“Hi, Mum,” he whispers, attempting to cover his conversation, but come on—we are sitting at a two-seater table in an empty café. If he didn’t want me to hear, he should’ve taken his call outside.
“Yes . . . Yes, I wore the vest . . .” Well . . . that explains the outfit.
My eyes wander over to the counter, and I find Tate watching me. He raises his eyebrows at Cole, who is still chatting to his mum about God knows what, and I smile sheepishly.
“Okay, Mum . . . Yes . . . Yes . . . Love you, too, Mummy.” He whispers the last bit. What. The. Fuck?
Did I just hear that? Did that just happen? I look around frantically, wondering if I’m going crazy, but my eyes land on Tate once more who is standing frozen, holding a cup and towel in his hand but not drying it. His eyes are wide and his mouth is hanging open. Yep, he heard it. I didn’t imagine it. That did just happen.
“Sorry,” Cole says. “It was my mum.”
“Really?” I shriek. My voice is high-pitched and squeaky, and I try to clear my throat. “Really?” I say, a bit more depth to my tone. “So, you are really close to her.”
“Most definitely. She is the most wonderful woman I know. When I think about my future wife and what I want in the mother of my children, all I see is my mother.”
Ewwwwwww. Is this guy for real? He has crossed the line of mummy’s boy into something way past unhealthy. Freud would have a field day with this one.
“She had a few questions she wanted me to ask you,” Cole says, his head held high and voice confident. “Just simple questions. Like where do you see yourself in five years?”
“What?” I choke on the sip of tea I just took.
“Where do you . . .”
“No, I heard you; I’m just shocked. It’s quite a loaded question for a coffee date.”
“Well, Mummy just thinks . . .”
I zone out. Like, completely zone out. I look down at my drink, my grip so tight I’m sure I’m about to smash it between my now white-knuckled fingers.
My movements become robotic. Lift cup. Bring to mouth. Take drink. Swallow. Lower back to table. Repeat.
The rest of the date continues like this. Cole throws his mother’s questions at me, question after question. Will I work, or be a stay at home mother? What do my parents do? What were my grades like? I’m surprised he hasn’t asked for a blood test.
I guzzle my coffee as quickly as possible, burning my mouth with the hot liquid, wanting the interrogation to stop. Thank God we did not order food. He keeps talking; my mum is so this, my mum is so that . . . Good God, the woman rivals Mother Theresa.
Tapping my fingers on the table, I wait for Cole to take a breath so I can make an excuse to leave. It’s been sitting on the edge of my tongue for the past twenty minutes while he’s been going on and on about his mummy.
I decide to wait no longer. “Well, I must be going.” I grab my purse and stand.
“Oh, oh sure, right,” Cole stutters.
“It was great to meet you.” I don’t bother with any niceties such as a proper goodbye or even a handshake as I turn on my heels and exit the café without looking back. I know I’ve left a stunned Cole sitting there watching after me.
I make a lap around the block before I peek back inside the café windows to make sure he has gone. There is no sign of him so I head back inside.
Tate faces the back wall but must have been expecting me, as I spot a fresh chai tea latte on the counter in front of a stool.
“Decaf,” he says, his back still facing me.
“Thanks,” I mutter as I slip onto the stool and take a sip.
“Did that just happen?”
“Yeah, that really happened,” I say casually, not even shocked by another disaster of a date.
Tate shakes his head as he disassembles the coffee machine for cleaning, and I can’t help but burst into laughter.
“What?” He spins around with a concerned look on his face.
My laughter gets louder and slightly manic. Tate narrows his eyes at me as I try to get some words out between my hysterics. “These . . . dates . . . don’t . . . even . . .” I must look complete loony. “ . . . shock . . . me . . . anymore . . .” I continue laughing.
“Well, they shock the shit out of me. I can’t believe you would rather keep doing this than agreeing to go on a date with me.”
I bring my laughter down to a normal level by taking a few deep breaths. Tate flirts with me constantly, and has even boldly asked me to go home with him, but not once has he asked me out.
“You haven’t actually asked me on a date.” I raise my eyebrows. “All you’ve offered is your dick.”
His annoyed expression wears off as a grin takes over his face. “Harper, will you go on a date with me?”
“No,” I state. “You’re not my type.”
“Really? Because the way you look at me suggests otherwise.”
“Oh please, you know what you look like. I’m sure every girl in a hundred-mile radius looks at you like that. Married ones, old ones, all of them.”
“So, what? You want to take me up on my offer of my dick? Because trust me, Daisy, that offer is still on the table.” His smile is devilish.
“Tell me why you call me Daisy or stop doing it,” I snap at him, trying to hide the blush his comment about taking up his offer has caused.
Tate leans over the counter, his mouth barely an inch from my ear. “What’s wrong, Daisy?” He emphasises his nickname for me. “Does the name really bother you, or is it the fact you want to take me up on my offer?” His warm breath flows over my neck and send shivers down my spine. My body trembles, and Tate leans back as he gives me a huge cocky grin.
Smooth talker, just as I’d thought. He is just another man who will say anything to get into a woman’s pants.
No matter how bad I want him, how much he affects me, or how much my body responds to his presence alone, I have to fight it.
“So tell me, Tate, are you a mummy’s boy?” Harper raises her eyebrows, leaning back on her stool. I can tell she is trying to put some distance between us. The electricity surrounding us is explosive. How does she affect me like that, even with a counter separating us?
“Nah.” I laugh as I rub at the back of my neck. I consider letting Harper see a side of me I don’t let anyone else see. No one but Lana and Maurice, anyway.
Since Stacey, I have held women at a safe distance. I’m not even close to being the asshole or player that Harper thinks I am. I just don’t get too attached to women because I don’t need the drama. I don’t make promises of love and commitment, and I don’t allow them to infiltrate my life. I always call after sex and don’t have a certain number of dates before I cut them off, but the reality is, eventually it will end and we are both always clear about it.
Harper would probably fall off her stool if I told her I’ve never had a one-night stand. I have no interest in bringing home a random stranger, sleeping with her, and dealing with the awkwardness after. Even worse—fucking and running on some nameless girl in a club.
“Sure,” Harper teases, her eyes twinkle with amusement.
“I didn’t really know my mum.” Her eyes narrow in confusion as she waits for me to continue. I release a deep sigh and relax my shoulders. “My parents died when I was five years old.”
The corners of Harpers mouth immediately turn down and pity lines her face. “I’m sorry, Tate.”
“Please, don’t pity me. It’s hard to miss someone you don’t really remember, and you can’t long for something you don’t know.” It comes out harsher than I‘d intended and Harper’s face turns troubled. “Fuck,” I breathe out as I place my hands on the counter. “That sounds so cold and fucked-up.”
“No, it doesn’t,” Harper jumps in. “It’s your reality, and I understand what you mean. I’m sorry I reacted like that.” She whispers the words, leaning forward and placing her hand over mine.
Her hand is small and soft and I want to wrap it up in my rough tattooe
d one. Instead, I stand frozen as she rubs her thumb back and forth over my knuckles. The warmth and comfort it brings surprising me.
“I think it bothers me more than I like to let on that I don’t remember much about my parents. I have one memory of my dad walking in the house, holding a briefcase. I assume he was coming home from work.” I pause for a quick moment, probably not noticeable to Harper, as I enjoy her touch still resting on my hand. “I have a few more of my mum. Her putting me to bed; cooking us dinner; pushing me on the swings at the park . . . But I don’t remember her voice or the way she smelt. In reality, the only reason I remember what they look like is probably because of all the pictures my grandparents had up at their house.”
Harpers nods. “You mentioned your grandfather before. Is that where you ended up? You know . . . after your parents . . .” She pulls her hand away, leaning back, and my shoulders drop at the loss of her comfort.
“Died. It’s okay, Harper, you can say it.” I look down, missing the warmth of her hand.
She nods again as we sit in silence for a moment, Harper looking down at her fidgeting fingers on the counter while I study everything about her—her long neck, her petite figure, her slender nose and her full lips.
“Yes,” I answer her earlier question, my voice causing her to look up at me. The frown on her face tells me she has forgotten she’d even asked a question.
“Yes, we went to live with my grandparents after my parents passed away.”
Harper stares at me, biting her lip as she waits for more.
“I don’t miss having a mum and dad because my grandparents did such a good job of filling those roles that I couldn’t possibly wish for more. They made it to every school event, every swimming meet, helped us with homework every night . . . They were there for everything.”
“They sound pretty wonderful.” She gives me the sweetest smile.
“They were.”
Her face drops and I chuckle. This is not going how I had planned or how I wanted it to. “Please, don’t be sad, Daisy. There’s no sad story; they were old. They had wonderful, full, long lives.”
She tries to smile, but in actual fact, it looks as if she has swallowed something sour.
I reach across the counter and grasp her chin, rubbing my thumb across her bottom lip. “You are way too beautiful to frown like that. You should always be smiling, Daisy.”
Red floods her cheeks, and I can’t help the huge grin that overtakes my face at her reaction to me. She puts on a strong front, but I’m pretty sure I could make her melt. I’m almost positive she’s started thawing already.
I decide to let her off the hook and not push any further. Stepping back, I lean against the counter behind me and cross my arms over my chest. I follow her eyes as they go straight to my crossed forearms, showing off all my ink.
“So, tell me, Daisy, what about you? Are you a daddy’s girl?” I smirk, trying to lighten the moment.
She lets out a rambunctious laugh, and it’s one I haven’t heard from her before. It’s so beautiful and contagious I can’t help but laugh along with her, even though I have no idea what we are laughing at.
“What?” I ask.
“I am probably the furthest thing from a daddy’s girl there is. What would that be? Oh yeah, a total and utter disappointment.” Her sarcastic tone is laced with distaste but her face is calm . . . accepting.
“Daisy, I doubt you could disappoint anyone.”
She rolls her eyes. “Trust me; I’m a constant letdown. My father is the minster in our small backwards town. I was their miracle baby.” She glances away for a moment. “You know the story. Couple tries to have baby for years with no luck and once they give up? Boom, she’s pregnant.” Harper laughs manically. “I think if they knew then what they know now, they wouldn’t have called me their miracle.”
“Harper,” I admonish her, a little shocked by her belief in their lack of love for her. I don’t have to know her or her parents to know it’s probably not true. Is this the cause of all her insecurities? She doesn’t think she deserves better?
“I think I just wasn’t what they expected, that’s all. I was loud, sassy, and independent. Look at me.” She gestures to herself. “I don’t exactly fit the small-town mould.”
I smile as I think of her when she first walked in here tonight, and her perfect ass in those skin-tight jeans. No, she definitely doesn’t give off the minister’s daughter vibe.
“They found it . . . hard to understand me, that’s all.” Her smile is sad, and I want to jump over the counter and wrap her up in my arms. Make her feel worthy. Understood.
“The same as I’m sure you struggled to understand them,” I say softly.
She stares directly into my eyes before she nods in thought, and I see the notion taking shape in her mind.
It’s over in a split second, and Harper shakes her head as she slips off the stool. “Well, I better get going; it’s getting late.”
She walks towards the front door, and I watch her tight ass as she sways her hips in that way she does. Does she even realise she’s doing it? Is it on purpose? Is she trying to tease me? Because hell, it’s working.
“I’ll see you for tomorrow night’s date,” she says over her shoulder.
“Yeah, sure.” I nod.
It takes me a second before I realise what she means. No, not a date with me—a date with another man. Another douchebag, I’m sure.
Leaning back against the counter, I watch as she exits. She doesn’t look back at me again and something inside me is disappointed. Releasing a deep breath, I turn around and finish cleaning the coffee machine.
I don’t know why I made the stupid suggestion of helping her with her online dating. What did I want to happen? To find myself a new BFF? Did I think this was going to land me a date with her?
Maybe I shouldn’t have played the bad boy. Just seeming like I wanted to screw her. I came on way too strong, and clearly, it has scared her off.
Fuck, I’m headed straight for the friend zone.
I arrive at the café right on time the following night. After the heaviness between Tate and me last night, I didn’t want to face him. Didn’t want him throwing me off-balance before my date.
Luckily, as I enter the café I spot a young guy sitting by himself. I glance at Tate, who is running an order through the register, and give him a small questioning smile. He nods at the guy to let me know that yes, it is whom I’m here to meet.
I’m a little thrown off as I head to the table, which is not my usual, but I take it as a good sign. Let’s face it; I haven’t had the best of luck at my normal table anyway.
“Shane?” My voice shakes with nerves. You would think I would be more confident on date number four, but now my anxiety comes from anticipated failure. What crazy am I going to be exposed to tonight?
“Harper.” Shane stands, holding his hand out to me. I shake it, and my nerves settle as he gives me a warm smile. “Thanks for agreeing to meet me, even though we haven’t been talking for long. I know the Internet can be an uneasy environment for women.”
Tilting my head, I look him up and down as I take my seat. I try to picture his profile, but the age part is always blurred. I’m sure he was older but his looks and his actions seem so young. “So let’s talk then. Tell me about yourself. What was it you did again?”
“I don’t think we’ve even really discussed it.” He chuckles. “I’m studying computer programming at the moment.”
“Studying? Did you change career?”
“No.”
“Did you start study late?” I’m sure he has to be around twenty-eight to thirty years old. How long does a computer course take?
“No, I’ve been studying since I left high school. I’ve done a few courses now. I love the life, you know.”
Someone snorts beside me. I look up to see Tate delivering my usual chai tea latte, laughing at Shane’s love for the college life, and I giggle.
Realising what I’m doing, I quickly
school my features. “Yeah, definitely, it’s the life,” I say, seriously. Tate’s laughter is loud as he walks away from the table, but for once, I don’t stare after him. “So, how do you go living like that, though? I mean, all I remember about college is living in a shitty apartment and working my ass off, trying to make rent while studying.” I chuckle. “I don’t particularly have fond memories of it.” I purse my lips as it occurs to me I still live an eerily similar way of life—I’m in a shitty apartment, trying to make rent each month.
“Oh no, I live in my parents’ basement,” he says. “Don’t even have to work because they let me live there rent-free and give me an allowance. I’m just . . . living the dream.”
A loud cackle of laughter comes from the kitchen, and I can clearly tell it’s from Maurice and Tate.
I nod at Shane with a serious expression. “Yeah, sounds like you’re really kicking goals.”
He smiles and nods back in total agreement, and I have to bite my lip to hold the laughter in.
I decide to make the most of the fifteen minutes it will take me to drink this coffee before I can leave. “So, you said computer programming. Like what? Setting up companies systems or something?”
“No, like game programming.” I tilt my head in question and he continues. “There’s this game, World of Warcraft.” I nod along, even though I have no idea what he is talking about. “It’s an online role-playing game.”
What? Is he talking about some kind of porno game of pretend? My wide eyes must speak volumes of confusion as Shane spends the next twenty minutes telling me all about this “World of Warcraft.”
He goes on and on about avatars, quests, battles, and levels. He talks about player-versus-environment realms and joining guilds.
I nod along the whole time. The only thing I get from the conversation is that Shane is a huge loser who lives in his parents’ basement and plays WOW, as he calls it, all day and night. And apparently, he pays for it, too. God knows how he manages that without a job. Oh, that’s right, his allowance.
“Well, I better get going,” I interrupt his spiel about skills, abilities, and professions. Things that apparently don’t matter to him in the real world. “I’ve got an early start for work in the morning.”
Whatever You Do Page 6
