by Nella Tyler
The problem was that Natalie was everything I wanted in a woman: smart, talented, put-together, funny, independent. She was gorgeous, too, and so charming even when she was correcting me or giving me criticism that it was impossible not to listen to her after a certain point, even if I’d acted like a jerk the first couple of dates we went on together. I couldn’t imagine anyone that the matchmaking service could set me up with would be any better than Natalie herself—but that wasn’t the point. I wasn’t supposed to be getting feelings for my dating coach. I was supposed to be learning from her before moving on to date someone else.
When is Pete going to get here anyway? I glanced at the time; there was another fifteen minutes or so to go before Pete—Peter Angelosi, a long-time partner with the company I worked for—came in for the meeting I’d set. We were supposed to be discussing charity events for the companies he represented, and I’d looked over the information that he’d sent me the week before, but I didn’t have any of it in my brain anymore—everything in my head was Natalie. That was a definite problem.
I pulled up the email he’d sent me with the reports about the different companies and the assets they were willing to invest in their pet charities and skimmed it; Pete and I would go over the details over the meeting anyway, and I just wanted to have enough fresh in my mind to not have to check the email every few minutes to remind myself. I skimmed it again just to make sure that I could at least remember which companies it was and which charities they wanted to work with, while I waited for Pete to arrive.
My phone buzzed on my desk and I picked it up, barely glancing at it as I tapped answer before bringing it to my ear. “Baxter speaking,” I said quickly.
“Mr. Baxter, good afternoon.” For a second the voice on the other end of the line confused me—feminine and upbeat as it was. I’d been vaguely expecting Pete, Trevor, or someone to be calling me about business matters; instead, it was Katie from the agency—Natalie’s boss.
“How’s it going, Katie?” I sat back in my chair and glanced at the time again; I had another ten minutes before Pete should arrive and I didn’t think the conversation with the matchmaking representative would take even that long. Unless Natalie filed a complaint about you for buying her expensive gifts and then getting her to kiss you, I thought, feeling more than a little guilty. I had thought the date would be a good idea, and I was still confident that Natalie had enjoyed herself in spite of herself, but she’d left flustered.
“Very well, thanks. How about yourself?” I answered that I was doing fine, waiting for an associate to arrive for a meeting. “I will keep the call short then; I don’t want to take up too much of your time, but I thought you’d want the news as soon as possible.”
“News? That sounds promising,” I said. I heard Katie laugh on the other end of the line.
“As I’m sure you’re aware, while you’ve been working with Natalie Leathers, your dating coach, she’s been reporting back to me about your progress.” My heart skipped in my chest and my mind turned once more to the notion that Natalie might have tattled on me.
“I hope I’ve been getting good reports,” I said carefully. “I’ve been listening to her advice as best as I can.”
“You’ve been getting very good reports,” she reassured me. “In fact, based on the most recent meeting I had with Natalie, I think you’re just about ready to start having homework dates.”
“Homework dates?” I shook my head, rolling my eyes at the idea. “What does that mean?”
“I’d like you to start asking women out that you meet just anywhere—at the bar, or wherever you hang out,” she explained. “We’re still working towards getting you matched with some compatible women in our directory, but Natalie and I agreed that it’s time you start taking the training wheels off and working on your skills with some people who aren’t coaches.”
“That’s great news,” I said, grinning to myself. “Glad to hear I’ve made good progress.”
“According to what Natalie’s told me, you’ve made excellent progress,” she said. “So whenever you want—as soon or as late as you feel like it—go ahead and start asking some local women out for casual dates and we’ll circle back to how you’re doing.”
“Do I still go on my practice dates with Natalie?”
“Oh—yes, that is still happening,” Katie explained. “You do still have skills to work on, and of course, she can steer you in the right direction and give you feedback on your homework dates with other women.”
“Sounds good,” I told her. I actually had to struggle—a bit—to keep the excitement out of my voice, to keep sounding calm and collected. “I’ll definitely follow up on that this afternoon. Thanks for the good news, Katie!”
“Always happy to get someone moving along towards their happily ever after,” she told me. “Unless you’ve got any more questions on the subject, I think we’re done. I don’t want to make you late for your meeting.”
“I think I’m covered,” I said. “Thanks again.” I ended the call and set my phone down in one of the drawers of my desk; I didn’t want to have it distracting me during the meeting with Pete. The fact that I could—finally—start dating people again, people who were actually interested in me, people who I might even have some kind of future with, was thrilling. I thought about Natalie: how sweet, and kind, and funny, and beautiful she was. I had known from the beginning that there was nothing between us and there couldn’t be. We had a professional relationship; no matter the fact that I had convinced her to kiss me twice, I knew that she would never let it get any farther than that and probably regretted letting it even get that far. It would be better by far to find someone who I had a shot at actually being with in a personal, romantic relationship, instead of letting thoughts of Natalie consume me.
I decided that I’d take advantage of my clearance to date as soon as possible—that afternoon, in fact. I’d find a woman who I thought might be interested in me, at least a little, and ask her out. That would put Natalie out of my mind in every sense except the professional. I’d be able to focus again, which had been a problem for me ever since we’d started going on the practice outings and especially since the first time we’d kissed. As soon as I came to that conclusion, there was a knock at my office door and Trevor’s head popped into the room. “Mr. Baxter, Pete Angelosi is here to see you.”
“Send him on in,” I told my assistant, sitting up in my chair and pulling up the email that Pete had sent me the week before just to keep it handy. I wanted to get the meeting over with as quickly as possible so that I could get out and find someone to ask on a date.
Chapter Seventeen
Natalie
When Katie told me that she was going to give Zeke the clearance to start asking women out on his own, I’d figured that he was going to at least make the attempt to pull back on our sessions and that I’d have to remind him that we were still supposed to be having our practice dates; I had actually kind of hoped that that would be the case, since I was still shaken up from how good kissing him had felt at the end of our most recent date.
Instead, he’d called me a few nights before we were scheduled to meet again and told me that he thought—given his age and the things we’d discussed at the mall—that it would be good to have another practice date with Brady accompanying us, if I was okay with that idea. “I need to get used to being around kids,” Zeke had told me. “A lot of the women I’m going to be dating are—I assume—going to have kids, or want kids, and I want to be as prepared as possible for dealing with dating moms.”
So instead of him planning a date for us, I suggested that I would put everything together and tell him where to meet with us. Mini-golf had been fun for Brady, but if I was going to be bringing him with me, I wanted to be on something like neutral territory—somewhere I knew my son was comfortable and where I knew he’d have the least reason to act out. A picnic at the park was the obvious choice.
The night before the date, I sent Zeke a text message to let
him know when and where to meet us. It was a weekend, so I was fairly certain that he’d have at least mostly an open schedule. We’re going to be going to the park. It’s Brady’s favorite place other than the zoo, so I figured that’d be a good place to interact with him. Meet us there at one? I half-expected Zeke to come up with an excuse or to try and offer an alternative to make the date more exciting, but I would be firm if he tried to wriggle out of it, I told myself.
Instead, he seemed to be completely on board. One is great for me! Should I bring anything? I looked around my kitchen, where I’d already started to assemble the components that I was going to make into a picnic lunch.
I’ve got it all covered, for once, I texted back to him. Just come in comfortable clothes and be ready to chase down a three-year-old with me if you have to.
The morning of the date, I was surprised at how nervous I felt. I left Brady to play with his toys in his pajamas while I put the finishing touches on everything I wanted to take with us. I’d fried up some chicken the night before, since I knew from experience that leftover fried chicken made for an excellent picnic meal. I also set up some cold brew coffee in the fridge, which I strained into a thermos to drink throughout the afternoon. To keep Brady occupied, I had plenty of different treats—cheese cubes, mini cupcakes, grapes that would serve both for his own snacking needs and his desire to feed the ducks, and some graham crackers with peanut butter. For Zeke and myself I tucked a small bottle of wine into the basket, along with a vegetable salad I’d made the night before.
Finally, when it was time to head over to the park, I rounded up my son and got him dressed in jeans, a tee shirt, and a hat to keep the sun off of his face, and dressed myself in a comfortable pair of soft fabric pants and a blouse and some sandals. “I’ve got a big surprise for you when we get to the park,” I told Brady as we loaded up the car together. I strapped him into his car seat carefully and grinned to myself, anticipating not just my son’s surprise, but also Zeke’s surprise, when he found out one of the orders of the day that I had in mind.
I’d bought three water guns. They weren’t the super soaker kind, but they were enough for a little bit of fooling around at the park between the three of us and easy enough for Brady to be able to use without stressing. It was setting up to be a hot day, and I knew we’d all enjoy the relief of spraying each other with a little water. I’d packed a few extra bottles of water just for the purposes of the guns. Between that, the ducks, and the playground next to the picnic area, I figured that Brady would have enough to do that Zeke wouldn’t have to worry too much about entertaining my son and could relax as much as I planned to.
I hoped that Zeke would be punctual as he always seemed to be. We got to the park and I hauled the picnic basket and the blanket—as well as the bag holding a change of clothes for Brady, along with the water guns and the water to fill them—out of the car and carried it with me to the entrance. It was slow going; Brady of course was a perfectly competent walker, but I didn’t want to risk letting go of his hand in the crowd around the front of the park or have him get distracted and run into the street. So my hands were most definitely full while I wanted for Zeke to arrive.
With five minutes to spare, I spotted the tall, good-looking man approaching the entrance to the park, and I couldn’t help but smile to myself at the sight of him. The first thing I noticed was that he was actually in a regular pair of jeans and a tee shirt, along with some sneakers—and that he made the simple, casual outfit look better than it had any right to. The second thing I noticed was that in spite of the fact that I’d told him the night before that I had everything covered, his hands were full: in one hand, he had a gift bag from one of the biggest toy stores in the city, and in the other, he had a bouquet of bright red and orange tulips.
“Zeke! I told you I had everything taken care of,” I said, shaking my head even as he extended the flowers towards me. Brady started to hide behind my legs just as he had at the mini-golf date, but then he realized that he recognized Zeke and stepped out in front of me instead.
“Hey, Brady,” Zeke said, giving me a quick look as he knelt down on the ground in front of my son. “I got this for you on my way over here. I hope you like race cars?” He handed Brady the gift bag and I suppressed the urge to groan; I felt weird about the fact that I’d let Zeke buy me a few things for my son in our previous date together and he’d only made it that little bit worse by bringing a gift for my son. At least, if he’s going to bring the boy something, it’s good that he brought something Brady would like, I thought ruefully, as my three-year-old son ripped the tissue paper out of the bag and threw it onto the ground in his haste to get at the present. It was one of the nicer toy race cars I’d seen—shiny, with big bold text on the package that said that it made all kinds of noises and could be “upgraded” with additional accessory parts.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I told Zeke as he stood up from his crouched position. He shrugged.
“I remembered you mentioned Brady liking race cars, and I saw it somewhere and thought it’d be nice for him to have it,” he said matter-of-factly. “Just like I thought it would be nice for you to have these.” He extended the tulips toward me again and I waved at the basket and bag at my feet.
“I don’t have enough hands,” I told him tartly. Secretly, I was almost equally thrilled, charmed, and appalled at the gesture Zeke had made. I was touched that he had remembered my preferences, even weeks later; I was charmed that he had thought of a gift that would almost certainly keep Brady occupied even if nothing else in the park would. I was appalled that he was buying more things for me—and for Brady—after our most recent date. Get to the end of the date, and then have a discussion about boundaries with him, I told myself firmly. There was no sense in derailing anything right then—not when Brady was there to witness any possible temper that could erupt.
“You’re right,” Zeke said blandly. “The bouquet is too big; I should have thought of that. Two hands aren’t going to be enough to hold it.” I frowned at that comment, confused; but before I could ask what he meant, he leaned down and collected the handles for both the basket and the bag, hefting them together and extending the flowers to me with his free hand once more. Brady was practically dancing with impatience to get into the park and find the ducks to show them his new toy car, so instead of arguing, I accepted the flowers and shook my head to let Zeke know that I wasn’t fooled by his strategy.
I led the way into the park, keeping a sharp eye on my son as we walked to the picnic area. I knew that in some respects, it would be more practical to snag one of the tables that were set aside for the park’s patrons, but Brady would climb all over the table and I didn’t want to stress out over keeping him from hurting himself, so I grabbed the blanket and spread it on the grass, a little distance away from the pond where the ducks were swimming.
I was worried that Zeke would be bored, but right away, he was on the ground with Brady, showing him all of the new toy car’s features, and when Brady suggested that they feed the ducks—by excitedly pointing to the flock and calling out the silly names he’d given them, before turning to me and asking for “duckie food,” Zeke was 100% on board with the idea and fished a quarter out of his pocket to get a handful of the pellet feed that the park kept topped off in dispensers near the pond to go with the halved grapes I’d set aside.
“The ducks are going to have quite a feast,” I said with a laugh as Brady led the way towards the pond. “Watch out, little man. We don’t want you falling in that dirty pond.” I watched as Zeke and my son distributed the food to the ducks, smiling to myself; Zeke had said that he felt awkward around kids, but with Brady, he seemed to be right at ease.
I broke out the picnic food after Brady had satisfied his curiosity about the ducks, and Zeke even managed to keep him engaged throughout the late lunch, asking about his babysitters, about the toys he had at home, about the ducks’ names. I let Brady wander over to the playground after that and Zeke immediately m
oved to help me put everything away and clear up; he might not have had the idea for the date, but he seemed to be committed to making it work.
“You’re really enjoying yourself,” I observed as we stood near the playground, watching Brady brave the jungle gym.
“It’s a great day out, the food was excellent, the kids are entertaining; what’s not to enjoy?” I grinned to myself, remembering the water guns. I hoped that Zeke would be on board with my plan for the later part of the date—but I couldn’t be sure until Brady came up, hot and sweaty, and asked for his drink.
“I’ve got something better,” I told my little boy. I led him back over to the picnic blanket and broke out the water guns. I looked at Zeke to see his eyes were gleaming with amusement. “You in, Zeke?”
“You are going to get so soaked. Isn’t she, Brady?” I had to explain to my son what the water guns were, but as soon as they were all loaded up, and I fired off a squirt at Zeke to start everything off, the battle waged on. Brady toddled around us, spraying indiscriminately, and Zeke alternated between focusing on me and playfully defending himself from my son. We all alternated focus: sometimes I was getting squirted from both my son and Zeke, sometimes Zeke was under attack from both Brady and me, and a few times—playfully and carefully—Brady found himself besieged by the two grown-ups, until there was no more water for the guns.
By then, Brady was thoroughly tired out and I knew the date had to come to an end. Zeke sensed it, too, and he offered to help me carry the basket and bags back to the car, so that I could carry my flowers and my son. As I strapped Brady into his car seat, sparing a moment to watch a still-damp Zeke walk towards his car on the other end of the parking lot from us, I realized that I wished he were coming home with us. I wanted to spend more time with him. Shit. I put all my attention on Brady’s straps, making sure I didn’t do anything wrong in my distraction. But once I was behind the wheel and driving home while my son fell asleep in the backseat, I couldn’t escape the realization that I was developing actual feelings for a client.