I hang up and take a deep breath. He sounded concerned and then relieved that everything went okay with the drive. I do have to call Whit, but I could just as easily have sent her a text while talking to him on speakerphone. I need the time to wrap my head around this. Him.
He called me.
“Hey,” Whit says on the first ring. “You just getting home? I was starting to get worried.”
“You’re not the only one, apparently,” I mumble before I can stop myself.
“What?”
“Mike told me to text him when I got home. I did and he just called me.”
“That’s a bad thing because…?”
I take a breath. “It’s not, I guess. I just… I’m not used to guys like him. He’s a lot to take on,” I confess.
“Are you taking him on?” she asks seriously.
“I-I don’t know.”
“Why are you not still talking to him?”
“I had to call you.”
“Uh-huh, you could have sent me a text. I’m glad you made it home, now call the poor guy back. I’m sure he was worried about you. Obviously he was. He deserves at least a phone conversation.”
“I know, I was just—”
“Stalling,” she laughs. “Take it one day at a time. Maybe it’s something and maybe it’s nothing, but take each day as it comes and see where it goes.”
“We live so far away.”
“Semantics. Nothing that can’t be changed. Call him, don’t let the worry of distance and what if interfere. One day at a time,” she says softly.
“Okay. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Night.”
Looking down at the screen, my list of recent calls is showing. Before I can give myself time to chicken out, I tap his name and place the phone next to my ear.
“That was fast,” he says in greeting.
“Yeah, just wanted to let her know I made it home. How was your day?”
“Good. I took care of some things at the bar, hung out here a little and then had Sunday dinner with my family.”
“You do that every week? Have dinner with your family?”
“We try to do it at least twice a month.”
“That’s great. I guess you all get along really well.”
“We do. My parents are great, and of course you know Liv and Whit. What about you? Are you close with your family?”
“Yeah, I’m an only child, but we’re close. We don’t do weekly dinners or anything, but I see them often.”
“You have a busy week?” he asks.
“Not really. Business has been slow lately. I was actually telling Whit and Aaron the same thing. I might try to plan another long weekend trip before the wedding.” I have no idea why I just told him that. I don’t expect him to want to see me.
“Oh really?” he says. I can hear the smile in his voice.
“Yeah, I just don’t know when for sure. I need to talk to my boss, but he’s great, so I’m sure it won’t be an issue.”
“You driving down?” he asks.
“More than likely. Aaron and Whitney offered to fly me there, but it’s just a six-hour drive. It’s not too bad.”
“I hate that you do it all on your own.”
“I only had to stop once for a stretch and bathroom break. It’s all easy driving.”
“Yeah, but still.”
I laugh. “It’s fine, promise. So what about you? Busy week?”
“The weeks are usually slow, especially in the wintertime. Summer nights are a little steadier.”
“What did you have for dinner?” I ask with a yawn.
“Chicken and dumplings.”
“That sounds good.”
“It is. My mom is a great cook. It’s a perk of our Sunday dinners.”
“I’m sure, a bachelor like yourself. Do you cook?”
“What’s that supposed to mean? Just because I’m a bachelor, I don’t eat?” he laughs.
“No, just not many singles do. Cooking for one isn’t easy and sometimes not worth the effort when you can grab takeout.”
“Uh-huh,” he teases.
“So can you cook?”
“I get by. Nothing gourmet, but I can make Mom’s dumplings, although they never taste like hers.”
“I’ll have to have you make them for me sometime.” Shit, what am I doing?
“You tell me when and I’m all yours.”
“Thanks again for this weekend. It was nice not having to impose on the happy couple the whole time.”
“No thanks needed. That’s not why I wanted to see you, just so you know.”
“Why did you want to see me?”
“I have a million reasons why, but mainly I like you. You’re fun to be around, and I like getting to know you. Holding you and kissing those soft lips were just a bonus.”
See, there are no guys in Chicago like Michael Wallace. None. “I had a great time.”
“Me too, darlin.’ We have to do it again. Soon,” he says as an afterthought.
“I’m going to hold you to that,” I say around another yawn.
“Good. You’ve had a long day. Get some rest. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Night, Michael,” I murmur.
“Good night, James.”
I end the call before I beg him to talk to me longer; I could totally be on board with his deep sexy voice talking to me until I fall asleep. I turn off all the lights and head to my room. I’m exhausted from the drive, and I don’t want to do anything but replay every minute of my time with him this weekend over and over again.
Changing into his T-shirt, I plug in my phone and climb into bed. Just as I’m about to burrow deeper under the covers, my phone alerts me to a message.
Mike: Sweet dreams, beautiful.
It takes great effort to not call him—hell, to not get back in the car and drive to him. This is crazy, this attraction I feel for him. How could we make this work? Would it even be possible? I toss and turn for a few hours before falling asleep to the memory of the feel of his lips against mine.
All too soon, my alarm is blaring and it’s time to start another work week. I drag my tired ass to the shower and start the process of getting ready for work. When I’m dressed, I make my way to the kitchen and pour a cup of coffee; coffeemakers with timers are the best damn invention ever.
Grabbing my phone, I look at the last text Mike sent just before I fell asleep. I’m giddy like a schoolgirl just reading his words. Knowing last night was not a late one for him, I decide to text him.
Me: Good morning. Hope you have a great day.
I drop my phone in my purse and lock up my apartment. Hearing a beep on the way to my car, I ignore it. With great effort, I might add. I don’t let myself look at his reply until I pull into the parking lot of the office.
Mike: You too, beautiful.
His words do something to me. It feels as though my body is a puddle of goo, like I’m melting on the inside from his words. It was a simple “good morning, have a good day” exchange, but it warms me all the same.
Tossing my phone back into my purse, I climb out of the car and head inside.
“Morning, Jamie,” Mr. Warren, my boss, greets me. “How was your weekend?”
“It was great. Dress shopping was a success,” I tell him. I’m sure he doesn’t care, but he never lets on like he doesn’t.
“That’s great. I’m glad you enjoyed your time.”
Since I have his attention, now’s the time to ask him about another long weekend. “I was actually going to talk to you about that. I was hoping to be able to take another long weekend before the wedding, if that’s okay?”
“Of course it is. Things are slow around here. You just tell me when.”
“Thank you, Mr. Warren.”
“Not a lot on the books today. Thought I’d have you go through the pending cases and see what we’re still missing. Contact the courts for updates.”
“I’m all over it,” I assure him, watching as he walks to his office. He’s tired, as one should be after practicing law for over thirty-five years. My gut tells me that he wants to wrap up loose ends so he can announce his retirement. I’m not looking forward to job hunting, or not working for him. He’s a great boss, and Mrs. Warren is a hoot.
Quickly I fire off a text to Whit.
Me: Boss man says okay to another long weekend. Hit me with some dates.
Setting my phone to the side, I fire up my computer and get to work. It only takes me a couple of hours to get through the pending cases; I knew we were slowing down, but this really puts it into perspective for me. I quickly type up a log of what’s still pending and what we’re waiting on, make a few calls to the courthouse and a few to the opposing counsel and add that to my document before sending it off in an e-mail to Mr. Warren.
Stomach growling, I realize I’ve consumed nothing but coffee today. Grabbing my purse and phone, I call down the hall, “Going to lunch, you need anything?”
“No, thank you. The missus should be here soon,” he calls back.
I take off down the street and decide on a little café on the corner. They have great salads, sandwiches and wraps, and today I decide on a grilled chicken salad. Taking my tray to a table in the back corner, I dive in hungrily, my phone suddenly vibrating in my purse next to me scaring me half to death.
I dig it out and swipe the screen to find I have five text messages. I go to the name that draws me in first.
Mike.
Mike: Sucks eating alone. Hope your day is going well.
He attached a picture of a lunchmeat sandwich sitting on a plate on what looks like his coffee table.
I snap a quick picture of my salad and send it off with the caption “Wish you were here.” I hit Send before I can think twice about it and then open the texts from Whitney.
Whitney: Really? Hell yes!
Whitney: How about the second week of April? That’s about halfway to the wedding.
Whitney: Hello?
Me: Sorry, I was working. That sounds good to me. I’ll tell Mr. Warren when I get back to the office.
Whitney: Aaron says he’ll get you a plane ticket.
Me: Tell Aaron he’s sweet, but really the drive is nothing. I don’t mind it. I’ll call you later tonight.
Whitney: Stubborn.
Me: Love you.
I pick up my fork to finish my salad when my phone vibrates across the table.
Mike: Me too, James. Me too.
Again with the warm gooey feeling. What is it about this guy that has me feeling like a teenager with her first crush?
I don’t reply. Instead I pick up my trash, place it on the tray and toss it all in the garbage can. Appetite gone—I have too many butterflies in my belly. I don’t know if they’re because of his words, the fact that he’s thinking about me, or that in just five short weeks I get to see him again.
Now to decide if I’m going to tell him or make it a surprise. I’ll need to make sure Whit is in on it so she can warn everyone not to spill the beans.