Dirty: The Complete Series (Secret Baby Romance Love Story) (118 page)

Chapter
Twenty Two

Zeke

I stepped forward in the line at Breaking
Day Café and looked around me. I had to admit that in spite of the fact that
Natalie had canceled our practice date, I was feeling pretty good. Even if I
couldn’t get her out of my head, I was moving forward. I was asking women out.
I’d taken her advice to heart: dating was at least partially a numbers game,
and if I asked enough women on dates, I would eventually find someone who was
willing to take a chance on me. I grinned to myself, remembering the feeling,
the sight, and the sounds of the best sex of my life—with Natalie. I took a slow,
deep breath, trying to push down the rush of heat that flowed through me at the
thought of it.
At least you know that
when it comes down to it, you can get a woman off,
I thought.

I spotted one of the regulars a few spots
in the line behind me, Brigitte was someone I’d talked to a couple of times
while we both waited for drink orders, and I had always liked her—a little bit,
at least as a person. She was obviously heading into work, dressed in a navy
skirt suit with a pale pink blouse underneath. She’d pulled her blonde hair
back into some kind of bun, which briefly reminded me of Natalie—but the hair
color was totally different. I stepped forward in line again as the person two
spots in front of me finished their order and came to a decision: I would ask
Brigitte out. If she said no, it wasn’t like it would be the end of the world.
If she said yes, I figured we could at least enjoy an hour or two at a
restaurant over a meal.

When it was my turn at the register, I
smiled at the harried-looking teenager running the till. “Two things,” I said
to the girl. “First, take a deep breath. You look like you’re about to
crumble.” The barista met my gaze and took a slow, deep breath, smiling
slightly.

“Sorry,” the girl said, her cheeks
lighting up with pink. “This is my first week here.”

“You’re doing just fine,” I told her.
“Fortunately for you, my order is very, very simple.”

“I’m ready for it,” the girl said,
sounding more cheerful than she had for several minutes.

“I’d like a medium latte with an extra
shot, light on the foam,” I told her. That was my order.

“Anything else?” I glanced over my
shoulder at Brigitte.

“Yes, actually,” I told the barista,
leaning in a little closer to her. “Do you see that gorgeous blonde woman about
two or three people behind me in line?” the barista looked and then nodded.
“I’d like to order for her: one large, extra hot latte, with two squirts of
hazelnut syrup.” The barista nodded and tapped on her screen. She told me the
total and I handed her a twenty. “Put the rest in the tip jar,” I said with a
grin when the barista would have given me my change.

I stepped off to the side and waited,
watching as the two people between myself and Brigitte took their turns. I could
feel my heart beating faster in my chest as Brigitte stepped up to the register
and began to order. The barista glanced at me for an instant and told the
blonde something—presumably that I’d already ordered and paid for her. Brigitte
turned around, looking at the line in confusion, and spotted me. The barista
said something else and Brigitte walked away from the register, looking dazed
but pleased.

“You bought me my usual?” Brigitte looked
up at me, her bright eyes gleaming slightly.

“I thought it would be a nice thing to do…
Are you going to tell me that you’re horrified at my presumption?” I thought—I
hoped—that I’d taken Natalie’s lesson about gifts for women I wanted to date
the right way.

“No,” Brigitte said, her lips twitching in
a smile. I hadn’t really seen her up close in a long time. We mostly just saw
each other in passing, usually with a few people between us leaving or coming
into the café at the same time. “How have you been?”

We made small talk for a few moments while
the people on the bar made our drinks, and called them out. “Brigitte,” I said,
as we both stepped up to claim our drinks. “I was wondering: would you like to
grab dinner sometime?” She looked startled, but not unhappy, and I felt my
heart beating even faster in my chest with the hope that this would be the
magic number that would get me a date of my own—not a practice date, not a pity
date, not a professional date, but an actual, real date.

“Sure,” she said after a moment. She
smiled up at me. “Let’s get out of the flow of traffic, and I can give you my
phone number.” I grabbed my latte and gestured for her to step out in front of
me, where the traffic was a bit thinner for the busy morning rush. We stopped
at one of the few empty tables, and I took out my phone. Brigitte recited her
phone number twice, and I showed her the contact page on my screen to make sure
it was accurate. “Now send me a text and I’ll have your number, too,” she
suggested.

In a matter of moments, I’d made a
tentative date with her to have dinner in a few days’ time. I told Brigitte
that I’d text her with more details once I had a reservation for something
after seven in the evening, and we parted ways. I wanted to throw up my arms in
victory. I wanted to tell the guy I walked past, leaving the café, that I’d
actually managed to get a date. But that was ridiculous—I knew better than to
do anything like that.

I walked the last few blocks to the
office, still buzzing with the feeling of having actually gotten a date for
myself.
Maybe having sex with Natalie
took away whatever needy vibe you were giving off before,
I thought, riding
the elevator up to the floor my office was on. The thought reminded me of
Natalie, and of the fact that she’d had to cancel a practice date with me.
Katie had been clear that I would still be doing my practice dates with my
coach while I was seeing other women that I found for myself—and to be honest,
I didn’t want to stop seeing Natalie, even if I had gotten a date of my own. I
would need her input.
If it weren’t for
her, I might not have thought of that move—buying Brigitte’s usual order for
her as an opening,
I reminded myself. I was sure that Natalie would have
plenty of advice for the finer points of going on dates, too, and I’d want her
feedback once the date with Brigitte happened.

Then, too, I just wanted to see Natalie
again. I got into my office and dug my phone out of my pocket again. She
should—I hoped—be up already, but I didn’t want to assume, so I sent her a text
message. If she wasn’t awake, she could give me a call when she was.
We need to reschedule our practice date,
I wrote. I hesitated before sending it, though—we were supposed to be
professional, but we’d already crossed that particular line, and I didn’t want
Natalie to think I was being too brusque.
How’s
Brady? I hope he’s feeling better.

I set my phone aside and tried to focus on
my work: there were reports to read, proposals to check on. But in the back of
my mind, I kept waiting to hear my phone buzz, to tell me that Natalie had
texted me back. My skin tingled and crawled with anticipation.

Finally, when I was just starting to relax
into my work, I heard my phone vibrating on the desk. I reached out and
snatched it up without even really looking at the screen when I unlocked it.
The message notification opened; it was a reply from Natalie.
Brady is feeling much better! Did you want
to call and reschedule?
I glanced at my computer monitor—my work could
wait.

I called Natalie, sitting back in my chair
and waiting while the phone rang once, and then twice. “Hey, Zeke,” she said as
soon as the line connected. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell her that I’d
actually managed to get a date on my own, but something made me stop short of
actually saying it.

“So, what does your schedule look like for
next week?” Normally, Natalie was supposed to run her own schedule around her
clients—she’d told me so, when we were just getting to know each other—but
since it was a re-schedule, I didn’t want to plan anything and then find out
that she already had a session booked for that time.

“I have Wednesday and Thursday free,” she
said. “What did you have in mind for our date? Or is it going to be a
surprise?” I thought her voice sounded a little weird, a little subdued, maybe.
But that might have just been the early morning hour—I could easily believe
that she normally had more relaxation time, even with a rambunctious child.

“We’re going to be going to laser tag,” I
told her. “I figured it would be fun. What do you think?”

“That sounds great,” she replied. Once
more I almost told her about the café, about Brigitte, and about the fact that
I had another date to plan—a real date, at that. But I pushed the thought out
of my head.

“So Thursday is good for that?” I
scribbled a quick note to put Trevor on the job for scheduling it, making it
happen for me. “You’ll be able to get a babysitter? I think that Brady might
still be a bit young for laser tag.”

“I agree,” she said, and I thought I heard
her smiling, finally. “I can definitely make it Thursday at about seven.” She
didn’t sound as excited as I’d hoped she would, but then again, I reminded
myself, she had probably not been awake for very long, and she was probably
preoccupied with Brady’s morning routine.

“Okay, I will see you then.” I stayed on
the phone just long enough to exchange the usual pleasantries before telling
Natalie that I had to get back to work. In the back of my mind, I couldn’t help
but wonder if maybe I hadn’t been quite as good in bed as I’d originally
thought. Maybe the reason she was less than excited about our practice date was
that I’d made her feel uncomfortable.

You’re
definitely going to have to talk about it,
I thought,
turning my attention back onto the work in front of me. I knew that I probably
shouldn’t have pushed that boundary, but in the moment, it had seemed so
completely right—and Natalie had gone right along with me, at least as far as I
could tell. She had been amazing. I thought about that moment between us over
and over again ever since it had happened. I took a deep breath and made myself
think about Brigitte instead. That was a much more productive way to be
distracted. I’d tell Natalie about my date with Brigitte after it had happened,
and I would make things count with the woman who was actually interested in
me—not the one who was professionally attached to me. I pushed the thought of
Natalie out of my mind, and got to work with the resolution to make things go
the way that they should without fighting them.

Chapter
Twenty Three

Natalie

I could feel my heart beating faster as I
pulled into a parking spot at the laser tag place that Zeke and I had agreed to
meet at. “Zeke, we need to have a very serious conversation,” I said, glancing
in the mirror. I had been rehearsing in my head what I was going to say and how
I was going to address the situation. “I won’t say that the—the sex wasn’t
good, because it was, but that’s actually an even stronger reason for why we
can’t ever do that again.” I took a deep breath. My hands were shaking on the
wheel.

I had gone through all the possibilities
that I could think of in my mind; that Zeke would attempt to blackmail me into
continuing to have sex with him, or that he would try and make a play on my
emotions, or that he would be irritable and aggressive in his defensiveness. It
had been so long since I’d had to really give any guy that kind of talking to
that it was difficult for me to even imagine how it would play out, but I knew
that I had to draw a line in the sand, and I had to enforce a boundary. Much
though I liked Zeke—and much though the sex had been amazing, even better than
it had ever been with Alex—I couldn’t let it continue. My job was more
important than any fling.

I took another deep breath as I shut off
the engine and checked my makeup in the mirror. I had been careful not to look
too casual or too sexy—at least, as best as I could—but I still wanted to look
professional and put-together. I touched up my lip color and grabbed my purse,
trying to convince my pulse to slow down a little bit. Why was I so nervous? It
wasn’t just because experience had taught me that men, in general, would react
poorly to being “rejected.” It was because it was Zeke in particular that I was
enforcing a boundary with. There was some part of me that almost didn’t want to
have the conversation at all; some part of me that wanted to leave whatever it
was we had to say unsaid, and just hope for the best.

But that wasn’t possible. I pushed my
shoulders back and walked towards the entrance where I’d agreed to meet Zeke for
our date. After a moment, he appeared, and I was almost certain that my heart
was going to pound its way right out of my ribcage. “Hey, Zeke,” I said,
forcing myself to smile as casually as possible.

“Good to see you again, Natalie,” he said,
moving closer. He leaned in to kiss me on the cheek and I felt my body go stiff
with the sudden fear that he was going to go for my lips instead—and that I
wouldn’t have the moral courage to prevent him from doing it. “Something
wrong?” He straightened, looking down at me with concern on his face.

“I just…think…we need to discuss what
happened between us,” I said, taking another deep breath as surreptitiously as
possible.