Single Mom's Protector - Complete Series

by Nella Tyler

  “Really, I think it’s probably best for both of us if I just go home,” I said. “I’ve been off of the pain pills for most of the day, and my knee and wrist are still pretty out of whack. I think I’m going to go home, take half a pill, and see if the babysitter will stay for another hour while I nap.”

  “Are you sure? I could call you a cab, or something like that,” Zeke said.

  “That’d just mean I’d have to take a cab back here tomorrow to pick my car up,” I pointed out. “I apologize for blowing up at you—I shouldn’t have let myself get so irritable.” I collected my golf ball from where it had landed near the hole. “I really do think that it’s best if I just go home and rest up a bit.”

  “Okay,” he said, still looking more than a little worried. “Please text me to let me know you arrived home safely.”

  “I can do that,” I said. It was actually a pretty kind precaution on his part. We went back to the front of the mini-golf place and turned in our balls and clubs, and I limped into the parking lot, feeling thoroughly sorry for and ashamed of myself. I could feel Zeke watching me as I made my way to my car, and I unlocked the door and climbed in as quickly as possible, wanting to put as much distance between myself and the disaster of a session as I could as quickly as possible.

  I pulled out of the parking spot I’d taken, shaking my head at my own outburst. How had I let myself get so irritated, so consumed with petty jealousy that I lashed out at a client over what was perfectly understandable excitement? Zeke’s probably mostly thrilled that he could even have a successful date with someone, I pointed out to myself as I started for home. For someone in his position, who gave up on dating a long time ago because it never seemed to go anywhere, the night out with Brigitte would be a revelation.

  I pushed that thought aside, the other part of my mind countering that even if I excused his enthusiasm, the fact that he had basically refused to pay attention to the cues I was giving him was testament to his self-absorption. I had tried to change the subject at least four or five times, and every single time, he had managed to turn the conversation back onto the woman he had gone on a single date with. He was completely wrapped up in the fact that Brigitte—an ambitious, career-oriented woman with no kids who was somehow exciting to him—had accepted his offer of a date that he hadn’t even cared whether or not I wanted to keep talking about it.

  But then, I countered myself again. I could have changed the subject more directly; I could have told Zeke that I didn’t want to talk about his date long before I became so irritated at his continued insistence on that topic that I blew up at him. I could have been proactive. But I had been obsessed with making sure that I wasn’t obviously reacting for my feelings towards him—conflicted and confusing as they were—that I had tried to keep myself from saying anything at all at the risk of making it seem like I was being petty and jealous. And, considering how I blew up at him, that worked out super well, I thought sarcastically. I had potentially screwed up my working relationship with Zeke because I hadn’t been able to bring myself to deal with what he was doing.

  I did give myself a certain amount of leeway for the fact that I was still in more than a tiny bit of pain from the assault I’d been subject to at Nathan Giles’ hands a week before, but I knew without even having to question it that the greater part of my issue was my feelings towards Zeke. If I couldn’t even handle him being excited about a single first date with someone I didn’t even know and had never even heard of until he mentioned her, how was I going to deal with the feedback and discussion of dates that he would have in weeks or months to come? When Katie finally started pairing him up with women that she’d decided would be compatible with him, how was I going to keep my professional distance, if I couldn’t make myself stay professional with one date?

  As I pulled up to my apartment building’s entrance, I thought to myself that I was an idiot. I shook my head, grateful that things hadn’t gotten uglier than they had, but also certain that I’d hear from Katie in a matter of days. She’d tell me that Zeke had complained about me, and I’d end up telling her the whole story. I might even get fired for my trouble. As I found my assigned parking spot, I thought that if I wanted to save my job, I should probably go to Katie at the first opportunity and ask to be reassigned, or at least taken off of Zeke’s case. I clearly couldn’t deal with him continuing on in the program.

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Zeke

  I stretched against the tightness in my neck and shoulders, glancing at the screen of my phone; I was supposed to be home an hour ago, but I’d stayed late at work. It had been the third time in a week that I’d decided to do that, and I was starting to run out of reasons to do it. Just text her. See if she feels like talking. What’s the worst that could happen?

  I hadn’t seen Natalie in a little over two weeks, since she’d blown up at me at the mini-golf place. Katie had asked me a week before if I was still interested in continuing my coaching sessions—and she hadn’t mentioned anything about Natalie dropping me as a client—but I hadn’t been able to give her a real answer. The truth was that I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to keep going or not. I knew that I wanted to see Natalie again, but I didn’t quite trust my reasons.

  I sighed. Nothing was going to solve the problem until I talked to Natalie again; I was being a coward not to at least see if she wanted to keep me as a client, work with me the way that she had for weeks before the incident between us. You’ve taken a long enough break. You can get in touch. I looked at my phone again and started to reach out to grab it, but stopped. If Natalie had wanted to get in touch with me, wouldn’t she have done it by now?

  This is bullshit. Just text her. I picked up my phone and unlocked the screen, thinking about what I should say. After a moment, I opened up the message thread with her and started typing. Hey! I hope you’re fully recovered from that incident with what’s-his-face. How have you been? I tapped send and set my phone aside, turning my attention back onto my computer. I would do a little work, wait and see if she replied, and then I’d go home.

  A few minutes later, my phone vibrated and I snatched it up, unlocking the screen again. I’m feeling much better! Sorry I haven’t been in touch. I thought about it—did I really want to call Natalie? She hadn’t given me much of an opening. I texted her back, asking if she was free to talk on the phone. I have probably about fifteen minutes before I need to leave and pick Brady up from his grandparents’ house. Fifteen minutes was good. We couldn’t possibly say anything that would make matters worse between us in fifteen minutes.

  I called her. “Hey,” I said, as soon as I heard the line connect.

  “How have you been?” I considered the question.

  “Mostly good,” I told her. I pressed my lips together. Might as well come out with it. “Things pretty thoroughly fizzled out with Brigitte,” I admitted.

  “That sucks. What happened?” I smiled wryly to myself. I might be willing to be honest with Natalie about the fact that things hadn’t worked out with Brigitte, but I wasn’t quite willing to admit why.

  “Just didn’t seem to work out. We had a second date, and it never went anywhere else from there.” I shrugged, even though I knew she couldn’t see me. “I guess I still have a lot to learn from you.” She chuckled.

  “Well, it may not have been anything I could have helped—keep that in mind,” she said.

  “That’s true,” I agreed. The real reason that things hadn’t worked out with Brigitte was that I couldn’t seem to find her as interesting as I’d hoped. Our first date had gone so well. I was so excited to have dinner with her, and everything she had told me about her life had seemed intriguing. But on our second date, in spite of the fact that she had looked great and been just as talkative as she had the first time, I just couldn’t quite get into it. Compared to Natalie, I wasn’t sure anyone else could be interesting enough. Definitely, after that outburst, she qualifies as interesting. “I wanted to ask…are you still willing to work with me? I
got a call from Katie the other day and I didn’t know… I mean, after the thing that happened between us, I wasn’t sure.”

  “I’m sorry for that,” Natalie said. “I shouldn’t have blown up on you that way, and I’ve spent the past two weeks feeling really ashamed of myself for doing it.”

  “You were right, though,” I pointed out. “I wasn’t paying attention to the cues you were giving me and just talking over you. I should have been more considerate.” It had taken me two days to come to that conclusion. At first, I had been baffled, and then I had been angry, and finally, I had accepted that while Natalie hadn’t gone about it the best way, she had had a point.

  “I should have handled it better,” she insisted. “I think I was mostly just shaken up still from the attack.”

  “How are you feeling now?” There was a brief pause and I wondered—again—if Natalie had said something to Katie about what had happened between us.

  “I’m pretty much recovered, both mentally and physically,” Natalie replied.

  “Do you think that you’d be willing to go on another practice date? Get back into the swing of things?” My heart beat faster in my chest at the possibility that she might say no.

  “I think… When did you want to meet up?” I opened up my calendar on my computer; Trevor kept it updated throughout the day, so it was pretty reliable.

  “We could maybe do lunch? I’m pretty booked up tomorrow and the next day, but I could do Thursday or Friday.”

  “I can do lunch,” she agreed. Her voice sounded more than a little doubtful, but the fact that she was willing to even entertain the idea of meeting with me was at least something.

  “Let’s say lunch on Thursday?” I tried not to hold my breath.

  “I’ll add it to my calendar,” she said, and I thought—I hoped—I could hear her smiling, at least a little bit. I stayed on the phone for a few more minutes, asking about Brady, about the dates that Natalie had been on with other clients since we had parted ways, and then she reminded me that she had to pick her son up from his grandparents’. I let her go.

  As soon as I set my phone down once more, I felt relieved. I had no idea where things would go between Natalie and me once we met for lunch, but the fact that she’d been willing to meet with me again had to be a positive. I decided to go ahead and go home. I had only stayed behind at work because I didn’t want to sit around at home, by myself, being pathetic. But now that I had something to look forward to—even if it was just a practice date with a woman who didn’t want to become my girlfriend—I didn’t particularly feel like giving myself make-work to get done just to avoid my own apartment.

  I shut everything down and headed out of the office and down to the garage, thinking about how things had gone with Natalie. At least you know that she probably didn’t say anything to Katie about what happened, I thought, as I got out of the elevator and headed to the exit. That has to be something good.

  I couldn’t quite shake the feeling that Natalie hadn’t just been irritated at the fact that I was talking over her and obsessively bringing the conversation around to Brigitte. There was something about the situation that made me think that maybe—just maybe—Natalie had some kind of feelings towards me, even if she didn’t want to.

  As I drove home, I thought about my second—and final—date with Brigitte. We’d met at an arcade that Trevor had found for me, and I’d thought it would be just as big a success as the first date had been. From Brigitte’s perspective, I thought it probably had. She had had a good time, and throughout the night she’d given me little cues that told me that she wouldn’t say no if I invited her to come home with me. But everything that she had to say seemed to be a rehash of what we’d talked about the first time, even though she’d told a few stories about new clients she had been working with. Everything about her work, her interests, her life had seemed to be routine.

  Would I run into the same problem with whoever it was that Katie planned on setting me up with? That possibility bothered me; I didn’t want to think that the only person I could be interested in was someone who was unavailable to me. Surely, whoever I get matched with is going to be more interesting. That’s the whole point of working with a matchmaking service, isn’t it? In spite of myself, I saw Natalie’s face in my mind, saw her grinning—and scowling as she told me off on our last session together. I could never predict how she would react to something, and that was at least part of the reason I found her so interesting.

  As I went up to my apartment, I considered where I would take Natalie for lunch. For both of our peace of mind, I should keep the location as upfront and as professional seeming as possible. If I picked somewhere that was romantic, I might just make things worse between us. She obviously wanted to keep things as platonic as humanly possible, and I didn’t have any right to expect anything more. I was glad that she was feeling better, but I didn’t think that even someone as strong as Natalie could rebound from an attack like the one she’d been in quite so quickly. She’d probably be skittish for a while longer, and I had to respect that she had good reason for that. I sent a text message to Trevor, asking him to get on the case of finding a good lunch spot for me to meet with Natalie, and made some dinner for myself. All I could do was wait and see how she reacted to me.

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Natalie

  I hadn’t talked to Katie about what had happened between Zeke and me, even though I knew that I should. I couldn’t bring myself to ask her to reassign him to another coach, even if I knew that it would be a better option for both of us. I’d been ashamed of myself for reacting the way that I had, and for how much of a jerk I had been, over something that I really should have been happy to hear. Zeke was making progress—of course, he would be excited about that.

  When he called me, I didn’t even really know if I should take the chance of meeting up with him for another session. I had known—even before he’d said anything about it—that he would have that in mind, or else he wouldn’t have called me at all. Katie had mentioned that she found it strange that I hadn’t logged any more sessions with Zeke, and I’d told her that Zeke had begun dating women on his own, without saying specifically that he’d asked to stagger or stop our meetings. He hadn’t, of course, but I didn’t quite think that letting Katie come to that conclusion on her own was quite the same thing as a lie.

  By the time the babysitter arrived, I was nearly ready to leave to meet Zeke for our lunch date. Lunch is good. Lunch is informal and professional. He will probably keep his mind on business and you can get back into the normal swing of things with him, I thought as I touched up my lipstick and made sure my hair was smooth. I had gone for my usual standby: jeans, a nice blouse, and a blazer. It was good enough for any lunch spot that wasn’t a four-star restaurant, and I didn’t think Zeke was likely to take me somewhere so fancy on a practice date, even if he did have feelings for me—which I couldn’t be sure he did.

  Zeke had asked me to meet him at a restaurant called The Hearth, and as I listened to the GPS on my phone giving me directions, I tried not to feel too nervous about what it would mean to see him again. I had had a lot of time to think about what had happened between us on our last date; most of what I had said to him in my little outburst had had an element of truth in it, but also a lot of personal feelings. I needed to make up my mind about how I was going to deal with the situation. I had to figure out whether I could or could not be professional with Zeke. And, the lunch we were going to have together would give me—I hoped—what I needed to figure that out.

  I parked my car about a block away from the restaurant and took a deep breath, steeling myself against the awkwardness that I knew would be the first several moments of our meeting. Even if I could be professional and platonic with Zeke after everything we’d been through, things were going to be weird between us for a little while until we got used to each other again. I reminded myself that I knew how to handle a little awkwardness. I knew how to keep the ball rolling, how to figure o
ut where Zeke’s head was at in our situation with each other. “That’s why Katie hired you,” I told my reflection in the mirror. “You know how to handle yourself in almost any situation.” I had a brief flicker of memory of the date with Nathan Giles, but I dismissed that. There were some people that no one could handle. I couldn’t count that one experience as an indication of my overall abilities.

  I climbed out of the car and locked the door behind me, checking the time as I started towards the entrance of the restaurant. If nothing else, I thought wryly, I could count on a good meal. I’d read up on The Hearth and apparently they had great food and decent service. It was like most of the places I’d gone to for meetings with clients.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket and I checked it, worried for a moment that there was something wrong with Brady. Instead, it was a message from Zeke. Got here early, so I’m waiting for you at the table. Just tell the host that you’re with Zeke Baxter. I hesitated at the door to the restaurant and then dismissed the idea of standing him up as stupid. It was my job to meet with him, and even if the meeting went poorly, he wasn’t likely to turn on me the way that Nathan had.

  I saw the host right away, standing at a podium and writing something in the book in front of him while he chatted away on the phone. I waited my turn, looking around the part of the dining area I could see: the restaurant had a cozy feeling to it, with exposed brick walls and intimate tables, a hardwood floor that gleamed with polish and waiters milling around in casual-professional clothing instead of uniforms. It’s an ideal lunch spot, I thought, breathing in the smell of heavenly aromas coming from the kitchen.