by Cat Johnson
The gas station sold prepackaged muffins, frozen burritos and some pre-made sandwiches but I didn’t consider that real food or competition for me. Nor did I consider their coffee competition, given we charged the same for a cup and mine was far superior.
“And do you serve meals too or just baked goods?” he asked, getting into the nitty gritty of my business.
It was kind of flattering he was so interested.
“Just coffee, tea and sweets.”
“Given the lack of competition, maybe you should expand the menu.”
I shook my head. “My heart is in baking. Not making sandwiches or eggs or whatever. Although . . .”
His brows rose. “Although?”
I rolled my eyes, not wanting to admit my dream to him. “It’s a ridiculous idea, but a lot of the kids stop by on their walk home after school. I just recently added lemonade to the menu in addition to coffee and tea, for the after-school crowd. But with the diner closed, I thought it would be fun for me to serve milkshakes and ice cream sodas. Like an old-time soda shoppe. You know?”
“Like in the Archie comics?” He smiled.
“Yes. Exactly.”
“You add french fries to the menu along with the milk shakes and you’d be packed every day.”
“I think I could stretch Honey Buns to incorporate sweet drinks but french fries might be pushing it a bit as far as my branding goes. But oh my God, it's tempting. French fries are my weakness.”
“Are they?” He seemed amused. “The woman who can identify any flavor in the world is a fan of plain old greasy fried potatoes?”
“I can’t resist. But not just regular fries. I have a Pinterest board of gourmet fry recipes. Parmesan fries. Truffle fries. Sweet potato fries with chipotle aioli. Mmm.”
And now I was craving fries even though I was stuffed from our meal.
“It doesn’t matter anyway, because I don’t have the room for all of that,” I continued. “And this was all way more than you’d wanted to hear when you asked about Mudville, I’m sure.”
“Not at all.”
I wasn’t sure if it was the vodka or taking about food but I’d suddenly gotten diarrhea of the mouth with this guy. I glanced around, hoping Laurel was on her way.
When I looked back, he was smiling. “I’m very happy I met you today.”
I felt my cheeks heat. “Um, thank you?”
Yup, my flirting skills still sucked. I reached for my martini glass, almost empty. The last thing I needed was more vodka. I drained the last of the drink anyway.
Alcohol could only help the direness of my dating game.
Brandon planted his hands on the table. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to hit the men’s room.” He paused, glancing back. “You’ll be here when I get back?”
“Of course.” As embarrassing as my flirting was, I still wasn’t going to ditch the man who’d bought me dinner without even a goodbye.
He winked to tell me he’d been joking and turned toward the bar. I heard him ask Laurel where the bathrooms were located and barely a second later, she skidded to a stop next to my chair.
“Oh my God,” she mouthed before glancing at the door.
I did the same to make sure he was gone. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m so bad at this. Seriously, Laurel, you need to like pull the fire alarm and get me out of here.”
I imagined that the only thing more awkward than me making abysmal small talk would be trying to navigate a decent goodbye after this date/non-date.
“Are you crazy? I’d stretch this night out until morning if I were you.” She grinned devilishly, leaving no doubt what she was hinting at.
“No. I couldn’t do that.”
Could I? Spend the night with this man? Or even just a small portion of the night. A lot could happen in an hour or two.
My heart raced at the thought. I was still pondering and considering reversing my decision and making a break for the exit before he got back, when he cleared his throat.
“What did I miss?” he asked as he moved around the table and sat.
He scribbled his name on the receipt and picked up the credit card Laurel had placed there.
When had she done that? It must have been while encouraging me to be a bad girl with a stranger. I’d been too occupied contemplating my first one-night stand to notice.
She grabbed her copy of the receipt. “I need to get back to the bar.”
Laurel was ditching me. Leaving me to answer Brandon’s question about what he’d missed, which I had no answer to.
She skedaddled back to the bar and I was alone with him again.
This was crazy. He wasn’t the big bad wolf. He was a gentleman in a jacket and fancy shoes that looked like they cost as much as my rent.
And he liked me.
He seemed to find what I had to say interesting. Or at least he pretended to. But my emotional walls were built high and strong. Very few people had breached them.
My aversion to trust didn’t make for many relationships with men. Look where that had left me. Making deliveries on a Saturday night.
Fate, or the Otesaga, had delivered prime beefcake right to me.
The instinct to run away was strong. Avoiding connections meant I also avoided the hurt when the relationship eventually ended. But this time I was going to fight the urge to run.
“So . . . um, I think I would really like to see that suite.”
His eyes widened briefly in surprise.
Feeling insecure again, I rushed to add, “If the offer is still open, that is.”
I regretted the silly words the moment I said them. Until he smiled and stood.
“It is most definitely still open.” The deep timbre of his voice sent a thrill down my spine. He extended one hand to me. “A tour of the suite, it is.”
I placed my palm against his and felt the zing of electricity flow between us.
This was going to be either the best or the worst decision I’d ever made. Either way, it was happening.
Brandon led me to the exit of the bar, and I tried not to blush as red as the cherries in Laurel’s fruit tray when she flashed me a thumb’s up as we walked by.
The elevator ride up was eternal and silent except for the pounding of my pulse. If he didn’t hear it, I’d be surprised.
The walk down the long empty hall felt as ominous as that in the movie The Shining.
The suite was breathtaking. But so was the man in front of me trying to give me a tour of the amenities. I missed most of it.
All I could concentrate on was the heat radiating off his hand as he pressed it against my lower back and guided me in through the doorway.
I couldn’t enjoy the view of the lake when I was focused on his muscles beneath his shirt now that he’d taken off his jacket.
“The coffee maker in the kitchenette talks when you walk by, which I must admit is a little scary the first time you hear it.” He flashed me a smile over his shoulder before turning back to the living room. “And then of course, there’s the bedroom.”
He hesitated.
I didn’t. I took a step forward. He stayed right where he was, keeping us close together.
“I like your suite,” I said.
His lips twitched. “Oh, do you?”
“Uh, huh.” I nodded and took another step forward.
He reached out and squeezed my shoulder. “Then I’m very glad you came up to see it.”
“So am I.” I glanced up and caught his blue-green gaze.
He leaned down, just a couple of inches, as I raised on tip toe, putting myself in range of his lips.
It might have been the vodka, but I’d decided to go for it. And now that I’d made my decision to actually do this, I was ready to do it already.
I raised my hands and ran them up the front of his shirt, letting them linger over his firm chest muscles.
He dropped his gaze to my mouth, before lifting it to my eyes. He took one final step forward, closing what little distance remained be
tween us before resting his hands on my hips.
We were standing close. Close enough the fabric of my pants brushed his.
I wanted to be closer and I’d had just enough vodka in my system to allow myself to go after what I wanted. To pocket my insecurities and self-doubt. To lower my walls just enough to let him over them.
Pressing my body tighter against him, I raised my lips to his. Just for a second.
Brandon didn’t hesitate. He brought his hands up to cup my face as he sucked in a breath through his mouth.
Then he kissed me, gently at first, then harder.
I was in a suite kissing the man I’d just met. It was crazy. I should be afraid. I should leave.
For once I didn’t want to do what I should. I wanted him.
I felt him hard against me and knew he wanted me too.
His thigh sliding between my legs as his tongue slipped against mine took the kiss to the next level.
I ground against the friction of his leg while groaning.
When had I become such a wanton woman?
Were the ingredients in Laurel’s cocktails known aphrodisiacs?
I was going to have to research that because something had flipped the switch on the sexual beast inside me. The one that had been hibernating for years.
Of course, maybe it was just Brandon. I’d never met a man quite like him. And I certainly had never had a man—any man—so completely into me.
I was considering steering us to the sofa when something vibrated against my pelvis.
We both ignored it until it happened again and for some reason, it gave me the giggles.
He pulled away from my mouth and smiled. “Sorry about that.”
“It’s okay. It was actually located in a pretty good place.” Now I was making bawdy jokes about vibrating cell phones near my crotch. Definitely a chance aphrodisiacs were involved here.
He grinned wider and pulled the cell from his front pants pocket. He didn’t even glance at the display. Instead, he tossed it onto the table nearby and turned back to reach for me.
“You can reply if you want.” I needed a second to get my breath back anyway.
He shook his head, pulling me closer to him. “Nothing that can’t wait, I’m sure. Hey, do you want something? Coffee? Wine? Bottle of water?”
I wanted something, but it didn’t come in a bottle. I shook my head. “I’m good, thanks.”
“Mind if I grab one?” he asked.
“Not at all.”
He moved to the fridge in the kitchen area and of course, I couldn’t help but watch his butt. But once that was out of view, my gaze hit on the cell’s display, lit again with another text. A text from someone named Mina. A text that read, “Call me. Doesn’t matter how late.”
My stomach plunged as I saw the picture that came up with the contact. Mina was gorgeous. Perfect. Young. Thin. Beautiful. Smiling.
What the hell? He was kissing me while this Mina was at home waiting for his call?
My stomach turned. In fact, I might possibly vomit on the no doubt very expensive Persian carpet in the suite’s living room.
Brandon returned, water bottle in hand and I knew I had to get out of there.
“I have to go.”
His smile faded. “Oh. All right. Is everything okay?”
“Fine. Thanks for dinner,” I said.
He followed me to the door, which I’d already opened.
“Can I call you?” I heard his question as I was halfway out into the hall and ignored it, pretending I didn’t hear.
I bypassed the closed elevator doors and pushed through the doorway to the stairwell.
This was why I didn’t trust men. This was why I didn’t have a boyfriend. This was why I couldn’t depend on anybody except myself.
I’d have to be sure to remember that.
Next time I saw a handsome man who pretended to be interested in me, I’d run the other way.
Maybe even kick him in the groin first.
It certainly felt as if I’d been kicked by Brandon.
Five
Brandon
“How was your weekend?” Mina asked when she arrived bright and early Monday morning.
I considered my answer carefully. “It . . . had its ups and its downs.”
“That sounds intriguing,” she said, brows raised.
“Yes. Some parts.” Very much so. Particularly one woman and her very talented tongue.
I smiled at the memory of my evening with Bethany, even if it had ended abruptly and all too soon.
Of course, the part when I retrieved Mina’s concerned texts about our candidate suddenly trending on Twitter didn’t lend itself to a relaxing night. And then I got the SOS text from Josh the next morning, which constituted my weekend’s lowest point.
It had yanked me away from my upstate retreat before I’d even gotten to partake of the hotel’s legendary Sunday brunch.
Hell, I hadn’t even made it into Mudville, which had been my destination to begin with.
The plan had been to check out of the hotel after brunch and drive to the small town where I’d hoped to stop in at one particular bakery and say hello to a certain pretty little baker.
But that was not meant to be, because when the shit hits the fan in politics, it tends to spread far and wide. And the blowback is fast and furious.
Normally, I lived for the thrill. The race to gage public reaction. The brainstorming of how to counteract the negative press, or play upon it depending on if the candidate we were representing was the victim or the victor in the controversy.
This weekend I wouldn’t have minded a nice boring news cycle just this one time.
Alas, the unpredictable nature of the ever twisting—and twisted—world of politics was out of my control. So here I was, back at my desk with nothing but memories of lavender cocktails and bakery dreams.
Mina set down a fresh cup of coffee for me, as she always did when she arrived. “Anything for me this morning?”
I let out a snort of a laugh. “About a dozen things.”
“Pretty much what I expected. I had a feeling that story might mean trouble for our guy if it turned out to be true.”
I snorted out a laugh. “Oh, it’s true all right. And it just dumped a boatload of work on us.”
“That’s okay. Just the way I like it,” she said.
Her smile looked so genuine, I actually believed she might be telling the truth. “Good. It’s all in the company message system.”
“Gotcha.” She nodded and was off to her desk as I attempted to get back to where I’d been in my work before she arrived.
“Hey.” Josh popped his head through my open doorway.
I should have reminded her to close the door.
“Hey,” I replied.
“You never did tell me how your visit to Muddytown was.”
“I never actually got there. I was happily enjoying my stay at a hotel nearby, about to visit Mudville,” I stressed the correct name of the town for him, “when you blew up my phone with text messages.”
He cringed. “Sorry about that. But in my defense, when I sent you away for the weekend, I didn’t realize the party’s front runner had salacious lingerie pics floating around just waiting for a hacker to find.”
I blew out a breath. “I’m sure he didn’t realize it either.”
At least the scandal meant full and immediate restoration of my access to the company servers. I was able to hit the ground running by the time I’d arrived here at noon yesterday.
Getting access back felt as if a missing limb had suddenly regrown. I could breathe again.
Based on the data coming in, Josh spewed a few plans for how to spin the situation to try to salvage our guy’s reputation. At this point in the campaign, the field had narrowed considerably, but the party’s nomination was still up in the air.
After some strategizing, thankfully, Josh moved toward the door and I looked forward to being left alone once again.
But then he tur
ned back.
“When did you start work this morning?” Josh asked.
“I don’t know. A little while ago. Why?” I’d been at my desk since five a.m. but I wasn’t keen on admitting that to the man who’d apparently stepped into the role of my surrogate mommy.
He glanced at his watch, then at the paper to-go cup on my desk, next to the two coffee mugs. “It’s only eight and you’re on your third cup of coffee.”
Shit. Busted by my coffee habit.
He glanced at the sofa where, thankfully, I’d taken the time to put away the blanket and pillow. “You sleep here last night?”
“Uh . . .” What to do? What to do? Lie? Tell him to fuck off? Lock my damn door from now on? I really liked the sound of that last idea.
He pressed his lips together. “Brandon—”
“Josh, we’re navigating a fucking crisis here. And I swear to God, you fuck with my server or internet access and I’ll—”
“Stop.” He held up one hand to silence me before I got my threat out. “No work crisis is worth your health.”
“My health is fine.”
“So was my father’s. Then his secretary found him slumped over his desk, dead.”
I sighed. “I know. But—”
“Just please. Stand up. Walk around a little bit. Just ten minutes every couple of hours. That’s all I’m asking. As far as health threats go, sitting is the new smoking, you know.”
How could I argue with a man whose father had died on the eve of our graduation from NYU?
I couldn’t. We’d been roommates and best friends. I’d lived through it with him.
“Okay.” I agreed.
He lifted a brow. “Okay? You agree to do it?”
“Yup.” I stood and grabbed my coffee mug and my cell phone. "See. Here I go."
If I was going to wander around aimlessly just to keep Josh happy, I could at least check my personal email and drink some coffee during it.
“Good. Thank you. I appreciate it.”
I snorted out a laugh at his overwhelming gratitude over my doing nothing more than standing up.
“You know what? I think I’m going to set a recurring message on the internal messaging system, reminding everyone to stand up and walk around every two hours.”