Love Undiscovered (Love in San Soloman Book 2)

by Denise Wells

  Stephen declines anything more, so she leaves to put in my order. I can’t believe that in the time it took to sit down in the bar before my order was even taken, he obliterated my world. And there’s not much I can do about it.

  “What do I have to do to change your mind? I’ll do anything. Just say it. I need this.” I say, as I slowly move shredded napkin pieces under my fresh one.

  He chokes slightly, then clears his throat. “Is that a… are you… is that a proposition, Ms. Vargas? Because I’m sure I don’t have to—”

  “What? Are you kidding me? Gross. No. I meant work wise? My God. What is it with you guys?”

  “I’m not sure—”

  “Would you have asked that same question to Donaldson?” I ask.

  “I don’t see where that is—”

  “Sexist?”

  “I was going to say relevant,” he says.

  “Un-fucking-believable.”

  “Remi, please calm down. You are a good engineer, you just aren’t—”

  “Taken seriously apparently.”

  “Well, since you brought it up, it can be hard to take you seriously at times.”

  “Why? My results are always above par, I am in the lab crazy long hours checking and double checking everything. I mean, I work my ass off, Stephen.”

  “I agree, you put in long hours and your work is good. Solid even. But we have a certain image to project outside the office and you don’t always fit that image.”

  “Because I’m a woman?”

  “Because of how you dress. Remi, your wardrobe can be, shall we say, a bit risqué at times.”

  “To prove a point! The office is completely sexist. It’s a good ole boys club in there. Everyone treats me like a pretty face who doesn’t know anything. So I dress the part and kick ass at the same time. To prove a point and show you all you’re wrong.”

  He raises his eyebrows at me and does a little shoulder shrug, head cock at the same time.

  “I brought a very conservative suit to wear tomorrow,” I tell him.

  “So did Donaldson,” he smirks.

  What a dick.

  “I may as well go back home then, no reason to stay here.” The waitress sets my drink down, I pick it up and down it in a few large gulps. The fire of the vodka coursing through my system, leaving a comfortably numb feeling in its absence. I take a deep breath and look at Stephen, whose mouth is hanging open. And then up at the waitress, who has yet to leave. Her eyes have widened to an almost comical size.

  “I’ll have another please, and put them both on his tab.” The waitress looks to Stephen for confirmation. He nods.

  “What is it with people not taking my word for anything?” I ask.

  Neither answer. The waitress scurries away.

  “Remi, it is important that you attend as second chair. In case Donaldson has questions on the research—”

  “My research.”

  “Or the audience has questions that he may not be able to answer.”

  “Because it’s not his work.”

  “I would appreciate you not having an attitude in regard to this,” Stephen says.

  A short bark-like laugh comes from my mouth.

  “Your cooperation is expected and, of course, appreciated,” he says.

  The waitress appears with my second drink. God bless her for sensing this is a tense situation and getting drink number two back to me in a speedy manner.

  I take a big gulp, immediately feeling better and nauseous at the same time. “Okay, well, if that’s all you needed me for, I’ll just take my cocktail and be out of your hair.” Then I laugh since he barely has enough for his comb-over.

  “I will see you tomorrow, Remi.”

  “Yep, see ya.”

  I’m well on my way to drunk, a martini and a half on an empty stomach will do that to a girl. I don’t think I’ve eaten since dinner at Chance’s parents’ last night. If I don’t count all the gummy bear heads at Kat’s.

  My God, was that just last night? It seems like forever ago. I head out of the bar toward a small lounge area in front of a fake fireplace and take a seat in the middle of one of the couches facing it; just to make sure no one sits next to me. I don’t want company, I have no desire to interact with anybody, and I’m beyond pissed off.

  How dare he do this. I am so fucking tired of men.

  Men in authority.

  Men named Chance Bauer.

  Really, just one man named Chance Bauer.

  And then all other men named everything else.

  Like Stephen.

  I’m just tired of men.

  I down the rest of my drink, then pull out my phone checking for new text messages. I’ve got nothing from the girls. Nothing from Chance. It’s barely six o’clock and I’m ready to either cry, which I don’t do, or go to bed. Which sounds awesome.

  I head to the elevators exhausted, not even wanting to be here anymore. I don’t really care about the keynote speakers in the morning. I didn’t have many in-sessions or table talks that I wanted to see, and thanks to my boss I’m no longer speaking, which is the main reason why I’m here.

  So what’s the point? So I can save Donaldson the twerp.

  Fuck that.

  I could be at home and not working. But, instead I’m here. And we all know I’ll stay here. Because that’s what I’ve been told to do. And good girls always do what they are told.

  I get into the elevator really wanting to just kick my shoes off now, but I wait. Knowing that if I do, the walk from the elevator to my room will be torture when I have to put them back on. The elevator doors open and I awkwardly make my way down the hall toward my room.

  Because after the day I've had, a strange bed has never sounded so sweet.

  Chapter 38

  Chance

  I wake after only having slept for a couple of restless hours. Hudson lounges lazily at the foot of the bed. I wait a few minutes to see if I can go back to sleep.

  Nope.

  I get up, hit the bathroom, then back in my room to dress for a pre-dawn run. I peek out the window, knowing it’s early, even for me, when the sun hasn’t even thought about approaching the horizon yet.

  Huds perks up the minute I grab my running shoes. His cue that something exciting, at least in his world, is about to happen. We head outside, the chill in the early morning air waking us both. I clip his leash to my waist belt and take off toward our normal five-mile round-trip route.

  As we run, I think about what Matthews said last night. About women, and apologies, and waiting until they are ready to hear it. I know enough about women, having grown up with my mom and my sisters, to know that what he says is true.

  Total rookie mistake.

  One that I won’t make again.

  You’ve got this, I remind myself.

  You’re the man.

  No one is better prepared, with a mom, two older sisters, one younger sister, and a bat-shit crazy ex-fiancée. I’ve experienced all facets of the female psyche. Or at least most of them. I just need to apply what I know to what’s happening with Remi.

  Huds and I hit the end of mile three and turn back toward home. Past our normal turn around point, but worth it for what I’ve been able to sort out in my brain. If my sisters were upset over a guy, what would they want?

  A gesture.

  A grand gesture. To show her that she’s important to me.

  That’s it.

  I’ll go to the conference, maybe even in time for her presentation. Show her I support her work, that I think it’s important. I make a note to text Kat to see where it is, once it’s a more reasonable hour, then pick up the pace so I can get back home faster.

  Not only does Kat tell me where the conference is, but she offers to go with me. Before I know it, I’ve rented a car, picked up both Kat and Lexie, and we are on our way to San Francisco to see Remi.

  I feel nervous but excited. Now that I'm actually on my way to see Remi, the adrenaline of having made such a spontaneous dec
ision has started to wear off.

  Am I doing the right thing?

  I gut check, but all I feel is nerves.

  Traffic is heavy but not as bad as I'd anticipated given the wildfires in the next county over, where my parents live and where I grew up. Luckily my parents are on the opposite side as the fires, so they aren't in any danger. We’ll drive past their freeway exit on our way to Remi's conference.

  As much as I try to remain positive, I break about three minutes into our trip.

  “Ok ladies, I need your help. I don’t know how much you know about what went down with Remi and me, but I’m going to admit that I was wrong.”

  “Thank God,” Kat says.

  “Hey!” I say.

  “Chance,” Lexie says. “You bet you could have sex with Remi. For money. That’s going to make any girl mad.”

  “I also bet that I could date her. The whole point was to get her to loosen… you know, she had a bet with you guys too,” I say.

  “Maybe,” Kat says. “But—”

  “There’s no maybe about it,” I counter. “You ladies had a bet.”

  “Okay, suppose we did,” Kat says.

  “’Cause you did.” I glance at her.

  “Are you going to let me talk?” Kat asks.

  “Yes. Sorry,” I say. I do a ‘zip my lips’ gesture so she knows I’m serious.

  “We bet shoes and some dates,” Kat says. “You bet sex and money.”

  “I bet dates too. Look, is that the big problem?” I ask. “That it was sex that I bet on?”

  Kat just looks at me, her eyes narrow and expression fierce. I sigh. “I know I did something shitty. I hurt Remi in the process. I didn’t mean to. I mean, it was a bet at first, but I didn’t even know who I was betting on. It was just a girl that Alex was talking shit about. Once I realized it was Remi and we spent some real time together, it became so much more than that. I mean, I really like her. I think I always have. Ever since the rugby championship party in college, I’ve been, you know, pining.”

  “Barf,” Kat says, pretending to stick her finger down her throat.

  Lexie bounces in the back seat, barely containing her excitement over my revelations. “I love a good pining, as long as there’s a happily ever after,” she says.

  I smile at her in the rear-view mirror. “The question remains,” I say. “How do I fix this? I mean, you guys are closest to her, so you know her best.”

  “A grand gesture!” Lexie says.

  “Isn’t that what I’m doing?” I ask.

  “Yes!” Lexie says. “Which is how we know it’s going to work.”

  “Slow your roll, tootsie pop,” Kat says to Lexie. “Just because it might work for you, doesn’t mean it will work for Remi.”

  “Grand gestures work for everyone,” Lexie says, tilting her chin up.

  “Okay,” I say. “Clearly, I’m doing the grand gesture. So, past that, how do I fix this? I mean, fuck.” I run my hand over my face. Not sure if I want to go where I seem to be about to go. But it's the best way to get them on my side. “I think I’m in love with her,” I whisper loudly.

  “Ohmigod! Ohmigod!” Lexie bounces in her seat and claps her hands simultaneously. “I’m so excited. You guys will be so amazing together!”

  “I have to say, Bauer,” Kat says. “At the risk of negating my earlier barfing reference, I agree with Lex, it’s a good match.”

  “Thanks, Cookie,” I say.

  “So, what are your intentions toward our girl, Bauer?” Kat asks.

  “You want to know what I intend to do to her once she forgives me? Dirty talk. I like it. First, I’m going to get her alone—”

  “I meant the honorable kind of intentions,” Kat says.

  “Do you want to get married?” Lexie asks.

  Her question stops me.

  After Helen, I swore I would never get engaged again, let alone married. I had no desire to lay myself out on the line like that again. It’s too risky. You never know what you're going to get.

  But then I think of my parents and how strong their relationship is. And my sisters and how much their spouses bring to their lives. How much easier their lives are with someone to share the journey with.

  Is that what I want?

  The answer washes over me like a cold shower over hot skin.

  I take a deep breath before I answer. “If you'd asked me last week, I would've said no. But today, I’m not sure. I know I don’t want to lose Remi.”

  “That’s so sweet!” Lexie cries. “I love this so much. Remi needs someone who will keep her in line. Otherwise, she just walks all over guys. Chews them up and spits them out.”

  I laugh, even though I can picture Remi doing just that.

  Figuratively, of course.

  “And you love her, despite that.” Lexie sighs.

  “Let’s slow it down a little bit. I said I think I’m in love with her.”

  “Oh, I just know she feels the same. She loves—”

  “Hey, don’t go putting words in Remi’s mouth,” Kat interrupts. “You don’t know how she feels.”

  “Wow. Is that some kind of warning?” I ask, frowning.

  “Not necessarily,” she says. “I just don’t think we should assume anything. That’s all.”

  “Ok,” I say. “I get that. It makes me nervous, but I get it.”

  “How much longer ‘til we get there?” Lexie asks.

  “Considering we've been on the road about twenty minutes and it's a two-hour drive without traffic delays...” Kat says.

  “I'm just so excited to get there,” Lexie says. “Remi will be so happy to see us. I love surprises.”

  “Not all surprises are good ones,” Kat says.

  “Okay, cranky pants. No need to be so negative,” Lexie says.

  “I'm not negative, I’m—”

  “A realist, I know,” Lexie interrupts Kat with a sigh.

  I break into the conversation. “Ladies, I have to ask, why did you guys have a bet anyway?”

  “Does it matter?” Kat asks.

  “Because,” Lexie says. “Remi has a hard time with relationships and we wanted her to see that they aren’t so bad.”

  “Not that a month would have been a full-blown relationship,” Kat says. “But it would give her an idea of consistency. No, that’s not the right word. Gah! Lex, what’s the word I’m trying to think of?”

  “Stability?” Lexie suggests.

  “No, but that will work,” Kat says to Lexie. Then turns to me and says, “Besides, Bauer, you know what I mean.”

  I nod because I think I do know what she means.

  “And we decided on a month because that’s practically the longest that Remi has dated someone who lived in the same city as her. She needed to see that it’s not so bad to do.”

  “Right, and that relationships can be okay. Good even. And they don’t need to last forever to have a positive impact on your life,” Kat says.

  “Since her Louboutins are her favorite thing, and are crazy expensive, we figured she would take it most serious if they were at stake,” Lexie says. “So the bet was that she had to date someone for a month, seeing them at least twice a week, or she had to give her shoes to a homeless woman on the street.”

  “Longevity!” Kat says, referring back to her earlier point. “It gives her an idea of longevity with a person. No, that’s not right either. Maybe I just meant commitment.”

  “Jesus Christ,” I say. “You mean to tell me she can commit to a nine hundred dollar pair of shoes, but not to a few dates with the same guy?”

  Both girls stay oddly silent when I ask this question.

  I keep talking. “Let’s be real, I have three sisters and I still don’t understand the draw to a nine hundred dollar pair of shoes.”

  “Maybe your sisters aren’t very fashion oriented,” Kat says.

  “My sisters are fashionable.”

  “Maybe they are just more frugal in their choices for footwear,” Lexie says.

&nb
sp; “What makes them worth that much money?” I ask.

  “I've never had a pair, I don't know,” Lexie says.

  “Picture this,” Kat says. “Your foot is your dick, and the shoe is the most beautiful, wet pussy you've ever seen.”

  “Kat!” Lexie says.

  “What? Bauer has had sex, apparently with Remi even. I'm not saying anything he hasn't already heard, Lexie.”

  For some reason, now that I have been with Remi, talking about sex with Kat makes me feel uncomfortable, guilty even. My face reddens.

  “Ha! Bauer, are you embarrassed?” Kat asks.

  “Pfft. No. Yes. Why does this feel weird now?”

  “Because, you’re in love with Remi,” Lexie says.

  “How do you get that from that?” Kat asks.

  “Easy, he used to hit on all of us all the time with no problem. Now he's embarrassed when you bring up S-E-X,” Lexie says.

  “You're spelling it why?” Kat asks. Lexie shrugs in return.

  “Oh, to live in your head, Lex,” Kat says.

  “No better place to be!”

  I turn to them both. “Can you explain about the shoe without comparing it to sex?”

  “Nope,” Kat says with a smirk. “Your foot is the cock, and that shoe is the best motherfucking pussy in the world. And you'll pay just about anything to get in it.”

  “Apparently,” I say dryly.

  “And, they are sexy as hell on,” Kat says. “They make your legs look a mile long. And when you strut, that beautiful red sole flashes and everyone knows that you are wearing—”

  “A vagina shoe,” Lexie interrupts.

  We all laugh at that.

  “Good one, Lex,” Kat says, still smiling.

  “Thanks!” Lexie preens.

  I decide to change the subject. “Matthews get called out for the fires?” I ask Kat.

  “Yep. It's outta control, they need all the help they can get.”

  “That’s got to be difficult to deal with,” I say.

  “I'd like to say I'm used to it, you know. But you never get used to it. So I have to remind myself that people die, every day. From all sorts of crazy, mundane things. And just because his job is more high-risk, doesn't necessarily make it more deadly. Even though that sounds like an oxymoronic statement,” she says.