False Security

by Evan Grace

“You’re such a charmer. Hey, I wanted to talk to you. Do you have a second?”

  I lean against the counter and give her a flirtatious smile. “Are you finally leaving that husband of yours for me?”

  “Haha, no, but I was wondering if I could set you up on a blind date. She’s amazing, and just your type.”

  Carrie is the office matchmaker…or at least tries to be. “Big hair, big tits, and a small waist?” I ask.

  She shakes her head and smiles. “You’re terrible. She’s perfect for you. I know Gretchen is coming to see you this week, so I told her maybe next week. Does that work?”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, set it up.” I hear her excited squeal while I head into the back, shaking my head. That girl is a nut.

  “Oh, wait!” she calls out to me. I pause without turning around, my eyebrows raised. “She had only one tiny condition—she gets to pick the place, and you’ll meet her there. I’ll let you know what she decides, okay?”

  I roll my eyes and grunt as I continue walking. In my office, I pull up the case I just finished earlier in the week. I fill out my billable hours and put everything into an email that I send to our office manager, Delilah, so she can send out an invoice to the client.

  Delilah is the only other woman that works here. She’s Jack’s daughter, and she’s pregnant too. When I met her, she’d appeared really young and I thought he’d just given her the job because she’s his kid. But it became obvious right away that she’s the one who really runs things around here. She’s respected by all the guys on our team.

  By the time I’m ready to head home, I’m beat. I had two meetings with potential clients, and it’s usually the same bullshit: following spouses that were possibly cheating or idiots stealing from their employers and not covering their tracks very well. Every now and then I’ll help our bounty hunter track down a skip. I don’t have a family waiting for me at home, so I can always leave town whenever I’m needed.

  Don’t get me wrong—I’m not lonely or unhappy with my life or the choices I’ve made. If I want female companionship for the night, I have no trouble finding a lady—or ladies—to oblige me. What can I say? I’m irresistible. The ladies love me…well, and the huge dick in my pants.

  ***

  My sister carries the popcorn bowl into the living room and sits on one end of the couch while I sit on the other. She’s been here since the day before, and we’ve already hit most of her favorites: The Cheesecake Factory (Lord help me), Navy Pier (Fuck my life), and her favorite candy store, Windy City Sweets. (At least the hot girl was working so I had some eye candy.)

  We just got done eating a pizza and now we’re watching a movie. “I’m going to have to increase my workouts as soon as you’re gone,” I mumble. “How can such a tiny little thing eat so much?” She looks a lot younger than she is; she’s petite in stature, but all arms and legs.

  I always used to call her “Tinkerbell.” Her hair is a sort-of-rose-gold shade of blonde, and we’ve got the same blue eyes. That’s where the similarities end, though. Like I said she’s tiny, and I’m six-foot-six with muscles for days. Her skin is pale like porcelain, and my skin has a light olive tone to it.

  It was in high school while playing football that I got the nickname “The Viking.” I was the biggest and one of the fastest defensive linemen in our division. No one could get past me. I could’ve gone pro, but my senior year I met with a recruiter from the Marines, and that was all she wrote.

  “What’s this movie called again?” I ask as I settle deeper into the couch, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

  “My Girl. I’ve never seen it, but Mom said it’s amazing.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.” I signal to the remote with a nod of my head. “Let’s get it started.”

  A while later, I look over at my sister, who’s sobbing uncontrollably into her blanket. The little blond kid from Home Alone just died. It would’ve been nice if Mom warned Gretch, but no…now I’m dealing with an overly emotional teenager.

  “I-I ca-can’t be-believe he’s dead!” Gretchen wails, and the next thing I know, she’s curled up next to me, crying into my shirt.

  I have to shut the movie off after the funeral scene because I can’t hear what the fuck is happening. When Mom comes to get her tomorrow, we’re having words. I swear the woman does this shit on purpose. She and my step-dad know my one true weakness is my baby sister. I’d do pretty much anything for her—even sitting through this cryfest she’s having.

  I can hear my bottle of Patrón calling my name from the kitchen, and right now I could drink the whole thing and be completely okay with it. It doesn’t take long before Gretchen is passed out, curled up next to me. She’s got a room here, so I carry her to bed. I grab my phone and my mom answers on the second ring.

  “Hey, honey. How’s it going?”

  I sigh heavily into the phone. “Thank you so much for recommending My Girl. Your daughter bawled her eyes out, and then passed out—due to emotional exhaustion is my guess.” My mom never buys the disgruntled act when it comes to Gretchen.

  “Oh, stop. It’s a great movie. She wanted to bring Pitch Perfect, but I knew you’d kill me if I let that happen.” They all know about my aversion to any and every musical. I’ll suffer through one if I have to, but I may bitch and moan the whole time.

  I laugh into the phone. “Probably. How come you didn’t come with Tad to drop Gretch off yesterday?”

  “I had a doctor’s appointment.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Sweetheart, I’m fine—it’s just my yearly physical that I keep cancelling and rescheduling. Your sister keeps me young.”

  I chuckle, shaking my head. “I’m sure. I’m also sure she’s going to make me have gray hair. I can feel it.”

  My mom gets quiet for a second, and then her soft voice comes through the line. “You remind me so much of your father, especially your laugh.” She loves Tad, but I know a part of her will always love my dad. “Okay…anyhoo, have fun with your sister, and we’ll see you tomorrow night.”

  “I love you, Mom.”

  We hang up, and I check the door then the windows. Yeah, I live in a secure apartment building, but you can never be too careful. I peek in on my sister and see she’s still passed out. I bend down and kiss the top of her head.

  In my room, I slip out of my jeans and throw on a pair of basketball shorts. Normally I sleep in the nude, but not when my sister’s here. After crawling into bed, I stare up at the ceiling. Why did I let Carrie set me up on a blind date? She’d sent me a text earlier with her name—Shayla, but that’s all I know. Plus this chick is telling Carrie where and when we should meet? What the fuck? The bitch sounds high maintenance as hell already. I let out a sigh before drifting off to sleep.

  ***

  While I sit in the back of the Uber that’s taking me to the restaurant to meet my blind date, my mind is swarming with everything that went down this past week. It started out well enough, with Mom and Tad coming to get Gretchen Sunday night and us going out for pizza as a family. But Mom was in her “why aren’t you dating?” mode, which is always followed by, “When are you going to get married and give me grandchildren?” Fuck me, I’ve never really wanted that. I enjoy the casual flings: no expectations, no promises…easy peasy. Emphasis on the easy.

  Usually Tad comes to my rescue, reminding my mom that when they met he’d never been married. Out in the parking lot after dinner, I carried my giggling sister over my shoulder to their car. I promised Gretchen we’d talk soon and planned for her to come stay with me again.

  As far as work goes, the new guy, Reece, started this week. We hit it off pretty quickly while I gave him a tour of the city, and then to make things even better, I found out he drives a badass Shelby. My 1970 Impala is in the garage across the street from my apartment—I pay a hefty price to keep it there, but at least I know it’s safe. I’ve already invited him over to come take a look at it.

  But then shit hit the fan when Delil
ah was attacked outside of her apartment. Luckily her roommate scared the guy off, but she still ended up in the hospital. She and her unborn son are okay, thankfully. To make the clusterfuck even worse, though, we found out that Reece is the father of the baby. Apparently when he came to town to talk to Jack six months ago, he’d hooked up with Delilah without having any clue who she was. They hadn’t seen each other since…well, that is until he showed up for his first day. I’m honestly surprised Jack didn’t kill him—they must be even closer than I’d guessed.

  Now Del’s staying with Reece in Oak Park while we try to figure out who hurt her and why. Our whole team has been on edge about it. Delilah is our office’s baby sister, and we’ve all given Jack our word that we won’t stop until we find the motherfucker who touched her.

  I blow out a deep breath to calm my nerves—just thinking about the dark bruises on Del’s face makes me want to punch someone, and that’s no mood to start a date in. Earlier I’d picked out my royal blue chambray shirt, the sleeves rolled up to my forearms; a pair of black slacks; and the one pair of dress shoes I own. I keep my blond hair buzzed close to my scalp, so I didn’t have to do anything to it.

  Once the driver drops me off, I head inside the restaurant, called Starlight. I glance around; I have no idea who I’m looking for. Carrie said that Shayla would know who I was. But why is it such a fucking secret? I kind of have a bad feeling about this, and why wouldn’t I? I know her name, and that she’s supposedly my type—that’s it.

  The hostess walks up in the tiniest black dress I’ve ever seen, and my dick immediately likes what he sees. “Hi, welcome to Starlight. Table for one?” She licks her glossy red lips in what is clearly an invitation. Hmmm…maybe if this date is a bust, she and I can hook up.

  “No, darlin’, I’m waiting for someone.” She gives a fake pout and goes to greet the next customers.

  “Erik?” The sultriest voice I’ve ever heard rises from behind me. After I turn slowly around, my eyes widen. The sexy voice belongs to a woman who is not my type at all. She’s shorter than the women I tend to go for—a lot shorter. And I like blondes, but she’s a dark brunette with dark-brown eyes. The red dress she wears hugs her curves—I usually like my women a bit thinner too. I know that makes me sound like a dick, but I can’t help who I’m attracted to.

  Her light-olive skin tone pops in that dress, and her tits are practically spilling out of the top. They look real too. “Um…hello? My face is up here.” I look up and she’s glaring at me; huh, she’s kind of hot when she’s pissed. Under her breath, I hear her whisper, “This was a bad idea.”

  “Sorry. I’m Erik—you must be Shayla.” I hold out my hand, and she reluctantly takes it. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Yeah, you too.” Fuck, her voice is sexy.

  The hot hostess leads us to an intimate table in the back. I pull Shayla’s chair out for her and push it in for her once she sits. Our hostess hands us our menus and tells us the specials. Yes, my eyes follow her as she walks away from the table. What can I say…it’s a bad habit.

  “Are you serious?” Shayla snaps. I can tell she’s pissed—her cheeks are turning red.

  I grimace and clear my throat. “Shit, I’m sorry. So, uh…how do you know Carrie?”

  She doesn’t look up from her menu. “We met at the Starbucks by my job. There wasn’t a place to sit and no one would give up their seat, so I slid over and shared the love seat with her. When we started talking, we just really clicked.”

  “Carrie’s a sweetheart, and her husband is a great dude.” Shayla, again, doesn’t look up from her menu—she just nods her head.

  Our waitress comes to our table, and I don’t miss the “come fuck me” eyes she’s giving me. I ignore her, but when I look at Shayla she’s glaring at our waitress, who’s oblivious. Why is her irritation making my cock twitch?

  Shayla slaps her menu down on the table. “Miss, I hate to interrupt you while you eye-fuck my date, but I’d like to order my meal. Is that okay with you?”

  I cough to cover up my laugh, which just pisses Shayla off more, and our waitress’s face is beet red. We both order, and the woman hightails it away from our table.

  Shayla plays with her napkin, and without thinking, I reach out and grab her hand. “Listen, tonight hasn’t started right. Let’s do this again. I’m Erik, and you’re Shayla.”

  She studies me for a long time, and then, thankfully, nods her head. “Starting over sounds great. Are you from Chicago?” She takes a sip of her wine.

  “No, I’m from Kenosha. My mom, step-dad, and baby sister live there, and I lived there for a short time after I left the Marine Corps. What about you?”

  Shayla rubs her arms like she’s cold. “I’m from Madison. I moved here two years ago. How old is your sister?”

  “Gretchen’s fourteen and spoiled, but she’s not a brat. I try to have her stay with me at least one weekend a month so we can hang out. This weekend we watched My Girl and she cried herself to sleep.” I shake my head remembering the way she sobbed…and sobbed.

  Shayla gives me a knowing smile. “That is a tearjerker for sure. What made you choose that?”

  “My mom suggested it. I know she did it on purpose.”

  Our waitress interrupts us to drop our food off, hightailing it away from our table like her ass is on fire. Conversation is stalled while we eat. The girl moans around each bite of her steak, and my eyes keep going to her lips. I can picture them wrapped around my dick.

  “What do you do?” I ask her while cutting into my T-bone.

  “Umm…I’m a temp right now. Not the most glamorous of jobs, but I always get asked to go back to the same places, which is great, and hopefully I’ll bide my time and get offered to work one of those places full time.” She takes another sip of her wine. “You mentioned your mom and step-dad, but what about your dad?”

  That familiar pain hits my chest. Don’t get me wrong, I know it was a long time ago, and I still have a lot of amazing memories of my dad, but I miss him every day. I clear the frog in my throat. “He was murdered when I was a boy.”

  She surprises me by reaching out and grabbing my hand. “Oh God, what happened? Of course I completely understand if you don’t want to talk about it.”

  I squeeze her hand. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.” I don’t let go of her while I grab my water with my free hand and take a sip. “It was a carjacking. The kid was young and messed up. My mom forgave him a long time ago, and then he became an assistant pastor. He got hired by my step-dad, and that’s how Tad and my mom met. I miss my dad every day, but if I hadn’t lost my dad, then Mom wouldn’t have met Tad, and then we wouldn’t have Gretchen.”

  Where the fuck did that all come from?

  “That’s really amazing that you both were able to forgive that man.”

  I shrug. “I didn’t forgive him for a long time. When I was thirteen, I was a really angry kid. I actually went after him one Sunday after church. He let me hit him a few times, too, before my step-dad pulled me off. Tad counseled us together for a while, and after getting to know him, I was able to forgive him. It doesn’t mean we’re friends, but I don’t want to kick his ass anymore.”

  The mood needs a serious lift. “Anyway. Tell me why you’re still single, gorgeous.” I give her my trademark cocky grin, which has melted many a pair of panties off of willing females.

  She rolls her eyes and drains her glass of wine in one swallow. “Way to ruin a nice moment.” Shayla leans forward, and my eyes immediately go to her breasts. “Seriously, dickhead, my eyes are up here.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Does that smile really work?”

  I stroke the back of her hand with my thumb. She tries to pull it from my grasp, but I hold firm. “It sure does.”

  Shayla studies me some more, and I don’t like it. It’s like she can read me and the pain that lives inside me. I hold her stare because I’m not going to let her see it. I’ve never let anyone other than family see it. And by family, I mean my mom,
step-dad, and my dad’s parents.

  I pay the check, and while we’re waiting for the waitress to bring my receipt, I get her to agree to go see a movie with me. We decide on the newest Will Ferrell comedy. The waitress brings my receipt to sign, and when I open the little holder, her number is scribbled on a scrap of paper right on top. Before I can grab it, Shayla does, and she waits for the waitress to look our way before making a show of crumpling it up and throwing it in her water glass.

  This girl is something else, but why does it turn me on? I get up from my chair and walk around to pull hers out for her—my mom would kick my ass if I didn’t do that for a date. With my hand to the small of her back, I lead Shayla out of the restaurant. The theater is a block over, so we decide to walk.

  Chapter Three

  Shayla

  My heart races as we step out into the warm night. I’ve never seen a more beautiful specimen of a man. I’m five-foot-seven, but next to him I look and feel like a shrimp. His blond hair is clipped short, and it makes his ice-blue eyes stand out. He’s a huge guy, like height-wise. He’s muscular, but they don’t look unnatural. You can just tell he takes really good care of his body.

  I don’t know what’s come over me tonight, but the waitress hitting on him in front of me really set me off. Who does that? Yeah, I know I’m plain and a little on the heavier side—or so my ex always told me. On a good day I’m a size ten, but on a bad, a size twelve. But Erik checking her out right in front of me was even worse.

  He may be hot, but he’s kind of an ass. Who checks out other women when they’re on a date? Apparently this guy does. Still…I know it’s slutty of me, but this guy is huge, so I bet his dick is huge too. I haven’t had sex in two years, and this could be my only chance for a while, so I can overlook him being an asshole just this once.

  I bet he’s good in bed, and I’m sure he’s a “wham, bam, thank you ma’am” kind of guy, which is perfect for me. I don’t have time to date, nor do I want the trouble. I certainly don’t need someone who’s probably a cheating scumbag in my life.