by R. J. Lewis
A.W.: I’m looking for an excuse to see you. It’ll be innocent.
Ivy: I don’t trust you, Mr West. You got a little too close at the salon.
A.W.: Can you blame me? You’re irresistible.
Ivy: You deserve a little punishment for those not so innocent touches.
A.W.: You would punish me?
Ivy: I want to drop you to your knees.
A.W.: I’m already there.
Ivy: Maybe on your hands and knees, then.
A.W.: It’s like you keep moving the goalpost, thinking it will deter me. I’d crawl through needles just to see you, Ivy.
Ivy: Tempting, but I’m busy.
A.W.: Are you at home?
Ivy: No. I’m out.
A.W.: What are you doing?
Ivy: My, my, you really want to know.
A.W.: I do.
A.W.: God, I want to know everything you’re doing.
Ivy: I’m finishing up a lesson. It’s just me, my coffee, and a shitty wifi connection.
Fourteen
Ivy
I read the conversation from twenty minutes ago again. I bite my lip, holding back a smile. He doesn’t respond, like I expect. Aidan’s like a kid when he doesn’t get what he wants. His way of throwing a temper tantrum is nursing a wounded ego by stewing in silence.
I sort of like it. I like getting to him and drawing out those emotions. As horrible as it may sound, it’s nice having the upper hand every once in a while. I can’t always be the desperate girl hanging on to every word, making myself overly available.
Besides, I’m still trying to get over him being at the salon a few days ago.
Not too long ago I was close to being the next girl thrown under the bus. Now the girls want to be my best friend. Even Melanie has been at my beck and call, fetching me supplies in the middle of my appointments.
“Just so you know,” she’d told me, voice lowered, “I’ve grossly misjudged you, Ivy. I think you’re essential to this salon.”
Even Connie backed that up that very morning. “You are essential to this salon.”
I was essential to that salon.
I let out a chuckle and take a sip of my coffee.
My phone dings and I swipe the screen.
A.W.: What’s so funny?
I freeze mid-sip. My head shoots up and I look around. This is a Mom and Pop coffee shop and filled with regulars. If Aidan is here, he’d stand out like a bullseye –
He’s at the counter, talking to Nadine, the owner’s daughter. He's making an order.
My heart hiccups. I quickly run my fingers through my hair and fluff it up around me. Summer is ending and it’s been cool outside, so I’m wearing my everyday black tights and a pink crop sweater. If I had known he was coming, I’d have worn something far more flattering.
My last conversation with Ana on the phone runs through my memory. I’d let her know about the salon visit. She was over the moon. “I’m still reeling that he’s in deep with you, but I totally get it after seeing the kind of people that were in his life.”
“What people?” I’d asked, curious.
“The guy’s been seen with these elegant looking women. One of them put up an Instagram post a while back, gloating that she’s moved on to greener pastures and is sunbathing in Monaco in the nude. I think she was salty he wanted nothing to do with her.”
“Oh.”
Yeah, oh. That was my response. Because I’d had no insight before into the kind of women he was interested in dating.
“Don’t sound deflated,” Ana had consoled me. “He’s obviously not interested in that because look at you.”
Ouch. I know she didn’t mean for that to sound mean. Ana is too nice for that.
As Aidan waits for his order, he looks at me, a cocky glint in his eye. I stare back, rolling my eyes at him. He smiles in response. Customers are staring. He’s doing that thing again, dominating the space around him. Only Aidan can fill out a suit, look muscular in it and broad. Even his hands are sexy as he drums his fingers on the counter with one hand and brushes his thumb idly along his bottom lip with the other.
Fuck, he's hot.
I resume finishing off my study list, pretending I am not at all bothered by his presence. But I am. I am pulsing right now.
He slides into the chair across from me. I take a moment, reading a line three times in a row to stall. Then I drag my eyes away from the iPad screen and look up at him.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” I ask.
“Was in the neighbourhood,” he answers lightly.
My brows shoot up. “Wow, that’s been happening a lot lately.”
“Yeah,” he nods. “I definitely did not cruise this street for fifteen minutes, poking my head in every coffee shop.”
I play along. “You would never.”
“I’m not so desperate.”
Grinning, I set the iPad down. “You’re lucky I’m done, Mr West. I may have dismissed you otherwise.”
He looks amused. “Another discard?”
I pretend not to know what he’s talking about. “Has that been happening a lot lately?”
“Only by you.”
“How does that make you feel, Mr West?”
“Humble,” he says on a smirk.
I keep my eyes away from his mouth. It’s too distracting. “Humble suits you.”
“Good, because I’ve been going for a new look.”
I narrow my eyes, fighting back a laugh. “I don’t believe you. I think you’re showing up on purpose.”
He feigns surprise. “Now why would I do that?”
“You want to tempt me.”
Now his face relaxes. He licks his lips, looking down at my mouth. “Ivy, you’ve been taking the lead lately. I’m simply the passenger.”
“Oh, so I’m the one tempting you?”
“Yes. In fact, that’s what I’ll call you. Temptress.”
He’s fucking me up, this guy. If he genuinely feels as tempted as I do, I need to high five myself. I fight to show my giddiness, though.
“Fine,” I relent in a bored voice, “you can call me that, but only if you give me a heads up next time that you’ll be hunting me down and forcing me to endure your company.”
His eyes flare. “Forcing you, am I?”
“Too strong a word?”
“No, because I don’t give a fuck. I’m here and you can’t hide behind your screen and pretend you’re unaffected.”
I tilt my head to the side. “You just want to know you’re getting to me.”
“Am I right to think I am?”
“You won’t get an admission out of me, Mr West.”
He grins, watching me intently. “You won’t admit I make you go crazy, but you’re happy to drop hints of your location.”
My lips part in surprise. This guy. “You thought I was dropping hints? Were you born this arrogant, or did you learn it along the way?”
“You love it.”
“I’ll be sure to be vaguer next time.”
He leans over the table, lowering his voice. “It’s more fun this way, isn’t it? I’m tired of wondering what you look like. Tired of waiting for your texts. Tired of staring at your lips in that picture you sent me and wondering what they taste like. Fuck, they must taste like sunshine. I need to see you more, Ivy. Tell me I’m not alone in this.”
Heart attack.
My cheeks burn, but I shrug dismissively. “You’re pretty good company, I guess.”
He makes a groaning sound, looking pained. “You’ve gotta give me something, beauty. I’m fucking panting over here.”
“Now why would I do that?” And then I use his words against him. “It’s more fun this way, isn’t it?”
The look he shoots me next is so coated in longing, it sears me.
I am in desperate trouble with this man. He’s come out of nowhere, hunting me down so he can stare at my lips like he is right now. He wants to taste them. Oh, my God. I am fighting the urge to leap across the t
able and give him what he wants.
Get your shit together, woman.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I say now, sliding out of the chair. He tenses, like he thinks I’m going to bolt. If he only knew how wobbly my legs are. “I’m going to get myself a muffin to munch on.”
AKA, I need to slow my pulse down.
I don’t wait for his response. I go straight to the counter where Nadine is standing and watching. Her face breaks into a smile when I approach.
“Hey, Ivy,” she greets.
“Blueberry muffin, please, Nadine,” I say, sneaking a quick glimpse in Aidan’s direction. I see the back of his head, and it’s turned, staring out the window. He’s holding his coffee in one hand, tapping it with his index finger in thought.
“That’s Aidan West, isn’t it?” Nadine then asks, ringing my muffin through. She looks over at him, too, her eyes bright.
“Yeah,” I confirm, and it’s so weird that I’m hanging with a guy everyone knows.
“I didn’t expect him to be so composed, Ivy.”
My brows come together. “Really?”
“Well, I’ve heard so much about him. He’s got an asshole reputation. Extremely arrogant, extremely cold, but…he was perfectly sweet when he ordered his coffee.” She bites her lip, looking thoughtful. “Tabloids truly are junk news, hey?”
“They love their drama.”
"He looks at like you're the sun setting after a long day."
"That's awfully poetic of you to say."
She laughs. "It's true, though. He's absolutely smitten. Wow. I'll never believe social media again."
It's impossible not to feel curious. Ana kept dropping little bits of information, and now Nadine is telling me he was known to be an asshole.
I pay for my muffin and return to the table. I stare down at it nibbling, aware I’ve got his immediate attention. I think eating a muffin in front of him was a mistake. He’s watching my mouth, tapping his finger faster now against that cup.
“I keep hearing a rumor about you, Mr West,” I start.
“Do tell,” he responds, voice low.
I keep my eyes pinned to the muffin. “Apparently, you’re a jerk.”
His chuckle surprises me. “We knew that already.”
I look at him. “You bite people’s heads off a lot.”
He’s amused. “When they deserve it.”
“I also heard you got out of a very messy relationship.”
Eyes are on mine. “Been looking me up, Ivy?”
“No. Ana can be very informative when she wants to be.”
He leans back in his chair, expression hidden. “I wasn’t in a relationship, Ivy. I just fucked with the wrong woman.”
“Always so blunt.”
“You appreciate my bluntness.”
“I do,” I agree. “There’s a lot of mention about that, by the way. You and women.”
He doesn’t seem bothered by my words. “What’s your question, beauty?”
“No question, just confirming the rumors.”
He studies my expression, trying to gauge my reaction. “I’m a single man,” he tells me. “I appreciate a beautiful woman and I enjoy sex. I indulge in these when I have the time.”
I simply nod and return my gaze back to my muffin. I want to ask him if he’s been with a woman since we’ve been talking. It wouldn’t be wrong if he had, but…I want to feel like what we have is different. I’m too scared to ask, though. I’m bold when I want to be, but I know my boundaries.
“Cumulatively, I’ve been with a lot of women,” he adds now, his voice lowering so that only I can hear. “But not anywhere near the amount they’ve carried on about, Ivy. I’ve poured most of my energy into my company, especially the last couple years.”
“I don’t know what they’ve said about you. Regardless if I did, you don’t need to explain yourself.”
“It matters that you know I’m not a manwhore.”
“I didn’t say you were.”
"The way I talk with you is different."
"You haven't talked to a woman the way you've talked to me."
"Never."
My heart beats faster.
He drops his playful expression. He looks suddenly troubled, like he’s bothered of what I think of him. To be honest, I don’t care if he’s been with a lot of women. It only matters that he’s clean and not hung up on one.
“When I have time, I prefer to see my grandmother and brother,” he continues.
That’s a perfect subject changer. I use it straight away because I don’t want to dwell on his sexual history. He might want to know mine, and that isn’t a topic I’m in the mood to discuss. “How’s your brother? You said he was straying off the path the last we spoke about him.”
I think he’s relieved to be talking about something else. “He’s an adult. He can do what he wants.”
“Maybe he’s begging for attention.”
Aidan looks unphased. He shrugs. “I found my way when I was his age just fine.”
“You don’t spend a lot of time with him?”
“No, unfortunately. We were always in very different stages in our lives.”
“Do you see your grandmother often?”
“I visit her as often as I can.”
“But not that often.”
He frowns. “No.”
Who does he spend time with then? Who are the regular people in his life? Why does a man who should be surrounded by friends and family and anyone he desires prefer to spend his precious time crashing a boring woman’s study session in a coffee shop on a Friday evening?
Every time I’m in his company, I’m trying to understand why I’m worthy of his presence. I don’t like that I do this. Where is my self-worth? You need to earn it back, the tiny voice in my head whispers. You need to heal.
“I think I need to get out of here, Miss Montcalm.”
I pull away from my thoughts. “What? Why?”
“The girl at the counter keeps staring at me, and I think my presence is offending that old man in the corner who looks like he’s about to kick my ass.”
I turn my head to the man he’s referring to. It’s the owner, Rob, and he does look like he’s going to kick Aidan’s ass.
I laugh. “You’re messing up his feng shui.”
“I mess up every man’s feng shui,” he says on a smile. “You’ll notice that soon enough.”
He stands up, towering over me. He looks down at me, smiling. My insides are mushy at the dimple in his left cheek. He’s going to leave and I’m going to spend the next hour recovering from this exchange. Rinse and repeat.
However, he extends his arm and offers me his hand, surprising me. “Come with me, Ivy.”
I stare at his hand for a long moment, my heart beating faster now. I stop thinking and take his hand. He pulls me up and leads me out of the coffee shop and onto the busy streets.
“Where are we going?” I ask, trying to keep up with his long strides.
“We have the city at our feet,” he answers, face bright like he’s excited. His energy is infectious. “You have anywhere you need to be tonight?”
I shake my head. “No. You?”
“Just here,” he says, piercing me with that smoldering look. “With you.”
His sexy sportscar is parked nearby. He opens the door for me, and I slip in, feeling giddy. As he rounds the car, I shut my eyes and let out a quiet squeal. I can’t believe this is happening. I’m so fucking lucky. The door opens and he slides in next to me.
“Got everything?” he asks, looking at me with a broad smile of his own. Oh, my God, is he just as excited as me? I think so. I suddenly feel so fucking humble he wants to spend this time with me.
I feel for my wallet and phone in my pocket and then wave my iPad. “I got everything.”
He leans over, his shoulder bumps into me and the smell of his shampoo and cologne is in my nose. It’s delicious like him. He opens the glovebox and takes the iPad from me. He slips it inside and clo
ses it back up. He catches the look on my face, and he must be able to read me, because he smiles so big.
“Let’s enjoy each other’s company,” he whispers to me, eyeing my mouth. “I want to see you laugh, Ivy Montcalm. I want to give you a good time. Tell me what I have to do to accomplish this.”
My smile is so wide, my cheeks hurt. “I think you’re doing just fine already.”
“Good.” He moves away and sits straight in his seat.
I don’t know what it is about watching a beautiful man in a suit drive a powerful car that makes my pulse jump. It’s sexy as fuck. He drives through the city, going in a particular direction. I look out the window, watching the streets pass by. We’re on Bank street, and the sidewalks are alive with people. We aren’t going far fast. There’s a lot of traffic in front of us. He finds a parking spot across the street from the Rideau Canal, a picturesque waterway that people frequent all the time, and slides in. We’re a couple blocks away from Lansdowne Park, a popular entertainment district.
He turns off the car and we step out. I don’t ask him what we’re doing. We walk in the direction of the Canal. It’s packed with people chasing the night life and I’m having to sidestep so I don’t bump into anyone. It’s getting cooler by the hour. Summertime really is behind us now as I catch people in their sweaters and light jackets.
I feel Aidan’s big hand wrapping around mine. He pulls me to him and wraps his arm around my shoulder, keeping me from bumping into anyone as they pass us. My face presses against his suit jacket. I shut my eyes briefly, enjoying the feel of his hard chest. As the crowd thins, he lets go. We’ve crossed the street and the Canal sidewalk is wider. We’re still close, our arms are bumping into each other as we walk. If I wanted to, I could feel his fingers against mine, but I don’t.
“See those funky looking houses?” I ask, pointing across the river. On the hills in the distance there’s an assortment of homes that look funky. “I’d rent one of those if I could.”
“I didn’t know you were a hippy, Miss Montcalm.”
I laugh. “There’s not one cookie cutter house, Mr West.”
“Not a suburban girl?”
“I like a bit of character.”
He’s eyeing the homes now as we walk, smiling softly. “I like that.”