I pulled my hand from Derrick’s.
“What do you mean?” I asked, buying time, debating if I should tell him the truth, and what to do if he already knew.
Derrick didn’t answer, only stared at me with those sharp eyes.
“I’m staying at his wife’s apartment while she’s away,” I said. Not a lie. “Would it be a problem if I was seeing him? Or someone else?”
“No. You can see and do what you like. I didn’t mean it like that.” Derrick smiled, and the tension faded. “But you’ve been hanging around each other a lot. I’ve known Jackson for years, and he typically keeps to himself at work. So I took notice. That’s all.”
“I ran into Kat and him one night when I was at the office late. I mentioned to Kat that I was about to be homeless and she offered her apartment since she was going away for a month. Jackson and I have been sorting out the details and it’s sort of made us friends. Or acquaintances. It’s hard to tell with him.”
Derrick nodded in agreement.
“I told HR about you and I going out,” I said, moving the conversation away from Jackson. I’d emailed Prathi the day I’d confirmed the date with Derrick.
“I know.” He sucked on an ice cube, then crunched it with his teeth.
“Does Prathi tell you every issue that comes her way?” I asked, holding my breath.
“Hardly.” He crossed his arms. “It’s that way on purpose. Employees would be less likely to speak to HR if they thought the boss was being told everything. If a situation comes up and I need to know about it, she’ll tell me. I’m entitled to know everything but a layer of privacy helps the employees feel secure.”
My finger circled the ring of water on the table left behind by the rim of my glass.
“Is something bugging you?” he asked.
“I saw something the other night at the office,” I said.
“What?” His face was neutral but curious.
“I saw Isaac and Brody together.”
I didn’t like keeping a secret about his partner, which may not be a secret, but I needed it to be out in the open between us. I remembered what Jackson said about trust and vulnerability.
Derrick relaxed into the seat. The band tuned their instruments before playing a lilting Cole Porter song.
“Oh, that. Isaac told me. We had a big sit down with Isaac, Prathi, Brody, and me about a week ago. But don’t say anything. Brody and Isaac don’t want anyone to know. It doesn’t look good.”
“We’re dating,” I said. “How does that look?”
“You’re a paid employee. It’s different.” Derrick slid across the booth until he was next to me. “Why, are you worried about this?”
His arm grazed mine and my hair stood up. Warmth radiated from him and I had the urge to sink into his side.
“Brody messaged me. He seemed concerned like he didn’t want me to talk to Prathi.”
“Are you sure it was HR he was worried about? Was it something else? Memory’s a funny thing.”
“I’m pretty sure. Hold on.” I tapped the messenger app, but when I opened my chat with Brody, it was gone.
“That’s weird.”
“What?” Derrick leaned close. My stomach flipped, his face close to my cheek.
“It’s gone.” I turned to him, and his lips were an inch from me.
“Strange,” he whispered, his eyes on my mouth.
My belly clenched, heat ricocheting between us. He tilted forward and his lips pressed to mine, warm and soft.
“I’ve wanted to do that all night,” he said softly against my mouth.
I lowered my chin, blushing.
“Was that okay?” He sounded worried.
“Of course. I liked it.” I shyly met his eyes, a zing of excitement ripping through me.
His lips covered mine again, and his tongue grazed the seam. I couldn’t believe I was in a bar, making out with Derrick Jacques. My eyes fluttered shut, and I sank into the kiss. Our silky tongues slid together in a dance and my skin tingled. Derrick’s hands dug into my hair, and I was pulled out of my thoughts. The kiss wrapped around me like a warm blanket on a cold night.
It was nice to kiss Derrick who had no ulterior motives but to be with me. I took his hand and guided him under my top. I wasn’t wearing a bra, and he sucked in a sharp breath when his hand scooped over my breast.
It was a bold move and I wouldn’t have done it before my session with Jackson. I guess it was giving me confidence.
“Scandalous,” he whispered into my ear.
Desire skittered over my skin and landed in a pool between my legs. His mouth moved to my neck and I tilted my head back, urging him to continue. There wasn’t much we could do in a semi-public booth, but I wanted a taste of what was to come.
I moved my hand over his muscled thigh, feeling braver than I’d ever felt with a guy. I continued up the coarse denim of his pants, and in a daring move, I placed my palm directly on his crotch.
“Don’t.” He shot his hips back, my hand falling away.
“Sorry.” I shifted away from him, embarrassment chilling my desire. “I should’ve asked.”
It was clear his body hadn’t responded to me. Despite our making out, he’d been soft under his pants.
“No, it’s…” He looked at his empty drink, furious. “I’m… er, drunk,” he finished, lamely.
I sucked down the rest of my drink, hiding the wobble of my chin. Every bad experience I’d ever had with men hit me like a fret train. I scooted from the booth, making an excuse that I needed the bathroom. In the stall, I fumbled with the lock, but it wouldn’t latch. I kicked the door, and screamed, sucking down breath after breath, willing myself not to cry.
Chip said I was awful at blow jobs and Derrick couldn’t get hard feeling me up. Derrick only drank one gimlet and he appeared sober when I met him for the date. There was no way he was drunk.
My heart beat fast, but my breathing had calmed. I rested my forehead against the stall door, but I couldn’t stay in here all night. I’d already been a jerk running and hiding in the bathroom.
Fuck.
Derrick must be humiliated. For whatever reason, his body hadn’t responded, and when I’d realized it I’d shut down and left him there. I was a total and complete asshole.
I wiped mascara from under my eyes and walked back to the table. Derrick was staring into his empty glass, his shoulders slumped.
“I’m so sorry,” I said as soon as I sat next to him. “That was a shitty thing for me to do. To run away like that.”
He huffed out a sardonic laugh.
“It’s fine.” He put cash on the table. “Let me take you home.”
We walked out into the hot night, the air moist and heavy. His shoulders were hunched, embarrassed. It was strange seeing this strong, confident man kicking himself.
“Derrick, look at me.”
He did, his night-dark eyes hooded.
“On a scale of tripping down stairs in front of people to shitting your pants, I’ve been on the shitting your pants end of embarrassment many times. What happened in there was barely above tripping. So please, forget about it. I like you. I want to see you again.”
His demeanor lightened and he leveled his eyes to mine.
“Thanks for that, Peyton,” he said. “Next time I’ll take you out for a proper dinner.”
“I don’t care what we do. I’d just like to see you again.”
He cupped my cheek and kissed me gently on the lips. He asked to walk me home but I told him I’d be fine. When he was out of sight, I hailed a cab uptown.
I needed to salve my wounds and I knew exactly the person to do it.