Fixer: A Bad Boy Romance (35 page)

"Right, totally repulsive," I agreed, as my mind swam with the image of Carter James, sexy smiling real estate agent, thinking about my naked body.

The quesadilla sitting in my stomach shifted a little, and I winced. Maybe I could manage to do a couple thousand sit-ups between now and dinner, to try and make the naked body in Carter's fantasies a little less... blobby.

Carter pulled out his phone, and I gave him my address. "Perfect," he told me before we parted ways outside of Taqueria El Burrito. "I'll swing by and pick you up around seven."

"Can't wait," I lied brightly, as my stomach did another little nervous flip.

Chapter Thirteen

*

The rest of the afternoon, my brain kept on bouncing up and down, from highs to lows, like it was strapped onto a roller coaster. One moment, I found myself unable to keep a silly grin off of my face as I remembered Carter's enthusiastic flirting with me. The next moment, my grin turned upside down and plunged into a frown as I remembered how I still needed to come up with thousands of dollars of disposable income, how my stupid divorce still threatened, months later, to drag me all the way down to bankruptcy.

What would happen if, heaven forbid, the worst possible outcome happened, and I couldn't manage to get the money for Barry? I'd been trying not to reflect on this bleak possibility, but I figured that I should at least consider some sort of last-ditch plan.

I didn't know the details of declaring bankruptcy, but it seemed like the sort of thing that was worth trying to avoid at all costs. But then again, from whom could I borrow that kind of money? I knew that Portia didn't have an extra ten thousand dollars just lying around. I could maybe think about approaching my parents, but I even knew how much it would hurt them. My mom and dad were happily retired, but they'd worked hard for many years to save up their nest egg. That egg wouldn't take kindly to getting raided for ten thousand dollars in order to bail out their daughter for her marriage mistake.

Okay, mind off of this, onto something else. Something happier. Think about this date with Carter tonight. What would he want to do? Where would he take me?

My god, I realized, sitting up a little straighter behind the front desk at the art gallery, what was I going to wear?

I did my best to mentally flick through the contents of my closet at home as I waited for the clock to finally creep towards five o'clock, closing time. What sort of style should I be aiming to hit? Did I want to come off as a good girl, as wholesome, or should I embrace Portia's idea of just throwing myself into the sack and go with something slutty?

Even after I arrived back home, I remained half-paralyzed as I stared into my open closet. "What do you think?" I asked Salem, now sitting nearby on my bed with all four of his feet tucked under his furry body. He looked like a large black potato with a head.

Salem just yawned back at me, rolling onto his back and twisting around on top of my comforter, looking like he was in ecstasy. "Fat lot of help you are," I told him, and returned back to the closet.

I did have some little black dresses in the back, which would typically be suitable for a date like this - but, I realized with a little twinge of embarrassment, it had been quite a while since I'd tried one of them on. I was fairly certain that I'd put on at least a couple of pounds since I last bought one of those cute dresses. They likely wouldn't look quite so cute on me now.

Still, with a lack of other options, I dug them out and forced myself into one of them. Turning back and forth in front of the mirror, self-consciously sliding my hands down over the sides and my hips to smooth out imaginary wrinkles, I admitted that maybe I could pull one of these off still. They certainly didn't leave much to the imagination, especially up around the bust, but maybe that would be enough to distract Carter from how my rather plump butt stretched out the fabric down around my hips. I definitely belonged in a dress slightly larger, but maybe he'd take me somewhere dark, and no one would notice.

"This will have to do," I told Salem as I scratched him under the chin. He purred up at me, blinking his eyes in approval. At least my cat thought that I looked okay.

A minute later, he stood up and rubbed against me as I knelt over him on the bed, covering me in a fine layer of his hairs. "Jerk," I told him as I headed into the kitchen area to snag the lint roller that I kept on hand for situations like these.

As I rolled the sticky surface over my dress, trying to pull off those stubborn cat hairs, my phone buzzed on the counter. "Hello?" I said, answering it.

"It's Carter - I'm outside. Come on down."

"Should I bring anything?" I asked. "Do I need a jacket, or running shoes, or a mask, or anything like that? I don't know what you have planned for tonight."

He chuckled. "Just bring yourself. Nothing too fancy is on the agenda - nothing requiring special equipment."

Just to be safe, I snagged a light jacket as I headed for the front door. The spring evenings were usually pretty mild, but a chill still occasionally developed.

"Be good and guard the house," I ordered Salem, who had wandered out of the bedroom to watch me leave. I pointed a finger at him, as if he understood my words. "Stay out of trouble."

I locked my apartment door behind me and headed downstairs, keeping my hands pressed down against my sides so that the dress didn't rise up. Already, I kind of wished that I'd worn pants.

Right outside my apartment building, I spotted a black car, looking elegant and expensive, although I couldn't make out the make or model in the dim light. The car flashed its lights, and I guessed that this was either Carter, or a guy hoping to pick up a prostitute. I headed over, trying the passenger door and finding it unlocked.

"Wow," Carter commented as I slid into the passenger seat. His eyes ran over me, lingering on my chest for a moment before he dragged them up to my face. "You look great."

"Thanks, but I don't feel like it," I replied automatically. "I've put on a little weight since I got this dress."

"Still looks amazing," he insisted, as the car pulled away from the curb with a rumble of its engine. "Good thing you brought a jacket. You're going to distract me and make us crash if you're not careful!"

I glanced down at my cleavage on display, feeling a little better at his words. "So where are we headed? Fancy restaurant?"

"Is that where you think I'd take you?" he asked.

I tried to imagine what I'd pictured for this date. "Yeah, I was thinking somewhere with exposed wood, brass railings, brandy that costs forty dollars per glass, waiters in tuxedos, the whole nine yards."

Carter just snorted. "Well, you'll see in a few minutes."

When we pulled into a restaurant's parking lot, I discovered that I'd be eating my words. Carter had picked out a comfortable looking restaurant, the kind of place I'd consider perfect for lazing about with a pint of beer on a Sunday afternoon. Just to emphasize my outfit error, the host who greeted us at the door was wearing blue jeans.

"I feel a little overdressed," I admitted as we slid into the booth that was provided for us.

Carter smiled at me. "Trust me, you look great. A bit distracting from the meal, in fact."

"Yeah? What am I making you think about?"

His smile widened. "I'm thinking about how long it would take for me to drive to my apartment from here."

"Why- ohh." I felt heat creep up into my cheeks as I caught onto his suggestion, and I hoped that the fairly dim lighting in the place would hide my growing blush.

We ordered food, but I honestly forgot what I requested as soon as I passed the menu over to the waiter. For the night, I spent most of my time just listening to Carter. I'd hoped to be distracted from my current money concerns, and it was as if he knew what I wanted - and he did an amazing job.

"Really? You grew up poor?" I exclaimed, smiling as I took a sip of my margarita. "I don't believe it - everything about you just seems so smooth and polished, like you've always had this much money!"

Carter shrugged, looking a little embarrassed about his wealth. He did the thing where he swept his hand through his hair again, mussing it up and looking even more adorable. "I need to put on this impression for my clients. No one wants to buy or rent a property from someone who doesn't look successful. But I've had to teach myself how to act proper all on my own; I didn't grow up this way."

"So how did you grow up?" I asked, leaning forward and feeling entranced.

His eyes were drawn down for a moment before answering, caught by the almost magnetic pull of my cleavage on display. Normally, I would have quickly sat back to avoid giving him such an unabashed view, but the margarita told me to relax and give him a chance to enjoy the sights. Its voice seemed strangely convincing.

"I grew up pretty normally," Carter admitted after a minute, forcing his gaze back up to meet my eyes. "One older brother, happily married parents, little house in the suburbs. Whole deal, might as well have had the white picket fence and everything. Very solidly middle class, maybe slightly lower than average. I wore a lot of my older brother's hand-me-downs."

"And then you headed off to the big city and set your sights on riches and wealth through commercial real estate?" I guessed.

He laughed. "Not quite. I went off to college, decided that I'd become an engineer, but couldn't handle the math and the devotion. Ended up scraping through classes to earn my degree, but my grades were awful, particularly at the end. I knew that I wasn't going to land a job with that degree, so I started trying to find something to keep me from becoming homeless."

"What did you do?"

"All sorts of odd stuff, at first," he said, leaning back a little in his chair. "Tried my hand at retail, worked in a warehouse for a bit. But I was lazy and had expensive tastes, which is a really dangerous combination." He snorted a little to himself. "Hell, still is."

"So how did you find real estate?"

"Totally by accident," he replied promptly, holding up a hand like he was taking the scout's oath, making me chuckle. "I got a temporary gig setting up a property - it's called 'staging' these days. Making it look perfect and clean and like it's totally ready for someone to move in and rent it. I started asking the agent about why he had to do things like set out a bowl of lemons, and he explained that it's the little touches that instantly add another five percent to his bottom line."

"Really?" I asked skeptically. "Putting out a bowl of lemons makes you thousands more?"

"Not just on its own, but you do that, bleach and clean the carpets, make the walls a shade or two brighter, and add a bit of artwork, and yeah, it basically makes the whole place seem more appealing," he admitted. "It seems like a dirty trick, but it helps potential renters to see the property in its best light, rather than just looking at it as an empty room with no real possibility."

Carter drained the rest of his beer and set the glass down on top of the wooden table with a thunk. "But I can't go giving away all of the secrets of being a successful real estate agent to you - not on the first date, at least!" he exclaimed. "At least, if you want to drag these secrets out of me, you'll need to cover the next round!"

I grinned back at him, strangely not feeling pressure or worry about this. I was just out to have fun, not thinking about where this might lead. Focus on the moment, Becca, I told myself. "I can definitely handle getting the next round."

"Perfect." Carter pointed to the bar, not moving from his seat. "I'll take another of the same, if you would be so kind!"

I started to get up, but then paused. "You just want to check out my ass in this too-small black dress, don't you?" the margarita in me asked, temporarily seizing control of my vocal cords.

Carter just grinned back at me. "I'm admitting nothing."

Chapter Fourteen

*

"Are you sure that you're okay to drive?" I asked Carter as I leaned heavily on him, once again glad that I hadn't chosen the high heels for tonight's date. With the gravel of the parking lot under my feet, I definitely was in imminent danger of slipping and breaking an ankle, even in my current flats.

"Yeah, I stopped a couple hours so that I could get myself - and you - home," he answered, looping his arm around my waist. He felt strong and warm and comforting, and I tightened my grip around his neck.

He coughed after a moment. "Easy, don't strangle me!" he protested, pausing and turning a little towards me.

Now looking into his eyes, I just smiled happily, the whole world slightly hazy and pink and happy at its edges. Our conversation at the restaurant soon shifted from discussing our respective pasts over to just chatting about art, some of the crazy things that artists created and how things like piles of garbage could be considered inventive and valuable. In addition, as the evening went on (and the level of liquid in our glasses dropped), the flirting grew heavier and more intense, little barbs flying back and forth across the table.

"I do enjoy some of the classical sculpture, although I'm not so sold on the stuff that Onyx does," Carter pointed out, and I snorted back at him.