"So is he going to move here?"
I hear the worried note in her voice and I know what she's thinking.
"No," I say apologetically, "I don't think that makes sense. He owns his house on some land in Colorado. He has a business. He's established there."
Bethany's face scrunches up in confusion as she looks at me, "But you own your house. And you have a business too. You're established here."
She does make a good point.
I'm trying to think of how to explain it to her. The complicated process of deciding to get remarried at all. Of how I'm looking forward to leaving my past behind me. That it's time to move on and live again.
I don't even know if I've explained it to myself yet. When I hired Raven I just wanted the companionship. A good friend to share my life-- and expenses-- with. I was expecting maybe a widower, especially when I found out that Nathan was older than me. Someone who just didn't want to be alone anymore. Like me.
Finding myself smiling every time he calls or texts, the way my stomach gets all fluttery, the way my imagination runs away with me when I'm alone remembering that kiss in the elevator-- this isn't what I expected at all.
So yeah, I didn't expect to be thinking about selling the house and moving to another state. I sure as hell didn't think I'd be contemplating giving up my bookstore.
"Is that why Raven was asking us all about you when she came by that day?"
Beth is busy rearranging books on the next book case. She asks the question so casually it almost doesn't register with me. Then I remember the week Raven came out to do some final interviews with me before she started looking for matches for me.
"Us who?" I ask Beth.
"Me and the book club ladies," Beth quips happily.
"What kind of questions?"
One of the reasons I was so surprised when Raven took me on as a client was because I didn't have a "team" to help her with the decision making process.
Her application guidelines clearly state that she requires at least one person from the applicant's personal life to take on the task of making the final choice from the matches Raven narrows it down to.
But I didn't have anyone. My parents are gone. I'm an only child. It's not like I could ask my former in-laws to help me pick a new husband. By the time I got to the part of the application process where I needed to provide Raven with the names of who I wanted on my team, I realized I didn't even have any close personal friends.
After Paul passed away, I guess I just kind of shut myself off.
"She just wanted to know how long we all knew you and then she asked about how you and I met," Beth rattles on. "She was really interested in what kinds of books you like to read and you know Alice was more than happy to give her a detailed plot synopsis of every book you've ever sold her."
Bethany giggles and I'm reminded of just how young she is.
"And Elizabeth wouldn't stop talking talking about the sex scenes in the ebooks you keep recommending to her, I think Raven was really surprised that Elizabeth loves all those smutty books."
I chew on my lip as I watch my teenage assistant pull mis-categorized books off the shelf and stack them next to her where she's sitting on the floor.
Elizabeth is in her 70s, when I met her, I was surprised at how dirty she likes her books. It took me awhile to stop apologizing for the sex scenes whenever I found a new author I thought she'd like.
Thing is, I have a sneaking suspicion that Raven was less surprised at how dirty Elizabeth likes her romance novels than she might have been at how dirty I like mine.
So many of our conversations come flooding back to me suddenly. Every time Raven asked about my sex life. All the raised eye brows when I told her I hadn't been with a man since Paul died. Her insistence on our short flight out of Durango before we parted ways that I needed to spend time alone with Nathan and make sure we were "compatible" before I committed to marrying him.
"Oh, and she did call once and talk to me for a really long time before you guys went to Colorado," Beth tells me as an afterthought as she gets to her feet and carries the stack of books to another book case.
"She did?"
"Yeah," I hear Beth's disembodied voice from the other side of the book case I'm working on, "I thought she was just trying to set you up with someone--" Beth's beaming smile appears around the corner of the shelf, "But now that I know what she was really doing, it makes a whole lot more sense!"
Before I can follow Bethany back to the new shelf she's working on, she volunteers the exact information I was going to grill her for.
"She was wondering if you ever went out at all, like just to meet guys and--" I have to stop quickly to avoid bumping into her when she suddenly stops and looks back at me shyly.
"And what?" I half laugh, wondering what Raven might have asked that would have my Love-Conquers-All assistant blushing so bad.
"Well, I mean, she did apologize for asking. I mean, she did say she realized it wasn't exactly the most appropriate question to ask me since I'm not quite even 18 yet and you're my boss and all but..."
"Spit it out, Bethany," I order her sternly as I cross my arms.
I'm trying to play it cool, acting like no matter what Raven asked my assistant, it's all part of the process, but the truth is I can't imagine what it could have been that would make Bethany so nervous to tell me. I'm even more curious to know what Beth said.
"She wanted to know how long I thought you'd wait to sleep with a guy if you really liked him."
Bethany shrugs nonchalantly and then high-tails it to the back and locks herself in the bathroom before I can scrape my chin off the floor.
I don't know if I'm more mortified that Raven asked, or that she asked my 17year old assistant.
"I'll be 18 next month!" Beth yells from behind the locked door when I finally find my voice.
"Fine!" I answer impatiently as I wait for her to come out.
It's an ambush, plain and simple.
"So what did you say?" I demand as soon as Bethany emerges from the back room, cautiously approaching the register where I'm trying to look busy and not at all desperate to hear what she really thinks about me.
Beth's lips purse together and slide to the side of her face as she watches me change a brand new roll of receipt tape in the credit card machine.
I roll my eyes at her, painfully aware that I'm the one acting like a teenager right now. Bethany's smile returns to her young face and she opens her mouth to answer me at the exact same moment the bell on the front door chimes.
"Hi, can I help you find something?" Beth's sing-songy customer-greeting voice fills the book store and I'm left to let the curiosity gnaw at my gut while she leads the unfamiliar woman to the back of the store where the non-fiction is.
Nathan
I keep telling myself not to be nervous. Tiffany and I have been on the phone every day since she left last month. We've already discussed the major issues-- like who's moving and who gets to redecorate whose house (her, her, and mine.)
I went into this plan expecting a wife out of it and now that I've met the woman that was picked for me by a professional match maker, my friend and neighbor, and my own kids, I can't see any reason not to go through with it.
That's why there's a burgundy velvet ring box sitting in my safe at home right now as I drive Tiffany back to my place from picking her up at the airport.
Even though we haven't specifically discussed actually getting married yet.
Which might be why I'm so damn nervous.
"It's really pretty out here."
Tiffany's voice from the passenger seat snaps me back to reality.
"Yeah, kinda nice, huh?"
"It's not the way I picture Colorado," she says as she watches the high desert landscape roll by outside.
"You were thinking all mountains and bears and ski lodges?" I joke.
Her laugh is soft and shy and I love it.
"Maybe not exactly," she says as she turns back to face me, "but defi
nitely more trees."
My place is on the west side of the Rocky Mountains, tucked into farmland that most people associate more with the Midwest than southern Colorado.
"Is that Helen?" Tiffany asks as we drive past my nosy neighbor standing at the edge of her property where it borders the long private road that leads to my house.
Helen waves at us as we pass by and we both wave back. Tiffany a tad more enthusiastically than myself.
"So that's her place?"
"Yup, she's got about 2 and half acres," I tell her, "and 2 of mine."
Tiffany snorts when she laughs and then covers her face with her hand in embarrassment but it doesn't keep her from laughing.
"What's so funny?" Her laugh is infectious but I don't know what I'm laughing at.
"Oh, it's just that Helen told me her garden is technically on your side of the property line," Tiffany says as I park the car under the carport beside my house, "she thinks you don't know."
"Is that so?" I put my hands on my hips and stare up the road to where I can see the old woman spraying the edge of her land with weed killer.
"Yeah," Tiffany informs me as I retrieve her luggage from the trunk, "she said it's good for you to have someone to dote on."
I chuckle under my breath at the idea of Helen thinking I'm the one who's been doing the doting all these years.
Tiffany is standing at the edge of the driveway, looking around at where she is.
"How much of this is yours?"
Her voice is soft and slightly awed as she looks at the acres of farmland surrounding my house.
"About a hundred and forty acres," I tell her.
"So you're a farmer?" She sounds confused, "I thought you--"
"Nah," I interrupt her, "I don't have a clue how to farm a field. I rent out the land to a local guy. I just do pumps."
Her head bobs up and down in silent understanding. I've already spent way too much time explaining my business to her. Not that there's much to explain about selling and installing irrigation systems.
Holding my breath while I wait for her assessment of the place, I carry her suitcase up the steps of the porch and unlock the front door.
It's just an old farmhouse on a 10 acre chunk of the back corner of the land. Built in the mid-1960's, it's a sprawling, single story ranch style with a breezeway connecting the 2 car garage to the house. Which is why I had the carport built on-- by the time I got my tools and toys in the garage, I still needed someplace to park the cars.
"So the bike lives in there?" She points toward the man-cave in question with a grin.
"Yup," I'm impressed she remembers our conversation about the garage, "I'll show it to you later. If the weather stays nice, I'll take you for a ride."
After what seems like a very long wait for her to take in the outside of the house, Tiffany finally steps over my threshold for the first time.
"Oh." Is all she says as she stands on the tiled step of the large entryway and looks around at what she can see from her.
"Yeah, I know," I grumble a little cuz I think that's what I'm supposed to do as a man who's about to have my bachelor pad turned upside-down, "I told you you could do whatever you need to with it."
Truth is, I'm looking forward to letting her have free reign of the old place. I'm sure she'll start by tearing the dark wood paneling off the walls in the living room. Maybe she'll want a mantle over the fireplace-- it's always been just plain brick wall. Probably the architect's idea of "modern" back when the place was built, but a woman probably wants to fill it up with nick-knacks and pictures in fancy little frames and shit.
"It's not bad." She doesn't sound convincing as she heads toward the kitchen. "Well not all bad," she adds as she sets her purse down on the dark brown tiled counter of the kitchen island.
"No need to go sparing my feelings," I assure her as I turn toward the hall, "I told you-- I always meant to update the place, it's just..."
"You never got around to it." Her voice is sweet and understanding behind me as she follows me down the hall to the bedrooms.
"Somethin' like that," I agree.
More like I just never had a reason to get around to it. The Brady Bunch look was always good enough for me. The girls tried to talk me into some changes when they were in high school but by that time, I knew they weren't going to be coming out as much pretty soon and deep down I always wanted a woman in my life that I could hand the project over to.
"Uh," I set Tiffany's suitcases on the floor next to the queen size bed in the guest room and look up to see the uncertainty on her face as she stands in the doorway, "I figured I'd set you up in this room..."
...and hope you never step foot in it again, I finish my thought silently. I don't want to assume too much but hell, I am planning on marrying the woman. I don't think it's too much to expect her to spend her nights in my bed.
"Yeah, I guess that's probably a good idea," she says, not sounding like she thinks it's a good idea at all.
Maybe she's remembering that kiss in the elevator too. The way her skin has reddened with a blush and her eyes fall off mine to the floor somewhere near my feet makes me think she's not just remembering it, but looking forward to finding out where it would have gone if we'd gotten the chance.
No one has to hit me over the head.
The distance between us is closed in 2 steps.
Tiffany makes a surprised little yelp as I pull her to me and then push her down on the bed but before she can say anything I'm beside her and her hands are around my neck, pulling me against her as our tongues tangle together.
I'm surprised at the way she takes the lead, her lips never leaving mine as her hands wander down my shoulders and over my chest.
When her leg wraps around mine and she presses her body against me, any notion that this is just a friendly hello make out session gets erased from my brain.
My hands slide under her blouse and pull her breasts free of her bra and her pelvis rocks against the hard bulge in my jeans as her lips break from mine in a sharp inhale.
The sweet sound drives me insane with the anticipation of what other noises I can pull from her.
It's been a long time since I was with a woman, but not so long that I've forgotten how to unsnap a bra with one hand while I unbutton her pants with my other.
Tiffany's fingers deftly work through the buttons on her own blouse and then go to work on my jeans. One of her hands slides beneath the waist band of my briefs while my mouth works on one of her hard nipples, slipping my tongue over the tightened bud till her back arches and a soft moan rewards my efforts.
I manage to kick my shoes off without taking my mouth off her. Then she's tugging my jeans down as I slide my fingers between the black lace panties and the soft skin of her abdomen as her hand wraps around my shaft.
Seconds later we're skin to skin, jeans laying in a crumpled pile on the floor, her blouse on the other side of the bed, her bra undone and hanging loosely from one shoulder, my own t-shirt thrown aside somewhere.
Her hand is working up and down my hard cock, pulling me ever closer to the growing wetness where my fingers slide between her folds.
We haven't come up for air, or to our senses, and neither of us are in any danger of doing either until we finish what we've started.
"Was that Ms. Tiffany I saw in your car?"
Tiff and I freeze, holding our breath and searching each other's eyes for answers to the mutual question.
"You know you left the front door wide open." Helen's voice calls down the hall from the front door.
"Fuck!" I lay my head against Tiffany's stomach.
It's soft and slightly rounded and when I curse at the interruption, it lurches beneath my forehead with Tiffany's silent laughter.
"Nate? Are you kids in here?" Helen sounds like she's heading farther away from the bedrooms at least.
"Is this normal?" Tiffany whispers as she rolls out from under me and starts pulling on her clothes as she finds them.
Shaking
my head in frustration I pull up my jeans and snatch my shirt off the dresser where it must have landed.
"Only when I leave the damn door open," I tell her on my way out to intercept the old woman before she starts searching the rooms for us.
Tiffany
While Nathan rushes out to intercept Helen before she catches us in a position that I'm sure she'd never shut up about, I work on looking like I'm not a teenager who almost got caught making out in my boyfriend's room.
It doesn't seem as easy to do as it was back then.
While I listen to Nathan's patient voice talking with Helen out in the kitchen, I make a dash across the hall to the bathroom.
So much for looking like I wasn't about to go all the way. My hair is a mess, my long-wearing lipstick is non-existent, and my shirt is on inside-out.
I wonder if Nathan did a better job getting dressed in a hurry than I did, or if his neighbor is out there right now, silently eyeing a list of tell-tale signs that she interrupted something.
Knowing Helen, she wouldn't be so silent.
Feeling guilty for leaving Nate out there on his own to fend off any uncomfortable questions, I fix my clothes and make an effort to tame my hair with a little water and some finger combing after a quick search of the guest bathroom drawers reveals absolutely nothing resembling a comb or a brush.
The lack of any signs that a woman has been in this house surprises me. I think of Dani and Summer, Nathan's daughters. I know they both said they don't get to visit their dad as much as they'd like now that they're older and busy with their own lives, but I expected to find his house still filled with their things.
I guess they meant it when they told me he was out here all by himself. No wonder they were so glad to hear he'd decided to get remarried. If a little surprised at the method he chose for finding their new step-mom.
The still slightly askew woman in the bathroom mirror smiles at me. I'm so excited about getting an instant family. Even if the girls are grown. At least I already know I adore them and, seeing as how they did pick me to marry their dad, I'm pretty sure they like me too.
A Sensible Arrangement: A Modern Match-Maker Romance Page 7
