CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ELISE
THE ONLY GOOD thing that came out of working on the same day as my next date was that it left me little to no time to agonize over it.
Normally, I’d spend hours worrying about what I should do with my hair, makeup, and clothes; it was the part of dating that I didn’t miss at all.
But I had to admit it was nice getting dressed up again in something other than a pencil skirt and blazer and having something to look forward to that wasn’t pizza and a movie on my couch.
That was probably why I had a little sway to my hips as I walked out of the bathroom at work Friday night dressed and ready for my second blind date.
This is one was with Daniel, the wide receiver for the Los Angeles Chargers.
I knew absolutely nothing about football, or any sports really, but Kelsey assured me that wasn’t a dealbreaker for Daniel.
She also assured me that Daniel and I would get along great.
I knew I could trust Kelsey since she was my best-friend after all and it wasn’t like her to steer me wrong.
I was done for the day but I did have one more task to complete before I could leave.
I gathered up the documents on my desk and—
Ouch!
There was a quick but sharp pain on my pointer finger and I looked down to see the tiny cut on my finger.
Paper cut.
I’ll never understand how something so small could cause so much pain.
It wasn’t bleeding, thank God, but it was reddening and I shuttered at the sight.
And that, dad is exactly why I will never be a doctor in this lifetime or the next.
I sucked in a breath. The little sucker stung like a motherfucker, but I wouldn’t let it damper my mood or stop me from completing my last task for the day, so I forced a smile on my face before knocking on Nathan’s door.
“Come in.” was his throaty response and I took another second to compose myself before I opened the door and let myself in.
Nathan sat behind his desk looking as gorgeous as ever in a crisp white shirt and immaculate grey suit. Cucinelli if I had to guess. The man had a personal relationship with the designer himself.
Nathan didn’t bother looking up from the documents he was in the middle of going over when I entered the room.
“I have those contracts you wanted to review.” I announced as I erased the distance between the two of us.
“Just leave it on my desk.” Again, he didn’t look up.
I fought the urge to roll my eyes but did as he wanted and placed the contracts on his desk.
“If that’s all, I’ll be leaving for the night.”
“Okay, that’s fine.” Nathan finally looked up and his jaw locked when he saw me. His eyes roamed my hair (high ponytail), my face (nude lip combo), and my clothes (a satin brown spaghetti strap dress). When his eyes landed back on my face they were unreadable. “Going somewhere?”
“I have a date.”
“Another one?” It wasn’t hard to miss the annoyance in his voice and a small part of me was thrilled it was there.
“Yes. My friend has a line-up of dates for me to go on. Remember, like the one I was supposed to go on last week but you ruined it?”
He didn’t take the bait.
“Who’s the guy?”
“A wide receiver on the Chargers.”
“I didn’t know you were into sports.” Nathan replied, sounding amused.
“Oh, I’m not,” I said. “I just appreciate the view.” I grinned, only to suck in a breath when my finger suddenly throbbed in pain.
“What’s the matter?” Nathan’s voice sharpened.
“It’s nothing,” I shook my head as I gripped my pointer finger. “It’s just a paper cut.”
“You’re in pain.” Nathan stared at the tiny cut on my pointer finger where the redness was impossible to miss.
“I’m fine,” I tried again. “If there’s nothing else you need, I’ll be leaving. I’m meeting my date in an hour.”
He made an impatient noise. “He can wait. Let me bandage your finger up for you.”
“That’s not necessary. I don’t want to be late.”
“Come here.” Nathan replied, his voice calm but undeniably firm.
I was all too familiar with the tone of his voice, the one which let me know that there was no room for argument.
I bit back my annoyance and rounded the large desk. Nathan said nothing as he pulled out a small first-aid kit from one of his drawers and opened it up and pulled out a disinfectant wipe and a band-aid.
“No Barbie band-aids?” I joked.
“I’m afraid not. I left those at my house.”
“Damn.” I pretended to be disappointed and if I didn’t know any better I could’ve sworn I saw his lips tug upward in a smile.
The moment should’ve stayed light, but something shifted when his fingers brushed over my skin which were deliberate, careful, and warm.
Too warm.
My breath caught, and I forced a smile, but I couldn’t stop the flicker of memory that hit me square in the chest.
Bandaging my own wrist in the bathroom mirror, careful not to cry in case it made things worse or. Jax crouched in front of me, his touch soft but his eyes cold, cleaning up a mess he created like it somehow made it okay.
I blinked hard and looked away.
Nathan stilled. “Are you okay?”
I nodded too fast. “Yeah. It stings a little, that's all.”
“You know if there's anything you want to talk about, anything non-work related, I'm here.”
My throat tightened. “I know.” The silence between us stretched a beat too long, so I changed the subject. “I haven’t seen Sydney around lately,” I said lightly, tugging my hand back. “She finally got tired of trying to convince you to settle down?”
Nathan’s expression didn’t shift. He placed the wrapper from the wipe back in the kit, slow and steady. “Sydney and I were never serious.”
I raised a brow, pretending not to care. “Could’ve fooled me.”
He finally looked up and held my gaze with a steady expression that made my stomach twist in the most inconvenient way.
“I’m not interested in Sydney,” he said, voice low. “Lately,” he added, “I’ve only had eyes for someone else.”
Heat crawled up my neck and bloomed in my chest, slow and deep.
“Mr.Edge...”
He gave the faintest shrug, like he hadn’t just sucker punched me with eight words and a stare that made it hard to breathe.
“I just thought you should know.”
The air hummed with electricity, my pulse spiked to a dangerous rhythm and the temperature seemed to have dropped a hundred degrees as he released my hand.
“Thank you.” I said when I finally found my voice.
“No problem.” He leaned back in his seat. “You’re free to go now.”
“Go?” Go where?
“Your date.” He chuckled.
Oh. Date. Football player. Dinner. Tonight.
“Oh yeah,” I let out a nervous laugh. “I wouldn’t want to be late.” I paused. “Goodnight Mr. Edge.”
“Goodnight, Elise.”
I quickly gathered what was left of my dignity and walked calmly towards the door when what I really wanted to do was run. Once I was in the clear and out of Nathan’s office, I headed for the elevators.
The gentleness of his touch and the harshness in his eyes when he saw I was hurt followed me down to the lobby and left me wondering if missing the date would’ve been such a bad idea after all.
***
I ALMOST TURNED around the second I stepped inside the restaurant.
Not because anything was wrong. Everything was right. Dim lighting, sleek decor, the soft murmur of conversation, and the scent of garlic butter and wine floating through the air. It was elegant without being stiff. Romantic without trying too hard.
But first dates had a way of making my stomach somersault no matter how nice the backdrop was. Especially first dates with men like Daniel James.
He stood when he saw me, flashing a warm smile that could make a nun reconsider her vows.
Daniel was tall and muscular, his dark brown complexion complementing the white sweater that hugged his arms just enough to be unfair.
His head was clean-shaven and his jawline looked like it was carved from stone.
“Sorry I’m late,” I said, a little breathless as I slid into the booth across from Daniel. “Crazy day at work.”
“You’re good.”
It was two simple words, but the second I heard them, I froze.
That accent. Smooth. Polished. British.
It was rich and velvety, like warm honey. I didn't know whether to smile or ask him to say it again. Or say anything, really. Recite the alphabet. Read me the menu. Those were just a few things to come to mind.
My stomach did a little somersault, and I forced myself to focus as I shrugged off my jacket and set it behind me as Daniel reclaimed his seat.
“I was beginning to think you might be standing me up,” Daniel teased, leaning his forearms on the table. “Would’ve been a blow to my ego.”
I held up my hand to show him the bland colored bandage on my finger. “I battled office papers and lived to tell the tale.”
He grinned. “Paper cut?”
“Paper cut.” I confirmed.
“Tragic,” he said, mock-serious. “I appreciate your bravery in still making it out tonight.”
I laughed, and for a moment, it felt easy. I told myself to relax. Daniel was charming and funny and definitely cute. And I was here to have a good time, not obsess over a man who couldn’t decide whether he wanted to be my boss or my something more.
The waiter came and took our orders before Daniel and I were alone again.
“Tell me something that’s not on your resumé.” Daniel said.
I smiled. “I’m a dancer. Rhodium’s choreographer to be exact.”
He raised his brows, impressed. “You serious? That means you were the one who choreographed that set from the VMAs? That was dope.”
I blinked. “You remembered that?”
Nathan shrugged in response. “I’m a fan of movement. My mom used to put me in dance classes to help with footwork. Said if I could learn to glide, I’d learn to fly.”
“That’s kind of poetic,” I said, surprised.
“She was dramatic,” he said with a shrug. “And okay. I’ve still got a little samba left in me.” I was still smiling when he added, “So, what kind of music gets you in your zone?”
“Oh, I have a soft spot for neo-soul. I listen to Cleo Sol and H.E.R like they're my therapist.”
Daniel dropped his breadstick. “Hold up. You know Cleo?”