Chapter Nine
Georgia slunk into the kitchen and stared at me suspiciously. “Why are you whistling? Why are you up so early? Why are you happy? What have you done with the real Dean?”
I swung around to face her, a broad smile on my face. “Morning, my beautiful Georgia. Do you want some coffee? Anything else? Breakfast? Massage?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Seriously. What’s going on? You’re freaking me out.”
I shrugged. “What, I’m not allowed to be happy?”
She circled me warily. “You were at work till late. I heard you come in. Now you’re up at”—she paused to check her watch—“eight in the morning. You must have had like six hours’ sleep maximum, yet you’re full of the joys of spring. Are you on drugs? Am I going to have to stage an intervention?”
“Nope.” I leaned against the side of the kitchen table, keeping one eye on the sausages sizzling away in the pan. “But, I did meet someone last night. I’ve got a date.”
I’d expected Georgia to be happy. After all, she’d been on my back about dating for weeks. I didn’t expect her to suddenly scream, “What the hell,” and glare at me like I’d murdered her favorite pet. I blinked at her, trying to work out what I’d done.
When I didn’t respond, her glare intensified, coupled with a hand on the hip which always signaled trouble. “What about Jack?”
I ran the name through my brain a couple of times expecting enlightenment to dawn. It never happened. Finally, I had to ask, “Who’s Jack?”
I shook my head as she parroted the words back to me.
“Who’s Jack?” The look on her face made it clear how stupid she felt the question was.
“Jack is the man who’s desperate to go out with you.
I’m at the stage of just lining it up. He’s a banker, so plenty of money.
He’s got a great torso. So, you can’t just…
sort out your own dates…what’ll I tell Jack? ”
Using the tongs, I turned the sausages over, before turning back to her. “So, this Jack is one of your Grindr friends, right?”
“Not my Grindr friend, Dean. He’s yours. You talk to him every night. And he’s expecting to go out with you. He can’t wait.”
It was all I could do not to laugh. But, I knew that would wind her up even more. “You talk to him every night, Georgia. I’ve never spoken to him. I’m afraid you’re just going to have to disappoint him.”
There was a long, charged silence. I pretended a much greater interest in the sausages than I actually had while I waited it out. Finally, there was a loud huff of breath from behind me.
“This guy you’re supposedly going on a date with. Where did you meet him?”
“At the restaurant.”
Georgia suddenly appeared right beside me. “While you were working?”
I tamped down the urge to roll my eyes. “Yes, Georgia, while I was working. We do tend to chat to people while waiting tables, rather than treating them to uncomfortable silences. We got talking, and he was nice. He asked me if I wanted to get dinner and I said yes. I’m really looking forward to it. ”
“When’re you seeing him?”
“Tonight.”
Another huff of breath. This one I felt, as well as heard, given she’d moved even closer.
“Well, I suppose it’s good you’ve actually got a date.
I won’t tell Jack though. I’ll make up some sort of elaborate excuse.
It’s best to keep him in reserve…you know, just in case…
it all goes horribly wrong. Anyway, at least it means you’ll drop the Tuesday night thing. ”
My fingers tightened around the handles of the tongs. We’d had an almighty argument when she’d discovered I’d gone after telling her I wasn’t going to. “Why would it mean that?”
“Oh, I just thought…”
I cast a quick glance in her direction. “One’s business.
One’s pleasure. They’re two completely different things.
” She looked less than convinced. She’d just opened her mouth to argue when the ringing of my phone provided a timely interruption.
Glad of the reprieve, I snatched it off the counter and answered it before checking the caller I.D.
“Bad news.”
Tom’s dulcet tones blasted through the phone. He continued speaking without waiting for my response, “Actually, knowing you, you might think it’s good news.”
“Bad news! What do you mean?” I turned away from Georgia’s questioning look.
“Your Mr. Tuesday—”
It was the code name we’d started using when discussing the man.
I’d considered asking for his surname several times.
I figured Tom must know it. Surely, he had to have given his full name when he signed up with the agency.
There were two things that stopped me. Firstly, even if Tom did know it, it was doubtful he’d be happy to share it, and secondly, I’d realized knowing his surname wouldn’t actually tell me much at all.
Then, there was the fact Tom would probably find the request very strange.
Which would lead to questions I really wouldn’t want to answer.
“—has canceled.”
I let the words wash over me, ignoring the rush of some unidentifiable emotion. “What? Do you mean for this week? Or…canceled completely?”
“Canceled completely. He said he doesn’t require our services anymore. Or more specifically, your services.”
A lead weight settled in my stomach. “Why? What did he say?” The words “what did I do wrong” were on the tip of my tongue.
I held them back. I’d agreed to wearing the handcuffs.
I’d agreed to the blow job. Okay, so I’d balked at both of them to start with.
Was that the problem? Was he fed up having to wait before I agreed to things?
“He didn’t give a reason. I offered to send someone else. No offense, Dean, but sometimes our clients just want a change and don’t quite know how to say it. But he wasn’t interested. Sorry, Dean. I know the money was useful for you. I’ll probably be able to find something else for you next week.”
“Yeah, sure. That would be…good. Just escorting though. No…you know.”
We made small talk for the next few minutes until we said our goodbyes. I went through the motions, my mind reeling, giving monosyllabic answers while I tried to work out what it was about the last visit that had caused the mystery man to terminate the arrangement.
Justin had insisted on meeting inside the Mexican restaurant.
I’d assumed he wasn’t keen on hanging around outside a place where anyone and everybody could see him.
He’d offered to book the table. It wasn’t until the ma?tre d’ asked for a name that it dawned on me I didn’t have the faintest clue as to what his surname was.
Fortunately, the first name proved sufficient and I was led to a table at the back of the restaurant.
I eased myself into the chair opposite and responded to his crooked grin with a smile of my own, thanking the ma?tre d’ when he deposited a menu in front of me.
Justin leaned forward, the grin still in place.
“You turned up. I wasn’t entirely sure you would.
I thought I might end up eating on my own again. ”
Although the comment was clearly meant to be delivered as a joke, there was a sad ring of truth underlying the words. So rather than making my own joke out of it, I answered as earnestly as possible. “I wouldn’t do that.”
He nodded and we both took time to study the menu.
Justin was way more decisive than I was, his order completed fairly quickly while I spent time dithering and questioning the waiter.
When the waiter finally departed, I found Justin staring across the restaurant, his head turned to the side and only the unblemished side on display.
I took a moment to study him. He really had been gorgeous.
I immediately gave myself a mental shake—is gorgeous—not had been.
Busy berating myself, it took a moment to realize Justin’s attention had returned to me, and he’d caught me staring.
Again. My cheeks flamed, and I struggled to think of something to say. “Sorry…I—”
Justin’s jaw tightened. “I can sit sideways all night if it helps.”
Mortified, I tried to think of a suitably placating response and drew a blank. I was saved from having to, when Justin offered his own apology.
“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It’s a defense mechanism. You know…say mean things about myself, before anyone else does. Anyway, at least you were staring at that side. Makes a change from the other side.” He tried for a smile. It was weak at best.
“Am I allowed to ask what happened?”
Justin drummed his fingers on the table, looking decidedly uncomfortable. He clearly didn’t want to talk about it.
I felt guilty for asking. “You don’t have to. It’s probably not first-date talk. I shouldn’t have asked.”
He shook his head. “It’s fine. My therapist says I should always answer that question when it’s asked. Says avoidance of the subject doesn’t help me.”
I shrugged. “What do therapists know?”
It pulled a small smile from him. “I was in the army.”
“Well, that explains the…” I stopped, unsure whether it was the most appropriate thing to say aloud when he was about to share personal information.
Justin shot me a quizzical look. “The what?”
I played for time by taking a sip of water. I was beginning to feel like this evening was going to consist of me constantly embarrassing myself. “The…erm…muscles. You know…the physique. You obviously work out. Not that I’ve noticed, of course.”
Justin smirked, looking mightily pleased at the comment. “Of course, not.”
“So, you were in the army? Were you posted overseas?”