Shopping for Love Read online

  I look up, startled, when someone yells “Hey” my way. I’m surprised to see Blake walking toward me carrying a coffee, looking way too ruggedly handsome for the suit and tie he’s wearing. I have a strong urge to tell him to ditch the tie and undo his top two buttons. He’s smiling. Oh dear, those dimples. I jump and hold the belt bag behind my back.

  “Whatcha doin’?” Blake says.

  “I’m here to drop something off for Caroline.”

  “Oh. You wanna come up?”

  “No, she’s sending someone down.”

  “Okay. Well I gotta get up there before Papa Crompton loses it.”

  I laugh nervously. There’s a moment of uncomfortable silence. He’s looking right into my eyes. I move my sunglasses from the top of my head and put them on. “Blake?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you like working here?” Why am I doing this?

  He shrugs. “It’s okay. It pays the bills.” His eyes crinkle at the corners. He’s trying to read me. He leans in, puts his hand on the side of my arm and plants a quick, chaste kiss on my cheek. “Have a good day, Hayden. I gotta run. I can take that up if you want.”

  I’m still holding the bag behind my back, awkwardly. “No, someone will be scouring the parking lot for me otherwise.”

  “Okay, see ya.”

  I’m trembling as he walks in through the front doors. I’m also staring at his fine, fine butt. I seriously need to get a grip.

  Chapter 8

  In the parking lot, I make sure to text Caroline and let her know that Blake might have seen the bag. Just so she doesn’t use the same one to give him his present.

  Now I’m home flipping through magazines and restructuring my appointment calendar to include weekly shopping with Caroline. The idea excites me. We’re making so much progress and I’m really getting to know her. And she’s already starting to open up to me. I can see the positive changes a few new clothing items have made on her entire life, and I can’t wait to see how she evolves next.

  My phone dings with a new text.

  Caroline: Sorry I just saw this. Oops, I already had my assistant leave it on his desk in that bag. I’m sure he won’t notice.

  Me: But I didn’t put your name on it or anything.

  Caroline: No worries. I had my assistant do it. Thanks again. Gotta go.

  Me: One sec. Are we on for Friday?

  Caroline: Yes. Meet at my place at 6?

  Me: Perfect. See you then.

  The week flies by. I get a message on Wednesday from my mom saying she needs to borrow some money. I send her some, but my savings account is starting to dwindle, and the urgency to acquire more clients is building.

  I’m just thinking about this as I’m on my way to Caroline’s to pick her up so we can shop and get a bite. I have a hard time finding parking, so I circle the block three times and finally decide to park two blocks away. It’s ten after six and I’m jogging toward her condo, a little worried that she’ll be upset I’m late. I put the code in, enter the gate, and when I get to the stoop, I’m surprised to find Blake sitting on the top step.

  “Hey, you,” he says.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “My girlfriend lives here.” He smirks.

  “Hah. I know that. She’s not here?”

  “Not yet. I tried texting her just now. We have a date but she’s running late. Are you dropping something off?”

  Looks like Caroline overbooked. “Actually, Caroline and I have a date as well,” I say.

  He scowls. “Really?” He looks genuinely upset.

  “Don’t worry. We can totally go another time. She was probably just busy when we booked it.”

  He stands up and reaches high on the ledge above us where his phone is sitting. I notice a few things when he does this. Blake is wearing the belt and buckle on his low-slung black jeans. His arms are covered in tattoos, disappearing into his white t-shirt sleeves, and at this very moment I can see the definition in his stomach. My eyes follow his happy trail, and, naturally, I realize I’m smiling to myself while essentially staring at his crotch.

  When I look up he’s smiling back at me. “My eyes are up here.” He points.

  Oh, my god, I’m a terrible person. I’m very obviously objectifying this man with my eyes.

  “Oh…oh, I just noticed you wearing the buckle Caroline bought for you.”

  He laughs. “I love it. Thank you, Hayden.”

  “What? What do you mean?” My nerves are swirling furiously in my stomach.

  “I pried it out of her. I can’t believe you make these belts. They’re amazing and the buckle couldn’t have been more perfect.”

  How do I get out of this one? “It’s what I do, you know? I just thought it matched your style.”

  He nods but doesn’t say anything else about it.

  “I didn’t realize you had so many tattoos,” I say.

  “Oh yeah, I got a lot of them in art school. This is my favorite, though.” He points to the bottom of his bicep where the name GENEVIEVE is written in wispy script.

  “Genevieve?” I ask.

  “My mama, Genevieve,” he says, pronouncing both “mama” and her name in the French way. He smiles.

  “That’s sweet.” I’m still staring at his bicep. “We should call Caroline and let her know that I’m gonna take off.”

  “Yeah, give me a sec. I’ll try the office.”

  He dials a number and puts the phone to his ear. “CC, hey, where are you? We have reservations at six-thirty. Oh, and Hayden’s here.” He pauses. His brow furrows. “It’s a Friday night. There was nothing on my desk when I left.”

  I motion my thumb like I’m going to leave because I feel like I’m eavesdropping. He puts his finger up and mouths, “Hold on.”

  He’s nodding while Caroline apparently gives him instructions. “Okay,” he says. “I’ll tell her.” He squints at something she says. “I don’t know.…no…it’s fine, I’ll ask her. Okay, bye, see you in a bit. Love you.”

  He hangs up and looks up at me. “You hungry?”

  “Um…”

  “Caroline isn’t gonna make it for dinner. She did overbook. She apologizes and suggests that we go eat at Murphy’s in the Highlands anyway, and she’ll meet us there as soon as she’s done. She said we could all go out afterward…if you want?”

  “No, I would never want to intrude on your date.” The idea of sharing a meal and getting to know Blake is exciting, but it feels too awkward—too much like we’re on our own date.

  “Caroline really wants you to go. I think it would make her happy. We can skip the shopping part and get drinks after dinner. It’s up to you. No pressure.”

  “Okay,” I say hesitantly, caving in. “I’ll meet you there.”

  “Sounds good. Let me walk you to your car.”

  It’s a really nice neighborhood and just barely dark out. “That’s okay, really. I’m actually a couple of blocks away.”

  “Why don’t I just drive? I’m right here,” he says, pointing to a black BMW sedan. Nice car but not his style at all.

  What do I say? It seems harmless. “Sure, okay, sounds good.” Frankie could use a break. That’s the excuse I’m going with.

  When we get into his car, I’m immediately overwhelmed by his yummy man smell. He’s not wearing cologne. I think it’s his deodorant. Maybe it’s just his natural scent. Oh, geez.

  “This is a nice car.”

  He’s looking straight ahead, concentrating on the road. “It’s a company car,” he says simply.

  “Do you like it?”

  “Yeah, I guess.” He looks over and shoots me a tight smile.

  “You hate it?”

  “I totally hate it, but didn’t want to sound ungrateful.”

  We both laugh.

  “Caroline likes me in this car.”

  Oh, please. Blake would look good driving a jalopy. “Hmm. If you had a choice, what kind of car would you drive?”

  “A ’67 Chevelle. Black with ch
erry interior. But I have my Triumph, so I’m good for now.”

  “A Chevelle? That is a very cool car. I can tell you’ve thought about that question before.”

  “I’ll get one myself someday and hide it in a secret garage so Caroline doesn’t find out.”

  He already anticipates hiding things from each other? “She wouldn’t care.”

  “No, maybe not. She’s pretty frugal, despite how much she’s eventually going to inherit. She’d think a Chevelle would be a frivolous buy.” He speeds up and takes a corner very tightly. When I spill over into the center console, he reaches his right arm out to hold me. “Sorry about that. This car handles so well, I forget how fast I’m taking corners sometimes.”

  I’m tongue-tied for a moment. “It’s okay.” If he touches my knee I’ll spontaneously combust. “So Caroline will inherit the business? And a big trust fund?”

  “She will. I guess I don’t care that much about the money.”

  “But if you two get married—”

  He turns the radio up; thrashing punk music bleeds through the speakers. “Oh, you didn’t know?”

  “What?” I’m practically yelling.

  “I asked her a year ago and she turned me down.”

  Excuse me? Caroline conveniently left that part out when she was talking about Blake. How does anyone turn a guy like this down?

  We arrive at the restaurant. Blake pulls into a spot and says, “Hold on, let get me your door.”

  I hop out quickly. When he meets me on the passenger side he says, “You’re not that type, huh?”

  “I can get my own door, but I appreciate the gesture.”

  “It’s refreshing,” he says quietly. “Hey, are you starving?” He’s looking across the street at something.

  “I’m not going to pass out if I don’t eat right this second, but—”

  “’Kay, great.” He goes back to the car, opens the door, and grabs a camera from the backseat.

  “Wow,” I say, pulling a mini Pentax camera of my own from my purse. “Great minds.”

  “I never leave home without it. You like taking pictures, Hayden?”

  “I love art and design. I think it’s part of being a stylist, but photography is just a hobby for me.”

  “Yeah, that’s what Caroline calls my photography, even though I went to college for it.” It’s impossible not to catch the disappointment in his voice.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Forget it,” he says. “Let’s cross the street.” He grabs my hand. His hand is big and warm and I get a little chill down my spine from his touch.

  “I love the way the light from that sign hits the asphalt,” I say.

  Blake begins clicking the shutter. “These are great textures for what I do.”

  “You do a type of multimedia thing, right?”

  He stops and turns to look directly at me. “Yeah, whatever moves me in the moment. Hey, will you stand under that light and look in that direction?” He points.

  “What?”

  “Yeah, can I photograph you? Do you mind?”

  “Um…okay.” I’m flattered but slightly uncomfortable about having my picture taken.

  He immediately starts snapping away and after a few moments, I relax. “Tilt your head back a little, like you’re looking at something that’s mesmerizing.” Looking at him would be enough.

  Blake finally stops clicking the shutter after what feels like forever. He pulls the camera away from his face, and with the slightest expression of wonder, he simply says, “Beautiful,” while he’s looking right at me.

  “Okie dokie, Prince Charming,” I say, trying to lighten the mood.

  “No, I mean it. I’m not trying to be slimy. You’re a very attractive woman, that’s undeniable, but also you photograph really well, too.”

  “Thank you” is all I can think to say. Aaaand there goes my breath.

  “Let’s go get that bite. Caroline should be off soon.”

  “Perfect,” I say, following him back across the street.

  Once we’re seated, Blake orders the salmon and a glass of red wine. I order the garlic butter spaghetti and think idly that I’m going to have very bad breath soon. Why do I care about my breath?

  “Do you like red wine?” Blake asks. The waiter is still standing next to the table.

  “Oh—”

  “Do you want to share a bottle? I can choose one if you’d like.”

  This is definitely starting to feel like a date.

  Blake notices my hesitation. “Caroline will want a glass when she gets here.”

  “Right, duh. Yes, I’ll have a glass as well. I know nothing about wine so you’ll have to choose.”

  He does, and the waiter returns quickly and opens the bottle for us. Blake says, “You can just pour it.”

  The waiter pours the glasses, sets the bottle down, and walks away.

  “Why did you say that to the waiter? Wasn’t he going to pour the wine anyway?”

  Blake smiles. “He was going to pour a little for me to sample. I’m not really a wine snob. I just know about wine from being around Caroline’s family. Her dad mainly. I didn’t grow up like that at all.”

  “I know.”

  “That’s right, we talked about this.” He pauses as he takes a sip and puts his glass down thoughtfully. “I’m actually really irritated with Ben at the moment.”

  “Caroline’s dad?”

  “Yeah, he’s just constantly asking more of her. He runs her ragged. I mean, Caroline is an only child…she’s it. Her mom spoils the crap out of her, and then her dad makes her pay for it.”

  “What about you?”

  “Do I spoil her?”

  I actually do want to know how he’d respond to that question, but that wasn’t what I was asking. “No, I mean why doesn’t her dad consider you a contender for taking over the company…especially if you and Caroline are together?”

  “He knows I don’t want to do that forever.” Does he want to become an artist instead? I wonder how emotionally exhausting it might be for him to work in an office every day, especially when he knows it’s taking time away from him pursuing his dreams. But maybe it’s all worth it if he gets to be with Caroline, who he loves…right?

  “So…do you spoil her?”

  Wearing a serious expression, he says, “No, I appease her.”

  “Those two things are kind of the same in my book.”

  “The person doing the spoiling usually wants to do it.”

  He’s looking at me seriously. “Let’s change the subject,” I suggest.

  “Yeah, let’s.”

  Just then our food arrives. “Have you tried to get your artwork into any galleries?”

  “Actually, yes. Thanks for asking. My friend Charlie and I are getting a big show together, but it’s still a few months away. He’s a sculptor…really cool stuff.”

  He takes a bite of salmon.

  “That’s amazing. I hope I get to see it.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course.” I twirl spaghetti around my fork and take a huge bite. The bite is so massive I can barely chew it. Blake is smiling.

  “You okay there, champ?”

  I’m trying desperately not to choke, but Blake’s expression is making me laugh. His eyes are as big as saucers and he’s grinning from ear to ear. I put my hand up as if to encourage him to look away. He doesn’t so I do instead, finally composing myself and swallowing.

  “Wow,” he says. “Has it been a while?”

  “Yes,” I say emphatically. That answer definitely has more than one meaning. “I skipped lunch, so…”

  “In that case, you have to try this. Though this little bite might not satisfy you.” He stabs a healthy piece of salmon and holds his fork out to me. I stare at it. It’s such an intimate gesture. He moves it an inch closer to me, but I’m immobile. I consider taking the fork out of his hand but I don’t.

  Finally, I reach up and wrap my hand around his wrist to guide the fork toward me. His
eyes are fixated on my mouth as I take the bite slowly and chew. I release his hand and he pulls it back.

  His mouth is slightly open as he watches me. I feel the urge to strip down naked, throw myself on the table, and offer myself up as an after-dinner treat. My thought is violently interrupted by Caroline’s voice. She’s standing next to the table. Blake and I both look up at her.

  “Sharing forks now, are we?”

  Chapter 9

  “Ha!” I laugh nervously. “Oh, my god,” I say shrilly, “you’re right, Blake, that salmon is phenomenal.” I’m trying to do damage control. I jump up and hug Caroline. “I’m so glad you’re here. We were bored without you.”

  Blake momentarily looks like a deer in headlights, and then he glances up at Caroline and says, “This is probably the best piece of fish I’ve ever had.” He stands and kisses her on the cheek. “Hi, CC.” We’re both trying to downplay the borderline intimate moment we’ve just shared, but we’re failing miserably.

  She takes her coat off and sits down. “Oh, I doubt it beats Ray’s.” Ray’s is a high-end seafood mecca in Atlanta that every rich person raves about.

  “Try a bite.” He holds the fork toward her and she waves him off.

  “No, thanks. I feel like a steak tonight. By the way, you guys seem to be fast friends, sharing food already and everything?” Her smile is condescending.

  I don’t know how to respond—I feel terrible and uncomfortable. I mean, what Blake and I were doing was completely innocent, platonic even. Right? But I could feel the tension between us…the pull. It definitely seems like he’s attracted to me. But if he is attracted to me, he’s got to be grappling with something much bigger than just thinking another woman is hot. Being romantically interested in another woman means that his relationship with Caroline is crumbling. I feel a pang in my chest. I wish I could have had more time with him alone at the restaurant before Caroline arrived, but I’m scared to think of what might have happened.

  “You told us to go get a bite, CC,” Blake says.

  “I did.” She puts her hand over his and squeezes it. “I did. You’re right.” She calms down, smiles, and then directs her attention to the kitchen. “Where the hell is the waiter anyway?”