by Rose Hudson
Because Chanin had done me a favor by keeping our meeting confidential and saying what I needed to hear, keeping me from making a huge mistake, I needed to return the favor by going to see Erin now rather than later to keep Chanin from being forced to omit information any longer. Even more importantly, I need to see Erin and lay my cards out on the table in hopes she will understand and give me a chance to treat her the way she deserves. I had seen loneliness and hurt in her, and I knew that she had been unappreciated for far too long. I want to remedy that by showing her that she is worthy of respect and desired beyond any boundaries previously set by anyone before me. I only hope she doesn’t recognize that I’m the one who isn’t worthy of her before I get the chance to do so.
Walking down the sidewalk to the entrance of GRACE, I’m suddenly aware that I haven’t formulated a plan of execution for this at all. In the past, with any other woman I approached, there was always a ‘plan’ before making my move. But that’s just it, Erin isn’t any other woman and the thought of treating my approach to her as I would any other is just wrong. No games, no gimmicks. Just you. Chanin’s words serve their purpose as I increase my step, hand landing on the doorknob of the store entrance just as determination hits. No plan, no idea how this is going to go. I just want to see her and say what I should’ve said a week ago.
I’m met with a knowing smile from the other woman that had been sitting with Chanin at the bar that night, making me wonder if word of my meeting with Chanin earlier had already trickled down the lines of communication. Anxious to plead my case before I lose my nerve, I approach her to ask where Erin is.
“Hi, umm, Mel is it? We met at the bar on Erin’s birthday,” my words stumble out, hoping I got her name right. I may not be experienced with women in social settings, but I do know that when it comes to their friends, first impressions are important. Chalk it up to my education via late night television.
“The infamous Patrick. I bet I can guess what you’re here for, and I bet it’s not Chanin’s fall line,” she winks, giggling in amusement at herself. “If you walk down that hall, her office is the last door on the left.” I nod in appreciation and follow her directions.
As I approach the office Mel had indicated was Erin’s, I see that the door is cracked and I stop just outside. Leaning close, I hear Erin singing along to the radio and my stomach clenches at the sweet sound of her voice. “It’s now or never,” I say under my breath as I raise my hand to knock on the door.
“Come in,” her tone is sweet and inviting. The expression on her face when she sees me? Not so much.
“Before you say anything, know I’m here to apologize. I won’t take up your time, but please just hear me out.” Although she slightly relaxes in her chair at my explanation, her eyes hold a look of irritated confusion.
“That’s not necessary Patrick. Our conversation was forgotten the minute my feet hit the sand. So if you’d kindly…”
“Erin, I lied to you,” I cut her off before she has the opportunity to cut me with the words I know I deserve. Her eyes bore into me like daggers as her mouth hangs open, prepared to finish her previous statement. She closes it and her eyes tightly, like maybe if she can’t see me I’m not really here. After a moment of dead silence, she rubs her eyes before opening them and looking down at her lap. I’ve heard before that the eyes are the window to the soul, and because hers held such special meaning for me, they are the first place I go whenever I look at her. My heart sinks with a finality that the words I need her to hear won’t be heard. But that feeling is quickly replaced by hope when she looks up and speaks softly.
“I know, and that’s what scares me. Why would you deny having interest in me?” No games, no gimmicks. Just you. The words repeat in my head like a mantra and I grasp at every bit of courage it provides, knowing I will need every ounce of it. I move to the chair in front of her desk and sit, exhaling slowly to calm my nerves. As a man of few words, the thought of baring myself to her, even partially, has my heart racing like a Thoroughbred.
“Because I was afraid to be honest with you or myself. I’ve never valued a woman before, Erin. And I’ve definitely never allowed myself to form an interest in any that I’ve been involved with,” saying the words out-loud forms a bad taste in my mouth. Until now, sitting before the first woman in thirty-two years to cause me to question my ways, I hadn’t ever viewed how I treated women as wrong. I hadn’t necessarily viewed them as right, just more like a temporary fix for both parties involved.
“How old are you,” her tone is of genuine curiosity, but laced with something else.
“Thirty-two.”
“When you say you’ve never formed an ‘interest’ with women you’ve been involved with, are you saying you’ve never had a long term relationship, or that you’ve never actually cared for anyone you’ve slept with?”
“Both,” I answer without hesitation, knowing that now’s not the time for excuses or bullshit. Her mouth forms a tight line as she continues looking at me questioningly. No games, no gimmicks. Just you.
“I know how that sounds, but believe me when I say I’m not proud of how I’ve done things in the past. I want you to know that regardless of what happens from here on out, this situation with you has changed all that.” At that I finally get a look of something other than disgust as she gives me a curt smile. I can tell she’s fighting with herself and struggling with what to say, so out of desperation to keep her from ending this before it ever gets started, I force myself to say the one truth I can muster.
“I know I don’t deserve it, and I know that you had your mind made to never speak to me again before I showed up here today, but all I’m asking, is for a chance to be your friend. I’m not going to lie and say that I’m capable of just being your friend, but I am saying I’ll try. If that’s what it takes to earn your trust, then I’ll be the best friend you’ve ever had.” The instant the words leave my mouth it feels like a piece of the real me falls back into place somewhere. Like the women I’ve encountered in the past, I expect her to be either dismissive or surprised by my words, but instead, she reminds me why I’ve been captivated by her from the very beginning. For a long moment, I watch as her features go from unsure to appreciative, and finally a slow smile forms, reaching her gorgeous eyes.
“Thank you, Patrick.” Okay, not the response I hoped for, but it’s better than ‘kiss my ass’.
“It’s the truth,” I tell her. A small laugh escapes her full lips. I should have known she wouldn’t go easy on me.
“What I meant to say is, thank you for proving me right about you,” she bites her lip and I begin to get nervous again, because I don’t know if that’s good or bad. “After I left your apartment last week I felt like maybe I had just imagined it, that I was losing my mind. But I held firm to the belief that the Patrick who took me home that night was real, and here you are.”
“WHY DID YOU HAVE to open your big mouth Mel,” my words come out a bit harsher than intended as I stare at her, waiting for an answer but getting only laughter in return. “Umm…Did I miss something? Because I’m pretty sure it’s me who should be going bat-shit crazy, not you!”
“Cool your pipes sister! I’m pretty sure I just did you a huge favor, I mean God bless, have you even looked at him Erin?” She stares at me in disbelief, hands steepled and pressed against her lips to keep laughter from erupting into the store and attracting the attention of the men installing the remaining track lights.
“Why is this so funny to you? Do you think it’s funny to stick your nose where it doesn’t belong?”
“What I think is funny, is you getting pissed over going on a date with probably the hottest man in this town! What do you have to be so worked up over anyway? Look at you, look at him,” she motions toward the door that Patrick’s gorgeous form had exited just minutes before. “Hell, the two of you together look like a walking Dolce & Gabbana ad,” her arm wraps around me, squeezing fervently, somehow forcing all the anxiety and fear out of my mind, helpi
ng to ease the urge I have to choke her.
When the two of us had walked to the front of the store from my office, Patrick had asked if he could take me to dinner to make-up for his douchebaggery from the other day, but of course I declined. There was just too much going on at the store in preparation for the grand opening this weekend. Not to mention, Ruth has decided to try out for next year’s seventh grade cheerleading squad and they’re having an after school training camp every day this week, so of course I will have to be there at six to pick her up. When Mel heard me decline Patrick’s offer, she piped up and said she could lock up the store and pick Ruth up from school, no problem. Shit. Without even waiting for an answer, Patrick said he would be back to pick me up at five.
Not wanting her to mistake my anxiety over this date for a lack of appreciation, I look up at her with a wide smile. “Thank you Mel.” She shoots me a sly smile as she walks toward the storefront.
“How about we save the thank yous for the end,” she turns and looks at me, a low laugh escaping as she takes in the look of confusion on my face. “You didn’t think I wasn’t going to get something out of this, did you?” She takes a silk emerald blouse off of one of the rolling racks and holds it up to me. “Here, change into this. I’ll be back to your office after I get my makeup and curling iron out of my bag.” I look at her even more confused than I had been a second ago. What’s wrong with what I’m wearing? I look down at my white button-up shirt, black slacks and black ballet flats. The look of pity she gives me makes me startle when she touches my shoulder. God…is it that bad? I mean, I know I don’t walk around looking like I just stepped off the catwalk, but I am a designer so I know at least my clothes look good.
“First, you know I love you. But I think you may have forgotten how to turn on the sexy.”
“Turn on the sexy?” She places her hand on my lower back and pushes me down the hallway like a bowling ball. I turn back and look at her and she shoos me off.
I lay the white shirt on the chair and hold up the silk blouse in front of me, sighing in defeat as I pull it over my head and button the six or so small ball shaped buttons that run up my side. When I turn and look in the mirror and see the line between my breast revealed above the v-neck cut of the blouse, I immediately slap both hands over my chest. I’m not a prude by any means, you just won’t catch me wearing revealing clothing. My breasts make it difficult to find shirts that fit, so most of the tops I wear are a tad big for me, but I don’t have time to tailor any of my clothes anymore like I did in high school. Although I haven’t been too concerned with my overall appeal since Glendon’s death, I have made it a priority to stay healthy. When I finally overcame my constant anxiety and depression, worried over Ruth’s state of mind regarding the death of her father, the weight of being her only living relative began to consume me. I changed up my diet and started working out consistently. The day I looked in the mirror and loved the size 10 in my reflection was the first time in my life that I appreciated my body. Ruth Presley once said that men wanted a little something to hold on to, and that has always stuck with me.
My grandmother had never steered me wrong, so I knew now wouldn’t be an exception. I slowly lower my hands to my side and take in my appearance again, turning to the side and smoothing the silk fabric of the blouse. The large swell of my breast under the thin material. The flow of the cut fitting perfectly in all the right places. “It’s not horribly revealing,” my voice comes out low as I encourage myself. “But it definitely shows the goods.” Although it's disconcerting to step outside of my usual wardrobe, I can’t help the bit of confidence it sparks. I do feel sexy in this, and the thought of looking sexy for Patrick makes my pulse quicken. Just the thought of his eyes on me, reflecting that same desire he had carrying me up the stairs that night. The same desire that I used as mental porn to have a mind numbing orgasm the next morning. Oh yes, that’s exactly the look I want to put on his face.
“Okay, here are some shoes and a few accessories. Where can I plug up this curling iron,” Mel’s voice breaks into the silence of my office as she bursts in carrying two arms full of stuff. Reaching out to take some of it from her, I spot a pair of black patent leather heels, a long black chain necklace with a large jewel pendant, and a bag containing more makeup than I’ve ever seen in my life. And that’s saying something considering I’ve worked in the fashion industry for five years.
“What exactly are you getting me ready for? A date or the Miss America Pageant,” I nudge her hip with mine. Her laugh is forced and sarcastic as she nudges mine in return.
“Very funny. You just sit and hush. We only have 30 minutes before he gets back.”
I can remember as a teenager watching movies and wishing that just once a guy would look at me the way the male characters looked at their female love interests. Like in ‘She’s All That’ when Laney comes down the stairs after her make over and Freddie Prince Jr’s mouth falls open. I used to rewind to that part over and over just to see the look on his face, thinking no man would ever really look at a woman that way. Little did I know just how wrong I was. Standing here frozen in place after turning to look at Patrick walk through the store entrance, the look he’s giving me puts Freddie’s to shame. A look that strips me bare as if I’m not wearing this carefully pieced together outfit Mel just picked out. A look that makes every nerve ending in my body shoot off bolts of electricity. A look that could motivate enough orgasms to last a lifetime.
“Has anyone ever told you how stunning you are,” his voice is deep and smooth when he speaks and I hear a small gasp come from Mel behind me. Like a million tiny doves take flight, my stomach flutters at his voice and my confidence falters slightly. But instead of melting into a puddle of hormone overload soup at his feet, I shift slightly and grab my clutch from the counter behind me, mouthing ‘oh my god’ to Mel before collecting myself and turning back to face him.
“Has anyone ever told you dinner comes before dessert? Those words are so rich my sweet tooth is throbbin’,” putting on my best southern belle, I fan my face with my clutch, giving him a one sided smile and holding out my hand palm down in greeting. I know if I am going to survive this night, there is no way I’m giving him the upper hand. His smile is blinding and his deep chuckle makes my knees want to buckle. I probably hold on a bit too tight when he takes my hand and kisses the top of it, but it’s either that or bust my ass and I don’t care for him having to cart me around piggyback tonight.
“Well my my, I do apologize Miss Sugarbaker,” he grins pleasingly at his reference and I giggle a little too enthusiastically. Putting on a playful, but less transparent face, I smart back.
“Actually, it's Mary Jo. Remember?” I shoot him a wink and start to inch toward the door, forcing him to follow. His laugh is deeper this time and the vibration runs from the back of my neck all the way down to my core. He places his hand on my lower back and guides me to the door. I quickly turn to my left to shoot Mel and I’m screwed glance before we exit the store. Upper hand Erin, upper hand.
The air in the cab of his truck seems so much thicker than it should. My mouth is dry and my palms are sweaty. I keep looking at him, trying to gauge his demeanor, and he continues to look fine- like none of this fazes him in the slightest. I was determined not to check my phone a hundred times, but I received an email from Vic and I just couldn’t resist. Plus, I need something to distract me from his skin, and those silver eyes, those rough man hands, his pouty mouth- God I wanna’……
“Do you like Barbeque?” His question breaks me out of the pornographic scene playing in my mind as I stare blankly at my lap. I jerk my head to him. For the first time, he isn’t wearing a hat and all I want to do is run my fingers through his smooth milk chocolaty strands. He furrows his brow and looks from me to the road.
“Sorry, what,” I choke out, feeling my chest and cheeks flush. His eyes dip to my chest and glaze over in heat before quickly return to my face, void of any emotion besides amusement.
Smiling
he says, “Barbeque? Do you like it?”
“Oh, yes! Yes, I love it!” I mentally smack myself. God Erin.
“Good,” he says through laughter, “That’s good. I figured I’d take you to Moe’s. They have great food and you look like you could use a good meal.” My brow furrows and I can’t help the insecurity that rises in my throat. Shaking his head slightly, he places a hand on my knee, amending his statement.
“I know your stores opening this weekend. I figure you haven’t been taking very good care of yourself lately and you could probably use a good meal.” I cringe internally at my lack of self-confidence, but give him a grateful smile, hoping that he doesn’t see through the cracks of my facade.
When we pull up at Moe’s I suddenly wish I was in my worn jeans instead of dress slacks. It has a very casual party feel to it and I can hear live music coming from inside and I want to jump up and down, clapping my hands in front of me like a little school girl. I hate upscale stuffy places, the places Chanin insists on going when at all possible. This is definitely my kind of scene, not that I really have a scene per say, but If I were to pick a place to go out this would definitely be one of them. With what I’m sure is a huge smile plastered on my face, I look over at Patrick, caught off guard to see his staring at me- eyes drilling me. My heart hammers at my chest so hard I can hear it in my ears. Upper hand, Erin. Calming myself as best I can, I push my long curls behind my ears.
“What is it?” I mask the intensity with a slight laugh under my words. He doesn’t speak for a long beat and I can’t help the anxiety building inside my chest. When we spoke in my office today, things were kept very light after his admission. I didn’t want to bog down the atmosphere with my usual controlling bullshit, so for once, I just went with it and tried not to ruin the possibility of at least having him as a friend. But with my eyes locked on his right now, I’m betting that whenever he does speak, it’s probably not going to be light. I chew at the edge of my lip and he releases a moan, so lightly I’m almost unsure that’s what I heard. Suddenly he lifts the center seat console and pushes it up and out of his way, sliding over to me until his body is flush to my side. I instinctively lean back against the door so that I can look up at him as he towers over me, and when I do, he leans forward until his face is only an inch from mine. The heat of his exhale and the deep smell of his cologne tortuously intoxicating. I clench my lips closed, trying to find strength somewhere, trying to hold onto the little control I had left.