Missed Connections (24 page)

That wipes the smile from my face. “How do you mean? The retreat’s in a few days, and it’s almost the end of the month.”

“We’d be taking four days from your check. So, to make that up, you can come in early and get caught up on laundry and answer phones. Oh! And we can have you come and babysit our boys on Sunday.”

“So I’d be working twelve-hour shifts all week, and then babysitting for you all day Sunday?”

“Isn’t it great when things come together? It’s perfect! Ask and you shall receive,” she trills.

Phyllis is pissed and Fern’s thrilled, so that can’t be a completely bad thing, right? And who knows, maybe the time away at a quiet retreat will give me some perspective and stress relief so I can make a decision about which man is the one. On the other hand, it looks like I’ve been sucked into attending their course. “Are you sure Phyllis wouldn’t like to go instead? I’m so new, and she would get more out of it than I would, surely? I’d hate to take such an amazing experience from someone.”

Phyllis’s triumph returns. “I’ve already done the course three times. You’re right. Because you’re so new, it will be a fabulous new addition to the energy at the retreat. So fresh. You’ll learn so much. I remember the first time I went. It completely blew my mind! I came back an entirely different person. Maybe you will too.”

That’s what I’m afraid of.

Chapter 26

Later, at home, I’m pacing around my living room with a comically large glass of white wine. The added stress of Fern’s course makes my head throb with every beat of my heart. Making a decision between the two men in my life would simplify things so much.

If it’s about a physical connection, that’s not fair, because Blake and I have only touched a couple of times, and they were regrettably platonic. That said, the one time he practically melted me with his hands, so who knows how great our chemistry could be if we made love. There was something there, or the potential for something there, so Jack and my amazing physical relationship wins, but it’s not by one hundred percent.

And the emotional connection I have with Blake should be the clincher, but I’ve had moments of that with Jack too. And I haven’t really talked much with him or given him a chance to be more than sex. He was right about that.

Jack has the physical edge with the potential for more emotions. Blake has the emotional edge with the potential for more chemistry. What’s more important in a relationship in the long term? I’d say emotional, which would mean Blake is the one, but Jack and I started as friends, so I know we’d get along well long-term.

I pace around my coffee table, waiting for a bolt of clarity to hit and tell me which man is the one. They both deserve an answer, but I don’t know what to do. My stomach’s been killing me for days.

Time to talk to the one person who will tell it like it is and kick my ass into gear.

Pete picks up on the fourth ring. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Hey, what’s up?”

“Calling to work out the details of our dinner date, and also I have some issues right now that I could really use your keen observation on, oh sage one.”

“Okay.”

Now that I can fully vent, I don’t even know where to start. I’m overwhelmed by choices and hippie bullshit. I guess I’ll start there. “Everything is a mess right now. My bitchy coworker I told you about has gotten way worse, and I’m pretty sure she’s trying to get me fired and making me look bad whenever she can. Ziggy and Fern hate me and have no boundaries, and have made me start wearing these god-awful smocks to work every day. They’re a horrid shade, like half of a rainbow, and make me look sick and the fabric is stiff and makes me look about as curvy as a refrigerator. I got railroaded into doing one of their stupid New Age courses, which is four days long! And it’s way out in Jersey, so it’s isolated, and I read on the pamphlet online that we’re completely cut off from the outside world! It’s going to be like
Survivor
without the film crew, but full of hippies trying to stare into my eyes and break down my boundaries and make me talk about uncomfortable things.”

“Wow.”

“I’m not even done yet. After the course—which freaks me out because I’m pretty sure it’s a cult—I’ll be short on rent, so they’re ‘helping me out’ by letting me work twelve-hour shifts all that week and then babysitting their children on Sunday! Can you believe that? Twelve-hour shifts for a week after doing their hippie crap. I’ll be wrecked.”

“Well—”

“And that’s not even touching on my personal life, Pete. I swear, it never rains; it pours. You know that I’ve been seeing Jack, but we’re just, well, physical. I can’t be with him for obvious reasons, not least of which is the fact it would ruin the friendship. Or, at least, I thought there were other reasons we couldn’t be together until very recently and now I’m not so sure. But our chemistry is amazing. I’m trying really hard not to get into specifics and gross you out because he’s your brother—”

“Thank you, I appreciate that.”

“—but I really like him. And he’s asked me to give him a fair chance at being something more than friends with benefits. And I really want to.” I’m going to wear a hole in the varnish from pacing on it. “But there’s this other guy I met online, and we have this amazing connection. We didn’t really meet online. Technically, he works with me. Well, not with me; he’s that massage therapist I told you about, but he’s not a hippie, and we have these amazing conversations, and I think I’m falling in love with him too. I don’t know what to do, Pete.”

He clears his throat and is quiet for a minute. “Wow. Holy first-world problems, girlie.”

“What?” He sounds so uninterested that I get a weird feeling in my chest. “Okay, are you mad at me because you think I’m cheating on Jack? Because Blake and I have barely even touched—and we’ve never kissed. Or even hugged. I’d never do something cruel to Jack. You know me better than that.” I need his validation that it’s not really cheating despite the gnawing in my gut telling me it is.

“It has nothing to do with that. Jack’s a big boy, and you’re a big girl. But your problems are so fucking meaningless. You have a job and two guys who want to be with you, and you think those are problems?”

Shock springs tears to my eyes. “I can’t believe you’re talking to me like this. We always talk to each other about our lives.”

He sighs. “You know what? Maybe I’m being harsh, but it’s the truth. Today, I worked on someone whose hair was falling out from cancer—a regular client who’s full of life. She’s an emergency room nurse who busts her ass every day helping people. She’s one of the best people I’ve ever met, best attitude, brightest smile in the world. She started chemo a couple of weeks ago. Today, when I was washing her hair, it started falling out in the sink in these huge, sickening clumps that stuck to my hands and clogged the sink, and she apologized and cried over a disease that’s killing her.”

The tears that gathered for myself fall for a stranger, burning my face. I feel an inch tall. “Pete, I am so sorry. I can’t imagine how scary and sad that must have been.”

“No, you can’t imagine it. This woman, a bright spot in my salon who I see every two months, might die. She’s really sick and she could be gone, and the only way I’d know is an obituary. So I just can’t muster the same amount of worry for your situation.”

I don’t know what to say. “I’m so sorry.”

“Look, I know I’m being harsh, but just make a decision and stick with it. In your case, nobody’s dying, Sarah. You can change any of the things you just told me. You have the power to do that. My client doesn’t. She’d probably love to have any or all of your ‘problems’ right now instead of the things she’s facing. I don’t know. I’ll talk to you later.”

He hangs up, and I’m at a loss because he’s right, but that still doesn’t help me make a decision. It just makes me feel even shittier about myself than I did ten minutes ago.

Chapter 27

How do I know you’re not some curvy Norwegian housewife?
I ask, hoping to provoke Blake into giving me a little more. After eight days, I’ve caved and answered Blake’s last message, asking if the hippies chained me to my desk and he needs to come rescue me. Just knowing he’s here helps soothe me—something I don’t deserve right now but desperately need.

No reply for a moment. Not a good sign. Have I offended him? Then,
Check your email.

The photo quality isn’t great, taken with a webcam in a dark room, but the sliver of his skin I can see is still damp and he’s wearing nothing but a towel clinging to his hips. A hand-written sign says “Norwegian housewife” and covers his abs. Damn. All that’s visible is a very prominent bulge behind the towel.
Damn.

Wow.
Oh my God.

Him: Yeah?

Me: Mmm-hmm.

Him: You’ve seen what I’m wearing. Are you going to return the favor?

Man, I shouldn’t, but I need a distraction right now. And Blake definitely fits the bill.
I’m not wearing anything sexy.

Him: Can I be the judge of that?

My heart pounds and I bite my lip, but I trust Blake, so I angle the laptop down and take a picture. I send the shot of me in a tank top and panties back to him.

Him: Holy shit.

My face is going to start a fire.
Yeah?

Him: You couldn’t have picked a sexier thing to wear. I wish I was there right now.

My fingers fly over the keys, and I hit Enter before I can talk myself out of it.
What would you do if you were here right now?

Him: You don’t even want to know.

Shivers cascade across my skin.
Oh, but I do.
Are we really going to do this?

Him: You’d feel me standing behind you. I’d gently move your hair to kiss the back of your neck.

Me: I really like that.

Him: I’d kneel beside you and kiss the delicate skin just below your ear where it meets your jaw. Do you know that place?

Yes.
Yes.

Him: Touch that place. On the right side.

I do.
Then what?

Him: I’d reach down, and through the tank top, I’d gently palm your left breast. Are you doing it?

My skin burns, nerves hyperalert as though it’s Blake’s hand, not my own, moving to my breast.
Yes.

Him: I’d run the pad of my thumb over your nipple, maybe use my thumbnail over the material to tease it until it’s hard. I’d make it hurt just a little bit, then squeeze and release it, and move my hand…down.

Heat flows through me and gathers between my legs. They’re just words on a screen, but I’m already wet.
And then what?

God, Sarah. I need to hear your voice.
He sends a request for a voice chat and I click Accept, fingers fumbling like I’m drunk. I feel drunk.

“Are you there?”

Him: I’m going to keep typing, but I need to hear you.

I want so much more. I want his voice too, but I’ll take what I can get. “Okay.” My voice is barely louder than a whisper. I’m afraid to speak too loudly and shatter whatever this is that’s happening right now. “Please don’t stop.” I’m afraid I’ll chicken out, and I need this so much tonight, need to feel a connection with someone who cares about me. Life has rubbed me raw, and I need someone who treats my heart with delicate hands.

Him: I can’t stop, Sarah. I’m so hard. I want you so bad right now it hurts.

A moan escapes my throat at the thought of him looking at my picture, thinking of me and touching himself. “Please, don’t stop.”

Him: I’d pull the chair out, turn you in it so I could kneel between your legs, stroke your thighs up and down, getting closer to your clit each time until I just barely brush against it. Slowly slide your panties off, Sarah.

Like I’m under a spell, I comply. “They’re gone.”

Him: Are you wet?

Without even touching myself, I know the answer. “Yes.”

Him: I’d kiss a trail down your chest and belly, and I’d lick and suck at your clit until your hips were jumping all over the place.

My hand starts to move between my legs.

Him: Agonizingly slowly, I’d finger you, watching your skin flush and burn until you begged me for more.

“I want you inside me.” Desire loosens my tongue and my reservations.

Him: I’d make you come first, then I’d pull you with me to the floor and take off that little tank top and bra, and cover every inch of skin beneath it with kisses.

How can I be so close already?

Him: I’d move back down and tease your clit more, then when you couldn’t stand it any longer, I’d thrust my hard cock inside your tight, wet pussy. But I’d go slow to make it last, so you could savor every inch of me filling you.

I slide my fingers inside, imagining it’s his dick, feeling myself clench around my fingers, gasping at how sensitive I am, how close I am to coming. “Yeah. More.”

Him: God, your voice is doing things to me. I couldn’t take it a moment longer. I’d fuck you as hard as I could just to see how loud I could make you scream my name. Just to fill the room with your pleasure.

Incoherent noises come from my mouth.

Him: Say it, Sarah. Come with me. Say my name.

“Blake,” I moan. A few more seconds and pure heat crashes over me. “God, Blake!” My back arches and I shake with the intensity of my orgasm. When I come back down to earth, a shyness slightly taints the moment. “I’ve—” Oh. He’s disconnected the voice chat.