by I. T. Lucas
Later, when the last customer had left, and she flipped the sign on the door to closed, the enormity of what she’d agreed to hit her hard.
God, was she nervous. Thirty years old and clueless, how embarrassing.
Everyone assumed that only the painfully unattractive or the severely socially-awkward people remained alone, never having experienced a relationship with the opposite sex. The truth was, though, that she wasn’t a rare exception. Like many others—some even famous, like Jane Austen—she was a victim of circumstances. One thing had led to the next, and before she knew it, she was entering her third decade as a virgin.
And it wasn’t even Tut’s fault, not completely, even though she liked to blame him for it.
It might have been true in high school, but by the time she’d entered college, she’d learned to hide her crazy—a Bluetooth earpiece providing the perfect cover for whenever she’d slipped.
At first, thinking she had plenty of time ahead of her, Nathalie had taken things slowly, or rather not at all, too scared to start exploring the dating scene. How could she have known that her college days were numbered? That her good, reliable Papi would need her to step in and take care of not only his business, their only source of income, but also himself.
Since then, it had all been one big blur of work and more work. Andrew was like the first ray of light to penetrate the fog that had overtaken her life.
Wrong verb, Nathalie, oh, boy, really wrong.
Conjuring the image of Andrew doing a penetrating of a different sort, she felt like laughing hysterically, and she would’ve if not for her father. She should be excited, should look forward to finally experiencing what a woman her age should’ve been experiencing for at least a decade.
Instead, she was terrified.
Not of the act itself, but of admitting to Andrew that she was still a virgin. Like there was something wrong with her. Like there had been no one who’d ever wanted her.
Shit.
But that was the thing, there was something wrong with her—she was a freaking loon—Nutty Nattie. And as to not being wanted? She’d never given anyone a chance to get close enough to find out.
That being said, though, Nathalie was pretty sure that upon discovering the truth about her any normal guy would’ve run so fast he would’ve left skid marks on the pavement.
As would Andrew. And it was going to hurt like hell.
Maybe she should lock the door and pretend like she wasn’t there. Andrew didn’t have her phone number so there wasn’t much he could do other than knock.
Eventually, he’d give up and leave.
Chapter 24: Andrew
“Nathalie, open up, it’s me, Andrew.” Paper bags under each arm, Andrew had no choice but to tap the door with his shoe instead of knocking.
Had she gone upstairs and couldn’t hear him?
It was damn embarrassing to stand outside her shop and call her name, but there was no doorbell. And in his stupidity he’d forgotten to ask for her phone number. True, he had it written down in the file he’d compiled about her, but the thing was in the office. And anyway, receiving a call from him, when she hadn’t given it, would’ve creeped her out.
Worse, she would’ve suspected him of being a stalker.
He kicked the door again, more forcefully this time, the bells hanging on the inside jingling as it rattled. She must’ve heard those.
“Nathalie! Open up!” he called again when another minute passed.
“Coming!”
Hearing her finally answer him, Andrew let out a relieved breath. For a moment there, a disconcerting thought had flitted through his mind that she wasn’t going to let him in.
He must’ve been nervous. Or perhaps excited.
It was, after all, their first date, so to speak. It wasn’t that he lacked confidence, or feared making a fool of himself. At his age, after having been on the dating scene for so long, Andrew had accumulated countless first dates under his belt and had it down to a fail-proof formula. He could charm the pants off a woman in less than an hour, two tops.
But there was something about Nathalie that made him feel like a teenager again. A freshness. An innocence. Which was peculiar since she was a grown woman of thirty, living in one of the largest metropolitan areas in the world, and not some young, small town girl.
Perhaps it was her character.
He’d met a few people like that over the years—the eternal Peter Pans and Pollyannas, who somehow retained their youthful predisposition regardless of the date of birth listed on their driver licenses and in spite of the hardships life had thrown at them.
No, on further reflection, this wasn’t it either.
True, Nathalie didn’t let her troubles bring her down, but she wasn’t overly cheerful either.
In any case, it was too early for him to form an opinion about her, one way or another. This was what people were supposed to do on dates, learn about each other. Although these days, it seemed as if dating was more about finding the shortest route to bed than building rapport.
Not this time.
With Nathalie, Andrew intended to be the perfect gentleman and focus on learning as much as he could about her. The exploration of her smoking hot body would have to wait for another time.
The bells on the door chimed as Nathalie threw it open. A guilty look washed over her face when she saw the paper bags under his arms. “I’m so sorry that I kept you waiting outside. I was in the bathroom and didn’t hear you knocking.”
A lie.
Not a biggie, it had happened to him before on other dates. Wanting to make a good impression on him, she’d probably been hard at work, straightening things upstairs in a hurry. No girl wanted a guy to know that she was messy, and that her place wasn’t immaculate at all times.
“No problem.” He smiled and waited for her to open the door all the way to make room for him.
For some reason, she hesitated for a moment before doing so. Was she still afraid of him?
Yeah, probably.
He didn’t fault her hesitancy. A woman, who for all intents and purposes was living alone, should be wary of inviting strange men to her home.
One man, just one.
Whoa, where has that come from? Jealous, some?
Andrew shook his head. This was new.
He had no idea that there was a secret caveman living inside him. One who had been biding his time, evidently, and just waiting for Andrew to develop some sort of feelings for a woman before raising up his stupid head at the mere thought of another male with her.
Andrew used to mock his friends for this sort of thing, thinking it would never happen to him.
“Follow me.” Nathalie circled the counter to get to the kitchen. “You can put the Chinese in the fridge over there.”
He did as she’d instructed, taking out the various containers and putting them on a shelf inside her commercial fridge.
“This one is for upstairs.” He motioned to the last bag which contained a movie, two bottles of wine, and a small box of chocolates.
“What’s in there?” She peeked. “Oh, wine and chocolates…” She cast him a glance that seemed two parts worried to one part excited.
He’d better put on his most friendly, unthreatening, boy-next-door face.
Andrew shrugged and smiled broadly. “Those are just to emphasize that this is a date. If I can’t take you out to dine you and wine you, I want to at least provide the second part.”
“Oh… that’s very sweet of you,” she said in a small voice.
What is it with the sweet again? He wanted to roll his eyes. In his opinion, he was as far from sweet as a mostly good guy got.
“I got Star Wars.” He pulled out the movie to show her.
Nathalie’s eyes brightened, and she clapped her hands. “Oh, goodie, I’ve wanted to see it forever. Follow me.” She crossed the kitchen, going toward the back door, where a small corridor led up to a narrow staircase.
Andrew had been wondering where it
was hidden, assuming that it must be at the back of the building but speculating that it was attached to its exterior. He was relieved to see that the staircase to the second floor was inside the structure, so Nathalie and her dad weren’t risking late night forays into the secluded alley just to go up to their apartment or down to their café.
The advanced age of the building was more evident in the back where less care had been given to appearances. The back door was small, its white paint cracked and faded, and the stairs they were climbing would not have been permitted by today’s standards. For one, they were too narrow, and second, too steep—each step about a foot tall. The climb must’ve been hard on Fernando’s old knees.
The stairs terminated at a small landing. From there, parallel to the staircase, a narrow corridor led to four doors. The last one was open, and by the intermittent sounds of laughter, Andrew guessed that Fernando was watching a sitcom.
“That’s our TV room.” Her smile was embarrassed. “I’ll move Papi to watch his shows in his room.”
Awkward.
Even though Andrew wasn’t planning on any hanky panky, it wouldn’t be much of a date with her father around. On the other hand, kicking Fernando out of his TV room wasn’t something that sat well with him either. “I don’t want to make the man uncomfortable in his own house. Perhaps he would like to watch Star Wars with us?”
Nathalie blushed, a pretty pink shade spreading over her high cheekbones. “It’s okay, he wouldn’t mind. There is only one couch in there, and I don’t think it could sit the three of us comfortably. It’s rather on the smaller side.”
“Okay then, lead the way.” He waved his hand and followed her into the room.
Before Nathalie had converted it into a den, it must’ve been a bedroom, and a small one at that. Smack across from the door, he could see the back alley through its only window, and under it, two folded tray tables were leaning against the cream-colored wall—their dark cherry wood contrasting with the soft earth tones of everything else in the room. On one side, was the couch she’d mentioned, and across from it, a thirty-five-inch flat screen that stood on its own built-in stand and seemed much larger in the cramped space. In between, there were no more than six or seven feet of floor space.
The couch looked inviting, though, upholstered in some velvety fabric with large fluffy cushions at its back. A throw blanket was draped over one arm, and a soft rug covered the old hardwood floor. All in all, not bad.
Nathalie’s den was tiny, but it exuded warmth and comfort.
Seated on the couch, Fernando lifted his head as Nathalie entered, a smile spreading across his wrinkled face.
“Papi, this is Andrew, my friend.” She rested her hand on Andrew’s arm and extended the other toward her father. “Andrew, meet my father, Fernando Vega.”
Andrew walked over to the old man and extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
Fernando shook what he offered, his old calloused hand surprisingly strong for a man who looked quite feeble. “Yes, nice of you to come visit Nathalie, young man. She missed you, you know, while you were away.”
Okay… what was he supposed to say to that? Andrew cast Nathalie a sidelong glance.
“Just roll with it,” she mouthed.
“I’m here now, sir, and I’m not planning on going anywhere anytime soon.”
“Good.” Fernando nodded and squeezed Andrew’s hand harder.
“Papi, would you mind watching your shows in your bedroom? Andrew and I are going to put on the new Star Wars movie in the DVD player.”
“Of course, sweetheart, you know I don’t like all those futuristic movies with all those robots running around.” With difficulty, Fernando pushed off the couch. Nathalie offered him a hand up, and he took it, though it was clear that he was embarrassed.
“Thank you, dear. These old bones are not what they used to be. Enjoy your movie.” He kissed her cheek and shuffled out of the room.
“That was easy, weird, but easy.” Andrew walked over to the flat screen, unwrapping the DVD case on the way. “Who do you think he thought I was?”
“I have no idea.” Nathalie unfolded one of the tray tables and put it in front of the couch.
“Was there someone you were dating in the past that he liked? Maybe he thought I was that guy?”
Nathalie snorted. “Nope, this is purely his dementia at work.”
Interesting. Fernando had either never met Nathalie’s ex-boyfriends or hadn’t liked any of them.
Andrew wondered why. Had Fernando been one of those overprotective fathers who believed their daughters were too good for mere mortals?
Except, in Nathalie’s case, it was true.
But if Fernando imagined Andrew were that special one, he was mistaken. Regrettably, Andrew was just another nothing-special, ordinary guy.
Chapter 25: Nathalie
They were alone. At last. For the first time.
Stealing a glance at Andrew’s back, Nathalie hoped to get a peek at his behind while he was still turned around, busy fiddling with the DVD.
She smirked. Instead of Nutty Nattie, her new nickname should be Naughty Nattie.
Regrettably, Andrew had come straight from work, wearing the slacks, tie, and jacket his job evidently mandated, so his assets were hidden beneath the back flaps of his blazer. At the moment, the only part of him she could appreciate, other than his handsome face and capable hands, were his strong thigh muscles as they flexed under the thin fabric of his slacks. But then, as he bent down to insert the disc into the player, she finally got to glimpse a little more.
God, he was such a handsome man.
Were his chest and arms as muscular and defined as his lower half?
She wished he’d take off his jacket.
Bad girl, you’re ogling the man like a stallion.
She didn’t need Tut to feel guilty about the way she was objectifying Andrew. Go figure, apparently women could be just as bad as men when checking out the opposite sex.
Nathalie let out a soft sigh and reached into the paper bag Andrew had brought, pulling out one of the wine bottles. What had Andrew been thinking, bringing two? Was he planning on getting her drunk?
Somehow, she knew he wasn’t the type. Maybe the second bottle was for him. She cast him a sidelong glance. “I don’t have wine glasses.”
“Do you have some downstairs? I’ll go and get them.” Andrew straightened up from where he was crouching.
She pulled out the box of chocolates and put them on the tray next to the wine. “No, the only thing I have we can use are tall juice tumblers.”
“Perfect.” He smiled, a friendly smile that at first put her at ease but on second thought worried her.
She didn’t want friendly, platonic, she wanted steamy, exciting.
Nathalie wanted a hot kiss—an epic one like in the movies or in the romance novels she liked reading, one that would make her toes curl.
Last night, in bed, she’d fantasized about it… and much more…
As her cheeks heated up, she turned around to hide the telltale blush. “I’ll go get them. I have some in my room.” She ran out of there as if her tail was on fire.
God, she was usually so good at pushing carnal thoughts away, precisely because of the damn blushing, but she just couldn’t help herself around Andrew. He was so profoundly masculine—not a boy, not a guy, but a real man. The kind every woman wished for. Strong and confident, commanding yet accommodating, respectful…
Oh, boy, hopefully, he wouldn’t respect her too much. Nathalie was desperate for that kiss she’d been fantasizing about for ages, and it was about bloody time she got it.
Even if the initiative would have to come from her.
Did she have the guts, though?
The sight greeting her upon her return had her drooling, and she almost dropped the tumblers she was holding. Andrew had not only removed his jacket but had already rolled up one of his shirt sleeves and was finishing rolling the other. For some reaso
n, his exposed forearms—strong, tanned, and sprinkled with a smattering of dark hair—were incredibly sexy.
With a hard swallow, Nathalie clenched her thighs together to relieve the sudden tingling that had started at their junction.
Lifting his head to look at her, Andrew paused the folding and frowned. “Does this bother you? I can put the jacket back on.”
Shit, she must’ve been gaping like an idiot. “No, of course not. Um… I was just admiring how precise your folds are. Papi could never manage this, even when he was still okay. I used to always undo what he’d done and roll his sleeves for him because he never got it right.”
Okay, saved, blabbering like a silly valley girl, but at least not visibly drooling.
Andrew cocked one brow and finished the last fold he’d been working on. “How did I do?” He extended both arms, bringing his wrists together so the bottoms aligned.
“Perfect.” Her voice sounded breathy even to herself. Great, next she’d be singing Happy Birthday Mr. President in a throaty Marilyn Monroe voice.
“Good, we are almost ready for the movie. I’ll just get rid of this fu…, excuse me, tie.”
Oh, good, so she wasn’t the only one walking on eggshells. “It’s fine. I don’t mind.” She waved a hand that was still holding a tumbler. “I’ll better put these down.”
Andrew took off his tie and added it to his jacket, which he’d draped over the other folded tray table, then grabbed the remote and joined her on the couch.
“My lady.” He handed her the device.
“You’re giving me control of the remote? I heard that no guy would relinquish it without a fight.”
Damn, had she just said heard? Like she’d never watched television with a guy before?
Other than her Papi, that is.
Andrew glossed over her slip. “You heard right, but when wine uncorking is involved, it takes precedence. We Neanderthals have our priorities.”
