Love Me Now (Encounters #4)

by Fifi Flowers

  “Movers? What happened? I thought you loved Betty’s designs. Was her food horrible? Oh God, she had to step in for the caterer. I thought she could pull it off. Or I would’ve called you and confessed. Tell me the duck was succulent and divine and the Rockfellers loved it.”

  She loved to refer to my parents with elite society names. I found that working with her I often shook my head.

  “Nothing like that, Lulu. And by the way, Betty is not Betty.”

  “Well, she’s Betty Crocker Decorator to me.”

  “Well, Betty to me is really Victoria.”

  “Yes, Victoria of St. Davine Interiors.”

  “Yes, that’s true too. But she just so happens to be Victoria as in she is Victoria from Mammoth seven years ago.” I braced myself and pulled the phone from my ear.

  “Holy fucking-bat-shit! I did even better than I thought. A pay increase… bonus maybe… Damn! I’m good! Fantastic! Amazing!”

  “All of the above, I agree. However, now we have work to do. I have to make things right. Some things immediately and others after the first of the year. So, if you have a pen handy, let’s get busy.”

  “Okay. Shoot! I’m ready… oh wait! Before we fix your love life, Stanz Mathieu called this morning asking for a pre-nup. Wanted everything the same, but asked to add a new name. Said he’d give it to me after he confirmed her legal name, but he had to be covert about it—she doesn’t know he’s popping the question yet. And knowing him, he could meet someone else before he gets around to flashing her the big diamond.”

  She laughed, but she was possibly right. He was forever falling for this one and that one. We had updated his pre-nup a few times, though he’d failed to use any of them. Something always happened before they ever made it to the altar.

  Telling her to remain on standby with that one, I filled her in briefly on last evening’s events and after she regained her composure, we set about making life-altering changes for my new family. Starting with the movers, everything was to go to Victoria’s home. Yes, technically I had to call it hers since I had yet to correct that little title detail. With Gram conferenced in, I asked that he get in touch with his real estate people. I needed to know the house’s current estimated value at that time along with all of the improvements that Victoria had made since purchasing it. I intended to give her half of that amount for my fair share, even though I really wanted to give her the full amount. Knowing her, I assumed that she would not accept the entire amount—I wasn’t sure she would go along with my contribution at all, especially since there was no mortgage on the house according to Gram’s own quick search.

  That had me thinking. I knew that Victoria had a booming business, but I didn’t realize just how great it was to allow her to buy the house outright. I put up several bids, I was well aware of just how expensive the property had been. And in the last year the housing market in that area had gone up, and with her additional high-end interior renovations and exterior enhancements, the value had to have skyrocketed. It was obvious that I was going to be paying out a pretty penny to contribute my fair share, and it was worth every dime.

  “Hey, wait a minute. I thought you lost out on that house. What’s with the new vested interest? You planning on propositioning the new owner?” Gram sounded a bit confused and he got a whole lot more so once I explained my intentions.

  “Holy shit!” His first two words.

  “That’s what I said,” Lulu, of course, had to give her input.

  From there, I told him what had happened with a few extra words thrown in from my lovely assistant who just needed to add to the drama. I had to admit, she gave both of us a laugh—her way with words was like no other. By the time I got through the details and what I wanted to do, I had Gram’s full attention. He may have an undying passion to be a pastry chef, but he was a whiz at finances and quick to tell me everything I needed to do, both if she was willing to accept my offer and if she was not. And besides the house, there was the matter of my little Cupcake. Not only did I want to be legally ruled as her father—which I could deal with—I wanted to pay back child support to Victoria starting from the time of her pregnancy on. If that was also a fund that she wished to refuse, I wanted that amount with interest put into a trust fund for Nicolette. They were my responsibility and I fully intended to make restitution one way or another regardless of Victoria’s wishes, I owed her so much.

  She told me that she was ready to go back to the lodge. We had spent a long day together that ended with too spiked coffees and hot chocolate drinks. I didn’t want to go to dinner, but I had to be with Victoria. Happy that I went, I felt better after some food and it didn’t hurt that I was able to hold her in my arms on the dance floor. But taking her back to my cabin was the best end to the day. Finally, kissing her the way I wanted to since the first time we sat on the ski lift together, and she told me why she was plotting murder. I had kissed her briefly at her door, however, the lip locking in private was much better than I had imagined. And when it led to my bed and the clothes came off, we threw all caution to the wind—never stopping to talk about sexual diseases or protection. Full speed ahead, I was deep inside her loving the tight warmth that surrounded me, pulled me, and enticed me to lose all control. No other care in the world but to feel good together, never imagining that our connection could lead to a little version of us.

  “Hey, Daddy Nick, are you listening to me?” Gram asked. No, I wasn’t.

  One last bit of business with Gram before disconnecting to move on to more important matters to be dealt with, we had our book deal to discuss. We had been collaborating for a few years after attending several business venture conferences to benefit our clients. Everyone was always looking for a way to invest their monies and with Gram dragging me along, we learned about many diverse ways of using monies to make even more monies. Our discoveries led us to put out three different self-published books: Everything You Wanted to Know about Business, but were too Afraid to Ask (long title led to shorter ones), Own It, and Make Money, Invest. According to Gram, the new thing to do was to combine books into a set, so he wanted us to revisit our original covers individually and come up with one that worked with all three books in one. He had gone ahead and started working with a designer he found through his mother who is an avid romance reader. He said with a bit of sweet talking he had Susan of Wicked Women Designs talked into coming up with some covers for us.

  Of course Lulu’s ears perked up and she roared with a little growl. “Oh! I love the name of that company!”

  Not surprised, we moved right over her comment and finished up going over the initial designs that Susan had emailed to Gram. They were damn good and that got me to thinking about Victoria and her cookbook. Could I also get Gram to talk Susan into working with my Sugar? Her book was so incredible and her photography was stunning, it was a shame to not share it with the public. Maybe that was something that I should discuss with Victoria first—God knows, I had already moved forward without consulting her on other issues. Luckily, she seemed quite in tuned and accepting of my decisions or at least she hadn’t spoken up and opposed them.

  And so, after I was done speaking with Gram, Lulu and I finished up with the details of my move. She already had so many things in motion, I realized that she must have muted our book conversation and made phone calls at the same time. Lulu was very energetic and efficient, that was for certain. Movers had been hired at a triple-overtime rate due to the holidays. Also per our request, they agreed to carefully wrap decorations so that they could simply be set up in Victoria’s house—extra people were hired for that duty. Lulu was on the move to my apartment as we spoke to let everyone in, and to orchestrate. I promised her a big bonus.

  “You’re damn right you’re going to pay me good for this extra ho-ho-ho bullshit! Not only did you have me playing Santa to begin with, now I’m the fucking-Grinch taking it all back. And not only that, but you made me officially a ski-bunny-pimp! I gave you exactly what you ask for and… Holy shit! Even m
ore, I gave you a child in the manger.”

  She was right, Lulu had gone beyond the call of duty and without even knowing that she was doing it. I will be forever thankful to her for bringing Victoria back to me, allowing me to get to know my daughter. And speaking of Cupcake, my time was up for business dealings I realized as she found me, and I just about melted on the spot.

  “There you are, Daddy. The mail man comes soon. We need to beat him to the box so he gets my letter to St Nick on time.”

  “You heard her, St Nick, get going,” I heard Lulu faintly. “I’m on elf duty, bye.”

  Depositing my phone in the front of my jeans that I had changed into while I talked business (leaving on my old NYU shirt), I was ready for my own elf duty of delivering a very important list to Santa Claus.

  “Ok, Cupcake, are we walking or do you want to ride your bike?”

  She giggled and smiled up at me with twinkling eyes.

  “Are you going to call me that all of the time?”

  “Do you not like it? I can call you Nicolette, if you prefer.”

  I could see that she was very seriously debating the option I had given her with her lips pursed and her finger to her adorable little chin, turning her head side to side toward each shoulder. Then after a little shrug and a sigh, she answered, “I think I like it. It’s okay, you can call me Cupcake. Not in front of my friends though. Let’s walk. I have a very important envelope to carry. Maybe you can give me a piggyback ride on the way back… if you know how.”

  Getting ready to leave, we both kissed Victoria good-bye and headed out the front door. Roaming down the sidewalk, Cupcake was so animated telling me about what neighbors she said hello to and about flowers and trees. At times she reminded me of Lulu, chattering on and on, but then completely off in a different direction at a moment’s notice. She was enchanting me without a doubt as she told me about Christmas stories I hadn’t thought of in years. It was like reliving my own childhood hanging out with her.

  “There’s one with a dentist and a sore tooth making the aboominal snow monster upset. Oh, and kids put a magic hat on a snowman and he comes to life. You probably know the red-nosed reindeer one (I want one), he’s famoose. And my least favorite part, a very sad island for unwanted toys… too sad, all toys need love. Have you seen Toy Story?” I nodded. “That proves it!”

  I didn’t have the heart to tell her it was all make-believe—she had plenty of time to figure all that out for herself. God, Cupcake had me missing the innocent days of my youth. She had the best explanations—so serious about everything she said—and I loved how she pronounced some words. She is the most adorable little girl ever! I never know whether to laugh or cry when I listen to her. I was overwhelmed by the many foreign emotions attacking me as we continued our Santa-letter journey.

  Reaching the mailbox with her skipping part of the way, she had me laughing the way she placed it inside, closed it and reopened it making sure it disappeared as I lifted her up. Satisfied, Cupcake instructed me how to crouch down with my back to her, then she wrapped her body around me like a little monkey and I hooked my arms under her legs and stood up. God, I love my little girl. I couldn’t imagine my life without her, and I was a bit sad thinking about all that I had missed out on while Victoria raised our child.

  Chapter Ten

  Victoria…

  Waving goodbye to Nick and Nicolette, I watched them stroll off for a few minutes before I walked back inside. It was strange to see them together, but truly fantastic in every way. Nicolette and I had talked about him over the years. I had told her all of the things that I could remember about him. Things he had told me that he liked and didn’t like, mainly general tidbits. Everything that he had told me about his life growing up in New York in the few days that we spent together. Of course, I only knew so much. There were so many things that we never got around to talking about—holes in both of our stories. But I never kept him out of our life, he was a daily topic and every night he was in our prayers at bedtime until the night before. For once we didn’t have to ask for him because he was with us.

  “I like him a lot. You know we didn’t pray for him last night. We need to teach him prayers. Wonder if he has stories to tell me. He’s fun to cook with and he makes me laugh. He needs some help in the kitchen. And he keeps calling me Cupcake.”

  Nicolette had rattled off her thoughts to me earlier as he walked away to make a phone call.

  “I’d say that he calls you that because he likes you very much.”

  “He looks better than the picture by my bed. He’s a hansoome daddy. He said he’s never going to leave us. I’m happy. Oh, my show’s on… going to watch until Daddy is ready.” Off she ran.

  She was right he is very handsome, he has aged quite well.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to be whooshing down the mountain… fresh snow?”

  “I’d rather be right here with you. You’re better than any snow, Sugar.”

  He made my heart skip a beat with his words and smile. I never mentioned him going off without me again. He had made his choice and I was more than thrilled that he had. I had expected to spend the day alone, curled up with a romance novel—picturing him as the lead character and, of course, I would be his leading lady. Instead, he charmed me with stories of his boyhood growing up in Manhattan and then going off to an all-boy boarding school. His parents wanted a better life for him, more importantly an outstanding education. I had the total opposite in my life with my free-spirited parents. Yes, they wanted me to be educated, but they felt that life lessons were more important. And they definitely would’ve never dreamed of sending me off, as it was, I had to fight to go to school outside of our house. Worlds and distances apart, we found that we also had a lot of things in common, food being one of them.

  “I noticed you didn’t have a bran muffin and fruit.”

  “No!” I laughed. “French toast, it’s a favorite although I rarely eat it as it tends to go to places that I don’t need to add volume.” My hand automatically patted my thigh.

  “I say your body looks just fine to me.”

  “That’s because I don’t indulge all of the time. But this morning I saw another person getting them and they reminded me of a family friend coming to visit. She arrived with a big fancy shopping bag and sticking out of the top was a loaf of bread. I was excited to try it—I love bread—but it was not brought out during dinner, I was so disappointed. Up early the next morning watching cartoons, I heard noise in the kitchen and went to investigate. There was Bertie with her marketing bag and out of it came brown eggs fresh from a hen, a packet of butter, a small bottle of vanilla, cinnamon-nutmeg sugar, and her special loaf. My mouth watered as I watched her combined the eggs, vanilla, and the sugar mixture into a large mixing bowl and whisked in heavy cream. Then she poured it into a shallow pie plate that she used to dip the thickly sliced bread in, allowing it to soak up the mixture on both sides. Satisfied with each coated piece, she fried it on a flat griddle—greased with so much delicious butter—until each side had turned a lovely golden brown. The smell was so amazing.”

  I stopped, closed my eyes, and licked my lips. Opening them, I saw Nick, my captive audience of one, swallow hard and continued, I hadn’t gotten to the best part.

  “Once she had finished cooking the entire loaf, she put them into the oven and told me to go get my parents while she made coffee. I ran like a shot, telling them to get up quickly that Bertie was making… they cut me off, ‘magical toast,’ they said in unison and hurried out of bed. Back in the kitchen, sitting around the breakfast nook table, she served up the French toast (I had never heard of it before) with sweet, creamy butter that had a cream cheese quality about it and drizzled warm boysenberry syrup over them. They tasted like pure heaven—the perfect crunchy bread, soft in the middle and salty, sweet, tart combination. Yum!” I had to rub my tummy and lick my lips, all over again.

  “You cannot do that!” I looked at him surprised as he growled. “You can’t lick you
r lips and moan like that. And rubbing your hands all over your delicious body, that is just wrong on so many levels.”

  I sat stunned, realizing that I was making suggestive movements along with sounds that could definitely be used in the heat of the moment. A nervous giggle almost escaped from my lips as I watched Nick fidgeting around in his chair.

  Trying to quiet my own body that was instantly tingling at the thought of us engaged in extra-curricular activities, I spoke innocently about my food selection.

  “So that’s why I had French toast today, a treat! Not as good as Bertie’s.”

  “I had the French toast too,” he announced quietly, almost painfully, before looking down at his expensive, sports-watch. “Speaking of food, let’s get a menu.”

  He seemed to be trying to focus on something else, changing the subject, moving away from his own sexual innuendos that I had not meant to incite. Seeing his visual discomfort, I covered my mouth to hide my grin as he gestured for menus.

  Perusing the items, we found that we liked a lot of the same things, we even attempted to order the same thing for lunch, two grilled cheese sandwiches. However, we decided to order one cheesy goodness along with a roast beef dip sandwich and lots of fries to share. It was amazingly tasty, but I nearly couldn’t finish my food when Nick insisted on feeding me. Looking into his brilliant blue eyes, my heart thumped loudly in my ears as I opened my mouth and bit every French fry, quietly moaning a few times. I wasn’t the only one affected; after licking my lips a few times, I noticed him trying to casually adjust his pants. I’m pretty sure that our intimate dining is what led to our decision to partake in alcoholic beverages for the rest of the afternoon. They seemed to take the edge off as well as attributing to fits of laughter.

  When our day alone together came to an end—I was terribly saddened—I didn’t want him to leave me.