Adventures in Online Dating Read online

  Had she missed something? Imagined their conversation yesterday? No. That couldn’t be it, since she’d had the horrible night of not sleeping after. Was she going to have to go through all of that again? To make matters worse, there was no time to talk to him now. She’d arrived right before the rush, and by the time she regained her senses and made it to her station, they were already three orders in.

  An hour of running orders, and she was ready to drop. The idea of going home to stand in front of the stove made her want to cry, but she was committed.

  “See you tomorrow, Claudette.” She would have said goodbye to Marshall at the same time, but she could already feel him behind her as she walked to the storeroom. Her initial assessment was right. They were going to have to have the talk again. Frustrated, she fumbled with the strings of her apron. “Look, nothing has changed since yesterday. I still need a home-cooked meal for my kids.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, warm and safe. Her entire body wanted to just melt into him and fall asleep.

  He broke the spell by saying, “Ah, but yesterday you hadn’t talked to me yet. Yesterday, you didn’t have a… Fuck, I’m not your fairy godmother. Can I be your kitchen wizard or something?”

  “What?” Was she that tired, or was he not making any sense?

  He led her toward the office, kissing her neck gently. “Trust me.”

  The fact that he said it in Harrison Ford’s voice made her groan. “You are not Indiana Jones.”

  “Yeah, but you didn’t seem to like the wizard idea.” He opened the office door and a wave of delicious odors washed over her.

  “What is that?” Her eyelids had fluttered at the initial scents, but now they opened to find a crockpot and a variety of covered dishes on his desk.

  “That, my love, is your dinner.” He led her to the desk and took the lid off the slow cooker. “Barbecued ribs.” Cracked open the plastic container. “Broccoli salad.” Dish after dish. “Homemade mac and cheese. Rolls.”

  Instructions for heating were written on the aluminum foil covering the dishes. She shook her head as if it were all an illusion, but when she stopped, the food was still there. “You did all this…when?”

  “This morning before work. All you have to do is put those in the oven. Everything else is done.” He kissed her once more, his lips lingering. “Now please get some rest tonight. I’ll happily cook again tomorrow in exchange for our twenty minutes.”

  It didn’t solve all her problems, but it took some of the pressure off. Maybe it would be enough for her to get a handle on life again without having to give up him or her normally rejuvenating time behind the counter here. “Thank you, kitchen wizard.”

  “You’re welcome. Tomorrow, I’ll let you see my wand.”

  She groaned at the horrible line, but it escaped her lips through a smile. He was helping her keep her life with the boys in order so they could have their time, too. She couldn’t even pretend to be upset about that.

  Chapter Sixteen

  After the first night with the ribs, the boys had stopped raising eyebrows every time they sat down to a meal that obviously hadn’t come from Alexa’s kitchen. For about a week, the way they exuberantly dove into dinner bordered on insulting. They rarely behaved that way when she made dinner. Then she recognized that she was behaving the exact same way herself. Whatever else he might be, Marshall was one hell of a cook.

  They were in the midst of enjoying another amazing meal—chicken fajitas that had set her drooling as soon as she opened the containers this time—when Beau finally asked the question none of them had uttered for two weeks, “Mom, who is making all this food for us?”

  She paused with a bite halfway to her mouth.

  Separate. Keep the two worlds separate, damn it.

  “Why do you ask?” Not that anything he said would change the core of her answer. After all, she didn’t believe in lying to her kids, but how she responded might be affected.

  He gave an innocent shrug only a child could pull off, but even in that simple motion, she could see hints of teenage boy peeking out. Only a few more years… “It’s really good, that’s all. Did you hire a chef or something?”

  An innocent question to pair with his shrug rather than wondering about how she was spending the time she might have spent in the kitchen. Definitely not a teenager yet. “Do you remember Marshall?”

  “The coffee guy?”

  Brendan started coughing. If he didn’t learn to slow down a little when he ate, he’d eventually choke to death. Alexa reached over and absently rubbed his back as she always had when he did this.

  “Yes,” she said to Beau. “Marshall owns the Bean Counter. This is how he’s paying me back for helping out in the afternoon.”

  “He’s the one who stayed with us that one time, right?”

  At her nod, Blake piped up from her right, “I liked him. He was fun. When is he coming back?”

  “Yeah, when can we hang out with him again?” Beau added.

  Brendan stayed silent—likely in recovery from his choking fit.

  It had been almost a month since Marshall had watched the boys for her. Had he made that much of an impression? Had he told the boys they were involved? No, he wouldn’t do that, would he? It didn’t matter—she was keeping the part of her life involving him separate from her home life.

  But could she really say that when she was serving the kids meals cooked by him most nights of the week?

  She shook off the concern and smiled at the boys. “He’s a really busy guy. That night was a huge favor for me. I don’t think he’s likely to come back. Sorry.”

  That should have been the end of it. Instead, Beau and Blake spent the rest of the meal talking about the games they had played and the snack he’d made them, and how he was way more fun than Jessica had ever been. Through it all, Brendan stayed quiet, and when she turned his way, he snapped his eyes back toward his plate as if he’d been staring at her the whole time.

  Clearly, she wasn’t doing as good a job of keeping her worlds separate as she’d hoped. Something was going to have to change. Maybe they could shift their twenty-minute rendezvous to before the rush rather than after. She’d be home at the same time as the kids most days. That would help, and she wouldn’t have to give up the sex or the high point of her working hours.

  And, as much as she’d miss his cooking, she’d start making dinner again. Marshall’s presence needed to be as far from her boys as possible.

  …

  Marshall’s routine with Alexa had returned to normal, only now they had their interlude before the teenagers showed up most of the time. He wasn’t going to complain, but he preferred things the other way. Hell, he actually would have preferred normal nights out rather than stolen twenty-minute intervals in the middle of his coffee shop, but she kept insisting she didn’t have the time.

  More than that, she still seemed determined to keep things strictly casual between them.

  The worst part, however, was when life made their daily interlude impossible. Like today. With no more than an hour’s warning, her morning meeting at whatever company she was trying to save got switched to early afternoon. She still managed to race through the door in time for the high school rush, but she’d had to run out just as quickly after in order to be home with the kids.

  Marshall spent the rest of his shift cranky and with a hard-on. And it was Friday. He wouldn’t get to even see Alexa again until Monday. Just the thought made him irritable enough to snap at Dylan, the night manager.

  “Dude, you need to get laid,” Dylan said as they switched out register drawers.

  “Are you fucking with me right now?”

  Marshall glared at him. Alexa had mentioned the fact that their sales dropped off precipitously in the evening hours, but it was a coffee shop, so Marshall had convinced himself that had to be normal. The more he thought about it, though, the less convinced he was. Dylan was a problem, and he was sick of dealing with this particular thorn in his side. “We aren
’t buddies having a drink at the bar. I am your boss.”

  “Doesn’t change the facts.”

  Like hell it doesn’t. “Well, it changes this one—you’re fired. Now you can talk to me however the fuck you want.”

  Of course, Dylan took him up on the offer and raised a level of hell Marshall hadn’t imagined existed. By the time he left, the shop was cleared out. He’d actively scared away their clientele for the evening. And now Marshall had to hire a new night manager. On the upside, he had a lot of applications on file. Downside, Claudette was the most qualified for the position, and he hated to lose her artistry during the day.

  When he finally locked up for the night, he was nursing a headache of epic proportions.

  Which made the surprise waiting for him on his front stoop all the sweeter.

  Alexa paced back and forth, rubbing her arms against the night chill.

  “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” He wasn’t going to wait for a retort, clever or otherwise, and opened the door. “Come on in.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Seriously though, what—” He didn’t get to finish the question because she pressed her lips to his and started yanking his belt free.

  They finally parted in order to breathe. “I had to run out for movie snacks for the boys. I also had to run here to see you, but five of your twenty minutes were spent outside, so we need to be fast.”

  And he’d been worried she hadn’t cared about skipping this afternoon. “In that case, we really shouldn’t waste time talking.”

  They didn’t waste time removing all their clothes, either. He kicked off his pants, rolled on a condom, and yanked up her skirt to find she’d already taken off her panties and was wet for him. Time was definitely of the essence. With his mouth locked on hers, Marshall backed her toward the wall, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He thrust into her, pressing her against the wall, their bodies separated by clothes and then by nothing. Joined as one, yet separate.

  It wasn’t enough.

  He drove into her harder, faster, desperate to somehow erase the distance he felt. She gasped and clung to him tighter, but he still felt it, deep down in his core.

  Not enough.

  No matter how frantic, no matter how hungry… He kissed and bit at her neck, trying to get closer. But even as he thrust into her once more, he came with a cry of frustration. It hadn’t worked.

  She slid down the wall, landing gently on her feet, and straightened her skirt. “That was…different.”

  Not bad, not good, just different. She’d felt it, too.

  “Yeah.”

  “Time’s up. I have to go.” She gave him one more kiss, as if she was searching for something, too. “I’ll see you Monday.” And then she was gone, heading back to her other life, his twenty minutes used up until next time.

  Yanking up his pants, he stalked into his kitchen. The only thought that had been playing in his head during sex was how he wanted more, more of her. But it wasn’t the sex, it was everything. He wanted to be in her life all the way, not this half-assed friends-with-benefits thing they had going on. He wanted a goddamned future with her and her boys. Stupidly, he’d thought he was planning toward that with the dinners and giving in to whatever she said she needed, but it seemed like the longer they went on, the more excuses she was finding to push him away.

  After grabbing a beer, he raked a hand through his hair. Something had to give, and it had to give soon. He dropped onto his futon just as his phone chimed with an incoming email.

  One glance at the message gave him his answer.

  Something was going to give tomorrow.

  …

  Saturdays were made for things like this. Arriving early so that Brendan was on time for the game, Alexa scoped out the best seats for herself, Beau, and Blake. Close to concessions and bathrooms, but also with a great view of the field. When the team raced onto the grass, all three of them stood and cheered. Brendan wasn’t a star forward, but he gave soccer 110 percent, and everyone knew it.

  He’d already informed her he planned to be captain of the high school team as soon as he was eligible. It was part of why she’d finally caved on student government. He was a kid who already had a blueprint for his life, an adaptable one. She wished she had that ability, to plan everything out but then scope out the future again and adjust. A tweak here, a tweak there. Instead, she held things too tightly. The plan was whatever the plan was, and she had no intention of changing unless forced to.

  Like the whole getting-a-man-into-their-life thing. Men had been so far out of her agenda that the past few months had been a whirlwind of confusing emotions. But when she stood back and really looked at everything, they were surviving perfectly well without a father figure in the boys’ lives. Tentacle-porn-watching or not, Brendan was doing great. Otherwise he never would have managed such a strong argument in favor of drama.

  Which meant life could go on as it was now. She’d reached an equilibrium of sorts. Granted, with all the new Marflow and Rath stuff, she was still working too much, but—

  “Is this seat taken?” The voice startled her from her reverie, and she spun, her mouth dropping open.

  “Marshall!” Blake launched himself into the air, and Marshall caught him like it was second nature, taking a seat before the other parents complained.

  “Hey, guys.” He grinned at the boys like he was their best buddy rather than the guy who babysat them that one time. He turned the smile on her like this was all perfectly normal and okay.

  It wasn’t. At all. Alexa could feel eyes turning their way. “What are you doing here?”

  “Watching the game.” He must have realized she wasn’t smiling, because he added, “Brendan invited me.”

  If her eldest son had been standing there, she might have interrogated him first, but he wasn’t. He was on the field, safely away from all of this. “Blake, stay with Beau. Marshall and I need to talk.”

  Without waiting for a response or looking to see if he followed, Alexa made her way down and around the bleachers. Brendan paused mid-field, and she merely pointed him back to the game.

  This was wrong. It was all wrong, and she had no idea how things had gotten here. So much for equilibrium. So much for having room to breathe. As soon as they were away from the game, she spun. Marshall ran straight into her, and she put her hands against his chest to steady herself. His strong, broad chest—the one that had seemed like such a safe place to rest her head, if only for a moment.

  Too bad the moment was over.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I told you. Brendan emailed and asked me to come. What did you want me to do, tell him no?”

  It was like he had never listened to her, never respected her need to keep him separate from the rest of her life. “No. I wanted you to do what I asked. Why does Brendan even have your email? If he didn’t, this wouldn’t have happened.”

  “Because he asked for it the night I hung out with them.” Hung out. Not watched. Not cared for. Hung out, like they were buddies throwing back a few beers on a Saturday night. As if he somehow managed to remove every inch of responsibility from the equation. “What’s the big deal? It’s not like you and I came together. They aren’t going to think it’s a date.”

  “That’s not the point!” God, how could she not have seen how this would go? Taking life as it came included not thinking ahead to how actions could ripple and affect other things. This one game would lead to more requests for him to come around. Eventually, the two of them would slip up and hold hands or kiss in front of the kids. Then what? He wasn’t father material. He was like the fun uncle who took them traipsing through the mud in the woods and then dropped them back at home for their mom to clean up. “You aren’t supposed to be here. You aren’t supposed to be part of their lives.”

  Throwing his hands in the air, Marshall shook his head. “And for once, could you actually explain to me why not? I get along with your kids. I like your kids
. I really like you. Why is it so crazy for me to be part of your whole life rather than just the stupid fucking twenty-minute intervals you’ve allotted?”

  Is he insane? Does he not remember the dinner party? Does he not remember anything? “Because you don’t fit. You aren’t what they need, and you don’t respect what I need.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  People were looking at them, craning their necks to see what was unfolding here rather than on the field. “Lower your voice, please.”

  “Like hell. All I did was give in to a teenager’s request that I show up at his game. You’re the one who decided we needed to have something out here. So, let’s do it. Lay all your crappy life plan cards on the table.” He did not just say that. “You say I don’t fit, but I say I fucking fit perfectly. Brendan came to me, Alexa, not the other way around. He trusts me. Shouldn’t that be the number one thing you look for in someone to bring into their lives? And while the trust thing isn’t clear with them yet, Beau and Blake like me, too. We freaking baked together. And we had fun doing it. We could have fun fixing a car or building a computer from parts, too. I could take them to all the geeky movies that don’t really interest you. I want to do those things with them. Why can’t I be the guy who fills those fucking voids?”

  Trust. Brendan trusted him? “How many times?”

  “How many times what?” he snapped, his anger burning even as hers was turning icy.

  “How many times have you talked to my son since the night you babysat?” Her fingers actually started getting cold as she waited for his answer, the stress leeching energy from her extremities.

  “I don’t know. Maybe three times? What difference does it make?”

  Three times. Maybe. Maybe more. Maybe less. And he’d never thought it was important to tell her? He’d let her go on believing that her life was proceeding just as she’d intended and all the while, he’d been working against her plan. Her breath shuddered out as she shook her head. “That’s three too many for the guy who isn’t supposed to be in their lives.”