Unwanted Fate (17 page)

I pull out my new phone and text Emily that I’ll be there in a few minutes, and she quickly replies she’s ready. The drive to her apartment from the florist takes eight minutes, and I pull into a vacant spot next to her SUV. I check my breath in my hand and pop a breath mint to make sure my breath smells good, and get out of my car, heading to her door.

A small porch covers the old, metal faded door to her apartment, and I knock on the metal door and wait for her to answer. I can hear her unlocking the chain lock and deadbolt, and she opens the door. I have to bite my lip to prevent myself from gasping at her radiating beauty. The blue dress she has on fits her in all the right places, showing off her curves and long legs. I’m sure I look like an idiot standing here, staring at her.

“Hey,” is all I can get out.

“Hi. Want to come in or go?”

“If you’re ready, we can go ahead and go.”

“I am; let me grab my purse off the couch.”

She walks in and I stick my head in, looking around her apartment. I watch her as she bends over, showing a lot of her toned, tanned legs as she grabs her purse. She turns around and catches me watching her and she blushes. She makes her way to the door and I step out of her way so she can shut and lock the door.

“I hope you like Mexican.”

“It’s my second love behind Chinese.”

“Good. I think it’s my favorite. I could eat it anytime.”

“Me too.”

We make it to my car and I open the door for her, waiting to make sure she’s inside before I shut the door. I walk around the car, feeling nervous. I can stand in front of people worth billions of dollars and not break a sweat, but when it comes to Emily, I can’t even think about her without my palms sweating. My stomach is doing that jittery thing. I hope she likes what I have planned.

On the drive to the restaurant, we make small talk and the jitters slowly fade, but my hands haven’t caught up with my stomach. I pull into the parking lot and find a spot close to the door. I turn off the car and get out, hoping to help her with her door.

By the time I’ve made it around to the passenger side, she has the door open but hasn’t got out. I offer her my hand and she looks up and smiles. She places her hand into mine and gets out of the car. I don’t let go of her hand and instead, intertwine my fingers in hers, and walk into the restaurant.

We don’t have to wait long for a table and as soon as we sit down, chips and salsa arrive at the table. Not in a rush, we make small talk over the menu, and decide we both want shrimp fajitas. I guess I won’t have to worry about my breath later, I think to myself.

Ten minutes after ordering, our very hot and sizzling food arrives to our table. With all the excitement and noise, it’s hard to hold a conversation. After the food cools and half of it’s gone from the skillet, we can talk again.

“Those were amazing,” she says as she pushes her plate away from her.

“I have to agree. Are you saving room for dessert?”

She looks at me horrified. “There’s no way I could eat dessert after eating that.” I chuckle at her expression.

“Okay, doggy bag?”

“Please, if you don’t mind your car smelling like Mexican food.” She laughs.

“Not at all.”

We finish our drinks and I pay the check while she is freshening up in the restroom. Now to move onto the second part of the date, the bookstore and coffee shop. She makes her way to our table.

“I’m all set if you are,” I say before she sits down.

“I am.” She smiles and picks up her to go box.

I put my hand on the small of her back as we walk through the restaurant and out the door, and I take her to go container and replace it with my hand. When we get to the car, I pop the trunk and put the container in a box I have in the trunk, and walk her around to the passenger door to let her in the car.

The drive to the bookstore is quiet but the silence in comfortable. I reach over and gently grab hold of Emily’s hand and put her hand in mine and pull it over to my leg, and smile at her when she looks over at me. A red light stops us, so I pull her hand up to my lips and kiss the back of her hand. Her skin is so soft to the touch and smells so good.

“A bookstore,” she asks as we pull in front of the large building and a coffee shop.

“Yes, I was hoping you’d introduce me to some of the books you read.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes,” I wink at her, “maybe I’ll learn a thing or two.”

“Uh huh…” She smiles as the blush creeps up on her face and her reaction makes me curious to how sexually experienced she is. “It’s fun to try things you’ve read about,” she says as she curls her tongue on her lip, moistening them. Oh, she’s a little vixen.

“With the right partner too, I bet.” I think I should get out of the car or I’ll be practicing with her, sans a book.

“Mmm. We might want to head inside.”

“I’m fighting the urge to make you the happiest woman—”

“On earth tonight,” she says, giggling. “Nice. Excuse me, but I think I dropped something.”

“My jaw.”

“Who knew Patrick Matheson knows cheesy pick-up lines,” she says through her giggles.

“Who said they were cheesy. Some of them work.” I deadpan. “Kidding.” I wink at her.

“Just when I think I have you figured out, you reveal a little more about yourself then I have to try to figure you out all over again.”

“Is that good?”

“Yes.” She smiles and her eyes twinkle with delight.

“Good.” I place my hand at the nape of her neck and pull her in for a kiss. Her lips are soft and I tease them with my tongue, begging for access of her full mouth. She willingly opens for me, and I consume her, making her breathless. I slowly pull out of the kiss and rest my forehead on hers.

“Ready to go in?” I ask as I try to catch my breath.

“If you are,” she says, softly.

“I’ll be around to help you out.”

I turn off the car and get out, making my way to help her out. I grab her hand and don’t let go as it fits perfectly in mine and they feel like they belong together. This woman is undoing me…I don’t know what it is, but I like it. I like that I want to touch her, breathe her in, and make her mine.

I
’m lying in bed half awake and my cell phone buzzes with several text message notifications. Who would be texting me at this time of the morning. Rolling over to the edge of the bed, I pick up my phone from the nightstand, looking at the notifications when my eyes can focus on the letters. I guess it’s not that early as my phone reads a little after eight.

Patrick messaged me a few times after he dropped me off at twelve thirty, I hadn’t been out that late for a while, telling me he had a good time and letting me know he made it home okay. Both made me happy. I wonder when our next date would be?

I read the messages and they are from department stores letting me know about their holiday sales, I was hoping they were messages from Patrick. I put the phone down and get out of bed. I need to shower and breakfast out sounds good. I stumble as I walk into the bathroom, and I wake up when I hit my elbow on the door jam. Ouch. After cursing like a sailor, I get underway with my morning routine.

Before I leave, I call Mom to see if she wants to meet up for breakfast. I haven’t seen her since last weekend and I’m kind of worried about her since she was upset yesterday. I try calling her and it goes to voicemail. I don’t leave a message. I wait a few more minutes and call her again. Voicemail again. Maybe she’s getting a shower? Perhaps. I call again and voicemail. I leave a message this time. I guess I’ll be going to breakfast alone.

I head into a little hole in the wall place not far from campus. They have amazing coffee and huge omelets. I don’t mind going in there because alone because normally there are lonely college students in there studying or eating.

The diner looks to be slow with I arrive and I sit at my normal table facing the outside. I order my usual two egg omelet and two pancakes with coffee and orange juice. I pull my phone out of my purse to see if my mom has called back and she hasn’t, and I go to turn off my phone but it vibrates with a new text message.

P
ATRICK:
How to do you feel about golf?

I can play, decently. You have to when you work for a non-profit.

M
E:
I like golf. Do you have a long putter? ;)

The waitress brings me my drinks and I sip on my coffee waiting for his reply to my attempt to be naughty.

P
ATRICK:
Saturday. Tee time is 9:10. I’ll pick you up at 7:30 for breakfast and golf.

He totally ignored my putter question.

M
E:
It’s a date.

I’m kind of bummed he didn’t reply to my naughtiness.

P
ATRICK:
Bring your A game.

I’ll show him A game. More like C game.

M
E:
Smack talk, huh? Remember basketball a few weeks ago?

P
ATRICK:
I let you win so you’d like me.

Really? That’s what they call that.

M
E:
Oh, Mr. Matheson. I’d have liked you even if I’d have lost.

P
ATRICK:
Good. I won’t feel bad about beating you at golf then.

M
E:
Make sure your balls are clean.

Wonder what his comeback will be for that?

P
ATRICK:
You are talking about golf balls, right?

The waitress brings my food to the table, and it looks amazing.

M
E:
Talk to you later. I need to eat.

P
ATRICK:
Okay. Talk later. And yes, I have a long putter. ;)

Oh. My. I can feel my cheeks slightly blush as I squirm in my seat because our little tease session turned me on. I fan myself with my hand, trying to quell my raging hormones, as it’s been a while since I’ve had sex. This time of year is insane with writing grants and clothing kids for school, and they consume my life.

I take a bite of pancake and syrup runs down my chin, and I use my fingers to wipe it off and lick the syrup off my fingers. I feel someone watching me and I look up and see this guy sitting at a table across the diner from me, entranced with my movements, and he becomes embarrassed when he sees that I’m looking at him.