it’s not a good business practice. I make money when the businesses in the buildings make money.”
I start twisting my fingers together nervously, not sure how I should respond.
“I’ve upset you,” Nate says quietly.
“It’s not that. It’s just…” I don’t know how to finish the sentence. That kindness curse strikes, and I can’t come right out and tell him I think he’s lying. I have no proof of that. “I’m not used to being around someone with so much…control over other people.”
Nate hesitates before answering.
“Sometimes, a landlord has to be a bastard,” he says. “Sometimes, a tenant deserves it. That said, you have a landlord—”
“Someone in your family, apparently,” I interrupt.
“In my family, yes, but Reid owns his own rental properties. They aren’t part of Orso Unlimited Properties. Anyway, Reid is your landlord, but it’s not like he has any real control over your actions. You always have choices. If you decided, for instance, that you didn’t want to live here for the duration of your lease, you could leave whenever you wanted to. He also couldn’t have you removed from the apartment without cause. That’s why you have a contract with him. Commercial properties under the Orso family business have similar contracts though their terms are quite a bit more complicated.”
“So, I could break my lease, pick up and move to the west side, and you’d be okay with that?”
Nate’s eyes darken, and I’ve clearly hit a nerve.
“There’s more to it, isn’t there?”
“You’re perceptive,” he says quietly. “And to answer your question, no. I would not be okay with that. Not at all.”
