“I know and appreciate it, Bentley. You seem to be on a bit of a streak at the moment.”
He laughed, the amusement softening the sternness of his features. Known as serious and businesslike, Bentley only showed his softer side to those who knew him best—and none knew him more than his wife, Emmy, who brought out a side of Bentley I never knew existed. When his daughter was born, another side emerged—the protective, loving father. It also seemed to amplify his professional zeal, and he was constantly buying up properties and land for development. Our construction crews had grown, new foremen and workers hired on. Van and his crew had just completed the renos on a new building that would house the ever-growing group of men that now worked for BAM. Van was going to be moving to the new building, and I was going to miss him as an office mate, although I would be spending a lot of time there as well. Luckily, it was only down the block from the main building so it was a short walk and I would see him often. I was sure he’d still be here a fair deal, but the space was needed.
“I’ll try to rein myself in,” he joked. “Not sure if that will happen or not. I found another piece of property in the Niagara region. It’s not protected this time, and it would make an awesome condo project. The views will command a steep price. I have an architect working on the concept.”
There was a soft knock, then Sandy stuck her head in the door. “Bentley, your one o’clock canceled. Did you want me to get you lunch?”
He glanced at his calendar. “Please. Can you reschedule my three o’clock in earlier? Maybe I could get home and surprise Emmy. We could take Addi to the park.”
“Already done.”
He beamed at her. “Thanks, Sandy.”
“Turkey on rye?”
“Yes.”
“Jordan, I’ll get our lunch at the same time. Corned beef, hot mustard, with extra pickles on the side, right?”
“Perfect.”
“I’ll get us sodas and a cookie as a treat.”
The door shut, and I turned back to Bentley, who was watching me, his eyes narrowed in curiosity.
“Having lunch with Sandy?” he asked, trying to act casual and failing. Miserably.
I nodded, gathering up my files. “Yes. It’s a lovely day. I thought we’d have a sandwich in the park. Get out of the office for a bit and clear our heads.”
“Good idea.”
“I thought so.”
“So, it’s just…lunch?”
“It’s two friends having lunch, yes.”
He drummed his fingers on the desk, then cleared his throat and tugged on his shirt sleeves. All three were tells for Bentley when he was thinking or worried.
“It’s lunch, Bentley,” I said quietly. “And anything else is private.”
“Is there something else?”
I met his gaze directly, my voice firm. “That is up to Sandy, and not something I will discuss.”
His eyebrows shot up, and then he smiled.
“I understand.”
“Good.”
I respected Bentley—all the partners—but this was private. And right now, it was nothing but lunch. The last thing either Sandy or I needed was a lecture. That would end anything before it began—that much I knew. Sandy was private and would hate it, so it wasn’t up for discussion.
“I’m very fond of Sandy,” he murmured. “We all are.”
“I’m aware.”
“She’s been having a hard time lately.”
I nodded.
“I think lunch with a friend is a great idea.”
I said nothing.
He smiled, his voice quiet when he spoke. “I think with the right person, something else—which of course would remain private—would be a wonderful thing. Between two people who care about each other, it’s always a wonderful thing.”
I wanted to laugh at his unsubtle but well-meaning speech. Instead, I remained impassive.
I stood. “Anything else, Bentley?”
He shook his head, still smiling. “No.”
I headed to the door.
“Jordan.”
I turned, my hand on the knob. “Yes?”
“Have a good lunch. Take a little extra time. As you said, it’s a lovely day. Enjoy it.”
I couldn’t help my grin. “Thanks, Bentley. We’ll do that.”
Sandy and I walked to the park behind the BAM building. I carried the bag containing our lunch, and we chatted about the office as we walked. I indicated an empty picnic bench, and we headed toward it.
I handed Sandy the bag and used my handkerchief to wipe the dust from her seat and the top of the table, then laid it on the bench before she sat down.
“What a gentleman,” she murmured.
“I would hate to see that pretty suit get dirty. It’s one of my favorites.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “One of your favorites?”
I unpacked the bag, setting out the food. “Yes. Only one of many.”
Sandy studied me. “Which are your others?”
I took a bite of my sandwich, chewing and swallowing, then sipping the cold soda to chase away the hot mustard.
“All the blue ones, the green, and that lovely rust-colored dress you wear. I like you in bold colors. They suit you.”
She blinked. Took a bite of her roast beef sandwich and chewed. Frowned and took another bite, then replied.
“I have no idea what to say to that, Jordan. I didn’t realize you noticed what I wore. Certainly not enough to have favorites.”
I opened the container of carrot and celery sticks she had ordered and chomped on one before replying.
“I do notice, Sandy. It’s hard not to. You are a beautiful woman. I enjoy looking at you.”
She stared at me, wordless.
I shrugged. “I’m simply stating a fact.”
“I see.”
I decided to go for broke. I wanted to lay my cards on the table and see how she reacted. I had played it safe before, and it went nowhere.
“With your beautiful hair and captivating eyes, it gives me a lot of pleasure to watch you.” Then I winked. “You have great legs. I love it when your skirts are a bit shorter.”
This time, she gaped. She set down her sandwich and wiped her fingers. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were flirting with me, Jordan Hayes.”
“I am.”
“I thought this was friends having lunch.”
“We are friends,” I insisted. “We’re having lunch.” I drew in a long breath. “But who’s to say there can’t be more?”
“More?” she repeated.
I finished my sandwich and wadded up the wrapper, slipping it back into the bag.
“Please eat, Sandy. You are far too thin these days.”
A soft flush of color drifted across her cheeks. It was rare I ever saw her blush, but the color complemented and highlighted her delicate beauty. But she picked up her sandwich and ate.
“I was honest when I told you I missed our coffee breaks together, Sandy. You ended them, and I always wondered why.”
“I thought it was time to move on from our sad sessions,” she confessed.
“I did as well. Why didn’t you say so?”
She shrugged. “I wasn’t sure how to. I thought…I thought you would think I was being disrespectful to our spouses. To their memories. We were getting closer and it felt—wrong somehow.”
“Why? Because you were ready to look forward and not behind you anymore? Did you think I would be upset by that?”
She sighed. “It’s complicated, Jordan.”
“Life is complicated. All of it. But it’s meant to be lived.” I rested my elbows on the table, clasping my hands together loosely. “I think both Anna and Max would want us to move forward. It’s been a long time for both of us, Sandy.” I paused. “Isn’t that what you were trying to do with Mature Matchups?”
Her eyes widened. “You know about that?”
“Van told me.”
“Why would he do that?”
I
met her gaze. “Because he knew I wanted to ask you out. Not as a friend having a sandwich in the park, but a proper date. I held back because I wasn’t sure you were ready, but when he told me, I knew I had to step forward before I lost you to some jerk-off on a dating app who doesn’t deserve you.”
A smile tugged on her lips. “I’m sure they’re not all jerk-offs.”
“Have you seen the profiles? Jesus, Sandy, even at our age, they all want one thing—and it’s not companionship. I’m pretty sure the Viagra manufacturers sponsor those sites.”
“Well then, at our age, as you so delightfully put it, there would be a lot of short relationships. Or a huge surge in the Viagra market—which apparently would lead to a different kind of surge—at least temporarily so.”
Then she laughed, trying to cover it up with her hand. I started to laugh with her, relieved at her teasing.
I risked it and reached for her hand. She let me wrap mine around hers, the softness of her skin warm under my touch. “Don’t go on a date with anyone on that site, Sandy. Let me take you out.”
“On a date?”
I laughed. “If that sounds too scary, then let’s just go to dinner and a movie. Or dinner and a show. A walk. Whatever you want.”
“It sounds as if dinner is nonnegotiable.”
“It is.”
“We work together.”
“And BAM has no policies against interoffice relationships. Hell, half the office is dating or married to each other, it seems.”
She laid her free hand on top of our joined fingers. “I don’t want to lose our friendship.”
“I don’t think we’ll lose anything, Sandy. All I’m asking is for us to have a meal together. Spend some time together outside the office. I think we’re both lonely.” I sighed. “I haven’t been out with anyone since Anna passed. I don’t even know if I’m ready. But I do know this, if there is anyone I would like to try with, it’s you.”
“Why?” she asked quietly.
“Because you’re beautiful. I’m not talking only your outside beauty. I’m talking about the person you are. Kind, smart, funny. You’re warm and loving. Sweet. And as alone as I am.” I squeezed her hand. “We’re both too young to be alone. I think we have a lot to offer the other person. And if we decide it’s only as friends, then so be it. But I want to explore it. Try it. With you. If you’re willing.”
She looked over my shoulder, thinking. I let her process my words. I hadn’t planned on jumping in so quickly, but it had happened naturally, and I wasn’t upset by my words.
As long as she didn’t turn me down.
Her eyes met mine, and something inside me settled. Her gaze was warm and open and when she replied, my heart soared.
“I would love to go on a date with you, Jordan.”
I lifted her hand to my mouth and kissed her knuckles.
“Thank you.”
Sandy
I threw yet another dress on the bed and huffed out an exasperated sigh. Nothing I tried on felt right. I looked at the pile on the mattress and wondered if perhaps the reason for that was because each dress I tried had somehow had a memory linked to Max. A dinner we went out to. The night he took me dancing as a surprise before the disease put him in that damn wheelchair. The nights I would dress up and we would share an evening together at home on a “date.”
I sat down, shaking my head. I couldn’t do this. I wasn’t ready to date another man. Even though Jordan told me to think of it as two friends sharing a meal, I knew what it actually was.
I saw the interest in his eyes when we talked yesterday. The pitch of his voice, the way he held my hand, his frank words—none of that said friend.
I reached for my phone to call and cancel, then stopped as his words to me yesterday came back.
“By the way, Sandy, I won’t be taking any calls or messages from you tomorrow. I know you’ll have second thoughts, and you’ll try to cancel. Not happening. We’re going out for dinner. Accept it and maybe, just maybe, you’ll enjoy it.” Then he winked and left the office.
I knew Jordan and his gentle ways. If I called, he would answer, and he would take my decision because that was how he worked. He would be disappointed, but he would accept it, and the next time I saw him at work, treat me no differently from any other day.
I dropped my phone back on the bed. I wasn’t sure I was ready, but I wasn’t sure I wasn’t ready.
I laughed out loud at my thoughts. Even they were confused.
Jordan Hayes was a wonderful man. We had been friends since he started at BAM. He lost his wife, Anna, over four years ago, and for a while, lost himself as well. It took him a long time to recover from his grief, and when Max died, our common bond of losing a spouse brought us closer. He was easy to talk to and understood my grief. We shared many stories, laughter, and tears, and his friendship brought me great comfort.
He was right—I did end our biweekly coffee breaks because I thought we were getting too close. Too familiar. I started to depend on those outings and seeing him, and I felt guilty. Disloyal to Max that I could already need another man’s presence in my life. So I simply stopped the outings. I remained friendly and cordial, but after inventing reasons not to go out for coffee, Jordan got the message and backed off.
Until this past week.
I stood and rehung the dresses I had been trying on back in the closet. I always did my best thinking while my hands were busy.
Jordan drifted through my mind. He was a tall man, his shoulders still straight and wide. His hair was gray, but thick and wavy. He kept it neat and brushed back from his face, and he was usually clean-shaven, although he sported neatly trimmed scruff at times which suited his strong jawline. He wore glasses for reading, his frames setting off his intense green eyes. He preferred dress pants and button-down shirts, the sleeves often rolled up, showing off his forearms. It was rare he wore a suit, but when he did, he wore it well. He was quiet and unflappable, meticulous in his work habits, and well respected in the office. He was always willing to lend a hand, work extra, or pitch in on whatever needed doing. He was well thought of by the partners, and the feelings went both ways—he thought highly of all of them. They called him the King of Paperwork and relied on him for his unfailing dedication.
He was a great man. Thoughtful, kind, and sweet. He always remembered birthdays, had a kind word to say to people, and encouraged those around him.
And I had liked the way his hand felt wrapped around mine the other day.
I hung the last dress and made a decision. I was going on this non-date date, and I needed a new dress to do so.
I picked up my purse and glanced at my watch. It was only two, and Jordan wasn’t picking me up until seven.
I could do this.
Sandy
I opened the door promptly at seven and met Jordan’s warm gaze. My constant plaguing doubts faded away as he regarded me. With a smile, he held out a bunch of irises. He leaned forward and brushed my cheek with his lips.
“You take my breath away, Sandy.”
I accepted the flowers, touched he remembered irises were my favorites, and stepped back. “Come in while I put these in water.” I walked toward the kitchen, calling over my shoulder. “Would you like a drink?”
He followed me, stopping in the doorway as I filled a vase and arranged the flowers. “No thanks, I’m good. I’ll have some wine with dinner.”
“All right.”
“New dress?”
I felt myself blush. “Yes, it is.”
He stepped closer—close enough, I felt the heat of him at my back. “For me?” he asked quietly.
My heart rate picked up, and all I could do was nod. As soon as I saw the simple, deep-blue dress, I knew it was perfect. It skimmed my breasts, fluttered around my knees, and the scooped neck was elegant yet sexy. It felt like me, and the color, Jordan had admitted the other day, one of his favorites.
He settled his hands on my shoulders and turned me around. Our eyes met, gentle green hol
ding my nervous hazel, and he smiled. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Ready to go to dinner?”
I drew in some much-needed oxygen. My stomach fluttered, and my breathing had picked up at his closeness. It felt odd…yet right. “Yes.”
He crooked his arm. “Then let’s go.”
I set down my wine, laughing. “I wish I had seen that.”
Jordan chuckled, wiping his eyes. “It was amusing. Van always makes me laugh. But watching him carry Liv out over one shoulder and Sammy over the other—all while Liv was giving him shit about something and Sammy was pretending to be queen of the castle and calling him Prince Van? It was priceless.” He shook his head. “I’m going to miss having him around every day.”
“He’ll be in and out, I’m sure. Bentley is constantly needing him for something.”
“Thank goodness for that.”
The waiter appeared, removing our plates. Dinner had been…fun. More fun than I could recall having in a very long time. The food was excellent, the wine superb, and the company perfect. Jordan was charming, funny, courteous, and the most gracious of dinner companions. We’d shared an appetizer, tasted each other’s meals, and talked the entire time. There was no awkwardness or stilted moments. The evening simply flowed.
I perused the dessert menu with a sigh. “I think I’m too full.”
“Nonsense,” Jordan exclaimed. “There is always room for dessert.”
“Says the man with the sweet tooth.”
He grinned. “I do have that. Anna used to keep baked goods on hand for me all the time. I constantly raided the cookie jar.”
I chuckled. “Max was the same. He never met a dessert he didn’t like.”
“Smart guy. Now, what looks good?”
I smiled as I went back to looking at the menu. There was nothing strange about talking about our spouses with each other. Other people tended to shy away from even mentioning Max’s name, yet Jordan had no issues at all. It didn’t bother me to hear him speak of Anna either. They were huge parts of our past lives, and it seemed almost natural to bring them into the conversation at times.
Sandy: Vested Interest #7 Page 4