by MK Schiller
“Thank you, I like your purple boots.”
“I’m not wearing boots.”
“Not today, but you did the other day. Will you wear them again?”
My jaw dropped. It seemed he remembered my outfits too. “There are very few things they match.”
“I didn’t ask you to wear anything else with them,” he said, cocking his brow.
My stomach felt as if I’d swallowed a swarm of butterflies. “Please stop.”
“So, how did it go with Rod? I noticed you didn’t leave with him.”
I expelled a long breath, happy for the change in topic. “You noticed, huh?”
“Let me share a little truth with you.”
“I’m always up for truth.”
“Derek and I were at the sushi place across the street. I saw you walking into the steakhouse, and I just had to know what a girl like you was doing in a place like that. It wasn’t difficult to talk Derek into a steak.”
“I’m glad I could satisfy your curiosity. Now can we talk about the party like we’re supposed to?”
“I’m listening.”
To his credit, he did listen for the most part. We were half-way through lunch when he asked, “Why did you decide to be a librarian?”
“Why do you want to know?”
He shrugged, propping his chin on his palm. “You’re passionate about it. I just wanted to know how the hunger strike girl came into her profession.”
“I’ve had a lot of jobs, usually simultaneously. I loved this one the best. The people are respectful and it feels like I’m doing something important.”
“What other jobs have you had, Jessie?”
“A ton. I was a waitress, a bartender, a sales girl, a portrait photographer.”
“But this is your favourite?”
“No, being a mother is my favourite job. The pay sucks, but the benefits are like nothing else.”
He smiled, nodding. “Tell me about your kids.”
Those words were magic to a mom. Moms never missed an opportunity to talk about their children. If it was up to me, I’d have a walking billboard of how proud I was of them. So, I did. I talked about my three beautiful, intelligent, funny girls, even telling him my crazy strategy for naming each of them according to the music I was feeling the most during my pregnancy. I also talked about the three boys I’d come to love—Dillon, Adam and Rick. What mother wouldn’t be beaming with joy with a family like that?
“I bet you’re a great mom.”
I cast my eyes down, not wanting him to see the regret in my expression. “My children are amazing, I don’t deserve the credit for that. Let’s get back to this,” I said, tapping my pencil on the invitation list.
He leaned in close to me, dropping his voice. “You should take credit. No one is self-made.”
I didn’t respond and he shifted topics back to the party. I was grateful for that.
I had to stop doing this. Damien was being nice. It was obvious he was attracted to me. I was a conquest to him—a fornication session. He wanted us to participate in that naughty little four letter word. The worst part was that I was considering it, but I didn’t do one-night stands…or any stands for that matter. That part of my life was over.
“So, we’ll have to meet again to iron out the last of the details,” he said when the check came.
“I think we’re all set. I have everything I need. I’ll work with Kelly Harris from here on.” I’d spoken to her on the phone today. I’d sensed her hostility towards me, after I’d explained that I’d met with Damien for lunch several times. I wondered how intimately Damien knew her. Was she a former girlfriend? A surge of jealousy rocked my body. It pissed me off. Damn feelings—always getting in the way of things.
“I want to confirm everything. It’s important that we meet so I can stay in the loop.”
I sighed in relief. The truth was, despite my nerves, I didn’t want our meetings to end. I found myself looking forward to them, wishing the hours would tick by so I could see him again.
“I have a meeting with Kelly next week. Do you want to join us?” As soon as I asked, I regretted the question. I didn’t want to be in the same room with him and a girl he may have had a relationship with.
“No, you can handle that and report back to me.”
Why didn’t he want her to report back to him? She was his employee.
“I can just email you updates.”
“I like one-on-one in person meetings, Jessie. I’m old-fashioned that way.”
How did he always do this? I would have pondered it more, but Damien was still talking.
“I’m very busy next week, so we’ll have to meet for dinner.”
“I think you’re using these meetings as a way to date me, Mr Wolfe.”
He stared at me, the mischievous glint in his eyes growing bolder, making them look like sparking emeralds in the sun. “On the contrary, Jessie. I’ve been thinking a great deal about us.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, and I’ve come to a conclusion that you are absolutely right.”
“About what?”
“Who are we kidding? You are way too old for me.”
Damn…did he really just say that?
“Sure there would be pros to having a relationship with an older woman.” He gestured towards me as if he was explaining his philosophy to a small child. Dear God, he was probably using his library voice. “We’d probably get discounts on meals…but then again, we’d have to eat dinner at four o’clock. We’d get the best parking spots, but I wouldn’t want you driving because I’d get annoyed reminding you that your turn signal was still on from three miles ago. Plus, I’d have to constantly explain how the remote control and other various forms of technology worked.” His voice dropped to low, husky whisper, and he leaned into the table. “And the physical things that go into a relationship…and trust me when I say I’m very physical…those would be impossible. I’d eventually realise you couldn’t keep up with me, and it would be a horrible break up…for you. Of course, you’d keep in touch because I can tell that’s the kind of person you are. I’d probably get a Christmas card every year, and because you’re a grandma, it would have a check for twelve dollars in it, so there’s always that to look forward to.”
Part of me wanted to laugh at his obvious joke, but most of me was fuming. How did he elicit two such opposing emotions at the same time? I inched forward until our faces were mere millimetres apart. “Listen, cocky one, I may be older than you, but I’m certainly no senior citizen.”
He arched an eyebrow, feigning surprise.
Jerk.
“You’re not?”
“No, I’m an active, vivacious woman who would have no problem keeping up with you.”
The tables at the café were small. I think it was so it looked like you got more food. I could feel the warmth of his delicious breath as it fanned my face.
“Then act like it,” he said through gritted teeth, enunciating every word as if it was its own sentence.
He stood up, throwing down a large bill that was enough to cover three meals. “I’ll text you the details of our next meeting.” He turned to leave, but halted a few steps away, looking back at me. “You do know how to use text messaging, right?”
I shot him a scornful glance, not having anything resembling a comeback to throw at him. He left me speechless. I wasn’t sure if I was going to start laughing or swearing based on his remarks. No wonder he was so successful. The man was able to negotiate things without me even realising it. He’d basically made me denounce my own reasons for not dating him.
Sly, smart, sexy…a scandalous combination and a recipe for disaster.
Chapter Nine
Kate tried not to wince as she chewed on the brownie, but it was apparent she was having a hard time with the dessert I’d made. “What the hell is in this?”
It was a normal Friday night…or rather my new normal, since all the kids were gone. We called it Festive Fridays. Kate came over and
we devoured a pitcher of Sangria, painted our nails, ate junk food and crooned along to heavy metal hair bands. Def Leppard was singing about how Love Bites.
Tell me something I don’t know, Joe Elliot.
Judging from Kate’s sour expression, my new recipe was a major fail. I handed her a napkin so she could discreetly spit it out. “They’re made with beans.”
“No wonder they taste like ass,” she said, putting the rest of the brownie back on the plate.
“I hope you’re not speaking from experience,” I said, breaking off a large chunk and eating it. Her disgusted expression just made me chew with more exaggeration.
“Bean brownies, Emmie? Have you gone mad?”
I shrugged. “They’re healthy.”
“Brownies aren’t meant to be healthy.” Kate poured herself more Sangria.
“Mine are.”
Her sarcastic glance was so salty, I had to fetch a glass of water.
“Yeah, well let me give you some advice. You know how they say baking sweets is a good idea when buyers come to see your house?”
“Yes, because it smells homier.”
“Whatever you do, do not make these. No one wants to buy a house that reeks of beans.”
“Nice, I’ll try to remember.”
Her face shifted to a frown as she looked around the living room. She was Adam’s mother, my neighbour and best friend. Our families had been bound together since our children were young. Adam Senior had shown Marley how to throw a softball, Kate and I had worked on every school fundraiser together and we’d even vacationed together those rare times I could swing the funds. She was sad I wasn’t going to be here anymore, but this was for the best. It was time to move on to a new chapter. I was going to say something to that affect, but my cell vibrated before I could get the words out.
I’d admit I’d been stalking my phone, waiting for his text, like a teenage girl with an extra shot of hormones. The message was simple. A location, time and place…nothing else. I did a double-take at the restaurant he’d chosen. It wasn’t what I’d expected at all. Then again, the man was never predictable. I’d heard of the hip new adult arcade complete with its own restaurant and bar—the kind of place that served liquor and food in plastic baskets—but that’s not to say it was cheap. Credit cards were required to play the games because they were expensive, each one a mini virtual reality experience.
“I know that look. What’s up?” Kate said, staring over my shoulder. “Do you have a date?”
I chuckled. “No, not really.” It was no use keeping things from Kate. She knew me too well. She knew about the charity dinner for the library so I just filled her in on Damien’s involvement. I skimmed over his flirting and the reactions I’d had, but Kate was no fool. She read me like a sensational newspaper headline.
“This isn’t the kind of place you meet for a business dinner.”
“I know. I’m not sure if it’s a date.”
“Wow, Damien fucking Wolfe…nice catch, Emmie.”
“You know who he is?”
“Hell yes, and the man is hot. I saw him once on the social pages, not too long ago. He had a supermodel next to him.”
I swallowed hard, trying to choke down the bitter taste in my mouth. I knew as much from my own research. It wasn’t surprising he dated supermodels. Hell, if I made a top ten list of perfect men, he’d fill every spot. I wanted him to fill my spot. Fuck…how did my mind get so raunchy?
I laughed, but it came out a nervous, jittery noise. “I’m not interested.”
“Why not? The man is incredibly gorgeous, rich as hell, and he has such a good reputation. You know he volunteers for Habitat for Humanity every year. I mean he actually works in the hot sun, putting on roofs and dry walling and shit. He writes them a check too, but he’s pretty hands-on.”
Hands-on… Damn the visual of Damien shirtless, in the hot baking sun, hammering away…it was too much.
“I’m older than him.”
“That’s just another feather for your cap, Em. From what you’ve said, it doesn’t matter to him.”
“It does to me, besides, I haven’t had sex in a really long time. Like over a decade,” I reasoned, not sure why I was whispering.
“Your kids are all out of the house. You don’t have to whisper.”
Oh yeah, that’s why.
“Even if they were here, judging from that awkward conversation last weekend, I’m pretty sure they already know that.”
“That’s true.”
“It may have been a while, however, you’ll find that things still work the same. There haven’t been too many technological advances. Of course, a man like Damien Wolfe probably has a few positions I don’t know about. I wouldn’t worry too much though. I bet you catch on real quick.” She snapped her fingers. “I know, I’ll demonstrate.” She grabbed the napkin ring on the table and began folding my cloth napkin into what I assumed was meant to be a penis shape. I snatched the items from her before she could make that embarrassing visual.
“Thanks for all your wisdom, but I don’t need a tutorial.”
“Then what’s the hang up?”
“I’m no cougar. And I’m so out of practice, and he’s so…advanced. I can’t handle him.”
“It’s a state of mind, not body.”
“Maybe so, but I think if I started doing it with young guys, I’d have to change my lifestyle.”
“How so?”
“You know, I’d have to start wearing leopard print, lots of jewellery, do the big hair thing and drink wine in the afternoon…from a box.” It was a joke, but Kate thought I was being serious.
“Jesus, Emmie, do you seriously think that’s what it means to be a cougar?”
“Of course not, but there is a certain self-assurance that goes along with it. I can joke and flirt, but I seriously lack the claws to be one of those women.”
“Fine, but if you don’t want him, then do the right thing and give him to someone who knows what they’re doing. Like say, your best friend in the whole world.” She tilted her head, giving me a hopeful expression that made me burst with laughter.
“Don’t you think Adam Senior would have an issue with that?”
“Nah, I’ll let him have Kate Winslet.” She rubbed her hands together. “Now we just have to talk Kate into it.”
“I didn’t know Adam Senior was a Kate Winslet fan.”
“Yeah, he’s got a crush on her. It’s partially self-preservation though. He wouldn’t have to keep our names straight.”
“You’re so generous, Kate.”
“You know who I think is generous? You, you stupid girl. You have to be to let a hot man like that slip through your fingers, letting another woman scoop him up. Are you trying to win a humanitarian award or something?”
I shook my head. “It’s not selfless… My motives are pure…purely selfish.”
Kate stared at me quizzically.
“A man like Damien Wolfe is as dangerous as meth—highly addictive and devastating. And you know the best way to stay off drugs right?”
“What?”
“Just say no.”
“This is what happens when you grow up in the Nancy Regan era.”
Chapter Ten
My jeans were tight, but not skin tight. Still, they made my ass look good. I paired them with a white peasant blouse and, per his request, my favourite faux-suede purple boots. I went with rose-coloured sun-glasses. Yes, I actually owned a pair. Every girl needed to look through rose-coloured glasses once in a while, especially when dining with Damien Wolfe. Let him talk about checks for twelve dollars and early suppers tonight.
He was waiting for me in a secluded booth in a desolate corner of the otherwise crowded restaurant, dressed in dark jeans, a black Henley and a baseball cap with the old-world D—the Detroit Tiger’s emblem. Damn…he looked manly even through the pink undertones of my lenses. I slid into the seat across from him.
“I like the glasses,” he said. “Almost as much as the boots.�
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I smirked, pleased with my choice. “I like your cap.”
“Are you a fan?”
Yes, of yours. “I’m from Chicago so if I’m rooting for a team, it’s the Cubs.”
“I admire your loyalty. We all have to represent.”
“I didn’t expect you to pick a place like this.”
“I love this place. I hope you don’t mind it gets noisy in here. I know how you people are.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You people?”
A smug smile graced his lips. “Old people. You like it quiet.”
“Okay, no more insults. I swear to God.”
He bit his lower lip. “I’m sorry, how about some flattery?”
“I don’t need my ego stroked.”
He chuckled. “What area would you like stroked?”
Shit. This was a bad idea. I’d thought he was flirty before, but tonight he’d come out flinging innuendos like Frisbees.
“I brought the invoices for your approval.”
“Later.”
“Can we be professional, please?”
“Says the girl with the pink sunglasses. You are so challenging.” He had a point.
“I’m not a challenge for you.”
“I didn’t say you were. I said you were challenging.”
I opened the menu, choosing to cover my face with it again because I was pretty sure it was a few shades deeper than my eyewear at that moment. I scanned it, knowing there would be very little I could eat in a place like this.
The waitress came to our table, dropping a smaller menu in front of me, “Miss Mason, here is the vegan menu,” she said. I was shocked they had a special menu, never mind that she knew my name. I was lucky to find one dish to eat at most restaurants let alone have a whole menu.
“I can’t believe they have a vegan menu,” I said when she left.
“They don’t. I had the chef create one.”
My jaw dropped so low, I could have swallowed a lemon. “And they did?”
“They sort of had to, seeing that I own the place. Just like I own Club Cassbar where we first met. Remember that night? You, me, Rodriguez.”
Hell yeah, I remembered that night. “Thank you for this,” I said, pointing to the menu. “It was very considerate.”
