WEDNESDAY: With Lots of Cream (Hookup Café Book 3) Read online

  “I see you wearing green shoes and nothing else.” He was on his knees in front of me untying my robe. “They may be ugly shoes to you, but I see nothing but beauty if it is on you.” I swear his words sounded like lyrics. I lost track of a few lines as his lips gently traced down my neck, over my collarbones, and toyed with my breasts. All in a teasing manner—light and sexy, but not enough—I had thoughts of pushing him quickly down to where I hoped he was heading. Being patient, I enjoyed his soft words along with his lips touching every goose bump that had plagued my body. “So rare… so soft…” I never understood another syllable uttered. His nibbles to the inside of my thighs once he placed my legs, wide over the arms of the chair had me floating and I swear I heard music play as he hit all of the right notes.

  Down from my own cloud, I quietly, without words, slipped from my chair onto the floor and had Nate soaring with my mouth wrapped around him. Unwilling to finish between my lips, he pulled me up his body after rolling protection down his massive erection. Happy to fulfill his wishes, I placed him at my entrance and slid down his length, taking all of him deep. “Oh, so good,” we said in perfect harmony and our song began. Up and down, noises were vocalized by both of us. Panting, moaning… I rode him fast and slow and then he rolled us and conducted the perfect measured strokes that struck chords and had me singing his name like an opera star. I was pretty sure that none of my soundproofing worked—my voice surely reverberated “yes, yes, yes, oh yes, Nate” throughout the whole building.

  How did you follow up a performance like that—I wasn’t sure—but Nate decided we needed to quickly shower and get outside to experience our surroundings. I didn’t realize that it would entail us filming ourselves all over the city with his phone on a selfie-stick. Little segments of us captured between having margaritas and snacks at various places which served as down time, only to be used to refuel us for more movie making. It was kind of fun, I have to admit. Especially, when he had me in control of the camera while he did a variety of movements that ranged from happy to sad and every emotion in between. Acting could be a career option for him, but not for me. I had a really hard time being in front of the camera alone. I’m pretty sure he didn’t get what he wanted out of me—though he never complained—but kept right on lightly pushing and filming me.

  The result of our day together weeks ago finally came to life when Nate surprised me one day with his genius engineering of a video complete with his original music. Our own music video. It was amazing to watch it. Then came another part that I didn’t see coming. “Only thing missing is your voice.”

  I looked at Nate like he was speaking in a foreign tongue. “Why me? It’s your song. You should sing on it. I don’t even know the words… do you have words to go with it?” He just smiled at first. “You’re up to something… I’m not sure what. Since we met you have baffled me and you always have me teetering on the edge of my own comfort zone.”

  He laughed at me. “I want to try writing a song together that says us—what sums us up as a whole and separate. We can make it a duet if you don’t want to solo.” I studied his face, waiting for a smirk or something—anything that told me he was serious or just testing me.

  How could we add us up to be any total? Sure individually we had traits, even some connecting ones. But we were only a summer fling—exclusive once cleared up—with an ending date. Then his request… suggestion had me thinking that maybe the video was meant to be a parting gift—memories of us. Suddenly, I sucked in my lip and started looking around the room as single tears began to roll down my cheeks, one after the other.

  “Evie…” his voice was soft as he moved me closer to him and swiped his thumbs across my cheeks, lightly cradling my face so it was tilted up, looking into his icy blues. “…I hope those are happy tears.”

  I shook my head, lowered my eyes, backed out of his hold, grabbed my bag, and fled—thankful that we had been at his place and I could run off.

  Chapter Eight…

  Back in the safety of my loft, I let the tears fall. Why did I think that I could do a fling? Because… other men never meant anything and they never came with a firm deadline. They all just seemed to run their course and fizzle out. Not with Nate. Nothing he did or said signaled an end in sight though it was looming like a big neon flashing light. Everything about Nate screamed that a lifetime with him would never be enough and an eternity without him would be far too long.

  The worse part of our situation was that we were perfect together. We loved doing the same things; going to the beach, trying all different kinds of food, spending all day in bed snuggling, and even our rooftop attempts at stargazing with our pal Nash. Most of our casual times—when I wasn’t working at the café—were spent inside; at his loft or mine—more so at mine since Nate had uncovered my in-home music studio.

  I was happy to curl up in a chair reading, studying, and sorting through my tablet filled with my beloved fashion magazines. He strummed, tickled my piano keys, mixed sound, or quietly wrote words while I was nearby, in the same room. I interjected when he asked for my opinion otherwise I remained quiet pinning photos or making fashion collages on one of my many apps which I sometimes submitted to sites. Last February my favorite blog Fashionista Forward used one of my collages for a Valentine’s Day posting and even thanked me—Evie Sandiego—my alias that I used on the internet for commenting rather than Evie from San Diego. I was so thrilled that I received a private email from their editor-in-chief, Chanel Devlin, that told me to keep them coming and that they loved to be informed about new products. I loved the look of the adorable chocolates I had sent them and continued to submit as asked. Being with Nate almost the entire time had slowed my submissions a bit. I was more interested in submitting to him instead.

  With him in his own corner of the loft area, I had time to get back to my own schedule. And maybe it was for the best, he only texted me a few times, and then stopped when I didn’t reply. What could I say? I love you… I did, I loved him madly. But he didn’t want to hear that and I would never tell him. It appeared that an earlier ending was going to work better in the long run—just rip the bandage off, Evie and move on.

  So I was back to my regular schedule—pre-Nate—working in the café, singing along with the music, enjoying one too many orgasm cookies supplied by our evil baker along with, sadly, coffee with lots of cream. I thought of giving it up, but I was addicted to it as much as I was to him—I could only give up one at a time.

  “How’s Mr. With-Lots-of-Cream?” Something about that sounded so naughty the way Saylor called him that. Actually, most of the café girls and our chef Vin called him that ever since his loud outburst at open mic night.

  “You smell good… like peach cobbler with a scoop of ice cream,” Marzi sighed and saved me once again from having to answer Saylor’s inquiry about my lack of a love life. “You have me craving that now. Pansie, tell Basil to bring some peaches, stat!”

  “Sorry,” I laughed, “It’s my new lotion… all organic… I found this great shop.” I had bought it when Nate and I were apart, but I had forgotten all about it until I saw Rhett Scarlett products mentioned on Fashionista Forward.

  “Oh, is it Rhett Scarlett?” Vivienne asked as she was waiting for Saylor to finish her latte. “I use only her products in my salon now and I sent her name along with mine into Fashionista Forward—they have both of us listed as of this morning.”

  Quickly, I pulled my cellphone out of my apron pocket and scrolled to their site and sure enough Vivienne was listed as a Beauty Engineer, a title she dubbed herself. “I love that site. Congratulations!” I told her—I was truly excited for her.

  “I should congratulate you too. I just found the site recently and looked all through it…” she paused looking suspiciously at me. “I see you contribute collages to them from time to time—you are Evie Sandiego aren’t you?” How she knew that, I wondered, and then she whispered, “I saw the name over your shoulder one time.” She was definitely nosey, but so nice.
At least she hadn’t figure out anything else about me or at least she was keeping quiet about it.

  “Look at this,” Vixen said showing her mini tablet screen to everyone. “Our Evie is quite famous on that site!” She was wearing a big smile on her pretty face.

  “What other things are you doing behind my back?” Bossy-Pan turned toward me with her hands on her hips and a smirk on her face.

  I could say the same about Pansie as well. She had not informed me that new equipment was being installed to the stage area. I hadn’t heard about any changes being made to enhance the area. I usually knew everything that had to do with things pertaining to open mic night. And yet I had no idea that the area was being outfitted with three brand new monitors giving performers the ability to have visuals going on in the background while they performed. I had seen that done at a few clubs—it was a pretty cool feature to offer up to each slot if they had their own graphics or wanted generic ones—that was an option as well.

  It was when open mic night rolled around on the following Wednesday that I realized why it had been installed and by whom as Nate made his way to the stage. He was not on my list or, actually, he was—using an alias that I called to the stage. When he moved forward up onto the stage and took his place I moved to my usual spot at the back near our technician. My tech guy that was obviously also in on the ambush. With nowhere to go, I watched us appear on all three screens and listened to Nate sing his feelings about me… about us and tears streamed non-stop. He told of his love for me. How he hadn’t meant to fall in love with me, but what could he do when the most perfect woman for him came into his life unexpectedly. As the song continued with him telling of all the traits he fell for, he asked me to come home to Chicago with him. What the hell? We were from the same hometown… how could that be?

  That open mic night turned out to be my last night and my goodbye party. Nate had contacted good ol’ Bossy-Pan and gotten her to agree to meet him privately. He told her how much he loved me and that he was pretty sure I felt the same about him. She agreed with him and then he laid out his plan to win me back along with donating the new video equipment to Cafélicious. She told him that she would go along with the plan but absolutely not to the donation—she would pay for the improvement. Nate told me that they compromised on that because he wouldn’t take no for an answer. I’m not sure what the final agreement entailed since Pansie also had to agree to allow my departure without notice—provided I said yes to his request.

  My answer was a definite yes to following him if that was what it took for us to be together without a deadline. How could I complain about going home? I could always stay in my family home although I didn’t think that he meant for us to live separately since he didn’t even know that we were neighbors-of-a-sort in another city, as well. My nod when a spotlight hit me in the back of the room had Nate asking me to join him on stage for a duet. I wasn’t so sure about my answer to that but with the crowd and my café girls cheering, I had no other choice but to comply once again. I had to admit it felt pretty good to feel his arms around me when I stepped up… and oh, the kiss he gave me nearly had me falling off of the stage—his strong arms kept me steady. Then he strummed a few notes and I knew that I would be singing the same song I sang to him on our first open mic together… Just A Kiss and this time he took over the male vocals. We ended the song with him kissing me again to a roaring crowd. Thankfully, I had others ready to take the stage and I was able to escape to the back of the room—only not alone. Nate was at my side as he had been the first night and several that followed.

  Done with my duties of the night, we were not allowed to slip out silently as we usually did after a quick clean up. No, it was then time for my big send off with all my close café friends in attendance. Champagne flowed thanks to a new sales rep named Darla who seemed to be making Cafélicious her second home—I had a feeling it had something to do with our handsome Vin, or maybe it was just his mad-cooking-skills. I could definitely see that attraction, I was going to miss his delicious comfort food. Truly, there wasn’t anything or anyone that I wasn’t going to miss. The café and people in it were like family to me over a little more than two years.

  Ready to wrap up the night, we helped close up while waiting for our hired car. One too many glasses of bubbly, I wanted to be driven—no walking for me unless Nate planned to carry me. I think he too was in favor of getting me home to his place. I was sure he had a whole orchestration planned for our time between the sheets—I was right. With a click of a button, the loft was filled with soft music and he was pushing me down to sit on the bed. Only he didn’t join me. Instead, he got down on one knee and I thought maybe the effervescence of the champagne had me hallucinating—if that was even possible.

  “Evie, I never wanted to love you. There wasn’t supposed to be anything more than fun between us. But I was a fool to think that. The minute I saw you at a glance my heart leapt in my chest. Then you appeared out of the shadows on stage wearing an orange beanie over a lovely shade of turquoise hair and I thought maybe I was seeing things, or wanting her to be you. Because there was that ache again gripping my heart. I went back to the café to confirm my assumption. Before I could fully ask you, your lips were over mine. It was official I had fallen but I still refused to believe that you were it for me. I told myself I could walk away but in the back of my head I knew that I never could. Minutes turned to hours, hours turned to days, days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months and each second that ticked with you was the best moment of my life. My life can’t go on without you in it. Marry me, Evie.”

  Chapter Nine…

  With tears dripping down my cheeks, I nodded with a lump in my throat before the word “yes” would finally escape my trembling lips. It was obvious that he wanted me back in his life, but marriage. That shocked and elated me at the same time. Of course, I would agree to marry him—I couldn’t imagine the rest of my life being spent without him.

  “Thank you,” Nate murmured against my lips before he captured my mouth with his, and we fell back onto his crumpled sheets together and became one.

  I had missed the excitement of having music booming while he took my body to different levels. To be honest, I had just plain missed his body, naked, up against mine. We didn’t have to be in a heated moment, being held was enough. But somehow the way he moved slower than ever inside of me after proclaiming his love for me, felt different—it had more meaning. Each stroke, each caress, each moan that I could hear with the music so soft in the room—they were heightened with emotion. I never thought that I would come down from the heavenly clouds that rolled over and over like a lullaby all night and into the early hours when the loft space grew lighter. It was a sleepless night filled with several words exchanged.

  “Are you wondering where the ring is? Most proposals require one or have them, but I thought twice about buying you one. I’d like to tattoo a ring on my finger and I thought I’d ask you if you wanted to do the same. I noticed that you never wear rings on your fingers with all of the costume jewelry I’ve seen you wear.”

  I wasn’t a fan of rings—I’m not sure why. I never got into the whole fashion craze of big cocktail rings. But several bracelets, bangles, necklaces, chokers—I loved them—even hats. My other accessory vice was for handbags, totes, and backpacks—that’s where I spent the most money. All of my fashion preferences were easy to figure out by looking in my walk-in closet. Obviously Nate had paid attention to my fashion sense in regards to my apparel and accessorizing.

  Looking down at my fingers entwined with his, I moved them apart and held up our left hands together facing us. “I think I’d like that too. Can I design my ring and you create it?” Before he answered, I quickly asked how bad it would hurt to have my finger tattooed—I knew some areas were more sensitive than others where tattooing was concerned. “It might determine how intricate I want my ring to be.”

  “I will not lie to you, according to pain charts, hands are in the red zone—red being the hig
hest pain area. We can take it slow and I’ll even let you inflict pain on me—you can do mine.”

  “No way! You can do mine, but I will just watch you get yours from the guy that usually does them for…” I sucked in my lip before getting up the courage to push our conversation further. “Do your tattoos have meaning to them…stories?”

  “They’re all about music. Geometric patterns that flow into what people call tribal symbols. I started with them on my upper right arm and continued down to my wrist. I liked the look and did my other arm to match with a few variations. Reversing the ink, the pattern is boxed in and I continued that onto my left pec. Finally, I had my right pec done with the same right arm pattern. The path of stars from the left side of my back, round my side, and down my abs mark the accomplishments I’ve made in the music field.”

  As he spoke about each one, I found that my fingertips roamed along his skin. I’d never been with a man with so much ink on him. I’d never been attracted to it either, but on Nate it is so sexy. Somehow it makes his arms and pecs appear more muscular and the stars so close to his ripples and v-cut down to his groin area—so hot!

  As the sun started breaking through the windows, I saw that there were boxes everywhere—a sign that things were really moving forward in more ways than one. Next I would need to pack up my stuff. “When are you shipping things?”

  “It all goes tomorrow. I was going to follow it but when things went wrong and I lost… we lost so much time together, I thought I would rent a hotel room for as long as it took to get you back if you didn’t melt into me. Thank God you did… but now…”

  “Now you can stay with me until I get my things together. Do you have room for me? Do I need to keep things here?”