The Night Off (12 page)

Emily glanced back over her shoulder at the vivid image on the wall. “So where did you get her photo? Grandparents?”

“No, my father had been estranged from his family for years. And he never told me anything about my mother’s family, of course.” Nat paused, and Emily waited patiently for her to reveal more. “One day when I was in high school, I cut class and went home in the middle of the afternoon. My father worked nights—I’m half-convinced just so he wouldn’t have to see me—and he was passed out on the couch. He was surrounded by empty beer bottles, and he had these photos scattered across the coffee table. I saw one of a woman that I thought maybe looked a little bit like me, so I picked it up and saw my mother’s name written on the back. That’s when I realized my father had lied. He had pictures of her, but he was just too spiteful to share them.”

Emily tore her attention away from the photo to watch Nat’s skillful ballet in the kitchen. Despite the emotion in her voice, she never missed a beat—pouring the crepe batter into a clean skillet, then rolling it around to coat the bottom. “Did you confront him?”

“No, I took the picture and left. I went to my best friend’s house and gave it to her. I made her promise to keep it safe, because I knew if my father found it, I’d never see it again. And it meant so much to me, to see it.” With her back turned, Nat tensed her shoulders and her voice tightened. “I know it sounds silly, but finally seeing her face…it was the first time I’d ever felt like someone wanted me. Or loved me. Even though my father told me they’d never even wanted a baby, that I was a mistake, I didn’t believe it when I finally saw my mother’s eyes. They were too kind. And too much like mine.”

Emily wiped her own eyes. If Nat weren’t so busy multitasking, Emily would have already rushed over to hold her. “I’m sure they both wanted you, sweetheart. Otherwise why would your father have kept you all those years?”

“I don’t know. To punish me, maybe.” Nat gave her an apologetic frown over her shoulder. “I’m sorry, this is way too much to share on a first date. I don’t want to scare you off.”

First date.
That Nat thought of this breakfast that way implied that she saw this as more than just casual sex. And, terrifyingly, Emily was beginning to forget why that would be a bad thing. To the point where she felt compelled to reassure Nat that it would take a lot more than talking about her asshole father to dissuade her from moving forward with whatever was happening between them.

Emily laughed. “You’re talking to a woman who once came home from elementary school to find that the beautiful canopy bed her grandmother had given her had disappeared from her bedroom, sold for drugs. After that, I slept on a mattress on the floor. My parents never replaced that bed, even though they had one of their own. Colleen never had a bed at all. She went straight from the crib to the mattress with me.”

Nat flipped the thin crepe over in the skillet, shaking her head. “We had some fucked-up childhoods, didn’t we?”

“Mine only made me stronger.” That’s what she’d been telling herself for years. Even if her childhood made it difficult to trust other people, and to relax, she’d learned self-reliance at a young age. In many ways, she was grateful now. “Sure, I would’ve loved the chance to just be a kid. But instead I learned to do for myself. I stepped up to take care of Colleen. And I’m proud of that. It’s the best thing I’ve ever done.”

“You should be proud. You’re an amazing woman, Emily. Truly.” Nat leered at her playfully. “In
every
way.”

The aroma of the food hit Emily suddenly, making her stomach rumble. “So are you. Whatever you’re doing over there smells absolutely delicious.”

“Thank you. It’s just about ready.”

Emily’s thoughts strayed back to Nat’s story. She couldn’t imagine a man who could hold onto misplaced anger for so many years, to the point where he refused to show his only child a picture of her own mother. How heartbreakingly cruel. She stood and walked around the counter, watching as Nat transferred food onto two plates. “So did your father ever realize that you’d taken your mother’s photo?”

Nat bent toward the counter, applying some finishing touches to her dishes. “He was waiting for me when I came home that night. Met me at the door with his fist.”

“Ouch.”

“The school had called to tell him I’d missed my afternoon classes. He obviously put two and two together—missing picture, kid not where she was supposed to be. So he waited for me to get home and ambushed me. He slammed me up against the wall and screamed at me to give it back to him.” Nat put her spatula down, finally stepping away from the counter. She stared through the wall, clearly reliving that day. “I told him that it was gone. That it had been destroyed, and he’d never see it again. He had other pictures of her—I’d only taken one—but I wanted to hurt him like he hurt me. When I said that, he punched me, hard, in the chest.” Her hand drifted to her right breast, cradling it tenderly. “So I kneed him in the balls.”

Emily stepped forward and took Nat’s hand. This really was intense first-date material, but knowing that Nat trusted her enough to talk about such a painful memory was heady. Stunned by the gift of Nat’s confidence, she wanted to show Nat that she was here and she was listening. “Did he let you go?”

Nat shook her head. “He threw me on the floor and got on top of me. Slapped me, punched me, grabbed handfuls of my flesh and twisted, squeezed, then finally wrapped his hands around my throat. I thought he was going to kill me. Then he just stopped, and I saw fear in his eyes, and I knew—he nearly did. He nearly killed me.”

“Is that when you left?” No longer satisfied with simply holding Nat’s hand, Emily wrapped her arms around her waist and held on tight.

“Yeah, about ten minutes later. He let me off the floor and told me to pack my shit and get out. That he was done with me. I ran to my bedroom, threw as much as I could into my duffel bag, then went to stay with my best friend.” Nat gave her a gentle hug, then released her with a kiss on top of her head. “Savory crepe is ready. Let’s go sit at the table and eat. I’ll make the sweet one in a bit.”

Emily nodded. “I think I’ll have a glass of water. How about you?”

“The same, thanks.” Nat carried their plates to the table, then returned to take the two glasses of ice water that she had poured. She set them on the table and hurried to pull out Emily’s chair.

“Such a gentleman.”

Nat’s cheeks flushed pink. “Just taking care of you.”

Mouth watering, Emily took in the mastery of Nat’s dish. The crepes were beautiful, the aroma heavenly. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been served such an incredible meal—if she ever had. “Oh, wow.”

“I hope you like it.” Nat smoothed her napkin across her lap and searched Emily’s face. “Will you think I’m an idiot if I tell you that I’m nervous as hell right now?”

“Why?” Emily cut a neat bite from one end of her crepe, making sure to get equal portions of mushroom, onion, and egg. “This looks amazing. I’m sure it’ll taste the same.”

“I’ve never cooked for someone like this before.”

“Ever?”

“Well, just for my friend Bridget. But she’s known me forever. I’m long past caring about impressing her.” Nat twirled her fork between her thumb and index finger, darting her gaze between Emily’s first bite and her mouth. “You’re only the second person to try my food.”

Aware that Nat needed feedback, Emily popped the forkful of warm food into her mouth. Flavor exploded across her palette, drawing forth a low moan from deep in her chest. She closed her eyes in appreciation as she chewed and swallowed, already salivating for more. “Holy shit, Nat!” She sawed off another bite, shoveling it into her mouth with a satisfied murmur. “That’s so fucking good.”

Nat’s entire body relaxed. Grinning, she took a bite of her own crepe, nodding in agreement. “It’s not bad, huh?”

“Not bad?” Normally she didn’t talk with her mouth full, but she didn’t want to stop eating long enough to be polite. “You’re really talented, Nat. Like, seriously. I can’t remember the last time I ate something so good.” She paused to chew, wiggling in pleasure at the sweetness of the caramelized onion. “You could do this professionally. Why
don’t
you do this professionally?”

Nat shrugged, uncharacteristically bashful. “I’ve thought about it. But I don’t have any experience, I’ve never been to culinary school—”

“To hell with that.” Pointing at her half-eaten crepe with her fork, Emily said, “You can
cook
.” She fell silent, considering. “You probably make more money escorting, huh?”

“No doubt. But I can’t sell my body forever. Nor do I
want
to do it forever. I’ve been saving money for years now, waiting to work up the courage to make a change. The thought of training to be a chef…has crossed my mind.” Nat met her gaze shyly. “Thank you for the confidence boost. It means a lot.”

“You’re very welcome. Thank
you
for an absolutely incredible morning.” Emily shook her head, amused. “From the best sex to the best breakfast. Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Math.”

Emily giggled. “I guess we complement each other well, then.”

“That’s for damn sure.” Nat reclined in her chair, folding her well-defined arms over her chest. She dragged her gaze from Emily’s mouth to her breasts. “In bed and out.”

Emily warmed under Nat’s appraisal. She set down her fork and pushed her plate to the side, folding her hands on the table. “I want you to know, when I asked why you didn’t cook professionally, it wasn’t because I think escorting isn’t just as valid a choice. It totally is. And you
are
unbelievable at what you do.”

Nat sobered enough for Emily to notice a subtle shift in her mood. “Honestly, I started selling myself when I was seventeen years old—about five months after I left home—because I was homeless and a high-school dropout and I couldn’t imagine any other options. I met a man who offered to help—he’d book the clients, I just had to show up and let them have sex with me. For that I got forty percent of whatever my pimp charged. In the beginning it was really hard. I hated fucking men, and even though my pimp was a relatively nice guy, he was obviously using me. For a while he convinced me that I couldn’t make it without him.”

Emily battled a twinge of guilt. Nat had fallen into this life because she hadn’t known what else to do. People had been using her for impersonal pleasure since she was a kid—even younger than Colleen, she realized with a shudder. “I’m sorry, Nat.”

Nat smiled and shook her head. “I left my pimp when I was twenty. He wasn’t happy about it—gave me one hell of a beating, actually—but I stood my ground.” She pointed to her tattoo, half of which was obscured by her sleeve. “I got this when I stopped fucking men. A symbol of my independence.”

“So how did you end up at Xtreme Encounters?”

“I met Janis Copeland at a party only a few months later, and she hired me to work for Xtreme by promising to book me appointments only with women, which was a clientele I hadn’t even realized existed. That’s when selling sex went from being a nightmare to, honestly, a bit of a dream. I don’t always love the sex I have, but it can be fun. Most important, I know my clients appreciate me, that I’ve helped a lot of women feel less lonely—and more desired—and that’s undeniably satisfying.” With a shrug, Nat straightened and started gathering their empty plates. “But I’m pushing thirty now. It’s probably time to prove I can do more than fuck.”

Emily put her hand over Nat’s. “Whatever you decide, I’m sure you’ll be great.”

“Thanks.” Nat hesitated a moment, then covered Emily’s fingers with her free hand. “You know, I meant what I said before—about wanting to return your money. Whatever it is that we’re doing is very mutual. I don’t feel right about getting paid for any of it.”

Sensing that this was an argument she couldn’t win—and didn’t particularly want to have—Emily nodded. “Fine.”

“Good.” Nat exhaled, staring at her with dark, glittering eyes. Emily could see that she was done talking, now that their bellies were full and emotions were running high. In a single, thrilling instant, she was once again the sole focus of Nat’s primal need. “I want you again.”

Emily’s heart thumped. “Then have me.”

Nat licked her lips, then stood and carried their plates to the sink. Emily watched from the table, waiting to see what she would do next. Sexual tension hung heavy in the air, and it was only a matter of time before it exploded. But when Nat turned back around, she seemed nervous, almost uncertain.

“Will you excuse me for a few minutes?” Nat braced herself against the sink. “I need to…take care of something.”

Emily had a gut feeling that what Nat really needed was a moment to clear her head. And that was fine by her. She felt just as shaken by the intimacy between them as Nat looked. Having never before connected with someone at this level, she didn’t quite know how to proceed. She wanted to go back to bed, but she knew it was no longer just sex. Not now that she genuinely cared about Nat.

“I’ll clean up.” Emily stood and walked to the sink, touching Nat’s arm without meeting her eyes. “Take as long as you need.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

Whenever Emily became overwhelmed, she cleaned. It was the easiest way to regain a sense of control over her life. “I want to. Besides, I have a feeling nobody’s been taking care of you, either.”

“Thank you.” Nat caught Emily’s wrist as she reached for a dirty plate. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Emily could hear a trace of anxiety in Nat’s voice, like she was afraid Emily would run away if Nat let her out of her sight. Summoning her courage, she wrapped her arms around Nat’s waist and rested her head on her chest. Nat returned the hug with a grateful sigh.

No, Emily didn’t intend to leave. She couldn’t. Drawing away, she patted Nat’s bottom and edged past her toward the dishes. “I’ll be here.”

Nat escaped to her bedroom. She hated to leave Emily alone when all she really wanted was to touch her, but talking about her past had flayed her open and triggered her natural instinct to retreat. As much as she wanted to make love to Emily, she needed to get her head together before she could perform. Sharing her body wasn’t an option when she felt this exposed.