Her eyes are boring into me, and the disappointment in her voice makes my appetite for all things sweet and scrumptious vanish.
I knew this was coming. You can’t just take off from Katerina Thompson and not have her chew you out later.
“It wasn’t meant as an insult,” I start to answer her. It’s not like I was trying to upset her, and she should at least know that for a fact.
“It’s because you would have stopped her,” Sue says before shoving half of a tiny cupcake into her mouth and biting it right down the middle. She has no shame and gives Kat the answer as if it’s obvious. And I mean, come on, it is.
“No shit I would have stopped her.” Her wrath is directed at Sue now, and to be honest, I’m grateful. Sue doesn’t give a fuck. Literally, not a single fuck given. She stares Kat right in the eyes as she pushes the other half of the cupcake into her mouth with her pointer.
“It’s not that I was really thinking,” I say. There’s a small plea in my voice for Kat to just calm down.
“Of course you weren’t,” Kat snaps but immediately looks like she wants to take it back.
“Oh hush,” Sue says easily and then nods at me. “Good for you for going out and dusting off those cobwebs.” I snort a small laugh, and my shoulders shake from it. “He’s cute, too.”
“He better be,” Kat says beneath her breath, pulling out a bottle of water from her oversized Michael Kors hobo bag.
Sue rolls her eyes as she asks, “You gonna track him down and beat the shit out of him if he isn’t?” A smile forces its way onto my face and I try my damnedest to make it go away, but it’s not happening. Kat glares at Sue for a moment before returning to her water and taking a sip.
“So, your first one-night stand... how does it feel?” Sue asks.
I could write a damn book on the shit I’m feeling right now. The guilt and regret, the anxiety. But the other things, the bit of liveliness and… is it pride? Is that what it is? Knowing that I was wanted and desired like that? And that he still wants me? Yeah, that’s a bit of pride, which is odd to be feeling over something like this.
“He texted me this morning,” I confess and sway a little in my seat, picking at the hem of the tablecloth. “He wants to go out tonight.”
Sue’s mouth drops open as her eyes go wide. “Really?” She grins in slow motion and then makes a face as she wipes her fingertips on her napkin.
“What’s that for?” I ask her.
Sue shrugs and replies, “Nothing.”
“That’s not a nothing look,” I tell her right back, “That’s a something look.”
“You must’ve been good.” Sue pops a piece of macaron into her mouth and smiles wide. The tiered tray was filled with an assortment when we got here, but it’s almost empty except for the big cupcakes now.
My mouth opens some, and I have to force it back shut. By the heat on my cheeks, I imagine I’m beet red. Yeah, it’s definitely pride.
“So what’d you tell him?” Kat asks.
I’m embarrassed that I said I was busy and then said yes to the exact time and location he said originally, so I just cut to the chase. “I said yes.”
“You said yes to a date for tonight that was asked today?” Kat asks in a tone that makes it seem like my answer could be the difference between life and death.
“I did,” I answer slowly as Sue claps her hands and leans her head back with laughter. She’s so loud that a few customers in line at the counter look over at her.
“I love her. This is just too good to be true.” Sue’s smile just gets bigger and bigger until she spots the last tiny cupcake.
“I don’t understand.” I look between the two of them to find out what I’ve done wrong.
“You never say yes to a date on the day of.” My lips purse as Kat crosses her arms and looks at me like I should know better.
“Well, I told him no at first.” That’s my only defense. And really, do I give a fuck?
“But then you said yes,” Kat clarifies, and I nod in return.
“I just wanted to go out.” That weird feeling in my chest comes back. The one that makes me feel like I’m sick. Like all of this is wrong and I should feel guilty about it.
“With a stranger!” It’s Kat this time that gets the attention of the customers, and between the two of them I wish I could just leave.
“Well, not quite,” Sue interrupts, “they did fuck.”
Kat grabs her head in her hands and looks down at the ground groaning, “Oh my God.”
Her response makes me feel like complete and utter shit. “Just leave me alone. Seriously,” I grumble and shove the tiny white plate away from me, hating that I feel like this. That my friends are making me feel like this. “I haven’t gone out in-” my throat gets tight, and my breathing picks up. I refuse to fucking cry right now, to cry over this shit. I won’t do it. I won’t be made to feel guilty about it either. Not more than I already do.
“I didn’t plan this, Kat.” I point at my chest for emphasis and stare into her green eyes. The only emotion in her expression is regret. “You don’t think I feel like…” I swallow the sharp lump in my throat and try to will away all the shit emotions.
“No, no,” Sue speaks up and gets off her stool to get closer to me. “Don’t get all upset over this.” She shakes her head as she tries to calm me down, but it’s not working.
“You too!” I yell at her, and I don’t even know why I yelled. Yes, the questions are irritating the fuck out of me, but at least Sue isn’t trying to make me feel like shit.
She raises both her hands defensively. “Hey, I’m not the one slut-shaming.”
Kat whips her head to Sue and says sharply, “It’s not slut-shaming.” Everyone in the entire fucking shop is looking at us at this point. “He could have been a murderer!” she practically shrieks.
“Oh, calm down!” Sue looks genuinely pissed. “She was safe. I knew where she was,” Sue talks more to Kat than me, “and she was fine.” She emphasizes the word "fine” then slips off her stool, grabbing her purse off the table. “I actually have to get back to the office.”
I take a sip of my champagne, but there’s practically nothing in it. Fucking figures.
“You have fun tonight,” Sue says with a wink, like the last five minutes didn’t happen. I give her a small smile back and kiss her cheek before she moves to the other side.
Maddie’s not coming to this little cupcake brunch, so it’s just me and Kat now. I don’t like the feeling that I need armor to have a quick chat with one of my closest friends. I bite the inside of my cheek as I watch Sue leave completely nonplussed, the bells above the door jingling as I shift on the stool.
I know Kat’s looking at me, waiting for me to say something. Why do I feel like I owe her an apology? I let out a quick breath and face her, my shoulders square and my heart out on my sleeve. It’s always there; that’s how I’ve always lived my life.
“Kat, look-”
“Nope,” she cuts me off and holds up her hand. “It’s fine. Last night was fine. Tonight is fine.” She nods her head once, moving the purse from on top of her stool to the one Sue was sitting on. She finally takes a seat, tugging her black pencil skirt down. Her white blouse is nearly see through, but she still looks professional. She always appears on top of everything.
I start to explain my position. “I know it upset you for me to leave and not tell you.” I lean forward, putting my hand closer to her on the table.
“I think I overreacted,” Kat says not looking at me at first, but then she lifts her eyes to mine. “It really is okay, and I’m not trying to make you feel bad.” Her words come out with sincerity, and it surprises me how much I needed that. “Or slut-shame you or anything like that.”
“Thank you,” I reply and my voice cracks some and I roll my eyes, looking for my glass, but again finding it empty. I run my fingertips down the stem, feeling overwhelmed with guilt even though Kat’s told me she’s not shaming me.
She isn't why I f
eel guilty.
“Am I a bad person?” I ask Kat, finally pulling my eyes from the empty flute to look at her.
“No,” she answers with sad eyes, taking my hand in both of hers.
“Honestly,” she hesitates and it makes me that much more nervous. “I’m surprised after everything that happened...”
You must really live in a shit world when your closest friend says “everything that happened” and you need clarification on which specific thing she’s talking about.
I’m quiet waiting for her to finish, but she doesn’t.
“Just tell me that he’s not going to make you miss your deadline.” Kat’s trying to ease the tension. She’s my editor, and this manuscript is due in two weeks.
A smile grows on my face, but it’s not genuine in the least. I know for a fact I’m going to miss that deadline. She doesn’t need to know that though. “He won’t.” I shake my head cheerfully, my hair swishing against my shoulders.
“Okay then,” she says and raises her brows and finally picks up a cupcake. Kat goes for a large cupcake with hot pink icing and an Oreo stuck in the center. “Please tell me you’re at least using condoms until you get back on the pill or something.”
I know she meant for that to be funny, but when I give her some side-eye and shrug, she practically chokes on that damn Oreo.
Chapter 13
Mason
So close you can touch her,
Delicate and sweet.
You need her, you crave her,
To hide your deceit.
Be gentle and coaxing,
You can’t let her know.
If she finds out the truth,
Out the door she will go.
Blue Hill always dims the lights in the evening. That, along with the soothing sounds of the water flowing down the river rock wall, and the lit candle on the table, all makes the tone of the evening extremely romantic. The other guests are quiet, so the only really sound is the clinking of silverware and glasses as I wait for Jules to walk through the doors.
My fingertips brush over the silver tines of my salad fork as I stare straight ahead toward the entrance and maître d'. Guests have come and gone since I sat down twenty minutes ago, each one catching my attention and disappointing me. I glance down at my watch again; she still has five minutes until she’s late.
I make a habit of being early, but I’m regretting it this time. Every minute that passes makes me more and more eager to leave. Curiosity is the only thing keeping me here in my seat. The door opens, and the soft cadence of heels clicking on the slate floor reverberates in the room.
She’s here. Jules slips her grey wool pea coat off as she walks in, and then places it in her arms as she walks to the maître d'. I stand before she can utter a word and button my suit jacket as I walk toward her. I’m only a few tables down and she sees me just as the man asks her if she has a reservation.
“She’s with me.” My voice comes out deep, confident… and possessive. As she turns toward my voice, the hem of her plum-colored dress swirls around her thighs. It’s tight around her ass and waist, showing off her curves and reminding me how she looked beneath me last night.
“Of course,” the maître d' nods.
“Thank you,” Jules says sweetly, giving him a soft smile and looking back at me. It’s only a quick glance before a blush rises to her cheeks and she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and walks toward me.
She has that shy elegance about her, but there’s more to her than that. I want to dig a little deeper, if for nothing more than curiosity’s sake.
I gesture toward the table, pulling out her chair for her like a gentleman. It’s not in my nature, but I have enough manners to impress a woman at least.
“I’m surprised you wanted to see me again,” Jules says as I take my own seat.
Before I can respond she adds, “Thank you, by the way.” Her eyes flicker from mine to the candle. I don’t miss how she takes a few glances around us as if she’s searching for someone.
I nod my head once easily, setting the napkin in my lap and giving her a moment to get comfortable. The waiter quickly pours her a glass of water.
“Good evening. May I start you off with something to drink?” The young man squares his shoulders and waits, holding a glass pitcher at attention. He’s dressed in a crisp white button-down and dark grey slacks that match his thin tie.
“A bourbon for me please,” I answer him and look back at Jules. Her slender neck and shoulders are on display. The way the thin straps of her dress lay across the very edge of her shoulders makes me want to pull them down. A simple thin silver necklace sits right in the dip of her collarbone with the word “happy” etched in the middle. It’s the only piece of jewelry she’s wearing. The fact there's no ring on her finger doesn't escape me. I’m tempted to ask her about it, but I don’t.
“A glass of chardonnay, please?” she says.
“Right away,” the waiter says and nods, leaving us alone and once again Jules squirms uncomfortably. I love her nervousness and how she has a habit of tucking her hair behind her ear. It only adds to her innocence.
“No tequila?” I play with her.
She huffs a small laugh and rolls her eyes. “No,” she says as she unfolds the napkin in her lap, smoothing it out. “No tequila tonight.”
I shrug, waiting for those soft baby blue eyes to look back up at me. “I didn’t mind the tequila,” I whisper across the table. There’s not a damn thing dirty that I’ve said, but she still blushes. There’s an attraction between us that’s undeniable. It’s easy and carefree. But the air is tense as she looks to her left again and then back to me.
She hesitates to say something, but then changes her mind and clears her throat as she picks up the menu.
She starts talking without looking at me. “I’ve never done anything like this.”
“Like what?” I ask her.
“Like, seeing someone.”
“Is that what we’re doing?” I ask, slightly amused. “Seeing each other?”
She puts her menu down and looks at me with a serious expression. “I have no idea.” The sincere answer and complete honesty in her voice forces a rough laugh from my chest. I was only teasing her, but she’s too sweet and sincere for me to get a rise out of her.
“You can laugh all you want, but I have no clue what’s going on.” She picks her menu back up and says, “I’m just along for the ride, Mr. Thatcher.”
“Is that so?” I ask playfully and pick up my glass of water as the waiter comes back over to us, setting down my drink and then hers.
“It is,” she says absently, smiling into her glass and taking a sip of the white wine. She closes her eyes and lets out a barely audible soft moan of satisfaction. My cock starts hardening as I remember last night, and the same sweet sound slipping from her lips as I thrust into her over and over again.
She’s completely oblivious.
“So what changed in your plans?” I ask as she eyes the menu again. I don’t bother picking mine up. I know exactly what I’ll have.
A short, feminine laugh makes her shoulders shake as she pulls her long blonde hair over her shoulder and then brushes it back again. She shrugs and then finally answers, “I thought this would be better than what I had planned.”
Bullshit. I can tell she’s lying from a mile away.
“And what did you have planned before?”
She takes a sip of wine and then answers, “Writing.”
“Writing?” I ask.
“I like to go to Central Park to write,” she says, slipping her hands into her lap and leaning forward.
“Are you a journalist?”
“No,” she says and shakes her head, “I’m an author.” She takes a sip of wine again and I watch as she fiddles with the stem and continues. “I’m not well known or anything. I just write poetry.” She tries to wave off her insecurity and then adds, “It doesn’t really make much money, but it’s the career I chose.”
She�
��s already justifying her life, and I don’t like it. She should be proud of herself.
“I think that’s wonderful. It takes a lot of work and diligence to write a novel of poetry.”
Her eyes light up, and she visibly relaxes as she says in a delicate voice, “Thank you.”
“Who’s your favorite poet?” I ask.
“Robert Frost,” she answers quickly. “Hands down.”
“I’ve read a bit of Frost.” It’s true albeit years and years ago in grade school, and I’m pretty sure I hated every minute I was forced to read it. It doesn’t matter though, because my remark makes her calm and that sweet smile comes back.
I clear my throat, smoothing the napkin on my lap and trying to remember what Mrs. Harper, my favorite teacher in tenth grade taught me. “‘Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought,” I look into her eyes and try to say the second part correctly, “and the thought has found words.’ I believe it was Frost who said that.” Her entire demeanor changes to one of surprise and ease. I’m shocked that I remembered it myself.
A sweet smile looks back at me. It’s amazing how something so small can make her genuinely happy. She nods and says, “Yes, I do believe you’re right.”
The moment between us is filled with a comfortable silence as we each take a sip of our drinks.
“So what do you do?” she asks.
“I’m a property developer,” I answer shortly. I don’t think she has any idea of the connections. I don’t intend to lie to her, but I don’t need to give her anything to help her connect the dots.
“Oh, in the city?”
“Brooklyn mostly, although we’re currently under contract with the city to renovate and rebuild some properties in Manhattan.”
“Oh wow, what’s that like?”
“Being a developer?” I’ve never had anyone ask me that before. “It’s… challenging at times, and it pisses me off most days.” I smirk at her as she laughs into her glass at my answer. “Isn’t that what all jobs are like though?”
She nods her head, setting the glass down but then her expression changes.
Imperfect (Sins and Secrets Series of Duets Book 1) Page 7
