by Peyton Banks
6
Heather
* * *
The drive into the city is uncomfortable, to say the least. Baxter had said some very hateful things, but he doesn’t know anything about me, not really. I’d not disclosed my work history to him. Not the twenty-hour days where I’d slept in snatches as I got my first line of clothing ready. I didn’t tell him how I’d worked so hard sewing those first articles of clothes my fingers bled. The first store had almost killed me. Back then I was sinking fast and bankruptcy had loomed.
He didn’t know I was a CEO of a company that might go international in a few months. I thought of telling him everything, but now it was too late. If I told him I did understand his headaches and his pain, it would give him an easy out. He wouldn’t have to figure out what type of man he wanted to be.
Baxter stops the car, and I open my door. He jumps out when there is a break in traffic and runs around, opening the back door. Before I can grab my bag, he's tugging it out.
“Can I see you this week? Maybe we could go to dinner on Wednesday.”
My heart is sore and my head hurts. I can’t, not yet. I shake my head though I wanted to say yes. Baxter is a good guy, kind of, but he has issues. I can’t help him this time.
“I don’t know.”
He looks crestfallen. “It doesn’t have to be a date. Just us two eating food at the same table.”
I shake my head. “I’m not some girl you can string along.”
“I’m not stringing you along. I’m serious this time, Heather, I’m not using you. I want to get to know you. I’m not going to try to get you to fix me then run off. This time, it’s real.”
I want to believe him. There have been few men I’ve ever felt a deep connection with. My connection to Baxter is stronger than any other I’ve ever experienced. “I just can’t, not yet.”
“Okay, how about lunch?” Baxter asks.
My mouth falls open and I shake my head. “You’ll actually break away from work?”
“For you, I will. But you do realize after the words I said to my father, he may make sure I don’t have a job come Monday.”
I had my suspicions, but I wasn’t sure if Baxter’s dad could fire him. The desire to see him outweighs my hesitation. “Okay, lunch on Wednesday.”
Baxter pulls me close and I want to push away. He doesn’t try to kiss me, maybe he notices my stiff spine and tight muscles, either way, he backs off.
“I’ll call you later.”
I nod, not wanting to argue. I head up to my apartment, but my soul is damaged and I don't want to be alone. I need to revive so I head to my favorite place in the city. Central Park relaxes me. It's the oasis I need when life is too harsh.
My sketch pad is tucked in my backpack. It takes one full lap around the reservoir before I can head to the Turtle Pond and sketch a new pattern. This design is going to be for silk scarves. I haven’t done any scarves in a while, but it’s something I want to add to my collection. The pattern of turtles and lily pads is heavily influenced by my location. After a few minutes of drawing, I notice I’ve placed buttercups near the fringe. It’s a subtle stripe of yellow that reminds me of Baxter. He’s in my mind, and no matter how far I run from him, I’m going to have to confront my feelings.
I swing by the store before closing, happy to see five people shopping. Marci and Bree were the only employees in the store and they were both working hard to please the customers. I deposit my bag in the back and begin ringing up purchases, attributing the commissions to the women working the floor. There was something satisfying about helping people find clothes they love. Two more women come in, gushing over a new pair of pants which had been delivered over the weekend.
After almost an hour the store empties. Bree and Marci both laughed and gave me high fives.
“That was so good,” Marci says.
Happiness fills me. This is what I love, what I worked so hard for. “Excellent rush. You both are amazing.”
“You’re back in town early.” Marci lifts her eyebrows before turning to replace items that didn’t fit the customers.
“He needed to come back and work.” The lie rolls off my tongue easily.
Both women look at me like they know better.
I go into my office and pull up my email. I need to head to California to sort out a few issues. I mull over timing. On the one hand, doing a surprise visit would keep them on their toes. After looking at the last set of financial data from both California stores earlier in the week, I know they are already on their toes and getting better. I need to get away though and this is a great excuse.
Another customer comes in and I shut the door to my office. Tea calls to me and I pour a cup then sink into the chair behind my desk. I drop my head and tears come. Being with Baxter’s family had been stressful. After a few minutes, I wipe my tears away and start looking at flights. There is one that leaves in the afternoon on Monday. I think about lunch on Wednesday with Baxter, but I can’t face him. I book the flight, thinking I’m taking the cowards way out.
I feel energized again. Eventually, I’ll need to find someone to manage my stores. But would that leave me out of touch with people? I loved being right in the action, talking to the women who wear my products. But something needs to change. The rush I’d walked in on wasn’t an anomaly. More women were buying my clothes, which was a good thing, but could I keep up with demand?
I head home, happy to have made some decisions but still mulling over others. Going to California would help me focus. I need the time away to think, and I always think better after a trip out west.
When Baxter calls me on Sunday night, I let it slip to voicemail. I can’t deal with him or the problems he’s brought into my life. The flight on Monday is uneventful. When I land in California, I feel like I’ve taken a breath of fresh air.
I need to call Baxter, but I really don’t want to. He hurt me, and I don’t want to talk to him, but I needed to inform him I won’t make it for lunch.
The phone rings twice and I check my watch, it was eight in the evening so he shouldn’t be working. Just as it was about to roll to voicemail, he answers.
“Hello, Heather?”
His voice weaves through me, leaving me longing. I don’t want to want him, but I do. “Yes, it’s me.”
“I was about to call and ask if you wanted to get a drink.”
“Um…well.” I hesitate, wishing I’d called him the night before to tell him my plans. But I don’t owe him anything, not really. “I’m in California.”
"What?" The panic in his voice is unmistakable.
“I flew out yesterday.”
He says nothing when I expected hate or anger. Instead, he sighs. “Okay. So I guess we won’t be able to eat lunch tomorrow.”
I’m a little disappointed he’s taking this so well. If he’d yelled or screamed, I would have been able to dump him easily. This kinder, nicer Baxter has left me intrigued. He’s not perfect, but neither am I. “No, I won’t be back until Friday, late.”
“Let me pick you up from the airport.”
Shock pulses through me. “What? Really? It’s JFK.”
“I’m fine with that. I’ll pick you up and take you to dinner. I want to see you.”
I stare at my nails, studying the polish. He is being nice. I want this to be real. I want him to be the kind man I remember from school. I nod though he can’t see me.
"Okay. I'll send you my flight details." The bubble of stress eases, leaving me feeling relief.
“Thank you. I’ll see you on Friday. Have a good week in California.”
“Thank you. I will.”
I hang up and wonder if seeing him on Friday is going to make a difference in how I feel. Anger churns in my belly at the memory of his words. I was making a big deal out of this, and maybe I shouldn’t, but I was angry. He’d assumed so many things about me. It wasn’t fair, but there was nothing rational about my feelings for him. Time away would help me clear my head.
Workin
g in California, visiting my shops in Hollywood and San Francisco gives me a boost. One of the actresses I’m dressing for the Met Gala meets with me so I can take final measurements. I show her the fabric I plan on using and her excitement is contagious. Now, I’m more excited than ever to finish the dress.
My nerves hit on Friday when I’m midway home. Baxter will be waiting for me. I can’t allow myself to head down a path that will lead to anger and hate. Anger causes too much friction and blocks my creativity. If I can’t create, it’s all over. Sure, I have next season’s designs already done, but I need to figure out the season after next.
When I check my phone as I step off the plane, there is a text from Baxter. He's waiting near the baggage claim. I stop by the bathroom and freshen up before heading to the baggage area. My belly flutters and my heart speeds up when I see him. He does induce a certain reaction in me. No question, Baxter is sexy, but it’s more than looks, it’s him. The thought scares me, but I don’t have time to wallow in my fright.
“Hey, Heather, I missed you.” Baxter grabs my carry-on bag and shoulders it. “Point out your suitcase and I’ll grab it.”
I’m a little disappointed he doesn’t kiss me. I want to feel his lips on mine, but he’s being reserved. I place my hand on his arm and his smile deepens. “The suitcase is red and huge.”
Baxter lowers his head just a little but still doesn’t kiss me. “You smell nice.”
I lift up on my toes and brush my lips over his. I want him, even if I can’t say the words to him. “Thank you.” His scent is in my nose and I want it all over my skin. I’m a fool for wanting sex without seeing if he’s changed, but I guess I can play the fool well.
I’m a little surprised he hasn’t made demands or acted like a jerk while I’ve been gone. When he’d lived in California, he’d been a little peevish if I couldn’t get together with him. Maybe that had kept us apart then. Now, he’s being respectful of my wishes. His attitude is attractive, and I can see myself falling for him.
Honestly, this last week in California was perfect for me. It gave me time to think. I reevaluated my life, how I felt about Baxter, and what I wanted. I'd been a little harsh when Baxter had said those things in Connecticut. Maybe he really was worth a second chance.
A faint smile plays at his lips as he grabs my bag, not saying anything about the weight. I’d brought back samples and clothes from one of my other stores. I could have mailed them, but I wanted them this weekend so I could play with the fabric and make something new.
The air between us is calm as we drive to a restaurant in Brooklyn where they seemed to know Baxter’s name. The place is quaint, small, and dark, with little red candles on each table.
“This is nice.” I look around, noticing black and white photos on the walls.
Baxter’s lips curve up in a way that makes me want to giggle. “Honestly, I’ve never brought a date here.”
His words make me feel special, and I squeeze my legs together as desire builds. “Is that what this is?”
“I would like to think so.”
He still has no clue what I do for a living, but that’s my fault. I’ve allowed him to guess what I’m about and never once told him. I should tell him. When he called and I met him for dinner, I didn’t think I would care this deeply about him. And once I started to care, he lashed out.
I toy with a napkin on the table, thinking about us. “We need rules.”
“I’m game,” Baxter says.
“You haven’t heard my rules.”
“Tell me. I’ll do anything.”
I lift my brows and shake my head. "Oh, Baxter, you shouldn't have given me free rein."
He rolls his eyes. “It’s not like you’re going to go all crazy on me. I’ve known you for years.”
An appetizer of ravioli in a white sauce is placed on the table between us. We haven’t ordered anything, but I guess the staff really knows Baxter.
I take a bite and moan. “This is good.”
“Everything is good here.”
“Do you come here often?”
“I do. I like to think here.” Baxter takes a bite of food then puts his fork down.
I can’t help but tease him. “What if I say I want to tie you up and paddle you?”
His cheeks turn red. “I’d say yes.”
“You would like it.” I throw back my head and laugh.
His nostrils flare and he shakes his head. It’s fun being with Baxter, almost like old times.
He clears his throat before speaking. “Okay, give me the rules.”
I try to look like I know what I’m talking about. I haven’t even thought about rules before now. “No booty calls,” slips out first.
The corners of his mouth lift in a slight smile. My heart beats faster. “Fine, but if you want sex, you’re free to call me. I’ll say yes to your booty calls every time.”
I laugh and take a little sip of wine before eating another bite of the delicious food. He's being funny, and I like it. “No yelling either.”
He sobers and nods. When his gaze meets mine, it causes a shiver to skate down my back. “Okay, I’ll admit that’s going to be hard. I’ve done some deep introspection while you were away.”
“What did you find?” I ask between bites.
“I’m an asshole.”
I almost have to spit out my food from laughing so hard. He shrugs when I’ve recovered enough it seems like I’m not going to choke.
“What can I say, it’s true. I’ve been a jerk.”
“Okay, so what other rules can we come up with?”
“Wait, you’re just making these up on the fly?”
His lips thin and his brows bunch together. I imagine him above me, his brows knit tightly as he slides into me. A tiny gasp escapes my lips. I want to feel his hands on me. I should be stronger, but I’m not.
“I’m making them up. Do you have anything to say about that?”
He takes another bite of food and lifts his brows. “No, because even if I’m a dick, I want you to be happy.”
“You’re being too kind.”
He rolls his eyes. “Apparently, I’m not a nice guy.”
I eat a little more and drink some wine while I study Baxter. “So, they didn’t even ask what we wanted to eat.”
“They know me here, and that’s how Mama is.”
“Mama?”
“She runs this place with an iron fist. Trust me, no one tells Mama no.”
I chuckle and eat a little more as I watch Baxter with hooded eyes. I’m horny. He’s turned me on with his kindness, or maybe it’s the fact his touch started a fire in me that still hasn’t cooled off. “When you drop me off, will you come up?”
He pauses with his fork midway to his mouth. The look in his eyes tells me all I need to know. He wants to have sex too. I can imagine myself with a man like Baxter as long as he doesn’t turn cruel. We could have fun together. I enjoy his company, which is something I can’t say about the other men I’ve tried to date. More than once I’d given up on a guy because they get jealous of my work.
“So will you?” I ask again.
He nods. “Oh yeah. I want to come with you.”
I gasp and glance around. “That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what you meant.”
It was. I duck my head, trying to hide my giggle as I take another bite of pasta. I was going to get lucky tonight. And I was very happy about it. My panties were melting, and it all had to do with Baxter.
The drive to my place takes about thirty minutes. During the drive, I think about giving him a blowjob. Baxter finds a parking spot and helps me up with my bags. He glances around my living room decorated with various pieces of work. He pauses in front of a blue and green vase.
“The art in your home is beautiful. I really like your style.”
“I’ve had the opportunity to travel a lot. When I go someplace amazing, I look for art. Sometimes I find pieces that are really great and I can’t part with them.”
He glances over his shoulder, his eyes dark with lust. “Your home has so much character. Mine is drab compared to yours.”
I should say something about my stores and my clothing line. The moment passes when Baxter turns quickly and tugs me close. His hand are on my back, pulling me closer. Gentle pressure moves me into position so he can kiss me deeply. I want this kiss more than air.
His tongue thrusts in as he holds me in place. He is forceful and demanding with his touch, and I love it. I melt against him as he twines his tongue around mine. The kiss ends, and I'm sad at its departure.
“I need to shower,” I say.
“I’m all for that.” Baxter tugs off his shirt and I stare in wonder at his tight abs and his muscular chest. The sight of the tattoo touches my heart.
“You’re so sexy,” I whisper.
“So are you. Your ass is curved just right.”
This time I laugh. I’m not sure anyone has ever told me they like how my ass looks. “Keep talking.”
He unbuttons my dress and slides the zipper low. “There’s so much about you I really like.”
“Like what?”
His finger traces over my back to my rear. “I like this place on your back. It’s right above your ass. I like how your body swells here.” His hand dips into my dress and he grabs my butt cheek and squeezes. I yelp and he chuckles.
He slips my dress off one shoulder and lets it fall. His eyes widen as he stares at my bare breasts. The flick of his tongue makes me want it on my clit. The sex had been good between us before, and I knew it would be good this time too.
When his cheeks turn a deeper shade of red, I know he’s really into this. “Do you ever wear underwear?”
His question isn’t surprising. My breasts aren’t too big. “Rarely. This dress is designed so I don’t have to wear a bra.”
“Smart designer. I need to write her a letter and tell her I approve.”
I laugh uncomfortably. I should tell him, but he lowers his head and sucks in my nipple. My breath is taken away as desire swamps me. I need more. My fingers twist in his hair and he moves to my other breast. My dress is puddled on the floor and all I’m wearing is my strappy heels.
