by Jade Webb
“Are you done yet?” he asks when my breath finally begins to even. But when another image of Lawrence wearing salmon-colored shorts and holding a lacrosse stick crosses my mind, I can’t contain my laughter. Only when I feel his hands grip my waist and tilt me over the side of the horse does my laughter stop, and I let out a shrill shriek.
“Okay! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Don’t drop me!” I beg.
When he places me back upright, I turn around and elbow him in his side. “You’re evil!”
His eyes crinkle at the corners as a wide smile stretches across his face. As much as I try to fight it, I can’t help but feel my breath hitch when I look into his emerald eyes. They’re stunning, and when he’s looking at you, it feels like you’re the center of the world.
“Truce?” he asks, his eyes still locked on mine. His words come out on a breath, and I convince myself that I can’t hear the need in his voice or see the heat in his stare. I nod before turning back around. Lawrence’s hands slowly slide down from my waist and come to rest at my hips. As we turn a corner, his hands grip my hips and he pulls me back. It’s then that I feel a hard bulge against my lower back, and a flush of heat rushes toward my cheeks and pools at my center. Oh my God. Does he have an erection right now?
And when Flopsy steps over a fallen tree on the path and I fall back against him again, I know he has an erection. From me? The thought instantly sends a shiver of electric heat straight to my core. Is he attracted to me?
Before I let any more questions pop into my head, I shut it down. You can’t afford to be asking these types of questions, Yael. So instead, I focus on my breathing, enjoying the beautiful forest around me and convincing myself that Lawrence Monroe is not someone I could ever fall for.
12
Lawrence
“Want to stop here, Dad?” Isabel asks as she points to a small clearing a few feet away.
I nod in agreement and continue to follow. She pauses her own pony and looks back at Yael, who has, miraculously, somehow fallen fast asleep on Flopsy. Her limp body rests against mine, her hands still resting on my thighs, her cheek pressed flat against my chest. She had fallen asleep about thirty minutes ago. I hadn’t realized it at first, not until I heard a small snore coming from her and saw her chest rising and falling with each breath. I didn’t have the heart to wake her, and I had greedily used the opportunity to study her more closely: taking in the pert curve of her nose, the soft contours of her dusky pink lips, and the faint, almost invisible, trail of freckles dotting the bridge of her nose. Everything about her was so…genuine. Even her words. She spoke without a filter, an enviable trait I was never brave enough to even attempt. She never cared to try to impress me, and even though she had been terrified of horses, she was here with us today. I knew she didn’t care about the thousand dollars: she was here because Isabel had asked her to come, and she couldn’t say no. Somehow in her two weeks here, Isabel had managed to wiggle her way into Yael’s heart. And as I find myself captivated by her sleeping in my arms, I know she’s started to worm her own way into mine.
“Are you going to wake her up?” Isabel asks as she stares up at me. I had been so lost in thought I hadn’t even helped Isabel dismount, not that it looks like she needed the help.
“Go set up and I’ll wake Yael up.”
Isabel nods and I take one last look down at Yael before I lightly drag my thumb down her cheek. She stirs, and I softly whisper her name.
Her eyes flutter open and as she awakens, she pulls her face off my chest. She looks up at me, a soft pink flush to her cheeks.
“Where are we?”
“We’re going to stop for a quick picnic lunch,” I tell her.
Yael’s eyes widen as she pushes herself up and looks around. “Did I fall asleep?”
“Passed right out,” I confirm for her.
She looks at me disbelievingly and sucks in her lower lip. “Sorry for using you as my pillow.”
“Any time,” I quickly say, drawing a surprised look to her face. Shit, you sound like such a creep. “Anyways, let me help you down,” I offer as I drop the reigns and push away, instantly missing the heat of her body against mine.
“You need to dismount first,” I tell her. “Just hook your foot into the stirrup and swing your leg over. Flopsy won’t move.”
She tentatively follows my instructions and beams up at me with a victorious smile when her feet hit the ground. After I dismount, I tie Flopsy to a nearby tree. I gesture with my chin toward Isabel setting up the picnic and as we walk toward her, Yael stretches her arms over her head, revealing a sliver of smooth, olive skin above her low-slung jeans, and the movement has me hard all over again. Being so close to her, with her back pressed against me, had been enough to have me uncomfortably stiff throughout the entire ride. And though I had tried to get rid of it, think of anything but Yael pressed against me, I had failed miserably. There was no way she hadn’t felt it, but a part of me felt excited that she had. While I didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable, I liked that she would know how much she affected me. And I only hoped that I affected her the same way.
“Yael! How did you like the horse?” Isabel asks as she sees us approach.
Yael smiles. “It wasn’t as terrible as I had imagined.”
“Because my dad was there to protect you?” Isabel asks, an innocent smile on her face poorly disguising her obvious motives.
I glower down at my daughter and her pointed question, but she artfully manages to avoid my stare.
“Isabel, why don’t you finish setting up?” I ask, my tone telling her that I’m not messing around. Unfazed, Isabel turns back to finish setting up the picnic, a triumphant smile on her face.
Yael follows her and drops down on the blanket. Taking the seat beside her, I help Isabel unwrap the trio of sandwiches. We each grab one, eating our meal in an uncomfortable silence.
“Yael,” Isabel says, breaking the silence. “What are you going to do after you’re done working here with me and Dad?”
Again, I narrow my eyes at my daughter, as I force myself to remember that I love her and I probably shouldn’t throttle her. But she’s ignoring me, her eyes intently watching Yael. And while a part of me wants to kill my adorable, precocious little daughter, I can’t help but admit that I’m equally eager to hear Yael’s answer for myself.
“Oh,” Yael says uncomfortably as she shoots me a quick look under her thick lashes. “I’m not sure, actually.”
“Are you going to go work for Aunt Daphni?” Isabel presses.
Yael sucks in her lower lip as she toys with the half-eaten sandwich in her hand. “I don’t know yet.”
Isabel inspects her, her blue eyes sweeping over her. “You don’t really want to work for Daphni, do you?”
While I’m caught off guard by Isabel’s question, I’m even more surprised by the look on Yael’s face. She looks surprised, but also a bit…relieved. Yael smiles affectionately at Isabel and plucks a blonde curl from her face. “Has anyone told you that you’re too smart for your own good?”
Isabel beams from the compliment, but I still feel confused. She didn’t answer the question. And as Yael changes the subject and talks with Isabel about her pony, I can’t help but feel a bit frustrated. Did Yael not want to work for Daphni? What does she want? And more confusingly, why does knowing what she wants feel so important to me?
13
Lawrence
The ding of a new email catches my attention, and I move my cursor to click on it.
I took the liberty of picking up some flowers for you to give to your date tonight. I’ll leave them on my desk and you can pick them up on your way out.
P.S: Good luck!
I restrain myself from rolling my eyes as I read through Leila’s email. I hope to God this evening doesn’t end in a disaster. My last blind date a few months ago had snuck off to the bathroom every ten minutes and it was only after she came back for the eighth time, her nose dripping with blood and white powder coating her upper lip, that I fina
lly asked everyone to stop setting me up on blind dates.
But after seeing Isabel and Yael together these past few weeks, I had realized there was a small part of me that wanted someone to spend my days with, to be a mother figure for Isabel. And while yes, there was a small part of me that wanted that woman to be Yael, it was obvious she had her own plans. And though her not-so-subtle, under-the-breath snarky remarks and eye rolling had significantly decreased, I’m still not entirely convinced that she doesn’t think I’m a completely incompetent idiot. And I didn’t help my case much when I set off the fire alarms trying to cook dinner last night in a piss-poor attempt to impress her.
And why exactly do you want to impress her?
Shit, I am not going down that train of thought again. Since Yael moved in, not a single day goes by that I don’t think of her. No matter how hard I try, I can’t get her out of my head.
Which is how I landed here, with my assistant, Leila, setting me up with a girl she has been begging for me to meet for over a year now. And because I was desperate to get my incredibly gorgeous pseudo-nanny out of my head, I had finally relented and had agreed to a date. For tonight.
And as much as I try to muster excitement for this date, I just can’t. I try to convince myself it’s not because the woman I’m supposed to be meeting is not Yael, but it’s bullshit. Because ever since she’s moved in, something has changed. And it’s not just the carefree smiles Isabel wears whenever I see her, it’s something more. It’s a renewed spark of hope that Isabel and I could have a life with someone else in it; that our little world could expand to include someone new. And it’s this insanity that led me to agree to this date tonight in the first place.
But I can’t back out now. Leila would murder me, and she’s too good of an assistant to lose.
I close out of the email and for the next few hours I focus on finishing up some of my lingering projects. When it hits six, I decide to head out and call it a day. True to her word, a very expensive-looking bouquet sits at the corner of Leila’s desk. Grabbing the flowers, I head to the elevator and down to the garage.
Once in my car, I dial the house line and instantly perk up when I hear the recognizable voice answer the call and project through my car speaker.
“Hello?” Yael answers.
“Yael, hi. How are you?”
“Oh, good,” she answers, and I convince myself I can hear her smile. Idiot.
“I’m about to start dinner with Isabel,” she continues. “Hold on, let me put you on speaker.”
“Anything good?”
“We’re making calzones!” I hear Isabel scream on the phone, eliciting a laugh from Yael.
“Yes, we are making calzones. Will you be home soon?” she asks, and I feel an inexplicable tug when she asks that question. It sounds so domestic and comforting.
“Eh, not exactly. I have a…thing tonight,” I say, already feeling a prickle of guilt as the lie spills out. There’s a reason I’ve kept my dating life separate from my home life. No woman has lasted long enough for me to even consider introducing her to Isabel. And I don’t have too much faith that will change with tonight’s date, either.
“Oh,” Yael says, a hint of disappointment in her voice.
“I wish I could get out of it,” I say, unsure of how to fill the uncomfortable silence.
“Dad, you’re missing calzones?”
“I know, kiddo. I’m sorry. Can you make an extra one for me?”
“Sure,” she answers, dejected.
“Isabel—”
“It’s okay, Dad. We’ll just see you later, I guess. Love you,” she says before the line disconnects and I’m surrounded by silence in my car.
Feeling even shittier, I make my way through the congested streets until I find the restaurant where I’m supposed to be meeting my blind date, Muffy. Despite the ridiculous name, she was apparently the daughter of one of Leila’s old coworkers and “a very nice girl.”
I valet the car and head inside, almost forgetting the bouquet. I feel like an idiot carrying it into the restaurant, but with her superhero deductive skills, Leila will easily know if I didn’t bring them, and it’s not worth fighting her. She’s already raised three boys as a single mother, and I know better than to go up against her.
As I walk into the restaurant, a woman with platinum blonde hair and wearing a skintight red dress and matching red heels instantly perks up in her seat at the bar. She picks up her pink drink and walks quickly toward me, her heels clicking loudly on the tiled floor.
“Lawrence?” she asks when she reaches me. Her voice is bubbly and high-pitched, and not-so-surprisingly matches her name quite well.
I force a smile to my lips. “Yes, and you must be Muffy?”
Her smile widens as she enthusiastically nods her head. Her bright blue eyes twinkle with excitement, and I feel a spark of envy at the amount of energy she has inside of her right now. If only I could muster a tenth of that for this date tonight. Because just one look at Miss Muffy and I know there’s no way we’re compatible. The bleached hair, plastic nails, and over-the-top enthusiasm are just not doing it for me. And if I’m being honest, poor Muffy never even had a shot. Because all I seem to want lately is a woman who can’t be bothered to brush out her unruly curls, who wears ripped jeans, and who tells me I’m an idiot when I try to microwave something with tinfoil on it. Because when I compare any woman to Yael, it’s impossible for them to measure up. And unfortunately, it took less than sixty seconds of being on this joke of a date for me to realize that. Shit.
Handing Muffy the flowers, I gesture toward the maître d’. “Should we go to our table?”
This question earns me another enthusiastic smile and nod and she slides past me, purposefully grazing her ass against my crotch. And while in the past, this might have been enough to get me into bed for the night, now it just feels cheap and exhausting.
We follow the waitress as she seats us at our table and hands us both our menus. I push in Muffy’s chair as she sits, and she rewards me with another wide, enthusiastic smile. I’m willing to bet anything this girl was a cheerleader.
Once I’m seated, Muffy immediately begins to talk. I try my best to focus, but I’m too distracted. This is literally the last place I want to be, and I can’t help but imagine Isabel and Yael at home, in the kitchen, cooking dinner as they laugh and joke together, Yael counting out different punches that Isabel enthusiastically follows. And here I am, on a date with a woman I have no interest in, stuck at a restaurant I have no desire to be in and annoyed that I ever could have thought this was a good idea.
“So, I’ve heard that you’re a businessman. A very important businessman,” Muffy says. I pull myself out of my head to focus on her as she flutters her eyelashes and purses together her bright red lips. I can only surmise that the look is supposed to be seductive. It falls flat.
“Uh, yes,” I answer as I rub my finger on my aching temple. Something about the high pitch of Muffy’s voice seems to be bringing on a nasty headache. Her voice is like one of those supersonic dog whistles. “I work in my family’s business.”
“Oooh,” she coos, drawing out each “O” for at least thirty seconds too long. “That sounds so fascinating.”
Does it?
“And what do you do, Muffy?” I ask as my eyes scan the room, hoping the waiter will come shortly to get our drink orders. If I have to stick this dinner out, I might as well have a bourbon.
Muffy perks up and smiles at me, her white teeth in blinding contrast to her bright red lipstick. “I’m a model.”
Of course.
“Where have you modeled?” I ask, continuing to do my best to look interested while I skim my eyes down the menu trying to decide which meal choice will have me out of here the quickest.
“Oh, well nothing yet,” she answers quickly. “But, I have high hopes for this upcoming fashion season. I’ve been working on my walk. Oh! And I have almost eighteen thousand followers on Instagram.” She flips her hear and off
ers me an overly enthusiastic smile. “I’m kind of a big deal online.”
“Mhhm,” I respond noncommittally as my eyes dart around the room, looking for the closest waiter to take our order.
I feel her hand graze mine and look up to see her staring intently at me, her blue eyes locking in on me as one bright red fingernail strokes my hand. “You know, I can show you my private portfolio, if you’re interested,” she says, her voice dropping a few octaves.
“That sounds…great,” I force out. “But maybe another time.”
She pulls her hand away and I catch a flicker of disappointment in her eyes. Still, she hasn’t conceded defeat yet, and she pastes back her bright smile as she leans forward, trailing her fingers down my bicep. “You are like, really sexy. Do you work out a lot?”
I swallow back an annoyed sigh. “I do. Most mornings.”
She arches her perfectly manicured brows and smiles at me. “I bet you have a nice six-pack, don’t you? I would love to see it.”
Really, Leila? “Nice girl?”
Now, I have no problem with a woman who knows what she wants, but wasn’t it glaringly obvious that I was not interested? Not that it mattered. It was obvious from the way her eyes lit up when she saw my Rolex what Muffy was after.
Muffy looks unsettled at my silence and shifts uncomfortably in her seat. Forcing her smile back to her face, she tries again. She does gain some points for perseverance. “So, Leila tells me you have a daughter?” she asks.
And points for ingenuity. Because Isabel is my weak spot, and I will take any opportunity to rant and rave about my girl. “I do. Ten years old.”
“Oooh,” she drawls. “I positively, absolutely adore children. They are just so…cute!”
“Well, if you ever called Isabel ‘cute,’ she might karate chop you,” I say with a smirk, as the image of the expression on Isabel’s face after being called “cute” by a woman like Muffy pops into my head.
