Bold

by Jennifer Michael

  I’m tidying up my desk before I leave for the day when Brazen rises from his office chair. My eyes follow as his long legs bring him closer to me.

  “What are your plans tonight?” he asks while leaning into me.

  He was quiet all day. I didn’t mind. We had work to do, and my desk gave me a clear view of his handsome face. I was happy to sit and watch him work.

  “I have a class up at the center in about a half hour,” I tell him.

  “Are you walking there?”

  “I am.” It’s not too far. Plus, I don’t have a car.

  “I’ll walk you,” he insists.

  What I want to say is, Yes, I’d like that. Instead, I say, “You don’t have to.”

  “I want to.” He tucks a wayward hair behind my ear.

  “Okay then.” My smile grows so big that my jaw hurts.

  I can feel it—the shift, the chemistry between us that is burning a bit brighter right now. It’s in the way he’s looking at me. Some of the cloudy indecision has lifted from his eyes, making the vibrant color all the more bright.

  We grab our things, and Brazen locks up behind us when we leave. Side by side, we walk down the sidewalk, away from the office and toward the center. Those damn butterflies spring to life in my stomach. But Brazen? He seems calm and collected. His tall frame towers over my petite build, and the dark sunglasses he pulls down hides his eyes from me.

  “So, tell me about this art stuff,” Brazen casually says as we walk.

  “It’s an outlet for me. In the past, I’ve only really played with pencils, markers, and crayons, but I’d like to explore more. I want to paint, sculpt, and do everything else I can get into. That’s what I’m doing at the center.”

  “You any good?” There is a teasing playfulness to his words.

  “Why don’t you find out for yourself?” I counter, still positive our time together is over for the day.

  Now in front of the center, Brazen holds the door open for me. I step through the threshold, and a pang of disappointment runs through me now that our walk is over. It’s quickly snuffed out when he follows me inside.

  “What are you doing?” I ask him.

  “Finding out about your talent for myself,” he says dryly while pulling his sunglasses from his face.

  “You’re going to crash my class?” I never thought he’d come to it, and I was being flirtatious when I mentioned it. But, if he’s serious, I’m not going to talk him out of it.

  “I am. Just show me where to sign up.” With his hand, he mimics signing on the dotted line.

  He has a surprise in store for him; that’s for sure. Once we get him set up, I take him back into the classroom. Most of the seats are already filled, but Brazen and I take the last two positioned next to each other. I open my bag, get out my supplies, and share with him because he is ill-prepared for our class.

  “Do we just draw whatever we feel like?” he asks, testing the drawing tool.

  “Not exactly.” I evade. “Can you draw?”

  “Do blueprints count?” He shrugs. “No one would spend money on anything I created, but I can do better than stick figures and one-dimensional landscapes.”

  It’s then that our instructor walks out, followed by a beautiful woman.

  Brazen doesn’t give her a second glance and focuses all of his attention my way.

  Until she removes her robe and takes position on the stage.

  It’s cute to watch a grown man blush.

  “What’s the matter, Mr. Hale? Have you never seen the feminine form in all of its beauty?” This moment is too priceless not to taunt him.

  Brazen looks so much younger as he grows uncomfortable beside me. He can’t look at me, and he doesn’t sneak even the smallest glance at the model. His sight traces the cracks in the ceiling.

  “I’ve seen my fair share. Just not like this and not while sitting next to the girl I came here to impress.”

  Teasing him becomes much less important.

  Brazen Hale—my boss, this perfect beachy, surfer type—came here … to this class … to impress me. The words came out of his mouth clear as day.

  “I’ll be impressed when you can look me in the eyes again.”

  His eyes drop to mine, and there is so much honesty and sincerity in his stare, it gives me pause.

  “Relax and breathe. We’re here to draw this girl. I knew that before you crashed my class. I’m comfortable, so you should be, too. You’re going to need to be if you want to stick around for the hour.”

  He shakes it off and smirks at me.

  My insides clench, and I force myself to take my own advice and relax.

  Our teacher makes her rounds around the classroom as the hour goes on. Brazen draws, keeping his attention firmly on his paper, and I attempt to frazzle him, but he won’t be disturbed. His eyebrows furrow, and he bites his bottom lip while he works. I attempt to concentrate on the woman before me, which is nearly impossible with Brazen next to me.

  I focus on her hard nipples, but his scent wafts into my space. I will myself to keep my eyes on her deep curves, but I’m distracted by the slight hum he releases when he’s immersed in thought. Her long legs lose my attention when the man next to me flexes his arms to release the tension from his back. My drawing is barely halfway finished when the class is over. Brazen comes to stand next to my easel as the rest of our classmates pack their things.

  “You’re much more talented at this than I am,” he compliments.

  “We’ll have to see about that. You were so focused. You must have at least had some beginner’s luck.”

  I move to step around him so that I can check out how he did. I’m shocked at what I find. The lines are messy and certain areas display that he clearly struggled to bring real life on paper. Those things aren’t what surprise me though. I’m taken aback because what he drew on his paper isn’t the model.

  It’s me.

  From memory, Brazen drew me sitting on the porch swing from the first day we met. He even got the pattern of the dress I wore that day right. The words to respond are knocked right out of me. My fingers trace the lines of his drawing, and I fight to keep my emotions in check.

  “What do you think? Should I sell the business and become a starving artist?”

  I clear my throat. I need to in order to respond.

  “Maybe not just yet.” I collect myself and turn around to face Brazen, who is looking down at me with so much affection.

  “You’re probably right.” He reaches out and runs his fingers down my jawline while wearing the most genuine smile I’ve ever seen.

  “Why didn’t you draw the model?” I have to ask.

  His fingers trace down my neck until they tangle into the back of my hair. Gently, he pulls back, lifting my chin so that my eyes are locked with his. If I had any doubt about how Brazen sees me, it vanishes right there.

  “Why would I give my attention to anything else when I came here with you? Yours is the human form I find most beautiful.”

  Slowly, he pulls me closer, and I believe we’re about to share our first kiss. Instead, he wraps his arms around me and clutches me close to him. Even if it isn’t the kiss I was expecting, it’s still the best hug I’ve ever had.

  “Come on, let me walk you home,” he says as he releases me.

  Romance movies have always been my obsession, but never did I think I would have a moment that rivaled the intense emotions those films bring out in me. I never thought real life could be like when Jack and Rose were kings of the world or when John and Savannah wrote to each other while he was deployed. Until Brazen. He just gave me emotions that exceeded my favorites. This is better than when Jack painted Rose like one of his French girls and when Savannah and John told each other they’d see each other soon because this isn’t fiction.

  It’s real, and it’s mine.

  Brazen

  Professionalism is out the window.

  My decision to keep things completely platonic is gone.

  Re
sisting is no longer on my agenda.

  I don’t even know when or where it happened. One second, I was appeasing Sunday by taking a quick walk, and the next second, everything changed. As I saw Noah’s eyes light up when we talked about art, I was no longer there out of obligation. My reservations left with the model’s clothes, and I had no desire to see anything in the room but Noah. Everything changed. The hesitation inside my head disappeared, and my heart opened.

  There is one thing I have to do before I make a move though, and that’s talk to Sunday. I’ve asked her to meet me at the office early. I don’t need permission from her. Hell, she’s been practically throwing Noah at me, but Sunday and I are her bosses, and I figure we might have a few things to talk about. Sunday’s main focus is on my happiness. That’s always been her priority, but there is also the business to consider, too. We’re a team.

  “Ready for me to say I told you so?”

  The door isn’t even closed behind me before she pounces.

  “Take a minute to gloat, and then let’s have an adult conversation. Can we?” I move forward and take the extra cup of coffee from her hand. “Thanks.”

  “Welcome. So, I’m right then? You are here to admit I know what’s right for you better than you do?” She sets her own cup down as I walk away from her and sit at my desk.

  “Are you finished?” I fold my hands together near my face.

  “No, not yet.” Sunday begins to walk in a circle.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Enjoying my victory lap.”

  “Will your big-head parade be over soon? We only have so much time alone this morning.”

  Noah will be here within the hour.

  I’m nervous about this, and Sunday isn’t helping. My track record with women hasn’t been the greatest, and getting involved with someone I hired could blow up in my face if I’m not careful.

  My high school girlfriend of three years was so insecure that she needed saving from herself. She had an immeasurable way of always tearing herself down, but I was always there to try to build her back up. My college girlfriend of five years suffered from anorexia, and I held her hand through all her therapy. She eventually left me for her therapist. My last girlfriend after that had declared bankruptcy by the time she was twenty-two. I met her after all that, but she hadn’t grown much from the huge life setback. She was constantly asking to borrow money from me while switching jobs every three months. For a girl without much money, she sure knew how to spend it.

  Have I been taken advantage of in the past?

  Yeah, probably.

  But I don’t regret it. Everyone needs a little help sometimes. I’m not saying that Noah does, but my pattern is pretty obvious. I’m attracted to hot girls who need direction. Noah could be just another girl, which I doubt, or she could be the girl all my past relationships have led to. I don’t know. I do know that I can’t not go for it and kick myself later for wondering. Not one bit does she remind me of the girl who needed to be told how beautiful she was one hundred times a day because she could never believe it. I’ve seen zero inclinations or warning signs of mental health issues like I did with my college girlfriend. Noah might have been without a job when I first met her, but she’s done nothing but work hard to learn my business. She’s smart and funny, and for whatever reason, she looks at the world with such wide eyes. Her perspective is fresh and untainted. I’ve never met a more positive person in my life. I like that about her.

  “I know what you’re thinking, I can read it all over your face. Leave memory lane behind. Noah isn’t some wounded little bird who needs saving.” Sunday breaks me from my thoughts of ghosts of girlfriends past.

  “I know that, Sun.” There is no reason to beat around the bush.

  “Good. Glad you have finally caught up.” Sunday gives me her smart mouth.

  “I’m her boss, and she’s young, Sunday. This doesn’t seem like a recipe for disaster?”

  “Did you call me in here early to tell me you were going for it or because you were looking for a way to talk yourself out of it?” She sits at Noah’s desk and pages through the art pamphlet left on top.

  “I called you in here to tell you I’m going for it.”

  The nine-year age difference between Noah and me hasn’t changed, and I’m still her boss. Both are just excuses.

  My best friend looks at me with all the sincerity in the world.

  “I’m not declaring love or anything, but Noah is different. Maybe the real-deal kind of different.” My voice is steady as we hold eye contact.

  Sunday barely even blinks as she studies me for something. “Wow, I expected to hear you say you were interested, but I didn’t think I was going to get all that. I know, after pushing so hard, I’m going to sound crazy, but I have to ask, are you sure?”

  “Is anyone ever really sure about this type of thing?” I counter.

  “At some point, yeah, I think so.” She drops the pamphlet back on the desk.

  “I’m as sure as I can be. It’s early, and there are all the other excuses we have already been over, so, no, I’m not sure, but I’m positive I don’t want to regret not finding out.”

  She sighs loudly. A piece of her hair flutters from the whoosh of air she lets out. Before she can respond, Noah walks in, interrupting our conversation.

  Sunday drags her eyes from me and looks at Noah.

  I smile as I take in Noah, who’s wearing another little sundress.

  Noah looks back and forth between us and fidgets a bit. It’s really fucking cute.

  Sunday rises from Noah’s desk and shoots me a look that gives me pause.

  I stand a bit too hurriedly, and it causes Noah’s apprehension to grow.

  “You”—she points at Noah, who seems to be puzzling something out—“let’s go.”

  What the hell is she doing? Didn’t we just get done talking about how I was going to make my move? Where the hell is she taking Noah?

  Sunday turns, her finger swinging in my direction, her smile stretching into a wicked grin. “You need to be on site in less than twenty minutes for a delivery.” Sunday looks at her watch as she tells me what I already know.

  “Where are you going, Sun?”

  “Call it a field trip. Don’t worry; I’ll take good care of our assistant.”

  Why can’t she just leave well enough alone?

  I try to connect with Noah from a distance, but the girl who has been the topic of conversation this morning only shrugs and follows my best friend out the door without a word to me.

  Great. I’m not sure where my conversation with Sunday ended up or what her plan is, but I guess I’ll just have to let the cards play out. Sunday has never had a bad intention for me in our lives. Just to be certain, I send her a text.

  Me: Sunday, behave.

  Sunday: Of course! Now that I know how serious you are about her, surely, I should get to know her. Don’t worry; I’ll only require three personal references and narrow the personality quiz down to fifty questions.

  Sunday, the comedian. Her humor and sarcasm don’t settle my nerves.

  Her response was a joke, right?

  Noah

  Am I intimidated? You bet.

  Am I going to show that to Sunday? No way.

  Do I have any idea what she’s up to? Not a clue.

  I’m for damn sure curious though.

  Neither of us has spoken a word to each other since we got in the car. I want to ask her where we are going, but I figure I’ll find out when we get there. Within a few minutes, Sunday pulls into a front row spot of a small shopping center. She doesn’t move to get out, and I follow her lead.

  “We’re here,” she tells me.

  “Okay, and what exactly am I helping you with?” I keep my voice professional and courteous.

  Sunday is my boss, and my job mostly consists of paperwork, so I have no idea what she needs from me here.

  “We’re not here for work.”

  “We’re not?” I’m not
sure why I play dumb. I already had my suspicions.

  “No, we’re not.” She pauses and removes her sunglasses. “We’re going to get pedicures, my treat.”

  I don’t buy that, not entirely.

  “We’re skipping work to get our toenails painted?”

  Sunday laughs and says, “I might have ulterior motives. I want to talk.”

  “Can I ask, is this unplanned girls’ day to talk about work or . . .” I let the question hang.

  There is no Brazen and me. Nothing between us has gone past friendship. He hugged me the other night when the moment felt so right for a kiss, but that was it, so finishing my sentence feels presumptuous.

  “You like him?”

  “He’s my boss. He gave me a job. Of course I like him.”

  “That isn’t what I meant, and you know it. Listen, you seem really sweet, but Brazen is like a brother to me, and I’d do anything for him. I’ve seen countless girls take advantage of his kindness. He sees them as lessons and experiences, but I know they just simply weren’t good enough for him. I, myself, have put him through a lot, too. I just need to make sure he’s happy, sooner rather than later.”

  Well, I guess that answers the question of whether Brazen is into me or not. After all, if he had zero interest, then this conversation wouldn’t be happening. I suppress the little voice in my head that’s yelling and screaming in happiness and nod. I get what she’s saying. I also respect it. If I had a friendship as deep as theirs, I’d be the same way. Sunday is looking out for Brazen. The only issue here is that she might be a little too premature in her worry. Whatever is happening between him and me hasn’t developed yet. I can’t even be certain he wants it to go any further at all.

  “So, would it be too forward for me to ask what exactly he said to you to prompt this conversation?” I bite my lip. I’m sure Sunday knows more than I do, I’m just not sure if she’ll tell me.

  “I’ll let Brazen handle that question. I’ve been involved enough, but I don’t think you have anything to worry about, Noah.” A huge smile spreads across her face that brings me comfort. “Make him happy, please. No matter what happens, just make him happy.”