Dirty: The Complete Series (Secret Baby Romance Love Story) (111 page)

I looked around the park; most of the
other kids were climbing the jungle gym, swinging on the swings, or playing in
the sand, gabbing and chattering as much as the ducks or geese could. I was
sure that once the ducks lost interest in Brady—when they figured out that he
was out of treats—he’d head over in the direction of the other kids, to go
about his own playtime. But for the moment, it was nice to be able to relax a
bit, to watch him, to enjoy the sun and the murmur of the water.

“Mama?” I looked up. Brady was almost out
of grapes already, and I shook my head, grinning.

“What’s up, sweetie?” He flung a few
grapes at one of the slower ducks and caroled happily when the hen gobbled them
down. His bag emptied, he came back to me, sinking into the grass.

“The man,” he said, furrowing his brow as
he struggled to figure out how to communicate what he wanted to say. “Nice man.
Mr. Zeke?” I nodded.

“What about him?” I’d introduced Zeke to
Brady as Mr. Zeke because it seemed easiest—Mr. Baxter would have been tricky
for him to pronounce.

“He’s nice,” Brady said. He looked up at
me. “He makes you smile.”

“Does he?” I found myself smiling even
more. “He is nice, you’re right about that.”

“Is he…” He pressed his lips together. “Is
he like Daddy?” I frowned, trying to understand what my son meant.

“Like Daddy?” Brady took a breath and blew
it out through his nose—not sulky, but almost frustrated.

“He’s nice,” he said steadily. “Not like
the others.” He looked up at me. “Like a Daddy.”

“Are you asking if I like him?” He
considered the question and nodded.

“He makes you smile,” he pointed out. “You
made faces.” I laughed at his astute observation.

“I make faces at you, too, little man,” I
countered.

“But he’s big man,” he told me. “Bigger
than you.” I fought back the urge to laugh at that.

“He is,” I agreed. “Do you like him?”
Brady thought about that and then nodded.

“He gave me soda,” he said slyly. “And
cakes.”

“Oh, so you like him because he was all about
giving you treats?”

He shrugged. “Nice,” he insisted. “Likes
you.”

“You think he likes me?” Brady nodded.

“He made faces at you,” he informed me.
“Nice faces.”

I chuckled. “He’s not for me, little boy,”
I told my son. “He’s for someone else.”

“Why?” That was a good question.

“He needs to be someone’s daddy, maybe.
He’s just a client. He’s like a friend, and I’m teaching him how to be friends
with another mommy.” I was surprised at how difficult it was to explain in
terms that a three-year-old might possibly understand.

“But you’re a mommy,” Brady pointed out.
“And, you need a daddy.” I took a quick, deep breath, wondering just how much
was fair to explain to keep Brady from saying something that would be
inappropriate to his babysitter or one of the parents of his friends.

“What you mean is that I need a…” I
hesitated. “Husband. Or a boyfriend. Those are the words that mommies use for
daddies.” It was the simplest way I could explain it—at least, that’s what I
thought at the time.

“Husband?” Brady frowned, trying to
understand the new word.

“I’ll explain more another time. But I
don’t need a man to be—friends with—like that, little man.”

“Why not?” He looked over at the
playground. There were some married couples, off to the side, watching their kids.

“That’s complicated,” I told my son. “But
I don’t need a boyfriend.”

“You’re sad sometime,” he insisted,
turning his attention back onto me. “At night.” I swallowed against the dry
feeling in my throat.
Distract him. This
isn’t a good road to go down with your son—not when his father is God knows
where doing God knows what right now, not even caring all that much about him.
I took a deep breath and grinned at my sweet, thoughtful little boy.

“I’m sad sometimes, but not right now,” I
told him. “Let’s go see what’s going on at the monkey bars.”

He accepted that idea without hesitation.
We walked back over towards the playground, Brady rushing ahead of me to get in
on the action. I stood off to the side with the other parents, watching but not
too closely: he had already demonstrated that he could take care of himself on
a playground, and as long as some of the bigger kids didn’t come into the same
area, he wasn’t likely to get into much trouble.

I had known that I should expect the kind
of questions that Brady had started asking, about my love life; I had just
hoped that he might be in school before they came up. Part of my mind was proud
that my son was apparently so observant, but I was also worried. If my son
thought I needed a boyfriend or a husband, was there something he thought was
missing in his life? Had it been a mistake to agree with Zeke’s insistence on
me bringing Brady with me on the date to the mini-golf course? I sighed,
shaking my head to myself, though I kept a smile on my face in case Brady
looked over at me.

I thought about the date itself. It had
actually gone better than I had expected, and it was obvious that even without
the bribery of cake pops and soda, Brady had liked Zeke. I snickered to myself,
remembering the way that Zeke had gotten down into a crouch to introduce
himself to my son, how he’d had that cautious, careful air of a man who wasn’t
sure he knew how to relate to a small child. Once everyone had warmed up a bit,
it had gone as smoothly as any date I’d ever been on in my life, and I hadn’t
missed the fact that Brady had started mimicking some of Zeke’s
mannerisms—including his golf swing—through the course of the date. Maybe my
real mistake had been keeping the fact that I had a son secret from the rest of
my clients?

I pushed that idea aside; most of my
clients wouldn’t have been nearly so capable of interacting with Brady in an
appropriate way as Zeke had been. A lot of them that I’d worked with—past and
present—would have made the event into a nightmare of epic proportions simply
because they couldn’t remember that they were around a child. It was definitely
a point in Zeke’s favor that he’d gone with the flow and looked out for boredom
from my son.

My phone vibrated in my pocket, and I
watched Brady for a few moments longer, making sure he wasn’t doing anything
that might make a momentary lapse of attention a danger to him. He was down in
the sand with some of the other kids, involved in one of the many
incomprehensible projects they invented at a moment’s notice; he wasn’t likely
to put himself in any danger in a span of a few seconds, and that was long
enough to read whatever text message had come to my phone. I slipped my phone
out of my pocket and unlocked the screen.

I
have our next date set up, if Tuesday works for you.
The message had come from Zeke, and I felt myself grinning almost before I
realized I was doing it. I shook my head, glancing up from my phone to make
sure that Brady was still okay. He was fine—still absorbed in his playing with
the other kids in the sand pit. I typed my reply to Zeke.

Where
will the date be? Is there any particular way I should dress?
I tried to suppress the little tingle of excitement I felt, reminding myself
that it was a practice session—it wasn’t a romantic thing. We would just be
interacting together, conversing, and I would be coaching him about what he
could do differently, how he should conduct himself in a particular setting.

It’s
going to be a surprise. Meet me outside of the Burleigh Mall
.
That was definitely a novel approach, I felt a little uneasy at a surprise
date, but I had to admit that it was unlikely Zeke was going to put me in a
position to embarrass myself. Just when I was going to press for some kind of
detail—at least enough to know how to dress, apart from my usual professional
standards—my phone vibrated again, and his follow-up text popped up.
Dress however you want, we’re not going to
be going anywhere too fancy.
I messaged him back that I understood and put
my phone back into my pocket, telling myself that even if I was excited, I was
at the park to play with my little boy.

I mulled over the possibilities of a date
that would require us to meet at the mall, even as I joined Brady over by the
swings. Burleigh Mall had a bunch of restaurants, an arcade, one of those rock
wall places, and a whole lot of other attractions. As I pushed Brady on the
swings, I tried not to let myself be too excited about the prospect of my next
practice date with Zeke. After all, there was nothing between us except for a
professional relationship. He had wanted to kiss me again, but I told myself
that it was just because he was a guy, and only because he wanted to see what
he could get from me—not out of any interest in me particularly. I couldn’t
help but wonder what we would be doing together the next time we met in a few
days though; even as Brady and I played until he was so tired I knew he’d fall
asleep on the way home, I wanted some hint, some clue as to what Zeke had in
store for me. It wasn’t a feeling I’d ever had with any of my clients before,
and that—I knew—was dangerous.

Chapter
Fourteen

Zeke

Natalie was standing at the entrance to
the mall, waiting for me, and I grinned to myself as I walked up, anticipating the
fun of the idea I’d had. Burleigh Mall was the biggest mall in the state—so I’d
known when I’d planned our date that a surprise would be easy to pull off.
There were so many things we could have done just within the mall itself, but I
remembered something that Natalie had told me when I’d asked her in passing
what kinds of dates in general were best: “Simple things—you really don’t need
frills when it comes to a good date. It’s all about connecting, getting to know
someone.”

She saw me as I approached, and gave me a
little wave and a smile. “How’s Brady?” I asked as soon as I was within
greeting distance.

“He is having a great time with his
sitter. She informed me a few minutes ago by text that they’re working on a
puzzle together,” Natalie replied. She looked around quickly and then met my
gaze again. “So do I get to know what the surprise is now that we’re both
here?”

I nodded. “I’m taking you shopping,” I
told her. “Any store you want to go in, anything you want to buy.” Her eyes
widened.

“That’s…” she licked her lips and for just
a second, all I could think about was how it had been to kiss her; I pushed the
thought out of my head. “That seems a bit extreme for a practice date. Did your
PA plan this?” I shook my head.

“I planned it myself,” I replied. “And you
were the one who told me that dating is about getting to know someone, and
making a connection, right? Shopping seems like a good way to do that—you get
to talk about the things you like and don’t like, stuff like that.” She stared
at me for a moment longer.

“It seems like it could get really
expensive with someone else though,” she said hesitantly.

“It’s a practice date,” I told her,
shrugging. “I have plenty of money in the bank, and I think it’ll be fun.” I
wagged my finger at her a bit. “I checked with the agency: there is nothing
inappropriate about a shopping date.” She raised an eyebrow at that.

“You checked?” she laughed, shaking her
head.

“I did. I asked if there was a price limit
allowed on the dates that I go on with you as my coach, and they said that
there wasn’t. And I asked if shopping would be considered acceptable, and they
said it was up to me to decide how I wanted to spend my practice sessions with
you—within reason, of course.” She pressed her lips together and for a second I
thought I’d screwed up again, that she’d tell me that I’d come up with the
worst plan for an evening out together that could possibly exist.

“We can browse, at least,” she said
finally. I smirked.
I am going to find a
way to convince her to actually let me buy something,
I told myself.

“If there’s nothing you want, then of
course we don’t have to buy anything,” I agreed. “But we can at least wander
around and look, right?” She gave me a quick up-and-down look, her eyes full of
skepticism, and then she nodded.

“I can go along with that,” she told me. I
gestured for her to precede me into the mall, and took advantage of the moment
she turned around towards the entrance to take in the outfit she’d chosen; like
always, Natalie looked clean-cut, professional, but slightly casual, with a
pair of jeans that fit her perfectly and a blouse that went with it, green with
some kind of lace on the sleeves and at the hem. She’d worn sensible heels and
a bracelet on her wrist.
God she’s hot.
If the women they actually set me up with are even half as hot as she is, I’ll
be lucky.
I followed her into the mall and we started off, looking around.

“Where do you want to check out first?” I
gestured all around us, ending my pointing at the big layout display. She took
a quick breath, and I could see the wheels turning in her head.

“You’re going to hate this,” she said,
grinning at me. “I want to look at a couple of things for Brady.”