Fool for Him (Foolish at Heart Book 1)

by R. C. Martin

  “He’s twisting my words,” he countered before giving Geoffrey a sidelong glance. “What I said was, maybe we should talk to him. If this Jude guy is making you uncomfortable, I’m more than happy to take a trip to his office.”

  “Oh, Andy, no. It’s okay. Really,” I insisted, reaching out to give his arm a reassuring squeeze. “He’s not making me uncomfortable. I just—”

  I glanced down at the flowers pressed against my chest, then over at Tuesday’s arrangement peeking out from behind the reception desk. Wednesday’s delivery had gone home with me the night before and was keeping company with the peonies that were still holding on from the week prior. I had no idea what I’d do with the bouquet in my grasp—and the thought that this could go on indefinitely was crazy.

  “I’m sorry if this is bothersome,” I apologized. “I know I need to talk to him—and I will. I promise.”

  I was avoiding him. That much was obvious. Whether or not it was an effective tactic was up for debate.

  “Freckles, that man wants a hell of a lot more than a conversation.”

  I threw a glare Geoffrey’s way, but he only smirked at me in response. Rolling my eyes, I shifted my gaze back to Andrew. “Like I said, I’ll talk to him. Soon.”

  He studied me for a moment and then asked, “You’ll let me know if you need me to go kick his ass?”

  Giggling, I nodded and replied, “I’m sure that won’t be necessary, but yes. Thank you.”

  Andrew winked at me, gave my shoulder a squeeze, then headed toward his office. Heaving a sigh, I made my way behind the reception desk. After I set aside my flowers, I dropped down into my chair and stared at them. Geoffrey stood beside me—half sitting, half leaning against the desk as he stared at me. Neither of us spoke. We didn’t have to. I knew what he wanted. He knew I knew what he wanted. When I couldn’t avoid it a second longer, I reached for the little envelop and pulled out Judah’s note and business card.

  CAN’T STOP THINKING OF YOU.

  JUDAH

  I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth and handed Geoffrey the note, not even bothering to look at him. I couldn’t. I knew he’d see right through me—see the way my blood was suddenly rushing through my veins faster than before. I was certain his best friend X-ray vision would find the butterflies in my stomach, which fluttered in an excitement I couldn’t control. I didn’t want him to know.

  Sunday, after I dreamt of Judah all night long, I dragged Harper to church with me. I was never one to attend consistently. I didn’t want people to know me. I didn’t want them to see my scars—but every once in a while, I needed to be within the hallowed walls of a cathedral. I needed to hear the choir singing with the organ in the balcony. To me, they always sounded so angelic; they reminded me of the peace I only ever found in God. And God—God always centered me. He reminded me I was worth so much more than I ever believed.

  What Judah wanted from me, I wasn’t ready to give. I wasn’t sure when or to whom I would ever feel comfortable enough to offer up my body. After Justin, after he stole what I might have offered him had he given me more time—had he given me the choice—it took me a long time to understand and accept that my body was still mine to give away. It was in the church that I learned God made me; that my body was a vessel; that it was a gift given to me, and it was mine to give away—no one else’s.

  It had been four years since I was robbed of my sense of worth and self-ownership, and I had come such a long way. I wasn’t ready to give that up—no matter how handsome the invitation. Yet, in the same breath, I couldn’t deny Judah made me feel things I never felt before. He excited me in a way that made me feel like a real woman. A part of me was intrigued by him—by his desire and his relentless attempts at keeping my attention. It felt incredible and risky in equal measure.

  “Can’t stop thinking of you,” Geoffrey read aloud. He hummed, and I peeked up at him to find him smiling. “Thinking of you. Still thinking of you. Can’t stop thinking of you… Come on, Teddy, admit it—there’s a part of you that isn’t calling him because you like his attention. You don’t want it to stop.”

  I pulled the vase closer and buried my nose in the bouquet as my cheeks grew unbearably warm. The truth was, he wasn’t entirely wrong.

  “Teddy!” He stood, grabbed my chair, and spun me so I was facing him. “It’s me, baby girl. Tell me the truth.”

  I wasn’t ready. Though, as I stared into his blue eyes, all I saw was his loyalty. I knew he loved me, which made him biased—but he was also mature enough to be my objective half when I needed him to be. He had a way of making me see and understand what my blinders or my emotions wouldn’t. It was for this reason that I hadn’t opened up to him about how I felt. I hadn’t even told him about everything that went down Saturday night. I knew he’d make me confront my feelings when what I really wanted to do was hide from them.

  I freed a sigh of defeat and offered him a nod. Geoffrey sat in the chair next to mine and leaned his elbows atop his knees. He then stared at me, waiting for me to speak.

  “He’s charming. Over the phone and in his notes, he’s the gentleman he professes himself to be. I’d be lying if I told you I wasn’t flattered that a man like him was interested in girl like me.” I spotted the scowl that would wrinkle Geoffrey’s brow before it manifested and shook my head before he could say a word. “Don’t even start. He’s thirty-one, babe. Plus, he’s successful and gorgeous and mature in a way guys my age just aren’t. He drinks scotch for crying out loud.”

  Geoffrey snickered and shrugged his shoulders in a sign of agreement. I took this as my cue to continue.

  “While it’s true I’m flattered, while I admittedly adore the level of commitment he’s invested in pursuing me—I see his end game. He’s as dangerous as he is attractive. And I don’t mean that in a bad way. I don’t feel threatened by him at all. What I said to Andy is true. He doesn’t make me feel uncomfortable. He…”

  “He…what?”

  “Nothing.” I shook my head and swept a bit of hair behind my ears. “Never mind. I just mean—”

  “Oh, no, no, no,” he said with a laugh. “How does he make you feel, Teddy?”

  I sealed my lips closed, refusing to entertain his question. When his smile grew wider, I knew he’d used his best friend X-ray vision. What he said next only confirmed it.

  “Fuck,” he laughed. “You’re not afraid of him trying to get into your pants. You’re afraid of yourself letting him into your pants.”

  “Okay!” I exclaimed, snatching the note from his hand. I took it, along with Judah’s business card, and tossed them into my purse. “We’re done talking about this.”

  He laughed all the more, leaning back in his seat as he folded his arms across his chest. “No need, baby girl. You told me everything I need to know.”

  Geoffrey stared at me for a moment, and I forced myself to appear completely unaffected. Finally, he stood and pressed a kiss on top of my head. I jerked away from him, annoyed how he read right through me. He didn’t seem to mind.

  “Let the man take you out. Live a little, Teddy—you might enjoy it.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Andrew leaned across the top of the reception desk, dangling a shiny, new piece of metal. “All right. Here’s your key to the building.” With a wink, he added, “This is long overdue.”

  “Thank you,” I hummed, accepting his offering. Immediately, I reached for my personal set of keys in order to include my latest addition.

  “Now, you’re sure you can handle this?”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. He’d never let me close the gallery alone before. I’d seen him and Geoffrey do it about a thousand times, so I wasn’t the least bit worried. Even more, I’d been alone in the gallery plenty of times. I didn’t mention it, though. I knew Andrew was just being Andrew.

  “Yes, I’m sure. Stop worrying,” I insisted.

  “Andy, we’re going to be late if we don’t leave now. Friday night rush hour will start any minute. T
eddy will be fine. Let’s go.” Geoffrey flipped his wrist in dramatic fashion, checking the time before he lifted his eyebrows expectantly.

  My two artsy men had been invited to an art exhibition at a gallery in Denver. It was actually quite a big deal that they were invited. Andrew said it meant MTA was being recognized as a gallery of note in the Northern Colorado region. I knew he was both excited and nervous to be attending as the owner of a business he built from the ground up.

  “I’ll only be alone for three hours,” I reminded him. “I know the alarm code, I have a key, and I have both of your numbers programmed in my phone. Everything will be fine. Would you just get out of here already?”

  He studied me for a moment, his hazel eyes searching for some sort of confidence. I knew when he found what he was looking for when his expression softened and he offered me a nod. “You’ll call—”

  “Oh, for Christ’s sake,” grumbled Geoffrey. He marched toward Andrew, grabbed his arm, and began to usher him toward the door. “We have to go pick up Carrie,” he told me from over his shoulder. “I’ll have to deal with both of them acting this way when they leave Steven with her parents. Her parents! As if they don’t know what the hell they’re doing.”

  I giggled and waved. “Have fun tonight!”

  “Send a picture of those flowers when they arrive,” he said with his own parting wave.

  My smile slipped a little, my stomach clenching in nervous excitement. I’d forgotten about the delivery that had yet to arrive. In truth, I was starting to believe it wouldn’t come. It was getting late, and all the other flowers had arrived well before the time of day in which I found myself. I wasn’t sure what it meant, but I knew it was best if I didn’t read into it. I tried to convince myself it didn’t matter.

  Realistically, I had no reason to be surprised if he’d given up. Judah sent flowers for two weeks. The last three bouquets resulted in nothing but silence from me. For all he knew, I could have thrown them all away. I hadn’t, of course. I would never. No one had ever made me feel as special as he did.

  Then again, he’s also capable of making me feel like nothing more than a piece of ass.

  A couple entered the gallery, effectively pulling me from my thoughts. I got up to greet them, and it wasn’t long before we were lost in conversation. I showed them around, in hopes of helping them find something eye-catching. When another person came through the door, I excused myself from their company. To my relief, there was a steady flow of traffic through the gallery until around six. When it grew quiet, I wished it stayed busy. The lack of activity gave my mind the freedom to wander.

  From my seat at the reception desk, I admired my red tulips and my arrangement of sunflowers, calla lilies, roses, and hydrangeas, all the while thinking of Judah. He was confounding to me. Every time I walked away from him, I feared it would be for the last time. I couldn’t fathom why I found the possibility to be so disappointing, considering what the man was after. Even so, it was a feeling I couldn’t shake.

  My body seemed to have a memory of its own. My face, my hands—they were not quick to forget what it felt like to be touched by him. My chest and my belly recalled the flurry of excitement he aroused with nothing more than his intent gaze. He made me short of breath, and there was something romantically magical about that. Though, regardless of how my body responded to Judah, I had managed to shut him out. As the day drew to a close, it was obvious he’d given up. That was surly what he meant by no flowers.

  He’s probably found someone else to chase.

  When my phone alerted me to the time, exactly at seven o’clock, I freed a sigh and tried to shove aside thoughts of Judah. I headed for the front door to lock up, then went through the motions of closing down the gallery. It took me about fifteen minutes, since I went back over everything twice—just so I could tell Andrew I did.

  As I was getting ready to set the alarm, I heard the first drops of rain as they pelted against the front windows. I glanced down at my outfit and frowned. I was wearing a sleeveless white dress, the eyelet hemline hanging just above my knees. My pink blazer was lightweight, the cuffs rolled up my forearms; and the shoes I was wearing were my favorite pair of yellow platform heels. They were a gift from Harper, and they weren’t exactly meant for running—but I didn’t have an umbrella.

  If there was one thing I knew about a Colorado rain, it was that it could last for fifteen seconds, ten minutes, or an hour. I was too hungry to chance waiting it out; and as I stood there, the rain started to fall harder. With a groan, I resigned myself to the fact that I’d likely be a soggy mess by the time I made it to my car. When I thought of the warm, dry sweatpants I’d slip into upon reaching my apartment, that was all the encouragement I needed to make a break for it.

  I set the alarm and then scurried outside, locking up behind me. It only took me a couple minutes to walk briskly to my car. After I managed to get myself inside, I tossed my keys and my purse into the passenger seat with a sigh. Fortunately, I wasn’t completely drenched, but I was starting to get cold. Even still, instead of starting my car right away, I decided to shoot Andrew and Geoffrey a text, letting them know everything was fine. It wasn’t until after I searched through my purse that I realized everything wasn’t fine. My phone wasn’t inside.

  Staring out the rain-covered windshield, I could picture exactly where I left it—on my desk. Well aware I couldn’t just leave it there, I cursed myself under my breath, grabbed my purse, and climbed out of the driver’s seat, back into the rain. Out of force of habit, I locked my door from the inside, then slammed it shut before hurrying in the direction from which I came. Upon my arrival, I frantically dug through my purse in search of my keys. When I couldn’t find them, I gasped and turned away from the door.

  “Fuck,” I muttered.

  My keys were in the passenger seat of my car. My car that was locked.

  I sealed my eyes closed tight, more irritated with myself than I had been in a long time. I was so confident I could handle closing the gallery by myself, I hyper focused on the major tasks and completely tossed aside everything I knew to do habitually. Now, with my phone locked in the gallery, I had no way of getting ahold of anyone. Even if I borrowed someone else’s phone, I knew it wouldn’t help. I didn’t have any phone numbers memorized. Not a single one.

  I leaned against the glass of the front door, allowing my head to drop back against the barrier as I muttered aloud, “Actually, that’s not true.”

  There was one number I had in my head. My phone number from when I was a kid. My parents made Harper and me memorize it before we started kindergarten. For reasons that could only be explained by science—science that was completely useless to me in the moment—I was certain I would never forget that phone number. Except, even if I thought my parents could be of help, they got a new number when Harper started high school. The same number I didn’t need to memorize, as it was programed in my phone.

  With the rain still pouring down on me, I stared into the gray sky and accepted the fact that I wasn’t getting inside. At the very least, I needed to seek shelter while I figured out what the hell I was going to do next. I pushed myself away from the door and hugged my arms around my chest as I hurried down the sidewalk. Along the way, I cycled through a few ideas.

  My first thought was to call a lock smith. That possibility was shot down quickly when I realized I likely didn’t have the funds for it. Geoffrey was in possession of all my spare keys—to my car, my apartment, and my mailbox. I knew it would be hours before he returned home, but I wasn’t sure I had much of a choice. Fortunately, I did recall the nice old lady who lived in the condo across the hall from his. I reasoned if she was home, she would surely take pity on me and let me squat at her place for a while. Only, I really had no idea how long a while would turn out to be. The fact that Andrew and Carrie left Steven with her parents meant they would be gone longer than they trusted their usual sitter.

  I was dripping wet and running out of ideas when I ducked into a l
ocal coffee shop on the corner of the street. I plopped down into the nearest chair with a sigh, dropping my purse on the table in front of me. Offhandedly, I wondered how long it would be before I became the source of a puddle. I imagined the staff having to put one of those caution—wet floor signs out beside me.

  I groaned and smeared the raindrops on my cheeks with my fingertips. I needed to come up with an idea, not throw myself a pity party. With that in mind, I willed myself to focus. In a matter of seconds, Sarah popped into my head. Little Bird Café was only a couple blocks away. Biting my lip, I thought my way through this new scenario. I figured I could wait out the rain and then walk over there to see if she was working. If she was, she could give me a ride to Geoffrey’s place. If she wasn’t—her fiancé was a cyclist who rarely drove to the shop. That, I knew, wouldn’t be helpful, but it was the best plan of action I had in my arsenal.

  The idea of waiting out the rain, sopping wet and completely stranded, soured my mood. Remembering where I was, I decided a warm cup of coffee might help make me feel better. It was when I dug through my purse for my wallet that I saw it. Judah’s business card. With all the floral deliveries, I’d accumulated a little stack of them—but this one made its way into my purse.

  Coffee temporarily forgotten, I pulled out the small piece of stock paper and stared at it for a minute. At first, I couldn’t tell if I was being mocked or saved. I tugged my bottom lip between my teeth and bit down in contemplation. I felt pretty desperate, but I wasn’t sure if I was that desperate.

  Logically speaking, the phone number I held in my hand was my best bet. Sarah, Brandon, the old lady who lived across the hall from Geoffrey, they were all just possibilities. Judah, on the other hand, was a concrete chance. At the very least, he was a ride—even if I had to sit outside of Geoffrey’s door until he got back.

  A small voice in the back of my mind reminded me my afternoon didn’t come with any deliveries from Judah—which meant his Friday night would probably involve another woman; but I refused to believe that meant he wouldn’t help me if I asked. Accepting that the rain hadn’t slowed, and I hadn’t made much progress toward a realistic solution, I made up my mind. I couldn’t stay in the coffee shop all night.