How to Deal

by Shey Stahl

I’m wet.

  Oh, the possibilities.

  Adrenaline rushes through my veins, gives me courage so I hike one leg up around his waist. I’m not sure what I’m doing here, but we both start panting, hands frantic. We’re in a club and my friends see what we are doing and start making catcalls. The raucous shout of laughter brings us back to reality.

  Goose bumps overwhelm me at the touches, but then they’re gone just as quickly because he pulls away. I can see the hunger in his dark eyes. No way did he want that to end, and pulling away seems to have caused him actual pain. His left hand rises and runs over the back of his neck seeming conflicted.

  “Please don’t drive home like this,” he says, backing up again. He’s going to leave. I can see it in his eyes. “Take a cab.”

  “Or you could take me home.” I wait to see what he’ll say next, knowing if we’re alone tonight, the deal’s off and we’re fucking.

  Amalie! Don’t!

  “No.” He shakes his head and leans in to whisper in my ear over the music. “Been there, done that. You’re going to be sober the next time I fuck you.”

  He’s confident, isn’t he?

  “Who says there’ll be a next time?” My lips move against his ear.

  He smiles against my cheek. “All I need is one date. You should know that by now.”

  “Cocky much?”

  “Oh, I’m going to show you cocky, and you will remember. . .” I swallow as he continues, his breath blowing over my ear in the most provocative way. “. . .it this time.”

  Panties melt again.

  Weddings are beautiful.

  I suppose all weddings are, but Casey and Bryan’s wedding is breathtaking. I’d like to say I had a hand in creating it, but Zane and Casey’s cousins did most of the work. I suck at being a maid of honor.

  As I’m standing off to the side watching Casey and Bryan stuff cake in each other’s faces, Tathan to their right taking pictures, Paul comes to stand next to me with the remnants of champagne in his glass.

  “You look beautiful.”

  I turn to look at him, smoothing out my lavender dress and fixing the one curl that keeps falling out of my artfully pinned up dark hair. “Thank you.”

  I should have been mad at Paul. In a roundabout way, he set Tathan and me up.

  He looks at Tathan and gives a tip of his head toward him. “Thank you for giving him a chance.”

  I snort. “It’s only one date.”

  He smiles and takes the last drink of his champagne. “Sure it is.”

  He sees right through me and continues with his train of thought. “Every relationship starts with only one date, ya know.”

  I look up at him, not knowing how to respond. I’ve spent so many years protecting my heart and my head from the emotional trauma that relationships gone badly can cause, that I’m not entirely sure how to change the way I’m hardwired to be around men.

  I think he’s going to walk away, but he stays. He carefully watches Bryan and Casey, and the way Tathan is capturing every moment for them to relive years from now. “His parents had something very special. They’d known each other since they were babies, but Jason had a plan for his life. They didn’t marry until they were out of college and had their careers going, but it never stopped their friendship before that. It was what was most important to him. To her. They really were best friends.”

  “Tathan and I certainly haven’t started out that way, Paul. He’s annoyed me more over the past few months than any other person I know.” I look up at him as I casually sip my champagne, aware I’m lying through my teeth.

  Paul steals a glance at the happy couple before returning his gaze to me. “But just think about why he would devote so much attention to you. Hell, even move in across from you if not for the fact that there is more to him wanting more with you. Tathan’s a keeper. He’s devoted, loyal, and has a passion for anything he sets his mind to. Look at how passionate he is about what he’s doing. That same passion he will feel toward anyone who will hold his heart as well.”

  Damn, if I wasn’t second-guessing myself on this whole Tathan thing, and why someone as wealthy as Tathan would move into my apartment building, Paul’s ringing endorsement is definitely causing me to trust his intentions now.

  It’s easy to see where Tathan’s passion lies. Photography.

  It’s in the simple aspects of it too.

  When the bride says I do.

  When the groom lifts her veil.

  When they kiss for the first time as husband and wife.

  It’s all moments he captures for them, as a little memory in time they will have forever.

  “Dance with me?” Tathan sets his camera down when “Dare to Believe” by Boyce Avenue comes on. A very well-placed song and a very well-placed question, just when I’m daring to believe he might be someone I can take a chance on.

  “Just don’t sing,” I tease, taking his hand.

  He smiles, his hands wrapping around my waist gently, holding me to his chest.

  I smile back up at him, hooking my hands around his shoulders.

  “You know,” he begins as we gently sway, and he turns his gaze down to me. “I held up my end of the deal.”

  “And so I owe you that date now,” I finish.

  Tathan nods. “You made a deal.”

  “Yes, I did.” As we dance, I can’t help but watch my best friend and how happy she is. It seems all her life she’s waited for this day where she could call Bryan her husband.

  I stare at Casey, nearly in tears. “She’s absolutely beautiful.”

  Tathan leans down and presses his lips to my temple. “You are too.”

  My eyes continue to watch them, happy and content as Casey smiles at me nearly in tears.

  “Thank you,” she whispers.

  Tears collect along the rims of my eyes, and I give her a wink and lay my head on Tathan’s chest.

  “No, thank you, Casey,” I return, knowing she can read my lips. If it wasn’t for her, I’d probably be at home with Oliver eating Cheerios. Instead, I’m daring to believe this deal just may be a good one.

  When the dance is over, I pull away and take a few steps back. Tathan reaches over to the table and retrieves his camera. The sun is setting behind me. Deep orange hues surround him in his black tux. I raise my hand and touch his chest, just a little feel.

  “Pick me up at seven tomorrow,” I tell him and turn so I can’t see his face, literally walking off into the sunset.

  Cliché, huh?

  I think so, too, but it’s fitting for the day. When I turn back around, about twenty feet from him, he snaps a photograph of me. Unlike him, I won’t need a photograph to remember this moment. It’s etched on the very fiber of my soul because I’m pretty sure I’m so far past the point of no return with Tathan. . . and it scares the ever-living hell out of me.

  He doesn’t look at me long and then stares at his camera, studying the image he just took, remembering the moment I assume. I wonder what he sees right then, a man so keen on capturing the true essence of a subject. Does he see me? Does he see exactly what he’s done to me?

  I hope he has.

  I have no idea where I want to go on our date until Tathan decides for me.

  He chooses an authentic Brazilian restaurant Fogo De Chao Brazilian Steak House. I’ve never been there, but Casey and Bryan went not too long ago and raved about it for days.

  We meet in the hall at the apartments, me in my little black dress that I know he can’t resist.

  He’s wearing dark slacks, and a gray dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The relaxed look really works for him. Did I mention he’s wearing a black tie?

  I want to be tied up with it. I want it bound around my wrists while he worships my body before him. Is that too much to ask?

  I didn’t think so.

  The restaurant is in Scottsdale across town, and it doesn’t take too long to get there. It is, however, the first time I’ve ever been in his car. It’s sleek with black leat
her that smells amazing.

  By his car, how he furnishes his home, and the way he dresses, it is abundantly clear Tathan likes nice things. I don’t blame him on that one. Nice things are, well, nice, and he works hard to afford them.

  He pulls up to the door, the lights dancing across the hood of his shiny car. A man dressed in a black suit reaches for the handle of my door, another for his, and we’re both escorted from the car.

  Tathan hands the man closer to him the keys and then reaches for my hand.

  I take it, being polite. “You’re trying your best, aren’t you?”

  “One needs to be confident around you, and it’s my job to protect the pride, right?”

  I stifle a laugh.

  As we walk inside, we’re greeted by the host. “How may I help you?”

  “Reservations for Madsen,” Tathan says, leaning into her. There’s something I’ve never noticed about him which I find endearing. When he talks to you, he leans in, as if you have his full attention. He doesn’t do this to flirt. It’s his way of letting you know he cares.

  They seat us near the window. White tablecloths cover the round table for two, and the place settings are already beautifully arranged. It reminds me of Casey’s wedding last night.

  “Have you ever been here?” I ask, taking in my surroundings.

  He nods. “Yeah, Paul brought my brothers and me here a couple months ago. We all have dinner about once a month.”

  “How long have you done that?”

  “Since my parents died.” I hate the sad eyes that drift my way. “It was Paul’s way of continuing my dad’s tradition.”

  “Your dad took you to dinner once a month?”

  He nods again and looks over at the waiter as they deliver a bottle of wine to the table. He thanks them and then turns back to me. “It was something he started when we were little. Kind of like a boys’ night, I guess.”

  I sigh.

  It’s quite the event they have planned for this type of dining experience. First you get your salad, which is pretty much a meal in itself with fresh vegetables, imported cheese and sides to choose from. Then when you’re finished with your salad, you turn over this coin on your table to green.

  Gaucho chefs wearing light blue shirts with red ties come to your table with fire roasted meats and slice you off pieces. Endless amounts too. Anything you want they pretty much have. When you’re done, you flip the coin to the red side.

  I’ve never experienced anything like this, and I think Tathan can sense that.

  “How’s the Picanha?” Tathan asks, taking a sip of his wine and watching me closely.

  I’m impressed he can say that because I can’t. “Mmmm.” I moan around the tines.

  “Don’t moan. . . .”

  “Oh, but the pussy is delicious.” My hand immediately flies to my mouth, catching myself, but it’s too late. I want to die. Stab myself with this very fork.

  God, really, Amalie? Fucking really? At a nice establishment like this, you decide to have word vomit.

  One eyebrow cocks, and there’s a glimmer of amusement in hit entrancing eyes. “I bet it is,” Tathan says, through laughs.

  I hang my head in shame. “I meant to say Picanha. It’s good.”

  “It is,” he agrees, resting his elbows on the table and leaning in. “Say pussy again.”

  “No. Shut up, we’re eating.”

  “But if you keep that up, and the moaning, I’m going to test out the sturdiness of this table. Fuck the eating. I’ll eat—”

  “Stop. It.” I gasp at his words, though I’m not surprised by them. This boy is dirty.

  He shifts in the wooden chair, smiling down at me with a light laughter and changes the subject. “I’m surprised you’ve never been here before. Bryan and Casey were talking about it at their engagement session.”

  “They go out to eat a lot.” I shrug, reaching for my wine. “I don’t. I have no life and have a dog.”

  “I really need to get on that dog’s good side.” Tathan laughs, remembering Oliver’s hatred toward him.

  “He likes roses.”

  “Hmmm.” He gives me a smile, eyes twinkling so bright they make me smile. “I’ll consider that.”

  Throughout the evening, it’s an endless supply of food to the point where I can’t even look at my plate any longer.

  “I need to get out of these clothes. I can’t breathe.” And I immediately realize my major gaffe.

  “I am almost positive I can help you with that when we get back to the apartment.” Tathan gives me a once-over, knowing what his words are doing to me.

  “Ready?” he asks when the waiter brings back his credit card.

  My pulse skips. “Yes.”

  He watches me as we stand, his eyes roaming over my body, letting me know exactly what he’s thinking when they drift closed, and he groans in my ear as we start to walk toward the door.

  “That was some amazing food.” I smile when we walk outside. The heat of the night assaults my face, and for a moment, I wish it was cold so I could snuggle against him. “Thank you.”

  He looks out at the hills as we wait for his car to be brought around, my arm wrapped around his. “Can I take you somewhere?”

  Shrugging, I let him take my hand and lead me. “Where?”

  “A place I like to take photos.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Is this a trick to get me in your car so you make out with me and steam up the windows?”

  “Maybe.” He smiles. It’s infectious and captivating.

  “Okay.”

  He takes me up to Camelback Mountain, the same place I saw in the photos on his Facebook page. By the way, I wouldn’t advise hiking to this exact location in a dress. But the view. . . . It’s breathtaking and makes me wonder how he’s still single. How could a man who looks like this, talks the way he does, and gives grand gestures as such, still be single?

  So I have to ask, “How are you still single?”

  Tathan Madsen is nothing like I expected he would be, and I may have said that before. But I think it needs to be said again because most won’t see it. I didn’t. The beauty within this man is hard to see by the untrained eye. He’s rare. He’s magnificent and deep. Cherished for his talent behind the lens, what you see in those eyes is an honest man.

  He raises an eyebrow at me and bumps my shoulder as we stand in front of his car. “How are you still single?”

  I don’t answer because he knows why, which explains a lot right then, something I never considered. I never did find out what happened to those infamous girlfriends Tathan supposedly had. Never did I think he would have experienced what I had. The hurt, the heartache.

  “Where’d you catch them?”

  Sad eyes meet mine, honesty there for me. “My bed. We had been. . . engaged at the time.”

  We don’t say anything more. I don’t even know what to say, or even feel. He’s surprising, but Tathan doesn’t try to make out with me or even hold me. We just watch the city lights together and stand there in complete silence. Doesn’t even cop a feel.

  I find silence comforting. You’re not forcing yourself to say anything and, in turn, you’re relaxed and being yourself. That’s exactly what we are tonight.

  Tathan takes my hand in his as we stand. “I want you to hold my hand.”

  “Why?” I laugh, not understanding what he’s getting at.

  “Because, I’d hold your hand, but if you’re holding mine, it’s because you want to.”

  Do you see that girl right there?

  Me. Look at me closely. If you do, you can see the very moment when my heart finally cracks open and realizes just how special this guy is.

  Never two weeks ago would I have thought this could happen. I would have told you that you were crazy.

  He’s staring at me, waiting for my answer, so I laugh. “But how is it because I want to, if you tell me to hold it?”

  He shrugs. “I wasn’t demanding that you hold it.” I take his hand anyway and look out at th
e city. “I was just hoping you would.”

  He smiles at me again.

  At around ten, Tathan takes us back to our apartments. We walk in silence, smiling every once in a while because I think at this point he knows I’m going to invite him in. How can I not? He held my hand.

  Outside my door is a basket with the words: Muff’s Magic Mate, thanks to Zane.

  He sucks. I refuse to acknowledge it’s even there.

  Tathan laughs just as I thought he would. “Zane is something else.”

  I keep my eyes on the wall. “You want to come in?”

  I told myself I wouldn’t invite him in. The Force left me long ago, but I don’t want to sell out and give in on the first date. But I told him only one date, so I am most certainly giving in.

  He steps forward, his eyes on the basket and then slowly, they drift my way. My gaze falls to our hands when he knots our fingers together as my back meets my door. “I’m dying to come in.”

  I kick the basket inside the door to face Tathan. Oliver jumps around between our feet.

  When we get inside, we stare at each other.

  “I don’t know what I have to do to show you how I feel.” He steps forward, pushing me against the wall. “I don’t think you’ve ever had a man be there for you because he wanted to be.”

  I shake my head. I was breaking. . . fast, and he knew it. “I have to take Oliver outside.”

  “I don’t think you’ve ever had a man want to be here just to be with you. I want to be. I want to be that guy. Let me be him.”

  Like the amazing moments he captures that tell a story all on their own, he has a way with words that can break every emotional tie you’ve been holding onto and wrap you in this sense of serenity and warmth.

  I only nod, and he closes the distance between us, pressing his lips to mine. It’s tender at first, matching his words, and then the desire roots itself in our movements. One hand secures my face to his. We continue for a moment before I decide what I want. Him. In my bed. Now.

  Only Oliver has other ideas and pees on Tathan’s foot.

  I know what Oliver is thinking. “Get your face off my mommy, you sadistic son of a bitch!”