by Cari Z
“We’ve just got to find the right guy,” I said. “There are plenty of men who’d put up with one night of hell a year for the pleasure of dating you.” Like me.
“Yeah?” He arched one eyebrow, a trick I’d never mastered despite years of trying. “Where are you hiding all these clearly desperate individuals?”
“I have connections,” I told him confidently. I’d never had a shortage of friends, no matter where I lived, and more than a few of them had met Beau and commented on his silver fox status. This dinner could be a trial by fire for dating him. “Come on, we can make it work,” I begged when he still looked dubious. “I’ll find the perfect guy for you, I swear. You won’t regret this.”
Beau stared at me and I met his gaze, unwilling to back down. This was non-negotiable as far as I was concerned. He didn’t have to settle for some random Craigslist hookup when there were plenty of guys out there who would be more than happy to put up with his mother once a year in exchange for the awesomeness that was Beau. I had complete confidence that at least one of those guys was in my circle of friends.
Suddenly, a smile broke out on his face: not the broad, gleaming thing he’d worn when he was laughing or the small, barely-there lip curve he’d given Lorna and her family back at the office. This was a sweet, slightly smug smile that I could have stared at for hours. “It’s a deal,” Beau said.
“Yes! You’re making the right call,” I assured him. “This will be so much better than before. This will be the best awful dinner with your parents ever, I guarantee it.”
“You say it, I believe it,” Beau agreed. “Finish up quick. We’ve got to be back to the office in fifteen minutes.”
Wow, time flew. I scarfed down my mostly-cold sandwich, still delicious, polished off my coffee and managed to keep myself stain-free despite my haste. The walk back to work was quiet but comfortable, and as we both settled into the afternoon rush, my newfound confidence buoyed my mood back up to its awesome sprightly levels. And by sprightly, I meant my “move aside, motherfucker, I am the god of office efficiency!” mood. Lorna put up with it pretty well, all things considered, although she’d confiscated all of my fluorescent Post-its last week after I’d flown one too many hot pink paper airplanes decorated with motivational slogans her way.
“Who poured crack in your coffee?” she asked me at five as she prepared to leave. I didn’t follow suit— there was still work to be done, and while I was eager to get going on the whole date thing, I didn’t have any pressing reason to get out of the office. Wednesday was my DVR love and Mom-calling night, because one couldn’t party all the time, no matter how hard I’d tried in college.
“I don’t need artificial stimulants to kick ass,” I told Lorna as I forwarded Research’s precedent files to Beau’s inbox. “I’m perfectly capable of turning my frown upside down all on my own.”
“Really? Because this morning you were downright morose, and all afternoon you’ve been… perky.” She came over and glanced in my trashcan. “Ah. Beau took you out to lunch. No wrappers,” she added when I stared at her. “Plus there’s no scent of air freshener, which there would be if you’d eaten in because you’ve got a love affair with garlic.”
“I always brush afterward,” I said automatically, impressed despite myself. “Jesus, Carrie’s teenage years are going to be hell having Sherlock as a mom.”
“Nonsense, we’ll be the best of friends.”
“Keep telling yourself that when she comes home with a new boyfriend, a new piercing and an application for Stanford all in the same week,” I taunted. Not that I’d done that, but according to my grandma, my mother had. And that had been a good week.
“Goodnight, Eric.”
“’Night, Lorna.” She walked out, and a minute later, Beau called me into his office.
“You don’t have to stay,” he told me, glancing up from his screen. He had the glasses on again, and I held onto the doorframe as a precaution against melting into the floor. “I’ve got a handle on the rest of this.”
“Yeah, but you’ve been here since, like, six in the morning. If anyone should go home, it’s you,” I told him. It was a familiar argument, and one I was fully prepared to follow-through with, but a second later, he took the glasses off, sat back and stretched. He arched his back, stretched his long, buff arms up over his head, and I did my best not to let my jaw drop.
“Maybe you’re right,” Beau said as he relaxed a moment later, much to my relief. “Do you have any plans tonight?”
“Calling my mother and Game of Thrones,” I said. “Because at least I know better than to get attached to anyone on that show. I’m never watching The Good Wife again, by the way.”
Beau grimaced. “Yeah, I wasn’t too pleased when they killed off—”
“Don’t even speak of it, I’m still traumatized.”
“You poor thing,” he teased me, and there was something about the way his accent came through when he said “thing” that made me sigh. Fuck me; I was really off kilter today if my compartmentalization was failing me so completely.
“Fine, so, home for both of us,” I said briskly. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, and if I don’t beat you in to work, I’ll set Lorna on you.”
“Scary.”
“I know. This is me playing hardball.”
Beau leaned forward, opened his mouth as if he wanted to speak, but hesitated. I knew that I had to flee. What if he was having second thoughts about me finding him a date? I couldn’t give him a chance to talk me out of it, because the man was persuasive as hell. “Okay, gotta go, Danaerys awaits! See you tomorrow, Beau.”
“See you,” he echoed, and I shut down my computer, grabbed my jacket and left the office with a sigh of relief.
Watching Game of Thrones ended up taking a backseat to making myself a home-cooked meal, because too much takeout would kill me someday, and calling my mom. Some boyfriends had called me a mama’s boy. I just called them jealous.
“Hi, hon.”
“Hey.” I stirred the noodles in the pot on the stove and decreased the heat a little. “How are you?”
“I’m good! Grading papers, drinking tea, watching baseball… it’s a lovely evening in.”
“How’re the Rockies doing?”
“Actually, it’s a Mariners game. I figure I should get a handle on their players if I’m going to be watching them in person.”
That was news to me. “When are you going to a Mariners game?”
“When I come out to visit over the summer, hon.”
“Were you planning on informing me of this at some point?” I demanded.
“That’s what I’m doing right now,” she said calmly, making me feel like an idiot. “Don’t worry— it’s all taken care of. Beau got me the tickets as an early birthday present.”
My boss got her… “Since when has Beau been buying you birthday presents?”
“Oh, just this year, after I mentioned how much I appreciated the great seats he got me for the Rockies last time. He’s such a nice man, Eric. I’m glad you’ve got someone like that for a friend.”
“Mom, he’s not my friend, he’s my boss,” I told her sternly. “Please don’t make me look unprofessional.”
“I think he’s both, clearly, or he wouldn’t be so nice to me,” my mother replied. “I always call your best friends on their birthdays, remember? Joey? Ishmael? I called Zach just last week. None of them mind. And it’s not as though I solicited the tickets or anything, Beau bought them of his own volition, so calm down and stop scolding me.”
“Sorry,” I said with a wince. Maybe she was right. I was being too sensitive. “Long day.”
“I understand. I’ll let you get back to your dinner, Eric.”
“And I’ll let you get back to your ball game. Love you, Mom.”
“Love you, too, hon.”
We hung up, and I thought about what she’d said as I drained the pasta, then tossed it with garlic and olive oil and poured it into a nice Italian ceramic bowl. May
be it wasn’t impossible for me to be friends with Beau. After all, he’d been friends with Lorna forever, and she’d been his personal assistant a lot longer than I had. The scenario was undeniably different, but he did the same things for her that he did for me: the coffee buying, taking her out to the occasional lunch, coming to her daughter’s birthday party— okay, not that one for me, but he’d come to my housewarming party, that had to count for something.
In fact, he’d given me this pasta bowl. The set of four was the nicest thing in my cupboards.
I’d moved into my own place about three months ago, when my roommate Aaron indicated that he was making an offer on a house and might not be around once the lease was up. His offer fell through, but I left anyway. We were still good friends; in fact, we were supposed to meet up tomorrow to go clubbing at—
Oh. Aaron. He’d be perfect for Beau. I’d been running friends through my head all evening, weighing their good points and bad points, and Aaron had far more of the former. He was an engineer at a local biotech company, he had travelled a lot overseas, he was good looking, and he was almost extroverted at times— I mean for an engineer, he was downright chatty. He and Beau had talked for almost an hour at the housewarming party, something about the Greek Isles and sailboats.
Perfect. I should feel happier about my deductive success. Hunger was probably sapping my energy. I carried my bowl and a fork into the living room, and cued up the newest Game of Thrones episode. I would call Aaron with the good news tomorrow.
****
I was the first one to the office the next morning, which meant I ordered the coffee for everyone, turned on the lights and booted up the computer. It was kind of nice being the first one in, quiet in a way the office rarely was, and I hummed as I scanned the calendar for any new additions to today’s schedule. Client phone call, client meeting, Jackson’s visit— that one was in candy-apple red— and then a partner meeting right after that in the conference room. Easy enough. I made a few notes, got a few things printing for the meeting, sent a quick email to Aaron and then lost myself to Amazon’s toy section. There were so many options; it was hard to decide what to get for Carrie. I forwarded a few selections to Beau, just in case he hadn’t shopped for her yet.
My phone dinged. New message from Aaron.
I’m sorry, did you just pimp out your boss to me?
I smiled.
No, because you couldn’t afford him like that. This is a genuine invitation to go on a genuine date. Admittedly, it’s going to suck but that won’t be his fault.
Why would I want to go on a shitty date with Beau?
Oh Aaron, forever missing the bigger picture.
Think of this date as your trial by fire. The doors to dating him like a normal person will be blown wide open, pun totally intended.
What makes you think I even want to go on a date with him?
I frowned at my phone. .
Because everyone with eyes does. Plus you’ve met him, you guys have talked, can you honestly tell me you’re not attracted to him? Don’t lie, be honest.
Point.
Damn right, I had a point.
But does he have any idea you’re doing this?
Yep. All above board, totally not creepy and you’re saving him from taking a potential serial killer to dinner with his parents. His backup plan is Craigslist, dude. Not cool.
So why don’t you go with him, then?
I didn’t want to get into that now.
Look, in or out? If in, tonight we skip clubbing to dress you like a normal person.
There’s nothing wrong with the way I dress!
I scoffed.
Whatever you say, Mr. Rogers.
“Who’s that?”
“Whoa!” I spun around in my chair so fast I almost fell out of it, clutching my phone to my chest. Beau was standing to the side of me, looking impeccable in a dark gray suit and blue tie. “How did you sneak in here?”
“I spend my weekends moonlighting as a ninja,” he replied, and my heart gave a little quiver at his perfectly deadpan delivery. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I said, releasing my death grip on my phone and setting it face down on my desk. It dinged, but I ignored it. “I’m fine, no problems. Just talking with a friend, it can wait until later. Good morning! You look…” Amazing. “Well rested.”
Beau smiled and shrugged a little. “I’m feeling a lot better about tomorrow. That definitely helped to relax me.”
“Great! Glad I could help. It’s going to go well, I promise.” My phone dinged again, and I sincerely hoped it wasn’t Aaron telling me he’d decided not to do this after all.
“Maybe you should get that,” Beau suggested as he headed into his office. I waited for him to sit down at his desk before furtively glancing at my screen. Two new texts.
I do NOT look like Mr. Rogers.
Fine, I’m in.
Oh, bless you, Aaron. You’re my favorite person ever, I replied. I can be over by 7.
Bring food.
That was fair. I texted an assent, added a reminder to my schedule, and put my phone away. Time to get to work.
Lorna got in a few minutes later, and we spent an easy morning together in relative quiet. She checked her phone every ten minutes or so, laughing a little with each new message, and finally I had to know. “What are you looking at?”
“Mom took Carrie to the zoo today,” she replied. “You’ve got to see this.” Naturally, that meant me getting out of my chair to go and look at what she wanted me to see, but I didn’t mind. I walked over to her desk and bent down to see her phone. A picture of Carrie wearing an otter hat and standing jubilant in front of the…
“Is that a sloth bear exhibit?” I asked, a bit incredulously, because what?
“Yeah. It’s the closest thing they’ve got to actual sloths, which Carrie is obsessed with since her dad showed her baby sloth videos on YouTube.” Lorna smiled indulgently. “About the only time she goes slow these days is when she’s pretending to be a sloth. It’s very cute, except when we’re trying to get somewhere and she only wants to crawl on all fours.”
“Every child is a mystery to be solved,” I said. Lorna rolled her eyes.
“Thank you, Don Juan. Not the best misquote you’ve ever given me, I have to say.”
“How about ‘It’s not about what it is, it’s about what it can become.’”
“The Lorax. Not bad,” Lorna complimented me. “I almost tied my tongue in a knot reading Fox In Socks last night.”
“Was it the part with the poodle battle?” a voice asked from behind us. I whirled around and saw Jackson standing there, handsome and smiling in a dark suit and holding an elaborate bouquet tied with a little bow that he handed to Lorna. “That’s the part that gets me. I have nephews,” he confided.
“These are lovely,” Lorna said. “I so rarely get gifts anymore.”
“I got you a cupcake just yesterday!” I exclaimed.
“That was an apology present, it doesn’t count.”
“Oh, Eric,” Jackson tsked. “Have you been naughty? Did you upset the queen?”
“The queen needs to learn how to let go,” I said. “And you aren’t supposed to be here for another half hour, Mr. Hughes.”
Jackson’s dark eyes sparkled as he stepped a little closer to me. He was a few inches shorter than me and about a decade older, but still good looking enough to make my breath catch a little. He had black, curly hair and Mediterranean bronze skin, exactly the kind of skin I envied because I would never be able to approximate it myself. He was gorgeous, and he knew it. “Beau moved things up a bit so we could have longer to go over the details of the latest incorporation. We’re actually going out to lunch at The Kingfish Café, you should come with us.”
Kingfish was one of my favorite restaurants, and not one I had the money or opportunity to go to very often. But I had too much to do to get things ready for Beau’s weekly meeting with the other senior partners tomorrow morning. “I can’t,” I said,
a little regretfully.
“Beau works you too hard,” he said, setting a warm hand on my shoulder.
Or not hard enough. I struggled to repress my nascent blush and shrugged. “I like what I do.”
“You must, to—”
“Jackson,” Beau’s voice was sterner than usual, especially for a client. It went straight to my knees, and I was glad I was already leaning against a desk. “Leave Eric alone.”
Jackson grinned and held up his hands peaceably. “It’s just small talk, sweetheart. You know there’s no room in my heart for any man but you.” He batted his eyelashes coquettishly. “I was just inviting your assistant to lunch with us, I’m sure his perspective would come in handy.” God, everything the man said could be considered innuendo. Usually I enjoyed it, but today I felt a little withdrawn for some reason. I didn’t say anything, just stared at Beau, waiting.
Beau looked between the two of us, then pointed at Jackson and said, “You, out. I’ll be with you in a minute.” Then he gave me the smile I’d been hoping for and said, “I would ask you to come with us, but I know there’s still a lot to do for tomorrow and I don’t want to make you stay late.”
“It’s fine,” I said. And it was, everything was fine. Go with, stay late… something slightly shameful in me wanted to spend as much time as possible with Beau before his dinner date tomorrow, because then he’d be spoken for, and it wouldn’t be the same.
“Still.” Beau pulled on his jacket and picked up his briefcase, then crossed over to me. I smelled his spicy cologne over the scent of Lorna’s flowers, and I inhaled slow and deep, trying to be circumspect. “I know you like their food. I’ll bring you back something.”
“Thank you,” I breathed. I heard what might have been a snicker from someone, but I was too wrapped up in maintaining my dignity to care. Beau touched my shoulder, the same one Jackson had briefly held, then left with his client.
“You’re an idiot.”
I shook my head, dispelling the haze in my mind, then frowned at Lorna. “What?”