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Carter
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After looking at the menu futilely since I already know what I want, I set it down. I glance over to see that Elle’s already finished half her glass of white wine.
“Good?” I ask, pointing to it.
She nods, green eyes wide. “Yes, it’s really light and sweet. If I don’t slow down, I’ll be tipsy in no time!” She giggles.
I stare at her platinum blonde hair and her full lips that look cosmetically altered. Do I want Elle tipsy? We’ve only been out on a handful of dates, and she is always down for a nightcap back at my place, but she certainly isn’t someone I’m looking for in the long run.
What am I looking for?
Do I want to settle down, get married, and do the whole family thing? At thirty-five, I should know the answer to this by now. I think that’s what I want. So why haven’t I met her yet?
Or have I?
Elle smiles at me and asks me about work. I answer generically and we have a very boring but pleasant enough conversation.
The server comes to the table, delivering me my second scotch. After giving our food orders to her, I excuse myself to the restroom and freeze in my tracks when I see two women sitting at the bar laughing. I squint, cursing myself for not going in for that eye exam I’ve canceled three times.
That sure looks like Taryn. In the shadows of the hallway leading to the restrooms, I have a perfect view of the pair without them being able to see me. I stand here longer than proper and stare at the women. No—I stare at Taryn. She looks absolutely stunning in a short black skirt and a red top.
I can’t hear what they’re saying but the smile on her lips belies the sadness in her eyes. It looks heavy, and I’ve seen it before. First, on the day her brother was sent away to do time. Second, the afternoon she buried her mother.
So what’s got her so sad now? I mean, the funeral was just weeks ago, so I’m sure she’s still grieving, but it seems like there’s something else there. I continue to watch as her tattooed dark-haired friend talks animatedly while Taryn takes bites of cake and sips red wine.
Can I be so bold to sneak around to the other side of the bar so I can hear what they’re saying? Or should I stop being a complete pussy and just walk up and say hi?
No. I’m not ready for that. I stayed away at the funeral so I wouldn’t upset her further, as I know she has to be salty at me for sleeping with her and leaving her. For taking her virginity. Why she never told me she hadn’t ever done it before is beyond me. I’d seen the evidence on my dick when I went to the bathroom. The blood had stunned me. It wasn’t a lot at all, and I thought maybe she’d been on her monthly cycle. But there was none on my hands, fingers, or mouth. I’d been shocked and rendered speechless.
And then I just up and left her sleeping like a beautiful angel and I was the devil who’d taken her innocence. That isn’t something I’d forgive quickly either if I was her. It’s been five years and a selfish part of me is glad Eric is still behind bars or else he’d already mopped the floor with my ass for doing that to her.
I slink back into the shadows when Taryn’s gaze moves around the bar. Almost like she can feel me watching her. I head into the restroom to do what I had intended. Elle is waiting for me at our table, and will be wondering what took me so long.
My phone buzzes in my pocket and pull it out to see Richelle calling. I decline the call and shake my head. What can she possibly want?
After I’m done in the restroom, I go back to find our food waiting and Elle’s face colored with an expression I interpret as annoyance.
“Sorry,” I say, taking my seat and putting the cloth napkin in my lap. “I ran into an old friend.”
It wasn’t a lie, per se.
She quirks an eyebrow at me in question. “Is that so?”
I don’t care for the accusation in her tone, so I simply reply, “Yes.” Then, I pick up my fork and begin to dig into my chicken parm.
The food is delicious as always. I resist rolling my eyes back into my head as I savor all the flavors.
“How are your meals?”
I look up to see the owner looking down at me with a smile on his mature face.
“Amazing as always, Tony,” I reply. “The chicken parm is...” I put my fingers to my mouth in a chef’s kiss.
He chuckles. “Glad to hear it, Carter. How’s business?”
Tony has my app. I’d seen him at one of the many rotating club locations a few months back. His wife left him for a younger guy a couple of years ago, and I guess he’s getting back out there. Good for him.
“It’s downright amazing,” I say with a wink that Elle won’t see. She knows I own an IT company that develops apps and that’s all she needs to know.
He winks back and turns his attention to my date. “And for you, signora?”
She bats her eyelashes at him after wiping her mouth daintily on the white cloth napkin. “Absolutely delicious.”
I look at her plate to see her ravioli seemingly untouched. It’s possible she ate one, but who knows. On the past few dates with her, she’d drink all the booze and barely touch her food, taking it to-go.
“Delighted to hear it,” Tony replies to her. Then, he focuses his attention on me again. “Enjoy your meal. And try the wine special. The Aglianico is new. From Naples.”
“Will do,” I assure him.
I’m not a fan of wine—I prefer the harder spirits—but I wouldn’t mind trying his suggestion. It never fails to deliver. I summon the server over for a bottle.
When she arrives, she pops the cork. “A sample?” she offers.
I nod and hold out my glass.
Elle makes a face. “I only drink white. I’m good.”
I level a look at her. “You should at least try.” It’s five hundred a bottle.
“Is it sweet?” she asks the server.
She glances at me nervously, then says to my date. “It’s sort of earthy, but has black fruits and dried figs infused.”
Elle lifts a shoulder and holds out her glass. “I’ll try.”
Visibly relaxing, the server pours her a glass.
Elle sniffs it and then downs the whole thing in one gulp.
Real classy.
I swirl it around and take a whiff, pleased with the fruit scent but also a small hit of what could only be described as leather. I take a sip and a smile finds my lips.
“Wow, that’s super gross,” Elle says, making a face and setting down the glass.
I’m glad the server had left and Tony is nowhere in earshot.
Resisting an exasperated sigh, I narrowed my eyes at Elle. “I’m sorry you don’t like it, but maybe keep your voice down.”
She wrinkles her nose and picks at her ravioli. “Sorry, it just tastes really weird.”
I sip my wine again. While it isn’t my favorite, it’s not bad. And at five hundred a pop, I am definitely taking it home with me.
“Can I ask you a question?” I measure her with a serious stare.
She beams at me. “Sure!”
“How old are you?”
Her smile falters but she replies, “Twenty-four. Why? How old are you?”
The server returns to the table and asks how the wine was.
“It was delicious,” I say before my ditzy date can embarrass me. “I’ll take the bottle to go.”
“Oh, we can’t let you leave with an open—”
“A new bottle, honey,” I interrupt, just wanting to get the fuck out of here. Is she new?
She clears her throat. “Absolutely. Do you need any boxes?”
Elle points to her food. “I do.”
I shake my head when the server looks at me questioningly.
“I’ll be right back.” She practically sprints off.
I glance toward the bar area again. I want to go talk to Taryn, tell her how sorry I am for ditching her all those years ago. For not comforting her at her mom’s funeral.
“So, you gonna answer the question, or what?” Elle asks from over the rim of her wine glass. Guess she’s going to drink it anyway, as ‘weird’ as it tastes to her.
***
I sit at my desk the next day when there’s a knock on my door. Briana walks in holding her electronic tablet and points to my computer. “Did you see the email I sent?”
Toggling out of the program I’d been working in, I switch to email. It was dinging all afternoon with notifications, but I ignored them. Squinting, I pull up her email.
“I know you told me to get with HR about an intern but this popped up on Indeed, and she looks like a good fit.”
My eyes bulge when I see the name at the top of the résumé: Taryn Andrews. After a short blurb about herself and her education, she lists only two previous employers: Mills & Graves law firm, which she just left, it looks like, a week ago, and Barnes & Noble bookstore, where I know she was working while going to college.
I steel my expression to neutral and look over at Briana, who’s quirking a questioning eyebrow at me above the rim of her stylish dark-rimmed glasses. She looks like her dark-brown hair might pop out of that tight bun if she makes any sort of facial expression.
I clear my throat. “Thanks for this. I’ll look it over and get back with you if I think she’ll be a good fit.”
She glances at me again, dips her head in acknowledgment, and leaves my office with a quiet click of the door.
Why on earth would Taryn quit her job right after her mother’s death? Perhaps they laid her off? It says to call about the conditions surrounding her separation from the law firm. Why wouldn’t she just state she was laid off, though?
My gaze travels to the desk phone and my fingers twitch to call her. Instead, I pick up my cell phone and scroll through my contacts. I have her name and number still there, but the number on the résumé is different. I quickly replace it with this new number.
Thinking about Taryn working for me stirs something in my belly. Could I be around her all day?
I often think about the night we fucked and still feel like a tool. I tell myself we were both upset and just wanted comfort from each other. That we needed it. If I’d had any idea she was a virgin, I would have left without looking back. But then, she never contacted me after. I mean... she had my number, the phone works both ways. After a week or so, I took it as a mutually exclusive decision that we both had gotten what we wanted that night—consoling each other after the tragedy of her brother’s sentencing—and left it at that.
I just didn’t expect five fucking years to go by with complete radio silence.
I think back to when Eric and I were teens. Taryn was always there. Demanding rides to the mall or movies to meet her friends, or wanting to hang out with us. Eric always scoffed at the idea, and I always pretended to take his side, but the truth was, I liked being in her presence, even if she was a mere annoying little sister figure, she was still cute as hell.
And once she graduated high school and went off to college, she had honestly taken my breath away. To have seen her grow up into such a gorgeous woman, well, my thoughts about her completely shifted. I was well out of college and on my way to building my business and my career by the time she graduated, but I never stopped thinking about her.
That night in her condo, it felt like a dream. Like I was someone else—she was someone else. A distant stranger, yet a familiar comfort.
How could I work with her? There’s no way I’m not still attracted to her. It took everything in me not to go to her at that funeral site on that cold day. I wanted to take her home and put her in my bed and do anything and everything to get her mind off her grief. But of course, I didn’t.
And seeing her in that restaurant last night had stirred those feelings right back to the surface.
Then another thought hits me—what if she doesn’t want to work here? What if she hates my guts and laughs at my offer?
My gaze moves to the screen as I read over the rest of her résumé. I suppose I should make sure she’s qualified before I consider it. Not that I really need to. Her degree—Bachelor’s in Information Technology—is all I really need to know. She’s young and moldable. Trainable. That is, if she’s lost that damned stubborn streak.
I suppose if she was let go from the law firm, it’s a blessing. I mean, how much experience could she have been getting from fixing broken operating systems and installing new software? You don’t even need a degree to do that.
No, she would be put to work here. She’d learn app development (that wasn’t on her résumé) and all kinds of other things. Jeff will be a great mentor, he’s the rock star of our IT department.
Though, something tells me I’ll be the one who’ll want to train her... up close and personal.
I take a deep breath, pick up the phone, and dial Taryn’s number.
Why am I so fucking nervous?