The Other F-Word (11 page)

Normally, I’d correct him because they most certainly did have cell phones, but I didn’t want to blow my chances of escape. “Tell me more.”

He chuckled and I did my best not to roll my eyes. “I’m outside in a cab. If the date is going well just say goodbye and hang up. If not, then tell him you have an emergency and have to leave.”

“Can you give me more specifics?”

“Tell him one of your kids is sick. Not Adam or Stevie because he knows them, and Adam can’t lie worth a damn. Tell him it’s Marley.”

“Poor Marley,” I said.

“So I take it you want to leave?”

“I love you very much and I’ll be there soon.” I hung up. “I’m so sorry,” I said, “I have to go.” I took out my wallet and dropped a bill on the table that was much more than my share of the meal and tip, but I didn’t feel like asking for change. He didn’t protest.

“Why?”

“My daughter, Marley, isn’t feeling well. I want to check in on her.”

“Isn’t she an adult? Are you telling me she needs her mommy?”

God, this man was pissing me off royally. “My children may be grown, but I will always be there for them when they need me.” It occurred to me I was lying in the first place. At this point, I didn’t care.

“Is that supposed to be an insult to me?”

Damn…I hadn’t meant it to be, but it did seem like a subconscious slip, since he hadn’t spoken to his son in years.

“No. I have to go. ”

“I drove you.”

“Yes, but I know you how you hate to drive so I’ll take a cab home.”

His frown deepened.

“Thank you for taking me out.”

“Do you want to go out again?” he asked with a glimmer of hope.

I could have lied and spared his feelings momentarily. I could have told the truth and risk insulting him. I did both.

“You seem like a nice man, but I’m not looking for any type of relationship right now.”

“You’re just like every other woman,” he grumbled. “Taking me for granted.”

I swallowed hard, feeling the seams of my stitched up anger ripping apart. “You’re absolutely right. I am just like every other woman. So let me give you some free advice—the kind you could probably find in a book, except you don’t read. A lady likes to be treated well. She doesn’t like it when a man talks ill of another woman. Do you know why? Because we know that’s how you’ll talk about us one day. Also, it’s not nice to pass judgement on a women’s food choices, especially when she refrains from judging yours. And finally, a girl enjoys a nice compliment. She doesn’t like to be told she’s fuck-worthy. Guess what? You’re a MILF too, which in my book means a man I’d like to forget.”

I stormed away, wondering how much money Adam and Stevie had in savings. That swear jar might need to carry them through for a while.

Chapter Eigh
t

Adam and I engaged in an apology session where we stammered out how horrible we each felt. It was therapeutic. He assured me Rod didn’t have the authority to fire him since he didn’t directly report to him. In addition, his work was exemplary. He also promised he would never try to set me up again. For my part, I told him I appreciated the sentiment of his gesture. I couldn’t stay mad for long. Adam had a way of pissing people off and making them crack up at the same time. At least one positive emerged from the experience…the swear jar was filling up nicely.

When Monday rolled around, I opted for khakis, a denim oxford and penny loafers. It was completely conservative and casual, but I added a hot pink ribbon to hold up my hair. Even if my facial expressions betrayed me, at least my outfit could convey the appropriate message to him. This was not a date.

He wore a black suit with a maroon tie imprinted with a whimsical, swirly pattern. I’d never seen maroon look so good.

“I like your tie.”

“Thank you, I like your purple boots.”

“I’m not wearing boots.”

“Not today, but you did the other day. Will you wear them again?”

My jaw dropped. It seemed he remembered my outfits too. “There are very few things they match.”

“I didn’t ask you to wear anything else with them,” he said, cocking his brow.

My stomach felt as if I’d swallowed a swarm of butterflies. “Please stop.”

“So, how did it go with Rod? I noticed you didn’t leave with him.”

I expelled a long breath, happy for the change in topic. “You noticed, huh?”

“Let me share a little truth with you.”

“I’m always up for truth.”

“Derek and I were at the sushi place across the street. I saw you walking into the steakhouse, and I just had to know what a girl like you was doing in a place like that. It wasn’t difficult to talk Derek into a steak.”

“I’m glad I could satisfy your curiosity. Now can we talk about the party like we’re supposed to?”

“I’m listening.”

To his credit, he did listen for the most part. We were half-way through lunch when he asked, “Why did you decide to be a librarian?”

“Why do you want to know?”

He shrugged, propping his chin on his palm. “You’re passionate about it. I just wanted to know how the hunger strike girl came into her profession.”

“I’ve had a lot of jobs, usually simultaneously. I loved this one the best. The people are respectful and it feels like I’m doing something important.”

“What other jobs have you had, Jessie?”

“A ton. I was a waitress, a bartender, a sales girl, a portrait photographer.”

“But this is your favourite?”

“No, being a mother is my favourite job. The pay sucks, but the benefits are like nothing else.”

He smiled, nodding. “Tell me about your kids.”

Those words were magic to a mom. Moms never missed an opportunity to talk about their children. If it was up to me, I’d have a walking billboard of how proud I was of them. So, I did. I talked about my three beautiful, intelligent, funny girls, even telling him my crazy strategy for naming each of them according to the music I was feeling the most during my pregnancy. I also talked about the three boys I’d come to love—Dillon, Adam and Rick. What mother wouldn’t be beaming with joy with a family like that?

“I bet you’re a great mom.”

I cast my eyes down, not wanting him to see the regret in my expression. “My children are amazing, I don’t deserve the credit for that. Let’s get back to this,” I said, tapping my pencil on the invitation list.

He leaned in close to me, dropping his voice. “You should take credit. No one is self-made.”

I didn’t respond and he shifted topics back to the party. I was grateful for that.

I had to stop doing this. Damien was being nice. It was obvious he was attracted to me. I was a conquest to him—a fornication session. He wanted us to participate in that naughty little four letter word. The worst part was that I was considering it, but I didn’t do one-night stands…or any stands for that matter. That part of my life was over.

“So, we’ll have to meet again to iron out the last of the details,” he said when the check came.

“I think we’re all set. I have everything I need. I’ll work with Kelly Harris from here on.” I’d spoken to her on the phone today. I’d sensed her hostility towards me, after I’d explained that I’d met with Damien for lunch several times. I wondered how intimately Damien knew her. Was she a former girlfriend? A surge of jealousy rocked my body. It pissed me off. Damn feelings—always getting in the way of things.

“I want to confirm everything. It’s important that we meet so I can stay in the loop.”

I sighed in relief. The truth was, despite my nerves, I didn’t want our meetings to end. I found myself looking forward to them, wishing the hours would tick by so I could see him again.

“I have a meeting with Kelly next week. Do you want to join us?” As soon as I asked, I regretted the question. I didn’t want to be in the same room with him and a girl he may have had a relationship with.

“No, you can handle that and report back to me.”

Why didn’t he want her to report back to him? She was his employee.

“I can just email you updates.”

“I like one-on-one in person meetings, Jessie. I’m old-fashioned that way.”

How did he always do this? I would have pondered it more, but Damien was still talking.

“I’m very busy next week, so we’ll have to meet for dinner.”

“I think you’re using these meetings as a way to date me, Mr Wolfe.”

He stared at me, the mischievous glint in his eyes growing bolder, making them look like sparking emeralds in the sun. “On the contrary, Jessie. I’ve been thinking a great deal about us.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, and I’ve come to a conclusion that you are absolutely right.”

“About what?”

“Who are we kidding? You are way too old for me.”

Damn…did he really just say that?

“Sure there would be pros to having a relationship with an older woman.” He gestured towards me as if he was explaining his philosophy to a small child. Dear God, he was probably using his library voice. “We’d probably get discounts on meals…but then again, we’d have to eat dinner at four o’clock. We’d get the best parking spots, but I wouldn’t want you driving because I’d get annoyed reminding you that your turn signal was still on from three miles ago. Plus, I’d have to constantly explain how the remote control and other various forms of technology worked.” His voice dropped to low, husky whisper, and he leaned into the table. “And the physical things that go into a relationship…and trust me when I say I’m very physical…those would be impossible. I’d eventually realise you couldn’t keep up with me, and it would be a horrible break up…for you. Of course, you’d keep in touch because I can tell that’s the kind of person you are. I’d probably get a Christmas card every year, and because you’re a grandma, it would have a check for twelve dollars in it, so there’s always that to look forward to.”

Part of me wanted to laugh at his obvious joke, but most of me was fuming. How did he elicit two such opposing emotions at the same time? I inched forward until our faces were mere millimetres apart. “Listen, cocky one, I may be older than you, but I’m certainly no senior citizen.”

He arched an eyebrow, feigning surprise.

Jerk.

“You’re not?”

“No, I’m an active, vivacious woman who would have no problem keeping up with you.”

The tables at the café were small. I think it was so it looked like you got more food. I could feel the warmth of his delicious breath as it fanned my face.

“Then act like it,” he said through gritted teeth, enunciating every word as if it was its own sentence.

He stood up, throwing down a large bill that was enough to cover three meals. “I’ll text you the details of our next meeting.” He turned to leave, but halted a few steps away, looking back at me. “You do know how to use text messaging, right?”

I shot him a scornful glance, not having anything resembling a comeback to throw at him. He left me speechless. I wasn’t sure if I was going to start laughing or swearing based on his remarks. No wonder he was so successful. The man was able to negotiate things without me even realising it. He’d basically made me denounce my own reasons for not dating him.

Sly, smart, sexy…a scandalous combination and a recipe for disaster.

Chapter Nine

Kate tried not to wince as she chewed on the brownie, but it was apparent she was having a hard time with the dessert I’d made. “What the hell is in this?”

It was a normal Friday night…or rather my new normal, since all the kids were gone. We called it Festive Fridays. Kate came over and we devoured a pitcher of Sangria, painted our nails, ate junk food and crooned along to heavy metal hair bands. Def Leppard was singing about how
Love Bites
.

Tell me something I don’t know, Joe Elliot
.

Judging from Kate’s sour expression, my new recipe was a major fail. I handed her a napkin so she could discreetly spit it out. “They’re made with beans.”

“No wonder they taste like ass,” she said, putting the rest of the brownie back on the plate.

“I hope you’re not speaking from experience,” I said, breaking off a large chunk and eating it. Her disgusted expression just made me chew with more exaggeration.

“Bean brownies, Emmie? Have you gone mad?”

I shrugged. “They’re healthy.”

“Brownies aren’t meant to be healthy.” Kate poured herself more Sangria.

“Mine are.”

Her sarcastic glance was so salty, I had to fetch a glass of water.

“Yeah, well let me give you some advice. You know how they say baking sweets is a good idea when buyers come to see your house?”

“Yes, because it smells homier.”

“Whatever you do, do not make these. No one wants to buy a house that reeks of beans.”

“Nice, I’ll try to remember.”

Her face shifted to a frown as she looked around the living room. She was Adam’s mother, my neighbour and best friend. Our families had been bound together since our children were young. Adam Senior had shown Marley how to throw a softball, Kate and I had worked on every school fundraiser together and we’d even vacationed together those rare times I could swing the funds. She was sad I wasn’t going to be here anymore, but this was for the best. It was time to move on to a new chapter. I was going to say something to that affect, but my cell vibrated before I could get the words out.

I’d admit I’d been stalking my phone, waiting for his text, like a teenage girl with an extra shot of hormones. The message was simple. A location, time and place…nothing else. I did a double-take at the restaurant he’d chosen. It wasn’t what I’d expected at all. Then again, the man was never predictable. I’d heard of the hip new adult arcade complete with its own restaurant and bar—the kind of place that served liquor and food in plastic baskets—but that’s not to say it was cheap. Credit cards were required to play the games because they were expensive, each one a mini virtual reality experience.

“I know that look. What’s up?” Kate said, staring over my shoulder. “Do you have a date?”

I chuckled. “No, not really.” It was no use keeping things from Kate. She knew me too well. She knew about the charity dinner for the library so I just filled her in on Damien’s involvement. I skimmed over his flirting and the reactions I’d had, but Kate was no fool. She read me like a sensational newspaper headline.