Casual Affair (Timid Souls Book 2) (4 page)

“The bloody git wouldn’t know his asshole from a rat’s,” Mike huffed and took a long swig of his pint.

He was waffling on and on about some PhD whose theories he didn’t agree with, and I stopped listening after about the fifth word. His field was something in the realm of socio-economics and I couldn’t have been less interested in the subject. He knew it just as I knew he couldn’t give a fig about the tech industry. We knew the other wasn’t being rude when we tended to zone out during our rants. These nights out at the pub weren’t for advice-giving as much as they were for venting and pretending the listen.

I was staring at a television on the wall that had some baseball game on it. I’d tried to watch baseball on more than one occasion and just couldn’t get into it. Football and rugby, those were my sports. The game went to commercial and I looked down at my phone, not even realizing that I’d been fidgeting with it on the table.

So many times I’d thought about calling Bea, or at least texting her. To see if she’d even be open to seeing me again. But something stopped me every time I started scrolling through my contacts, looking for her name.

If I had to put a word to it, I guess I would call it fear. I didn’t like the possibility of her rejecting me. But I also thought that it might all be worth it if I could just hear her voice again.

“You falling in love with that thing or something?” Mike asked, breaking me out of my thoughts.

I looked up at him to find him grinning at me. “What are you on about?”

He nodded his head down at my phone. “You’ve been staring at that thing all night. And I know you wouldn’t be doing that if you were just expecting a call from a client or from Peter. Is your father doing okay?”

Mike had never met my father personally, but he knew our situation. Plus, he and Peter were close, so I knew that my father and I had been brought up in their conversations before. Peter was like family to me by now, anyway.

I nodded and took a drink of my own beer. “He’s good. I talk to him about every other day.”

A look of understanding passed across his face and it made me apprehensive. What he said next proved I had reason to be. “Who is she, then?”

I tried to act aloof when my eyes met his. “What?”

He smirked and snorted into his mug. “Please. I’m not daft. If it’s not your job and it’s not your father, it’s clearly a woman. So…who is she?”

I groaned and covered my face with my hands. “Blimey, not you, too.”

Why was everyone suddenly inquiring about my relationships lately? Why was it any business of theirs? So, I worked a lot. Why was that a bad thing? So, that night with Bea had been the first time I’d slept with a woman in a while. That was life and if I didn’t have a problem with it, then nobody else should either.

Then, I thought about it. I couldn’t get Bea out of my head and I’d been wanting to contact her the second she left my place that morning. Maybe talking to Mike would help me figure out what to do about this whole dilemma I was in. Mike didn’t know me as well as Peter did, so I was hoping that he would be able to offer more of an outsider’s perspective. Peter was too bias, knew too many of my idiosyncrasies to offer a completely objective opinion.

I took a deep breath and let it out. “Her name is Bea and I met her about three weeks ago.”

Mike’s head swiveled around to me, his eyes wide like he hadn’t expected that I would actually admit to it. But his attention was completely focused on me as I told him my story.

“I met her at a club and brought her back to our place. You were away at that conference.”

He nodded slowly, a contemplative look on his face. “You shagged her.” It was a statement, not a question.

I nodded back, flagging down the bartender for another pint. “And now I can’t stop thinking about her. She wasn’t like most women I’ve met and especially not ones that I would pick up at a club.” I gazed across the bar, not really looking at anything, as I thought about how to describe the woman occupying most of my dreams. “She was funny. And smart and sexy. Not to mention insanely gorgeous. She wasn’t fake or whiny or clingy, you know? I didn’t look at her and think:
vapid
. She had way more depth to her than that. She had…character. You don’t meet women like that every day.”

I looked over at Mike’s stunned expression and realized I should have never opened my trap. That was too much. But I just couldn’t stop the words once they started.

“Okay. You obviously fancy her. What’s the problem, then?” he asked in a sober voice, which surprised me. I figured he’d be taking the mickey out of me for getting hung up on a woman after only one night together.

So, I told him about how I basically had to steal her number and what I suspected of her not being interested in anything more than the one night.

I probably sounded pathetic and maybe I was.

I looked back up at him when I was finished and he just shrugged. Shrugged, like I hadn’t just told him that I was completely infatuated over this woman after only eight hours together and that I might lose my mind if I didn’t see her again.

“You should just call her.”

My bewildered expression probably said more than I could right then. “And tell her what? That I’m the bloke who creepily stole her number and now I can’t stop obsessing over her?”

Again, he was nonchalant. Being affected by a woman like this was a big deal for me—something I knew he was completely aware of—and he was acting like I was telling him that I needed to make a dentist appointment.

“Just invite her out for a pint,” he responded as he brought his mug to his lips. “Hang out casually and see what happens. I’m here, so it will help it not seem like a date. Maybe if it’s more like a ‘come meet my friend and hang out’ it won’t freak her out so much.”

I ruminated over that. He had a point and it made sense. I really didn’t have much to lose, anyway, so why not? The worst she could do was say no and then I would be no worse off than I was right now.

The next thing I knew, I was finding her name in my phone and pressing send.

##

Bea

“Bea! Your phone is ringing!” Felicity shouted from the living room.

I’d been trying to do some work on my laptop from the dining room and hadn’t even realized I didn’t have the irritating little contraption with me.

I got up and ran to the living room where Felicity was doing her daily yoga routine. I tried yoga once. Practically put myself to sleep doing it and decided that I’d stick with playing sports as my regular dose of exercise.

I grabbed my phone off the coffee table and didn’t recognize the number on the screen. I inwardly groaned, hoping it wasn’t a potential client wanting to talk quotes. We had to deal with calls like that every day. We advertised as much as we could and always gave our business cards out to people, which only had our office numbers on them, but our cell phone numbers still somehow made it to strangers interested in our services. Usually, it was through customer referrals.

And I just wasn’t in the mood to talk business right now with someone I didn’t even know.

But I answered it, anyway. “Hello?”

I didn’t get a response but I could hear noise in the background so I knew someone was on the line. “Hello?” I repeated. “Is anyone there?”

“Bea?” a deep voice asked.

A deep
British
voice.

Oh my God.

No way.

“Yeah?” My heart was skipping and my brain wasn’t functioning. It couldn’t be him, could it? I hadn’t given him my number, had I?

“It’s Zane. From three weeks ago at the club. Remember?”

I inwardly groaned.
Why does his voice have to be so yummy?

And of course I remembered him. I would’ve had to have been comatose not to. A girl didn’t forget a man who was that good in bed. Who had handled her and talked to her in a way that nobody ever had before.

As much as I’d tried to forget, I couldn’t.

But what the hell was I supposed to say now? And why the hell was he calling?

“Um, hi,” I replied, making Felicity’s head snap up in my direction, her eyes narrowing at the way I had said it. She definitely knew that it wasn’t a client and probably knew by the way I had lowered my voice that it was a guy.

He paused and then, “I hope I haven’t caught you in the middle of something.”

The tone of voice he used made me suspect that he may have been afraid I was with someone. Like, a guy someone. I couldn’t be sure about it but the thought still made me smile, despite my best efforts not to.

“No, no. Just catchin’ up on some work from home,” I found myself saying.

If I didn’t know better, I would think that I was almost happy that Zane called me.
What is that about?

But, wait. “How did you get my number? I don’t remember givin’ it to you.” I was worried that sounded far bitchier than I’d intended for it to.

“Uhh…” he hesitated, sounding uncertain, maybe even nervous. “You called my phone that night, remember? When I couldn’t find it.”

“Oh, right.”

I’d been recovering from the so-good-it-couldn’t-have-been-real orgasm he’d given me and hadn’t totally registered what I’d been doing. I certainly hadn’t thought he would ever use it later.

Well, the matter of how he got my number was solved. But the question still remained, why was he calling?

“So, uh, I’m sure you’re probably busy, but I was wondering if you’d like to come join me and my mate for a pint.”

Whoa. What?

Did that mean that he was asking for sex afterward? Or was he simply just asking me to come out for a drink? It wasn’t as if guys hadn’t tried asking me out on dates after inviting me into their beds, despite my assurances to them that we would only share that one night together. They had, but I’d never found myself actually wanting to say
yes
before.

And I wanted to say
yes
to Zane.

What is happening?

Before I could say anything, Zane rushed to say, “But you’re probably busy. Sorry to bother you. Maybe another time.”

He was talking so fast, I was afraid he would hang up before I could respond. So, I just blurted out, “Sure.”

Silence.

Then, I heard him suck in a breath. “What?” he asked, his voice breathy like someone had just punched him in the stomach.

Man-up, Bea.

“Sure, yeah. I’ll come have a drink.”

Did that sound casual enough? I hoped so. I didn’t want him to think I was too eager and get ideas.

“Okay, great. Brilliant.” He sounded so surprised, like he hadn’t at all expected for me to agree, that I felt a weird flutter thing happening in my chest.
Not good.

Before I could change my mind, though, he was giving me the address of the bar.

“I should be there in about twenty,” I said, still not sure how I had agreed to this.

But I definitely couldn’t say no. Not after his voice sounded so giddy when he said, “Smashing. I’ll see you then.”

I hung up and took a breath, processing everything that just happened and slowly realizing that I had just agreed to see this guy out of the context of the bedroom. Skipping past the many questions bombarding me that could possibly explain why I did such a thing—I couldn’t deal with those thoughts right now—I quickly took stock of my outfit and appearance. Clothes definitely needed changing, makeup probably only called for a light touch-up, and the hair just required a quick fluff.

I turned for the stairs to go up to my bedroom, but Felicity’s gaze caught my attention. “What?” I asked her, noting the odd expression on her little pixie face.

She hesitated for only a second and then asked, “Goin’ out?”

I nodded once, eager to remove myself from her scrutiny. “Just to go meet up with a couple of friends.”

I knew it didn’t escape her attention that I didn’t mention who those friends were or the fact that I hadn’t invited her, which I would normally do unless I was meeting a guy. She knew all of this, but she must have sensed something on my face because she didn’t address it.

She just nodded and smiled softly at me. “Okay. Have fun.”

Call it sister’s intuition but I had a feeling she wasn’t going to let that go for long.

Ten minutes later I was headed out the door and over to the bar. I was usually a pretty confident person when it came to my looks. I had decided long ago that there wasn’t much I could do about the parts that God had given me aside from plastic surgery, which was never going to happen. But I couldn’t deny that I had taken extra care in my appearance tonight. I found myself questioning my outfit choice, wondering whether or not Zane would like me in what I’d picked out.

It was hot out so I ended up choosing a romper with a triangle cut-out in the back and gladiator sandals. It showed off my legs and a little of my back but it wasn’t too dressy. I left my hair hanging straight down my back, and the only jewelry I had were my watch and small studs in my ears. I didn’t know what kind of bar it was and I didn’t want to look like I was trying too hard. My makeup, though, was on point and I was proud of that.

But these were never things I normally worried about. Not to this extent.

My body felt all jittery and I had a sneaking suspicion it was because I was going to meet this guy. Someone I’d only spent one night with and someone I barely even knew. I wasn’t used to being excited over the prospect of seeing a guy. Not anymore, at least.

Not since Evan.

I didn’t want to admit to the fact that I restricted myself to having casual affairs with men because of one guy in my past, but I’d be lying if I said he had nothing to do with it.

Felicity and I had grown up with our parents in Alabama and moved to D.C. when I was twelve and Felicity was eleven. Daddy had been a congressmen and came from a long line of politicians, so we had grown up with money. We lived in one of the more affluent neighborhoods of D.C. and our family was certainly well-known in the community, both in the political and social worlds. Because of this, our daddy kept a fairly tight leash on us during our teen years, always being a little too over-protective and scaring a lot of the boys off that came sniffing around.

Then, Evan came along. His father was some successful businessman and was in the upper crust of D.C. society, running in the same circles as my father. I had been a sophomore in high school and he was a junior when he first came around and started charming me. He was the captain of the lacrosse team and I’d been completely infatuated, that whole first love thing. Because Daddy knew him and his father so well, he hadn’t worried as much about the attractive young man who was asking his daughter out and had allowed our relationship.

We ended up dating for about a year and a half. I’d thought I loved him and was beyond devastated when I found out the truth. I had overheard him one night at a party telling his guy friends that he was only dating me so he could get in my father’s good graces. He had political aspirations of his own and his father had encouraged him to put himself on Daddy’s radar by dating me, convincing him that it would bode well for his future. The second I heard that, I dumped his ass and cried myself to sleep for a week straight.

The worst part?

I’d allowed him to punch my V card.

Oh yeah. I actually let that little asshat take my virginity.

So ever since then, I haven’t had a lot of interest in investing my heart in a man. The whole experience taught me that you can’t trust everyone and that I had to guard my emotions. I had suddenly become very aware of my family’s position in the community after that and that people almost always had an ulterior motive. In fact, I think one of the main reasons that I had decided to stay in D.C. when my parents moved back to Alabama after we graduated high school was to get some distance from my father’s name. I loved my parents, of course, but it was nice to just be Bea Paxton, interior designer, and not Beatrice Paxton, daughter of Congressman Alan Paxton.

I knew that not all guys were like Evan, but this whole
only making it about sex
thing I’d been doing since college had been working for me. I hadn’t felt compelled to really pursue anything with any of the men I’d slept with, anyway. So, this arrangement was perfectly fine and I didn’t have to worry about heartache.

I made my way into the bar—my heart suddenly beating a mile a minute despite my demands that it chill the hell out—and searched the sea of tables and patrons for Zane the Sexy Brit. It didn’t take me long to spot him at a table by the wall, sitting with some guy with a beard. That must have been the “mate.”

I made my way over, finding my smile growing bigger the closer I got to him. The fact that the smile was not in any way forced was slightly disturbing. And I knew things were just getting ridiculous when I almost tripped over my own feet as Zane all of a sudden looked away from the television and met my eyes, his face immediately lighting up and showing me those perfect teeth of his.

“Hey, you made it!” he greeted me excitedly. He stood up and almost looked like he wanted to lean in and kiss me on the cheek but he stopped himself.

“Yeah, I decided that I had to show you Brits how we have fun in America.”

His mouth spread into that amazingly sexy smirk and my body once again took notice.

“Are you saying my people are dull?” he asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes which I loved. It was no secret that I was serious as little as I had to be in life.

I shrugged, unable to stop my own playful grin from forming. “I guess you’ll have to prove to me that you’re not.”

Zane chuckled and waved down to the man sitting at the table, watching us with both amusement and inquisitiveness in his eyes. “Allow me to introduce you to my flatmate, Mike. Mike, this is Bea. Mike is living in D.C. while doing his doctoral research, and he allowed me to stay at his flat while I’m over here managing the U.S. branches.”

“Nice to meet you,” I said, shaking his hand.

“Likewise, luv. So, how do you know our Zane here?” He watched us with interest as he took a drink from his beer.

“I picked him up in a bar.” I looked over at Zane to see his eyes widen and his cheeks turn a light shade of pink, which I found adorable and Mike seemed to find funny because he burst out in laughter.

What can I say, I wasn’t going to lie about my actions and I certainly wouldn’t be shy about them. I am the way I am and I own that. So, if people didn’t like me, they could at least respect the fact that I was straight with them and that I didn’t hide who I was.

“Is that right?” Mike asked once he composed himself.

I smiled. “He was bein’ particularly
dull
,” I emphasized, flashing Zane a quick glance before looking back down at Mike, “and I showed him how to have a good time.”

Zane’s face was now red with that implication and Mike laughed even harder. “I’m sure you did.”

Finally, Zane spoke up. “I don’t know if dull is the right word. I hadn’t been there that long and was scoping out the scene when I saw you.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “And not dancin’ or interactin’ with anyone else.”