Finding Memories (Breaking Free Series)

by Becca Taylor

  He laughs. “I have the email notifications to prove it. By the way, I need to turn that off because it doesn’t shut up. At work, my pocket was buzzing the entire time I was meeting with the permits department. The only reason I signed up is to see what this whole thing is about. I’m giving it two months, but that’s because they gave me one month free.”

  “What the heck, you got a free month?”

  “Yeah, guys do.”

  “Are you kidding me?” I question. That’s just wrong on so many levels. They think women are just so desperate to sign up that … wait, I’m one of those women.

  “No. They must have a shortage of men.”

  “Well, I paid for six months to get the registration fee waived. So that just sucks.”

  “Six months?”

  “Shut up.”

  “I’m not saying a word.” I can just picture him all smug looking, with his money still in his pocket and his three hundred women lined up waiting for his response. Moving on to the real reason I called. “Anyway, I wanted to ask you a question.”

  “Ask away.”

  “Will you be my saveman?” I joke, but at the same time, I’m completely serious.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “The person I call if I need rescuing.”

  “You mean savior?” he questions.

  Why didn’t I think of that first? That is a much better name than what I made up. “Yes, that.”

  “Yes. But I have a better idea. How about if I was there when you go on your dates? Maybe I’ll go to the same restaurant with the chick I pick. We can rescue each other if it turns out it was a bad idea.”

  I’m not sure about that, but it might work. There will definitely have to be some ground rules on what we can and can’t do because what if one of us is having a great time.

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “When are you planning on going out with what’s-his-name? How long do I have to pick because it’s going to take me a little while to sort through my list?” Jeremy asks.

  “I can help you with that. And maybe next week.” I’m not sure why I offer to help. He should decide who he wants to date. I have no idea what his type is, but it will be fun to learn a little bit more about the dark and handy Mr. Slade.

  “Lunch?” he asks.

  “Today?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. Noon at Butter My Bread?” Our friends Caleb and Bentley own the deli, and it’s only a few blocks from my work. I can probably convince my boss to give me extra time since I’m meeting a person being featured in one of our stories. It will be off the clock.

  “See you then.”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  After we hang up, I wonder why I’m so excited to meet Jeremy. He’s a great guy—handsome and funny. This relationship is going to work out just fine, the business and the friendship. Now, I just have to make it through the next five hours of my day.

  EDITING PHOTOS IS torture on the eyes, and after a solid five hours of doing nothing but that, it's nice to get out. I finished everything I needed to at the office, and my boss was generous enough to let me leave for the day. Tonight, I still have more work but not for the magazine; I'm taking pictures at sunset on the beach for a recently engaged couple. Foxton Photography is my side business. I don't get a lot of work, mostly for family and friends, friends of friends, or referrals from clients, but the money I make allows me to save for those occasional splurges in life like my bad habit of lingerie buying. I have one dresser that proves it's a compulsion and not a necessity. Cotton, silk, satin, and lace—you name it—I've got a matching set of undies and bra.

  When I walk through the front door of Butter My Bread, I'm greeted by my three best friend's men. I get a round of hugs from Caleb and Bentley, and even Hunter comes from the back to say hello.

  “What'll it be today?” Caleb asks me as Bentley grabs my usual drink of raspberry iced tea. It's something they order special for me, which is another reason I love these guys. Not only are they good for my friends, but they have also become the big brothers I never had but wish I did.

  “I'm thinking the Rueben with an extra slice of cheese, but hold off for a minute. I'm meeting someone.” I still haven’t started that diet. Every day is a battle, and I constantly say I’ll start tomorrow.

  Just then, the bell over the door rings and Jeremy comes in looking deliciously rugged in his tight t-shirt, work boots, and cargo jeans that look like they are so soft from being well worn. His brown hair is messy in that perfect way that men can achieve with a sweep of their hands through it. Don’t even get me started on his big brown bedroom eyes. Good Lord, what am I doing? I must be hungry if I’m looking at him and saying the word delicious. Men are not delicious; they are hot. Speaking of which, it seems like it just got hot in here. I’m too young to be going through life changes already. They must have the stove on extra high. Yep, that’s it. I’m hungry, and they are cooking on high heat.

  “Hey, Jade. Am I late? I was at the site with the survey company,” Jeremy says.

  “Nope. You're right on time. I was just ordering.” Right. Focus on food and not the man who's standing so close that you get a whiff of his cologne and it makes you want to whimper. And now, clearly, I'm sexually deprived. Get it together, Foxton.

  All eyes turn to us, but it's Caleb who asks first. “This is who you were waiting for?”

  “Why did you ask that like I'm a bad disease, fucker?” Jeremy says defensively.

  “Because you are. I haven't been able to get away from you for over thirteen years,” he jokes.

  “Fuck you. And your life would have been shit without me. I bring the spice to you bunch of clowns.”

  “I'm pretty sure Kat is the one who does that,” I chime in. It breaks the banter between them, and everyone starts laughing when I was being completely honest.

  “You are right about that, Jade. Seriously, are you two, you know?” Caleb asks, pointing his finger back and forth between us.

  “We're working together,” Jeremy and I say in unison. Probably a little too quickly.

  Once again, all eyes scrutinize us. In speed talk, I give the rundown of the magazine and how J&H is involved. Maybe too fast because by the time I'm done, I'm out of breath and taking a giant gulp of my iced tea.

  “We're just going to sit out front. You know my usual,” Jeremy tells everyone then leads me to the table away from listening ears.

  “Thanks for getting me out of there. I tend to be all thumbs when I fib. I'm a terrible liar.”

  “You weren't lying, Jade. We are working together; maybe you didn't have to go into all the detail, but it's the truth. They just don't need to know about our side project. I'd never live that down.”

  “Right.”

  After Bentley brings us lunch, gives us a good stare, and smirks as he walks away, we get down to business. We start by switching phones. Between bites, we analyze our matches, and he wasn't lying when he said he had three hundred. I had already narrowed mine down to ten, one of whom is Linc.

  “This is the dude you're thinking of going out with?” Jeremy points at Linc's picture and makes a face.

  “Yes.”

  “This guy?”

  “He's nice.”

  “And boring,” Jeremy tells me, and I get annoyed.

  “He has a good job. He's sweet. Good looking. Why does that make him boring?” I ask.

  “He's wearing a suit and looks like he's posing for the cover of Business 'R' Us.”

  “No, he doesn't. It's called a head shot.”

  “This is your type?” he asks me while he puts my phone down.

  “I don't know. I guess.”

  “Jade, I think the universe set us up for a reason.” He smiles.

  “Why is that?”

  “Because I'm about to spice up your life too, Foxy.”

  That was the day I got my first nickname, and I liked it. Too much. I have no idea what he means, but should I feel bad for liking the wa
y he transforms my last name?

  IN LESS THAN thirty minutes, I have to leave for my date, and I’ve never been so nervous in my life. It’s not that I’m worried about going out with a man; it’s more that I’m terrified I won’t live up to his expectations. Why did I not think of this before?

  As I double check myself in the mirror, my black hair is straightened to perfection, the makeup I’m wearing gives my skin that “just walked off the beach” glow, my green eyes pop from the shadow and eyeliner I chose, and my pink lips are plump and shining bright with just a hint of gloss. The thing I’m second-guessing is my dress. When I bought it online, it looked cute with its three-quarter sleeves, tight bodice, and flared skirt. Since Jeremy’s date couldn’t meet him tonight, I’m flying solo, and I need advice. Out of desperation, I send him a text with a photo included.

  Me: Does this dress look good?

  Jeremy: It looks like a dress. Why are you asking me? Did I grow a vagina without realizing it?

  Me: I think you would shrink, not grow. Now, humor me. I need a single man’s opinion. Too much or not enough?

  Jeremy: Too much for the PTA, you mean? For the record I’m a shower and a grower.

  Me: TMI. I’m going on that date tonight. And what’s wrong with it? It has pockets.

  Jeremy: Pockets?? Definitely not enough. Wait, you’re going out with that head shot dude?

  Me: Yes.

  Jeremy: Then it’s perfect.

  Me: Liar. Hold on.

  It’s too late; he already has me ripping off the dress when I read the words PTA. That’s not the look I am going for. I’m aiming more for the confident, semi-sexy woman. I try on three completely different dresses and send him pictures of them too.

  Me: I’m waiting.

  Jeremy: Hold on. I’m looking.

  Me: You suck at this.

  Jeremy: Then don’t send a guy pictures of yourself dressed all sexy. And no to the purple, too low-cut. The white one is a definite no; you’re showing too much in the back. The green is too short.

  Me: Is the green okay besides too short? I think I like that one.

  Jeremy: Go with the first dress. That’s perfect.

  Me: The purple one?

  Jeremy: Hell, no. The PTA dress. But feel free to wear any of the above to one of the Slither shows when I can keep an eye on you.

  Me: I think I’m going to wear the green dress.

  Jeremy: Fuck, fine. Just don’t bend over, okay?

  Me: Okay. Stand straight all night. Got it.

  Jeremy: And make sure you have your phone with you and charged.

  Me: On it.

  Jeremy: And call me about ten minutes into the date just to let me know you’re safe.

  Me: Are you now my overprotective brother?

  I’m not sure I like the thought of that. The other guys I can easily picture as a brother type, but Jeremy, though, I just can’t. I like the protective side of him, just not the brother side.

  Jeremy: Hell no. I’m your savior, remember? I mean it, Jade. You need me, call. I’ll be there.

  Me: Okay, Jeremy.

  I took an Uber to the restaurant for two reasons—one because I plan on having a drink, and the second is more for my safety. I know that sounds odd if I want to make a quick escape, but I also don't want this guy knowing what I drive or following me home if he turns out to be a complete nut job. This way, I can easily leave and hide in my favorite lingerie shop, which happens to be across the street. Then I can have Mr. Uber pick me up when the coast is clear.

  As I walk through the door of the restaurant, I take a deep breath and give myself a pep talk. The hostess greets me and leads me to the bar where I'm meeting my date. I came a little early, hoping a glass of wine would ease my mind.

  Linc said to give his first name, and that he would make the reservation.

  As the hostess leads me to the bar area in the back, I ask her, “Can I ask you? Do I look okay?”

  “You look fantastic. First date?”

  “Blind date.”

  She smiles. “He's in for a treat, and Lincoln is a great guy.”

  “Wait, you know him?”

  She nods. “He comes here a lot for business meetings. We do a lot of catering for his hotel too. I love your dress.”

  “It’s not too short?”

  “No way. You have great legs. I’m jealous.”

  “Thank you for that.”

  “Anytime. Enjoy your night.”

  We pass a few more tables before we reach the bar.

  “Put anything the lady wants on Lincoln's tab,” the hostess tells the bartender.

  I order a white zinfandel but insist on paying myself. The first few sips ease my slight case of nerves, but when I look at the time, they return. Then when I start thinking about how I'm supposed to greet him, I finish half the glass in a big gulp. Do I shake his hand? That seems too formal and how I would greet someone I'm meeting for work. A hug seems overly friendly. What about the kiss on the cheek? No, too personal.

  A hand gently squeezes my shoulder, and I turn to see Linc standing there. He looks exactly like his pictures, which is a huge relief, but when he gives me a warm smile, my nerves ease. His arm goes around my shoulder, and mine wraps his waist in a side hug. It's natural, and somewhere between friendly and formal. Perfect.

  I point to the stool next to me and he sits down to join me for a pre-dinner drink.

  “I'll have an old fashioned and another of what the lady is drinking.”

  He turns to me once again. “I hope you weren't here too long.”

  “No, I just got here. I wanted to have a drink and get here before the dinner crowd.”

  “I was hoping to get here and have a drink to ease my nerves,” he says honestly.

  “Okay, the truth is, that’s what I came to do too.”

  “And are you still nervous?”

  I think for a second, and I can honestly say no. “Not anymore.”

  He clinks glasses with mine and says, “Here's to a new friendship, nerve free.”

  After we finish our drinks, we decide to sit at a table for dinner, but first, I excuse myself to hit the ladies’ room. As I am washing my hands, I hear my phone beep. Before I head back out, I check to make sure it isn’t something important like work or a reminder for tomorrow. When I pull my phone out of my purse, I see I have more than five unread messages, all from Jeremy.

  Are you good?

  Is he your perfect match?

  Just checking again, are you safe?

  Answer me, Jade. You were supposed to check in twenty minutes ago. Just send me a quick yes or no.

  If you don’t answer me in ten minutes, I’m driving there.

  Five minutes left.

  Three minutes.

  One minute and I’m not joking. I’m jumping in the truck now.

  I quickly dial his number since that message just came through. When he answers, I quickly blurt out, “I’m good. Sorry, I didn’t hear my phone out there.”

  “You’re going to kill me, woman. I was ready to go there with guns blazing.”

  “Guns, really? And woman?”

  “No, not really, but I was ready to defend your honor if needed. And you are a woman, right?”

  “Yes, I most definitely am. That’s sweet; you really are my savior.”

  “Hmph.”

  “I’m really sorry. Forgive me?”

  He sighs loudly. “Just check your phone ten minutes into the date next time. I’m going to bed.”

  “Thanks, Jeremy.”

  “I’ll have my phone on if you need me.”

  “Okay, night.”

  “Text me when you get home.” Jeremy hangs up before I say anything else.

  I head back to the table, and Linc stands to pull out my chair for me. He’s doing everything right, and I’m excited to see what unfolds the rest of the night.

  Throughout dinner, we discuss our life, family, friends, and our careers. He’s made me laugh more than I have on any other d
ate, but there is no spark, no zing, and no pow. Not even when our fingers grazed when we both reached for a chip and salsa. I felt more spark with Jeremy sitting next to him in his truck than this, and that leaves me feeling slightly disappointed. Then I wonder for a second why Jeremy popped in my head while I’m on a date. Yes, he’s sweet, protective, and extremely good looking, but there is zero interest between us other than a working friendship.

  “Do you want to stay for dessert?” Linc asks me.

  I debate for a moment because I don’t want to lead him on. If I stay, I’m afraid he’ll think nightcap, and I’m not up for answering that question.

  “Jade?”

  “Yeah?” I don’t want to be the bad person and tell him I’m not interested. I didn’t even think of this when I signed up for the dating service. I was prepared for a bad date scenario, but not for one where I actually like the guy as a friend.

  “It’s fine. I think we are both having the same feelings, which is a good meal with a great person. I’m really enjoying tonight, though, either way. Please don’t make me eat the lava cake alone,” Linc says the magic word.

  “They have lava cake?” I ask.

  “Yes. With vanilla ice cream and homemade chocolate sauce on top.”

  “Why didn’t you say so in the first place?”

  We wind up staying for a nightcap—two, actually. For the life of me, I can’t figure out why no one has scooped this man up. I even told him that much, which he blew off, but then he asked me the same question. I think before giving my answer. “I’m the girl behind the lens, not the model in the photographs. I preferred it that way too. I was content being on my own, but then my friends started dating these amazing men, and I didn’t want to be alone anymore. I figured I wasn’t going to meet anyone if I didn’t put myself out there.”

  “I can relate to the friends part. For me, it’s the opposite; I’m constantly in front of the public that at the end of the day, I like to not have to be so . . . public. If that makes sense. Then I decided it’s time to put myself on a dating website—actually, my family did. They got me a three-month membership for Christmas.”