by Nicole Vidal
We trade basic getting-to-know-you questions after talking about our siblings. He loves football but hates baseball. I’m not really a sports fan in general. I’ve been to a few games here and there, but I don’t seek them out. I’m more of a concert goer. That’s something we have in common.
“Who would you go see in concert, living or dead?” I ask him.
“Dead, definitely the Beatles. Alive, I would say Billy Joel.”
“Interesting.”
“Why is that interesting?” he asks, mocking my voice.
“Did you just mock me?”
“Maybe. It’s not like you’re going to do anything about it.”
Before I think better of it, I turn to face him and reach under his arm to tickle him. Unfortunately, he isn’t ticklish, at least not there. Pushing aside his shock, Cash grabs my wrists in one hand, pinning me to the cushions.
“Don’t. Please don’t.” I narrow my eyes at him. “I don’t want to hurt you by accident. I have no control when I’m tickled.”
“You started it.” A devilish twinkle glints in his eye.
“That’s a response one of my students would give. Try harder,” I reply, not really knowing what on earth he’ll do. The weight of him of top of me is inviting. Releasing my wrists, he drags one hand down my arm, raising goose bumps along the way. Anchoring himself with that arm near my waist, he cups my cheek with his other hand while moving closer to me. Inhaling sharply, I slide one hand to the curve of his neck and the other flat against his chest. Beneath my fingers is a sculpted expanse of muscle. Slowly, he lowers his lush lips closer to mine. I search his eyes, trying to find why he’s hesitating, but come up empty.
“Kiss me,” I whisper.
The heat of his lips on mine is better than I remember. He’s gentle at first, but then the tenor turns needy. I open for him, allowing his tongue to explore my mouth while mine explores his. The scratch of his facial hair prickling my chin. He trails a path along my jaw to my ear. After a small nip of my earlobe sends a shock down my neck, he moves outward across my shoulder and back.
When I kissed him at the hotel, it was friendly. This is something else. Cassius claims and consumes when he kisses. Holy hockey! The planes of his back are hard beneath my fingers as my other hand roams. He delves into my mouth before pulling my lower lip between his teeth. The hard ridge against my center only serves as a reminder that it’s been too long since a man has been this close to me. No one has ever kissed me like this. His warmth surrounds me as he pulls back, looking down at me, his eyes pinned to mine. My breath evens out slowly.
“Was that hard enough?” He smiles, revealing those sexy dimples. All I can do is nod. I could kiss him forever. “I’ve wanted to do that since I arrived. When you kissed me at the hotel, I was surprised. I figured there was no way the heat could be that hot. I was wrong. It’s so much hotter.”
“Yes, it is.”
Cash sits back on his heels and helps me to sit up. I settle back into his arms, and we cuddle under the blanket, staring at the sky for a while before realizing the time.
“I should go.”
Nodding, I rise from the couch. I don’t want Cash to leave, but I understand. I’m sure he needs some sleep before flying home tomorrow—a home that is so far away. This may have been the best first date I’ve ever been on, but the fact he lives on the opposite coast is disheartening. We walk to the door hand in hand.
“I had a wonderful time tonight with you. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Okay.” I slide my arms around his waist and look into his eyes. Threading his fingers into my hair, he tilts my chin upward slightly and presses his lips to mine. I revel in my feelings. I’ve only wanted to turn back the clock one other time, and that moment was life changing. Perhaps this one is too.
5
Cassius
Walking away from her door is harder than it should be. Overall, I’ve known Noelle for less than a weekend, but there is something about her. She’s fiercely independent, kind to her students, and gorgeous. She’s markedly different from the women in New York. After a few hours of sleep, I return to the airport for my flight home.
Me: Good morning, beautiful. How did you sleep?
Noelle: Morning. Fine, and you? Did you get enough sleep?
Me: I did. Thanks. I just checked in at the airport. There is a sweater here. Is it yours?
Noelle: Beige, super soft?
Me: Yes.
Noelle: Yes, it’s mine. I have been looking for it. I misplaced it before the wedding. Thanks.
Me: The crew put it here after the plane was repaired. I’ll keep it until I see you. Gotta go. TTYS.
I grab Noelle’s sweater, resisting the urge to smell it only by the slightest of margins, and continue my preflight checks. After greeting Mrs. Waller, I point the plane back toward New York. There’s an uncomfortable tightness in my chest I’ve never felt before as we lift off the runway.
After spending much of my day on the phone nailing down details for my latest deal, I leave the office for the gym. I would like to rush home and talk to Noelle, but she won’t be out of work for another few hours I suppose. My desire to talk to her again is high. I want to hear about her day with the kids and see if Annaliese planned our wedding yet, especially since Noelle didn’t dispel the notion that we’re a couple at the pier.
My gym is ultra-exclusive and caters to men with means like me. I have no concerns about who I might see or if photos will be taken of me during my workout. Stacy, Kip, and Danny are in the locker room. After two nods and a bro hug, we move on to our workouts. Men are different in their interactions with their friends or gym mates. We don’t talk. We’re here to sweat out our problems, not use our words. If words are necessary, so are beers.
I receive a nod from my trainer as I enter the ring. Evan kicks my ass regularly to help me stay in shape. We circle each other, throwing punches and body shots. Jab, cross, body shot. Thirty minutes into sparring, Evan lands a strong uppercut. I drop to the mat, rubbing my jaw.
“C, are you okay?”
“Yes,” I reply from the mat. Perhaps I should focus on Evan’s gloves rather than the feel of Noelle’s curves in my arms, the taste of her on my lips, and the ease of our conversations, even though talking about my family is typically a no-go zone for me.
“Where is your head? It’s clearly not here. What’s her name and does she have a sister?” Evan offers me a hand up.
“How do you know there’s a woman?” I inhale a few times, taking the reprieve his questions give me.
“C, I’ve known you since college. We shared an apartment. I saw the revolving door that was your bedroom. I don’t think you ever slept alone. I know that look well on other men’s faces. You met someone, and she isn’t a one-night type of woman.”
I guess we will be using our words without beers.
“Her name is Noelle. I met her a few weeks ago through a client. It’s a long story, but I went out with her on Saturday.”
“She’s still got you tied up in knots. I need to meet her. I’ve never seen you like this. Ever. Not once.” Evan smacks his gloves together, indicating he’s ready to continue kicking my ass. Instead of answering with words, I spend the rest of my hour turning the tables on Evan. The last thirty minutes are hard. My time at the gym has done nothing to clear my head of my auburn-haired stunner. My? Luckily, Evan has another client right after me, so he can’t grill me more. I hurry through the locker room, gather my clothes, and head home.
As I walk, I consider whether I could pull off a trip to see Noelle this weekend instead of waiting. Unfortunately, I can’t. I promised Auggie I would go over his business plan with him and offer support at my parents on Sunday morning. I dread trips to my parents’; there’s always an ulterior motive—typically, one that includes me finding a wife before I’m old, gray, and impotent. Just because Margaux had all of us by my age, twenty-eight, doesn’t mean that I need to do the same. Plus, my attempts to explain to her that her idea of a
suitable wife doesn’t match what I desire in a partner have been ignored.
“Good evening, Arthur,” I say as I enter the building.
“Mr. Morgan. Here is your mail and a package. Have a nice evening,” he replies with a smile.
“You too.” I step into the elevator.
After a boiling shower and a quick dinner, I settle on the terrace to call Noelle. It’s a gorgeous evening to sit outside. I need a way to jump into a novel and borrow Hermione’s time turner. Just hearing her voice isn’t going to be enough. How I know that already is surprising.
Me: Are you free?
Noelle: Yes.
I call via video chat so I can see her beautiful face. Not only am I rewarded with her face, but she’s wearing a low-cut tank top and a thin cardigan. It must be warm today.
“Hi. How was your day?”
“Meh. I had another issue with a parent today. It will probably be the last straw at this job. I’ve been looking for another one since her first complaint about me.”
“What happened? Start at the beginning.” I don’t like that she had a crappy day, but hearing her voice relaxes me.
“About six months ago, I noticed that a student, I’ll call him M, was falling behind. He’s almost three years old. I suggested to the owner that he should have a screening to check his development. Was her consent necessary? No. I could have done it on my own, but it’s her company, so I felt I should ask. Instead, my boss decided to bring it to the parents’ attention herself. The owner and I had a lengthy discussion with the parent who decided against having the screening.” She pauses, taking a moment. Her brows furrow with frustration. I hate that she’s bothered by this.
“What do you think is wrong with him?” I hope to pull her back to the reason she wanted the screening.
“I think he’s autistic. He doesn’t like when people touch him. He doesn’t always respond when we call him and can’t put words together like he should. A few weeks ago, the mother complained that the center is failing because M can’t do some of the things his peers can. My boss pulled me in again, asking what can be done.”
“You’re correct that M is behind?”
“Yes, I am. I’m sorry, we should talk about something else. This is boring.”
“Absolutely not boring at all. If I tried to explain my job to you, it would be boring. You’re genuinely concerned for M and want him to thrive. There is nothing boring about that. It shows you care about your students. What can you do?”
“Are you sure you want to listen to all of this drama?”
“I want to talk with you about whatever is bothering you. If you need to vent about your boss and ways to help M, I’m here to listen. Plus, I want to know about our tiny date crasher, Annaliese.”
“He needs to have a screening to see how far behind he is. I estimate he’s about eight months behind where he should be. He’ll need support for the rest of his schooling life. Enough about me, tell me about your day.”
“As you know, I’m a venture capitalist. I connect investors with entrepreneurs who are looking to start a new business or grow their current business. Basically, I spend my days looking over reports, prospectus, and business plans to find a good fit for my client’s or myself.”
She leans forward to grab her drink inadvertently offering me a glimpse of her lacy bra.
“What was the best project you ever invested in personally?”
My brain short-circuits for a minute. I need to gather my thoughts before answering her. Not only was the glimpse spectacular, but it was unintentional, which makes me feel slimy. I feel guilty, not only for looking but also for my physical reaction to her even thousands of miles apart. “There is a group home for veterans on Long Island that I invested in personally. They provide programs to get service members the treatment they need, as well as temporary housing if necessary. I still sit on the board.”
“Any special reason you chose that project?”
“My college roommate’s dad was a marine. He was severely injured while serving our country. Unlike me, Evan and his family didn’t have the means to get him the support he needed. I couldn’t help Mr. Arnold, but the home helps other men and women like him.”
“That’s impressive. You surprise me, Cash.”
“Why?”
“You’re aren’t like most successful men.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Yes, it is. Most successful men, at least the ones I meet here, are self-absorbed, pompous, and don’t pay attention. No way would they remember the name of my student. It’s rare that someone who is successful and has means isn’t a total jerk. I’m glad you’re different.”
“Thank you. So, tell me about our matchmaker. I think she had our wedding planned in her mind.”
She smiles and fills me in on Annaliese and the rest of her evening at the pier. We chat a bit more before I turn in. Generally, I sleep well, but a tall, red-haired beauty stars in my dreams, keeping me up all night.
6
NOelle
“I’m here, so the party can start,” Kate shouts when she arrives at Kiely’s Tavern, a local hole-in-the-wall bar. We’ve been frequenting the small bar every Thursday since college. Not only does the bartender, Keyton, still honor our college IDs, but he gives us half-off appetizers whenever we arrive. A Chris Hemsworth doppelgänger, the bartender has been courting Kate for years. He’s good-looking, if you like insanely built, light brown hair, and piercing blue eyes. Keyton does nothing for me, but he’s precisely Kate’s type.
Now, tall, dark, and handsome Cassius does do it for me. Not only is he hot, but his mouth should come with a warning label. No man has ever kissed me like that before. If I were standing, I would have liquefied into a puddle at his feet. The heat was indescribable. He correctly classified our kissing as hotter than at the hotel.
“You never told me about your date. How was it?”
“It was nice, Kate.”
“Nice. Okay, fine. The real question is are you going to see him again.”
“Yes, I’ll see him next weekend when he’s back for work.”
“He doesn’t live here?” Kate asks, as if that should be a deal breaker for a second date.
“No, he doesn’t. It’s just a second date, Kate. It isn’t as if we’re going to get hitched—well, Annaliese thinks we will, but….”
Keyton makes a special trip from behind the bar to deliver our food. I don’t miss the looks he’s sending Kate, but she seems oblivious.
“How was your date with Kellan?” I ask after Keyton returns to the bar.
“Fine, he isn’t the one. There’s no… fire. I can take him or leave him. That isn’t what I want long-term. There has to be fire.”
“I agree. Maybe you should consider accepting Keyton’s invitation.”
“Maybe I will. Why did you say yes to a second date with Cash if you know he lives far away?”
With a sigh, I consider my words carefully, knowing Kate will twist them. “When I kissed him at the hotel, it was a friendly, thankful kiss. It was impulsive. I was grateful he was able to get me to the wedding in time. I took him by surprise. Even then, I felt something. When he kissed me on Saturday, the heat was impossible to ignore.” I keep replaying every single delicious second over and over in my head, remembering the taste of him on my lips and the heat of his hands on my body coupled with his instant arousal. The combination makes for fitful nights of sleep.
“Can’t say I have ever felt like that just from a kiss.”
“Me either. Hence, the second date. He’s here at least twice a month, usually more.” I decide not to offer more information about Cash and his jobs. Even with my limited knowledge of the financial world, it’s enough to know he’s likely in the same tax bracket as Nicholas or close to it. His paycheck likely has three more zeroes each pay period than mine. It’s surprisingly refreshing that he’s like Nicholas in that he doesn’t throw his wealth around. If he wanted to, he could have taken me to a Michelin-rated res
taurant in a hired car last week. He didn’t, and for that I’m grateful.
We’ve been texting often and talking nightly, usually via video chat. I like being able to see his expression when he answers me.
I’m a tad tipsy when I call him tonight after Keyton called us an Uber.
“Heeeyyyy, hot stuff! How are you?”
“Hey,” he says hesitantly, concern marring his gorgeous face. “Did you drive?”
“No, of course not. I only had one drink with Kate, but my burger was too rare, so I didn’t eat it. Hence, I’m a bit buzzed.”
“Are you home?” I can still hear a bit of concern in his voice. It’s sweet. He touches his jaw as if he’s in pain.
“Yes, I’m home.” I recheck the door before moving into my bedroom. I plop down on my bed, lying on my belly.
“Noelle, baby, I need you to either shut off the video or roll over.” His voice sounds strangled. Heat rushes straight between my thighs.
“Why?” I look down. “Fish sticks!” At least my bra is sexy. Generally, my workday lingerie is more comfort than anything else. I need to do laundry, so today’s is a bit sexier than normal for a school day. I grab a fluffy throw pillow and put it under my chin to block his view.
“Thank you. That view was way too tempting considering how far away you are. Do your panties match? Did you just say fish sticks?”
“Yes, I match. I can’t curse at work. I have a bunch of substitutes: fish sticks, holy hockey, croutons, fire truck, and shitake. If I do curse, the situation is extremely good or extremely bad.”