Single Mom's Protector - Complete Series

by Nella Tyler

Natalie

  I stared at the shelf in the pasta aisle, debating with myself which of the different macaroni and cheese products I would buy for Brady’s dinner later in the week. At least, I was pretending to debate that, while my mind was actually on the subject of my most recent date with Zeke.

  I had crossed a line. I knew that I had—a line that even kissing, even sleeping with Zeke hadn’t made me feel like I’d violated. Those moments had been impulsive and they’d been personal, but the date felt more like something that a boyfriend would take his girlfriend to, not something a client would go to with his coach. The tickets were too thoughtful a gesture. They were too considerate. I had known when he’d shown them to me that I should turn it down. I had known absolutely that I should have enforced a professional boundary, thanked him, and suggested that we do something else. And, I hadn’t.

  “Mama! This one!” Brady nearly swung out of the seat in the cart in his urgency to point at the box of macaroni he wanted, and I came out of my reverie.

  “You want this one?” I reached for the box: it was a theme shape, with noodles that looked like the characters of a cartoon that Brady liked.

  “Uh-huh, want it!” He practically bounced in his seat, and I laughed, dismissing—for a second, at least—the thought of Zeke. I put the box in the cart behind him and moved on to the next item on my list. It’s a good thing Brady likes the grocery store, I thought, as we passed an aisle where another mother, child in the cart, was struggling to wrest a box of cereal from the screaming toddler. Brady liked to help, but I’d trained him when he was even younger to be patient and to amuse himself with a toy or a game while I got the shopping done. Fortunately for me, he’d taken to it like a child years older than he was.

  But even as I browsed the supermarket, going from aisle to aisle, checking off items on my list—milk, vegetables, fruit, chicken, beef, and staples—my thoughts kept turning back again and again to the subject of Zeke Baxter and our strange personal-professional relationship. I had actually had sex with him. I had gone on dates with him with my son in tow. Zeke had gotten closer to me in some respects than my husband had been in the last months of our marriage before we’d divorced—definitely he was closer to me than any of the men I’d tried dating on my own while working as a coach for the matchmaking service. It went without saying that I was much closer to Zeke in all respects than I had been with any other client that I’d coached. I’d never even been tempted to let any of the other men I worked with kiss me, and I certainly wouldn’t have ever let them into my home.

  The real question in my mind was what to do about the situation. I’ve been telling myself that I can still be objective, and that I can still assess and evaluate him like any other client—but is that really true? I had technically lied to Katie about the situation between Zeke and I, in the sense that I hadn’t told her about kissing him, much less about having sex with him. I knew that there had been a few other coaches who had gotten inappropriate with their clients. Katie had mentioned them to me in passing during my time at the agency. How the company handled the situation varied, but I was pretty sure that the fact that I hadn’t come clean with the information right when it had happened would stand against me.

  It was hard to tell myself—honestly—that the opinion I had of Zeke’s progress had nothing at all to do with the fact that we’d kissed, or the fact that we’d had sex, or especially the fact that he’d essentially rescued me from a prospective client who could have seriously harmed me in an attack. It was hard for me to try and say that I was able to be objective about my coaching, especially after the tantrum I had thrown during the practice date we’d had when Zeke had talked up the girl he had gone on a real date with. If I was going to be scrupulously honest with myself—something that the agency was big on—I had to admit that I wasn’t objective when it came to Zeke. I was deeply, thoroughly subjective. I couldn’t separate my feelings towards him from the progress he was making, or my emotions from the coaching I gave him.

  There were two options in my mind: either I could go to Katie, admit that I had developed feelings towards Zeke, and ask to be taken off of his case, or I could leave my job. As I wandered around the produce section, trying to decide which vegetables I could make that Brady would happily eat—and which I might be sick of and not want to eat for a while—I thought about each of the options carefully. I knew I couldn’t tell Katie the extent of what had happened between Zeke and me. I could go so far as to tell her that I wasn’t able to be objective anymore. In fact, I would be surprised if she wasn’t expecting me to admit that I had feelings for Zeke, after my report about the assault. It was exactly the sort of thing that would cement a general sense of liking a person into something much more serious and difficult to ignore.

  If I got myself reassigned, I would have to stay away from Zeke. I would have to break the news to him and tell him that I couldn’t even see him socially anymore because if I did, it would get back to Katie, and it would look like I was violating a boundary. I couldn’t coach him, and I couldn’t have anything to do with him. I would keep my job, and I would—I hoped—move on with my life, but it would be a miserable few weeks of dealing with other clients who weren’t as good as he was, as quick as he was, or as charming as he was. I’d be frustrated and lonely again.

  The other option would be to quit my job and be with Zeke. The possibility was exciting and terrifying all at the same time. There was no way to know how soon I would be able to get another job—or if I would be able to get another job—and that would put Brady at risk. I definitely wouldn’t be able to go to any of the other agencies in the city. If I quit, I would have to give an explanation why and there wasn’t really one that wouldn’t make me a bad hire for another company, even if I lied about my connection with Zeke. I’d have to go into another field, and it might take months to get something.

  The other terrifying aspect of that option was that I had no idea of Zeke was even serious about me. I knew that he liked me—that was obvious—and he even liked Brady, but he was still working with the agency. He was clearly still interested in dating someone he could get married to, someone he could form a real relationship with, instead of the weird in-between thing we had going on. Never once had he suggested to me directly that he wanted more than what we had together, even if he had been the one to make the first move. If I quit my job and moved onto something else—likely something that didn’t pay as well—and then found out that Zeke didn’t actually want to be with me, I would have tanked my career for no reason. I would be putting my son’s food and shelter and clothing at risk only to get nothing in return but heartache.

  “Mama, look out! Look out, Mama.” I shook myself at the sound of Brady’s voice. I had nearly run into a display of Cheez-Its, I’d been so lost in thought.

  “Thanks, sweetie,” I told him, leaning in to kiss his forehead. “Mama’s got a lot on her mind. You’re being such a good lookout!” I gave myself another shake, thinking to myself bleakly that I hadn’t even decided what I was going to do about Zeke and I was already putting my son at risk.

  “Mama,” Brady said, looking thoughtful. “Are you lonely?” He had asked me that before, and I couldn’t help but wonder why my toddler son was so stuck on the idea.

  “How can I be lonely when I have you?”

  Brady shrugged. “You’re sad sometime,” he told me. “Like with Daddy.” That made something inside of me cringe. Brady barely had memories of his father anymore. Alex had no interest in cultivating a relationship with his son, and since he’d left, I could count the number of times he’d been around Brady on one hand. But of course, Brady was a little sponge, just like any young child—he noticed any change in me, any shift in mood. He would have noticed the way I’d been before the divorce, and he’d notice the difference in how I acted around Zeke, no matter how hard I tried to be professional and platonic.

  “I’m not lonely, sweetie,” I said, wondering once again where my son had come up with the concept of loneli
ness. “I’ve got you, and I’ve got all my friends, and Miss Katie…”

  “And Mr. Zeke?” He looked up at me, almost anxious.

  “And Mr. Zeke,” I conceded, feeling the blood rush into my face at the mention of him. “He’s one of my friends.”

  “He’s nice,” Brady said, smiling broadly. “You like him. Lots.” I laughed.

  “I think you like him lots, too,” I suggested. Brady thought about that for a moment and then nodded. I sighed and steered the shopping cart around the display that I’d almost run into, trying to keep my thoughts strictly on the task at hand. But of course, my mind started to wander again, especially as I started to unload my purchases onto the belt. I inched forward, waiting for the elderly couple—one with the cart, one with a walker—to clear out of the checkout line ahead of me.

  “See Mr. Zeke soon?” I glanced at my son, trying to understand his question.

  “You want to see Mr. Zeke again soon?” Brady nodded. I could have laughed or cried; my son thought that Zeke was one of the best things since sliced bread—thanks in no small part to the very apt gifts that Zeke had given him—and I had to make a decision that would either risk breaking his little heart weeks or months down the line when he found out that things hadn’t worked out between Zeke and I, or one that would disappoint him almost as much when he learned the same thing sooner.

  “I’ll see what I can do, little bug,” I told my son, hoping that he would forget about the well-to-do businessman before I had to be accountable for my promise. “He’s very busy, though, so you may not see him for a while.” Brady shrugged; for him, a while was any length of time that wasn’t five minutes into the future—as far as he was concerned, it was something to look forward to, but not to anticipate. The elderly couple finally coordinated themselves and moved away from the register and I pushed the cart into place, smiling at the cashier with more happiness than I actually felt in the moment. I promised myself that I would make a decision soon. I couldn’t put it off any longer and I knew it.

  Chapter Thirty Two

  Zeke

  “Hey, Trevor,” I said, turning to look at my assistant as he came into my office.

  “Yes?” Trevor sat down across the desk from me and I turned my chair away from my computer.

  “I need you to do something for me,” I started.

  “That is normally why you ask me to step into your office,” he pointed out. I rolled my eyes.

  “My dating coach—Natalie. You remember that she has a three-year-old son, right?”

  “I remember,” he confirmed.

  “She mentioned that he really likes me a lot—and I have no reason to doubt her. Can you come up with some date ideas that would be good for a three-year-old to come with us on?” Trevor gave me a sharp look. “What?”

  “It’s not my job to have an opinion,” he told me with a shrug.

  “Just say it, Trevor.”

  “Should you be getting your coach’s kid involved in your dates with her? That sounds pretty…personal,” he said, giving me a look.

  “It’s not that personal,” I insisted. “She has a kid, I know about the kid, the kid likes me. She can save some money on a babysitter.” I shrugged. “Besides, lots of women my age already have kids—why shouldn’t I get some experience handling them on a date?” Trevor held my gaze steadily for a few moments and then looked down at his tablet.

  “Well, there are a few things that might be toddler-friendly,” he said, tapping the screen a few times to pull something up. “The aquarium has a couple of touch-tanks that are kid-friendly, and of course little kids like aquariums in general.” He scrolled for a moment. “The zoo is a good option, too.”

  “His mom takes him to the zoo a lot,” I countered. “I don’t want to turn something that she does with her son into a professional-type thing. Not fair to her.” Trevor shrugged.

  “There’s a giant playground, separated by age, on the other end of the city,” he suggested. “Ball pits, jungle gyms, climbing nets…the whole thing.”

  “Add that one to the list,” I told him. “See if there are any kid-friendly plays or anything like that going on, too.” Trevor nodded.

  “I’ll look at magicians and stuff, too—see what I can do. A three-year-old isn’t going to have much of an attention span, though. Probably best to focus on something that’s active.”

  “Good point,” I said, thinking of how much Brady had enjoyed running around the park: feeding the ducks, playing on the playground, and being chased with water guns. “Get to work on that.” Trevor made a note and nodded again.

  “Oh, I meant to tell you,” he said, looking up from his tablet. “Katie from the agency called, and she wants you to give her the particulars of what you want for your first few dates.”

  “Cool,” I said. I smiled slightly, but to my surprise I didn’t actually feel all that excited by the idea. “I’ll give her a call in a few. Is there anything else on my calendar we need to discuss?” Trevor consulted his tablet for a moment, scrolling through items.

  “You’ve got a meeting tomorrow before lunch, and the next day you’ve got that proposal for the Friends of the Forest benefit, but everything’s ready for those.”

  “Snacks arranged for the meeting?” Trevor nodded.

  “Bringing in coffee and donuts, standard fare,” he said with a shrug. “It’s just before lunch, so I didn’t think anything heavy would be a good idea.”

  “See if you can’t arrange for fresh fruit, too—Isabel is on a diet, if I remember right.”

  “I’ll make it happen,” he told me. He rose and I gestured that he could go, turning back to my computer. I knew I wasn’t going to actually work; I was too preoccupied. Katie is going to start setting me up on dates. There was something about that fact that bothered me, even though it was the goal: meeting women I could form a relationship with and potentially marry. But if I meet other women…and if I meet someone I can actually date and eventually marry…I won’t have any reason to keep seeing Natalie.

  I sighed. I had decided during our last date that I needed to get Natalie out of my head. I needed to find someone who I could actually invest my emotions in. I knew that Natalie wasn’t that person—she had made it clear that we could never have more than a professional relationship to each other. But somehow, as long as I was still practicing, I could ignore the fact that I would eventually stop seeing her. Once I found someone that I wanted to date seriously, I wouldn’t be getting coaching anymore, and I’d have to say goodbye to her. “I’m an idiot,” I muttered to myself in the silence of my office.

  I scrolled up and down the screen on my computer, looking at but not seeing the contents of the page in front of me. The real problem, at the end of the day, was that I genuinely, truly liked Natalie. Above and beyond what we were to each other as coach and client, even beyond just the fact of having had sex with her, I liked her. She was smart, funny, and charming. I smiled to myself, remembering the way she’d been during our last date together. I knew that she felt ambivalent about taking the concert tickets from me, but I’d really wanted to make an impression on her, to mend fences after the fight we’d had before. I wanted her to think of me fondly—and I knew that I wanted her to really and truly like me.

  I liked Brady, too, although I never expected to be able to do more than tolerate him on the few practice dates he came on with Natalie and me. I had liked playing with him. He was an adorable child and obviously precocious for his age—I’d thought more than once when I’d been around him that his big, expressive eyes took in everything like sponges. He was the cutest kid I’d ever been around—not that I’d been around many—and if I stopped seeing Natalie, I wasn’t going to see any more of Brady, either. Once I’m not in coaching anymore, I could be her friend. I could see her socially. But even as I had that thought, I pushed it aside. I couldn’t just be Natalie’s friend, not after having sex with her. If I saw her socially, it would just lead to me wanting to date her for real, which would make a
ll my efforts with the agency beside the point.

  I considered my problem carefully while I continued to pretend like I was working. Fortunately, I was a little bit ahead of the game on the tasks I had in line for the day. I couldn’t be with Natalie the way I wanted to be—that much was obvious. She didn’t want to overstep that boundary again, and I respected that. But I couldn’t get her out of my head, either. She was so smart, so funny, and so much fun to be around, even when she was coaching me and giving me feedback on how I could be better. You could steer them in the direction of picking someone like Natalie, I thought. At first it seemed wrong. I should let Katie pick people that she thought would match me well—she was the expert, after all. But I knew what I wanted. I knew what I liked. I wanted and liked Natalie. If I could steer Katie in that direction, then she would have me matched up with someone I could be with in a shorter period of time.

  I picked up my phone and found the agency’s number in my contact list. I took a deep breath and considered what I should say, to steer Katie towards the right type of woman. After a couple of minutes, I tapped call and waited.

  “Hello?” I smiled to myself.

  “Hey, Katie—this is Zeke Baxter. You told my assistant Trevor you wanted me to call in?”

  “Hey, Zeke! Good to hear from you,” Katie said. “And yes, I did. Based on Natalie’s reports, I think you’re just about ready to start dating for real, so I wanted to get some feedback from you in regards to what kind of women I should line up for you.” I bit my bottom lip, thinking.

  “Isn’t the whole point of a matchmaking service that you know better than me who I should be with?” If I deferred a little bit, I thought—hoped—that she’d keep my preferences in mind a little more thoroughly.

  “Well, I know what the profiles say,” she explained, “but we want to take what you think into consideration, as well.”

  “That’s good to hear,” I said, keeping my voice as neutral as possible. “So is this like—a questionnaire or is it more free-form?”