And the thing was, I wasn’t tired or sick or any of the things that I’d consider acceptable as an excuse from Keith. On the contrary, my lack of focus was named Rex.
There was something about him. Maybe it was the way he carried himself with such confidence even after he showed up later than anyone could call fashionably late, or maybe it was the way his eyes sparkled as he invited me to meet him for dinner tonight. Most likely it was knowing that I would be spending my evening across from him, eating good food...staring into those eyes...enveloped in his scent.
All of that from one meeting, one I nearly botched by running into him and almost knocking him on his ass...his ass that was perfectly hugged by his slacks. If I were to guess, he used Jacques across town. They were the only tailor with that kind of skill with the exception of my shop, the one I’d been neglecting as I daydreamed about the alpha.
“Did you get drunk on your blind—whoa, you got laid, didn't you? Was it bad? Is that why you are weird?” Keith pulled up a stool and sat down as if this were freaking story hour.
“No, I did not get drunk. I didn’t even have my date. He had to work.” I clipped the pile together. If things went well with my two scheduled fittings and I finished the orders in queue, I might be able to get them done after we closed and before I had my date.
“Oh, this is a pity party for one.” He placed his hand on my arm and if it were anyone but Keith I’d have thought him being judgemental. “You don’t need that asshole.”
“I’m going out with him tonight instead.” I stood up as my phone chimed to let us know it was time to unlock the doors. “Let’s get this day rocking. We have fittings and all the orders to cut.” People loved to see us working our asses off like we were a little sweatshop when they came in. For some reason, watching us hunched over fabric made it easier for them to give up their hard-earned money—or inherited money—or heck, embezzled money. We didn’t ask.
“I can cut if you want. We don’t have anyone coming until one. At least no one scheduled.”
“I was thinking you could do the needs-to-be-hemmed pile and get them out of the way.” They didn’t bring a ton of money a piece, but they added up and were quick work.
“Can do, boss.” He went to his sewing station after grabbing the pile as I opened the door.
I stepped outside, my little sandwich board in hand, loving the feel of the cool air on my face.
How had I let the alpha, the one who nearly stood me up, get so under my skin? I still knew nothing about him except for one love and one hate. Was he a nice guy? A player? Heck, for all I knew he was a hitman or something equally not good.
“Morning,” a woman walking by pushing a baby carriage gave a half wave as she strolled past.
“Morning.” I smiled back and waved at her baby.
Gah, I wanted that. Not now. But at some point, that was what I wanted for my life. And maybe that was why I was so invested in this one date, this date I almost missed out on.
A woman carrying a garment bag walked up to the front door just as I was about to head in. “I’m glad you’re open. I have a dress that needs to be shortened so I don’t need to wear stilts.” She laughed at her own joke.
“You came to the right place.” I followed her in and measured her hem, the first of many walk-ins of the day, which was great. It meant that time flew by, and before I knew it, it was time to go home and get ready for my evening out.
This time I dressed up a little bit more, wearing my favorite suit—although I’d never admit that to Keith. It was the first one I’d let him do from beginning to end under my guidance. Knowing that I took someone who could barely thread a needle and taught them to be an excellent tailor gave it extra meaning. That and the pants hugged my ass perfectly.
I decided not to go inside early, like I’d done the day before. Fool me once shame on you and all that. Instead I decided to arrive early, but not too early, and wait outside. If he didn’t come within the first fifteen minutes, I’d leave. There was no use getting too worked up over someone who wasn’t worked up over you or something like that.
I was protecting my heart.
At least that was what I thought up until the time I heard a cabby shout, “Get out of the way!” And saw the man I’d spent far too many hours thinking about nearly come to his demise and my heart almost beat a hole in my chest.
71
Rex
Don’t make the same mistake twice. I’d had that drilled into me by a former boss, and since starting my own company, I’d made plenty of mistakes. But I’d learned from each one and never repeated them.
Tonight I’d arrived at the restaurant early and circled the block a few times before finding the perfect place to park opposite the entrance. After inspecting my hair and face in the rearview mirror, I was about to get out when Jason strolled around the corner. He was fifteen minutes early, but instead of waiting inside, he checked his phone and paced over the pavement.
Has he just come from work? The previous night he was dressed casually but this evening he wore a double-breasted jacket and matching pants. I had to get the number of his tailor. He’d shaved which gave me the perfect view of that strong jaw, but I had to admit, I missed the scruff.
As he scanned the street, I slunk down in my seat. Shit! What in the hell was I doing? What if he recognized me and came over? I pictured the omega peering in the window at me curled under the steering wheel as I gave a feeble smile and wave.
Time to go. I raced across the street and avoided a cab whose driver wound down his window and yelled, “Get out of the way!” But my gaze was on Jason whose eyes lit up as I leaped onto the pavement in front of him. His scent smacked me in the face so hard I whimpered.
“You came,” he said.
God, I almost did. Come, that is. “I did.” Wait, was he expecting me to be a no-show? “Was there any doubt?”
“I guess not.” His smile broadened, revealing even white teeth. Maybe I needed the name of his dentist as well as his tailor. “Did you hurt yourself, Rex?”
Guess he heard my sniveling. “Nah.”
“Shall we go in?”
He nodded, and we strode between the double doors with me instinctively putting my hand on the small of his back. But on realizing what I’d done, I whipped it away. Jason didn’t acknowledge my hand or its removal. Have I blown it?
We ordered beer and nibbles to start, and after the waiter left, the moment I’d been dreading had finally arrived. It wasn’t enough to like his suit or for my dick to get hard when I inhaled his scent. We had to talk. I was no good at small talk. That was Colin’s thing.
Jason undid the buttons on his jacket and sat back in the chair as the light from outside highlighted his light brown hair. “I love your suit,” I blurted out. “You must tell me who made it.” That was a bit much. “No, I don’t mean you must tell me. Perhaps it’s a secret. What I’m trying to say is, I’d like to know who made it, if possible.”
My voice trailed off. I’d well and truly fucked up the date before it had even started. God, I was an idiot. But my date didn’t appear offended or turned off. He looked… I wasn’t sure how to describe the expression on his face. It was… almost proud.
“Thank you for the compliment. I’m glad you like it. It’s new.” He rubbed a thumb over the lapel.
Whew! He wasn’t annoyed.
“I own a tailoring shop.”
“You made that suit!” My raised voice had heads turn in our direction.
He held up a hand. “Technically my assistant did with me overseeing him. He’s almost at the end of his apprenticeship. But I designed it and chose the fabric.”
“I’m impressed.” But damn, now I couldn’t ask to have a suit made. If the date went badly I could hardly waltz into his shop tomorrow.
The waiter brought our drinks which gave me time to collect my thoughts. I’d discovered what he did for a living. Now what?
“Cheers.” We clinked glasses and the pungent, herbal aroma of my drink
masked the omega’s scent. I threw the drink down my throat and enjoyed the malty favor as my mind worked overtime.
But as I placed my glass on the table, Jason rescued the conversation by asking, “Blue-and-white Chinese pottery, huh?”
Oh, thank God. A subject I was familiar with. And one I was passionate about.
“That’s unusual.”
“When I was growing up, we had a neighbor who was a widow. I used to mow her lawn and she’d offer me a glass of homemade lemonade when I was done. I’d sit in her living room and admire a blue-and-white Chinese ginger vase she had displayed on a shelf. I’d never seen anything like it.”
Jason sipped his drink but kept his eyes on me.
“And she’d tell me how her family had arrived in this country with nothing but that jar. She left it to me in her will. It’s my most precious possession, not because of any material value but because of its story. The places it’s been, the things it's seen, I can’t imagine. It’s a symbol of strength, perseverance, and friendship.”
I didn’t realize I’d finished talking and the waiter was asking if we’d like to order. Jason suggested he come back, and when I looked at my date, I’d swear his eyes were filled with tears which mirrored the ones in my own.
“That’s beautiful,” he mumbled.
“It started me on a journey of collecting.” I blinked and cleared my throat.
“One of my clients left an auction house catalogue in the shop and I flicked through it,” he explained. “There were photos of blue-and-white vases, jars, dishes, and boxes. I was fascinated. When our museum announced an exhibition of Chinese pottery, I visited every weekend. And I fell in love with it.”
Once again, the waiter interrupted us. If I’d been anywhere else, I would have been annoyed, but we ordered and got talking of other things. Jason enjoyed stories of me being tossed out of the movies for being obnoxious. “It should have been them. They were the ones chattering.”
I mentioned my job but didn’t dwell on it. I didn’t want to bore him with dreary talk of property development. Instead, he entertained me with tales of his customers and their quirky demands. I concentrated on what he was saying while noting the adorable way his eyes creased when he giggled. He waved his hands around and there was a lilt in his voice as he described their idiosyncrasies. He’s so cute.
And my first impression of him had been wrong. When he ran into me the previous night, I labeled him hesitant and lacking in confidence. But hearing how he’d struggled to learn his trade and started out on his own, the countless setbacks he’d overcome, had me admiring his strength and tenacity.
It was only when the waiter brought coffee and I gazed around at the near-empty restaurant, that I discovered we’d been chatting for hours. How was that possible?
72
Jason
“We should probably leave,” I put my napkin on the table in front of me. The busboy had just removed everything except our water glasses from the table, a not-so-subtle hint that it was time to go.
“I see that.” His rich chuckle touched me deep.
I wasn’t ready to go. Not yet. We’d had so much fun talking. Conversation flowed so naturally between us, and the more we talked, the more I found we had in common.
Not the things most people were looking for either. We had very different jobs, our lives growing up were also very different, but little things like favorite movies and things that made us smile—there we matched up.
I gave the busboy, the only other person in the room, a half-wave as we left, walking out into the crisp night air.
“I had a good time.” I shoved my hands in my pocket. It had been a long time since I’d been on a date, and I couldn’t remember the last one that ended with me caring if we had another or not. This one was different. I wanted to see him again. I also didn’t want to be that omega that clung to an alpha on the first date and scared him away. “I know we have the app, but did you maybe want my number?” The app was crappy at communicating, something I’d already had Keith mention to Colin who said he was “working on it.”
“I’d like that.” He tapped on his phone and handed it to me. “Call yourself and then we both have each other’s numbers.”
Was he afraid I would give him a fake number? Had someone done that to him before? You’re reading too much into things, dumbass.
My phone vibrated in my pocket and I handed the phone back to him.
“Thanks for dinner.” It was official. I was an awkward hot-ass mess.
Rex shuffled his feet. “Would you like to have a nightcap at my place?” he asked.
Was that code for fuck your brains out? “Maybe?” I squeaked.
“No pressure. I’m just not ready to say good night.”
“Me neither.” I held my hand out hoping he’d take it. “I just wasn’t expecting the offer.”
“I wasn’t expecting to make it, so we’re even.” He took my hand and intertwined our fingers. “My car’s here, but if you feel better bringing yours, that’s fine too.”
“I walked.” I half-shrugged, not sure why that felt embarrassing to admit. He knew I lived in the neighborhood or at least I’d said as much to him. “And if I want to leave, it’s not like carshares are not at the press of an app.”
We walked over to his car where he held the passenger side open for me like a gentleman. I admired the sleek exterior— of the car, not Rex, though his outside was pretty sexy. Nice set of wheels. We drove the short distance to his place, and he used a keycard to open the garage. He lived on what I called the fancy side of town, complete with doorman, overpriced studios, and an easy walk to the river. Rex wove through the garage and parked in a reserved spot. He was around to let me out before I could unclick my seatbelt.
“Thanks,” I took his proffered hand.
“Anytime. The elevator’s right here.” He pointed to the opposite wall.
“You scored a killer spot,” I noted. I’d had to say something as the prospect of being in Rex’s apartment was making my heart beat so fast it was hard to breathe. At home, I had a narrow driveway which was hard to maneuver into.
“It comes with my place.” He slid a keycard into the elevator and the light lit up indicating it was on its way to meet us. It binged and slid open, and we climbed inside. Unlike other elevators I’d been in, it didn’t smell like dead things and was almost art deco in feel. I could see why people paid a butt-ton for a studio now.
This place smelled like money.
He slid the key in again and the elevator doors closed, and we began to rise all the way up to the top floor—no, one past it. “Is this like the Willy Wonka elevator?” I was only half-teasing. We should’ve stopped already. I got that weird, weightless feeling in my stomach as we headed upwards. I was leaving one world behind and headed to another.
“No. The top few floors don’t have an indicator for security.” We stopped and the doors slid open, and instead of seeing a hallway, it opened into a foyer with a pedestal in the corner featuring the most stunning blue-and-white piece I’d ever seen. This wasn’t just an apartment. It was the penthouse.
“Is that the one from your neighbor?” I asked, my feet frozen to the elevator floor as I gawked like a weirdo.
“It is. Come and have a look.” He stepped out, leading the way.
“Okay.” Because I was suave with my one-word answers.
I remembered the beautiful story he told. “It’s stunning.”
“It is,” he agreed. “Would you like a tour of my place?”
“Sure.” I was half-hoping he meant “let me take you to the bedroom,” but he’d meant an actual tour, and it turned out that was great too. Who was I kidding? Every part of the evening so far had been great.
Rex showed me around his place from the glorious view of the river, to the kitchen that looked like it had popped out of a magazine, to the terrace that was far more than a glorified fire escape. His place was stunning. Beyond stunning.
The museum exhibit had nothing o
n his collection. He had everything from tiny little pieces to a vase that would have eaten up half my living room.
“Would you like a drink on the terrace?” he offered as I examined a vase he had in a display case. I couldn’t begin to think what the value of that one might be.
And that was when it sank in. Rex was not just successful at his work—he was rich. Like over-the-top crazy rich. What was he doing here with me?
“I’d like that,” I accepted his offer. Might as well enjoy my time here before he realized I didn’t fit into his world.
73
Rex
Standing on the terrace with a snifter of brandy admiring the city skyline was my usual way of ending each day. The river reflected the city lights and moonlight while gentle waves lapped against the bank.
But I wasn’t alone tonight. And while I’d shared my bed with omegas over the years—one or two of them were semi-serious relationships— this time was different. Jason stood at my shoulder taking in the view.
The silence between us wasn’t awkward or ominous as we sipped our drinks and allowed the cool breeze to wash over us. But going from enjoying a drink to asking if he wanted to stay the night was a huge leap, one I was certain was stupid. We’d just met. And the whole blind date app thing was ridiculous, though I’d never be that honest with my brother.
Thoughts churned through my head just as a party boat with revelers singing and dancing made its way to a jetty upriver. One-night stands could be divided into two categories. The first was where both parties had a good time and had no expectation of it turning into a relationship, while the second was when one person got hurt, thinking they’d continue seeing each other.
But I wanted to feel the warmth of Jason’s skin under my palm, trail my fingers over his jaw as he moaned, and lick round his mouth while savoring the taste of him.
Love at Blind Date Complete Series: Books 1-4 Page 26