by Parker, Ali
When he started walking toward me, I realized I had been ogling him. Even now, my eyes were locked on his. I didn’t move. I didn’t look away and neither did he. I knew there were people around, but I didn’t see them. I didn’t see anything but the man stalking toward me, staring at me like I was naked and on the menu.
“Hi,” he said when he came to a stop in front of me.
It wasn’t a normal hi. It was a breathy, sexy hi. It was the kind of greeting that suggested we disappear into a quiet closet to get naked. Maybe that was just me. It was just me. I was letting old feelings cloud my judgment. “Hi,” I answered, doing my best to sound breezy when I felt like I was melting.
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
I licked my lips, regaining my composure. “I was interested to see where you worked. I thought I would pop in.”
He smiled. “Just popped in, huh?”
I offered a coy shrug. “I’m returning the favor.”
“You were verifying my story,” he countered, his eyes flashing with mischief.
A giggle escaped my lips. “Maybe. I had to see it to believe it. I’ve been by this place a few times, but I have never actually visited.”
“Then I have to give you the grand tour,” he offered.
“Does that cost extra?” I teased.
“Not for a beautiful woman like yourself,” he said with a wink.
“Oh my, a personal tour guide and a flirt?”
“I offer a full-service experience,” he answered. His voice was deep and husky. He was flirting.
I had to calm my heart that was damn near pounding out of my chest. “I’ll be the judge of that.”
He chuckled before leading me to the far-left corner to begin my personalized experience. I listened intently, hanging on every word he said as he explained what he was showing me. The man was passionate about what he did for a living.
“This is my latest acquisition,” he said, leading me to the center of the museum.
It seemed like a massive case for something so small. “Isn’t this one of those death statue things?” I questioned.
“It is,” he answered but he wasn’t looking at me. His gaze was focused on the relic behind the glass.
“Interesting,” I commented before dropping my eyes to the display below.
“It is one of my best pieces.”
We moved on, going into an area that was sectioned off with velvet ropes. “This is great,” I commented. “I bet the kids love this.”
“It’s supposed to be an interactive area. Unfortunately, it can get a little messy.”
I looked at the long table filled with sand. “I bet digging for treasures can get a little wild.”
“The idea is to inspire kids to want to become the future archeologists and historians.”
“It’s a good idea and I’m sure they have a blast doing it,” I commented. I moved around the space. “I would have loved to have this when I was younger. The museums we visited were all very boring. Their idea of interaction was flipping the pages of a book or pushing a button to reveal a new lecture on a tiny, blurry screen.”
“I have one of these in every one of my museums,” he said with a great deal of pride. “Honestly, it is one of the bigger draws. We always get great reviews.”
“I can’t believe you grew up to be this guy,” I told him.
“This guy?” he questioned.
I spread my arms, encompassing the museum. “Museums. Artifacts. Old things. I don’t get it. What’s the draw for you?”
“I wanted to see the world. I wanted to explore not just our world, but the world other people lived in. When you think about it, we live on the same planet, but our world is so different. I am intrigued by the idea of people making do with what they had. Egyptians were especially intelligent. I love that all these things in here are unique. They can never be duplicated. I mean, people will make imitations, but they will never be like this. They will never be crafted by the hands of people that walked the earth hundreds or thousands of years ago.”
I was staring at him once again. His passion for what he did was contagious. I wanted to go dig in the dirt and find something cool. “Do you give lectures?” I asked.
He smirked. “No. Definitely not.”
“You should. You could release a video series. People would listen to you talk all day.”
He laughed. “I doubt that.”
“I don’t,” I said confidently. “I happen to know a thing or two about what the public likes, and I know, without a doubt, you are it.”
“Do you want to get dinner?” he blurted out.
That was unexpected. Good, but unexpected. “Um, when?”
He shrugged. “Tonight?”
I almost said yes before I remembered I wasn’t exactly a single woman with no strings attached. I had a teenager at home. I could leave her alone, but I wasn’t comfortable doing that just yet. “I have plans tonight. Does Friday work?”
He nodded. “Yes. I’ll make it work.”
I smiled. “Should I give you my number?”
“Please.”
I pulled my phone from my pocket and quickly unlocked it, handing it to him. He did the same. We quickly input our phone numbers before exchanging phones again. “Call me and we can set up a time,” I said.
“I will. I’m going to call you, Mae.”
The way he said it sent another shiver down my spine. I was treading on thin ice with him, but I didn’t care. I wanted to spend time with him. I wanted to get to know the man that had once been the boy I had a fierce crush on. “You better,” I said with a smile. “I know where you work.”
He gave me a smoldering look that sent butterflies flitting about low in my belly. “Friday,” he said.
I nodded and decided it was a good time to make a break for it before I said or did something stupid or embarrassing. I walked out of the museum, being careful not to trip or stumble and make a complete ass of myself.
I made it to my car, got inside, and released the breath I had been holding. “Holy shit,” I breathed. “What are you doing, Mae? He’s trouble with a big, fat capital T.”
Tyson was the forbidden fruit. He was the one man I couldn’t have. Patrick would never forgive me if I started dating his old best friend. One dinner did not constitute dating. I could enjoy one nice dinner with the man as friends. Just friends.
I drove to Carrie’s apartment. She would give me the permission I was seeking to enjoy one date with Tyson. When I got to her apartment, she looked harried as usual. I could hear her four-year-old son crying in the background.
“Rough day?” I asked my best friend in the world.
She sighed. “It’s nap time. Ben thinks naps are for chumps.”
I laughed. “Maybe it’s you that needs a nap,” I said as I walked into her apartment.
She groaned. “I need so much more than a nap. I need a blackout drunk.”
I picked up a foam ball and dropped it in the open basket filled with toys in the corner. “I would be happy to babysit for you. You could go to a hotel or back to my place and take a long nap.”
She flopped down on the couch. “I can’t do that.”
“Sure, you can.”
“Mae, Mae,” Ben said as he walked down the hall.
I crouched low and accepted his exuberant hug. “Hi, Benny. Are you giving your mama a hard time?”
He looked at her, then me. “No.”
“You can get up,” Carrie caved in. “I will let you have fifteen minutes of screen time. Then you have to read one of your books.” I put Ben down, and he took off running back to his bedroom. “No running!” Carried shouted. “You’re going to trip and fall.”
She was a helicopter mom times ten. “Relax. You are seriously going to stress yourself right into a stroke. He’s a little boy. He’s going to get some bumps and bruises.”
“Or he could fall into the wall and get a concussion,” she argued.
I burst into laughter and took a sea
t. “You could wrap him in bubble wrap. Make him wear a helmet and knee pads.”
“That’s not a terrible idea,” she mused. “What are you doing here in the middle of the day anyway?” she asked as if she only just noticed it was early afternoon.
“I am working out of the office today,” I said.
“You’re not working.”
“No but guess what!” I said, unable to contain my excitement.
“I have no idea.”
“I bumped into Tyson Helms yesterday and we are having dinner on Friday,” I gushed.
She looked confused. Her big brown eyes looked at the ceiling then me, growing wider as the name finally rang a bell. “Tyson? The Tyson? No!”
I grinned, nodding. “Yes. That’s where I was just now. He owns a museum.”
“Oh my god, does Patrick know?”
I quickly shook my head. “No. I mean, I suppose he might. Tyson stopped by to see Patrick but he’s out of town for a couple of weeks.”
“Wow. That’s going to be a hell of a shocker. Are you going to start seeing him again?”
“It isn’t again. We were never officially seeing each other.”
She rolled her eyes. “Okay, we’ll go with that. Are you going to start seeing him—period?”
“No. I can’t. I won’t do that to Patrick.”
“You’re not a little naïve girl anymore. You’re a grown woman and Patrick will just have to get over it.”
“Easier said than actually done.”
“How is it going with Hayden?” she asked, her eyes watching Ben as he walked back into the living room with his tablet in hand.
“Good. Better. I think she is adjusting well.”
“How about your parents? Have they made a stink about her living with you?”
I scoffed. “I don’t even know if they have figured out she’s gone.”
“That is so sad,” she said with a shake of her head. “I cannot imagine what I would do if I didn’t have Ben. I would lose my mind.”
“That’s because you are a good parent. My mom and dad are not.”
“You should bring her over,” she said.
“Actually, I was wondering if she could hang out with you and Ben on Friday. I know she’s thirteen and has spent the last few years being on her own, but I don’t want her to be alone.”
She nodded. “She doesn’t need to be alone. Bring her over. It’s been a while since she’s seen Ben. We’ll have pizza and watch the new Frozen movie.”
I laughed. “She’s thirteen, not three.”
Her bottom lip popped out, giving her a very youthful appearance that was enhanced by the pixie haircut she always wore. “It’s a good movie. I love it. Ben likes it.”
“She will be happy to watch it with you.”
“Did you look into the high school?” she asked.
I nodded. “I did. With my address, there is no problem with her enrolling. The only issue will be if my parents put up a stink.”
“You should go through the process to get legal guardianship,” she advised.
I grimaced. “That is such a long process, and if I push to make it official, I’m sure my parents are going to push back. It’s easier this way.”
She didn’t look convinced, but she said nothing more about it. It was a bridge Patrick and I were still debating on whether we wanted to cross.
Once we made the move, there was no going back.
Chapter 8
Tyson
My car pulled to a stop in the parking lot of the building where Mae lived. I wanted to do it right. I was going to go and knock on her door and the whole nine yards. I didn’t know what this thing was between us, but if there was a chance I could have something real with her, I wanted to treat her right. I had to treat her right or Patrick would want to kick my ass. Hell, he was probably still going to want to kick my ass.
I got past the doorman and rode up in the elevator. When I knocked on her door, she was ready to go. I had to hold myself back. She was wearing a little black dress. It clung to her figure, showing off her shapely ass and the womanly curves.
“Hi,” I said for lack of anything better to say.
“Hi. I’m ready.”
“Yes, you are. You look amazing.”
“Thank you.”
I was glad I had dressed in one of my nicer suits. I wore a jacket because the restaurant I was taking her to required it. I wanted to impress her with a nice dinner. I wanted to show her a good time with the hopes there would be a second date.
She paused when she saw the waiting limo. “Is this how you always get around?”
I looked at the car. “Yes,” I said it more as a question than an answer. “Is that bad?”
“I don’t think so, but I expected you to be a fast car kind of guy.”
I smiled. “I’ve got some of those.”
She laughed. “Okay, then.”
She got into the car. I caught a whiff of her perfume and nearly put my nose to her neck. The driver, already knowing where we were going, pulled out of the parking lot and headed down the road.
“Can I get you a glass of champagne?” I offered.
A girlish giggle erupted from her lips. “I can’t believe this is the same Tyson from twenty years ago. Champagne?”
I shrugged. “I’ve grown up.”
“And found a pot of gold,” she said.
“I do all right,” I answered. I poured her a glass of champagne and then one for myself. “Benefit of having a car and driver. I can drink and be driven.”
“Now that’s the Tyson I remember.”
We sipped champagne, enjoying the smooth ride through the city. The car pulled to a stop and a valet quickly opened my door. I climbed out, putting my hand out to help her out. She got out and looked around, a shocked expression on her face.
“Have you been here before?” I asked.
“No!” she exclaimed. “Normal people don’t eat here.”
“I’m normal and I love it here.”
“Aren’t they booked out for like a year? I can’t say I know for sure because I’ve never tried to get a reservation, but I have heard that rumor.”
“Probably.”
“You don’t have to make a reservation?”
I smiled. “I know a guy.”
I saw the look on her face and worried I sounded pompous.
“I’m impressed,” she said. “Good for you.”
“Thanks.”
We were quickly shown to my usual table. The waiter knew my name and asked if I wanted the usual to drink, to which I agreed.
“You do come here a lot,” she commented.
“Not a lot, but enough. The owner appreciates Egyptian art. It’s kind of a mutual arrangement. I hook him up now and again and he makes sure I always have a seat at my table.”
“You’ve done really well for yourself,” she said.
“I’ve been lucky.”
“You are humble.”
I shrugged. “Only thing that saves me from getting caught up in the craziness.”
The waiter poured us each a glass of wine. “I didn’t even know you lived in Philadelphia. How are you one of the movers and shakers of this city and I’ve never heard about you?”
I smiled. “I keep a low profile.”
“You don’t go to all the swanky parties?” she teased.
I wrinkled my nose. “I don’t think I’ve been invited. Well, that’s not true. I used to get invited. My money got invited. I showed up and those uptight pricks took one look at me and decided I wasn’t worthy.”
“What? Why?”
I shrugged. “I don’t dress like them. I don’t look like them. I don’t talk like them. The tattoos. There is a long list of traits they don’t like. Of course, none of them will ever say it to my face, but I’ve heard rumors.”
“I’m sorry. People can be so cruel.”
“It’s really not a big deal. I don’t care.”
She looked at me with those eyes that always mad
e me feel like she was giving me a hug. “You don’t need them. Fuck them.”
I grinned. “I might have said that to them once or twice, which cemented my uninviting. They still ask for checks, but they would prefer I mailed the money rather than show up to one of their shindigs.”
“Assholes.”
“Exactly,” I agreed. “How about you? I feel like we are always talking about me.”
“I told you, I went to school and now I’m back here. I have nothing exciting to report.”
“Are your parents still around?”
She sighed. “Yes, they are.”
“Did they retire?”
“I guess you could say that,” she murmured.
I remembered her parents had gone down a dark road. Judging by her reaction, it was not any better. “Are they still involved with the business?”
“No. Not at all.”
It was obviously a closed subject. “Are you involved with the business outside of promoting it?”
She shrugged. “Somewhat. Patrick does the traveling. Because we deal with a lot of other cultures, we have learned the hard way they tend to take him more seriously than me.”
I nodded in understanding. “It can be tricky.”
“Do you search out your finds or do people come to you looking to sell?”
“Both. I enjoy the hunt. I love searching for the items. I love traveling.”
“Do you go out to the digs?” she asked.
“I do,” I told her. “Not always, but when I get the chance to go out, I do. I like to verify the origin.”
She sipped the wine. “Do you ever dig?”
I smirked. “No. I don’t have the patience to jump through the hoops. I did a lot of volunteer work and got some hands-on experience, but I don’t think I could do it full time.”
“I imagine it is very dirty work,” she said before bursting into laughter. “All right, that was pretty cheesy. But you know what I mean. I don’t think I would appreciate being dirty ten hours a day.”
“Same here. And either it’s hotter than hell or you’re freezing your balls off.”
She giggled. “I think my balls will be safe.”
“Are you guys selling privately? Online?”