Give Me Yesterday (8 page)

I spend most of Sunday cleaning my house from top to bottom, the mindless work keeping me from second-guessing my decision to have lunch with Chase. In the late afternoon, I shower and get ready to make my weekly sojourn into the past. For the most part, this trip is why I still have a car. It’s not like I use it to go to my childhood home frequently, or at all if I can help it.

Grabbing my keys and a light sweater, I trudge down to the garage and get into my blue Prius and head east to the town where I grew up. I pull off the freeway and drive the quiet streets to the Meadowland Cemetery. The plots are in the section on the left, so I turn and park on the side of the street, then reach back to get the little something I brought. The sound of the car door closing echoes in the silence, a cloud of melancholy shades the wide open spaces.

Three rows down, two rows over, the third plot in. I stop in front of a marble, gray headstone and the smaller one just beside it. There is a third plot, just waiting for me, on the other side of my little Sarah. As I do every week, I wish fervently that I could have my yesterday back, and if not, I wish that they had filled all three spots that day. There are small bouquets of flowers in front of each stone, as there are most weeks, and I dip to lay my lavender roses on the grass in front of Ben, and sweet purple daisies for my little girl.

“I miss you both, so much it hurts.”

I’ve long since stopped crying, but today there is a crack in the dam and the floodgates threaten to open. I’m confused. I sit at their feet and wonder at what they are thinking. Are they living somewhere? Can they see me?

“Am I living, baby girl? How can I when you never got the chance?”

Nothing but silence whispers on the breeze. “I could never replace either of you, so what am I thinking letting that man get in my head?”

Again, no answer.

I sigh and stand, brushing the blades of grass from my ratty jeans. Sunday is the only day I let my hair down—figuratively speaking, but at least it’s in a messy ponytail—and dress as though I don’t have a permanent stick up my ass. I blow them both kisses and with a heavy heart, I start the walk back to my car. My heart thuds hard for a moment so I look back. I miss them every day, but for the first time in ten years, I’m walking away from their graves without a crushing sense of guilt.

E
ver since Saturday, I’ve had one thing on my mind.

Her.

Tori “Call Me Victoria” Larkin.

Despite her desire to keep me at arm’s length, I simply couldn’t settle for that. In fact, my dumb ass refused to stop touching her like some sort of creepy stalker. Her scent is permanently etched into my brain and I’m already craving more. Not just her scent, but her mouth—
fuck me
—her mouth is an entity in and of itself. Perfect, pouty lips that are chewing my head off one minute, and the next quivering in an attempt to hold it all together.

I want to kiss those angry lips.

But I want to kiss the sad ones too. To fix her. To make it all better.

As I roll up to the front of her building, I’m pleased to see it has valet. A couple of workers dressed in uniform whistle at my ride as I pull up to the attendant station. The male starts to head for my driver’s side window, but the red-headed chick pushes past him. I mash the button and the window rolls down to which she sticks her head in. Upon seeing me, her green eyes widen and she flashes me a flirtatious grin.

“Sweet ride, mister.”

I tilt up the corners of my lips and give her a smug smile. “Sure is, Red. Do you think you could just hold my car for ten minutes? I’ll be right back.”

Her smile falters as she flicks her gaze over to the guy in the kiosk. “I don’t know. It’s against the rules to leave the cars here.”

I feign disappointment and she frowns. “Well…” I hand her a twenty dollar bill, “Maybe you could ask your boss over there?”

She reaches for the bill but I don’t let go. Her freckled cheeks blaze to nearly the color of her bright red hair. “No, I, uh,” she stammers, “We can make an exception this one time.”

I reward her with a huge grin and nod. “Thanks, Red.”

When she moves out of the way, I climb out of my baby and accept the ticket from her. Then, I stride into the lobby. It’s already two minutes after noon, and when I scan the area, I don’t see Tori anywhere. Strolling over to the panel by the elevators, I note that Abbott and Taft is on the forty-fifth floor.

The ride up gives me time to check my appearance over in the brass reflection on the back wall. My hair is a big fucking mess—but I styled it that way, so it’s okay. Behind me, a woman in a suit watches me from the corner of her eye as I check myself out. I wink at her and nearly chuckle aloud when she gasps and diverts her attention elsewhere. By the time I’ve made it to Tori’s floor, the woman has stepped off onto another floor, leaving me to enter the lion’s den alone.

As soon as I step into the pretentious offices of Abbott and Taft, I know I was accurate in calling it the lion’s den. A stiff, powerful vibe courses through the air, almost rendering me immobile. Pushing past the awkward, out-of-place feeling I have at being in such a sterile workplace, I stride over to the receptionist and beam at her.

She drops her phone into the cradle and her cheeks redden. “Can I help you, sir?”

“I’m here to see Tori, er, Victoria Larkin. We have a date,” I tell her point blank.

The alpha lioness is whom I’m stalking.

Her eyes widen in surprise. “Oh, I see. Um, let me, um,” she stutters while fumbling over her phone before punching in a few numbers, “…ring for her assistant, Stacey.”

A few minutes later, a woman in her late thirties in a cheap suit which doesn’t compare to the casual threads Tori donned on Saturday regards me with a confused look.

“Can I help you? I’m Stacey Cantrell, Ms. Larkin’s assistant.”

I saunter over to her and hold out my hand. “Chase Monroe. I’m taking Tori to lunch.”

Her eyes dart back and forth as she shakes my hand, horror painting her features. “Oh, my. I see,” she mutters. “I didn’t see you on her schedule. If I missed it, she won’t be pleased with me. Please, follow me over to my desk and I’ll double check.”

I follow the woman who now walks on wobbly legs and her hands tremor beside her. Jesus, is Tori the fucking she-devil around here?

“Now, if you’ll hold just a moment, let me check the calendar,” she rushes out in exasperation.

I nod and lean over her desk picking up an “urgent notice.”

Ms. Larkin, please call your mother about the rehearsal dinner next Saturday night. She needs to know if you’ll be attending so she can RSVP.

Yanking a pen from the cup, I scribble out a message on the paper, earning me a horrified stare from Stacey.

Yes. Plus one.

I smirk at her and start making my way to the only office with the grayed out glass. Victoria J. Larkin is emblazoned on the glass beside the door.

“What are you doing?” she hisses and follows after me. “She’s working on a very important case and has asked that nobody disturb her. Not even me!”

Shrugging my shoulders, I toss her an undeterred smile. “I’m not nobody. I’m Chase, and we have a date.”

“Please, sir, you—” she tries, but I’m already pushing through the door.

My lips curve up into a grin to see Tori’s brows furrowed in concentration with a pen between her teeth. Tendrils of blonde have escaped their nest on her head and I decide that I’m making it my mission to see her hair down.

God, she’s beautiful.

Her eyes lift to mine and annoyance instantly flits over her expression.

“You’re late,” I inform her as I stride into her office and plop down in the chair in front of her. Her brow raises when I pick up her signed Cubs baseball from its stand and toss it back and forth between my hands. “Don’t you know time is money?”

She rolls her eyes at having her words thrown back at her and shoots Stacey behind me a scathing look. “I thought I was clear when I said absolutely no visitors.”

Stacey begins stuttering but I hold up the ball in the air to draw Tori’s attention back to me. “It’s not her fault, Tori. I barged in. Now,” I beam, “catch.”

She squeaks and catches the ball before abruptly standing from her seat. “Chase, you need to leave,” she grumbles. “I’m sorry. I know we had lunch plans, but as you can see, I’m buried in work and I don’t have time for…”

Her stomach groans in protest and I raise a smug brow at her.

“To eat?” I question and stand to match her stance. She sets to frantically tucking the loose blonde strands of hair behind her ear.

“Yes, to eat.”

I shrug. “I call bullshit. Come on, let’s go. We can eat on the run. I need your help with something.”

She tosses a pleading look toward Stacey but thankfully her assistant is on my side.

“With all due respect, Ms. Larkin, I believe I can handle any fires that should arise. An hour in the sunshine will do you some good.”

Tori gapes at her and I take the moment to pounce. “Thanks, Stace. You’re a good employee.”

I round the corner of her statuesque mahogany desk and snatch her hand that still holds the baseball. “Play time’s over, Grumpy,” I tell her as I steal the ball and put it back onto its holder. “You probably won’t be so hungry once you have some meat in you.”

Stacey chokes down a giggle to which Tori sends death rays at her.

“Don’t kill her,” I chuckle. “I tend to influence those around me and cause trouble.”

“You don’t influence me,” she pouts, but bends to pick her purse up from the floor.

“Not yet, beautiful. Not yet.”

Stacey regards us with a shit eating grin on her face. I wink at her as I drag my date out of her office. Tori attempts to jerk her hand free from mine as I haul her past the desks and other offices, but I grip her tighter. I’m met with many shocked stares along the way.

Ice Queen needs a little thawing it would seem.

I can imagine the entire office would agree with me.

When we finally make it into the elevators and the doors close, she yanks her hand away and unleashes her fury.

“You’re an asshole, Chase,” she huffs. “You know that? You can’t just manhandle me whenever you want.”

She’s glaring at me with her tiny hands on her small waist, her purse hanging from her shoulder. The pencil skirt is tight and sexy as hell. I want to hold her hips too. Encroaching on her, I step until I’m in her space and watch with smug satisfaction as she retreats—right into the fucking wall. Once she’s trapped, I slip my hands to her waist and cover her hands with mine.

“I think you like being manhandled.”

Her eyes widen in shock and for a moment, the vicious divorce lawyer has nothing to say. A strand of hair is stuck to her suckable lips so I lift a hand to her face. Her breath catches and I inspect her features. The warring behind her eyes—whether or not to push me away or pull me to her. The way her lips pop open and closed like a cute little fish.

I give her a small smile as I drag my thumb along her soft cheek and tug the hair from her mouth. She exhales the breath she was holding and I smell peppermint on her lips. When I tuck the strand back behind her ear, her eyes flutter closed. Not one to miss an opportunity, I gently kiss the corner of her cheek where it meets her mouth.

“You smell good,” I tell her as I step away, as if I didn’t just kiss the sexy vixen—no matter how innocent it was.

She’s still faltering from our exchange when the elevator doors open to the lobby.

“Ready for an adventure?”

Her head is curtly shaking back and forth in protest, but I snatch her hand and guide her out of the elevator and through the lobby. When we step outside of the building, I’m glad to see my baby—sitting right out front like I left her.

“This is your car?” she questions in surprise, but I don’t miss her impressed tone.

“My baby,” I correct. “She’s been with me since Christmas.”

I hand the male valet the ticket and a tip which earns me an appreciative nod.

“After you,” I tell her as I open the door for her.

She gapes at me as if she’s never dated a gentleman before. Jealousy knifes its way through my chest from the thought of her dating anyone. I want to be the one to open her up and discover the true self she hides deep inside. Nobody else would handle her the way she needs to be handled.