by Alex Grayson
“Well, I didn’t technically see him. I was blindfolded.”
I brace myself for another shriek, but it doesn’t come. Instead, her brows dip low in confusion. “Say what?”
“You heard me. I was blindfolded.” She opens her mouth to question me further, but I beat her to the punch. “He sent me some lingerie and a scarf to wear over my eyes.”
Her eyes grow wide, but I see interest there, and maybe something more. Envy, maybe?
“I wanna be you,” she breathes, making me laugh.
“I’m sure you can talk Tony into blindfolding you,” I tell her, giggling.
She shakes her head, coming out of her daze, and asks with a note of disappointment in her voice, “So, you didn’t get to see him at all?”
“Nope.” I ask the question that’s been bugging me since last night and hope she can help me shed some light on the situation. “Do you think I’m totally insane for letting him in my house?”
Instead of answering, she says, “Come on. This is going to require some wine.” She grabs my hand and tugs me back to the dining room.
We both take a seat and she refills our glasses to the top. I gulp mine halfway down.
“Okay. First off, how did he get in your house?”
I look away from her, embarrassed. I don’t know the answer. I didn’t even ask him last night how he got in. I was so absorbed in the fact that he was there and the anticipation of what was going to happen, it didn’t even cross my mind. The man leaves me completely incapable of thinking straight.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “You know I always lock my doors. I would assume he had to pick his way in?” I pose it as a question, hoping she can come up with another alternative.
“Hmm… probably.” She thinks for a second, tapping her chin, before continuing. “Did you guys have sex?”
I look down at my hands in my lap, feeling a slight blush form on my face. “No.”
“Did he get too rough and demanding?”
I look up. “No. He was actually very gentle.” Which still surprises me. I wouldn’t have pegged Sterling for a gentle lover. I pictured him as someone that likes the rougher side of sex. I don’t know why I felt that way, but I did. And I have to admit, the thought of a demanding Sterling in bed has my girly bits tingling. I adjust in my seat at the mental image of him forcing me to do things I’ve never done before.
Liv scoots her chair closer to me and grabs my hand.
“You asked me if I thought you were insane for letting a stranger into your house, someone who I assume you let have free reign of your body?” She waits for my confirmation, and I give her a nod. “I would have to say yes.”
I go to pull my hand away. I was worried she would feel that way, but I knew she’d be right. I don’t make it far as she squeezes it tighter in her grip.
“Wait, I’m not finished. I do think what you’re doing is crazy, but I think it could be a good crazy. I think you should pursue this, but also stay cautious. The guy seems legit, but in the end you don’t know him, and until you do, keep one eye open. I want to see you happy, and I’ve seen a spark in your eye over the last week that I’ve never seen before.”
Tears prick my eyes at the sincerity in her voice. She knows everything about me, all the heartache I’ve been through, and my secret wish of finding a man that I can love and will love me wholeheartedly in return.
I pull her in for a hug and murmur at her ear, “Love you, Liv.”
She pulls back, just as the timer goes off on the oven.
“Love you too, Pop. Now, let’s go get some chips and dip and tackle my dress issue before I decide to wear a burlap sack.”
Later that afternoon, I walk through my front door with a stack of mail in hand. I set it, my purse, and my keys down on the kitchen counter and pull a bottled water from the fridge. I’m glad to be home. As much as I love Liv and want her to have the best wedding ever, she’s driving me crazy with the whole dress issue. I get it. She deserves it, but damn, the woman is picky as hell. We had to have looked through ten different magazines and about fifty different websites, and absolutely nothing caught her eye. We finally decided to call it quits and hoped the next time we’d have better luck.
Capping my bottle of water, I set it down and walk down the hallway to my room. I get halfway there when I hear my phone ring, which is still in the kitchen. Without stopping, I turn on my heel and backtrack. My feet move fast and my heart rate spikes thinking it could be Sterling. When I grab it from the counter, I’m shocked at the number displayed on the screen. In the year I’ve worked at Silver Technologies, Asher has never called me after hours before. I have his number programmed in my phone for emergencies and such, and he has mine, but he’s never used it.
“Hello?”
Crap. Did my voice just squeak?
“Hello, Poppy.”
Damn. He even sounds sexy over the phone. It’s smooth and gruff. The deep timber of it sends a shiver down my spine. I’ve talked with him over the intercom at work, but this feels different. I’m in my personal space right now. Up until our dinner the other night, I’ve never been able to imagine Asher in any other setting other than the office. But now, images of him sitting on a leather couch with his feet propped up on a coffee table, maybe with a glass of whiskey in his other hand, comes to mind. The image morphs into something more as I see myself walking over to him, his eyes glued to the sway of my hips, until I’m standing between his legs. He reaches up…
“… pair of cowgirl boots?”
I’m so engrossed in my ridiculous thoughts that I didn’t realize he was talking.
“I-I’m sorry. What?” I stutter.
“Am I interrupting something?”
“No!” I blurt out, and then feel stupid at my outburst. I take a deep breath and try to calm my racing heart. That damn image did a number on my brain. “No,” I say more calmly. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking about something else.”
“Care to enlighten me?”
I almost drop the phone. I will definitely not be enlightening him.
“No, thanks.”
I swear I hear him chuckle on the other end of the line before he says, “I was asking if you own a pair of cowgirl boots.”
I’m caught off guard by his question and have to think about it for a minute. Cowgirl boots? He really called to ask me if I own a pair of cowgirl boots?”
“Uhh…nooo.” I reply, drawing out the word.
“You can’t go to Texas without cowgirl boots, Poppy. It’s mandatory. Especially if you’re wanting to explore.”
I slap my forehead when I realize what he’s talking about. Texas, you idiot.
“Oh, well, I guess I better get a pair then.” I can’t keep the silly grin off my face at the thought of boot scootin’ in a pair of boots, knee-high skirt, and a plaid button-down. A thought occurs to me. “Wait. Do you own a pair?”
I can’t picture him being the type to wear boots. Or plaid shirts for that matter. It almost makes me laugh as I try to force the image out of my head.
“No, I don’t,” he says, clearly amused.
“But you just said it was mandatory,” I remind him.
Leaning a hip against the counter, I start flipping through my mail. There are a few bills and several advertisements.
“Not for me.”
“Are you, like, special or something?”
“No. I just don’t wear cowboy boots.”
I hear a beep in my ear, indicting an incoming call, and I pull it away to look at the screen. My stomach flips when Sterling’s name appears. Then a smile crosses my face.
“Poppy?” I distantly hear Asher call.
Damn it. I don’t know what to do. I want to let Asher go so I can talk to Sterling, but I also want to keep Asher on the phone. We’re actually having a comfortable conversation, something that doesn’t happen often for me in regards to him. I’m confused. How can I be attracted to two men at once? How can I want both of their attention? Asher’s never shown i
nterest in me, but he does seem to be opening up more, and I’m enjoying it.
I’m such a hussy. Especially after the night Sterling and I shared. Guilt plagues me.
“Hey, are you okay?”
I bring the phone back to my ear. I’ll call Sterling back.
“Yeah, sorry. Someone was beeping in.”
“Do you need to go?” he asks. There’s something in his voice, but I’m not sure what it is. It almost sounds like suspicion.
“No. I can call them back.”
He’s quiet for a minute, then says, “Cowboy boots. Get a pair this week. And while you’re at it, grab one of those plaid shirts. We’ve got to make sure you blend in and not come off as touristy.”
I laugh. “Yes, boss.”
I pick up the junk mail that’s destined for the trash and toss it, leaving the newspaper on the counter. I’m old fashioned and still enjoy looking through the local paper versus watching it on the television or reading about it online. I get that from my dad. Every morning he would sit at the table with a cup of coffee and the newspaper spread out before him.
“I’ll let you go. Enjoy the rest of your weekend, Poppy. I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Thanks, Asher. I’ll see you Monday.”
We disconnect and for some asinine reason, I’m disappointed at the loss of connection. I really enjoyed talking with him. The conversation was light, and I felt at ease with him. I wouldn’t say he’s uptight, but he’s generally very quiet and watchful, never letting too much of his personality show. It’s hard to tell the type of mood he’s in at work, but the other night during dinner, and then again tonight, he seemed like a normal person and not the silent businessman he normally portrays.
There is one thing that has my brain working overtime. Why did he call me at home to ask me about cowboy boots when he could have easily asked me at work on Monday? I shake the thought away, having no clue.
I grab the newspaper off the counter and take it, along with my phone to the living room. I toss the newspaper on the couch to read later. Right now, my shower is calling my name, and I need to call Sterling back. Walking down the hallway, I pull Sterling’s name up. Flutters form in my belly at the prospect of hearing his voice. I haven’t talked to him since last night, and I’ve been anxious all day to do so.
“Hey, Beautiful.”
I sigh with a smile at hearing him call me beautiful. I love when he calls me that.
“Hi,” I say breathlessly.
“I tried calling you a few minutes ago,” he says.
My smile slips away, and I pause in my bedroom doorway for a split second before continuing on to my closet. I try to act casual when I reply. “Oh, I was on the phone with my boss,” I tell him, feeling strange and awkward.
“In the evening? On a Saturday?” he asks curiously.
I slip my feet out of my shoes and place them at the bottom of my closet where the rest of my shoes are before going back to my room and sitting on the edge of my bed. I don’t like talking about Asher with Sterling. It feels wrong and makes me uncomfortable.
“He called to ask me about cowboy boots,” I tell him cautiously, wanting this subject over with, but also wanting to be honest. My earlier good mood now turns to anxiety.
“Cowboy boots? He called you on a weekend to ask you about cowboy boots?” he questions, a strange note in his voice.
“Yes. He uhh… he has business in Texas at the end of this week, and I have to go with him.”
I look down and fiddle with the blanket at my side as nervous jitters start to worm their way into my belly. Why do I feel so strange talking to Sterling about Asher? It’s not like Asher and I have anything going on. He’s my boss. All he did was call me to make sure I have the proper attire if I get a chance to explore a bit of Texas. I told him I had never been and always wanted to go, so I’m sure it’s nothing more than him wanting me to make the most of my first experience.
So why do I feel like I’m doing something wrong?
“You’re going to Texas with Asher Knight?” he deadpans.
I flinch at his tone. I keep waiting for the possessive attitude to come out. It doesn’t surprise me that he knows who my boss is. Is there anything he doesn’t know? Apparently so, because he keeps asking me questions—questions I really don’t want to answer.
“Yes.” I try to enforce some strength in my voice, but it doesn’t work. I pinch the material of my thigh-highs and let it slap against my leg.
“For how long?”
“Friday to Monday,” I admit, becoming more antsy and frustrated with all the questions.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. It’s obvious he can hear the edginess in my voice.
“Nothing,” I snap, then flinch when it comes out harsher than I intended.
My tone doesn’t deter him, and what he says next leaves me speechless for several seconds.
“Do you like your boss, Poppy?” His question is asked with a soft voice, but there’s still an underlying tenseness.
After I unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth, I decide to play stupid.
“Of course I like my boss. I work for him, don’t I?” I reply, knowing damn well what he’s asking.
“Beautiful, you know that’s not what I mean. Why are you acting nervous?”
What the hell is this? Did we start a game of twenty questions and I didn’t know? This is definitely not how I pictured our conversation would go the night after he came to me. I’m still a little confused by the whole encounter, not sure how I should feel, but I figured Sterling would bring it up right away, not imply there is something going on between me and Asher. And why in the hell isn’t he acting pissed? Why does he seem amused by it? What happened to the ‘you’re mine’ attitude?
I fling myself back on the bed, and I swear I hear him chuckle.
Finished with the apparent interrogation, I ask irritably, “Why are you asking me all these questions?”
“I just think it’s strange that your boss, a boss that runs a multi-million dollar company, calls his personal assistant on a Saturday night to ask her about cowboy boots. You don’t find that strange at all?”
Yes. Yes, I do. But I’m not telling him that.
“No, I don’t,” I say and pull myself up to a sitting position. “He was just trying to be nice because I told him the other day I’ve never been to Texas before and have always wanted to go. He’s a nice person, Sterling. That’s all there is.”
I hold the phone against my shoulder to free up my other hand and unclip my garter strap. I roll the first one down my leg, then move on to the next one. Sterling becomes quiet over the phone, so I pull it away to make sure we didn’t get disconnected.
Nope. Still there.
“Hello?” I say, wondering if he’s pissed that I’m being so flippant about Asher calling.
He clears his throat before he answers, his voice taking on a deeper tenor.
“I’m here, and I think there’s a bit more going on with Knight than you’re letting on.”
I don’t like what he’s saying, and I really need him to stop talking about Asher. I’ll never admit it to anyone, but I’ve always felt attracted to him. There’s just something about him that draws me in. It’s stupid, and I know nothing will ever come of it. That’s why I’ve always kept it to myself. No one knows, not even Liv, and I prefer to keep it that way.
“I really enjoyed last night,” I say, instead of acknowledging his last remark. I hold my breath, hoping he takes the bait.
He’s quiet for several seconds, and I start to fidget. The silence is eating at me. It’s almost as bad as him talking about Asher. At least with that, I know what he’s thinking. I get up from the bed and start pacing the floor.
Finally, he speaks, and I release my breath when he doesn’t bring up Asher again.
“I did, too. More than you know.”
My insides melt.
I stop at my window and peer outside, a smile pulling at my lips. Thoughts of last night run th
rough my mind. I can still feel his hands on me. I can still smell him and taste him. My eyes close as my skin starts to tingle.
“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?” His question is quiet and husky.
I lean my forehead against the cool glass and whisper, “Yes. When can you come over again?”
He laughs deeply and it gives me butterflies.
“Unfortunately, I have to stay away for the next few nights. Family obligation. I leave in an hour and won’t be back until Tuesday evening.”
At the mention of family, my curiosity piques, the haze of lust fading away. I know nothing about him. I lift my head from the window and turn to lean back against the frame.
“Does your family live close by?” I’ve never really asked him anything personal, so I’m not sure how he feels about revealing that part of his life.
Surprisingly, he answers right away and gives me more than I asked for. “About three hours away. My niece’s birthday party is tomorrow, and my dad has a business meeting he wants me to attend with him on Monday.”
“Oh. How old is your niece?” I silently beg him to continue talking.
“She turns fourteen, but Kia likes to think she’s turning thirty. She has her uncle wrapped around her little finger and she knows it, and uses it against me.”
I can hear the love and adoration in his voice and it melts my heart. This Kia is very lucky to have such a loving uncle. I think this, but it’s hard to imagine him with a child around him. I may not know much about him, but he doesn’t seem like the type to hang out with a fourteen-year-old girl.
“She sounds lovely, and she’s lucky to have an uncle that cares for her so much.”
“You get to meet her in a couple weeks.”
“What?” I squeak.
“I told you, Poppy, that this time next week you’ll know who I am. All of me. You’ll also know just how much I’m willing to do to get what I want. We’ve already established that fact, and I won’t stop until you’re firmly implanted in my life. I don’t believe in wasting time. My family is a big part of my life, which means they’ll be a big part of yours as well.”
My mouth drops open. That is the last thing I expected him to say. I’m glad he’s close with his family, but bringing me—whatever he thinks I am—to meet his family is big. It’s huge. I don’t even know what he looks like for Christ’s sake, and he’s already talking about me meeting his family? This is moving way too fast.