The Other Side of Someday (24 page)

Starting to prune, I decided it was probably time to get out of the bath and prepare for my date with Mr. Banana Hammock. I perused my overflowing wardrobe, selecting a bright red sundress. Most redheads couldn’t pull off wearing red, but something about the vibrant color, the deep auburn hue of my hair, and my fair skin made red stand out on me. Checking my reflection in the mirror, I was satisfied with the way the halter top of the dress looked. It was fitted to my waist, then flowed out to my knees. Sliding on a pair of zebra print heels, I instantly gained three inches.

As I was applying my makeup, my phone buzzed. I shuffled across my bedroom and grabbed my cell to see a text from Sebby.

Getting ready for your date?

I typed a quick reply.

Yes. Why are you checking up on me? Don’t you have better things to do on a Tuesday night?

Nothing’s more important than making sure you’re okay. Have fun with Mr. Banana Hammock. I expect a full report tomorrow morning.

My fingers hovered over the screen of my phone as I tried to come up with some witty, sarcastic response. I wondered whether it was simply a coincidence that we had given Owen the same nickname, but snapped out of my thoughts when I spied the time. Tossing my phone onto the bed, I applied the rest of my makeup and took one last look at my reflection, happy with the final result. I sent one more text to Sebby.

I’m leaving. Wish me luck
.

Grabbing a cashmere wrap, I placed my phone in my clutch just as it buzzed again. I almost fell down the stairs when I looked at the screen and saw a photo of a banana between two large walnuts. I should have hated him for that, but I couldn’t help but laugh at his twisted sense of humor. It was silly and a bit immature, but it was what I had always been attracted to in a man. Hell, that was what had drawn me to Will all those years ago…his easy-going, good-natured attitude. He was the class clown, always lightening the mood, but over the years, his sense of humor became more crass and awkward, never maturing past the age of sixteen.

After saying a quick goodbye to Sport, I left my condo. Music blaring from Sebby’s place filled the corridor. I shook my head and grinned as I made my way toward the elevator,
Cruel Summer
serenading me while I waited. The irony of Sebby playing Bananarama was not lost on me.

The butterflies in my stomach grew stronger as I drove south down Ocean and toward the pier, pulling into the parking lot beneath the restaurant. I handed the keys to the valet and headed toward the entrance. As I walked on the sidewalk, a man with disheveled sandy hair strode past me carrying a bright yellow surfboard, reminding me of a banana. I halted momentarily to regain my composure before I began laughing like a mad woman.

“Fucking Sebby,” I mumbled, climbing the stairs to the foyer of the restaurant. “It was a speedo.”

“Welcome to The Lobster,” an effeminate twenty-something man said as I entered.

“I’m supposed to be meeting someone at the bar.”

“Baylee?” a deep voice with a slight Irish brogue sounded. The way my name rolled off his tongue sent shivers down my spine, but the second I looked at him, I feared I wouldn’t be able to keep a straight face. I was already picturing him in a big banana costume. I needed to get that image out of my head.

The host raised his eyebrows at me, gesturing to where the voice obviously stood, and I took a long, measured breath, slowly turning around.

“Owen?” I tried to hide that I already knew it was him.

He beamed, walking toward me. Placing his hand on the small of my lower back, he leaned toward me and kissed my cheek. “Pleasure to meet you, love.”

I subtly inhaled his scent, not wanting him to think I was some crazy girl who went around sniffing everyone she encountered. It was a musky aroma, just like I imagined. He smelled like an aftershave commercial, he was as sleek and smooth as a designer car commercial, and the way his smoldering eyes were trained on me reminded me of an underwear commercial.

For briefs, naturally.

“How did you know it was me?” I asked breathlessly, pulling away. My voice was throaty and seductive, completely unlike me. Maybe that was what relationships were about. Allowing that one person to bring out a side of you that you never knew existed.

“Cora told me to look for a beautiful redhead with an adorable southern accent. She was spot-on in her description.” He winked and a small smile crossed his chiseled face, highlighting a set of boyish dimples. By appearance, I estimated he was in his late thirties, but when he smiled and showed me those dimples, he shaved at least ten years off his age. He looked mature, yet fun at the same time, and I found myself intrigued, despite his questionable choice in swimwear. The devil was back on my shoulder, telling me to just get on with it and drag my tongue along his face, rip his clothes off, and jump on him so I could feel his beautifully defined and sculpted body against mine. The image in my head was quite nice…until my fantasy version of Owen wasn’t completely naked. Instead, he was pressing me against the wall, thrusting between my legs…wearing a freaking banana hammock…
 

Speedo!
It was a goddamn speedo!

“Baylee… Where did you go, darling?”

A smile grew on my lips as I tried to keep my eyes trained on his. I was scared that if I looked below his waist, he would no longer be wearing the dark jeans he had on, but would be sporting a bright yellow speedo instead.

“I’m sorry. I…” What could I possibly say? That I was picturing him in a speedo because I had spied on him earlier and saw him in one? That would go over well.
Hi. Nice to meet you, Owen. I’m Baylee. I know it’s your first time meeting me, but I decided to stalk you on Facebook, then spent the afternoon by the pool with my friend, ogling you in your banana hammock…

Speedo!

“I could use a drink.”

“After you, love.” He placed his hand on my lower back, leading me up a short flight of stairs into an open-air bar, space heaters warming the area now that the sun had set over the ocean.

“Is that an Irish thing?” I asked.

“What?”

“The word love.”

“It’s a term of endearment. Here.” He gestured to a table overlooking the pier and ocean below us. “I had them reserve a table for us. Hope this is okay.”

“Of course.” I smiled at him, giving him a bonus point for holding the chair out for me. Will had never done that. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure.” He slid into the chair opposite me, and I sat enjoying the music of the lapping ocean waves combined with the typical sounds of busy Santa Monica. “It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” he commented, staring at the horizon.

“It is. I always dreamed of coming out here.”

“Me, too,” Owen said.

“How long have you been here?”

“In California, about fifteen years. In the States, nearly all my life.”

“Yet you still have the accent.”

“It comes and goes. I just got back from visiting some extended family who still live overseas.” A waiter approached our table and Owen turned his attention from me. “We’ll each have a glass of the Moet & Chandon.”

“Yes, sir,” the waiter responded, nodding as he retreated from our table.

I was completely taken aback by Owen’s bold personality. “Umm… I’m perfectly capable of ordering for myself.”

“I apologize.” He raised his arm, summoning the waiter back. “I may have misspoken,” he said to him. “The lady would prefer to order for herself.”

My face flushed in embarrassment, but I hated the idea of any man thinking he could get away with making decisions for me. I had enough of that during the past ten years of my life. “The Moet is fine. Thank you.”

The waiter simply nodded once more, running from our table before he was summoned back again.

“So I was right,” Owen said, breaking the awkward silence.

“About what?”

“About what you like to drink. It’s a talent of mine.”

“And what made you think I wanted champagne?”

“Your dress.” His eyes sprang to life, fire building inside them.

“What about my dress?” I asked flirtatiously, momentarily forgiving him for assuming he knew what I wanted to drink.

“It’s sophisticated, yet fun. That seems to be the type of girl you are. You’re boisterous, your personality loud at times, but you’re still full of grace and poise. So forgive me for being presumptuous, but all that points to you wanting a glass of champagne.”

“You’ve known me less than five minutes,” I commented, skeptical.
Not counting the few hours I spent spying on you
. “How did you figure all that out?”

A dazzling smile crossed his face, those sinful dimples popping, just as the waiter returned with our drinks. “I’m a photographer. It’s my job to be observant, to see things most people don’t. You can’t get those one-in-a-million photographs if you don’t take in your surroundings.”

“I’ll drink to that.” I raised my glass and took a sip of my drink. Owen’s eyes never strayed from me, penetrating me, unnerving me. Placing my glass back on the table, I fidgeted with the hem of my dress, crossing and uncrossing my legs in the stiff silence.

“Cora mentioned you just moved into her building a few months ago,” Owen commented finally. I nodded. “The penthouse, right?” I smiled sheepishly. He whistled, drawing my attention to his full lips. “I’m impressed you can afford that place, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“I inherited my dad’s lumber company when he died,” I explained. “Someone else runs it because, let’s be honest, I don’t know the first thing about that company…or lumber, for that matter. I’m the majority shareholder so I reap a lot of the benefits. If I so choose, I don’t have to work a day for the rest of my life.”

“Aren’t you bored?”

“I haven’t had time to be bored,” I answered, thinking how quickly two months had passed. Truthfully, when I first moved out here, giving up my life and career back home, I definitely thought I’d be bored living off my inheritance and not working. “I’ve been keeping myself pretty busy.”

“Doing what?”

“The usual stuff.” I shrugged, not sure I wanted to share any details. It was personal to me.

“Like what? I can tell there’s a story there.”

I studied him, trying to find a way to change the subject so I didn’t have to talk about it. But wasn’t I here to see if we clicked? Weren’t first dates all about sharing bits and pieces of yourself with someone else?

“When my mom was pregnant with me, she kept a journal chronicling her adventures during those eight months.”

“What happened?” he asked. I furrowed my brow. “I could be wrong, but something about the wistful look on your face makes me think something happened to her.”

I nodded and proceeded to tell him how my mother was diagnosed with brain cancer just weeks after finding out she was pregnant with me, how she kept a journal, and how, one day, I found her bucket list tucked inside the pages of that journal.

“A bucket list?”

“Yeah. She had scrawled a list of things she wanted to do before she died.”

“Did she get to all of them?”

I shook my head. “No. Considering she was pregnant and sick, there were things on there she definitely couldn’t do, but that didn’t stop her from dreaming of doing them. So that’s what I’ve been doing. Finishing her bucket list for her. And I’ve been writing about it as I go.”

“So you’re keeping a journal, too?”

“Not exactly…”

“Then what?” he pushed, intrigued.

“I’m using the list more like an inspiration.”

“Inspiration for what?”

“To write a book. I’ve always wanted to, but never knew what my story was. I’m still not sure what it is, but this experience, doing all these things I never would have had the courage to do… It’s kind of opened up my mind.”

“Well, cheers to a new adventure.” He raised his glass and I followed suit, taking a polite sip of my champagne. I really wanted to guzzle it back to settle my nerves, but even I knew there was a thin line between social drinker and raging alcoholic.

“So,” I started, trying to clear the serious air at the table, “is there really a pub on every corner in Dublin like I’ve read?”

He laughed, and I was happy our conversation had turned to something lighter. Death was never good first date dinner conversation. “More than on every corner. Dublin has more pubs per capita than any other city in the world. I’m also pretty sure it has a higher rate of alcoholics, but I can’t be certain.” He winked. “Are you hungry? We can order some food, if you’d like. They have this amazing halibut that’s cooked in a banana leaf—”

I choked on my champagne, spraying it everywhere.

“My god, Baylee. Are you okay?” He was out of his chair in less than a second, trying to help me through my choking and coughing fit that quickly turned into laughter. He slinked back to his side of the table and stared at me with an inquisitive gaze. “What’s so funny?”

Wiping the tears that had formed in my eyes, I couldn’t help but giggle. “Sorry. I’m just remembering something my neighbor told me earlier.” I took a deep breath, trying to settle down, Bananarama playing in my mind.

Freaking Sebby
.

~~~~~~~~~~

“C
AN
I
SEE
YOU
again?” Owen asked as he walked me toward the valet stand after a surprisingly enjoyable dinner that lasted longer than I was anticipating. He told me about all the exotic places he had visited on various shoots. I mostly listened, living vicariously through him, dreaming about the day I’d hop on a plane to some South American jungle or remote tropical island.

“Really? My laughing fit didn’t scare you off?” I pulled my shawl tighter around me. The summer-like temperatures that had been present earlier in the day had given way to a slight chill. That was one of the things I had learned about living in California. The temperature could swing from eighty degrees in the afternoon to barely fifty once the sun went down, especially this time of year.

His fingers grazed my arm. Before I knew what was happening, he had me ensnared in his embrace, one hand on my lower back, the other cupping my cheek. “No, Baylee. It did not.” He licked his lips while he studied my face, as if he were imprinting each dip and curve to memory. “In fact…” He pulled me closer, trapping me in place. And I wanted to be trapped by this strong, powerful, dominating man, if for no other reason than it had been so long since I had been intimate with someone. “I think that’s what I’m drawn to.”