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Much later, with me in a robe and him in just a pair of sweats, we are sharing coffee on a loveseat on the patio off the living room. Our plans for the day include a trip to a Mexican restaurant he swears I’ll love, and exploring downtown.
“Have you ever been in love, Aria?” he surprises me by asking.
I add cream to my newly poured coffee. “Not even close.”
“Not even close?” he presses.
I shrug and sink back into the cushion, facing him. “I dated here and there,” I say. “I believe I had my family business on my mind perhaps a little too much.” I leave out the part where my family business is far more complicated than my store.
“And your brother? Is he married?”
“He has a revolving door of women, but I’d be surprised if that man ever got serious with anyone.” I set my cup down. “What about you?”
“I’ve never looked for love. It’s never called to me, at all. I’ve had agreements with a few women to basically be fuck buddies, one of which went on too long for all the wrong reasons, and ended really fucking badly.”
Any curiosity I have about that woman is ended with realization and the slap his words delivers. We’re fuck buddies. Despite just having that thought in the shower, or rather using that thought to empower myself in the shower, I am now bleeding a little inside. I’ve gotten attached and did so ridiculously fast. I’m like a kid in her first real man-candy store. I got high on the sugar and he’s the candy.
He takes my cup and sets it down, scooting closer, cupping my face and tilting my gaze to his. “No. We are not fuck buddies. That’s not what I want from you.”
I’m confused and I don’t like it. I’m tired of being confused with this man. “Then what do you want?”
“All I know, baby, is I’m addicted. And if I’m honest, yes, I want to fuck you all the damn time, which is why I asked you to go on the pill. But I also want more. I want to kiss you. I want to have coffee with you. I want to talk to you. I want you with me and I have never wanted so damn much with another woman.” He stands and takes me with him. “And if you want those things too, then I want you to go get dressed so we can go get our Mexican food.”
My stomach chooses that moment to growl and loudly. We both laugh and it’s pretty clear. I’m going to lunch with him. I’m going a lot of places with Kace that all lead to one place: to that honesty thing. I have to tell him who I am. Just not this weekend. When we get home.
***
The Mexican food is wonderful and we sit and drink margaritas and munch for a good two hours. Afterward, we walk the downtown Austin area, enjoying the city in the mild October Texas weather. Before we know it, it’s nearly four, and time to head to the hotel to get ready for the evening. We’re just getting back in the car and he’s opened my door, when I realize I have a problem. “Kace, I don’t have anything to wear tonight,” I say urgently. “I have to stop by somewhere, anywhere. There were a couple of dresses in the things you bought me, but I don’t even know if they fit and none are formal.”
“There’s a personal shopper meeting you at the room in half an hour.”
“That sounds expensive.”
“Baby, I knew you needed a dress. This weekend is on me.”
“Okay we need to talk about this at some point. If we are going to keep doing this, whatever this is—”
“Then you’re going to have to get used to my money and we are going to keep doing this.”
“We are not about your money.”
“My money is a part of me and that means us, Aria. It’s not going away and neither are we. And tonight is about using my skills to make more money while doing something positive to help other people. I’m in a blessed place where I can spend money and still generously donate to charities that speak to me. Chris is in the same place, which makes these events all the more accessible to us as a team.”
I remember Sara talking about the suicide prevention charity being close to Chris and Kace’s hearts. I want to ask him about the suicide prevention subject, about what it means to him, but it feels like a heavy topic, one that shouldn’t be discussed with a tight schedule.
I kiss his cheek and climb into the Porsche.
***
Once we’re back in our room, the personal shopper, a beautiful brunette named Marcie I’d age in her thirties, is quick to join us. I don’t miss how goo-goo-eyed she is over Kace either, but if Kace notices, it doesn’t show. His attention is all mine. “Pick what you love,” he says. “Pick more than one dress. Take them all if you want them. I’ll be on the balcony making a few calls.” He kisses me and saunters away in all his male perfection.
