“You literally just did that. I bet you’ve already started making a mental list...” She tilted her head as she teased me.
“Fine...” I admitted with a drawn sigh. “It’s hard not to compare. Max represents everything I never want to experience again, so yeah—I guess I’m comparing.”
“Well, then let’s make a list of the things that aren’t the same about them. Max came into the break room at work and forced himself on you, kissed you, and demanded that you go out with him. Adam forgot to make coffee, had a fairly meaningful conversation if you’re not embellishing the banter, and wasn’t pushy when you said no.”
“He was a little pushy...” I ran my finger along the edge of the wine glass.
“Asking if you have a boyfriend or a husband isn’t pushy, it’s fairly normal.” She shook her head as she smiled. “You need to go out with Adam. Hell, if I wasn’t with Rolando, I’d be asking you for his number just based on what you’ve told me. He’s a former soldier? He’s a legend in your industry? He’s hot as fuck? Come on, Abby. This isn’t rocket science.”
“You’re right.” I ran my hand along the back of my neck as the wine made my upper torso warm when the alcohol started to settle in my veins. “What was I thinking?”
“You need to get used to this, Abby. You’re not a virgin anymore. Men will be able to smell the fact you’re down to fuck, so you should expect to have a lot more offers like the one you got today.” She grinned. “It’s pheromones or some shit.”
“Great...” I grumbled even though I knew she was just being silly.
I GOT TO WORK EARLY the next morning and started working on a couple of storyboards for Energy Enhanced commercials. It really wasn’t my area of expertise, but if Adam was going to want me to be the Team Lead, I would need to be involved in each facet of the campaign. I was feeling a bit excited when I saw them come together. The soreness was a lot less pronounced than it had been the previous day and it was almost non-existent unless I shifted a certain way. I decided that if Adam asked me out on another date, I was going to accept his offer. There was no reason to reject him. He seemed like he could be Mr. Right—a stark contrast from Mr. Mistake. I emailed the two storyboards to Adam and then started to scan my emails. My stomach flipp
ed upside down when I saw one from Max Martin.
We should get together again. I had a lot of fun.
My fingers froze on the keyboard and I felt the hairs on the top of my head tingle. My throat started getting dry and when I tried to wash away the feeling with coffee, it just seemed to stick against the back of my throat. Max wasn’t supposed to ask me out for a second date. He was never supposed to contact me again. When I regained control of my senses, I hit the reply button and stared at the screen. I started typing a long response, bullet-pointing all of the reasons I didn’t want to go out with him again, starting with how much of an asshole he was and ending with a nice play on the word mistake, but after I read over it, I realized it was just nonsense and babble. I deleted everything I had typed and instead responded with just two words.
Not interested.
Chapter 12: Max
A few hours earlier
It was a tough morning. Benjamin saw a commercial on television for a local fair and got agitated when I said we wouldn’t have time to go. What started as a simple discussion quickly turned into a full-blown meltdown. It had been a while since he had one of those, so I tried to be gentle and understanding. I knew it seemed like the children in the commercial were having fun, and Benjamin believed he could join them, but the last time we took him to a crowded, public place, it had not gone very well. His doctor recommended no more than two to three people at a time while we worked on his tolerance and ability to handle crowds. On top of Benjamin’s meltdown, work was already blowing up my phone, and Ms. Ruth was running late because of traffic.
“I’m here!” Ms. Ruth pushed open the door and her words were barely heard of Benjamin’s screaming. “Oh, dear... What happened?”
“He wanted to go to the fair. I told him it wasn’t a good idea and we probably wouldn’t have time with my work schedule—now we’re here.” I scratched my head and let out a sigh.
“Let me talk to him.” Ms. Ruth walked into the living room and sat down on the floor beside Benjamin.
Ms. Ruth was so good with him. I felt guilty when I watched her easily calm him down with a few gentle words. I was an awful father that had no idea how to help my son overcome his challenges. When he was calm enough to give me a hug, I walked out the front door swallowing a lump in my throat that clenched my esophagus. I had to be a better father—hell, I had to be a better man. Unfortunately, I couldn’t dwell on it too much because I had a lot of things going on at work I had to address. The stock market took a dive when it opened and there were several clients that seemed to be more agitated than Benjamin was. I fired off emails to my staff, giving them directions for handling some of our high-profile clients. By the time I got to the office, things seemed to have settled down.
“Your coffee, Mr. Martin?” My secretary, Amanda, stood and handed me my normal morning request as I walked up to her desk.
“Thank you.” I smiled as I felt the first sip hit my tongue. “Any messages?”
“Nothing pressing. You handled most of it before you got here.” She leaned towards the phone as it rang.
I walked into my office and closed the door. The city spread out beneath my window with a view I rarely took time to appreciate. I started going through my email and then picked up my phone. It suddenly hit me that I hadn’t heard a single word from Abby since our encounter. That was very unusual behavior for someone I shoved my cock into—especially a virgin. My mind started to drift back to our encounter. There was something different about Abby and I really couldn’t put my finger on exactly what it was. When I met her at the club, she seemed like every other lost soul that didn’t know what they wanted until I served it up to them on a silver platter. I had already stepped outside my normal routine by pursuing her after being rejected at the club and before I really had time to think about it, I was sending her an email asking for a second date.
N OT INTERESTED.
“What the fuck?” I felt my temper rising as I stared at her response.
I hit reply and immediately started typing a response, making it very clear that she belonged to me and I would have her again whenever I wanted her. When my fingers slowed down and I read what I had typed, I closed the email without sending it. I stared at her response, letting it bounce around in my head. The response was exactly why I kept my emotions and my lust separated. I swore to never let another woman tempt my heart after my divorce and the first time I dipped my toe into the water to test the temperature, I got rejected. I sat at my desk trying to remember how real romance worked. What did people normally do after a first date if they wanted a second? Flowers seemed to help me get the first one—maybe that would work again.
You might not be interested, but I am. I think we both know I normally get what I want.
The flowers would be an offline response to her email and a dash of romance, all mixed into a pretty bouquet. I continued working and when I got a notification that they had been delivered, I checked my email constantly for the next couple of hours, waiting on some sort of response. My ego started to get the better of me when the day ended, so I decided to have my driver swing by her office. If she wanted to tell me no, I was going to make her say it to my face. If I could catch her alone, I would let my lips do the talking and see if she really wanted to resist round two. I walked into the building and approached her desk, but it was empty.
“Fuck...” I stared at the roses I had sent her. They were in the garbage and the note was ripped up, scattered throughout the remnants of my romantic attempt.