“Yeah, yeah,” Richard said, shuffling on his feet.
It was then I realized why he was having such a hard time getting his balance—his pants were too tight.
Dear God, is that his package?
I jerked my gaze up from the bulge in his pants, fighting back a gag. The same view had captured Roxanna’s attention, too, and her face was pinched, as if she’d just eaten an extra-large scoop of rotten shrimp salad.
When Richard finally stood upright, he stuffed his hands in his back pockets. The move shifted the biker vest over his chest and I caught sight of a pink nipple through the sheer white undershirt. I squeezed my eyes shut and shook my head, hard, in an attempt to clear the image. It didn’t work. The nipple was still there inside my brain to haunt my dreams forever and always.
I pulled him into the alcove of my cubicle. “Richard, you didn’t do this for me, did you?”
My whispered words had him leaning in closer. Too close. The scent of oily hair whooshed at me and I leaned back and raised my voice only a little, still not wanting anyone to overhear and embarrass him further.
“I thought maybe…if I was a biker. You like bikers.” Richard’s face burned, and his forlorn tone made the corners of my lips turn down.
“I’m really flattered, Richard. I am.” I sought the right words, but nothing I’d said so far had worked, especially when I thought he’d been enjoying meeting women at the movie rental place. “We’re just not right for each other. And I’m seeing someone right now.”
His face fell. “I know. But you said you weren’t serious the other night…I thought maybe…”
His voice trailed off with a new tone—one of acceptance. I gave him a sympathetic smile because, after getting to know Richard, I liked him. As a friend. He didn’t know squat about women, but even that was a little endearing, as long as he wasn’t focusing that non-knowledge on me. He’d dated the same girl all through high school who apparently had been some kind of computer genius, but she’d gone away to an Ivy League college and fallen for some guy who designed computer software. Richard stayed behind and hoped she’d come back. She never had. He needed guidance.
I grasped his forearm and gave it a squeeze. “I just really like this guy I met and…we’re taking it slow.”
His face was a brilliant pink. “Oh, I see.”
“Hey, it’s okay,” I soothed, patting his shoulder. “You know, you make a really nice biker.” I grimaced because it wasn’t true, but he’d already been embarrassed enough. “But I’m a one-biker kind of girl.” I took my hand back so he wouldn’t think I was lingering to cop a feel. “And besides, what happened to that brunette you were going to ask out?”
“She said she’s a lesbian.”
“Oh. Well.” I bit my lip, scouring my brain for a girl, any girl, I might know who was looking for a guy like Richard. The problem was, I didn’t know many people in Lincoln. It was a gamble to think I’d be able to come up with someone to set him up with soon but, after all, Catherine had taken an interest in matchmaking and Roxanna knew a ton of girls in town from the night club. So I threw caution to the wind and said, “Hey, I think I know a great girl to set you up with.”
“You do?” He perked up with interest.
“Yeah!” I nodded, excited. I’d start compiling a list later. “I mean, I might even be able to find you someone who likes video games. Not like me. Video games give me nightmares.” Not true, but if it helped steer him away from the thought of dating me, ever, it was worth a shot. “I scream and everything. I’d have to ask you to stop playing them if we dated.”
It was his turn to grimace. “You’re really cool, Gen, but I’d never give up video games. I’m going pro.”
“Right,” I agreed, not bothering to mask my enthusiasm. If I was excited, he’d be excited too. “And I’m not the type of person who could ask someone to give up their dreams. What would your friends think of you dating someone who hated video games?”
From his expression, it would not be cool at all with his friends. “I guess you’re right.”
“This’ll be fun, finding you a girlfriend.” I flashed him a big smile. “And, uh, Roxanna and I are always free to give you girl advice. Right, Rox?”
Roxanna stepped around the partition and patted Richard on the arm. “Yeah, of course. Sure.” Roxanna gave him a big, toothy smile. “Sounds fun.”
“Okay,” he said, the flush draining from his face.
“And I think you should stop taking advice from your guy friends. They really don’t have a clue when it comes to girls. Okay?” I said, and he nodded.
“And no dumping girls in public. Ever,” Roxanna added.
“Yeah, none of that,” I agreed. “You can, uh, try it in a text message if it doesn’t work out. But not in public. It’s rude.”
Probably a text message might get him run over by some angry girl later on in life, but we’d worry about that after he found a girlfriend. One step at a time.
His shoulders lifted in a posture of hope and the color of his face was back to normal. “Cool,” he said, smiling. “So we can hang out after work and stuff so you guys can set me up with girls?”
Roxanna put her arm around his shoulder. “You see, Richard, neither Gen nor I make a habit of hanging out with our guy friends much, because we both have boyfriends. We don’t like to make them jealous. But a phone call, that’s cool. Once in awhile. Or emails.” Roxanna nodded at him. “An email is okay.”
“Maybe a text message,” I suggested. “But if you find a girlfriend, we’d be cool with, uh, double dating or something.”
“You would?” he asked, sounding disbelieving. There was murder in Roxanna’s eyes for offering up something like that without a side bar first, but I ignored her.
“Of course!” I chirped. “I know a club that would be a great place for a double-date.”
He nodded, serious now. “Okay, sounds awesome. I’ll call you tonight.”
I hooked my arm through his and steered him toward the end of the aisle. Dropping my voice to a whisper, I said, “We’re good, right?”
He glanced over at me. “Yeah, good. Everything’s cool.”
I didn’t want him to feel embarrassed, didn’t want things to be weird between us. I liked visiting with him at the movie rental place and laughing at some goofy thing he said. Somewhere along the way I’d adopted him, kind of like a stray puppy dog with floppy ears.
“Good,” I said and we stopped at the end of the aisle. “That last movie you told me to rent was great, by the way. I was thinking I’d like to try another alien movie, but one that’s not so scary, okay?”
“Yeah, sure,” he said, the brightness back to his voice. “Stop by tomorrow, I’ll be there.”
“Sure will; see you then,” I said and then, as an afterthought, I whirled around before he made it too far. “Oh! You should ditch the biker digs.” His vest shifted as he turned back toward me and I caught another flash of pink under his thin white shirt. I added, “It really, uh, does nothing for your hair.”
“Nothing,” Roxanna agreed, stepping up beside me.
He nodded happily and turned on his heel, strolling toward the elevator, a bounce to his step. When the elevator doors closed and he disappeared from view, I finally turned to Roxanna and said, “Holy cow. That just happened.”
Roxanna grinned. “He’s got nice nipples.”
“Maybe we should invite him to Revenge Night,” I said and stepped back into my cubicle. “Knock out two birds with one stone—Britney can make her ex cry and Richard can find a girlfriend.”
“I’ve been thinking about that,” Roxanna said. We both looked at Britney, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she processed electronic claims. “Revenge Night is probably a bad idea. I was projecting my annoyance with men that day. I don’t think she can handle revenge on that level.”
I laughed. “Thank God you’ve come to your senses.”
“Maybe just a party in Britney’s honor. Invite a ton of people and dirty dance with hot guys,” Roxanna suggested.
I hugged her. “Look how responsible you’re becoming.”
She screwed up her nose.
“
Ick
, that sounds boring,” she said, and I laughed.
Chapter Twenty-One
Spending time with Matt became almost an every-day thing. Talking with him was so easy, and yet I shied away from the one question that had been bugging me since Roxanna produced the divorce papers—why hadn’t he told me yet about his ex-wife? Another week went by and our imaginations ran wild with reasons.
Leah was more practical, certain he was only being cautious. I suggested maybe his ex had been in the CIA and even to mention her would be a traitorous crime, punishable by Federal prison and waterboarding. Roxanna one-upped me and suggested that maybe his ex-wife was of an alien race and if he mentioned it, she’d zap him with her alien laser powers and he’d turn to ash.
She knew how to turn my paranoia into overdrive. Damn her.
But all our nonsensical explanations were in order to keep my mind off more hurtful reasons—like maybe he didn’t like me enough to tell me the truth, or maybe he just wasn’t into telling the truth about important things. And I was scared, because I liked him way more than I’d ever intended to. I was scared I was falling in love with him. If he couldn’t tell me the truth, I was falling for the wrong man.
I didn’t want him to be the wrong man.
It didn’t help I was insanely, utterly, hopelessly attracted to him. I’d been walking around in a daze lately, oozing sexual frustration, my only relief cold showers. And then he’d call me and I’d hear his voice before bed and I’d go to bed hot and bothered anyway. Roxanna thought she’d help me out by forcing an erotic romance on me, thinking things would…work themselves out. It didn’t. It only made things worse, especially after I’d begun casting me and Matt as the main characters of the spicy historical. It was almost unbearable alone in my bedroom, making for long restless nights. The bags under my eyes were horrible. Thank God for concealer.
Tonight, my nerves threatened to spill over into the toilet and I had to take a deep breath to steady myself. I leaned over the bathroom sink and splashed cold water on my face. For a week the idea had bounced around in my head, planted by the ever persistent Roxanna:
Hot, hot, hot sex. Blow-the-roof-off-sex. Friends-with-benefits kind of sex.
I really, really wanted to seduce him…except I was dangerously close to hyperventilating. I had no idea how to go about it, propositioning him. Nothing I’d come up with so far sounded right inside my head.
You could do what Roxanna suggested: just rip your clothes off and lie naked in front of him
. That kind of thing would work for Roxanna—a guy would probably expect that kind of dramatic declaration from my friend. But not me. Probably, Matt would wonder if
I’d
been invaded by an alien life force.
So, that option was definitely out.
I told myself to take deep breaths. I was getting all flushed and sweaty—no way could I throw myself at him if I stunk like a man. I fanned myself with the collar of my dress, but it did nothing. I went for the deodorant.
I’d never planned something like this before. Operation Seduction. I’d been talking myself up to it all day. My sexiest black lingerie was under the short gray smock dress I’d purchased just for tonight. Okay, so really I’d been working myself up to it all week. His goodnight kisses weren’t cutting it and he hadn’t come in since the night I’d nearly given him whiplash. He’d left me no choice. Tonight was a full-on sexual assault.
Probably, you shouldn’t refer to it like that.
I giggled nervously and caked on the deodorant.
Here I was, shut in my bathroom while he cleaned up the leftovers from the Japanese takeout he’d brought over. And my pep talk—
casual sex is fun!
—wasn’t working so well. With every internal chant, I got a little more sick to my stomach.
“You can do this,” I told my reflection. “Piece of freakin’ cake.”
The knock on the bathroom door forced a screech from my throat that sounded like a wounded cat.
“Shit,” I mumbled and my heart slammed against my chest.
“Are you okay?” Matt asked, the concern in his voice obvious. I’d been in the bathroom for at least ten minutes. Maybe longer. My dad would have asked if I’d fallen in by now.
“Oh, God,” I whispered and clutched the hand towel to my queasy stomach. I took a deep breath then said to the door, “Yeah, sorry. I was just washing my face.” I scrambled to take the face wash from the cabinet above the sink. “I’ll, uh, be out in a second.”
“Oh. Okay, sorry. I was just a little worried because Roxanna keeps calling your phone. Now she’s calling mine since you didn’t answer yours. She said to check on you because, uh, you might have had a seizure.”
I groaned. What the hell was Roxanna up to now? Why my friend needed to talk so urgently, I hadn’t a clue. But what she’d managed to accomplish was to make me look like some kind of major medical liability. I squeezed my eyes shut and counted to five.
“No seizure,” I assured through the door.
“Do you…get seizures often?”
“No,” I said quickly. I would tackle Roxanna when I saw her next. “I’ve never had a seizure in my life. She just worries because she has…an anxiety disorder.” It wasn’t as if Roxanna didn’t deserve it. Seizures? Really?