“What made you decide on education? I mean, no offense, you don’t strike me as the teacher sort.”
“I get that often, but really I just love kids. I went for secondary education because I don’t want to be wiping noses and dealing with vomit, but if I got offered something in elementary, I’d take it in a second.”
“You probably get some good practice with your niece. That Delilah is precious.”
“She’s the best thing in my life. What about you? Any nieces or nephews?”
“I’m the oldest of four, so no nieces or nephews.”
“Wow. How’s that?”
She thought for a moment, taking a sip from her water. “It’s loud and fun. My family is crazy, and my parents are awesome. It’s…all those things. My mom was a professional ballet dancer that gave it all up to be a mom. Dad is a contractor.”
“How did you end up working for Bridget?”
“Luck. And a lot of BSing on my part. I was looking for an internship. She was my first choice since I wanted to do event planning, but she said she didn’t do interns. I pressed and asked for a meeting anyway. That was it. I worked my ass off during the internship, and she offered me a job as her assistant. I’d like to say it was all about my skills, but I think she realized how much she was doing on her own, and she couldn’t anymore. With me, she’s able to take on more weddings and leave me with details, while her attention can be on the clients. I work hard so I can do it all myself someday.”
She continued to impress me. There were so few people, who were in their twenties like us, that knew what they wanted and went after it. She grabbed her career by the horns and owned it.
“What?” she said.
“What what?”
“You were staring.”
“No. Just processing. You’re very ambitious. I could probably learn a thing or two,” I said, winking.
She smiled and shifted in her seat before reaching back to tuck her hair behind her ears. “I don’t know. I saw how you worked last night, and you seemed to do it very well.”
I shrugged. “I’m not bad at it, and I don’t think I’d hate it if I did it forever. But it’s not what I feel in my heart, you know? Plus, it’s a killer on my social life.”
“Really? I thought it’d be the opposite. I’m sure you meet lots of…interested people.”
“Nice choice of words. I work a lot of nights and weekends.”
“Huh,” she said. “Lucky for you, so do I.”
It was then time for me to squirm in my seat. Everything about her made my blood run hot in the most intense way. I could feel it in the way my heart raced and how with simple words or gestures she turned me on. I was sure I was staring again; in fact, I know I was, but this time she was staring back. There was this energy between us, and I was hoping she was trying to make sense out of it all, too.
Our food coming broke the spell, and we ate while we continued to talk. She was so easy and engaging to talk to that when she checked her phone for the time, we’d realized the hour she was supposed to be away had come and gone.
“I better get back,” she said, motioning for the check.
“Will she give you shit for being late?”
“Probably, but then she’ll forget about it five minutes later.”
“I’m glad she finally brought you into WET,” I said, my voice lingering on the word wet. I focused a hard gaze in her direction in the hopes she would catch the vibe of just how into her I was.
She grabbed hold of what I was sending out, her eyes staring back at mine. My confidence began to rise, along with other things, and I thought she was understanding exactly what I wanted her to.
She rolled her eyes. “Smooth motherfucker, aren’t you?”
Or maybe she wasn’t.
Shake it off, Abel. She’ll get there. She’s almost there already.
“I do my best,” I said. “Is it working?”
The check was placed on the table, and we reached for it at the same time. She reached it first, placing her hand on top of it, just as my hand landed on hers. I knew she said she wanted to pay, but I wasn’t going to let her without a little protest.
“Nope. I said it was my treat,” she said, wiggling her hand out from under mine. “You can take care of it next time.”
And there was going to be a next time. I knew I better strike while the iron was hot.
“Do you like to run?” I asked.
“After a breakfast like this? Not usually. At the gym later, though.”
“No,” I said, laughing. “I meant, are you a runner?”
She shook her head and made an adorable duh face for not following me. “No races or anything, but yes. I like to run.”
“I like to go on Sundays. You can stop by my place, and we can run along the lake if you aren’t busy.”
“I’m not much of a morning person, plus I have a wedding to work with Bridget Saturday night. How’s ten o’clock?”
“Perfect,” I said. “I’ll make brunch when we get back.”
She smiled as she looked through her purse and pulled out her wallet. “A Sunday run sounds good to me, but I think we both should agree on one thing before.”
I dreaded what she was going to suggest but asked anyway. “What?”
“No expectations,” she said. “Just a run between friends, okay?”
It was nothing to dread, well, except for her using the kiss-of-death word friends, but I was willing to overlook that because it made perfect sense.
“Lucky for you, I’m a great friend,” I said.
“Oh, I’m sure you have a list a mile long of them, Abel.”
Perhaps.
But that was nothing to worry about now. Evelyn in tight running clothes? I was making a mental folder of images as she paid the bill.
* * *
“Ma! I need help!” I shouted, pounding on their door before opening it with my key. “Ma!”
“We’re in the kitchen, honey,” she called back.
There were certain benefits to having my parents living in the same building as me. For example, when I was supposed to have an extremely hot girl over for brunch in an hour and having no idea what to make or how to make it.
I walked into the kitchen; my father was sitting at the table, reading the newspaper, and my mom was adding more grounds to the coffeemaker.
“Coffee?” she asked.
“Yes. But I also need help with something.”
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“Not really,” I said, reaching into the cupboard for a coffee mug. I searched, pushing the other cups to the side, to find my Chicago Blackhawks mug. “I need to make brunch for a girl today, and I don’t know what to make.”
“Today? Why did you wait until the last minute to plan?”
I poured my coffee, filling it up to just below the rim. “I didn’t. I’m asking you now.”
Mom pushed the sugar and cream over to me, even though I told her every time I’ve had coffee for the past five years that I took it black.
“Is she waiting now?” Dad asked without looking up from the paper.
“No. Of course not,” I said.
“Daniel, really?” Mom said. She sat down next to him and playfully hit him in the arm.
Dad lowered the paper, looking at me over his reading glasses pushed down his nose. Mom didn’t need to know about the couple of times Dad ran into me escorting one of my walks of shame out of the building. Not only was it awkward for me, but I knew the girl had to be embarrassed to meet her one-night stand’s dad in the lobby of the building that also housed his parents. There isn’t a girl alive that would love meeting fuck buddy’s dad with sex hair and last night’s dress a wrinkled mess.
I raised my eyebrows back at Dad and took a sip of my coffee. “We’re going running and back to my place for brunch.”
“Well, if you’re running,” Mom said, “you should have something light and healthy for brunch. Maybe fruit and an egg-white frittata with veggies?”
“A frittata? Really, Mom? Like I know how to make that.”
“Oh!” she said, standing up and rushing to the counter. She grabbed a plastic-wrapped loaf and started unwrapping it. “I made babka yesterday. You can have this as a little sweet side with your brunch.”
I crossed the kitchen in two steps, yanking the babka from her hands. “Yes, please!”
“Don’t bend it!” she scolded. She sighed before turning to the refrigerator. “Do you want some cinnamon butter to go with it?”
“Yes. Cinnamon butter is good.”
She handed it to me, and I took it gently. “This is great, Mom. Thanks. Now. Can you tell me how exactly to make a frittata? I mean, I know it’s eggs, but what is it really?”
She raised her eyebrows at me at the same time Dad snorted.
“What?” I asked.
A crack of a smile appeared on my mom’s face. “Sweetie. You know what a frittata is, but more importantly, if you’re trying to impress a lady friend I wouldn’t leave it up to you to make yourself.”
“How hard could it be?”
“Not very, but you don’t want to try a new recipe when you’re under pressure,” she said. “Why don’t you go on your run, and I’ll have it all ready for you at your place by the time you get back.”
She wasn’t entirely wrong. I hated her doing things for me because it made me feel as though she thought I wasn’t capable. On the other hand, maybe she knew me best and maybe that meant I wasn’t.
“Hello!” my brother Aaron said, entering the front door.
“In here, sweetie,” Mom said.
“Mom,” I said. “Are you sure you want to do that for me?”
My niece, Delilah, ran into the kitchen ahead of Aaron. She was holding her little Minnie Mouse close to her chest, her light blond hair curly and wild.
“What are you whining about now?” he asked.
“I’m not whining. Hey, squirt,” I said. I set the babka and butter on the table before turning to Delilah. I tickled her all across her tummy, watching her giggle and pretend not to.
I scooped her up and began to spin her as she laughed.
“More, Uncle Abel,” she shouted. “Faster!”
At five, she was so amazing and took completely after my brother, instead of the deadbeat mom of hers. While I was sad Delilah would probably never know her mother, it was for the best. She was strong-willed, wicked smart, and completely lit up a room with her smile. Plus, with the way things were going, Callie was going to be her mom someday.
“What do you want in the frittata, Abel?” Mom asked.
“I don’t care,” I said, throwing Delilah over my shoulder.
“Well, what does she like,” she asked, opening the refrigerator again.
“I don’t know. We’ve only been out once.”
I remembered the deal I made with Evelyn. It was going to be our secret for now.
“Dude,” Aaron said, taking Delilah from me and setting her down. “Do you have a girl waiting at your place right now? Hell. Make your own breakfast for her.”
Dad snorted again, his paper held over his face, but I could tell by the way his hands and paper shook he was laughing. “Why would he do that when Mom can do it for him?” he asked.
Aaron matched Dad’s laugh. “Some things never change, huh?”
“Shut up,” I said. “There’s no one at my place. We are meeting in—” I looked at the clock, seeing that I had a half hour before she was supposed to arrive. “Shit, I have to go.”
Aaron punched my arm. “Language,” he said, pointing to Delilah.
“I have some goat cheese and herbs. I can sauté some veggies to put in there,” Mom said.
“Perfect,” I said, grabbing the babka and butter. I rushed to Mom, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “Best mom ever.”
I patted Delilah on the head, shouting good-byes as I ran toward the door. I heard my dad ask my mom why she always babied me.
“Because it’s what we all do,” Aaron said.
I shook it off as I left the apartment, rushing to my own place. After a quick shower and change for the run, I got a text from Evelyn letting me know she was downstairs waiting.
My eyes scanned the lobby of our building as soon as I stepped off the elevator, but I didn’t see her anywhere.
I walked toward the revolving door, wondering if she was possibly waiting outside, but I heard her laugh, not just a laugh from her, but a laugh that I already knew was hers, high and full of enthusiasm. She was talking to Rob, the doorman, on the other side of the door.
Even though there’d been ample material collected in my mind, I don’t think I adequately prepared myself for how she would look in tight running pants and the fitted zipped jacket that covered up entirely too much of her. She wasn’t as done up as I’d seen her in the past, but she looked every bit as beautiful. Her cheeks were flushed pink from the chilly lake breeze, and her hair was pulled up into a tight ponytail on top of her head.
“Hey,” I said, emerging from the revolving door. “There you are.”
I leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, her skin cool against my warm lips. I instantly noticed her scent, that perfume she’d worn every time we’d been together. I was going to have to ask her what it was.
“Hey you,” she said. “I didn’t know whether to come in or not, so I started chatting with Rob here.”
Rob had been working at our building for the last four years and, suffice it to say, had seen me around with a lady or two.
“I heard your laugh, there is no mistaking it,” I said.
I rubbed my hand against her back, as she leaned in against my chest.
“There is for sure no way to mistake my hyena-type laugh. You could hear me clear across a crowded room.”
“I think it’s adorable,” I said.
She snorted softly before playfully punching my chest. “Smooth, but there’s no bullshit on my grocery list today.”
She pulled her hoodie over her head, tucking loose strands of her hair into it. “Let’s go, Abel. Let’s see if you can keep up.”
Rob cleared his throat as I started to jog off after her. I turned, and he gave me the thumbs-up. “I like this one already. She’s different,” he said.
“I agree.”
She wasn’t kidding. I did have trouble keeping up with her. I tried not to be chauvinistic and think that there was no way a girl half my size could give me a run for my money. She totally did.
We started off at a slow jog together, but after about a mile, her stride became stronger and faster. I trailed behind, fighting to catch my breath and stay more in time with her. Not only was she faster, but she was also the worst kind of distraction, especially from the back.
Her jacket hem stopped at her hips, hugging around her waist, while her spandex pants gave me a full and pleasant view of her ass. It wasn’t like I hadn’t checked it out before, but now, with just a thin layer of fabric covering it, I had to fight off the urge to grab her behind and make out with her until she couldn’t remember her own name.
I was imagining what she was wearing, if anything, under those pants when the distraction became too much. I tripped and stumbled, trying to regain my balance before she noticed.
“You okay back there?” she shouted, turning around and continuing to jog backward.
“Fine. I’m great. And you don’t need to shout. I’m not that far away.”
She adjusted her hoodie, pulling the frayed strings tighter around her face. “Want me to slow down?”
And miss this view. No way.
“Or are you enjoying the view?” She grinned, a wicked, sexy grin that I was sure was going to get her whatever she wanted out of me, whenever she wanted. No doubt this girl could get any man to do whatever she wanted.
But I wasn’t going to let her know that. Yet.
“Yeah, I am. The lake looks beautiful today.”
“Uh-huh,” she said, turning back around. “Come on, slowpoke. You’re going to have to
work harder than that if you want to catch me.”
I was beginning to figure that out all on my own.
Chapter Seven
EVELYN—
Men are so predictable and easy. They see a pretty girl in tight pants, and they think we have no idea that running behind us isn’t because they are slow, but because they are checking out our ass.
Or maybe they are slow, too. I was leaning more toward ass patrol.
I would’ve never admitted it, but I was enjoying it immensely. While I had prefaced this outing with a “no expectations” stipulation, I secretly had many of them.
I expected him to continue to let his eyes roam around my face while his dimples subtly appeared.
I expected him to continue to let me know who he was, what his goals were, and how he was appearing to be nothing like what I perceived him to be while these things were gradually unraveling.
I expected his touch to be somewhere on my body again.
I expected him to kiss me.
Expectations often led to disappointment, but on the rare occasion that they came to fruition, it was so very delicious. It was why I was here. He was the delicious.
We rounded the corner by his building, and I slowed, allowing him to catch up. After a few moments, he jogged up next to me, breathless and sweaty.
Walking off the run in circles, regulating my own breathing, Abel was bent over with his hands on his knees, inhaling sharply.
“Maybe you shouldn’t do two things at once?” I said, leaning against the concrete building and stretching my legs.
“Two things…such as…huh?” he asked, panting.
He stood, extending his arms above his head, which caused his jacket and T-shirt to ride up. I saw a snippet of his tight abs and smooth skin with the slightest hint of treasure trail. It was maybe the fifth time I had seen him, and I still couldn’t get over the size of him. Without knowing for sure, I estimated he was six two and made of iron. He obviously lifted weights, but he wasn’t bulky. He was just solid. Solid man.
“What was that about two things at once?” he asked, winking.
I was standing with my leg pulled up behind me by my ankle, stretching, when his abs hypnotized me. Maybe women were as predictable as men.
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