Was he referring to the Microsoft deal? He must have been. “I’m sorry,” I said.
“I am, too. I loved those guys as if they were my brothers. But at least I now know who has my back, which is none of them.” He took my hand in his, and his voice brightened. “But that’s no longer important. That was years ago. At this point, it’s old hat. So, are you hungry?”
I hadn’t eaten all day. “I’m starving.”
“Me too. Let’s go.”
He moved aside so I could step inside the car, and when I did, he slid in next to me. He was so close that I could detect the faintest hint of the cologne he’d worn last night. It wasn’t too much—it was just right. I’d long been taught that wearing cologne or perfume should be an intimate experience. I was glad to see that Chance knew better.
He put his arm around my shoulders, drew me in close to him, and then asked me where we were going again.
“Ruby’s,” I said. I gave the driver the address. “Going there is kind of like going back home for me. I think you’ll like it.”
He took my hand and held it in his lap. Again, I thought how rough his palm was, and I had to wonder—was this really the hand of someone who ran an international corporation? The gentleness of his touch clashed with the callouses on his skin, which intrigued me.
There’s so much I don’t know about you, Chance Caldwell, I thought. And so much that will remain a mystery after tonight.
When he kissed the back of my hand, I found myself melting into it. And him.
Check yourself, girl.
After seeing him in jeans and a T-shirt? That’s becoming a bit difficult to do.
Then stop this while you can.
Not happening. I want one more night with him.
You might regret that.
I seriously doubt it.
And with that, the cab lurched into traffic, and we were gone.
* * *
When we arrived at Ruby’s, I felt a kind of thrill. I loved this place. I had no idea if Chance would, but I hoped that he’d see in it what I saw in it. It wasn’t just the food that made coming here so good. It was that somehow, in one of the world’s largest cities, there was a place like this that could remind you of home the moment you stepped into it.
Since both of us came from rural backgrounds, I wondered if he’d appreciate it as much as I did.
“This is it?” he asked as the cab slowed against the curb.
“This is Ruby’s.”
“It really is a diner.”
He sounded happy about that, which made me happy.
“I told you it was. So, let’s see what you think. I need a burger.”
He paid the driver, and we stepped out of the cab. Then, once on the sidewalk, he reached for my hand again. It was a warm July night, and the streets were thronged with people jamming the sidewalks. A group of five teenage boys darted past us on skateboards, screaming and shouting as they shot through the crowds in a colorful blur of red and white and brilliant shades of green. There were couples strolling along the sidewalks, some of whom had children with them. Some of whom didn’t. I could smell hotdogs, peppers, and onions roasting on the grill of a nearby street vendor, and in the distance, I could hear someone playing a guitar.
I adored the West Village for just these reasons—its energy and its diversity. By far, it was my favorite neighborhood in New York, and easily where I felt the most comfortable. Corporate America was trying to change its landscape, but for the most part, this part of the city seemed determined to push back in an effort to retain its identity. I admired it for that.
I glanced over at Chance, who was looking up at Ruby’s red neon sign with a smile on his face.
“The sign reminds me of home,” he said.
“I was hoping it would. The girls and I have been here a few times. We can’t afford to come here often, but when we splurge, this is our place.”
“Then let’s do it.” He placed his hand against the lower part of my back and led me to the front door, which he opened for me. “After you,” he said.
I stepped inside, and was relieved to find that a few booths were empty. It was busy as hell at the bar, but then it always was.
“We seat ourselves,” I said. “How about this booth here? It overlooks the street.”
“I won’t be looking at the street.”
“Well, you might.”
“I doubt it. I’d rather look at you.”
We sat opposite each other on the padded, red vinyl seats.
“I have an odd question to ask you,” I said.
“Ask away.”
“Why are your hands so calloused? You run this big corporation. It doesn’t add up.”
“That’s because you don’t know me. When we talked earlier on the phone, I felt that you were trying to project something onto me that you gleaned from the pages of Google. You think you know me, but you don’t. You’re way off course.”
“Fair enough. So, what should I know?”
“About what?”
“Let’s start with those callouses on your hands.”
“My parents still run a farm in Idaho. And whenever I can, I fly out and help them with it. You know farm life—you told me that you grew up on a farm yourself. It’s hard work. But I like that kind of work because it’s physical, and because my father is the boss. Not me. He has no issue setting me straight when I screw up. I like that dynamic because I don’t exactly have it in my everyday life.”
I leaned toward him and lowered my voice. “So secretly, you’re a submissive.”
He laughed at that. “Hardly.”
“Oh, come on. Dad snaps his fingers, and you come running.”
“He’d have it no other way.”
“Do you get along well with your parents?”
“I love them.”
“They must be proud of what you’ve accomplished.”
“They are. But at the end of the day, they could give a shit about any of it, which I dig. I may be an adult, but I’m still their kid. They don’t treat me any differently than they ever did. If anything, because they’re getting older, they’re harder on me.”
He was right—I didn’t know him. So I had to wonder—if he wasn’t what Google presented him to be, then who was he really?
A young waitress with shoulder-length blonde hair and a fresh face stopped by our table to ask if we’d like to start with drinks.
“I’d love an iced tea,” I said. “Unsweetened?”
“Absolutely.” She turned to Chance. “And you?”
“Do you have Glenfiddich?”
“We do.”
“I’ll take it neat. Make it a double, please. If you could also bring a glass of water with ice, that would be great.”
“You’re having a drink?” I asked him.
“Why not?”
I turned to her. “If he’s having one, then I’m having one. Could you also bring me a Grey Goose martini? Three olives? Dirty? I’ll have that along with the iced tea.”
“Done,” she said. She handed us our menus. “Are you familiar with Ruby’s?” she asked.
“I am, but he isn’t.”
“Then you’re in for a treat,” she said to Chance. “Tonight’s special is a half-pound sirloin burger topped with Maytag blue cheese, tomatoes, onions, bib lettuce, and a habanero sauce. It’s kind of to die for—I had it for dinner before I began work tonight. It comes with homemade fries and slaw, but you can switch out the slaw for a house salad if you’d like. Just so you know, that costs a dollar more. Let me get your drinks first, then I’ll take your orders. Do you need anything else in the meantime?”
“I think we’re good,” I said.
“I’ll be right back.”
When she was gone, I locked eyes with Chance. “Is this not home, or what?”
“If she’d been fifty years old and a little bit chubby, I’d be right back in Idaho. I grew up on diner food, so thank you for choosing this. It’s tough to believe that we’re in Manha
ttan right now.”
“Just another reason why I love this city,” I said.
“Agreed.”
“By the way, I haven’t asked. Where do you live?”
“I’m based in Chicago.”
“Based?”
“I have a townhouse there, but because I travel so much, it doesn’t really feel like a home. So, I just say ‘based’. That seems more accurate.”
“Why Chicago?”
“My business is located there, which is intentional because it puts me pretty much smack in the middle of the country. With O’Hare there, I can get to either coast in a matter of a few hours, instead of the several hours it would take if I lived on the West Coast or the East Coast. It’s all about efficiency.”
“Are you returning to Chicago tomorrow?”
“No, I’m flying to L.A. for a few days. Then it’s on to London. Then Paris. Then I’m not sure where I’ll be. Hopefully back here in New York so I can see you.”
I’d already been clear with him that tonight was it, and he’d just confirmed every reason why. If he wanted to believe this was going further than tonight—that he could break down my barriers—that was on him. And it was fine if he was just testing the waters to see if I wanted more, but it didn’t change a thing for me. I had to remain firm in my resolve not to allow him in because, frankly, I sensed that if he did live here, I could fall for him. To protect myself from getting hurt, I needed to keep my guard up. So, I just smiled at him. The last thing I wanted was to ruin the mood or the evening.
“Sounds like you lead a busy life,” I said.
“Sounds to me like you just dodged the idea of seeing me again.”
I moved to speak, but he just held up his hand. “My life can be intense,” he said. “But with everything you have on your own plate, it’s probably no busier than yours. How many hours do you work a day?”
“In the summer? It can be up to fifteen. When school is in session, it can go a bit higher, mostly because I also need to study.”
“Do you still work two jobs during school?”
“I have to. Otherwise, the rent won’t get paid.” I shrugged. “But I’m not complaining. It is what it is—and all of it will be behind me by this time next year.”
“Then what? You’ll stay in New York?”
“Absolutely. I love it here, and I hope to find a good job here.”
“You will,” he said.
“I hope so, because that’s sort of the plan.”
“What do you want to do with your degree?”
“I’m thinking about a few options. I could work for one of the city’s museums, which would be rewarding. I could go into teaching, though that doesn’t pay much. Or I could go into business—especially the marketing side of things. More and more, I’m thinking that’s probably the direction I’ll take.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because it’s creative. If I got lucky, I could become part of some amazing think tank. And other creative types would surround me. In the right environment, that could be fantastic.”
“If you want it to happen, it can happen, Abby. And what better place than New York to make it happen?”
“Exactly.”
Before our drinks came, we continued to talk, and launched into a casual give-and-take that seemed weirdly natural to me. There was a rhythm between us that suggested we’d known one another for years, not just two days.
On the night of the party, he’d asked me if I’d felt something between us. I wasn’t sure what he’d meant by that then, but I understood it now. There was something between us, and it was unnerving. Tonight was feeling increasingly more like a second date than the second-night stand I’d proposed.
Keep your guard up.
I’m trying.
When our drinks came, neither of us had yet looked at the menus. “I’m sorry,” I said to the waitress. “We haven’t even looked at the menus yet. Can we have a few minutes before we order?”
“No problem. I’ll come by in ten minutes or so. Is that OK?”
“That’s perfect.”
When she walked away, I felt Chance’s leg brush against my inner thigh, and then start to move up toward my crotch. Once he found it, it was clear that at some point he’d taken off his shoe. He pressed his toes firmly against me, and started to stroke me while his gaze remained fixed on mine.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
“Changing the conversation.”
“Like this?”
“Why not?”
“Because we’re in public.”
“Isn’t that part of the fun?”
I felt myself start to become aroused.
“This isn’t the place.”
“Ask me to stop and I will.”
His foot started to pulse against my sex. I felt exposed, but also excited. What if somebody caught us? I glanced around the room, but it was so dim in here, I doubted that anyone could see what he was doing.
But still….
He pressed his foot harder against me, and I felt a fullness ripple through my body that caused my nipples to become erect. The rhythmic sensations that were coursing through me quickly became so consuming that I had to put the back of my hand over my mouth.
“It’s too much,” I said.
“Like I said—ask me to stop and I will. Or I can get you off right here. In a matter of seconds. With all these people around us. I made you come last night by barely touching you. I can do it again—if you want. Just say the words, Abby.”
But I had no words.
“Let me ask you a question,” he said. “Do you want to live your life with moments of adventure? Or do you want to go through life as most people do—safe and secure, but with no surprises? Is that the life you want?”
“No.”
“Then why do I sense otherwise? Why do I sense a struggle within you?”
Because of my mother. Because of the way I was raised. Because good Catholic girls don’t do this.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t?”
I didn’t answer him, but the truth was that—more than ever—what I wanted was making me feel conflicted. As my aunt pointed out earlier, I’d always been the good girl, and she was right. I’d always been the one who went for the long-term relationship, not the one who had the one-night stand—or the one who planned for the second-night stand. This was still foreign territory for me. And Chance was still a stranger. I didn’t know him well enough for him to take me like this—and yet I was allowing him to do just that. I hadn’t stopped him yet, and it was unlikely that I would, which meant that, on some level, there was a part of me that did want this. Something risky like this.
Who was I now? Had I always been this person? Or had I always just wanted to be this person?
Chance had promised that he was going to break down my barriers tonight, but I’d never expected that he’d go as far as this. Or that I’d welcome any of it.
Do I want to live a life with no surprises? Or one with adventure?
The question seemed ridiculous to me—of course I wanted to live a life filled with adventure. It was a loaded, calculated question meant to goad me, and I was damned if it didn’t work because it gave me pause.
My aunt had lived a life defined by adventure, while my mother had chosen to live a God-fearing life wrapped in a blanket of safety and security. As much as I loved and respected my mother, it wasn’t she who’d captivated my imagination when I was in my teens. Instead, it had been my aunt’s life that had spoken to me. If her life was her bank account, I used to think, then it must be overflowing with romantic thrills and experiences. I still did.
So why aren’t you living your life as she has lived hers? Without boundaries. Without borders.
I had no answer to that.
The depressing truth was that I’d long thought that my aunt’s life was unobtainable for me, if only because it would have crushed my mother had I even dared to go there. I knew that she disapproved of
the path my aunt chose. For too long, I also knew that my mother was no stranger to manipulation. When I was young, I knew that she’d sensed that there was some part of me that wanted a life similar to my aunt’s. And so, at some point, she must have formed a blueprint skewed to make me second-guess my aunt’s choices, which she considered lewd and dangerous.
I’d been raised to want what many women of her generation wanted—a straight, predictable road toward marriage, children, and perhaps, if there was time, squeaking out some semblance of a career in the process. Throughout my life, my mother had gone to great lengths to assure me that this wasn’t just the life I should want, but that it was the life that I deserved. She’d reinforced the idea that while my aunt appeared to be happy, she couldn’t possibly be happy. How could she be happy without having love in her life? Children in her life? Someone to come home to? Someone that she could say she was in love with, and that loved her?
Safety. Security.
I’d fallen for all of it.
“Abby?” Chance said.
I looked at him and realized that, at some point, his foot had fallen away. I hadn’t noticed.
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“What were you thinking about?”
“Nothing.” I shook my head at him. “Or everything. Probably everything.”
“Would you like to talk about it?”
“Not right now.”
“You looked haunted for a moment.”
Maybe I had. Maybe I’d just seen myself for who I was, and who I didn’t want to become. Maybe this man was bringing me closer to facing my past, and to reconsidering what I wanted for my future. When he’d called me earlier, it was on impulse that I’d decided to be with him tonight. When he’d asked to see me, I didn’t think even twice about it. I’d just agreed to it. There was a reason for that. While I knew that I needed to guard my heart, I also knew just upon hearing his voice that I wanted to have sex with him again. That I wanted his lips on me again. That I wanted him to hold me again, to feel him inside me again. But more than anything, on some subliminal level, I must have made a decision to break free from the person I’d been molded into.
Chance (The One More Night Series) Page 10