by Denise Wells
I know Remi and I had chemistry at one point, ten years ago. But do we still have it? No doubt about it, the woman is gorgeous. I mean like cartoon-guy’s-eyes-popping-out-of-his-head kind of gorgeous. A dark-haired Jessica Rabbit in human form. And Remi is a spitfire so I can see her tapping out on Alex during sex. But Alex doesn’t seem to be lacking in lady skills.
What if she just doesn’t like sex? What if she’s frigid? The thought makes me shiver as we’re walking. And not in a good way.
“Cold, simpleton?” she asks, eyebrows arched.
“Just a little draft, I think. You okay?”
“Oh, I’m good.” The way she says it, the huskiness in her voice, makes me hope that maybe this won’t be such a bad night after all.
We take our seats at the table, boy-girl-boy-girl, and peruse the menus while waiting for the staff to take our order.
“So, you guys know each other?” Alex asks Remi and me.
“He worked a case with my friend, Kat, earlier this yea—” she says at the same time that I say, “We hooked up in college.”
“Which is it?” Alex asks with an uneasy laugh.
“Both,” I say at the same time Remi says, “We never hooked up.”
“Huh. Okay. So, Harley…” Alex turns toward Harley and begins talking to her.
I face Remi. “What’s it gonna take to thaw you, Icy?”
“Thaw me?” she scoffs. “That’s a good one. Did you think of that all on your own?”
“I did,” I say, then add, “And I went potty all by myself today too.” Only I say the second part in a baby voice.
She starts laughing, which is what I want. She’s stunning when she laughs. It warms her face, which is usually so stoic; and her laugh is full. You can tell that she’s enjoying herself and isn’t afraid to feel it or show it. It’s one of the few times she shows any emotion at all, outside of anger or disdain. A man could get addicted to it.
The staff comes by, Alex orders a bottle of wine for him and Harley. I order a martini for Remi, extra dirty, and a bourbon, neat, for myself.
“What if I didn’t want a martini?”
“You always order a martini,” I say. “And you always order it extra dirty. It’s like you think the olives are the appetizer course.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Her voice drips with sarcasm. “I didn’t realize you were an expert on my life and how I take my cocktails. Please continue while I take notes.”
“Would you prefer something else?”
“No, it’s what I would have ordered,” she sighs. “But there might be a time when I don’t want a martini, so stop being presumptuous.”
“You’re implying there will be a next time,” I say. “So now who’s being presumptuous?”
“Touché,” she says, and raises her glass toward me. I tap mine to hers lightly.
Time to step it up a notch.
I set my drink down; take hers and set it down. Then lead her by the hand towards the dance floor.
“I wasn’t finished with that.”
“I know.”
“It’s going to get warm,” she protests, pulling me back toward the table. She’s surprisingly strong.
“I’ll get you a new one,” I say, trying to get her to once again move in the general vicinity of the dance floor.
She plants her feet and leans in the opposite direction of where I’m trying to get her to go. I think about letting go of her hand and watching her fall, but that’s definitely not going to get her to dance with me.
So, I try something else. I look her in the eyes. “Please dance with me?”
That does the trick.
Her face softens. “Don’t think I’m not immune to your puppy dog eyes. I’m choosing to dance with you.”
“Understood,” I grin.
We reach the floor and I pull her into my arms. Loving the feeling just as much as ten years ago at the party, and two weeks ago at the law enforcement ball. The song is sultry and bluesy, and the woman singing has a deep, beautiful voice.
“I love this song,” she sighs.
“What song is it?”
“It’s called ‘Misty Blue.’ The singer is doing a bluesier version, like Etta James. But my favorite is the version by Dorothy Moore. Nothing against Etta James, she’s a God as far as I’m concerned.”
“Is it bad form for our date that I don’t know who any of those people are?”
She laughs. “Not at all.” I’m glad we’re dancing to a song she likes. She’s humming and singing it softly; it’s like her entire demeanor has changed with this one song. Her body practically melts into mine. She seems almost relaxed.
I don’t know what the next song is either, but I do know that it changes her entire body language. The change is subtle, but it’s definitely there.
“I’m hungry. We should head back to the table and order.”
I offer her my forearm once again and lead her back to our seats. Harley is laughing at something Alex has said, and he’s leaned into her. Suffice it to say, I think their date is going very well.
“Have you guys decided on dinner?” I ask Alex.
“No,” he says. “We’ve been talking. I’ll look now.”
I open my menu and try to figure out what I’d like to order.
“Hey,” I say to Remi. “Look, they’ve got meals for two. Want to share?”
“No,” she says flatly.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m sure I won’t like what you like.”
“Do you know what I like?” I can’t help it, I wiggle my eyebrows at her.
A move I seem to do a lot around her. She rolls her eyes at me. A reaction she seems to have a lot around me. But I’ll take it. At least it’s a reaction, which is better than none.
If I’m going to get her to agree to go out with me beyond tonight, I’m going to need some kind of reaction from her. This has got to be the easiest way to make twenty-five hundred dollars outside of gambling or prostitution. I can’t fuck it up. I picture Mom and Dad on that cruise, and Mom is beside herself with happiness. I want to give that to her.
My mom has given to me and my sisters for our entire lives. Not only raising us while my dad worked long hours at the precinct. But also taking in sewing and alterations at night after we were asleep, for extra money.
This is our opportunity to give back. In a way that we know she will love. I turn back toward Remi in time to hear her say, “No, but I’m sure it’s rare beef of some sort combined with a fat slathered starch.”
Oh, right, we’re talking about dinner. And what I would order from the menu. Well, shit, she’s right. There’s not much that I like more in this world than a medium rare cowboy steak and a loaded baked potato.
“Well, what were you thinking of ordering?” I ask her.
“Fish.”
“At least it’s not salad,” I mutter.
“What?”
“Nothing,”
“No, tell me what you said.”
“I said at least it’s not a salad,” I say.
“What’s wrong with a salad?”
“For a meal? Everything.”
“Well, not all of us have to feed that much body.” She gestures at me.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It wasn’t.”
I wish someone was keeping score here, because I should get bonus points for being so fucking patient with her.
And nice.
I’m so fucking nice.
“How about the surf and turf for two?”
“Why do we have to get anything for two?” she shoots back.
“Because we’re on a date.”
Harley interjects, “Are you guys getting a meal for two?”
“No,” Remi says at the same time that I say, “Yes.” I swear this woman and I will never be on the same page.
“Oh,” Harley says. “Well, we’re getting the chicken parmigiana and pasta for two. Alex says we’re going to reenact the spaghetti scene from L
ady and the Tramp, but only if I plan to let him kiss me on the first date.” Harley giggles. Alex preens.
I give Alex a look. Because, really dude, where’d your balls go?
Even Remi is giving him a look. He just shrugs his shoulders. Harley looks positively enchanted. I guess if nothing else, he’s totally got her number. Figuratively speaking.
“Gross,” Remi says quietly.
“So gross,” I agree.
Remi starts to giggle. It’s a lovely, light tinkling sound.
Since when did I start using words like ‘tinkling?’ And ‘lovely?’
Oh, for fuck’s sake, Bauer, where’d your balls go?
But I laugh with her anyway. I’ve already admitted I’m addicted to the sound, I can’t go too much farther down the proverbial rabbit hole now. Can I?
She gives me a look that can only be described as devious.
“Would you like to share the surf and turf for two? I can’t guarantee it will lead to a kiss, but there is something delicious in it for us both.”
I like that way she says that.
A lot.
“Why, yes, I would, Ms. Vargas. Thank you for the concession.”
“Concession?” she asks. “Are we in a debate? A contest? Who’s winning?”
“Isn’t life just one big contest, beautiful?”
“And, Mr. Bauer for the lead,” she says.
I smile.
“But not quite the win.”
Oh.
Chapter 12
Remi
He’s acting different tonight, but I can’t quite put my finger on what it is that’s not the same. Regardless, I’ve got to step up my game, otherwise I’ll never get four weeks of dates, and I can kiss my Louboutins goodbye. And literally watch them walk down the street away from me.
He places our order with the waiter and orders us both another round of drinks. There’s a small part of me that likes this ‘take charge’ side of him. Like I know that I can sit back and relax, he’s going to handle everything. I don’t have to worry at all. I’m safe and cared for. It’s a feeling that completely freaks me the fuck out and that I crave intensely at the same time.
My parents had me late in life. I was an accident. There’s fifteen years between my next closest sibling and me. So, not only am I not close to my brother or sister, but my parents didn’t appreciate the disruption that a baby caused to their lives. They’d built a successful business together and once they sent my older brother, their youngest, off to college it was supposed to be time to travel and take time for themselves. Not raise a three-year-old.
So, they put off the travel until it was acceptable to send me to boarding school. And that was it. I rarely saw them after that. And I definitely never saw my brother or sister. They took their cue from my parents. If I wasn’t worth my parents’ time, then they definitely weren’t going to take the time to get to know me.
Which makes the idea of someone taking care of things for me completely foreign. The same with being cared for or loved, outside of Kat and Lexie. The three of us met in grade school before my parents sent me away, and we connected immediately. After I left, we all stayed in touch via letters, and shortly after that, email. Kat and Lexie were my only connections to the outside world and I valued that so completely even if I didn’t admit it. I craved it like one craves oxygen after being under water a few seconds too long for comfort.
My parents were extremely generous in that I never had to worry about getting a job in high school, college, or grad school. My tuition and living expenses were always paid for, and I was given a liberal allowance. What I didn’t get from them were birthday celebrations, holidays at home, or any kind of emotional connection whatsoever.
I don’t blame them, not anymore. But it took me a long time to get to that kind of acceptance where they are concerned. I wasn’t in the plan, plain and simple. Though why my mother didn’t just abort me or put me up for adoption, I’ll never know. I’m grateful for life, don’t get me wrong. But even I’m self-aware enough to know how fucked up it’s made me.
Which is why Chance makes me uncomfortable when he’s nice. When he cares. The bickering I can handle, that’s easy. In fact, the worse we get along, the better it is as far as I’m concerned. But even in the face of such dissension between us, there’s still something that intrigues me. I’m not bored with Chance Bauer yet. And I don’t know why.
I bring my attention back to the table when the waitress brings our cocktails.
“Where’d you go, gorgeous?” Chance asks.
“I was just thinking.”
“About?”
“Nothing even remotely important,” I say. “Hey, how about a toast?” I direct that at the whole table. Harley and Alex stop talking and look at me.
“You know, a toast? To blind dates clearly working out,” I say as I gesture toward the two of them with my glass.
“Well, and back to the two of you clearly working out,” Harley says. She’s so cute in her naiveté that I snort just a little bit when I laugh.
“What? I saw you two on the dance floor. There’s a connection there. You may not see it yet, but I do.” She smiles sincerely.
I scoff at that and look at Chance to see his reaction, but he’s a little more thoughtful than I’d anticipated. I backhand him in the stomach to get his attention. “That’s funny, simpleton, this is where you laugh at the absurdity.”
He looks at me. “I’m not so sure it is absurd,” he says softly.
I look at him skeptically. “What do you mean?”
He hunkers down closer to me. So close that I can smell him, he smells woodsy and clean.
“I don’t think the idea of the two of us together is a bad one.”
“Shut up!” I laugh and backhand him in the stomach again.
He doesn’t move.
Doesn’t change his expression.
“Are you serious?” My eyes widen.
He nods. “I am.”
I swallow what I’m sure is my heart in my throat as I try to digest what he’s saying. I mean, I know this was the plan all along, at least for me. I get him to date me for a month, I save my shoes, and I’m done. But that plan involves me convincing him to date me, not the other way around.
I mean logically I know he, or any guy for that matter, has to want to date me to go out with me. But that’s me pursuing him. And this, well this feels like he’s pursuing me. And I don’t like that feeling. I’m the one in control here. I’m the one who is deciding our fate. I’m the one who is saving my shoes.
Fuck.
This feels like he’s changing the game.
Yeah, that’s not going to happen.
“If you’re serious, then where do you see this going?” I ask, stalling for time while I try to come up with a counter plan to this new development.
“Do you mean like white picket fences and babies? Sure, if that’s what you want? I’m open.”
I choke on my martini.
“I’m kidding, Icy. Jeez. Relax, would you? I’m just saying that despite everything, I kind of have a good time with you, all things considered. And it might not be so bad if we go out again, you know?”
I calm down.
Okay, we are still on the same page. Well, for the most part. At least the page where I end it in a month.
Jesus.
“Don’t scare me like that again.”
“Sorry babe, didn’t mean to,” he says with a wink.
He called me babe.
I hate that.
He called Kat babe.
I hate that too.
“Don’t call me babe,” I say a little too harshly.
He holds his hands up as if in surrender. “Okay, no babe, sorry. In fact, forget I even said it just then. It is gone from my vocabulary.”
“Thank you,” I say.
“So, about that second date?” he asks.
“Why don’t we see if we make it through this one first,” I say. But then I remember the stakes. This is
n’t real life. This is saving my shoe’s life.
“Actually, let’s do it,” I say. I can tell he’s a little surprised by my change of heart. “Let’s set a date now. My schedule can get kind of busy with work, so if I get something on the calendar now, I’ll have to honor it.”
“Did I just hear you say you were planning a date in advance?” Alex interjects into our conversation. I can see the shock on his face.
“Yes,” I say. “We are having a great time. You did a wonderful job with this set up. And we plan to see each other again.”
“Great,” Alex says weakly.
“Right?” Harley says clapping her hands, clearly oblivious to Alex’s seeming distress. She reminds me of Lexie that way. Though I hope Alex’s response doesn’t mean he’s still hung up on me.
“It is great, Alex,” Chance says, a smug look on his face.
I don’t have the time to try and figure out what that little exchange between the boys means, because our food arrives. I’d opted for scallops as my surf part of the shared meal, and they smell divine. I start eating immediately. Not having realized how hungry I was.
The scallops taste just as wonderful as they smell, practically melting in my mouth.
“Good?” Chance asks.
“So good,” I practically moan.
“I like seeing you eat,” he says.
“Because you like to see things go in my mouth?” I smirk.
He laughs lightly “You got me there, Icy. But also because anything you put in your mouth, lends itself to that luscious ass.”
I want to take offense at that, but it’s hard when he’s looking at me with desire in his eyes.
Chapter 13
Chance
I’ve confused myself a bit tonight with some of the things I’ve said and done. Especially the comment about having babies with her. That was not something I’d expected to say. But oddly, once it came out of my mouth, it didn’t seem so bad.
Maybe I would like seeing Remi with my baby inside of her.
Except this is just for a month. And only so that I can help send Mom and Dad on their cruise. I need to get all of those other ideas out of my head immediately. ‘Cause that long-term relationship shit just won’t fly. Been there, done that. Not going to do it again.