Beg For Me: Chapter 2

I awaken Sunday morning feeling refreshed and happy. That lasts for about ten minutes, until I get a call from my brother, Will.

“She fell again,” he says flatly when I answer. No friendly greeting. No surprise there.

“How is she? What happened?”

“What always happens. She tripped. It’s a miracle she hasn’t split her head open yet. I don’t understand why the woman can’t put her hands out and break her fall like a regular person. She just lands flat on her face and ends up looking like someone’s been using her as a punching bag.”

“She’s bruised?”

“Black and blue. And her nose is swollen. I’ve gotta take her to the attorney’s office tomorrow to sign some papers. I’ll probably get arrested for elder abuse.”

“You should go to the emergency room right away. Get a CT scan to make sure there’s no bleeding on her brain.”

Will ignores that. “She’s getting worse, Soph. One of these days, she’s really going to hurt herself. Break something. We need to talk about our options.”

He means putting her into a nursing home. As if we haven’t already had this conversation.

“Dad didn’t want her to go into assisted living.”

“Yeah, well, Dad’s not here anymore, and I’m not a registered nurse. She’s starting to make messes, Soph. You understand what I’m saying? In her underwear.”

Depressed by that news, I put a hand to my forehead and close my eyes. “Okay. I hear you. I’ll look into home care. Maybe we have someone come in a few times a week, make it easier for you—”

“You’re not listening. I have a job. I have a life. I can’t do twenty-four-hour care for our mother anymore. I’ve been doing it for almost five years. I’m burned out. She’s eighty years old, and she’s falling apart. She has to go into a nursing home.”

“We could be looking at six figures a year.”

“It’s not like you can’t afford it.”

That makes me chuckle. “You seem to be under the mistaken impression I’m rich.”

“Aren’t you?”

“Not even close.”

“What about the divorce settlement? Nick’s a big-time music producer. You must’ve gotten a nice chunk of money from him.”

That presumption—a common one, and wrong—sets my teeth on edge. “I’m not getting into the nitty gritty of my financial situation, Will.”

After a beat, he says flatly, “Fine. Then Mom goes to live with you.”

Bullseye. He knows I’d rather be hit by a speeding train than live under the same roof with our critical, cantankerous mother. I’ve still got the emotional scars from when we were children.

“We both know that’s not happening.”

“I didn’t think so. I’ll send you an email later with some options. Do your own research, see what you think, get back to me. This needs to happen sooner than later. We need to make a decision by the end of the month.”

“What’s the big rush?”

“I’m going to Paris with Trishie.”

“Who’s Trishie? What happened to Pamela?”

“Nothing. We’re still together.”

“Ah.”

He flips on the haughty switch and sharpens his claws. “Don’t judge my lifestyle, Soph. Plenty of people practice polyamory. Maybe your marriage would’ve lasted if you’d been a little less uptight. Nick might’ve had needs you weren’t meeting, you ever think of that?”

That stings, but I don’t take the bait. This is just ancient sibling drama not worth getting drawn into on a beautiful Sunday morning.

“Send me the information. I’ll look it over and get back to you. And take Mom to the emergency room, please.” I disconnect without waiting for any more daggers to be thrown.

I love my brother, but he doesn’t make it easy.

After showering and getting dressed, I decide to ride my bike down to the local coffee shop. It isn’t until I’m standing in line that I realize I recognize the broad shoulders and tousled blond hair of the man in front of me.

Even though he’s facing away, I could pick him out of a police lineup. I must’ve studied him more closely at the gym than I thought.

Like I’m doing now, for instance. Molded into yellow Lycra cycling shorts, his sculpted butt is a thing of beauty.

“Hey. I know you.”

Startled from a daydream about sinking my teeth into his naked ass, I glance up to discover Carter has turned around and is grinning at me. His companion, a fit young blonde poured into a hot-pink Lycra cycling kit, smirks at me briefly before dismissing me to continue a discussion on her cell phone.

Great. She caught me staring at his butt. This day so far is wonderful.

With a serenity I don’t feel, I smile politely. “I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met.”

When his grin falters, I sigh. “I’m kidding. Don’t mind me, it’s been a rough morning. Hello, Carter. Nice to see you again.”

“Nice to see you too. You okay?”

Whatever my expression is doing, it must be dire. My poker face is legendary. “Yep. Couldn’t be better.”

We stare at each other for a beat before his pretty companion tugs on his sleeve. The line has moved forward, but Carter doesn’t budge.

Our eye contact feels intense. Bordering on intimate, as if we’re both naked and he’s buried inside me.

How irritating that I’m the only one who thinks so.

He says, “Do you live around here?”

“Yes. I’m on sixth, off Wilshire. You?”

“North of Montana on twenty-third. Just moved in last month.”

Interesting. That’s a good neighborhood, but it’s not a gated community. And it’s certainly not Malibu, Beverly Hills, or Bel Air, where all the other one percenters live.

It’s probably a second home. Or third. Or where he keeps all the vitamins he’s obviously taking.

“Carter. Come on.”

His companion is clearly irritated now, but he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry to turn away from me. I don’t like that he’s ignoring her, however, so I glance around him toward the register.

He takes the hint and walks forward a few steps, then turns right back. “So is this your favorite place for coffee or do you just come here because it’s close to your house?”

“Actually, my favorite place is the little café inside the Brentwood Country Mart. Do you know it?”

“No. What’s the name?”

When I tell him, he pulls out his cell phone from an inside pocket in the waistband of his shorts and adds it into his contacts. Then he looks up, grinning.

“Thanks. I love discovering all the local hot spots. Where do you shop for groceries?”

The blonde rolls her eyes, shakes her head, and starts texting someone. I notice the graduation cap charm with the year on it on her bracelet and wonder if it was college or high school she received a diploma from this year. She’s a literal baby.

When did young people start looking like children to me? I’ve got shoes older than this kid.

“Whole Foods mostly. Trader Joe’s too.”

I don’t add that Trader Joe’s has my favorite fiber supplement because I’m not pathetic.

“What about good restaurants? What do you recommend”

“There are lots. What do you like?”

“Food.” He laughs. “I’m basically a raccoon. I’ll eat anything. But sushi and Thai are my favorites.”

His laugh is as charming as the rest of him. Two women sitting at a table near the windows gaze at him with their hearts in their eyes. Or maybe it’s their vaginas. I suppress a smile and tell him the names of my favorite sushi and Thai places, then mention a hole in the wall in Venice that has the best pasta outside Italy.

“Have you been to Italy?”

I nod. “Florence is one of my favorite places in the world.”

We strike up a conversation about travel while his young companion seems about to expire from boredom. Her dramatic sigh can probably be heard from down the block. I want to tell her to be quiet, the adults are talking, but I’m only that condescending on the inside.

We reach the register. Carter’s companion orders for both of them, not asking what he wants. She obviously already knows. They must have been dating for a while.

I can see the appeal. Together, they’re Barbie and Ken. Iconic blonds with megawatt smiles and a fondness for tight neon clothing.

I catch myself thinking something unkind about what gravity will do to her perky breasts during perimenopause and realize with chagrin that I’m jealous of her.

How cliché. I’m better than this.

I send the back of her golden head the most apologetic smile I can muster. Then I remember that a real bog witch would have already devoured her and feel like a failure all the way around.

Carter and his blonde move aside, and I place my order with the cashier. After I’ve paid, I walk to the other side of the shop and peruse a refrigerated case of organic bottled juices while I wait for my name to be called.

I’m in the middle of wondering just how revolting a kale and prune blend would taste when Carter walks up beside me.

“How’s it going over at TriCast? Are you enjoying the position?”

I turn. He’s gazing down intently at me from his considerable height. His blonde companion is now outside the store in front of the glass windows, talking on her cell. She holds a frothy pink-and-blue blended drink in her hand that looks like something you’d get a toddler at Disneyland.

“I am, thanks. It’s challenging but rewarding.”

“You seem like the type who’d like a challenge.”

There’s warmth in his tone, but he’s not smiling. I can’t decide if he’s teasing me or if that was a genuine compliment. Or something else altogether.

Is he flirting with me?

We gaze at each other for a long moment. The eye contact is intense. Nick couldn’t look me in the eye for more than a few seconds at a time, which makes this all the more unexpected.

“As a matter of fact, I do like a challenge. I didn’t realize until I was in my thirties how competitive I actually am.”

“Thirties? You don’t look a day over twenty-five.”

“Ha! Don’t bullshit an older woman, my friend. Our BS detectors are fine-tuned, and we don’t have the patience for games.”

He studies me in silence for a moment. “I want to ask you something personal, but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“How intriguing. Go ahead and ask.”

“Are you single?”

That’s the last thing I was expecting. I’m so surprised, I’m momentarily speechless.

He says sheepishly, “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. It’s just that you’re not wearing a ring, and I want to ask you out.”

I go from surprised to shocked. A little confused too. He’s with another woman, yet he’s hitting on me? Is this what everyone’s doing nowadays, the polyamory thing?

When I don’t respond quickly enough, his cheeks turn ruddy. He glances away, shifts his weight from foot to foot, and clears his throat. When he speaks, his voice is gruff.

“I guess I should’ve known you wouldn’t be interested. Well, it was nice seeing you. Take care.”

He turns away, clearly embarrassed and in a rush to leave. I reach out and touch his arm.

“Not so fast.”

He stops and turns his head to look at me warily. His cheeks are still stained that ridiculously appealing shade of red. Never in a million years would I have thought such a handsome, self-confident guy capable of shame, but he seems as if he’s wishing for the power of invisibility.

“Just so we’re clear, you’d like to take me on a date?”

“I would.”

I glance toward the windows. “What would your girlfriend think about that idea?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“Does she know that?”

“Yeah. Katie’s just a friend. Wait, are you saying yes?”

He turns to face me, his energy intense and his gaze unblinking. I’m not used to being the subject of such unwavering concentration. I have to admit, it’s pleasant.

Still. The man is at least a decade younger than I am. And I’m not entirely convinced about his relationship with the blonde. And this could be a ploy to try to pry inside information from me about TriCast.

After all, we’re in direct competition with one another. This shy routine could all be an act designed to lower my defenses. He did make a pitch to our board. Maybe he’s trying a more indirect route this time.

But my hand is still resting on his arm, and he’s still staring at me with that flattering concentration, and my oh my, the things I could teach this beautiful boy.

“How old are you, Carter?”

“Twenty-nine. How old are you?”

“Forty-four.”

I wait for him to react, but he only licks his lips. We stare at each other as the temperature rises, my heart skips a beat, and my armpits and panties grow damp.

I sternly remind myself of my plans for a bog witch future, hexing the local villagers who wander too near and avoiding men at all costs.

Especially young gods with beautiful blonde “friends” and cutthroat reasons to sleep with me.

“How about tonight? Are you free for dinner?”

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

His grin is beautiful and breathtaking. “That’s not a no. You’re considering it.”

Despite my misgivings, I smile. There’s just something so charming about him, especially when he’s not feeling so sure of himself.

“I’m considering considering it, but I have my doubts.”

He steps closer, his blue eyes shining dangerously bright. I still haven’t dropped my hand from his arm. It’s interesting to note that I have no intention of doing so anytime soon.

“Tell me your doubts. I can help you get over them.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Our smiles are coy. Our held gazes crackle. I can’t believe I’m flirting with him, but here we are.

“Well, for starters, you could be trying to glean company secrets from me.”

“Glean? I don’t even know what that word means, but I swear, I’m not gleaning anything.”

“Hmm. A likely story.”

“It’s totally true. You know it, too, or you’d already have stopped touching me.”

I drop my arm to my side. My entire face flushes. I tell myself it’s just another perimenopause symptom, but don’t believe it.

“Carter, I’m a mom.”

“Cool.”

“And I’m fifteen years older than you.”

“Yeah, I caught that.”

“And we’re competitors.”

“No, we’re not. Our companies are. Let’s go to that Italian place in Venice you like. I’ll pick you up at seven. Here, put your phone number into my contacts. I’ll text you when I’m on my way, and you can give me your address.”

He whips his cell from his waistband and hands it to me before I’ve even had time to blink. I stare at his phone, trying very hard not to smile.

I glance up to find him so focused on me, it’s almost as if he’s wishing he had X-ray vision so he could see directly into my brain.

“I won’t talk business with you.”

“Perfect.”

“At all. I mean it.”

“I don’t give one single fuck about work, yours or mine. I want to sit across a table from you and spend a few hours wondering how I got so lucky while watching you eat and staring at your perfect face and praying you’ll let me kiss you goodnight. That’s it. That’s all I want.” His pause is brief but potent. “For tonight, anyway.”

I open my mouth to speak, find that no words are forthcoming, then do the only reasonable thing left to do and enter my contact information into his phone.

I hand it back to him with a warning.

“One dinner. It’s not a date. We’ll split the check. And if you’re late, don’t bother ringing the bell because I won’t open the door.”

I walk out of the shop without another word, not realizing until I’m at home that I completely forgot about my coffee.