Not-a-Date
NOT-A-DATE
CAM
When I tugged on the heavy glass door of Kicklighter Home Décor and Interiors, I was still half expecting the same old stale feel of the cookie-cutter furniture store despite what Foster had said. I had not anticipated a massive rock waterfall built into the entryway.
I stood marveling at the ten-foot-high slate with water cascading down into a crystal clear pool and realized this was not your average Pottery Barn. Each display of furniture was set up in such a way that you felt like you were walking through someone’s cozy and comfortable home.
I leaned in to check the tag on a cream-colored sectional.
$9,985.
Someone’s very expensive home.
There were dozens of people milling about and several talking with sales staff as they picked out the fabric for a chair no one would probably ever sit in.
Kicklighter must being doing something right, I guess.
“Can I help you, sir?”
I turned to see a woman with glasses and short gray hair cupping her hands and offering a smile so big it almost swallowed her eyes.
“Is Rachel Kicklighter here?”
The woman glanced around the showroom. “Goodness, she’s popular this morning. Another gentleman is waiting for her. Looks like she’s still in the back speaking with her mother, but if you’d like to wait, I can tell her you’re here, Mr. …”
“Nash.”
“Gotcha, would you like some coffee, tea, or sparkling water while you wait?”
“No thanks,” I said, waving my hand.
She scampered off toward the check-out counter at the front of the store. Even that area brimmed with sparkling chandeliers and ornate, carved wooden accent pieces to entice last-minute impulse buys.
I sank into an overpriced velvet swivel chair across from a man who tapped his foot with such vigor that he could have worn a damn hole in the floor. He checked his watch over and over and dabbed the sweat from his brow. A card and some cheap flowers sat on the staged end table next to him.
Once I got a good look at him, I recognized him immediately.
The Got Dents prick, Andrew Wentz. He looked even more like a douchebag in person. A mound of sculpted dark hair, eyebrows, and groomed beard wearing a suit. His eyes locked on me, and he stared for a moment, sizing me up. My loose linen button-down, shorts, and canvas shoes were the opposite of his stuffed-up style. I raised my eyebrows meeting his intense gaze, and he managed a half smile before looking at his watch again.
I tried to ignore the kick of anxiety spreading in my abdomen as I waited for Rachel. Five minutes ticked by, but it felt like five hours. The woman who said she would let her know I was waiting got caught helping a customer, so I decided I’d roam around a little, not wanting to sit across from The Prick, as I had now christened him, any longer than I had to.
As I got to my feet, Rachel flew out of a door with her purse over her shoulder. My chest tightened at the sight of her. The Prick also rose from the chair snatching the flowers and card off the table.
A second woman followed. She had dark hair like Rachel’s, and they looked alike enough to be twins, so I assumed that was Rachel’s mother.
I tried not to stare at the long black skirt Rachel wore with the slit that went halfway up her tan thigh and the matching short-sleeve top that exposed her midriff.
I shoved my hands in my pockets, thinking that if she was impressed by The Prick, I’d just leave and head into work.
Her face when she saw me said it all.
Her full, plum-stained lips parted, and her hazel eyes widened when they caught mine.
“Oh good, Andrew’s here,” Rachel’s mother said. The Prick shoved the flowers in Rachel’s face, but she kept her eyes firmly on me. The air conditioning was blowing, but I couldn’t help but sweat.
Rachel took a deep breath and said, “Oh good, Cam, you’re here. Ready to go?”
I swallowed, my eyes darting back and forth between a stunned Prick and Rachel. “Uh, yeah. Ready when you are.”
Now, even though I didn’t know Rachel at all, the one thing I did know was that I wanted to punch The Prick in the face when he grabbed her arm as she attempted to walk past him.
“Rachel, we are going to coffee,” he said. “I’ve been waiting.”
Rachel stopped, her face reddening.
Give her a minute .
She can handle herself, and if The Prick doesn’t let go, then you can intervene .
As I suspected, Rachel wrenched her arm free and stepped over to my side. Her bare arm brushed mine, and it sent lightning up my spine.
“I already have a date for coffee,” she said. “Cam?”
“Let’s go.” I led her to the door so I could hold it open.
Once we were outside, I opened my mouth to speak, but the words got completely tangled in my throat. “Uh …”
“Where are you parked?”
“Um.”
I can’t fucking speak around this woman.
“There.” I pointed to my Rubicon.
Rachel looked up at me and smiled, speaking through her teeth. “Is he watching us?”
I glanced at the store windows to see The Prick staring with his mouth touching the floor and Rachel’s mother standing by him with her fist pressed against her lips.
“Yep.”
What happened next would be burned into my brain for the rest of my life. Rachel grabbed my face with both hands and kissed me … hard.
There are first kisses and then there are first kisses, and this one propelled my entire body to a heightened state. She smelled like cotton candy and wildflowers. With her hands snaking through my hair, she pressed her warm body to mine, driving her tongue into my mouth. I answered with my own hungry kiss. My feet went numb, and just when I thought my head was going to spin right off my shoulders and launch into orbit, we broke apart, both releasing a gasp for air. She blinked, her cheeks flushed, and she stared at me with an expression that was a mix of confusion and excitement.
“What the hell, Rachel?” The Prick shouted, his expensive shoes slapping the asphalt as he ran out of the building.
“Rachel Renee Kicklighter!” her mother called.
Rachel snatched my hand. “Get in the car.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
We peeled away in my Jeep, and it made my day to see The Prick throw the cheap flowers on the ground and stomp on them. Rachel leaned against the window with her head in her hand.
I had to shift in my seat several times to calm myself or walking into the coffee shop was going to be real awkward. I shook off the feeling of floating above my body and blinked, trying to focus on the road and traffic around us. After a few more random turns, I finally asked, “Where are we going?”
Rachel inhaled audibly and straightened in her seat. “I need a drink.”
“It’s 9:30.”
“I’ll make it a Bloody Mary.”
“I think we should get coffee. Then we can get a drink.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rachel smile.
She sat up in the seat. “You’re less grumpy when you’re not at a wedding.”
“Definitely,” I said, turning to her when I came to a light. “Getting kissed by a beautiful woman also tends to cheer me up.”
“I’m sorry about that,” she said, glancing out the window.
“No, you’re not.”
She exhaled. “You know … you’re right. I’m not.”
“It was a nice move.” I could still taste her minty lips. I needed to change the subject to stop my thoughts from going straight to my dick. “So … who was the prick back there?”
She leaned her head back on her hand. “My ex. He and my mother conspired to get us back together this morning …”
Pay attention, dude. Stop looking at her thigh.
I cleared my throat. “We might need a drink first after all. I know a place that serves both.”
Sip and Stir near Old Town served both coffee and cocktails and the best pretzel bread in town. I paid for our drinks, and we chose a high top by the window.
“Thank you,” Rachel said after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. “For playing along back there.”
“Glad I could help.”
She sipped her latte and then her eyes narrowed. “So, why did you come by the store?”
I wanted to see you again .
Shit.
Can’t say that .
“Looking for a birthday gift for my mom,” I said, my mouth half in my Americano.
Rachel’s eyes lit up. “Oh? I’d be happy to help you pick something out for her.”
“That’s okay. I can pick something out another time.”
“Oh, come on. I’d love to find the perfect gift. I can, if you answer a few questions about her.” She reached across the table and covered my hand with hers, and it felt like the breath had been stolen from my body. I clenched my jaw in an attempt to maintain my composure.
“Not sure you can pick something out for her when you don’t know her, but shoot. What are your questions?”
Rachel wrapped her long wavy hair around her slender fingers and draped it over one of her shoulders. “What’s her name?”
“Victoria Bixbee.”
“Picture?”
I pulled out my phone, scrolled through to one of us from last Christmas and handed it to Rachel. She took out these adorable thick-rimmed readers from her bag and stared at the photo, zooming in with her fingers. “She is a knockout. This at your house or hers?”
“Hers.”
“Favorite color?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know, purple?”
Rachel glanced down at the photo. “Hmmm, not sure that’s it, but favorite season?”
“Dunno. She was always way into Christmas when I was a kid.”
“Is she more likely to drink a martini, a Cosmo, a beer, or water?”
I ran my hands through my hair trying to remember what my mom drank when we last had dinner. “She likes Manhattans.”
Rachel grinned, her gleaming white teeth reflecting the light. She handed the phone back to me. “I know exactly what she’d love. How much do you want to spend?”
I rifled through my wallet and handed her $500. “How could you possibly know what she’ll like from a few questions and one photo?”
Rachel shrugged. “It’s what I do. I have a knack for that sort of thing. I’ll prove it to you. Your mom will be over the moon for your gift, and if not, she can return it and get what she wants.”
“Sounds good.”
She leaned in. “She won’t return it by the way.”
“We’ll see.”
Usually, I made it a policy to not speak about exes, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to know why the stunning woman in front of me would date a total douche like Prick. I drank my coffee thinking that maybe something stronger would be more appropriate for this conversation. “Why does your mother want you to get back with a prick like that?”
She propped her chin on her hand. “Uh, wow, that’s a really long story.”
“Then start with why you broke up.”
Rachel’s shoulders sagged. “An even longer story, but basically, he cheated on me and apparently still feels like he should get another chance.”
“Sounds like he wasn’t good enough to deserve a first chance with you.”
“I’m aware.” She glanced away for a second, then straightened her shoulders. “Anyway, enough about all of that. What do you do?”
This was the dreaded question for me and one women love to ask up front. The four previous women I went out with who had asked me, ‘What do you do?’ had made it clear they were seeking information to see if I qualified to be on the date and pay for dinner. And after Britt decided she didn’t like that I spent my money helping to restore my community after COVID and not on her, I wasn’t qualified to be her fiancé anymore.
“A little of this and that,” was all I cared to say about my career at the moment.
“Okay. What does a little of this mean?”
“I …” I paused, not sure why I felt like I wanted to share with her. It pissed me off that I found her impossible to resist. “… own a small business off Fifth.”
“Oh, and that ?”
“Bunch of side projects that keep me busy.”
“Not going to tell me what they are?”
“Maybe I’ll show you sometime.”
She arched a delicate eyebrow. “Really? Indicating that we’ll be going out again sometime?”
“Again?” I said. “We haven’t gone out a first time.”
“Well, we are out now, and together, so …”
“This is not a date. This is you wanting to make your ex jealous.”
“Fair, but you didn’t seem to mind.”
I couldn’t hide my smile as I scratched my neck. “No, I didn’t mind.”
“And we already had a first kiss. Seems like we should have a first date to go along with it.”
“If this was a date, I would have asked you out officially and done things differently.”
Her face softened. “What would you have done?”
I shifted again as she leaned in. “For starters, I wouldn’t have picked you up at 9:30 a.m. and shared a kiss with you in a parking lot with your ex watching.”
“Our parking lot is a very popular morning date venue.”
“Is that so? Well, now that you say that, the pavement is a particularly alluring shade of charcoal.”
Her lilting laugh sent warm ripples through my body. Ripples I thought I wouldn’t ever feel again.
Rachel finished her coffee and started to gather our cups. “Well, I guess I better get back to the store since this is more like an early lunch break and not a date.”
I stopped her and cleared the cups myself. “What if The Prick is still there?”
She slid down off her chair. “Then we’ll find something stronger to drink, deal?”
“Deal.”
When I pulled back into the store’s parking lot, I paused before unlocking the car door for her. “Is his car still here?”
Her eyes darted around the parking lot. “Coast is clear.” She pulled out a card and handed it to me. “I’ll have your mother’s gift wrapped and sent, if you can email her address to me.”
“Great,” I said. “I still have a hard time believing you can pick out something she’ll love based on your little questionnaire back there.”
She turned in the seat next to me, her skirt baring part of her thigh again.
“I bet I can … no, wait. I know I can find the perfect gift. What will you give me if your mother loves my gift?”
“You have something in mind?”
She chewed on her lip. “Be my plus one for a wedding at the end of the month.”
“Uhh …” I coughed when the cool tide of blood drained from my face and started to pool in my feet. The thought of going to a wedding, even with someone as beautiful and effervescent as Rachel Kicklighter, made my insides turn like taffy being stretched on a machine. “Listen, I appreciate you finding a gift for my mom, but weddings are … difficult for me. I filled in for Zach because they were desperate, but I usually avoid weddings if I can.”
“Right.”
“I’m sorry, it’s not you, it’s?—”
She put her hands up. “It’s fine. Really. Thanks for the rescue and the coffee.”
Her brow pinched, and she tapped on the Jeep before she turned and strode inside the store.