by Eden O'Neill
How curious.
I watched him behind an observant gaze, this man physically laboring over my error. They hadn’t even been my shoes, but I’d lost them, on loan from a friend. Said friend had also left me to fend for myself tonight, busy with a previous engagement surrounding our work. Evie hadn’t said what had come up, just that she had to leave town to head into the office but assured me we’d both been placed at the singles table for this wedding tonight so I wouldn’t be alone.
I’d been alone, exceedingly so, as I had to watch what was, quite possibly, the most ridiculously lovely wedding I’d ever attended. There’d been magic, love everywhere, like a soft slap in the face and a fuck you for ever trying to go out and actually forget your failed marriage.
At least, that was what I’d felt like.
The other singles, not so much. Most of them appeared to know each other, locals.
This Ramses seemed to know his way around as well, knowing exactly where to get the pool strainer, and I believed I did recognize him from today. Though, I wasn’t quite sure when. I’d made it to the wedding itself late today. I’d actually missed the ceremony, dragging my feet into the reception after Evie finally convinced me over the phone that coming to the wedding without her was okay.
“You’ll get to know some people. Everyone will be at this wedding tonight.”
She hadn’t been lying, the room so full I hadn’t even been able to see the bride and she’d been sitting up front with the groom. They’d both been at a sweetheart table, in their own little world. Every time I had seen her, she hadn’t been without him, a permanent staple at her side and the groom completely doting over her. It’d been sweet.
Goddamn them.
My manicured nails lodging into my scalp, I dragged my hair around to my front, stepping back on bare feet when Ramses placed sopping wet red-bottom heels in front of me. He’d used that pool strainer to get them out, rising like Mt. Vesuvius when he stood. He was easily over six-foot-five. Six-foot-five I knew, and he completely stomped on that number and claimed some inches above. He’d been ready to help me, again, curious.
“One and two,” he stated, dashing a grin down at me. He passed them out like penny candy, so ready to give them out. Like he didn’t care.
Like he enjoyed being happy.
My brain, as pessimistic as it tended to be as of late, thought good for him. If it was easy to be happy, people should be happy.
Yes, good.
But with wet shoes, I obviously couldn’t wear them, and Ramses made quick work of this as well. He had a towel at the ready, one he’d grabbed after he’d appropriated the strainer, which let me know he was either a very good sleuth or did simply know his way around this place, a local too. A local with a muscular ass who filled out his trousers like David Beckham.
A visual dick print included.
I hadn’t been particularly trying to check out his package, but it’d been there, and his pants had been tight. They weren’t exceedingly tight, but this guy was so well-endowed it was there as well as a set of finely chiseled abs that pressed obviously through the thin lining of his dress shirt. He had a tapered body, strong and broad at the shoulders until the hems narrowed and hit tightly at his waist. This Ramses guy was a very big man.
And you so should not be looking at him like that.
I had a few years on him, that much was clear. If I had to guess, he couldn’t be any older than twenty-seven or so, twenty-six at the youngest. Anyway, he was young.
But you have eyes.
He had eyes under dark umber waves, thick but controlled curls over his dusky-colored irises. They had a hazel tint to them, like the light couldn’t help but come and jazz them up. I noticed it when the underwater pool lights hit them.
“May I?” he requested, asking for my hand. He’d dried off my shoes, the towel off to the side. “You should be good to go.”
I seemed to be, taking his hand and angling into my shoes. His lengthy digits wrapped around my entire wrist, his hold strong but steady. I slid bare feet into only slightly damp shoes, and as that’d be better than no shoes at all, I’d take it. I wavered slightly, but Ramses had that covered too, the soft heat of his hand orbiting around the space at my shoulder. He’d be there to catch me, if I fell.
I didn’t, quickly taking back my hand. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” Again, handing out those smiles like candy, his jaw clean-shaven, angular and almost boyish. Like he was completely untainted by the world, and with his age, he might not be quite yet. He pocketed those big hands of his, a skinny tie gracing his neck but no suit jacket. A glance and I saw he had it folded over the pool’s rails.
“Ready to go then?” he asked, his head tilted. Oh, yes, my moment of temporary insanity. Had to be.
Why the fuck had you invited him out for pizza?
It’d sounded like a good idea at the time, and anything to make the moment less awkward for me.
Sure, keep telling yourself that.
He’d been about to leave. I’d been in the clear, but I’d still invited him out. I suppose I’d only blame that partially on the eyes. He certainly wasn’t bad on them, a heritage that straddled the line of two maybe three and left him with the golden complexion of an underwear model. I’d find this guy circulating the beaches of Brazil, his hair dark and that smile of his for days.
It was easy to let him lead me out of the pool area after he grabbed his suit jacket off the pool’s handrails, then later to coat check, but I wasn’t a complete idiot. I didn’t know this guy at all, and even if I had indulged in casual banter with him tonight, I most certainly wouldn’t be going anywhere with him.
No, that wasn’t happening.
And, like a few things tonight, I’d been once again surprised at how he’d handled that. I let him know I’d prefer to take a ride share, drive separately since I didn’t know him. I hadn’t driven myself tonight since I wasn’t sure if I’d be drinking and not only had he not gotten offended, he’d pulled the app up himself and got me a ride to our destination.
He even followed us.
His sleek Mercedes Benz crushed ice swiftly behind, a smooth and handsome chrome finish. The ride actually reminded me of my own. I had an SUV that I’d bought with some of the alimony I got from the divorce. A note would have taken me a little bit to pay off otherwise, which was why it surprised me someone of his age drove such a thing. I knew it was him behind the Honda Civic I was in, though. I got a flash of that cool smile of his through the windshield whenever my driver stopped at a light or turned a corner. It was definitely him behind us, and I suppose that type of vehicle could be driven by a young professional. This guy Ramses must have done pretty well for himself.
And he’d picked a pretty packed place.
Several people were coming in and out the pizza house he’d punched in for my driver to head to, and after thanking my driver for his service, I ventured outside.
The elements hit me right away, certainly used to this back home in Jersey. Winters over there could be just as torrential, the snow flurries picking up and making my heels slick in the slush. Evie really would kill me for ruining her shoes, but considering I was out tonight in the first place because of her, I would say the score was settled. I had a night full of awkward shit around people I didn’t know.
“Whoa, there. Careful.”
A hand folded around my arm, steadying me. Ramses was suddenly out in the snow with me, tossing me just one more of those candy-coated smiles. It lit up his whole face, which, of course, managed to make him just that much more appealing. Something told me this young guy broke a lot of hearts.
Fighting my own smile, I thanked him, allowing him to right me and use his large body to fight the elements. He acted as a human shield, all the way into the pizza shop, a chime at the door sounding as we both brushed snow off our coats and out of our hair. It gathered in thick banks on his. His hair was so thick. He cleared it with the precision of one who’d done it many times once inside, d
oing the same with the long wool coat he’d acquired at coat check.
“I got just the thing for you,” he said, shrugging his coat off his big shoulders. He folded the garment over his arm, and without it, the smooth gray of a tailored suit hugged the stocky width of broad shoulders. He was incredibly lean, generally, but his upper body could easily challenge a linebacker’s. I knew a hell of a lot about the way those guys were built, more than I’d liked.
I wet my lips, easing out of the doorway to let a few patrons leave. I brushed my hair off too. “What do you mean?”
“I called the pizza in ahead,” he said, surprising me. I struggled a bit with the snow and he helped me by flicking the remainder off my shoulders. He laughed. “Figured you’d want the best. But if you mind, we can order you something else. I just figured it wouldn’t hurt for it to be ready before we got here. You know, in case you were really hungry?”
What an unusually considerate thing for him to do. Not that people never did things like that, but still, unusual considering our particular circumstances. I’d invited him out tonight but only after I’d been a little rude to him. I was well aware of that, hindsight twenty-twenty.
But I’d wanted to be alone.
He hadn’t let me, of course, doing one better and actually trying to get me to come down. It’d been a very unusual situation, which triggered my thoughts about all this now. He’d taken the initiative here. Like he wanted to please me or something. Like this was a date.
Or something.
His lighthearted expression completely faltered at the sight of mine. He raised his hands. “Really, you won’t offend me if we switch it up. And actually.” He grabbed a menu off the greeter’s podium. “I can show you what I ordered. If it doesn’t sound appealing, we can get you something new in now.”
Fuck me, if he didn’t tug a smile out of me. He kept doing that, tugging and borderline poking. I’d come in kind of hot at him tonight, but he managed to stand his ground.
And even get a pizza date out of me.
This isn’t a date.
No business did I have dating. Especially with a guy so obviously younger than me. I didn’t consider myself one of those with an age bias, but I was in my thirties and most recently, a divorcee. Yes, I had no business dating.
I smiled. “It’s fine.”
“You’re sure?” One of those thick eyebrows arched. “Seriously, it’s no problem. You don’t like what I picked, we can get that shit out of here.”
Laughter, like full blown laughter and right in front of him.
“Good laughter?” he questioned, angling into me, and that quieted me down a little. In fact, all but canceled in my throat when he gazed down at me. A soft dance hit his tawny brown eyes. “I’m not joking, Brielle. We can change it. No big.”
“Bri,” I said, my throat constricting a little. What the hell? “Only my mother calls me Brielle when I’m being a jerk.”
As well as colleagues and people I didn’t know, of course, which was why I’d introduced myself that way.
The dance of Ramses’s eyes touched his lips at that point, his head lowering in acknowledgment.
“Bri it is then.” He winked. Really, so cocky. Yet, whatever this was he passed off I was apparently completely here for.
Ramses returned the menu to the greeter, a twenty-something college guy, no doubt, with a stain on his apron and what appeared to be flour on his cheek. This place Ramses took us to was a complete and total dive, fully equipped with shoddy lighting and enough decals on the walls to act as a second coat of paint, and looking around the room, there was absolutely no one over the age of thirty.
Well, except for me.
I wondered if Ramses knew, not that he’d probably address such a thing. Despite his confidence, he appeared to be a gentleman, and I noticed he hadn’t brought up the whole me up on the high dive thing again. That might be for lack of time.
What have I gotten myself into?
How had I arrived here, in this place with a younger man? I was headed quick toward the wrong side of thirty, and though he may be in his late twenties, that still pushed almost a decade between us.
His hand hovering behind my back to guide me, this didn’t seem to matter to him. The greeter told us to sit where we wanted, and Ramses took the full initiative, seating us toward the back and away from the chaos of the foosball and billiard tables. Despite this place being a dive, it smelled good as hell.
My mouth instantly watered due to the yeasty smell of baking dough and hot cheese, and I slid my own wool coat off the moment we were in the booth. The thing was only slightly damp at this point, as I bared my shoulders and folded the garment.
I was tucking it away when I realized I wasn’t alone and that the man I’d come with had his eyes well placed in my direction. He hadn’t been shy about it either, his coat hovering for the briefest of seconds before he placed it down on the booth’s seat. All too quickly, he had his attention back on me, and I was suddenly rather aware of my bare shoulders.
And my flushing breasts.
They warmed to a hot pink across the swell, but I forced the fact out of my head, making my hands move. I took the measures to place my coat properly, and when I came back, of course, those observant eyes of his hadn’t left. If anything, his more than direct stare intensified.
Arrogant indeed.
Again, I must have been here for this as well. Because not only did I allow it, I made no mention of it, my hands folded across the table. The greeter eventually found us again, taking our drink orders, but then, Ramses and I were right back to where we were, him looking at me and me, for some reason, letting him do it.
Were we playing a game?
I didn’t know, ignoring the currently warm state of my tummy. It seemed the ballet dancer inside couldn’t seem to sit her fanny down, and I breathed, passing off what he was doing to study the decals of the various bands on the walls. There was a sign that invited all patrons to place their stickers there, hence all the action on the dive’s walls. It gave the place a delightful appeal, I suppose, youthful.
“You going to tell me who you are now then, Bri?” Ramses had his glass to his full lips, no straw. It appeared he wanted to save the sea turtles tonight, my cup empty as well. He swallowed down his Sprite before draping an arm across the back of the booth. “I have to say I’m curious.”
Not much to me, I stayed silent, not giving in to his game.
His smile dashed coy. “Were you a wedding guest? I didn’t see you tonight, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t there.”
I could say the same about him. Though, how I’d missed him I had no idea. The man was huge, after all, towered over me and actually had to dip his head to make it inside this very restaurant. I touched my chin to the top of my hands, my fingers laced. “What gave it away?”
That observant gaze dragged over my body once more, but I had to give it to him. He’d glossed completely over my pinked chest to find my eyes. “Just a guess. Were you?”
“Yes. I’m assuming you were as well.”
“Also, yes.” His fingers danced on the top of the booth. “Bride’s side? Groom’s?”
“Didn’t make it to the ceremony actually.” I cuffed my arms. “I was late. Snuck in right as dinner was being served.”
He angled his head. “You sure you’re not a wedding crasher?”
Definitely didn’t have the time to do something like that. Maybe back when I was twenty. Laughter hit my arms, shaking my shoulders. “No. I was invited to the wedding, a plus one actually.”
“So, was this plus one a date?” he asked, very obvious what he was doing there with his question. He grinned. “I notice you’re not with that invited wedding guest now.”
I wasn’t. My smile more than wide, I pulled my water glass over. “She and I go way back, but she’s just my friend. My mentor, actually.”
I’d met Evelyn when she’d been an adjunct professor during my time at New York University. She’d been there only briefly
, but in that time, she’d offered me so much support as one of her history students. Really, my love for history now had been because of her, and she was the reason why I was here as well. She’d been the first one I’d called when I found myself suddenly seeking work. I hadn’t worked in a handful of years.
All of this new.
She’d been there for me just like she had back then, a mentor but now a friend. I smiled at the thought of her. “She and I go way back.”
“So said friend, who you go way back with.” Ramses paused, his fingers waving in the air. He touched his chin. “Who’s also a she who you have no romantic interest in whatsoever…”
My God was he obvious. My hand framed my face. “Correct.”
Another grin. “Brought you to Windsor House for the Prinze wedding, but now, you’ve somehow ended up with me.”
I suppose I had, nodding. “She had to work unexpectedly today. Told me to go on ahead. She wanted me to meet people. I’m new in town. Came for a job.”
“Well, you’re definitely meeting people.” He tilted his head. “Where are you from?”
“Jersey. Hoboken.” I sat back as the greeter topped off my water, then Ramses’s soda. I thanked him. “Just moved.”
“That’s a long way. You said you came for a job?”
“Yes, I’m a teacher. A professor actually. History.”
This seemed to intrigue him. He opened his mouth. I assumed to know more, but the biggest pizza I’d probably ever seen was delivered to our table, effectively cutting us both off.
I mean, I’d seen some pretty big pizzas, being from the New York area, but when I mentioned size, I meant the sheer thickness of it. The thing was built like a layered cake, a hefty and girthy stacking of cheese and thick dough and on the top, a layer of marinara and spinach leaves.
“Oh my God.”
“Just wait until you taste it,” Ramses exclaimed, a wink to his eye before reaching into his wallet and giving a tip to the boy who’d brought it. “Thanks, Ty.”
Ty, as he’d called him, unwrapped what was clearly a Benjamin, definitely more than this entire pizza. This seemed awful generous, even for a pizza of this size, but what was really crazy was this guy Ty didn’t appear to be surprised by such an exorbitant gift. I mean, he looked grateful. The kid just got a hundred bucks, but he definitely didn’t give off any type of surprise, his fist bumping Ramses’s before he said he’d see him around. Ramses was clearly a local who may or may not definitely do that all the time.