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Chapter Three
Payton
“Who was that?” AJ asks as we take a seat beside each other at the largest table in the café.
“Who?” I ask casually.
“Seriously? Who? Ummm, the hottie with his eyes on you. Don’t pretend you didn’t notice. Grandma has twenty-eighty vision and she could even see those invisible sparks.”
“What hottie? What did I miss?” Grandma says from behind, startling me in my chair.
“Some guy was checking Payton out,” AJ tells her in a sing-song voice.
“Ahhh, Payters. Do you want me to go get his number for you?” Grandma asks, taking a seat at the end of the table beside Grandpa. Of course, she says it loud enough to catch the attention of everyone at the table. I can feel the heat creep up my neck and land squarely in my cheeks.
“No, Grandma, I don’t need his number,” I reply while reaching for the glass of ice water in front of me.
“Back in our day, we didn’t have those phones. When we liked someone, we had to ask their parents if we could court their daughter,” Grandpa adds.
“Psssh! The only courting you did was in the backseat of that old station wagon,” Grandma hollers over the noise in the café. Pretty much all commotion and activity inside the restaurant stops instantly. Cue that blush again.
“I loved that ol’ car,” Grandpa says with a chuckle.
“Anyway, if you’re too shy, Payters, I’ll go flag down the hottie and get his phone number for you.” All eyes turn towards me.
“No, thank you, Grandma. I’m good.”
“There’s no substitute for the real thing, Pay. No amount of toys can satisfy a woman the way a man can.”
“Jesus, we haven’t even taken our seats yet and we’re already talking about penises?” Ryan says, holding out an empty seat across from me for my sister Jaime.
“Or lack thereof,” AJ says. “Grandma was getting ready to school Payton on the differences between a vibrator and the real deal. Apparently, Grandma’s an expert.”
“I am an expert. I’ve been playing with one since I was old enough to drive a car. I’ve seen my fair share of meat sausages, girls. Big ones, little ones that curved to the side. Once, I even saw a black one that was bigger than my forearm.”
And cue the choking on my water. AJ tries to pound on my back, but she’s too busy laughing to really help in the matter. Ryan is trying to hide his laughter behind his menu and poor Abby looks like she’d rather melt into the floor and disappear. Everyone else is fighting their own battle with laughter. The only person not surprised by Grandma’s blunt comment is Grandpa. In fact, he seems completely unfazed at all the penis talk–especially since a good chunk of it wasn’t pertaining to his.
“Can we talk about something other than penises in a family-friendly café?” I beg.
“Like that man who was making moon-eyes at you?”
“You didn’t even see him. How do you know he was making any kinda eyes at me?”
“I know these things, Payter Potater. I’m Grandma.”
She says it like that’s supposed to be a good enough reason, and because I don’t have the energy or the desire to fight her on it, I let it go. Of course, she thinks she’s right and that’s why I’m not fighting back. The fact is, I don’t want to draw more attention to the man who makes my pulse quicken and my panties melt. I’ve spent four amazing nights with him in the last six months, but no more.
I can’t.
We practically work together in a sense, and it’s a line I can’t cross. My business means everything to me, therefore you don’t diddle where you eat. Or in my case, you don’t diddle where you work–again. That one time was a mistake. An amazing, fantastic, orgasmic mistake. One I won’t make again. I still have a hard time looking at that stainless steel workstation without recalling the feel of that cold metal against my bare chest while he made me scream his name not once, but twice.
And let’s not forget the fact that my front windows are all open to the street. Thank God he had enough sense to turn off the lights in the front of the flower shop before sliding his dick inside me from behind.
I shudder at the memory.
I swore that would be our last time. Hell, I said that after the first night. And the time after that. Next thing I knew, we’d spent four different nights together. Besides that one night at my business, one that spilled over to my place later, we’d always met up at my house. Hell, I don’t even know where he lives. All I know is that we’re linked professionally, and therefore, shouldn’t have engaged in sex. Not once, and definitely not four times.
“You feeling okay? You’re all flushed?” Jaime asks from across the table.
