Chapter 13 A Casual Thing
A CASUAL THING
Ember
I sank into the bathtub, wishing there was more space to stretch my legs out, but there wasn’t. Staring at my knees, I ran my fingers through the bubbles I’d added in an attempt to focus on anything other than how the last few weeks had gone.
It had been almost a full month since he’d called me his good girl in that pitch black room at Silk and Spice, and I’d heard what he’d said after that.
I knew he said I wasn’t his girl yet. I should be uncomfortable.
I should be angry. Yet all I could do was think about what we’d shared over the past few weeks.
We had started a sort of routine. We’d met twice a week. Once on Wednesday, when I’d pick the spot and what we did. Then on Friday night, when he’d get to pick a spot and what we did.
But in between all of that, we still communicated through the app, even if it was just him trying to flirt with me and me playing hard to get and completely uninterested.
Truly, it was a wasted effort on my end.
I was already gone for this guy. This anonymous guy, whom I didn’t know, had never fully seen in the daylight, and probably couldn’t pick out on the street.
Which was another thing. I’d been naked with this man nine times now, and unless I was stuck with a lineup of cocks, I couldn’t pick him out.
Trust me, I’d been trying. Every time I went to the grocery store or a new guy walked into the bakery, I stared at him, trying to figure out if he was my anonymous guy. But I’d have no luck whatsoever.
Everything we’d done had been masked, in the dark, blind folded, tied up, face down, whatever. Either way, I’d yet to see this man in the daylight with more than a half-second to look into his eyes. I was going a bit crazy over it if I was being honest.
I reached down, letting the water out of the tub, and watched it swirl down the drain.
My mother and I started meeting again for our weekly lunches last week.
Apparently she was finished holding a grudge about me ditching the date with the doctor, or maybe he was a lawyer?
I genuinely couldn’t remember anymore. I loved my mom, and I knew she meant and wanted the best for me, but sometimes I had to remind myself it wasn’t my job to make her happy; it was my job to make myself happy.
And what made me happy right now? Fucking the masked man twice a week.
I stood and grabbed a fluffy white towel from the counter, wrapping it tightly around me.
My phone vibrated across the counter, and I glanced down, seeing it was Aspen.
Aspen, Ivy, and I had gotten closer since she sent Wyatt over to help me with my identity theft issues.
Not that he’d been much help finding who was trying to take my shit and pretending to be me, but he had gotten me set up with a more secure bank, and I had access to my money again, thank the gods above.
Aspen: I’m having a Halloween party! It’s Rowan and I’s first big gathering at the house, and you’re both invited. Next Saturday!! I know it’s early, but I’m excited. No excuses. Costumes are a must.
Ivy: I’ll be there! What are y’all dressing up as?
I smiled. Maybe that was exactly what I needed.
A party to get my mind off the rest of my not-so-stable life.
Maybe I’d meet a cute guy—one I actually got the name of.
I shook my head at the likelihood of that.
Me finding anyone I didn’t spend the entirety of the night comparing to my anonymous man was unlikely.
Me: I’ll be there! I already have a Poison Ivy costume. I’ve been dying for a chance to wear the full outfit.
Ivy: Oh! Maybe I’ll be a superhero too…no idea what though. Is anyone blond?
Me: Supergirl is blond. I’ll send you some links.
Aspen: I’m picking a villain. Feels fitting and Rowan would die.
Aspen: Maybe I’ll tell everyone to do superheroes. That would be fun! Sending out the message now.
Me: I’m down!
I sent Ivy some costume ideas and then locked my phone to finish getting ready for bed. At least if nothing else, I’d have a chance to show off the full costume now.
The following morning, I was going through my normal daily routine.
I’d already gone through the first rush of the morning—the early risers on their way to the city for work, and then the daily nine a.m. commuters.
So when the chime above the door rang a little after ten, I didn’t even look up when I yelled welcome from back by the oven.
I was pulling out a batch of banana nut muffins, so it didn’t feel all that serious to rush out for one customer.
Couldn’t risk burnt muffins—they could wait.
Setting the muffins on the cooling rack, I walked out and looked over the counter, quickly realizing how wrong I was. I should’ve walked out.
Something about this man set me on edge—not in a negative connotation, but just jumpy.
Of course he was handsome, but the way he carried himself with an air of confidence that he didn’t require words to back up was unnerving.
He was dressed simply in a white t-shirt that wrapped around his toned arms way better than was necessary, blue jeans, and a pair of Nikes.
His worn-in baseball cap was on backwards, his dark hair peeking out beneath the rim.
Fuck, this man was hot.
Deciding to just dive right in and leave the awkwardness in the back by the cooling muffins, I plastered a smile across my face—one I’d perfected years ago thanks to my mother.
“Mr. Carragan. Do you like banana nut muffins? Just pulled some out of the oven.”
He stared at me from across the counter for a brief moment before nodding. “I do actually. After that cinnamon roll last time though, I fear you could talk me into almost anything, Ms. Brady.”
I cleared my throat and turned to grab him two muffins and a coffee before he could see the blush creeping up my cheeks.
The last thing I needed was for him to think I liked him in any sort of way because I sure as fuck did not.
He had an ego the size of the state of Colorado.
After I’d met him the first time, I dove into his social media accounts, tagged photos, and even his website. It said plenty.
Basically, he loved women and looked really fucking hot in a suit.
“Glad to hear it. I’ll grab you a few.”
“Uh, thanks. I—” He stopped, and I peeked over my shoulder to see him rub the back of his neck while he stared at the floor. The man was clearly a ball of nerves, and that didn’t serve my anxiety well at all.
I walked back to the counter and bagged his muffins before setting them on the counter in front of him. “Spit it out, Carragan. I am at work, and small talk isn’t my strongest point.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I just don’t really know how to dive into this whole thing, I guess.”
“What whole thing?” I snapped, probably quicker than I needed to, based on the clear nerves he was giving off.
“Fuck me,” he muttered beneath his breath.
“Okay listen, I’ve been looking into your case, as you know, like you’d asked me to.
Trying to find any leads on who may have stolen your identity and destroyed your credit, all the bullshit you’ve been dealing with.
” His voice trailed off as he stared at me.
“You’re not a Brady, are you? I mean, you are, but not originally, as in at birth and all that. ”
My heart sank, and my palms felt somewhat damp all of a sudden.
“Why would you be digging into my past, Carragan? In what world would you have that right?” I wasn’t even somewhat prepared for this conversation.
I had just been lusting after this man not three minutes ago, and he walked in knowing all of the things I tried too hard to bury and just hoped this small town would forget about.
Which truly, given the circumstances, was insane of me.
I knew this, yet it didn’t keep me from wanting exactly that.
Maybe my mom and I weren’t that different at all.
She truly believed that moving twenty miles out of this town would change her past—erase it, and I believed that my last name reading something other than ‘Dunagan’ on my license would allow me to outrun the thoughts and feelings that came from the paternal side of my DNA. I was a certified fool.
“Ember, I understand that this sounds bad, but when it comes to cases like this, sometimes it truly is someone close to the victim. Fuck that sounds like you’ve been murdered,” he muttered the last bit and ran his hands over his face, letting out a huff.
“This isn’t going over how I wanted at all.
I swear I’m good at my job. People pay me good money for what I can do.
Just…please just trust me for a moment, okay?
Or don’t trust me and just hear me out.” He sounded as exhausted as I felt right this moment.
I didn’t respond though, I just stared, because what was I supposed to say?
Sure, go on. I know my last name. I did pay to have it changed after all.
Proceed to air my laundry for anyone else to hear.
It wasn’t as if we even had customers right now, so we might as well get this done before someone did walk in.
So I let out a reluctant nod, wordlessly telling him to proceed.