“Take your time. I’ve got nothing but that, apparently.” I let out a sigh, thinking about all the things that need to get done around here. The new inventory just came in. We’ll need to process that, have a few models come in for our website, and then decide what to put in the display windows. Also, I haven’t brought this to Kelsey’s attention yet, but it’s time to revamp the shop. Gray is definitely on its way out. More boho-type vibes with a dash of the sixties and seventies are taking over, and if we want to stay fresh, so to speak, we need to work on that soon.
“Okay, so I think I’ve got my head wrapped around this whole scenario. Tate, who by the way, Deke said at the wedding is completely unattainable, going so far as to say you’ve met your match. How I remember that I have no idea. That being said, why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Because this right here, that’s why I haven’t told a single freaking soul. I wasn’t letting my misery love company.
“I know that we agreed to one night, and I’ve just been stuck in my own head. It’s not like I’ll ever see him again anyways. I just wish he hadn’t ruined me for life.” I’ve really got to snap out of this woe-is-me crap; it’s not who I am, and I’m not going to let it take over my life. So, I can’t fuck ‘em and forget ‘em like I could BT, before Tate. Worse things could happen, you know, like not achieving an orgasm again. Don’t think I didn’t contemplate making a doctor’s appointment. I almost did, then I figured my gynecologist would send me to a therapist instead.
“Well, you do know he comes over for poker night when he can get away from work, right? It’s not like you couldn’t drop by unannounced. Maybe you two could just hook up until he’s out of your system.” Jesus, that sounds like a fantastic idea. Until Tate puts two and two together, then he’ll think I’m a total stalker.
“As much as that idea sounds like the best one yet, I don’t know if it’ll work. I mean, if he comes over to play poker with the guys, you’d think he’d ask about me, if he were still interested.” Our fingers are still connected, Kels squeezing mine, clearly hearing the turmoil on what to do in my voice.
“Ugh, Em, these are men. They don’t talk about one another, and if Tate did ask Deke, it’s not like he’d put two and two together. I love my husband dearly, but the man has either me or the business on his mind more than anything else.” Kelsey sits up, bringing me with her. “That means I’ll text you Sunday if he comes, you’ll drop by because a girl always needs her sister, and it’s not like I hang out with the guys. Gross. They’re more workaholics than us, not to mention the beer and food they consume; it’s ridiculous.”
“Okay, fine. Am I really pathetic that I’m this desperate?” I reply.
“Nope, not at all. Me thinks you really have met your match, and you may not see it yet, but I’m thinking Tate just might be your one.” My eyes couldn’t roll back in my head any further. No one said a word about love, marriage, or children, yet here my sister is, getting ahead of herself. Everyone around us is happy, settled down, and here I am, in an emotional state because of one night.
“We’ll see about that.” I shut the conversation down in case she tries to continue talking about this subject. It’s been on my mind for months; I think that’s more than enough.
CHAPTER TWO
tate
I’m about to step into the shower after being away from my house for more than two weeks. It’s been a nightmare of epic proportions. At one point in time, I was barely making ends meet, getting my feet wet in all the ways of the world, having to fight to get my name and product out in the diesel industry. My company is the one that will set up the fuel tanks on job sites. That way, companies don’t have to bring it in by the truck load. I’ve been dealing with securing the contracts for one of them in Texas, so not a hop, skip, and a jump by any means. If I’d known it would take me this long, I would have said fuck it, even if the contract was worth more than a few million dollars in revenue a year.
“Hello,” I answer the phone. The shower is running, and I’m stripped down to my boxers when I grab the ever-present cell phone that’s practically superglued to my hand these days.
“Who the fuck pissed in your Cheerios this morning?” a voice says on the other end of the line. I didn’t bother looking at the screen, knowing whoever it was that I wouldn’t be talking business. It’s Sunday, for fuck’s sake. They’re lucky I’m even answering at all.