by Dixon,Jules
I forgot I was supposed to get my picture taken yesterday, so when Jillian’s hubby, Mark, rounded the corner into my office, I made an annoyed sound that was probably very rude. Although, I’m not sure anyone loved to have his or her picture taken, except maybe models. Photographs were like going to the dentist. I did what I needed to do to get the unpleasantness over with, not because I enjoyed the attention.
He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. “I guess you’re looking forward to this.”
Mark was a great guy, and we instantly hit it off when Jillian invited me over to their house. I taught him how to change the oil in his own car to save a little money. The dealership’s service department probably wouldn’t appreciate that. But as an artist, I knew saving a little here and there could make a big difference.
“I just haven’t been feeling well and didn’t put much effort into my appearance today.”
“Presley…”
I plastered on a smile. I motioned to my face. “Just give me a couple of minutes in the bathroom to reapply, and we’ll get it done.”
His eyebrows furrowed. “Okay, I’ll wait here for you.”
In the bathroom, I applied a little powder to cover up the semi-oily parts of my face, added a little more eyeliner and mascara than usual, and a soft rose-colored lip gloss. I pulled my hair out of the low bun I had it in to dry and arranged the tousled waves around my shoulders.
It’ll have to do.
Mark was standing outside my office when I returned.
“I want to do something a little more unconventional with your shots, Presley. Let’s head outside.”
After what felt like 5,000 photos, he extended his congratulations for beating the Great Dixless and indicated he would have the photo up on the wall in the morning. I told him there was no hurry. I wasn’t a fan of myself in pictures even though I was sure he would do his best.
Mark sighed loudly. “Presley.” His voice was so direct that I couldn’t help but be rapt in attention. “Beauty may be in the eye of the beholder, but any man would love to be holding your beauty in his arms. It will be no challenge to make your photo beautiful because you already are.”
My eyebrows were in my hairline when he was done speaking. If it were anyone other than Mark, I might think they were trying to get something from or maybe hitting on me. But he was so genuine that I inhaled a deep breath and swallowed to clear the lump in my throat.
Maybe he’s right? Come on! You know he’s right.
“Thanks, Mark. I can’t wait to see it.”
“Good. Have a nice day, Presley.”
“You, too.”
Pulling into the Brix parking lot after six, I sat in my car for a few minutes. Anticipation had my stomach doing impressive gymnastics moves, mostly because I ate more than yesterday and my stomach threw a little tantrum at the introduction of more than a cup of food at a time. If I was going to be enjoying a glass of wine, I needed sustenance to keep me from becoming a bawling idiot.
I texted Willow.
Prez: Going into Brix for my date. Wish me luck.
On the way to the door, I got a return text.
Willow: Good luck. I’m out with Kanyon. Probs won’t be home tonight.
Prez: You go girl!
Willow: LOL … thanks. <3
Inside, I located Rahl in a booth along the front wall.
He stood and kissed my cheek. “Hi, Presley, thanks for meeting me.”
“Hi, Rahl. Sorry I’m a little late, traffic.”
“No problem. What would you like, red or white?” He picked up a wineglass from the table.
“White, pinot grigio or sauvignon blanc, please.”
“I’ll be right back.”
Rahl crossed the room to the white wine self-service dispenser. Solid from the tip of his nose to the tip of his toes, he wore jeans that skimmed his legs and emphasized that he wasn’t a small guy. With the jeans he sported a button-down hunter-green shirt that brought out just the touch of green I hadn’t noticed before in his soft brown eyes. Casual brown leather shoes shrouded his feet comfortably. His hair was styled differently today than on Friday at the bar. The short, thick, dishwater-blond strands were standing straight up in front and he was clean-shaven, unlike on Friday when multi-day dark-blond stubble sullied his young-looking face. I would say he was mid-twenties but he had a maturity about him that made me think he might be older. The whole package was quite handsome, but there was little real physical attraction to him.
“Here you go.” He handed me a glass of wine. “Sauvignon blanc from New Zealand. My friend, Joe, suggested it. He’s at the bar waiting for his wife.” Rahl pointed to a muscular man with kind eyes who gave a wave when our eyes met. I waved back to him.
“Is he your date safety net if our time doesn’t go well?” I joked.
Rahl’s deep chuckle got a return of the same from me. “No, just coincidence. How was your day?”
“Decent. I dragged a little this morning, but doing better this evening. How about you, and what do you do?” I cringed. The conversation sounded too familiar.
“I guess you don’t remember some things from Friday?” he teased.
“Honestly, not everything.” I sipped a drink of the delicious wine, and grapefruit and kiwi flavors skimmed my palate.
A waitress stopped by our table. “Would you like an appetizer tonight? Cheese plate, margherita flatbread, or Brie with bread?”
Rahl didn’t hesitate and didn’t ask me if I was hungry, but I suspected as a big guy he was probably hungry all the time. “The Brie, hummus platter, and the steak frites, please.”
She nodded. “I’ll get it ordered right away.”
Rahl turned to me. “If you’re hungry after that, I’d be glad to buy you dinner, too.”
He sipped his red wine. The sight was quite the contrast—this brawny, testosterone-dripping male with a delicate wineglass balanced in his large hand. A manly beer might be more apropos but somehow he made it work.
Still don’t feel a thing for him.
My lack of interest made me wonder if there was something wrong with me.
Rahl cleared his throat. “To answer your question, I had a good day. I own a private security firm. Think mall cops with more than mace as a weapon.”
“Ever have to use more than mace?”
“You really want to know?” His grip on his glass firmed.
“I think you just told me without telling me.” I scrunched up my nose. “Sorry.”
“I was in the Army, Afghanistan, four and a half years. So, yeah, more than just mace, unfortunately.” A moment of sadness and maybe distress passed through his eyes. The emotion flickered in and out, but it was there.
“I think you told me that on Friday night, right?”
“Yeah, but I wouldn’t expect you to remember. Was there a reason for the pitcher-sized consumption of lemon-drop martinis, or was it just an unwinding gone horribly wrong?”
In other words, was I an alcoholic or just temporarily messed up?
Our appetizers arrived and we dug in. My appetite seemed to be returning.
“I’m not an alcoholic, Rahl.”
He chuckled heartily, dimples indenting his cheeks. “I wasn’t thinking that, promise.”
I took a sip from my glass after swallowing a smear of Brie on a piece of bread and contemplated how much to say.
“Honestly, I was supposed to be celebrating that I was the dealership’s top salesperson for the month of April but unforeseen circumstances caused me to get a little out of control. I’m not proud of it. Just happened.”
“Congrats on the success. Everyone has those nights where things get out of hand, Presley. I promise I wasn’t trying to pry or judge your behavior.”
“I know you weren’t.”
It wasn’t so bad to be a friend with a guy.
I sipped the wine. “So what do you like to do in your free time? Not that you have any, working two jobs.”
“I’m working the second job
to add to the down payment on a home I’m having built, so Two Fine will be temporary. But in my spare time I like to shoot skeet competitively, and I brew my own beer at home.”
“I thought you looked more like a beer guy than a wine enthusiast.”
“Wine is okay, but, yeah, I’ll probably move to a beer after this.”
Our conversation was light and easy, nothing too-too personal—family, work, and hobby-related. He was a native of Omaha, like me, but he grew up in a different part of the city. He was older than me. His twenty-six years to my twenty-four. He shared that he’s the oldest child of his family with two sisters and divorced parents. I relayed I was an only child, divorced parents. I could tell he was trying hard to make a connection. But it wasn’t there.
Rahl’s eyes pinched slightly and his jaw tensed into a line.
“Something wrong?” I watched his face soften again.
“Not really.” The tight quality of his voice spoke the opposite. I sensed a presence approaching the table. “Hey, Jude, what’s up?” He raised his voice with an unfriendly edge.
Jude? Really?
“Not much. Just out for a drink with a coworker from the gym. Hi, Presley, how are you feeling today?”
My eyes met his. “Hi, Jude. Sore, but overall, better. Thanks.”
“Glad to hear that. We didn’t make an appointment, but would you like another session on Friday?”
“Not this week. Appreciate the offer.”
Jude nodded and smiled his crooked grin. My body responded, sending tingles all through my chest. I took a deep breath, which did nothing to calm anything; in fact, the surge of oxygen ignited the tingles to follow a path farther south. I cursed silently and kept my eyes on Rahl across the table. He was safe and didn’t cause a single tingle.
“Jude, let’s go to Kona Grill, there’s no place to sit.” Emerson’s whiny voice had my eyes rolling involuntarily. Rahl grinned and elevated his eyebrows quickly at my reaction. I shook my head to indicate it wasn’t a big deal.
Of course he’s here with Emerson … his line of “there’s nothing happening” was only a cover-up.
Jude searched the busy room and turned back to us. “I’m sure something will open up soon.”
Rahl and I met eyes and an unspoken question flowed between us. Should we invite them to sit with us? I nodded in acquiescence.
“Would you like to sit with us until something opens up?” Rahl offered reluctantly.
“That okay with you, Presley?” Jude stepped closer.
“Of course.”
Not sure.
I slid out and back in next to Rahl, his bulky size made the booth a cozy place to be. Emerson huffed at me before she slipped onto the bench seat. Jude sat across from me. His eyes bore into me but I avoided his penetrating gaze.
The waitress returned to the table. Emerson ordered a chocolate martini and Jude a beer. Rahl added a beer for himself. I decided to stop drinking and asked for a glass of water. I didn’t want to get out of control again, and considering my heart had already started to pound after catching Jude’s brain-scrambling cologne scent, I needed to do everything I could to eliminate the potential for lessening my discomfort with alcohol.
During our conversations, several tables opened up. Emerson nudged Jude but he ignored her. Every time she touched him, the urge to rip her hair out strand by strand tensed my hands. I tried to remain calm and unaffected by my still-raw feelings.
Success was a grey scale at this point.
“You work this weekend, Rahl?” Jude inquired.
“No, I have this one off, you?”
“Yeah. I’m up this one and off the next.”
“I saw your bike outside of the bar. What is that? An ‘05 or ‘06?”
“It’s a 2005.”
“Nice. I have a 2008 Harley Road King Classic. Haven’t had it out this year. The weather’s been too unpredictable.”
“Impressive bike. I’d enjoy seeing it some time. I took a chance and it worked out Saturday night. Don’t really love driving that late at night with drunk drivers out, but I took backstreets to get home. Also keeps me from drinking while working.”
“Hear that.” Rahl lifted his beer for a drink. “Speaking of drinking while working, did you notice Sage on Saturday night?”
“Yeah, what was up with her?”
“Not sure, but that was a whole lot of vodka she drank. I thought Sam was going to can her ass. I drove her home and she rambled on and on. Mostly incoherent things, like something about ogres finding happiness and eyesight issues with cats and dogs.”
“Huh. That’s weird?”
Rahl seemed genuinely concerned. “She’s never seemed like the kind to drown her troubles. She did a fine job that night. I checked in on Sunday by text and she said she was moving slowly.”
“Maybe it was a fluke.” Jude drank his beer. “Sometimes people need a temporary outlet to express their real feelings.”
“I think Presley’s outlet used to be mass quantities of food. Right, Presley?” Emerson offered with a cunning smirk and a sip of her martini.
Jude and Rahl both frowned at Emerson. My face heated with embarrassment. I dropped my eyes to my water, drawing abstract figures in the condensation on the outside of the glass.
Everything was silent until Emerson exclaimed, “God, you were huge! I bet—”
“Stop!” Jude roared, and Rahl swore under his breath at Emerson.
I flinched at Jude’s loud voice. My eyes watered, and my breath spasmed in my chest.
Emerson had killer instincts of what buttons to push. She’d perfected her intimidation skills, and with razor sharp accuracy, her words could cut a person open from the inside out.
“Not another word to Presley, Emerson,” Jude growled.
“Whatever, grumpy butt. I need to use the restroom.” She waved for Jude to move.
After she left, I could feel his eyes examining me, but mine remained safely on my water glass. I was afraid if he showed any regret or concern I might lose hold of my emotions.
Rahl’s friend approached the table. “Sorry to interrupt. Presley, right? I’m Joe Weston. Nice to meet you.”
I shook his hand.
Joe glanced beside me. “Hey, Rahl, I have a flat tire. And I just bent my jack. Could I borrow yours?”
Rahl said nothing. Then I realized he didn’t want to leave me alone with Emerson and Jude. He glared across the table.
I leaned to him. “Rahl, I’ll be fine. Please, help your friend.”
Rahl’s hand fluttered lightly on my back and he lowered his mouth to my ear. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” I slid out.
Rahl strolled out of the building with his friend, but glanced back.
I cleared my throat of the lump of emotion that had gathered as I returned to the booth, moving more into the middle. Jude followed my move so he was face-to-face with me.
A rush of air escaped his mouth. “Presley, I’m really sorry.”
I closed my eyes. “For what, Jude?”
“Emerson. How she treats you. Lots of things.”
“Are you sorry for me or embarrassed by Emerson?” I tamped my emotions and attempted to grow a backbone. Scary as hell but when I looked him in the eye it was as if he shared his strength and hope with me.
“I’m sorry for being an idiot and mortified at Emerson’s behavior.”
I shook my head. Didn’t change anything.
He sighed. “Presley, if I told you I went the wrong direction, what would you say?”
“I’d ask what you’re talking about. What wrong direction?”
“Presley, I find you fascinating. Strong, and yet so vulnerable. Open, and yet so guarded. Innocent, and yet so damn sexy. I made a mistake. A big one. I’d like to get to know you better, outside of training. Please.”
“But I … I thought…” My shoulders began to creep forward. I sat up straight to stop the physical response.
“I was wrong and rash for what I sai
d. Presley, I can’t stop thinking about you, day and night.”
My hand dropped from my water glass to the table. He reached across the table and covered my chilled hand with his warm one. His long thumb stroked slowly along mine, dipping into the curve before my thumb. My body shook with a small tremor of suggestive thoughts.
He lowered his voice. “Please, Presley, can you forgive me? Will you give me a chance to make it up to you?”
I yanked my hand back to my lap and glanced out the picture window to where Rahl was helping his friend. “I don’t know. I’m so confused. What about your date?”
“I know you’re confused and I’m to blame for that, but I’m not confused. Emerson is nothing to me. You are what I want, not her.”
Legitimately I wanted to just say “thank God” and give in to him, but I needed to know he was authentic and he hadn’t shown me anything near that kind of commitment.
My eyebrows rose and I sat back. “Does Emerson know that? Who invited who tonight, Jude?”
He straightened. “I asked her to come here with me.”
“So how am I supposed to believe you would like to be a part of my life when you invited a person who can tear me apart in two sentences or less?”
“Again, I’m sorry. Fuck!” He rubbed his face with his palms as if to erase some feeling. That move never worked. I’d tried it before. “Presley, when it comes to you, it’s like I can’t think straight. I go left when I should go right. If you want to know my real reasoning then here is the lame excuse. I’m sorry for asking Emerson, but I thought if I showed up alone I wouldn’t have had a chance of sitting at the same table as you and she’s the only female I knew who would say yes, and legitimately part of me was jealous that it wasn’t me sitting at this table with you instead of Rahl.”
“You’re right. That’s the lamest reasoning in the world.” I scowled at the bouncing blonde making her way back to us. Our eyes met.
She narrowed hers. “What’s your problem, Princess? You really look like you need to eat. I think there’s an all-you-can-eat buffet open at the casino.”
“Emerson, stop it.” Jude stood and faced her. “Now.”
“Why should I, Jude? She’s nothing.”
Jude stared down at Emerson. “That’s where you are fucking wrong. Presley’s more than you’ll ever hope to be, Emerson. You are the nothing to me.”