by Evelyn Sola
“I promise you there’s nothing tiny about it.” Her eyes widen at my words, and I see a small smile on her lips.
“So you say,” she says as she arches her eyebrows and waits for me to speak.
Losing complete control of my words, I say, “Care to find out?”
I want to kick myself the minute the words are out of my mouth. Expecting her to recoil in disgust, walk away, and tell her mother what a pig I am; I’m surprised when she inches closer to me, gets on her toes and whispers in my ear, “You couldn’t handle it if I did.” Her warm breath hits the shell of my ear, catching me off guard. I turn to look at her. Her eyes are playful, but they are issuing a challenge.
“I promise you, it’s not me who wouldn’t be able to handle it. I’d probably end up pealing you off the ceiling.”
She studies me, her eyes boring into mine. After several seconds, she smirks at me and returns to her drink.
“I guess we’ll never know. Pity.”
“Right. Because of my lack of melanin. Listen, Miranda,” I say, liking the sound of her name, “I promise you,” I say as I lean down and whisper in her ear. She shudders at the movement. “You wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. Being with a man for the first time.” She twists her mouth at my words, but before she can counter, and because I know what she’s about to say, I talk first. “The boys who came before me don’t count. Melanin, or the lack thereof, is the least of our problems.”
She puts a hand in her hair and twirls a piece between her fingers.
“We don’t have a problem, Mr. Bain.” She gestures between us. “I’m here with my mother, and after tonight, we won’t ever see each other again. But I admit that our kitchen table talk will be a lot more interesting now that I can put a face to the name. Before tonight, I just imagined Satan. Red face. Crooked and jagged teeth. Horns or however Satan looks.”
She turns back to face the bar, and I close the space between us. I stand next to her, as close as possible without our bodies touching. I wave to the bartender, and he hands me one of the red signature drinks.
“Everything in your life is about to get more interesting, Miranda, not just dinnertime gossip.”
She flares her nostrils, and before she can give me a smart response, Mona comes over, practically dragging a young man behind her. He’s not someone who works for us, but he’s clean-cut and looks closer to Miranda’s age than I do. And according to what she just told me about her preferences, he seems like he’d be perfect for her.
“Miranda, this is Glen. He’s Sherry’s nephew. The one I told you about. Isn’t he handsome?” Mona asks, clearly embarrassing Glen and Miranda. Her eyes widen at her mother, and I do my best not to laugh as she tries to have a conversation just with her eyes. Mona seems oblivious. “He’s a bio major and will hopefully start medical school next fall,” Mona says with an exaggerated wink.
I can see the irritation in Miranda’s eyes and feel the tension radiating off her body, but she smiles politely at Glen and shakes his hand. He looks just as irritated as Miranda. Then, for the first time in weeks, Mona voluntarily speaks to me. “We should let the young kids talk, don’t you think, Mr. Bain? Why don’t you come and hang out with the folks your own age? Come on. Steve’s wife and a few other guests are dying to meet you.”
She takes my hand and practically pulls me away from the only interesting person at this party.
“Stay away from my daughter,” she hisses as she drags me away. “Let her get to know that boy. You’re way too old. She’s off-limits.”
Now, it’s my turn to be irritated at her insinuation. The folks she leads me to are at least twenty years older than I am, and the fake smile plastered on Mona’s face does not prevent the hostile looks she throws my way.
I listen with half an ear as the people around me talk about their holiday plans. I’d walk away right now, but Uncle Joe is watching me from across the room, likely smiling in approval at my forced attempts at social interaction, and Mona would likely tackle me to the floor the minute I take a step toward the only person at this party I want to talk to. But my eyes never leave Miranda and that asshole Glen.
Even from across the room, I can see they would make a good-looking couple. They’re about the same age, and according to what she just said to me minutes ago, he’s her type. Add the seal of approval from her mother, and I should bow out because this is one complication I do not need, but I don’t care.
He’s talking to her, and she’s listening, but she doesn’t look at him the way she looked at me. She doesn’t touch him the way she touched me. From their body language, I know they are not exchanging witty repartee. To my relief, she doesn’t touch him at all, but she does something with him she didn’t do with me. She laughs so hard, she has to use a napkin to dab at her eyes. He laughs too, shaking his head and shrugging his shoulders.
When the bartender hands him a drink, they clink their glasses together, which completely pisses me off.
CHAPTER 5
MIRANDA
“Are you serious?” I ask Glen as I get control of my laughter.
“Do you think I would make up something like that? Sherry totally tricked me into coming to this party. She offered to take me out to dinner for my birthday, which is today. As soon as we got on the highway, she told me the truth, but by then, she had locked me in the car. She stole my phone so I can’t Uber home.”
“I’m sorry,” I say between laughs. “That totally sounds like something my mom would do.”
“She promises to make me my favorite dinner tomorrow night, so I guess I can let it slide. Besides, meeting you makes it worth it.” I blush at his words and look away, but unfortunately, I look right into the eyes of Nick Bain. Even from across the room, I can see the funny and somewhat charming guy I just talked to is gone. His face is tight, and despite standing in a group of people, I know he’s only paying attention to me. He looks at me, then turns his head toward Glen, who is completely oblivious to the death glare he’s getting from across the room. Then Nick looks back and me and mouths “no.”
Taken aback by his audacity, I look away from him and focus on Glen, who is extremely good-looking with an easy smile and deep voice. His brown eyes are warm, and unlike Nick, he lacks that predatory look.
He offers me his arm, which I take, and we walk around the room, exchanging stories about college life while eating appetizers along the way.
Nick Bain watches us the entire time, and I do my best to stay away from him, but every time I look his way, our eyes catch. Even if he’s engaged in conversation, our eyes are like magnets whenever I look in his direction. It’s almost like he knows when I have the need to look at him.
God, he’s sexy as sin in his crisp white shirt and jacket. His hair is styled perfectly, and his blue eyes follow me everywhere. I do my best to ignore him, but every other minute I glance in his direction.
Dinner is served, and I find myself sharing the table with both Bain men, my mother, Sherry, Glen, and a few other people. Nick is sitting directly across from me, making it impossible for me to focus on anything else but him. Glen talks, and as if I’m on autopilot, I nod a lot, answering here and there, but those blue orbs are so probing, it’s hard for me to think. Eating is quite the feat because whenever the fork goes into my mouth, his Adam’s apple bobs, and his eyes darken as they stare at my lips.
I don’t look at him again after that, but I feel his eyes on me. As soon as they open the dance floor, my mother and Sherry suggest that Glen and I dance. Eager to get away from Nick’s intense gaze, I readily agree, but I can tell he’s not pleased. It’s the set of his jaw and the stiffness of his body that gives it away. But when he subtly shakes his head no, I know that I’ve had enough of him.
Who the hell is he to dictate what I do? I’ve known the man less than two hours and he’s trying to tell me who to spend my time with? These old fucks are too bossy for their own good. To prove my point that no one controls me, I take Glen’s hand in mine and lead him as f
ar away from Nick Bain as possible, but no place in this ballroom is far enough away to escape those eyes.
He watches me as we dance to Christmas carols. I feel his presence so much that I excuse myself and go to the bathroom, only to come within an inch of colliding with him the minute I step out of the ladies’ room. I should have known he’d follow me. Maybe I did, and that’s why I came here alone.
“What are you doing?” I ask as he leads me down the hallway, away from the party and into a hidden corner.
He pins me against the wall and grabs my face with both hands. I can hear my heart beating out of my chest at his touch.
“You’re driving me insane in there. You do know that Glen is nothing more than a boy?”
“Well, stop looking at me then, and I guess everyone is a boy next to you,” I shoot back.
“I want to see you again. Meet me tomorrow.” It’s not a request, it’s an order. I shrug out of his touch and take a step away from him.
“Are you crazy? No.”
“Why not?” he asks, his eyes more piercing than ever.
“A million reasons. You’re my mother’s boss, and she hates you, by the way. Why would I go out with someone who’s been so awful to my mother? Oh, and you’re old. You’re my mother’s boss,” I repeat. “And Glen’s already asked me out and about a million other reasons!” I whisper-yell the last part to make sure he gets it.
“The Glen issue is simple. Tell him to fuck off. I have not been awful to your mother. She’s been hostile toward me since the day I stepped foot in the office. She has a problem with me because I’m not my uncle. And what other reasons? Are you talking about my melanin deficiency? What the hell century are you living in? You think I care about that? And I want to see you again, not your mother. And thirty-six is hardly old.”
“Thirty-six! That’s older than I thought. Holy shit!” I yell. “Do you realize when I was thirteen you were already twenty-six?”
“Unless I was asking you out when you were thirteen and I was twenty-six, I don’t see the problem.”
I lean against the wall and take off my shoes, feeling immediate relief from the too tight and too high heels.
“Listen, I know old dudes who date younger women do it because they think they can control them. If that’s what you think, you’re not just old, I’d also diagnose you with dementia.” I stand up straight and point a finger at his chest. He stands still, bemused by my tirade. “I’m not in the market for a sugar daddy. I have a job. And I don’t have daddy issues, if that’s what you’re thinking. My daddy is the best. You know what? You’re barking up the wrong tree.”
He stands there and smirks at me. Actually smirks at my words. Instead of turning tail and walking away, he takes a small step closer to me, and I lean against the wall to keep space between us, but his cologne overtakes my senses completely. I’m not sure what he smells like, but I know it smells good. Good and expensive.
“You’re attracted to me,” he says, completely ignoring my previous points.
“Oh, get over yourself.” I push against him, slide away from the wall, and try to walk past him, but he grabs my elbow and spins me around. “Okay. So what if I am? It doesn’t matter. I’m attracted to lots of people. That doesn’t make them a good fit for me. We would be too complicated.”
I try to pull out of his grasp, but he holds tight and drags me back to the wall. If anyone else was doing this, I’d be scared, but the last thing I feel for Nick is fear.
“Sweetheart, it’s already complicated. We’re in big fucking trouble.” He finally lets go of my elbow and cups my face again. “I want to kiss you,” he whispers, getting as close to me as possible without our bodies touching. “But if I do, I’m afraid I won’t be able to stop.”
I should push him away and run back to the safety of the party. I should make up an excuse and convince my mother to leave, but all I can do is stare into his eyes. My breathing becomes labored, and each time I inhale, my breasts graze his broad chest.
“Are you some sort of fetishist?” I ask. If logic won’t work on him, I’ll try a new tactic. “Is this an experiment for you? Listen—”
He puts a finger to my lips, silencing me. All the air leaves my body. I can no longer breathe as he looks into my eyes.
“I’ll say it only once. I have no idea what old dudes do because I’m not old. I’m not looking to control you. I’m relieved you don’t have daddy issues, and no, I did not wake up this morning hoping to be somebody’s sugar daddy, but I do have a lot of sugar.” He smiles when he says that, as if he’s amused by his own joke. I’m too breathless to tell him I don’t get it. “You only have to call me daddy if you want to, but I promise I’ll make it so good you’ll forget your own name.” My eyes widen at the implication, and when I open my mouth to give him a stinging rebuke, he presses his finger harder against my lips. “To your last point. You insult yourself, Miranda. I’m wondering how it is that every man out there isn’t fighting for your attention, but they’re fools and I’m not.”
He licks his lips as his eyes roam my face. He runs the back of his hand against my cheek and goosebumps overtake my body. I stop breathing as I wait for his next move, which is almost my undoing. He rubs his thumb across my lower lip, and I close my eyes, waiting for him to press his lips against mine. Only, he doesn’t. He moans softly and I open my eyes and meet his gaze.
The sudden chatter and laughter coming from down the hall snaps me out of my trance. I shove him away and practically run back to the party, thankful that the group of women I just walked past did not seem to notice me.
^^^
“Are you ready to go, Mom?” I ask several minutes later after getting myself a drink of ice water to cool my body down.
“In a minute, baby,” my mom says. “Just catching up with Joe.” Mr. Bain had slowly walked himself over to where my mother and several other people were. “Why don’t you go mingle for a few. Get to know Glen a little bit better. He stepped outside with a group of guys, but he’ll probably be back soon. I’ll come and get you when I’m ready.”
That means she won’t be ready until the party is officially over, which won’t be for another hour.
“Miranda, dear,” Mr. Bain says, likely sensing my uncertainty. “Why don’t you go get some dessert. Or better yet, why don’t you go dance with Nicky.”
Like an apparition, he appears out of nowhere.
“I remember one year, you and your parents came to spend Christmas with us, Nicky. You stripped yourself naked and danced around the Christmas tree to this very song. We all thought it was funny until you peed on the floor.”
The entire group laughs, including my mother. I look at Nick, who has a little color in his cheeks.
“Thanks, Uncle Joe. You ask a pretty girl to dance with me, but then you tell that story. How can any woman not want to dance with me after hearing that?”
“Oh, relax. You were only two. Miranda,” Joe says, turning his attention back to me, “take Nicky on the dance floor. He needs to learn to have some fun. He’s too stiff.”
My mother doesn’t look pleased by the suggestion, but she doesn’t say anything as she looks from me to Nick. He wastes no time as he takes my hand and drags me to the dance floor.
“Make sure you keep your clothes on this time,” I tell him with a smirk as we dance to “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree.”
Mr. Bain was wrong. Another thing about Nick Bain is that he’s a fantastic dancer and is anything but stiff. He takes my hand, spins me around, and slams my body into his. He quickly puts an arm around my waist, holding me against him as we dance to the music.
“I won’t pee on the floor this time either,” he says, smiling. When the song ends, I attempt to walk away from him, but he holds on to me. “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year” starts to play as we continue to dance.
He holds me closer, and as we move about the dance floor, there’s not an inch of space between us. My eyes widen when I feel a bulge near my abdomen. Instead
of pulling away, I lay my head on his chest and let him lead.
“I want to see you tomorrow,” he says, repeating the words he said not too long ago.
I know what I should say. I should tell him no, walk away, and never see him again. I should avoid this dangerous game he wants to play, but I know I don’t want to walk away and not see him again.
“I work until six,” I tell him.
“Come over to my house afterward.”
“Mr. Bain,” I begin.
“Nick,” he corrects.
“Nick, is this a good idea?”
“Probably not. It’s probably the worst idea I ever had, but it’s a better idea than not seeing you again.”
When the song ends, he walks to the bar and I go sit at the table with my mother and her colleagues. Despite carrying on with their conversation, I can feel my mother’s eyes on me as I do my best to appear stoic and bored, relieved that she cannot feel the rapid beating of my heart.
Thankfully, the party ends soon after, and people start to leave. Nick comes over to say goodbye, shaking hands with everyone at the table, starting with me. Our eyes lock when he shakes mine, leaving a small piece of paper in my palm.
It’s not until I get home that I realize it’s his phone number with instructions to text him the minute I get home.
CHAPTER 6
NICK
An hour later, I walk through my townhouse, pulling the damn tie off my neck. The entire drive home, I kept my phone in the cupholder, waiting for it to vibrate with an incoming message, and nothing. I toss the offensive phone on the bed as I stomp my way into my walk-in closet. I’m out of the suit in record time and change into a set of gray sweats.
There’s still no text by the time I walk back and pick my phone off the bed, but just as I’m about to toss it back on the bed, it vibrates in my hand with an incoming text message from a strange number.
