by Autumn, Kyle
He knows me better than this though, so I wait for it…
“Spill it,” he says. “What’s the actual plan?”
I grin at him. “Well, she told her boss that she’d see him tomorrow.”
“So you know when she works next. What are you going to do? Stalk her at work?” he questions with wide eyes. “Even that seems a little extreme for you.”
“Of course I’m not going to stalk her at work,” I answer, still smiling. My plan will work, and I know it.
“Then I don’t get what you’re going to do,” he says, his hands out at his sides.
“Where to, Mr. Masters?” Jay says from the driver’s seat.
“Back to the office,” I tell him. “Where I’ll insist you call me Chaz. For the millionth time.”
I give him shit for it even though I know he won’t do it. He’s too professional for that. But we both smile every time we have this exchange.
“On it, sir,” he says, and then he drives us that way.
“Chaz, seriously,” Blake says, recapturing my attention by snapping his fingers near my face. “What the fuck, man? You trust this woman?”
After a moment, I say, “You know what? I do. I offended her, but I think she has more integrity than that. And her boss said that she’s one of their best employees. Maybe it’s naïve, but I think I’m going to let this go.”
“Completely? Because that’s not like you.”
“Of course not,” I laugh. “Not completely at all. Just for now.”
Because that woman. Holy hell. She’s a spitfire. And she has honor, respect for her commitments. She’s the kind of woman who’d keep me on my toes. I can feel it in my bones. And I think I know just how to make that happen. It’ll take some time, but I have a feeling it’ll be worth it.
I really did fuck up. I still can’t believe I let my past experience take over like that with her. I can’t believe I treated her like that. But, in my defense, all the other girls I’ve been with have allowed me to say and do those things. They’ve even enjoyed it. How was I to know she wouldn’t?
Being a decent human being who lives in the real world is how I would have known. I’m too busy running a successful international company, barely getting full nights of sleep, and living my life in the spotlight with women totally opposite of her to realize these things. So I’ll work on that. Because, if my plan works out, she’ll want me to be that better guy. Push me to be that better guy. And I think I’d do it for someone who’d make me want to be that better guy too.
“Hey!” Blake snaps his fingers again, which rips me from my thoughts. “You’re getting in your head. Don’t get too ahead of yourself here. I can practically hear the wedding bells coming from your head. Shut that shit down. That’s not what I meant.”
“What did you mean, then? I’m supposed to turn into a family man,” I say as Jay turns the town car toward our office building.
“I meant you had to look like a family man,” Blake explains. “No one was saying you needed to jump head first into marriage with the first woman you came across. You just have to show the public that you’re turning over a new leaf. Which you did a poor job of doing by telling her where to be and when. That’s the same old you, Chaz.”
“For fuck’s sake. I get that,” I insist, turning to gaze out the window. “But I think it might be different with her. I don’t think I can fake a relationship so the board is happy with how I look to the public. It’s gonna have to be real, and I think it can be with her.”
But my best friend laughs at me. “You can’t be serious. You fucked up any possible chance you had with her. Did you not hear her turn you down? For the second time?” He chuckles again. “I think I have a better shot with her at this point and she barely gave me two seconds of her time.”
“Don’t even think about it,” I seethe at him.
“Whoa.” He throws his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t say I was going to. But, dude. She was right about you. You’re a caveman.” His grin is ridiculous.
And it brings about one of my own. Which breaks that bit of tension the car was filled with for a moment.
“Look,” he says. “I didn’t mean you needed to marry someone to look like you’re settling down. If you want to get married, you know I’ll be there.” He adjusts his position in the seat next to me to face me more. “But you met this woman this afternoon and really, truly botched it. Whatever your plan is, it better include flowers and candy or some shit women like. Normal, real women. Not the replaceable, interchangeable Barbie dolls you’ve been parading around with.”
“Like you have any room to talk, man,” I throw back at him.
He laughs a little at that. “Yeah, I know, but I’m not the face of the company, am I? I can do what I want. And I most certainly do.”
Hearing that come out of Blake’s mouth makes me realize what I’ve been up to lately. It sounds disgusting now that I think about it. Being with a different girl all the time, never able to develop anything serious because it’s on to the next before the current one can get attached. And I can’t blame the board at all for not wanting that kind of behavior to represent the company. But Blake’s a grown man. He can make his own choices.
Just like I can make mine.
And I think I’m choosing her.
Once we’ve returned to the building, we both head up to the top floor. Before I can shut myself up in my office and set my plan into motion, Blake corners me.
“Don’t go crazy, man. You’ve already messed this up, so don’t push too hard. She may not spill your secrets right now, but you don’t want to drive her to the point where she will, okay?”
“Got it,” I say. Then, when I get behind my desk, I pull up an unfamiliar website and make a call I’ve never made in my entire life.
A woman picks up on the second ring.
“Hi. Yes. This is Charles Masters, and I’d like to place an order for delivery, please.”
***
Shiree
At the bar that evening, I regale my favorite women with the story of my afternoon. Lyra’s pretty upset that she left right before I had to go back inside to meet with Mr. Dates Like A Caveman again. But Patti and Zo are hysterically chortling over the whole thing. Giggles, snorts—the whole shebang.
I’m glad my ridiculous life is so funny to them.
No, really, I am. I can laugh about it now too. Especially since I’m the one who decided to sit at his desk like I owned the joint. I’m not sure when I became the person who does that, but apparently, that office makes people do crazy things.
I’d hope that I never have to go there again, but I’d totally be lying. And, if there’s anything I’m not, it’s a liar. Well, I’m also not rich or famous, but let’s not split hairs here. I’m certainly not trying to be either of those, so they don’t matter. I can control whether I’m a liar or not, and I won’t add that to the list of things I’ve done wrong today.
You know, like let Charles—excuse me, Chaz—Masters go without guaranteeing I’d see him again.
Ugh. I know. He was a complete alpha male in his office. But I did kind of like how sure he was of himself. The thought that I’d say no hadn’t even crossed his mind. I’m sure of it. And I did kind of like that he asked me. Even though I was in my work uniform—unflattering green pants, the cap, all of it. Even though I’m pretty much “the help.” He saw me. And he asked me out.
Okay, he didn’t ask then. But he wanted to go out with me. And he did ask me later. But, because it’s Thursday and I have a standing date with my girls every Thursday, I couldn’t say yes. And he didn’t give me the opportunity to ask him if tomorrow or something would work. Which I’m thankful for. I would have looked like an idiot in front of his friend Blake after all of that. No self-respecting woman turns a demanding man like that down the way I did and then grovels for a second chance.
Nope. No, she doesn’t.
So I guess that’s that.
“Earth to Shiree. Where’d you go, girl?�
� Lyra snaps her fingers in my face, which rips me from my thoughts. Then she smiles. “Don’t lose yourself to your head now! It’s Thirsty Thursday, ya know.”
“Oh, sorry,” I say, shaking my head. “I was thinking about today. How strange it was.” A small smile graces my lips.
“I’m not sure strange begins to cover it,” Patti says, pointing her beer bottle at me. Her black hair reaches past her shoulders in the front, the back only touching her neck. “But what are you gonna do now?”
“Umm…” I pretend to think about it when I’m really deciding what drink I want next. “Order another round?”
The girls laugh again, but they agree to that. So I head over to the bar and order everyone another round of drinks. I don’t know why I was even considering getting something other than my usual Sea Breeze—vodka, cranberry, and grapefruit all the way, every day. This day has me that confused.
Suddenly, Lyra’s next to me at the bar. I glance over to where she left the other two girls at our table, but they seem fine, talking to each other like they usually do when we tend to pair off. I love Patti and Zo, but Lyra just gets me. She’s my girl soul mate. And she’d say the same about me.
“Seriously, how are you doing?” she asks me now.
See? She knows me.
Or maybe I’m just that transparent. Whatever.
“Honestly?” I question.
“Always,” she answers while giving me her signature duh look.
I smile at that, but it fades just as quickly as it showed up. “I don’t know. I feel…weird.” Then I shrug. That’s all I got.
“Weird how?”
“I don’t know. Just weird.” Since I know that that won’t suffice, I keep going. “Because I met this famous, wealthy guy and he wanted to date me? And I freaking said no?”
She bumps me with her hip to lighten my mood, which is taking a depressing turn—thanks to the alcohol, I’m sure. “It’s not like he asked you though. He ordered it, and that’s fucking rude,” she insists.
“Well, I know that. But he did ask later. After I’d called him on it. And I still said no.”
“As you should have. You had plans with us. We’re way more important than some selfish, self-loving A-hole.”
My shoulders slump at her depiction of him. “But I don’t think he’s really like that. He’s just used to a certain thing, and I’m not used to that certain thing, so we bumped heads. I really think that’s all there is to it, Lyr.”
“Whoa,” she says, her hands up in surrender.
Then our drinks arrive, and we both take two. As we walk back to our table and our friends, she continues what is bound to be a tirade.
“I can’t keep up with your mood swings here, lady. First, you seemed kinda pissed about the whole thing. Then we laughed at it. But then you didn’t seem like you cared. Now, you’re sad because you might have misread him when, clearly, you didn’t if he came to apologize to you? And then he insulted you! He knows he did something wrong, Shiree. Don’t discredit that.”
“Discredit what?” Zo, our cute redhead, asks as we set the drinks down.
“Yeah,” Patti adds, tipping her beer at Zo. “What Zo said.”
Huh. She normally calls Zo Zed—something they’ve done since high school, I guess. But she didn’t. They looked like they were fine when I checked on them, but maybe something happened? I don’t know. Lyra steamrolls ahead to fill in for me though.
“The fact that Mr. Dates Like A Caveman, Charles Masters himself,” she says, “did wrong. Because our girl here is having second thoughts.” She dramatically swings her gaze to me, her eyebrows lifted on her forehead.
“Hey!” I shout. “I don’t think we should be talking about this anyway. He wanted to make sure I didn’t go public with his caveman tendencies, so let’s just let it go. It doesn’t matter anyway, right? Like you said, he was a self-loving A-hole. I’ll leave it at that and dance my mood swings away, okay?” I plead, my wide eyes.
After a moment, she huffs. “Fine. Grab your drinks, ladies. Let’s dance!”
While I’m dancing, though, I swear I feel eyes on me. On my back as I sway my hips to the beat. On my front when I turn around and attempt to lose myself in the rhythm—and see where this overwhelming sense of being watched is coming from. With the lights in my eyes, I can barely see anything, so nothing suspicious jumps out at me. Which forces me to let it go. I’m probably wishing this were some kind of romance novel and he’d be here, lurking in the shadows, waiting to rescue me from my self-imposed misery from having turned him down when, now, I realize I should have said yes.
My simple life isn’t like that though. I can’t allow myself to get used to anomalies like meeting Chaz Masters and being asked out on a date. Okay, demanded and then asked. I don’t want to allow myself to get used to those things. I’m perfectly fine with my simple life.
Right?
If that’s so true, why can’t I get what it would be like to be with Chaz—I mean, Mr. Masters—out of my head?
Chapter 4
Shiree
Patti didn’t feel well, so she and Zo left the bar early last night. And, now, I’m glad I didn’t stay too long after that. It’s a busy Friday at work, and I need all of my wits about me to drive my truck, deliver packages, and stay sane. But, as I’m jamming to my music and driving toward Mr. Masters’s downtown office building, I’m hoping there’s a package in here for him. I didn’t allow myself to look for it, just like I won’t allow myself to call him Chaz. He calls me Miss James, so it feels appropriate. Whatever.
Still, I want the excuse to see him again. Maybe he’ll try asking me out one more time. I’ll say yes this time, Universe. Hear me? I didn’t mean to let my shock at having been caught and then my pride in my simple, normal, boring life get in the way, okay? Sure, my moods are still swinging over this, but if he asks again, I’ll settle on positive moods, at the very least.
Maybe. Maybe not. But I’ll never know if there’s no package with his name on it on my truck today. It’s on my list of stops, so I know I have to drop something off. Which means I’m crossing my fingers and my toes and anything else I can cross that one of them says To: Charles Masters.
When I stop in front of his building, I check the back, but there’s nothing with his name on it. Or with their address on it. So, why is it on my manifest of stops today?
Then I remember the random pickup I had to do at the florist this morning. That gorgeous bouquet of roses and baby’s-breath is up front with me, so they must need to be dropped off here. When I go up to the front of my truck to check the address on the flowers, all they say is To: Charles Masters.
Just like I wanted. Shit. But not at all like I wanted. Because someone sent him flowers.
Is he already dating someone? And he asked me out? What a douche!
Wait. I have to slow down. It might be nothing like that. No, he hasn’t exactly earned my patience and understanding, but I shouldn’t start judging when I know nothing about his situation.
Except that he told me a little bit about it. His board members don’t want him looking like such a slut. It’s bad for business. Oh, and then he accused me of being a greedy jerk and thinking about going to the media with how ridiculous he acted in his office. And, now, someone else has sent him flowers.
So…I should forget this whole thing. I’ll take the flowers up there and be done. Leave and refuse to deliver stuff here. Or at least refuse to see him when I do deliver stuff here. Because I won’t lose my job over this nonsense.
Okay. I’m rooting myself in my fury. Yet another mood swing, but I think I’ll stay here awhile. Even if it’s just for self-preservation. I won’t let him walk all over me. End of story.
At the receptionist desk on the first floor, I say, “These are for Charles Masters,” gesture to the flowers, and strut over to the elevators. Then I get in, push the button for the twenty-third floor, and remember how different the circumstances were yesterday when I was doing this very thing.
Yesterday, I was excited as I thought about maybe catching a glimpse of Mr. Masters. Yesterday, I only thought I knew things about him. Yesterday, I didn’t know what the inside of his office looked like. Yesterday, I didn’t even know what his voice sounded like, especially when he was insulting my very being.
Today, I’m dreading the thought of seeing him, even in passing. Today, I know things about him with utmost certainty. Today, I know what his office looks like and how it feels to sit in the chair behind his desk. Today, I know exactly what his voice—his deep, soothing voice—sounds like, especially when he’s asking me to dinner so he can apologize for having insulted my very being.
Shit.
The elevator opens to those same opaque double doors, and I push the same button I pushed yesterday. Then the same voice comes over the intercom.
“Name?” the woman I now know as Janet asks.
“Shiree with NatEx. I have—”
Before I can finish my sentence to fully make this scene the same as yesterday, the doors open and I’m able to walk in. Perhaps my name means something around here now. Wonderful.
When I reach Janet’s desk, she points in the direction of Mr. Masters’s office. So I walk that way and hope that he’s not in there.
But, after knocking on the door and hearing nothing, I open it only to find that he is in there. Sitting on the corner of his desk. Clearly waiting for me. Looking just as delicious as yesterday in his crisp suit and tie. I try not to let that distract me though. Tempting as it is.
“You knew these were being delivered?” I ask from the doorway.
“Come in, Miss James,” he beckons.
But I don’t enter. “Answer my question.”
“Yes,” he admits. “I knew they were being delivered.”
When I say nothing because he actually answered the question the way I thought he’d answer it, he continues.
“I knew they were being delivered because I ordered them, Miss James.”
