All That They Desire

by Zoe York

  His mouth fell open. “Oh.”

  “I mean, I kind of want to know more…” Heat swarmed across her chest. “But I think you meant that in a different way.”

  He groaned. “Yeah.”

  “Because threesomes are really like a third-date conversation.”

  He traded her hand for her neck, his fingers tracing the sensitive skin there. “I can’t tell if you’re kidding or not.”

  “At this point I’m just trying to hang on to a conversation that has taken a very different turn than I expected it to,” she whispered. “But I’m not kidding, I don’t think. I’ve been with someone who kept sexual desires from me. I don’t want to do that again.”

  “Then we’ll shelve that sharing conversation for two more dates,” he murmured. “Can I kiss you?”

  “Sure.” She swallowed hard as he closed the gap, his warm hand guiding her to him as he leaned in as well.

  His lips brushed against hers, soft and gentle. Nothing like their first kiss. This was a courting kind of kiss, one that promised more dates down the road.

  “You told me you weren’t a repeat kind of guy,” she said against his mouth.

  “I’m not usually. This is…different. Somehow.” He drew back and brushed a strand of hair off her cheek with his fingertips. “You’re different.”

  “You kissed Brent.”

  “I did.”

  She hesitated for a second. “I don’t know how I feel about that.”

  “I don’t think the chances are high he’ll want to do that again.”

  She laughed. “I immediately want to leap to his defence here.”

  “That’s okay. I see you, Jess. I see how much you love him. I’ll try this again. When I said I’ve shared before, I meant I don’t need a relationship to be monogamous—if you don’t want to be. One of my longest relationships in the past was a long-distance thing with a guy in Toronto. He wasn’t interested in relocating, and he had another partner there. They were both polyamorous, and I was fine with that. I’d never used that word myself, but it didn’t feel wrong. And after that, I used the same principles—consensual non-monogamy is a bigger mouthful for it—in most of my relationships. It’s freeing to know that dating someone doesn’t mean I have to be their everything.”

  “Do you ever get jealous?”

  He rocked his jaw from side to side, looking rueful. “Yeah. Not usually, not, but…I’ve been jealous in the last month. Being honest about that is important. But that’s my feeling to work through, not your problem. It’s a temporary spark. And on the other side of that, I’m always over it. Chemistry is a complicated thing, too. So I focus on what makes me feel good, without hurting people.”

  “Chemistry,” she whispered. Brent had said something about that.

  “I want who I want, and what I want, and it’s just that simple.”

  It didn’t sound that simple to Jess.

  But the part about not being someone’s everything sounded great. She loved Brent, she was sure of that now. But they weren’t always in synch. And if he were open to dating other people, maybe that could work.

  They could see each other, and other people at the same time.

  “Tacos,” she finally said. “Yeah. That sounds like a lot of fun.”

  15

  “What do you think of the new influencer campaign, Jessica?”

  Influencer campaigns are a waste of your freaking money. “It’ll be interesting to see the metrics,” she said out loud as she leaned in close to the mirror to carefully apply her eyeliner. “Have you run one before?”

  “This is the first one,” her client said over the speaker.

  She rolled her eyes at the phone because they couldn’t see her, and then smiled to put enthusiasm back into her voice. She was consulting with them on the pitch and messaging for a future campaign, not the implementation of their current one. And it put her in an awkward position to criticize another firm they were working with.

  What she needed was a way off this call. And she had a date to get to in a few minutes, too.

  A text message flashed at the top of her screen. Brent.

  “It’ll definitely be interesting to see how it plays out in the London market,” she said breezily, then realized she’d just called it interesting twice in a row. That was a red flag, but maybe they wouldn’t notice. “Listen, I’ve got another call to make now before my next meeting, but let’s check in again at the end of the week, okay?”

  “You’re a workhorse, Jess! Thanks for your help.”

  “Any time.” She tapped the end call button.

  In the past, she had been a workhorse. And she still worked late a lot of days. But right now, her next call was a text to her husband, and her meeting was a date with a friend she liked to kiss. Dating was a lot more fun than working, that was for sure.

  She checked her messages.

  Brent: What are you up to?

  Jess: Just got off a conference call.

  Jess: And getting ready for dinner.

  Brent: Where are you going?

  Jess: In search of tacos.

  Jess: With Evan.

  Brent: Ah.

  Oh man. She hit the call button. “Hey,” she said softly when he answered.

  “Hey.”

  It was good to hear his voice. “I’ve got a few minutes.”

  “Is he picking you up?”

  This was weird. Surreal. “Yeah.”

  “Is it a date?”

  She should have anticipated this feeling, the messy swell inside her. “Yeah.”

  “Okay.”

  She didn’t know what to say there. “Don’t guilt me for this.”

  He swore. “No. Jesus. I promise that’s not what I’m doing. I’m being awkward about it, I get that, but…have a good time. For real.”

  “What are you up to?”

  “I’m at work.” He paused. “I’m off in a couple of days. Can I come and visit?”

  “Sure. My calendar is wide open.” Except for tonight, but they both already knew that. “Let me know when you’re coming down, and I’ll find something fun for us to do.”

  After they ended the call, he texted her once more.

  Brent: I bet you look gorgeous. Send me a picture if you want.

  She finished putting on her makeup, then straightened her t-shirt over her boobs and snapped a quick shot.

  Jess: Just jeans and a t-shirt. Tacos aren’t fancy.

  Brent: I was right. You are gorgeous.

  She sent him back a tongue-sticking-out emoji. Then she turned off her phone.

  Evan arrived a few minutes later, dressed casually just like her. He gave her a long, appreciative up-and-down look before pulling her into his arms and kissing her hello.

  “I like the look of you in a t-shirt and jeans,” she said after he let her up for air.

  “Yeah?”

  She smoothed her hand over the front of his shirt. His heart thumped against her fingers, and a lovely warmth spread through her body. “Yes.”

  He took a deep breath. “Good. Noted.”

  She grabbed a cardigan in case it got colder as the day slid into night, then Evan escorted her to his car.

  On the drive, they talked business.

  “I’m enjoying the distance from some of my clients, I gotta admit,” she said. “I used to get sucked in to a lot of in-person meetings which chew up the day. Now I can hop on a video call or just talk on the phone. And if I do a video call, I only need to get dressed from the waist up.”

  Evan chuckled. “PJs on the bottom?”

  “PJs, yoga pants, little comfy shorts.”

  His eyebrow curved high on his face. “Oh?”

  She giggled. “Do you ever work from home?”

  “Sure. In the hours from five to seven, when nobody’s at the winery yet.”

  She groaned. “You’re a morning person.”

  “I’m a twenty-four-seven, whatever work demands of me person.”

  Twisting in her seat so she c
ould see his profile better, she leaned her temple against the leather headrest. “You’re so driven.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you like to talk about that?”

  He shrugged. “Sure.”

  “When did you know you wanted to open a winery?”

  He smiled a bit. “When I was in university. I was doing a business undergrad degree, and I came home…maybe it was reading week? And Ty wasn’t around. He’d gotten hired at a winery that was doing ice wine harvesting. He was sleeping there, ready to leap into harvesting action in the middle of the night. He was seventeen years old, and had found his passion in life. When he finally showed up at the end of the week, I saw a whole new person. He was a man, suddenly. He had a vision, a purpose, and I wanted to be a part of that with him.”

  “It’s a remarkable story.”

  “We had a lot of luck along the way. Taking over grape vines that had had a chance to mature, for example. We didn’t need to wait decades for the fruit. And Wardham—when I left, I thought I’d never come back. But every time I did, I saw another slice of potential.” He slid a glance her way. “You see it, too.”

  She nodded. “It’s a wonderful town.”

  “I want to do for Wardham what the Festival did for Stratford. I want Wardham to be the Niagara-on-the-Lake of Essex County.”

  “Why?”

  “Because a vibrant town is a better one for gay kids to grow up in.” He shrugged. “It’s just that simple to me. The more progressive, more successful I make my town, the better it will be for kids just like me. I grew up with a lot of economic fear, and not just in my own family. It pressed against me on all sides. People who are poor, people who can’t get ahead—they look for people to blame.”

  “They should look up the chain. To government, to businesses.”

  “Yeah. But they don’t. They look for the skinny kid in gym class and they beat him up to feel good.”

  Her heart ached for young Evan. “You were that kid?”

  “I didn’t always look like this. I didn’t always have money. I was the scapegoat growing up, yeah. The kid without a dad. And then I had a massive growth spurt right before high school, and boom, I was a football player. I clawed myself to the top of that heap, but I didn’t love any part of it. Evie was the only one who knew I planned to leave and never come back, that I was counting down the days to graduation.”

  “But then your brother discovered wine.”

  He laughed. “And I’d had a couple of years at university. I’d realized the whole world is like that. Doesn’t matter how big the city, there are still bullies looking to shit on people. I came out in university, but once I graduated, the workplace—back then, anyway—wasn’t as welcoming as campus. I dunno. I guess I had to leave to come back and fully appreciate what home was.”

  “That’s really something.” She touched his forearm, resting on the console between them. “Thanks for telling me all of that.”

  They both fell silent after that.

  Her hand stayed on his arm, and she traced the curve of his muscles until he had to reach forward and change gears.

  When they arrived at the restaurant, there was a line out the door.

  “Wow,” Jess said. “This place is popular.”

  “Good food wins every time.”

  “Best marketing plan is a good product,” she said.

  “You know it.”

  They got in line, which moved quickly, and she noticed a good number of people in line—maybe half—were Latino. Some obviously looked like seasonal workers, their skin dark from the outside work, but not all. A family ahead of them spoke Spanish, but their English wasn’t accented when they flipped back and forth.

  Maybe she’d known that this area had a big Spanish-speaking population, but she hadn’t been conscious of it.

  Evan pointed at the specials board. “They always have a couple of daily things, too.”

  The guy in front of them gave her a wide grin. “Everything is good,” he said in accented English.

  “You’ve been here before?” she asked.

  “Many times, yes.”

  “¿Qué me recomienda?” Evan asked, and Jess blinked in surprise. He winked at her. “It has been a while since I’ve been here. What’s good right now?”

  The regular named a few things in rapid-fire Spanish she didn’t get, to Evan, then slowed down for her. “You, lovely lady, you want the pupusas. They are the speciality, the best thing they cook.”

  “That’s what he said when he asked me out,” she said, gesturing at Evan. “That’s what I want.”

  Evan ordered for them, and they were given a number. While they waited, he loaded up their plastic trays with little containers of salsa—four different versions, all self-serve from buckets next to the cutlery and napkins.

  Then they found a table for two at the back, just before their number was called out.

  She dug right into the corn pancakes, filled with sausage and cheese, topped with a vinegar-y cabbage salad. “Oh my God.”

  “I know, right?”

  “These are addictive.”

  “We’ll come back, then.”

  “Definitely worth the drive. Mmm.” She licked her fingers, then dug back in for more. She didn’t come back up for air until she’d finished the first one. Pupusas were her new favourite thing. “So,” she said as she leaned back in her chair. “How much Spanish do you speak?”

  He grinned. “You noticed that.”

  She laughed. “Yes.”

  “Impressed?” His eyes danced.

  “Was that why you did it?”

  “Eighty percent trying to impress you, twenty percent trying to be a good citizen of the world. I’ve got a bunch of phrases that sound okay. Most of the time, I probably sound like a preschooler. We have a lot of seasonal workers who come up from Central America. Ty’s pretty fluent—he studied it at school—so he uses it on the job, and I try to as well. They’re valued members of our company, and we like to make an effort.”

  “And it impresses people when you bring them here.”

  He shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. You’re the first person I’ve brought here.”

  “No way.”

  “It’s true.”

  “So where do you usually take people on a first date?”

  He gave her a slow, innocent blink while the corners of his mouth looked like they were fighting back a grin.

  She leaned in. “Your bed?”

  “You said it, not me.”

  “Should I feel ripped off?”

  “We’ll get there eventually, if you want.” He smiled. “I’d like that. But I don’t know. Everything about this is different than how I usually date. I don’t like to mix business and pleasure, for one thing.”

  “And with me?”

  “I want to mix a lot of things.”

  Well, that was delightfully hot. Jess fanned herself as he laughed under his breath, then she pointed to his food. “Can I try some of yours?”

  “Of course.”

  The rest of their meal was food-focused, and by the time they deposited their trays in the drop-off spot and wandered back to Evan’s car, Jess was buzzing on happy feelings.

  “You look…satisfied,” Evan said as they stopped on the passenger side of his car. He opened the door for her, but he didn’t move, and she didn’t get in.

  “I am.”

  He leaned in and braced his forearm on the top of the car. “Can we do something when I get back?”

  He’d already warned her he was leaving the next day for a week-long work trip. She swayed toward him. “Absolutely.”

  He caught her with his free arm and held her close to his body. “I can’t wait.”

  Holy, hell. She nodded silently as he ducked his head and brushed his lips against hers.

  “More of that when I drop you off,” he murmured.

  Yeah.

  And then a cold shower, maybe.

  Whew.

  Halfway back to Wardham, Evan
rubbed his knuckles against her hand, resting against her lap. She held out her hand and he laced his fingers through hers.

  No matter what happened down the road, she would always have this memory, of sizzling attraction and sweet, pure fun, to remind her that she was attractive and date-able.

  Which of course she knew. But it’s one thing to know it in your head, and another to feel it in your heart.

  One real, honest-to-goodness date with Evan had done wonders to restore her confidence. As had the fake date, and all the is-he-flirting moments in between.

  He was good for her self-esteem, there was no doubt about that.

  Again, he only let go of her hand when he had to shift gears. And when he parked in front of her house, he got out and met her on her side of the car to walk her to the door.

  “That was a lot of fun,” she said after unlocking the door.

  He looked pleased with himself. “I told you it would be.”

  “You were right.” She rubbed her fingers over his t-shirt, enjoying the feel of his chest through the thin cotton. “Can I pick what we do on date number two?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Cool.”

  He leaned in and brushed his mouth over hers, then deepened the kiss when she parted her lips. Every kiss from Evan was a different thing, all of them amazing. When he pulled away, her lips were tingling and all of her nerve endings felt alive. “I should go.”

  “Early to bed for the world traveller?”

  “Yep.”

  She pushed up on her toes. “Okay.”

  He groaned as she kissed him this time. “Or I could come in for a minute.”

  “How about ten?”

  He groaned. “At least twenty.”

  They spent thirty minutes making out on her couch, and when he left it took another half-hour for her pulse to return to normal and the happy flush in her face to fade.

  16

  Two days later, Brent stood on Jess’s front step with a box of chocolates. He knocked twice. Seconds went by, then he heard footsteps, and he grinned. The door swung open and his wife danced into view wearing jean cutoff shorts and a tank top. “Oh!” She said. “You’re early.”