by Jade Oliver
Thank goodness. I completely forgot to set the alarm last night and my final interview is today. This is the day my life could change. I have an excellent shot at the research internship. I’ve worked hard, and despite what I was told my entire childhood, I deserve this and I’m worthy of it. Maybe if I tell myself that enough, I'll believe it for real.
My thoughts turn back to the empty space beside me and I sit up, disappointed that Brax is not in bed with me. I hoped to wake up snuggled next to him and perhaps make love again before he had to leave. Where did he go?
I swing my legs over the side of the bed, stand up, and pull the sheet with me as a cover. Brax’s yummy smell wafts into the air around me, and I can’t help but bring the sheet to my nose to inhale his piney cedar mixed with musky male scent. He smells like the woods on a bright spring day. My stomach clenches and I feel heat flicker throughout me. I hope he feels as frisky as me. I take care of my wake up routine before I look for him; the open concept living space paired with the smaller size of my apartment will make it a quick search.
Wrapped in my robe, I walk out of the bathroom and head to the living room to look for him there first. Quickly I scan the room, and when I don’t see him I can feel the tension start to invade my shoulders. I have no way to contact him. He stays at different hotels when he is in town and he doesn’t have a cell phone, an oddity I haven’t been too concerned about until now.
A cup of coffee is needed before I begin to obsess about all the possibilities of why Brax isn’t here, so I make my way into the kitchen. Sometimes, like now, I wish I had a Keurig to make this process go faster. Before I even reach the counter, I see the piece of paper sitting next to the coffee pot. It wasn’t there last night, so Brax must’ve left it. He knows I make coffee as soon as I wake up.
“Hummm, maybe Brax went for breakfast,” I mumble to myself, and I smile at the thought. I reach out and pick up the note but it’s short. Too short. And devastating. The paper flutters to the ground, I feel my legs buckle, and my knees hit the cold tile of the floor. I barely register the pain as a strangled cry leaves my throat. In shock, I stare at the note that lies in front of me, and I can’t help but read the words over and over.
Adair,
I’m sorry. This isn’t how I wanted things to end. I wanted to tell you last night that I have to leave, but you were irresistible. I never meant to hurt you. I hope, one day, you can forgive me. For what it’s worth, I do love you.
Yours Always,
Brax
* * *
A few hours later…
Damn, Adair, you are so fucking stupid! Why did you ever think that a man like Brax would actually want you enough to stay? Or that he was telling the truth? Did living with your parents not teach you anything?
I have cried all morning, yet I can feel the tears welling in my eyes again. I guess I need yet one more humiliation? Embarrassment over my steady stream of tears in public causes my cheeks to flush red. If my car hadn’t broken down weeks ago, I wouldn’t have to cry in public, but no such luck.
The walk to my interview leaves me ample amount of time to be pissed at myself and the situations I’m in. I’ve always held back from guys and refused to form an emotional attachment, until now. My goal is to be somebody in the field of cultural anthropology. I don’t need a man or a family weighing me down. Unless, like my parents, I choose to sacrifice my family’s feelings. Although, they sucked as parents period.
But I had to go and be stupid. I had to give in. Worse yet, I pushed him last night. Damn, I made it so easy. Times like this, I wish I had friends, but I kept my distance from everyone.
HONK!
What the hell? Two strong, masculine arms wrap around me and pull me back from being run over by an oncoming car. Great, I almost walked in front of an oncoming car. Upfront and personal embarrassment. This day just keeps getting worse. Not only did this man keep me from getting hit by a car, but he is also going to see my raccoon eyes and reddened face. All thanks to bawling over a man, like I swore I’d never do.
I sway, and the arms around me tighten and prevent me from falling. He turns me into his chest. Damn, it is nice to feel protected and safe in such strong arms after such a fuck up of a morning. He holds me in a bear hug, and I feel the urge to press my face into his chest and snuggle. Mmm, he smells like the ocean. I shake my head and take a deep breath before I tilt my face to look up at the owner of the arms holding me. My intent is to apologize quickly and walk away, but the arms don’t release me. A pair of mischievous, light powder blue eyes stare down at me. They remind me of the clear summer sky.
Mesmerizing. This is my new favorite color. When his lips quirk up in a grin, I realize I spoke both my thoughts out loud. I groan and drop my head forward onto his chest.
The guy holding me chuckles. “What's mesmerizing, love? And what's this about a favorite color?” Smooth and playful with a sexy British accent. His voice is like angel food cake, springy and light. I wonder if he tastes as good as he sounds.
Damn. I’ve lost my fucking mind. Braxton, who I thought could be the love of my life, just walked away from me. Today. The day after one of the most passionate nights I’ve ever experienced. I shouldn’t be thinking about this stranger in my bed because of a pair of gorgeous eyes and sensual voice!
Get it together, Adair. You have a life changing interview. Fuck! The interview.
I feel my cheeks warm as I quietly murmur, “Sorry, mister. I wasn't watching where I was going. Please, excuse me.” Despite my body’s protest to lose the feeling of warmth and comfort, I back up. Or try to. The man tightens his arm around my waist, squeezes my right side with one hand, while he uses his other hand to lift my chin so he can look at my face. I know exactly when how upset I really am becomes clear to him. A frown replaces his smirk and he studies my face for a moment like if he looks hard enough he will discern why I’ve been crying.
“No worries, love. But I can’t in good conscious let you walk away without an offer of help. Tell me how I can help you and I'll let you be on your way.” He sounds genuinely concerned. Damn. A gentleman. A real life Superman. A British one at that. Fuck. My. Life.
With that thought, I jerk out of his arms and stumble away. He calls out for me, but I ignore it, walk faster, and push my way through the small crowd of people. At this point, I’m almost running to get away. I don’t want this stranger’s comfort. I don’t want anyone’s comfort. Brax is gone. Damn, I hurt so much.
The pain of rejection is almost physically crippling. After a childhood filled with emotional detachment, all the emotional abuse, I promised myself I would never let anyone close to avoid the hurt and disappointment it invariably caused. When I met Braxton, really noticed him, it only took one look for me to want him. But I played it safe, smart. He admitted to traveling for work and being in town sporadically. The breaks helped me hold back emotionally and physically. Until last night. Last night I finally gave in, let my love for him show.
This day needs to be over and it will be as soon as I finish the interview. I stop so I can look to see where I am. I must be close to the correct building because I was almost there when the mysterious stranger saved me. Just as I notice the building sign, I hear a sound directly behind me, and I turn and see those powder blue eyes filled with sympathy standing closer than I expected.
My head starts to pound from the stress, and my chest tightens from anxiety. Too many dramatic upheavals in my life over the last few weeks choose to catch up with me at this very moment. They make me feel like I can’t breathe.
Each piece of my life is like a brick that I carefully stacked and tended so they didn’t crack or fall over. If something happens to one of the bricks, I quickly repair it. I learned how to do this as a child living with an emotionally distant mother and a neglectful, narcissistic father. However, all my bricks seem to have cracked at once, and as they finally tumble down, they take me with them.
I think of the ocean and experience a feeling of peace before my le
gs buckle underneath me and I faint.
Tobias
The beautiful woman’s sad, blue eyes roll up into the back of her head as her knees drop out from under her. I quickly reach out, grab her around the waist, and catch her before she can fall. I scoop her into my arms and cradle her gently. The commotion causes a stir in the crowd, and angry murmurs over the possibility that she is hurt and I’m the one that did it come from the swell of people around us. Bloody Hell.
My gaze flicks her over to make sure she isn’t physically hurt, which she doesn’t appear to be. Her moderately tight black skirt rides up her thighs, allowing a portion of skin to be exposed, and I take a moment to pull it back down. Her white oxford shirt is still tucked in and covers her, no buttons out of place. Conservative black heels round out her outfit, and I’m grateful those stayed on her feet when I picked her up. Thank goodness for straps.
I have no idea who this woman is, much less where she needs to be, but I know it’s not on the street. My mind filters through different scenarios as I attempt to put together a believable story in case someone tries to stop me from taking her to safety. What the hell will get them to leave me alone and let me help her? An image of my good mate Tristan and his wife Leah pops into my head, and I almost laugh out loud. I hope this girl has a sense of humor when she wakes up.
She gently sighs and snuggles into me, her nose burrows into my throat. I pull her more snuggly into my chest and start to move through the crowd. A hand grabs my arm and I turn to see an older woman, someone who appears to be a grandma with her grey hair and gigantic bag. She gives me a look to say I can’t just scoop up this woman and walk away without explanation.
“Excuse me. This is my girlfriend, Jada. She was upset this morning about school.” I nod my head to Senton Hall where I was headed, then continue. “We were headed there but she fainted.” She huffs and eyes me skeptically. “Jada is pregnant. She was already dizzy this morning from morning sickness. Can you please let me through and help me clear the crowd so I can help her?” I give her my best charming look. The faster I can get my girlfriend — a thought that shoots a tingle up my spine — into the building, the better. She doesn’t appear physically hurt, but I have a feeling a crowd, even a concerned one, will alarm her.
After a moment of eyeballing me, the grandma nods her head in affirmation, and I quickly head toward the building while she deals with the crowd behind me. I’m halfway across the crosswalk when I hear her calling out, “Young man! Young man, wait!” I turn and see her following behind me. Despite the fact that I’m holding the young woman, I stride back to the grandma and walk next to her so that we can cross together, then lead her to Senton Hall’s entrance.
She holds out a handbag and gives me a right telling off. “Young man, you forgot her purse!” I look at the black handbag and must have a shocked look on my face because she just pats my arm and tells me, “You will get used to it soon.”
“I will?” Though I am not certain what we are talking about, I think she means the handbag. I remember seeing my dad carrying my mum’s sometimes when we were out shopping. He’d always grumble and complain but tell me, “I rock this better than your mum.” After being married for almost 35 years, I don’t think he really minded; I doubt there was a time he ever did.
I shake my head, dismiss the thoughts to deal with the more pressing matters at hand, and turn back toward Senton Hall. As I do, I see someone from across the street staring at us. It’s one of the men from the crowd earlier, maybe a few years older than myself, and he frowns. But when he notices my look, he turns and walks away. Weird. He must have been still watching to make sure nothing happened.
Luckily, I don’t see many people in the building. It only takes a few, “She’s fine. She fainted. She’s my girlfriend,” before I finally make it into the professor’s office. Leaning down, I gently lay her on the couch and make sure she is in the most comfortable position. My gaze roams over her face as I take a moment to study her, and the tear stains on her cheeks catch my attention.
I leave and come back with a wet napkin and gently wipe her face. As I care for her, she doesn't move, which shows me she’s exhausted and in need of sleep. My glance at the clock reveals that I have an hour before the interview, so I decide to let her sleep while I finish my interview prep.
I busy myself on the other side of the office, shuffle through papers as I work, but my gaze often lands on the beautiful creature that lays on the couch. I don't know her name, but I do know she was upset. Upset enough to run from me. Upset enough to faint.
A short while later I hear a rustle from the other end of the room, and I look up from my papers. My attention is immediately drawn to the woman and away from my research outline. I gingerly stand and walk toward her as she begins to move and become alert and coherent of her surroundings. I’m cautious in my movements. I don’t want to scare her again.
She pushes herself up into a sitting position using the couch arm for balance while holding her hand with the other hand. She notices me when I am a few feet from her, and she looks up at me with those big blue eyes. She’s fragile, slightly shorter than average height for a woman, with slender curves that make her appear smaller than she is, more vulnerable.
She stares at me in confusion, and dare I say, with a hint of attraction. Her expression changes as she realizes who I am, the stranger that caught and saved her. She processes her predicament and instead of confusion and attraction her eyes flash with understanding. She’s alone, in a strange place, and with a stranger. I watch her face close itself off from me completely and her look turns weary.
The disappointment I feel unsettles me. I just met this woman, if you can even call it that, and I’m not exactly the serious relationship type. More of an equal opportunist. I’m not an asshole with women, actually I’m quite the charmer. But I’ve never found anyone I’ve connected with enough to offer more than a good time.
As I look at her I instantly know she's not just a “good time” kind of girl. This is a woman befitting equality and trust in a relationship, something my parents still have in their marriage. Surprisingly, I’m not at all bothered by this, in fact, I still feel satisfaction from calling her my girlfriend. I chuckle to myself in anticipation to see what she thinks about it. Indeed, I think I look forward to it.
Slight smile upon my face, I step toward her, but she shakes her head no. I freeze and wait to see what she will say or do. I still don't know her name, but I'm looking forward to finding it out. In fact, I’m eager to find out a great many things about her, if she'll only give me the chance.
Two
Adair
I jolt awake. My searching gaze flits around the room, and I’m confused as to where I am and who the attractive man that stands in front of me is. His intense stare is almost frightening. He looks at me like I’m a puzzle he wants — no needs — to solve. His eyes leave no room for mistake that once solved I will go from mystery to meal. In spite of my overall distrust of the male species, I can’t help but shiver at the thought.
He walks towards me but stops when I shake my head no at him. Suddenly, I recognize him from his cocky gait. He’s the man that saved me from myself. Twice.
‘‘Thank you for helping me, but stay right where you are, British Superman. Or are you back to being Clark Kent?” I say in a strained voice.
He cackles and smiles a crooked grin at me. “Tobias Kent, actually, love. But I’ll be your British Superman any day.”
Cocky smartass.
“What happened?” I look around again and take in my surroundings. This office seems familiar, but I’m still a little shaken up by everything that has happened since… I shudder at the mere thought of Brax and take a deep breath, refusing to get upset again.
“You fainted. I caught you and brought you here.” His mouth half smiles. “Actually, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t joke, I should make sure you’re okay.” His face takes on a light ruddy shade and he looks a bit guilty. For some reason, this upsets me sligh
tly but now is not the time to ponder why. “Can I check you over? Make sure you’re not hurt. I didn’t want to while you were sleeping. I didn’t want to wake you because you looked like you needed the rest.”
I quietly murmur, “I’m alright,” but I start to berate myself inside my own head.
This is so embarrassing. I’m a klutz, but I’m also a smart, educated young woman. Although, with my behavior and what he’s seen of it today, I feel like a spaz. I can’t believe I walked in front of a car and fainted in front of him.
It doesn’t matter because men are on my shit list for a while anyway. They can thank Brax and take it up with him if they have a problem with it. I will gladly send them his way. God, I am such a dumbass! I have an internship interview to prepare for and that’s what I need to focus on.
Shit! The interview. I feel myself start to panic about the, once again forgotten, interview. Unfortunately, the reason why I recognize the bookshelves to my right and the desk and chairs in front of me becomes clear. I study the framed inspirational photo above the diploma displayed to my left. Dr. Thomas Goodfellow’s name stares back at me through the frame, almost in accusation.
Son-of-a-bitch! I’m already at my meeting. A chuckle comes from behind me, and I turn toward the blond smirker. I must have said that aloud. Again. I don’t know who he is or why he’s in this office, but it doesn’t bode well for me that he’s here and just heard my less-than-ladylike curse. The only saving grace is that he isn’t Professor Goodfellow. Maybe it’s not as bad as I imagine.
“Actually, love, if you’re all right there is something we need to discuss.” The look on his face shows his unease and that he might still be worried about me.
He may be a stranger but he did help me, so I try to reassure him. “I told you I was fine. I had a bad morning. What else is there to tell?”