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"If you wanted to be a really good girl, you could tell me what happened that night at the club that made you freeze up and start avoiding me." I'd been trying to get the answer out of her for weeks, but every time I did, she froze up. This time was no different.
"I can't."
"Can't or won't?"
"Maybe a little of both." She took a step back and dropped her hands from my waist. "It was just a lot of different things."
"So you've said." It was more or less the same answer she gave every time I'd asked. Normally, I'd do the sensible thing, take the hint and drop it, but I just couldn't. It was driving me crazy.
"It's true," she answered, lifting her shoulders into a shrug.
"All right." I wasn't getting any further this time than I had the dozen other times I'd asked. Whatever had happened, she clearly didn't want to talk about it, and I didn't want to take a chance at ruining what was shaping up to be a very lovely evening. "Are you sure you'll be good if I leave?"
"Can I handle my own sleeping kid for a few hours and then pick the others up from school by myself? I think I'll manage."
"Oh, great. I'm obsolete," I joked.
She rolled her eyes. "Go. I'll see you at six."
"Can’t wait.” I leaned down to press a kiss to her cheek before grabbing my coat from the rack by the door and all but skipping out. I couldn't wait for tonight.
Jasmine
A few hours after Gia's initial call, I stood alone in my living room for the first time in weeks, waiting impatiently for Bain to arrive. And thinking that maybe a romantic dinner for two in an empty house without the safeguard of kids around wasn’t the smartest idea, when keeping Bain at arm’s length was my main goal. I knew I was asking for trouble, but I couldn't bring myself to be mad about it.
I told myself it was just a simple thank you dinner with a friend who'd dropped everything to help me out of a jam, but I spent the short time I'd had since he left taking a long bubble bath, washing my hair, shaving my legs and pussy, and even doing a face mask that had been sitting in my bathroom cabinet for ages. I put on makeup—a full face—and dressed up in a flowy summer dress I'd worn the last time we did a family picture.
At the last second I fretted that I'd gone overboard, that I was trying way too hard, making nothing into something it wasn't, and especially into something I didn't want it to be. I considered changing into jeans and a nice sweater and cleaning the makeup off my face. I thought about it for too long, apparently, because before I could make a decision either way my doorbell rang at six on the dot.
Crap. Crap. Crap.
I held my breath as I swung the door open, hoping I wasn't overdressed. The minute I saw Bain I knew I'd made the right choice. While dressed casually, he was immaculate as always, in a pair of designer jeans that likely cost more than my monthly grocery budget and a gray cashmere sweater. Loafers that I knew had to be made of the finest Italian leather graced his feet, and in his hands he held a bottle of wine that looked expensive, and a bright bouquet of mixed flowers. His smile beamed when he held the offerings out to me. "For the beautiful girl."
When anyone else called me a girl, I bristled, but when Bain said it, it felt like a compliment. A blush rose up my cheeks as I took the flowers. "Thank you. I'll just find a vase and put these in some water."
I walked toward the kitchen and Bain followed me. It wasn't until I crossed over the threshold from the dining area I used as an office into the kitchen that I realized my mistake. I'd forgotten the most important part of the evening: the dinner I promised to make him. "Oh, I um…" My mouth was suddenly dry, and I was tongue tied. "I got so wrapped up in getting ready I forgot to make dinner." I slapped my forehead at my own stupidity and almost dropped the vase I'd grabbed from under the sink. "What an idiot I am," I muttered as I filled it with water and trimmed the stems of the bouquet before dropping the whole arrangement into the vase.
"Stop it." Bain grabbed me around my waist and pulled me close to him. It was a move he'd made countless times, but this time I swear my heart stopped beating. "It's okay. You were busy. We can make dinner together. Besides," he pulled back and eyed me, his gaze doing a slow roam up and down every inch of my body. "You're worth the wait."
"I—" I cleared my throat, momentarily unable to speak. "Thank you." My heart raced as I flitted around the kitchen, grabbing ingredients and equipment as I tried to put space between us. Wherever I went, Bain was right behind me. I grabbed the lettuce, he grabbed the tomato. I got a knife, he got a cutting board. I found croutons. He found dressing. Potatoes were scrubbed and stabbed, wrapped in foil and put in the oven.
Bain grabbed the steaks out of the fridge. "How did you want to do these?"
"I…uh…" I absentmindedly wiped my hands on the side of my dress. We'd made dinner together several times. Why did this time feel so different? There was an intimacy between us I couldn't seem to shake off no matter how hard I tried. "There’s a small grill on the back patio. I can do it."
Bain didn't seem the type to grill on charcoal, if at all. If he owned a grill, I knew it had to be some top-of-the-line smoker that had a hundred different functions and cost thousands of dollars. I reached for the package of steaks, but he turned and started for the back door.
"Do you have a barbeque lighter?"
"It's on the patio with the charcoal." I was intentional to use the word charcoal. I wanted him to remember I was poor and simple and he was out of his element, but he just grinned and turned, heading out the door.
"Excellent," he called over his shoulder.
I worried for a moment but decided to let it be his problem. He probably wanted to impress me as much as I wanted to impress him, for reasons I didn't want to give too much thought to.
With him out of the kitchen, I finally felt like I could breathe, like he'd been using up all the air and I could finally relax and catch my breath. Resting my hands on my knees, I doubled over and gasped for air.
Why, oh why had I thought this would be a good idea? It was entirely counterproductive to my mission of keeping my feelings friendly and holding him at arm's length.
