by Cathryn Fox
“Exactly. Would you like to join me?”
Panic flashes in her eyes, but then it morphs to polite interest. “I would love to, but I’m not dressed for it.”
“I could pick you up at your place after you get changed, or better yet, why don’t you come to my hotel. I have some spare clothes you can slip into.”
“I…I…”
“Say yes. I’d love to get caught up, Rae. It’s been too long don’t you think.” Yeah, from Friday night until today, was far too long for me.
“Your clothes will float on me.”
I arch a brow. “So that’s a yes?”
She hesitates again, but as I wait, something inside her softens and a small smile tugs at her mouth. “I’d be happy to get caught up, Nate. If I can borrow a shirt,” she touches her blouse. “These delicate buttons will likely pop open in the wind on a bike.” Her eyes go wide, like she realizes what she just said, but she recovers quickly and says, “I can wear my yoga pants and sneakers.”
Pleasure moves through me, and I’m fully aware how much I’m looking forward to spending time with her. “Come on,” I say, and gesture with a nod.
“I’ll meet you downstairs, I just have a couple emails to send.”
There’s a strange sensation in my chest, one I can’t quite put a name to, as I leave her and make my way downstairs. I pace the lobby and glance at my watch. Christ, is she having second thoughts? I fucking hope not. I want to spend time with her. Correction, need to spend time with her.
That thought has me stilling. Is this still just about sex? I have no idea, but I do need to see if she’s stalling. I make a step toward the elevator, but when the doors ping open, she exits. My breath catches. She is so fucking pretty.
“All set?” I ask, sounding like I’d just swallowed a glass of razors. I clear my throat, and she eyes me.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, fine.”
We step outside, and I don’t miss the way she leans forward, shadowing her face with her hair. “Have you ever been on a motorcycle?” I ask her.
“Nope.”
“Scared?”
“Ah, should I be?”
I grin at her. “No, you shouldn’t be.” I nudge her with my body and she sways. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”
She gives me a big smile, and my chest tightens. God, I want to kiss her again. We hurry to the hotel, and I take us up to my floor. Once inside my room, I walk over to my suitcase, which I didn’t bother to unpack, and root through it.
“Here,” I say and hand her a shirt. “I’m a little low, one seems to have gone missing.”
“Oh?” Averting her eyes, she ducks into the bathroom. “Maybe housekeeping picked it up by mistake,” she says through the closed door. I stand outside of it, and listen to the wisp of her blouse as she removes it. My fingers itch with the need to touch her again, prove it’s her I really want.
The knob turns and I step back as she comes out with my oversized shirt, looking so sweet, so adorable, so girl-next-door, it takes every ounce of my strength not to toss her onto my bed for our third date. Seriously though, what is it about a girl in my clothes that hits me in the chest, somewhere around the vicinity of my heart? Wait, correction. What is it about Rae in my clothes that hits me in the chest? Women have worn my clothes before, but never did it have this kind of affect on me.
“Nate,” she says quietly as I continue to gawk at her.
I scrub my face, needing to do something with my hands before I put them on her. “Yeah.”
“You ready?”
If she’s asking if I’m ready to taste her again, the answer is hell yes, but I think that’s just wishful thinking on my part. And the truth is, as much as I want to touch her again, I do want to spend some time getting reacquainted. I want to get to know this grown-up version of the girl I’d crushed on for oh…ever.
“One more thing,” I say. I go to the closet and pull out my leather coat. When I turn back, she’s staring at her blouse—the one I removed from her body—now folded neatly on the dresser. I wait a moment, to see if she’s going to say something. When she doesn’t, I hold out the jacket. “Put this on.”
She spins to face me and I take in her flush as I dangle my leather coat in my outstretched hand.
She frowns. “What about you?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“I’m not going—”
“Yes, you are. Now put this on.”
“Bossy much?” She turns, and I put the coat over her shoulders, then stand back when she faces me. “It’s huge,” she says.
“That’s okay. I don’t plan on taking any spills, but if something happens, I want you protected.”
She angles her head and gives me a smile. “That’s very considerate of you.” We both stand there, heat arcing between us, taking up space as it sizzle and demands attention.
Rae snaps out of it first and points to the door. “We should go then.”
“Right.” I grab my helmet and the spare one from the closet and we take the elevator to the parking garage. I lead her to my bike. “Come here.” She faces me, and I put the helmet on her head. My fingers graze her soft skin as I latch it and she visibly quivers. I have to say, I fucking love how she reacts to my touch.
I help her onto the bike, then climb on. “Hold on to me,” I say, and without hesitation, her small hands wrap around my chest and link together. I pat them, then start my bike and pull into traffic. I drive through the streets and head to the market.
When I stop my bike in front of Gary’s Grill, she puts her mouth close to my ear. “What are we doing here?”
I set the kickstand and we both climb off the bike. “I have been craving one of Gary’s turkey burgers for the last six years.”
She laughs. “They’re the best, right?”
“Right. I’m going to get them to go. What do you want on yours?”
“Everything and extra horseradish.”
“A girl after my own heart,” I say, and that damn blush returns.
I order up our turkey burgers, grabbing four because neither of us had eaten since lunch, and hand the bag to Rae. “Will you be able to carry this and hold me with one hand? I forgot my backpack.”
She lifts her arm to push down the big sleeve of my leather coat and nods. “Where are we going to eat them?” she asks.
I wag my brows. “It’s a surprise.”
She eyes me as we both climb back on the bike. She rests the bag on her leg and slides one hand around me. Once again I pull into traffic, and cut down the streets until we’re sitting outside our elementary school. She’s laughing when I stop the bike.
“Why are we here?”
“Why not? This is where we met, remember?”
“I remember. Michael Fraser took my pencil and snapped it. I was crying and you gave me yours.” She gives a slow shake of her head, and her too big helmet wobbles. “What ever happened to that guy?”
“Who knows. Probably out torturing some other beautiful girl.” Her gaze darts to mine at the compliment, and I take the bag from her and capture her hand to take her around back, where I hope we’ll find a playground.
We round the corner, and sure enough there’s a swing set, teeter-totter and a few other pieces of equipment. “Race you to the swings.”
I take off, and she’s laughing when she yells, “We’re not eight anymore, Nate.” She chases after me, but I reach the swings first.
“I know we’re not eight, but you teach work/life balance, so what better way to de-stress, right? You know what they say about all work and no play.”
“This is not how I normally de-stress,” she says, shrugs out of the oversized coat and sits on the swing next to me. She kicks out her legs and starts swinging. When a smile lights up her face, my chest squeezes. She should smile like that everyday.
“So how do you normally de-stress?” I ask.
She drags her feet on the ground to slow herself down, and when she comes to a complete stop,
she turns to me. “Truthfully, I’m a bit of a workaholic.”
I open the bag, take out two turkey burgers and hand her one. “Yeah, me too.”
She takes a bite of her burger and rolls her eyes. “My God, these are good.”
I bite mine, and groan. “So good.”
She eyes me. “So how did you get into coding? I mean, I know back in high school you were really smart—”
“So were you.”
She shies away a bit at the compliment then says, “Thanks.”
“I went to Stanford, got recruited by Data Solutions, and have been working in the California branch for the last couple years. When a lead position opened up here, I was offered the job.”
“Are you happy to be back?”
“Happier than I thought I would be.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I get to spend time with you.” I give a slow shake of my head and chuckle.
“What?” she asks.
Deciding to put it right out there, I say, “Do you have any idea how much I crushed on you back in high school? Actually, I think it started right here, in elementary.” I glance around the playground and she follows my gaze.
“Really?” She crinkles her nose. “I had no idea.”
I shrug, take another big bite, and chew. A minute later, I say, “I know. You were just so…out of my league, and I didn’t have the nerve.”
“Out of your league, are you kidding me?” She frowns, then adds, “Are you sure it wasn’t Saralynn you were crushing on? All the guys liked her.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Oh, the fact that the guys who dated me were only doing it to get close to my sister. I blended into the woodwork, Nate. I stood in Saralynn’s shadows.”
“Is that what you think?”
“It’s what I know.”
“Is that why you’re still single? You don’t trust guys or think they see you for you?”
Her chin lifts. “I love my sister, I really do. But sometimes…”
“It sucks having her for a sister.”
She grins. “Yeah, I guess. God, I feel so bad for saying that.”
“Don’t. You can tell me anything.”
A long pause and then, “Why are you still single?”
“Janice in Human Resources thinks I have commitment phobia.”
“Do you?”
“Maybe the right girl just hasn’t come along, Rae” I say.
“No one calls me Rae anymore.”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“Actually, no,” she says and goes back to eating her burger. “It sounds right when you say it.”
“Want another one?” I reach into the bag, and she nods.
“Good thing I don’t have to kiss anyone tonight after all this horseradish.”
“That’s too bad that you don’t have anyone to kiss tonight,” I say, my gaze dropping to her mouth as she swipes her tongue over her bottom lip.
She swallows hard, her lids fall slowly, and open again when she asks, “Do you?”
“No, not tonight,” I say, and hand her another burger. We eat quietly for a bit, and when I’m almost done, I ask, “So tell me what got you into work/life balance?”
A heavy seriousness comes over her as she finishes her last bite. “When I was in college, a girl on my dorm floor committed suicide. Counselors came in to talk to us and I became interested in mental health. I want to help people.”
“You’re as nice as I remember.” I crinkle my wrapper and put it back in the bag. I stand and grip the ropes on her swing.
“What are you doing?” she asks, as she tosses her wrappers in the bag and holds on.
“You just told me you were a workaholic. You help everyone else find fun and balance, and I think it’s time you had some fun too.” I pull her back and give her a big push, she yelps, and kicks her legs out. Soon she’s flying high, her laugh curling around me. I jump on my swing next to her. “Let’s see who can get the highest.”
I kick my legs out and soon I’m swinging higher than her.
“You better stop or you’re going to go over the bar,” she warns.
“Can’t happen,” I say. “Saw it on MythBusters. You can’t, under your own power, do a three-sixty.”
She slows, and is a bit breathless, when I drag my feet along the ground to stop myself. “MythBusters?”
“Yeah, a show that tries to break myths. What, you never heard of it?” She shakes her head, and I confess, “I’m still that geek, Rae.”
“You’re a lot of things,” she says, and jumps from her swing.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Instead of answering, she says, “Race you to the monkey bars.” She takes off and I catch her easily, scooping her up in my arms. She squeals, and I set her behind me so I can reach the bars first.
“My God,” she says when she catches me. “I don’t remember you being so competitive.”
“I go after what I want. Nothing wrong with that, right?”
She goes quiet for a moment and says, “Nothing at all.”
We spend the next couple of hours playing on equipment and just talking, getting caught up in our six years since high school, and I have to admit, I like everything about this girl. Like, a lot.
But what can I do about it? She’s still not coming clean about last Friday. I don’t want to come right out and tell her I know. I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize this thing between us—whatever it might be.
As time flies by, and not wanting this night to end, I say, “The art festival is going on downtown. What to check it out?”
She looks down, her hair covering her face. I can’t help but get the feeling she’s worried someone will mistake her for her sister, and she’ll have to spill the truth. “It’s getting late, and I have an early morning tomorrow. We both do, and I need to go over some notes, so I should probably head home.” She hesitates for a long moment, then says, “Maybe we can go tomorrow.”
I grin. “Work and play. I like it.”
“Here you said you were a workaholic too, and yet you’re anything but dull,” she says.
“Yeah, I know, but being around you makes me want to play,” I say, putting it right out there.
Her chest heaves at the implication, and I capture her hand, grab my jacket, and lead her back to my bike. I put the coat over her shoulders and help her into it, then we pull on our helmets, climb on and I take her home. I park outside her condo and help her off.
She turns to me, and her eyes are warm when she says, “Thanks, Nate. I can’t remember the last time I had fun.”
Unable to help myself, I dip my head and press my lips to hers. I slide my tongue over her bottom lip and a soft, breathless moan rises in my throat.
At first she’s hesitant, but when I coax her mouth with my tongue, her lips part. Small hands slide around my back and tug at my shirt. My cock thickens, presses against her, letting her know in no uncertain terms what she does to me.
A car drives by and honks, dragging us both back, and she abruptly breaks the kiss.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” she says, despite the way she melted into me.
Sorry. Not sorry.
“Why, because of the horseradish?” I ask.
“No, it’s just…I don’t kiss on my first date,” she responds quickly, her gaze moving over my face, and this time she’s gauging my reaction, like she’s trying to figure out if I know.
“Is that what this is, Rae? A first date?”
“I…we were…”
“I need to know,” I say.
“Why?”
I grin, and brush her hair from her face. “Because there are different rules for different dates, and when I see you tomorrow, I need to know which to apply.”
5
Raelynn
A loud noise outside my door reaches my ears and I practically jump from my chair. Ever since Nate kissed me last night, and wanted to know what number date we’d be
on tonight, I’ve been a nervous freaking mess.
Tell him two, or better yet three.
Christ, after all the dirty, delicious things he did to me on date two, what would a third date entail—naked and having sex while skydiving.
Find out, I dare you.
As I curse at the inner voice, I move papers around on my desk, pretending to work, but not able to focus. I had so much fun “playing” with Nate yesterday at the school, not to mention what we did in his hotel room, that I’d been unable to think about much else.
In a few minutes, he’ll be walking into my office for my last appointment of the day. Honest to God, I can’t believe how much he’s changed physically. Underneath it all though, he’s still that same sweet guy I grew up with. Yeah, sure, he’s still a gamer geek, but damned if I don’t like the kinds of games he plays outside of work—sexual and otherwise. The fact that he took me to a playground, asked about me, my work, and wanted to introduce a little balance into my life, touched me on another level. No guy had ever been so considerate, or just wanted to get to know me better.
Talk about the complete package.
One I could easily fall for.
But he slept with me thinking I was Saralynn. Or did he? Jesus, I’m so confused. Should I just straight-up ask him if he knew, or tell him I was pretending to be Saralynn?
Yeah, sure, go ahead and do that, Rae. Way to let him think you’re a nut job.
My cell pings and I see it’s my sister, wanting to hang out. We’ve been playing phone tag for the last few days, and haven’t had a chance to connect. Either I’m at work when she reaches out, or she’s out partying when I text back. No doubt she’s found a hot new guy in Baltimore to play with while she’s home. I text her back, letting her know I have to work late, but want to do lunch with her soon.
The hard knock on my door zings through me and when I glance up and see Nate enter, his big body eating up the space, breath leaves my lungs. No guy has a right to go around looking like that deliciously dirty and sinful. How can any woman in the building be expected to get any work done with sex in a shirt strolling the halls?
“Nate,” I say, keeping my voice even, professional, as I stand and gesture to the chair across from me. “Right on time.”