by Roya Carmen
"I'm here," was all she could manage. She knew she had always been a little distant, too often caught up in her writing to give Kirsten the attention she deserved. She vowed to change that, especially now that her daughter really needed her. "Anything you want," she went on. "Shopping, mani-pedis?" Even as she said the words, she knew these things weren't her daughter's cup of tea. Her daughter was so different than her. She never quite understood it. Kirsten wasn't into all that posh girly stuff. For her, it had always been just about books. "I know it's not really your thing, but a day at the spa could do you good."
Kirsten smiled at her mother. She was trying so hard to make her feel better, and surprisingly it was working. Yes, perhaps a nice massage could be nice. And a little girl-talk with her mom over a latté. There was more to life than boys. After all, she still had her job, her health and her passions; reading and writing. She would follow her mother's lead, and just avoid talking about him, and thinking about him.
"Sounds good, Mom."
Lorraine shot her a playful smile, fine lines etched at the edges of her sparkling green eyes – even the Botox couldn't get to those. "Atta girl," she cheered with a bounce of her thick red curls.
"Like getting dumped wasn't bad enough," she told her mother. "Guess who I ran into at the elevators."
Lorraine smiled. "Your arch-nemesis," she ventured, "...the beautiful Ethan Fox."
Kirsten's eyes grew wide. "How did you know?"
"Just a hunch," she said. "You always get a certain look when you talk about him."
Kirsten frowned, thinking about the arrogant neighbor she just couldn't seem to shake. "A look of annoyance, you mean?"
"He's not so bad, Kirsten," she argued. "You're too hard on him. He's a nice young man."
Kirsten laughed out loud, and she didn't fail to notice the irony, and how odd it was that she would be laughing a mere hour after the most devastating break-up of her life. But her mother's comment had cracked her up because Lorraine was known for fancying younger men. She even currently had a handsome boy-toy. At thirty-five, Max was much younger than Lorraine, and only ten years older than Kirsten.
"Oh Mom," she said, still laughing. "We all know how you love young men," she couldn't help but say. But her laugh soon faded when she realized that at fifty-one, her mother's love life was much more exciting than her own would ever be. She had always wanted to be like her mother; charming, vivacious, and full of life. But she was the serious one. Someone had to be.
"Hell, life is short, Kirsten," Lorraine said, suddenly serious. "That's why I don't want you to dwell on this break-up... you need to move on."
Kirsten's heart sank again. "But Mom... five years."
Lorraine shook her head. "I don't care how many years you've wasted on that little scoundrel, but you're going to move on."
Kirsten nodded like a little girl being scolded.
"And to be completely honest with you," her mother went on. "I've always thought he was a bit too straight for you. I think you need someone more fun, someone who can add a little excitement to your life. Sometimes opposites attract, sweetie."
"So what are you suggesting, Mom?" Kirsten asked, slightly annoyed by her mother's antics. "That we go out clubbing, pick me up a rebound fling?"
Lorraine shook her head. "Oh no, no," she insisted. "It's too soon for another relationship. I was thinking you just need to have a little fun, try to live a little, act your age for a change."
"I'm perfectly fine living the way I live, Mother."
"I know, I know, Kirsten." She smiled sweetly at her, just the way she always did when she was up to something. "You just need someone to shake you up a bit, to bring you out of your shell... to loosen you up."
Kirsten sighed. "But you know I don't really have any friends." It was sad, but true. She had always been very introverted, and didn't need a lot of friends. But she would have liked at least one, a nice girl like herself she could confide in, and possibly occasionally gossip about her mother.
"No worries," Lorraine quipped. "I have just the right person for the job."
2
Ten for super-hot!
Kirsten squared her shoulders. "Hell, no."
Her mother shot her a playful look. "C'mon... he's really not so bad."
"Are you kidding me?" Kirsten scoffed. "He's the most pretentious man I've ever met. He struts around like he's God's gift to the world. I don't think he's ever addressed me by my name," she pressed on, determined to make her mother understand how much she despised the man, "even when I've repeatedly told him my name."
Lorraine laughed out loud. "That's just how Ethan is," she pointed out. "He doesn't address me by my name either. He likes to call me 'the beautiful Mrs. Beals,'" she added with a flip of her hair. "I kind of like it."
Kirsten rolled her eyes. God, even her mother was falling for this guy's tricks. But one thing was for sure – the smooth and sleek act wasn't working on Kirsten at all. Although she did not deny the fact that her dreams suggested otherwise.
"You're wired way too tight, Kirsten," Lorraine told her daughter. "He's just having fun with you. Just go with it."
Kirsten slouched back on her mother's smooth white leather sectional, staring up at the glittery chandelier above.
"This is exactly why I want you two to paint the town red," Lorraine went on, a glass of wine in her hand. Red wine had been deemed absolutely necessary for the occasion. It wasn't every day that your daughter got dumped. "Ethan is wild... he's fun... he could teach you a thing or two."
Kirsten smirked as a naughty thought flickered swiftly through her jumbled thoughts. Yes... she was sure he could. A guy like that could teach her more than a thing or two. She bit her lip to clear her head.
Jeez...
"Well, anyway, I've decided to invite him for dinner. This is my condo, after all," Lorraine pointed out with a tilt of her head. "And I can invite whom I wish to invite."
Kirsten shot her nose up. "Well, I can just make myself scarce."
Lorraine scowled at her daughter. "You will do no such thing," she insisted. "You will be here and you will make your famous Boeuf Bourguignon."
Kirsten sucked in a breath. She was a grown woman, free to make her own decisions. But she would never ever hear the end of it if she refused. Her Diva mother would sulk for days and give her the silent treatment. And she just did not have the patience for her mother's shenanigans.
She sighed as she conceded, "Fine..." she said, the word clipped. "But he's here for two hours tops. Any longer than that and I will physically kick him out myself."
Her mother laughed. "I highly doubt you'd be able to do that, sweetie. He's about twice your size."
He stood at the door, holding a bouquet of white roses, eyes gleaming. He wore his usual annoying smirk. "Hey, dragonfly."
He had said two words and had already managed to get her going. She smiled tightly at him, and took the flowers when he offered them.
"They're for your mother," he explained, "and you," he added with a little jerk of his head.
It was kind of sweet – the flowers. And he was dressed so nicely; a crisp white shirt and stylish slim-fit dark jeans. She had never seen him dressed casually before. He always sported the designer suits. Obviously he had made an effort. She couldn't quite look at him when she thanked him. "Please, come in."
He followed her to the living room and sat down on the white sectional. He smirked a little as he studied his surroundings. He seemed at odds with the ultra-feminine room. "This is kind of how I pictured the place."
Kirsten raised a brow, curious. "You've pictured our place?"
He shot her a wide grin. Kirsten looked away, knowing she had pictured his place too. She imagined it filled with sleek designer furniture. Lots of black leather. Weird modern art, and empty pizza boxes. A certain billowy headboard had also prominently featured in her steamy dreams. Truth be told, she was a little disappointed with herself. As much as she loathed the man, her petulant libido seemed bent on fight
ing her at every corner. "Um... would you like something to drink?” she asked, feeling one size too big in her own skin. God, what was taking her mother so long?
"I'll just have a water please," he said quietly as he studied her, all traces of his smirk gone. "Thanks."
She practically sprinted to the kitchen. "I'll get that for you right away."
She wanted to throttle her mother for putting her in this situation. She was introverted and never did quite as well as she would have liked in such social occasions. And especially when it came to tall, beautiful, arrogant men. She walked briskly to the living room and sat his drink down on the glass coffee table, not forgetting to place a coaster under the bottom of the glass. He smiled tightly at her and she scurried away awkwardly to her mother's room.
"What's taking you so long?" she asked her mother, the words a whisper. "You're being rude, Mom."
Lorraine smiled widely as she put on her dangling silver earrings. "All this doesn't happen as quickly as it used to, darling," she told her daughter, staring at her reflection. "A lady must always show her best self when a handsome gentleman comes calling."
"Oh please," Kirsten whined, tired of her mother's antics.
"Don't 'oh please' me Kirsten... you could have made a bigger effort," she pointed out. "What exactly is that furry shirt you're wearing?"
Kirsten looked down at her grey pencil skirt and short-sleeved pink fuzzy shirt. "What?... it's soft."
"Just because you're a librarian, Kirsten, doesn't mean you must always dress like one."
Kirsten followed her mother out of the bedroom, concluding that it was best not to take fashion advice from a fifty-one year old woman who wore flashy sequined purple tops.
Lorraine threw her arms out when she saw Ethan.
He stood to greet her. "If it isn't the beautiful Mrs. Beals."
'Oh please...' Kirsten thought, looking down at her silver watch. One hour and fifty-two minutes to go.
"Wow," Lorraine cheered. "Thank you so much for the beautiful roses," she offered as she bent down to smell them, her silicone-filled cleavage in full evidence.
Ethan sat back down on the sectional, his long legs looking at odds. "Thanks so much for having me."
"Oh," Lorraine said as she sat down next to him. "It's our pleasure. We'll have a grand time. Kirsten here, is quite the cook. She's making a delicious Boeuf Bourguignon."
Kirsten could feel the blush creep up her body. She smiled shyly and wondered why she was suddenly behaving so strangely. "Uh... you're not vegetarian, are you?" she asked. He could have been. She had no clue.
"No, I'm a red-blooded American," he smirked. "I love a good steak."
"Well, you'll enjoy Kirsten's cooking then," Lorraine told him. "She's amazing."
His gaze lingered on Kirsten, his expression serious as he added, "I believe it."
Kirsten felt herself get weak at the knees. And she kind of wished she could kick herself straight.
Ethan dug into his meal with gusto. Mrs. Beals had been right. Kirsten was an amazing cook. How odd. She didn't seem like the type who would cook or eat much. She was such a tiny little thing. She was a quirky little thing too.
He noticed her the week he had moved into the loft building about a year before. She was carrying a huge pile of books. She was practically wobbling over. And when he offered to help, she scoffed. He introduced himself, waiting for her response. She simply nodded. And then came a small smile, here and there. But mostly it was looks of nonchalance. He didn't quite know what he'd ever done to her. He knew he came off strong with strangers but that was just him overcompensating. She wasn't giving him an inch. It had been hard getting to know her, practically impossible in fact. When Mrs. Beals extended an invitation to dinner, he jumped at the chance to break bread with his sister's favorite author. He even brought a copy of her latest hardcover for an autograph.
But he also wanted to get to know Kirsten too. The after-shave wasn't for the famous romance writer. It was for Kirsten. He didn't usually have to work hard to attract women. They flocked to him. A couple of drinks at his favorite spot and he'd be leaving with a gorgeous piece of ass. So why was he so intrigued in Kirsten's? It was looking perky and delicious, tucked in her little tight reasonable grey skirt. Thick framed glasses, conservative outfit, up-do. She was the complete opposite of the women he dated. Perhaps that was just it. He couldn't say he was attracted to Kirsten Beals, exactly. Or perhaps it was the chase he was after. He was like an animal in captivity. His prey usually came so easily to him. And Kirsten was absolutely off the menu. For one reason, she didn't seemed charmed by him at all. And for another, he was pretty certain she had a rather serious boyfriend, an uptight type he had seen her with. Maybe he was just looking for a challenge. Perhaps he was just bored.
"So, Ethan," Lorraine ventured. "How is business going?" She and Ethan were the ones carrying the conversation, idle chit-chat. Kirsten was mostly quiet, with a certain air of indifference. She truly did not seem to like him. This was new to him. Everyone liked him.
"It's been busy, as always," he replied with a quick glance in Kirsten's direction. She was twirling her fork around in her salad, acting like she was at a dreadfully boring work dinner.
It was time to stir things up.
"That's typical in the tech world. We're always coming up with new apps," he went on. "Right now we're working on this silly app where you can take a photo of someone and the app rates them on a scale of one to ten," he added with another glance in Kirsten's direction. She perked up. "Ten for super-hot."
Lorraine laughed softly. "Why, that does sound fun," she said with a playful grin. "I wonder how it would rate me."
"A ten," Ethan cheered. "For sure."
She laughed heartily. Ethan really liked Lorraine. She was so fun and young at heart. He was always chatting her up when he ran into her. It was hard to believe she and Kirsten were related. Kirsten seemed as uptight as they come. How he would love to loosen her up, he found himself thinking and shook his head. Damn, where was his mind?
"Very important work you folks are doing," Kirsten chimed in, finally giving them the courtesy of participating in their conversation. "You'll surely change the world in no time."
Her condescending tone got to him a little. It was time to play. "I suspect you wouldn't rate too well, shorty," he said with a smirk. "The app gives extra points for a um... a voluptuous chest."
Lorraine laughed out loud, throwing her head back. "I would get those extra points," she said. "But you're right, Kirsten would get a big fat zero in that department."
Kirsten glared at her mother and helped herself to some more red wine. She looked as if she needed it. He enjoyed getting to her. It was fun to see her fuming, her stuck-up air of decorum fading slowly.
"Sounds like a very classy app," Kirsten chirped.
"You'll have to excuse Kirsten," Lorraine offered. "She's feeling a little cranky. She's just been dumped."
Kirsten jerked toward her mom, slack-jawed and wide-eyed. "Mother!!"
“What?" Lorraine quipped. "It's the truth. There's no shame in it. The jerk dumped you cold after five years, to go run off with a yoga instructor."
Now, it all made sense to Ethan. Why Kirsten had been so pissy this past week. She had never been super friendly, but at least, she was usually civil. But today...
"I was telling her she should just get on with her life and forget all about him."
"Easier said than done," Ethan offered with another glance at Kirsten, who couldn't seem to look at him. “Break-ups are hard." Even as he uttered the words, he knew he was full of it. He had never been heartbroken because he had never cared. Casual sex was his life and he liked it that way.
"I was telling Kirsten," Lorraine went on, "that she should get out more... go clubbing, have a little fun."
Kirsten rolled her eyes and slouched back in her chair. Ethan enjoyed seeing her so disheveled. It was quite entertaining.
"But the problem is she doesn't really have
any friends—"
"Mother!!"
"That's when I thought about having you over," Lorraine plowed on, completely ignoring her daughter's objections. "I thought you could show her the town, bring her out of her shell a little.”
Ethan was taken aback. He hadn't expected this. Sure, he had been curious when Mrs. Beals had invited him for dinner. He was at a loss for words as he quickly glanced at Kirsten who was staring down at her skirt. Yes... his feisty little dragon wasn't so feisty after all. She looked more like a scared vulnerable little girl. He felt sorry for her. He decided to stop playing games. "I'd love to," he cheered. "I think that would be fun. I know a place I think you'd really like, Kirsten."
At the sound of her name, she raised her head slowly to meet his gaze. He was lost in her for a second or two. She had the most beautiful big brown eyes he'd ever seen.
It was the first time she heard her name on his lips. There was something very sexy about his voice, soft and low. And when he said her name, her heart had skipped a beat. And when she had looked up into his eyes, his gorgeous blue eyes were like a beautiful invitation, on ivory textured paper with golden edging, embossed scripted font and pretty ribbon. How could she say no?
The idea of painting the town red with Ethan sounded rather exciting. He may have been a little arrogant, but he sure seemed like the kind of guy you'd have a good time with – that, she couldn't deny. And perhaps, fun was just what the doctor ordered. It sure beat watching sappy romantic comedies and drowning herself in pints of ice cream. A little dancing might be a bit healthier.
She smiled shyly at him without a word. A night out or two. It wouldn't be the end of the world.
"We'll have fun," Ethan promised with a wide smile, turning to Lorraine.
"That's exactly what my little girl needs," Lorraine said. "A little fun. She needs to forget all about Logan."
"Logan..." Ethan said. "You two were serious?"
Kirsten tilted her head, not wanting to talk about Logan. "Yes... I thought he was going to ask me to marry him," she confessed. There was something about Ethan that made her suddenly want to tell him her whole story. There was a gentleness in his words and voice that was quite inviting. "But he dumped me instead."