“That was nice. Unexpected but nice.” Her commentary was adorable. I wasn’t used to a woman being so open with her feelings.
“Well, good. I’m glad you approve.” I couldn’t help the grin that crept from corner to corner of my mouth. I could feel the exact moment the dimples appeared, having lived with them my entire life, and knew I’d be in for a comment next.
“My God, Oliver, you are a beautiful man. Seriously. The angels wept when you fell to earth.” She shook her head as she spoke, in what I could only perceive as disbelief.
“So poetic.” I kissed her knuckles to take the attention away from me. “And a little depressing.”
She laughed, little silver bells tinkling. “Why is that depressing?”
“I don’t know… Angels weeping? Babies falling? That doesn’t sound sad to you? It’s like the ‘Rock-a-Bye Baby’ lullaby. Who makes this stuff up?”
“Okay, okay. You have a point. And you’ve successfully changed the subject.”
“Moi?” I held my hand over my heart with mock hurt.
“Oh, cut the innocent act. I’m sure you are anything but that. In fact, I have firsthand knowledge.” She took a sip of her water before adding, “To some degree.”
“Offended. Party of one.” I raised my finger as if requesting the check from the waiter, who of course, immediately scurried over to our table. We both laughed but thought we’d put him to use while he was there.
“Can I get you something else, sir? A nightcap perhaps? Coffee?”
I deferred to Bailey, and she ordered a cup of black coffee, so I had the same. When the waiter hurried toward the kitchen again, she just looked to me expectantly until I realized she was still waiting for me to explain why my mood had changed so drastically when she mentioned her husband and his profession.
I let out a sigh, not really wanting to spoil such a lovely night with my naivety about her marital status or talk of my feud with Skye. But to be honest, I knew better. Why else would someone like Bailey be interested in a Book Boyfriend? The same reason the married women at my condo’s pool were. So I pretended to be unfazed by that and instead focused on the situation with Skye, which was actually starting to weigh on me. Bailey asked, after all, and it might feel good to get it off my chest.
“So, I have a roommate who’s been my best friend for a long time. She’s in the same line of work as your…husband. She doesn’t hold office per se, but she would love to someday. She works like a dog and seems very underappreciated by her boss—from where I sit, at least.”
“If she’s in politics, she’s going to have to learn how to stand up for herself. Otherwise, she’ll never get an elected position. It’s a very cutthroat circle,” said Bailey. “People are downright vicious. Is she sure that she wants to be a part of that?” She fiddled with her napkin while waiting for me to answer.
“She wants it more than anything else. She has as long as I’ve known her. We had a terrible fight recently, and it’s eating me up inside. I thought I didn’t really care about it, but the longer it goes unresolved, the more it’s bothering me.” I sat back in my chair and put my napkin on the table so the waiter knew he could clear my plate.
“You should apologize to her.” Bailey was matter-of-fact.
“I should? What if she was the one who was wrong? Which she was, I might add.” We both smiled, knowing I would say that whether it was true or not.
“Well, in my experience, it takes two to tango. And typically, when you fall on the sword, it’s that much easier for the other person to follow suit. Lead by example and all of that.” She waved her slim, feminine hand in the air, making me smile broader.
“I’m serious.”
“I know, and I think you might be on to something. I’ve been wanting to talk to her; I just don’t know the right way to go about it.”
“Do you two have a history?” Again, her to-the-point method warmed my heart rather than put me on the defensive. I really liked this woman.
“We’ve been friends for a long time. We went to UCLA together.” I knew where she was going with the question, but I thought making her work for it a little bit would be more fun.
“No, I mean a history.” She said the word with a certain sensationalistic lilt.
I leaned in closer and stage-whispered, “Do you mean did we fuck?”
She mocked my tone in reply. “Yes.”
“No.” I sat back in my chair, smiling. “In all seriousness. We haven’t. Ever. It’s never been like that for us. It’s just not there. You know?”
“Sounds a lot like my marriage.” Now her tone drifted into Snarkville.
And just when there was something to dig my teeth into about her, the waiter showed up with our coffee. He made such a show of pouring the two cups of joe that I wanted to push him out of the way and do it myself just so we could get back to our conversation.
“This is going to probably sound odd, but I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed just sitting and talking to someone as much as I’m enjoying being here with you right now.”
“Well, thank you very much, Mr. Oliver Connely. I think I’d have to agree with you.”
“You must meet a lot of fascinating people with your husband’s line of work…”
“Not really. Politicians are only interested in two things.” She held her fingers up as she ticked them off. “Themselves and what you can do for them. That’s it. So, for a woman like me?” She shrugged. “I’m disposable. As long as I sit there, look pretty, and don’t embarrass him, I’m doing my job.”
“But it’s your marriage. Calling it a job seems so…so…”
“Impersonal? Distant? Unaffectionate? Cold?” She supplied the words with little emotional inflection.
“Yeah, that’s the one I think I was looking for.”
“Cold?”
“Yeah.” Funny how she zeroed in on the same one I had from the entire list she had given. Or maybe not funny at all.
“Why do you think I ended up looking at your ad?” She took a sip of her coffee, and I noticed a slight tremble in her hand. The first sign of emotion all night, outside our undeniable physical connection.
“I guess when you put it that way…” I didn’t know what else to say.
“Please don’t think me heartless, Oliver.”
“I don’t. I see your heart.” I gathered her hand in mine while I talked. I just wanted to touch her. Be close to her. “Your vitality. Your spirit seems bigger than many I’ve met in the last several years, actually. I think it makes me sad more than anything, if I’m being honest.”
“Sad? Why would you say something like that?” She pulled her hand away to point to herself while she spoke. “Do I look like I’m longing for anything? Look at me. I have it all. Anything I want. It’s mine.”
She appreciated the matter-of-fact approach so much, I thought I’d reciprocate. “Again, I’ll point out the obvious, then. You looked up my ad. Twice.”
She stopped talking completely and sat back in her seat where she had been forward on its edge almost the entire night. Something about the posture made me feel like I had put her in her place. Like I had sent an errant child to the naughty corner.
And I felt like the world’s biggest asshole for it.
“Well, I had a lovely time with you tonight, but I think I should get going. My husband may wonder where I’ve gotten off to.” She placed her napkin carefully on the table and reached for her bag.
“Please don’t go. I feel terrible right now. Our night was going so well, and I feel like I’ve ruined it.” Panic set in. I really didn’t want her to leave.
“No. It’s fine. You spoke the truth. Sometimes it’s harder to face than others. That’s all. I can wear the mask all day, Oliver, but depending on the way the sun shines down, you can see through the cracks.” She pushed back in her chair, not waiting for me to do the gentlemanly assist in the least.
“Can I walk you downstairs?” I sprang to my feet, nearly toppling my chair back as I did
so.
“No, I’ll be fine. They have a valet, so I won’t be on the street alone. And it’s not like this is a bad neighborhood.” She smiled a practiced smile meant to reassure me.
When she reached for her purse, I put my hand on top of hers. I didn’t want our evening to end. “Are you sure I can’t talk you into staying?”
“Not tonight.”
“Another night?” I sounded like a desperate teenager.
“I’ll call you, okay?” Next she would say, “It’s not you; it’s me.”
“I hope you will.” I walked with her to the bank of elevators and delayed pushing the call button. Another couple came into the vestibule, and I pulled Bailey off to the side to let them call for the elevator ahead of us. At least it would give me a few more minutes with her.
She was a small woman when we stood side by side. At least a foot shorter than I was, and she was wearing a killer pair of heels.
“Your shoes are fantastic. Stuart Weitzman if I’m not mistaken?” I leaned far out to the side to get a full view of her sexy legs and the shoes all in one look.
“The man knows footwear and looks like a Roman statue? What is this world coming to?” Her lighthearted smile was back.
“The hazards of life as a fashion model, I suppose.” I shrugged, solid with my manhood, regardless of my extensive knowledge of women’s shoe designers.
“Do you think your career is really finished? I see even middle-aged men and women in ads all the time. COVERGIRL has a seventy-year-old ‘it girl’ as we speak!”
“True. And she’s fabulous. But it just depends what the designers are looking for from one day to the next, you know? And I need to pay bills and eat every day. I wasn’t smart in the beginning when I was working nonstop. I didn’t save or spend wisely, and now I’m panicking because of it. Hopefully I can get some extra in the bank and take jobs when they come and be choosy again about the contracts I take.” All complete truth.
“I can’t imagine anyone turning you away.” She looked directly into my eyes when she spoke, and I wasn’t sure if she was still talking about modeling gigs.
“Well, there are a lot of good-looking people running around this city.” I stepped in closer to her, backing her up against the wall. “Can I kiss you again?”
“I was hoping you would. I’ve had coffee, though. Sorry.” She put her fingers up to her lips, as if reconsidering her answer.
“So have I. Neither of us will even notice.” We smiled as I moved closer, reaching under her hair with my fingers to cradle her head in my palm while I meshed our mouths in a perfect kiss. I stroked my thumb along her jaw, feeling her flawless skin while I tasted her lips and pushed in deeper to sample her further. Little humming noises escaped her when I changed the pressure of my tongue or tilted my head in another direction, keeping her guessing and accommodating my desires. When we parted, we were both panting and glassy-eyed, oblivious to the other two couples who had congregated in the waiting area for the descending elevators.
Bailey covered her face as a quick blush settled in, so I shielded her from the others while she regained her composure. I wasn’t sure if she was actually embarrassed to be seen kissing me or if it was more about possibly being seen in public with someone other than her husband.
I waited until I was sure I had her attention and mouthed an apology to her, and she quickly dismissed it, so I felt marginally better. There was so much about her I wanted to learn and become familiar with. I was so scared I wasn’t going to get a chance.
For the second time, the one woman I wanted to continue holding through to the next morning was the one who couldn’t seem to get to her car fast enough. Watching her speed off in her adorable little two-seater convertible nearly gutted me. How the hell had I fallen for a woman over one date? Fine…two.
Maybe it was the shit with Skye that had me so off-kilter. I rode home thinking of ways to approach her. Maybe I’d get up early and have breakfast waiting for her before work. She never could say no to bacon. At least it would be a peace offering, a place to start mending our friendship.
From there I could try to get a handle on what was going on in my head and heart with Bailey. She was married and unavailable, so I shouldn’t even be thinking about her. Not to mention, I had an entire month’s worth of dates lined up with other women. Since that was my only source of income currently, I wouldn’t be giving up that gig anytime soon either. So really, neither of us were in a position to get involved in anything beyond casual dating.
I needed to put the idea of Bailey up on a shelf for another time, when everything was clearer.
Ha! If only matters of the heart worked that way.
Chapter Seven
The water shut off just as I pulled the bacon from the oven. My mom taught me to make the greasy pork goodness that way, as it made much less of a mess than on the stove. I smiled, thinking of my mom and wondering what she was doing this morning. I’d have to give her a call later. It had been weeks since we talked, and I felt like shit when I realized it was probably more like months. I flipped the pancakes on the griddle, watching the fluffy pillows rise as the wet batter sizzled on the hot surface. I had all of Skye’s favorites ready for her.
As if following a director’s stage cue, her bedroom door opened and my roommate came out wrapped tightly in her fluffy white hotel robe, towel piled high on her head to keep her wet hair under some sort of control.
“Oh.” She pulled up short when she saw me standing in the kitchen. “Well. Good morning.” She couldn’t even meet my eyes when she spoke, and it broke my heart that I let our relationship go to this extreme over something so silly.
“I’m just going to get some coffee. Damn, Oliver. That smells so good. Is that bacon?” She looked under the lid of the stovetop frying pan where the bacon was being kept warm.
“Can you spare a few minutes this morning? I was hoping we could have breakfast together.” The best way to this girl’s heart was her stomach. I knew it as sure as I knew my own name.
“You made all of this for me?” Finally, she looked me in the eye.
“Well, who did you think it was for?” This time I was the chicken, though, looking away, busying myself with the pancakes.
“I figured you had a guest.”
“No, it’s just us. And I know how much you love bacon.”
“Mmmmm, I do love bacon.” She grabbed a piece before I could swat her hand away and then went for a mug in the cabinet. “Do you want some coffee?”
“I could use a top off. Thank you.” I handed her my cup from where it was sitting near the stove.
“Take a seat. Pancakes are coming up.”
She walked around to the other side of the breakfast bar, clearing some space for me to move around our small condo-sized kitchen. “Oh, pancakes too? Wow. What’s the occasion?” She dropped her spoon onto the bar. “Oh no. Are you moving out? Are you leaving me? I mean, I know we had that argument. I know I was awful. I’m so sorry, Ollie. Please don’t leave me, though. Not over something like that.”
“I’m not leaving, Skye. And I’m the one who should apologize to you. I didn’t take your feelings into consideration when I started this.” I put the plate of pancakes between us and sat down. “I don’t even know what to call it. This venture? I guess we should’ve talked first.”
She turned on her stool to look at me directly. “You think? I mean, it’s prostitution, Oliver.”
“Hey. Are we going to start again?” I set my fork down, two pancakes still stabbed through the center.
“No. No, you’re right.” She grabbed my hands in hers and squeezed. “I’m sorry. But I do think we need to talk about what you’re up to. Maybe we should set up some ground rules or something. Like, I don’t know…you can’t bring random women here all the time to fuck for money?” She winced, letting go of my hands when the harshness of her words sank in.
“I wouldn’t do that. And I told you, Skye, or I tried telling you, I’m not sleeping with them. Or not a
ll of them. And I’m not setting up the dates with the express purpose of sleeping with them. Most of these women just want companionship. But we don’t need to get into all of that. I just couldn’t stand going another day with you mad at me. It’s been eating me up inside.” I layered butter and syrup on the stack of steaming goodness on my plate and went to dig in. After my mouth was full, Skye decided to hit me with the feels.
“You are the best friend a person could ever hope to have, Oliver. Do you know that?” She slid off the barstool at our little breakfast bar and came over to hug me. I stood up and lifted her off her feet in a giant brother bear hug that made her squeal until I returned both feet to the ground.
“I feel like I need to make this up to you. I swear I didn’t think what I was doing would impact you in any way. Actually, I didn’t think of you at all. And that’s the worst part. It was selfish, and I didn’t even realize it was, and that really scares me. Am I that incapable of coexisting with another human being? You know how much I love you. And I didn’t even think of you. I just thought of myself and how this would get me out of the rut I was in.”
We sat back down, but my breakfast food had lost its appeal. Skye, on the other hand, dug in to the pile of bacon on her plate.
“You need to lighten up, honey. As usual, you’re being way too hard on yourself.”
“It’s just that I’ve been thinking about this a lot, and I know I screwed up. I’ve screwed up a lot of things, frankly.”
“Have you been talking to your folks?”
“No, I’m serious.” I appreciated her wanting to brush this off as one of my typical post-phone-call-home self-flagellations, but this one was all on me.
“So am I. You’re not a screw-up, Oliver. You have so much to be proud of.” She stroked my back while she complimented me. For some reason, it made me feel worse—like a child.
“Well, I did—I should have. I should have more to show for how hard I’ve worked. But I also should’ve listened. To them, and to you, and everyone else who tried to tell me that being so careless with my spending was going to catch up with me eventually. But hey, I was too smart for everyone, right? I was the guy who had it all figured out. Well, now the joke’s on me. Now I’m the guy who can’t even pay his rent.”
Misadventures with a Book Boyfriend Page 7
