After the Storm

by Faith Andrews

  Willow? Jealous? I’m still confused. Why am I not following? “Why would Willow have any kind of opinion about you?”

  “Noah! Are you kidding?” She shakes her head, squeezing my shoulders in her small but strong hands. “She likes you, too. She was jealous when I walked in. And believe me, I know jealousy when I see it! She’s probably out there going all sorts of crazy wondering what we’re doing in here. And that’s why you need to thank me. Whatever issues the two of you are dancing around—all the reasons you think you shouldn’t be together—they’re stupid. She’s pretty, she works for you so she must be smart, and she wants you. Do something about it. Life is too fucking short.” Tori backs away, heading toward the door. The transformation that’s taken place with this woman in the last thirty minutes could make someone’s head spin a full three hundred sixty degrees—twice.

  Regardless, I’m intrigued. “And how do you know all this?”

  “Because I can read people, and I felt like I owed it to you. You’ve always been nice, I was getting ready to say goodbye and I wanted to help you in a way I couldn’t help myself. Don’t be stupid like I was. Don’t take the good ones for granted. I didn’t get to know you the way I wish I could have, but I walked in here telling you the worst and you were here for me. I still have a ton of shit to iron out, but you made me feel better just by listening. You’re a good guy, Noah Matheson. You deserve a good woman. Willow might be her or she might not, but the only way to find out is to try.”

  I walk Tori to the door, dumbfounded by all that’s happened. The pregnancy. The end of a sexual era. The stellar advice. We make a promise to keep in touch and I let her know she can call me any time she needs someone to talk to. When I wish her all the best and we part, it’s heartfelt.

  I never thought I’d say these words, but I think the two of us just got a wake-up call. I certainly did not imagine bonding with Tori this way at all, but hey, it could have been worse. I could’ve been bonding with her as the mother of my child. God, let me thank you again for allowing me to dodge that bullet. Now, can you help me figure out what the heck to do about Willow?

  Taking to heart all that Tori said, I set out to search for Willow.

  Hold up! I’m not about to jump the gun and confess anything crazy, not just yet. But if she was in fact jealous the way Tori predicted, I’d like her to know I’m not with Tori. If and when I do get the courage to ask her out, or test those waters, I want Willow to be clear about what’s rumor and truth.

  As I walk past reception and around to Willow’s office, I notice her light off and the door shut. “Hey, Angela, Willow go to lunch?” I check my watch, noticing it’s way past lunch time, but maybe she let time slip away from her and just got to feeding herself now.

  “No. She mentioned something about the post office. She should be right back. Do you need me to do something for you?” She barely looks up from clicking the keys on the computer—hard at work, the way I like it—so I thank her and walk back to my office. I make a mental note to seek Willow out before day’s end.

  But day’s end comes at almost nine o’clock for me. Right after Tori leaves, I’m called to a site and have to step out. Checking in on one job turns into confirming work on another, and a trip to the hardware store to grab supplies for yet another.

  The day flies by, like any other, except this time I’m anxious for tomorrow. I’d like to clear the air with Willow. I want to test this theory Tori has and see if maybe there is something there worth going for. It may take some stepping out of the box and relinquishing old habits, but if I take my own advice . . . I can’t dwell on the past. It’s time to figure out my future.

  Daylight comes way before I want it to. Groaning as I stretch my overworked muscles and weary bones, I toss my legs over the side of the bed and rub the sleep from my eyes. Not that there was much sleeping going on. My brain was muddled with so much shit I bet my eyes have changed from blue to brown.

  Dreams, nightmares, cold sweats—they kept me awake, forcing me to brood about the past, my present, and what I hope for in a future. Lucid visions of Willow consumed me, but unwelcome revelations about Tori and her unborn child freaked me out. Is it strange that I’m jealous about Tori’s baby—yeah, what man envies a pregnant chick? But at thirty-three I imagined I’d be married with a family already.

  There was a time when I believed I’d found the woman who could give that all to me. But she belonged to someone else, and that dream quickly faded when she went back to the life they had built together. I’m no longer a part of it—it’s been years since that was even an option—but fixating on what I’ll never have with Mia has finally made me ready to go out and get what I can have with someone else.

  Happiness. Love. Family.

  I pull on a wrinkled T-shirt and then relieve my screaming bladder, realizing how monotonous and lonely my routine is. It’s getting old—just like me—and the only person who can change that is looking at a weathered version of himself in the mirror wondering where the hell the time’s gone.

  Walking to the kitchen to pop a K-cup in the Keurig, I contemplate why I can’t shake this feeling of emptiness. I’ve gotten along fine all this time by not obsessing over the obvious. I don’t know if it’s what Tori said, the fact I came so close to being a father, or Willow and her uncanny way of infiltrating every one of my stimulated senses. That hasn’t happened in a long time. Willow’s awoken something in me that’s been dead for too long—an ache I ignored out of spite. But now—what’s so different now, you ask? Now, time is running out. I’ve spent enough of my life alone and unfulfilled, regardless of trying to convince myself it’s okay.

  It’s time for a change. And I think I should start with an amendment to the rules I made for myself regarding Willow. Keeping her at a distance—all work, no play—was a stupid thing to do, especially given the way I can’t seem to get her out of my head. Tori said Willow likes me. It sounds so juvenile, but the truth is, I’d love to find out for myself.

  I dial Blaze’s number and hope my plan doesn’t spark any ball busting from my friend. I don’t think it’s wise to go full throttle and ask Willow out on a date, but I do think spending more time together—outside of work and with our friends—might set a different tone. It might push things into motion too. All I can do is try.

  Answering after a few rings, Blaze greets me with a good-humored tone. “Morning, bro. What’s up? Please tell me I’m needed.”

  I laugh. Blaze needs to feel important. “You know you can’t come back yet. It’s too soon. You’re not even half healed. Give it more time.” The doctor still hasn’t given him a return to work date. I’m managing, but something tells me he’s not.

  “Fuck you,” he groans. I picture him flipping the bird with his “good” hand. “So, why did you call? You miss me, don’t you?”

  Of course I do. He’s my best friend. We had a great rhythm going, but fucktard screwed that all up by getting his ass kicked in a lover’s quarrel. “Yeah. I’m nothing without you,” I joke to mollify him. “In fact, I miss you so much, I’m inviting myself over tonight. Sloane and Willow too. You up for company?”

  It takes less than a nanosecond for his response. “Um, what do you think? Yes! Please! I can’t watch one more fucking episode of Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives. I’m gaining weight by osmosis and from stuffing my face with Sloane’s delicious home cooking. That woman can bake her cute little ass off. Should I ask her to make something for tonight?”

  Is it just me or do those two sound like a married couple? “No, I’m sure she’s been doing enough around there. Let’s give her a break. We’ll order take-out. I think both Willow and Sloane can use some spoiling after all they’ve done for us since you’ve been laid up.”

  Blaze chuckles. “Dude, you just said laid in the same sentence as Willow. You so want to get laid. Don’t you?”

  Incessant. He is like a relentless, bratty child—even if he’s right. But he doesn’t need to know that. “Mature. So, eight good?”

>   “Now’s good, bro. I’m bored out of my mind.”

  “Patience is a virtue, my friend. You tell Sloane. I’ll invite Willow at work. Sound good?”

  “Sounds golden, lover boy. So, this is your first official date! How cute. If I could get around I’d buy flowers and candles.”

  “Would you shut the hell up, you ass! It’s not a date.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. So, when are you going to jump that gun—this century?”

  Sipping the piping hot coffee, I shrug. “Not sure.”

  “Whoa, hold up. Not sure as in, it could happen? Holy shit, is the world coming to an end? What did I miss?”

  “Tori’s pregnant.” I blurt out.

  “What?” he shouts and then mumbles something that sounds painful under his breath. Idiot probably got more excited than his wounded body allows. “Is it yours?”

  “No!” Let’s clear that up before he falls out of his bed and breaks something else.

  “Phew, thank God. But can you tell me what the hell Tori and her bastard baby have to do with Willow?”

  Good question. As much as I wish I could explain it, it’s more a feeling that can’t be put into words. “Let’s just say . . . I’ve had a revelation.”

  Dick wastes no time with a comeback. “You have seen the light! Praise Jesus!” It comes out in an obnoxious sermon-like tone. Preacher Blaze—what a thought.

  “Okay, I have to get to work. We’ll talk more later.” I turn the shower on, trying to get off the phone so I can start my day, but Blaze’s response sucks more time down the drain.

  “I’m hanging up and texting Sloane immediately. She won’t be as elusive as you. I wonder what she’ll think about my best friend and hers getting it on.”

  “Why do you have to put it like that? I have more depth than you—it’s not always about the sex.” As the words leave my mouth, I realize I’ve said too much.

  “I don’t know what’s happened, but I am so fucking happy it has! It’s about damn time you set your sights on a woman who can actually give you something in return.”

  I roll my eyes, wishing I hadn’t said anything, but I prod further, hoping for more information. “And what would you know about it?”

  “You’d be surprised to know that I’m more abreast of the topic than you think. Sloane and I talk. Sloane and Willow talk. I may just be the middle man, but—you know what, you’re right. Let’s just talk later. Bye.” He hangs up before I can squeeze any more out of him. If curiosity hadn’t killed me before, it’s brewing something vicious now.

  “Willow, can I see you for a minute?” I use the intercom—the way I was instructed—and take a deep breath as if I’m about to ask her to senior prom.

  She approaches my office with a clipboard and a mechanical pencil. She won’t need either for this “meeting.” Little does she know I’m about to cross a line that she probably never saw coming. I wonder if she hoped I would. I wonder if she’ll like it. I wonder what kind of panties she’s wearing underneath that tight, black—

  “Can I come in?”

  Clearing my throat and snapping out of my daze, I motion for her to enter. “Of course, sorry. Can you close the door behind you?”

  She does as I ask and then takes a seat across from me. “Everything okay?” She looks tense, nervous. I hope I haven’t given her the wrong impression.

  “Everything’s fine. I was actually wondering—” I pause, building up nerve, wishing this wasn’t such a big deal. The fact it is, is a clear indicator of what this means. I want her to want to be more than my employee. I would give anything to go back to that night at Sullivan’s and redo it all. Where would we be now? Possibly on the road to happiness? Companionship? Commitment?

  Tapping on the desk with her pencil, she grabs my attention. “You’re doing it again. You sure you’re okay?”

  Fuck! I’m like a tongue tied fool. Daydreaming and musing right in front of her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t get much sleep last night.” Because of you. “As I was saying, I was wondering if you had plans tonight.”

  Willow’s cheeks blush, her fingers tighten around her pencil. “Um, no. Why?” She doesn’t make eye contact. Instead, she stares down at her knee—bare and bouncing up and down.

  “Blaze and I want to have you and Sloane over for dinner and drinks. You’ve both been so helpful and we thought it would be nice to repay you in some way.”

  She lets out a heavy sigh. The tinge of pink fades from her face, her lips pressing together in a straight line. “Oh. Um. Sure. Sounds nice.”

  It’s not exactly convincing, but it’s not a no either.

  “You sure? I don’t want to pull you away from anything you might’ve had going on. Blaze is asking Sloane, but if you want to do it another night, that’s okay too.” I ramble, unable to curb the nerves. Oh, Willow, if you knew what you do to me just by being in the same room. I haven’t been this hooked on a woman in a very long time.

  “No, really. I have no plans and I’d really like that. I’ve been meaning to get to Blaze’s to see how he’s doing, and it would be nice to hang with Sloane again. Two nights in a row will be a treat.” Relaxing in the chair, she uncrosses her legs and then crosses them again. She’s nervous too. I like it.

  I ruffle a few papers on my desk, making it seem this is still business as usual. I don’t want to jump straight to personal territory—it would seem weird, since I’ve backed off on all things private thus far. “Eight o’clock okay?”

  “Noah?” she asks, her voice soft and feathery.

  “Yup.” My dick just got hard from her whispery tone. I can’t make eye contact with her because if the expression on her face is as desperate as the ache in my pants, I might lunge across the desk and kiss her—rough and hot—the way I’ve been visualizing.

  “Why are you acting so weird?” Her question knocks me out of my reverie and sends my junk back to its regularly scheduled programming.

  “Am I? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My voice squeaks like a prepubescent boy. I guess I’m more obvious than I thought.

  Willow bites her bottom lip, suppressing a melodious giggle. “You know, you’re really cute when you’re nervous, Noah, but Sloane already called me. Something about you and Blaze and candles and flowers. I rushed her off the phone for a client, but—either way, I’m glad you asked me. I had fun at Sullivan’s that night when the four of us were together. I think it’ll be good to let loose and do something other than schedule meetings and fix your sketches.”

  “Fix? Whoa. My sketches never need fixing. Improvising, maybe, but definitely not fixing.”

  Her lips curl into a smile that makes my heart squeeze tight in my chest. Please keep doing that. It makes my blood pump sweeter, stronger, faster. “Why can’t you just admit that you need me?”

  Holy shit! Did she really just say that? I want to admit it—Willow, I need you so badly my insides might combust from the frustration of not touching you, or tasting you, or sinking so deep into you we become one soul. But I can’t say that. “Now, why would I do that? It would just give you the upper hand.”

  “Sometimes relinquishing power is quite rousing, boss. You should try it.”

  She’s killing me. She’s turned up her usual subtle flirtatiousness to blatant naughtiness. But rather than let her unravel me the way she seems to be trying, I lean closer and whisper. “Oh, I intend to, Willow. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to take care of a few things so I won’t be late for our evening of relinquishment. I’ll call for you—on the intercom—if anything comes up.”

  Willow gasps, gripping the arms of her chair. The color in her cheeks is even brighter than before. Composed, she stands to exit, smoothing an invisible wrinkle in her sexy skirt. Looking over her shoulder as she opens the door, she says, “I can tell this is going to be a lot of fun.”

  Alone again—this time with a hard-on so uncomfortable I contemplate a trip to the men’s room—I lean back in my chair with my hands perched behind my head. I don’t know
what the hell Blaze said to Sloane, but I’m fucking delighted he did. This little meeting broke the ice and gave me the green light to go ahead with operation Make Willow Mine.

  Maybe it’s the idea of giving in to a temptation I once believed I should resist. It could be the constant back and forth and on and off that Willow and I dance around whenever we’re together. But whatever it is, I’ve never wanted to claim a woman the way I want to claim Willow. Sexually. Spiritually. Emotionally. Fully.

  By seven thirty my toes are tapping of their own accord. I cannot wait around one more second without going insane.

  After work, I went straight to the gym as if running a few miles on the treadmill would show immediate results. When I got home I showered, shaved, primped, and spritzed my favorite sexy scent on all the right places. Sloane had texted me that she’d pick me up at seven thirty so we could stop at the liquor store before heading to Blaze’s. She’s now a minute late and I’m antsier than I’ve ever been.

  Anticipation swirls in my belly like Mexican jumping beans bouncing around and fist pumping. My legs are unsteady as I pace the living room, tidying up a space that doesn’t even have a piece of errant lint to dust away.

  Where the hell is she? I was ready before, but the longer she makes me wait the more I overthink.

  My conversation with Sloane at dinner last night brought a lot into perspective. I came to the realization on the lonely drive home that my best friend was right. If I don’t make myself available to Noah and if I hide my feelings, I’m only spiting myself. There’s no way to know for sure if there’s something more than physical attraction if I don’t try. Of course, knowing if he feels kind of the same way about me would really help, but from the little Sloane’s gotten out of Blaze and from the vibe I get at the office—I’m definitely not invisible to him. The fact I’m still his employee—yeah, that’s not going away. But he did go the extra yard by setting this shindig up tonight, so that has to say something.