Reach Me (7 page)

“I have to sleep on this,” I respond curtly, “and I want to know what all of your conditions are before I agree.”

“Understandable,” he replies, calmly nodding. “When can I see you again?”

“Well, my schedule is pretty flexible right now, so—”

“Tonight? Can I take you out for dinner so we can discuss my proposition?”

“Okay. Dinner.” My response is a little meek, but I can’t help it. I’m sitting, entranced, in front of a man who means so much to me, a man I’ve known for the better part of a decade but only just met. He’s gorgeous and intimidating and only partially what I pictured, but I can see the traces of the Russ that I’ve known for so long. It’s not just that he ditched the suit for the jeans and cotton tee, it’s simply that I feel like us. Comfortable. Safe. This is
my
Russ.

“I’ll pick you up tonight at six.” Russ stands, obviously ready to leave, and worry inundates me.

“Wait. Wait. I, uh, where are we going to have dinner?”

“Do you have a request?”

“No. Nothing like that. I just—this is embarrassing, but…” I trail off, my voice dropping as I go. I look down at my feet, wondering how to explain to this gorgeous mystery of a man that I can’t go anywhere fancy or anything because I don’t have anything appropriate to wear.

Russ lifts his hand and brushes his palm against my cheek so tenderly that I fear I imagined it. “Do you know how many times I wished I could be standing in front of you when you’re feeling this way?”

“What? Why?”

“So that I could help you look up when you’re looking down. I don’t want you worrying about anything, Linds.”

“Habit,” I explain weakly.

Russ nods subtly in understanding as his hand falls away. I find myself missing the warmth of his touch almost instantly.

“Dinner at six,” he reminds me.

“I’ll be waiting,” I confirm, and the irony of the statement is isn’t lost on me. I’ve waited so long to meet Russ. I think I would have waited forever if I had to.

I watch as Russ slips out my door and closes it behind him. Something oddly reminiscent of hope seems to bubble up somewhere just beneath the surface. It makes me think that maybe there’s something to the whole Jekyll and Hyde bit. There must be a reason why the man I’ve known all this time, the man who just left my home, seems so very different from the man I encountered yesterday in his office. Maybe Russ, my Russ, is a completely different person than Logan R. Barnett of McCullough Developing.

I take a deep breath and do my best to shut down any hope or other naïve notions that have done nothing but land me right in the middle of disaster. I’ll go to dinner. I’ll listen to his proposition. I’ll probably accept. I can’t kid myself about doing anything else. But most importantly, I will keep a level head and keep my heart safe. Dad was right all those years ago and he’s still right today. Men are trouble.

I have barely five minutes to myself to think about my chaotic situation before my phone begins to ring. My heart skips a beat thinking that maybe it’s Russ, but it isn’t.

“Hey, Bri.”

“Hey, babe.”

“Bad news,” he begins and I roll my eyes at the irony. My life is composed of bad news. “…
and
good news.”

“Oh yeah?”

“I can’t make lunch today. Boss man has thrown me a curve ball and I’m doing damage control. But, I did mention you to Jo and she said you should come in Monday morning at nine. I don’t know if working at a bookstore is something you’d be interested in, but I think she may be interested in hiring more help. What do you think?”

“That would be—yeah—I’d take it if she offered a job. Definitely!”

“Yay!” Brian sings into the phone like a Broadway superstar, winning a laugh from me.

“Thank you, Brian,” I say softly. A job, any job, would be a godsend right now.

“Uh-uh! Don’t thank me yet. Jo is a hardass and you may not want the job or she may not want you. We’ll just have to see.”

“Any advice for getting on her good side?”

“Yep! Don’t be bubbly and overly nice or anything. Jo hates that kind of stuff. Besides, I’m all the bubbly she can handle.” He giggles into the phone. “Just be yourself, babe. Truly. Jo admires people who have had it rough like her but don’t walk around like life is unfair. She likes hard workers and honesty. She’s tough on the outside but she totally has a huge heart. She just doesn’t know it yet. I’m working on it.”

I inhale deeply, trying my best to catalogue Brian’s advice but feeling seriously nervous that she’s going to hate me. “Okay, I’ll be there at nine on Monday. Thank you, Bri. Thank you a million times.”

“No problem, babe. I’m always here.”

If taking Russ up on his offer wasn’t a sure thing before, it’s sounding more and more appealing by the minute. I’m not scared of him like I’m petrified of Jo. I know he likes me. I trust him…
I trust him
. He’s something I know I can succeed with right now, and I badly need a win. If he can help me keep the apartment and Jo gives me a job, I’ll be well on my way to well-adjusted adulthood, which suddenly seems so much more than wishful thinking…

“Wait… WHAT?” Maggie whisper-yells into the phone. The speakerphone on my cell vibrates and I set down my hairbrush to turn the speaker off and put the phone to my ear.

“Yeah. That’s what happened. I just had to…
process
all of this.”

“Are you going to do it? The thirty days?”

I groan into the phone, feeling so frustrated with how everything has been playing out. “Honestly, I’m not sure yet. How’s Trey?”

“What? Oh he’s on cloud nine. We stopped by the game store and bought the new
Mortal Enemies Dark Ninja
game.”

“Don’t let him play that all night.”

“Oh, he won’t. We take turns.” I can practically see her waving away my concern. “Lindsay,” her voice turns soft, “moving back to the subject at hand—are you going to take the deal? I mean, are you going to do the thirty day thing? What exactly is
expected
of you
? Is this like
Pretty Woman
?”

I sigh heavily into the phone and contemplate everything that has been thrown my direction in the last few days. Losing my job. Getting evicted. Meeting Russ. Hating Russ. Wanting Russ. Needing to take the deal he’s offering, if only to survive…

“I’m not sure. He said he has some conditions that I need to hear and then I’ll decide, but honestly, I don’t think I have much choice. He may have a whole other side of him, but I need food and shelter and some time to find a decent job.”

“I bet he’s a weirdo with kinky fetishes,” Maggie whispers. I click my tongue at her and roll my eyes. “No seriously, I bet he likes to wear diapers and suck on pacifiers or something weird.”

“No way. He may have this Jekyll and Hyde thing going on but he isn’t like…
that
. I’m sure of it.”

“I need to see a pic and then I’ll know for sure. I have a keen eye for weirdos,” she reminds me.

“Takes one to know one, I suppose. I’ll see what I can do about that picture,” I jibe, pausing to check the time on my cell phone screen.

“Touché, hooker. Touché.”

I snort-laugh and turn back to my reflection in my bathroom mirror. “Well, Weirdo, I have to go. I’ll let you know what happens.”

“Okay. Pepper spray his ass if he gets all touchy feely.”

“Pepper spray is locked and loaded,” I lie. My bottle is expired and has been for some time, but personal security hasn’t been a priority as of late, which really means as of never. It’s a testament to just how pathetic my life has been. A can of decent pepper spray only runs ten or twenty bucks, but I haven’t had the extra cash to buy a little peace of mind. Surely life gets better than this.

I end the call and set my phone back to the countertop. 5:42 and I still have to finish my hair and makeup. Curly hair can be a true curse. I let the mass of freshly washed curls hang down my back, dry and just kind of doing its own thing. It looks okay like this. Natural. Makeup for me is a task mostly because I don’t have the greatest products. Good makeup is expensive, so everything I have is the pharmacy brand and pretty old. Thankfully I’ve never been very bold with makeup, so I keep it simple with light eyeliner, a little eye shadow that I hope makes my dark blue eyes look nice, and two coats of mostly dried out mascara. I smear on my tinted lip balm and give my hair a little tousle. A quick spray of perfume and I’m as ready as I think I can ever be.

Butterflies swarm wildly in my stomach. I take a deep breath and step back to examine as much of me as possible in the vanity mirror. I’m wearing my nicest jeans with my black peep toe heels. My shirt is nothing fancy, but it does hug me in all the right places. It’s white and has a tailored sort of quality to it which makes it look way more expensive than it actually was. It’s cotton and comfortable and quite frankly it’s one of my nicest shirts, so it’ll have to do. I lace my only black belt through the loops of my jeans and take a deep breath, doing my best to calm my nerves.

A knock at my apartment door resonates through my small home, jarring me from my silent meditation. I glance at my cell to check the time again.

“5:57,” I mumble to myself as I hurry from my bathroom to the front door. I unlock the deadbolt and swing the door open and there he is in a pair of dark blue jeans and simple jet black dress shirt. He’s skipped the tie and left the top two buttons undone, giving the ensemble a look of refined casualness. How in the hell can he pull of casual and formal at the same time?

Those green eyes that seem too good to be true lock on with mine and something carnal passes between us. I’m instantly feeling breathless and weak in the knees. Crap. I thought he was gorgeous earlier, but he’s unfathomably gorgeous wearing that dark look that all but spells out what he’s thinking—what I’m thinking. My brain is screaming to get my pepper spray. The paranoid part of me wonders if his conditions have to do with some sort of kinky deviant plans, but the hunger in his eyes isn’t deviant. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Regardless, I’m practically a virgin, and worry begins to outweigh the desire that seeing him has ignited within me. I take a step back.

Russ notices my small retreat and allows me a moment to gather my thoughts. “Ready?” he asks with his head slightly cocked.

I can’t help but feel like he’s asking so much more than if I’m ready to leave for our date. All I can do is answer honestly. “I think so.”

Russ extends his big hand to me and I take one last look at his green eyes, grab my purse off the table beside the door, and place my hand in his. I hope this isn’t a huge mistake.

He leads me in silence to the elevator, not loosening his grip on my hand at all. It’s like he’s holding on for fear that if he lets go, I’ll go up in a cloud of smoke and dust. It’s endearing and makes me warm a little to the man who wounded me in his office. I inch just a little closer to him. I guess it’s my way of saying, “I’m here. I said I’d hear you out and that’s what I plan on doing.”

Russ glances over at me and the ghost of a sweet smile tilts his lips up at the edges. I bet he has a stunning smile.

We ride in silence to the ground floor and step out into the evening air hand in hand. Russ has long legs; I must take four steps to his two. I’m guessing he’s maybe a couple inches over six feet and holy shit is he a glorious six feet of man. I openly ogle him as he steps to the curb in front of the apartment building and opens the passenger side door of possibly the fanciest car I’ve ever been invited to sit in. It’s glossy black and low to the ground.

“Wow,” I whisper as Russ pushes me gently, urging me to get in. I step closer to the car and peek inside, suddenly feeling very inadequate.
Why in the hell am I here?

He uses his free hand to tuck a blonde ringlet of hair behind my ear. “It’s just a car, Linds,” he says softly, as if he can see right through me and somehow knows that all of this is so intimidating for me.

I nod and let him help me into the front seat. He closes the door and rounds the front of the car as I run my hands over the supple leather seat beneath my thighs. I watch curiously as he presses a button on the dash and the car revs to life, sending subtle vibrations through me. It’s nice. Actually, nice is a serious understatement. This car is sex on wheels.

“What kind of car is this?”

“Aston Martin. Do you like it?” Russ asks, pulling out into traffic like he owns the pavement.

“It’s amazing. I’m afraid to touch anything,” I admit with a laugh.

“Trust me. You can touch whatever you want, Linds,” Russ says in a low, gravelly voice. He glances over to me and that same hungry look from earlier is back in his eyes.

Between him looking and sounding like that, the vibrations from his fancy car, and my ultrasensitive neglected body, I feel like I’m moments from going up in flames. Butterflies rage deep in my stomach while my cheeks burn and that tingling between my thighs picks up speed. I clear my throat and try to distract myself with idle conversation.

“First things first—what am I supposed to call you? I’ve known you as Russ for so long and now I discover that your name is actually Logan, so which is it?”