“Bye, love,” he whispers.
“Bye, handsome. Go crunch some numbers or audit something or whatever the fuck it is you do.” He shakes against me with laughter and pulls back, winking before he walks into the room. My eyes quickly scan the table for my empty bakery boxes when I stop on a familiar smirk that is plastered on the face of the man who had picked up the tarts for his father last week. His eyes rake over my body, slow and sleazy like and I suddenly feel dirty as Ian clears his throat, earning my attention.
“Bye, Dylan,” he says and I wave awkwardly, turning on my heels and hearing the sound of the doors close behind me.
What the fuck was that guy doing here? And why the hell did he stare at me like that? I ride the elevators down and march purposely through the lobby as my mind races. I find Joey outside in the van talking on his phone as I hop in the driver’s seat and start it up.
“Okay, baby. I love you too. Bye.” He ends his call and lays his head back dramatically onto the seat. “I’m in deep, cupcake.”
“I can tell,” I reply playfully. “You are not going to believe who I just saw sitting in the meeting.” After waiting a minute for effect, Joey motions with his hands for me to hurry the fuck up with my information as I drive down the street. “That guy that gave me his card the other day in the shop. The cocky one who picked up the tarts.”
I hear his sharp breath intake. “Are you serious? What the hell was he doing there? Does he work there? Holy shit, are him and Reese co-workers?”
These are the same questions that are running through my mind. “I don’t know, I didn’t get to ask. I really hope not though. Asshole stared at me like he wanted to eat me.” I feel a chill run through me at the memory of it.
“That’s probably because he does. He wasn’t shy about wanting you last week and I’m sure seeing you again with Reese’s dick in your mouth didn’t help.”
I scowl at him. “Christ almighty, Joey, he just saw me kiss him.” In fact, everyone saw me kiss him. “Okay so you’re kind of an expert at the whole casual sex stuff right? Have you ever seen a guy that you are just fucking more than once in the same day? I mean, do you space out the times you spend together or do you just say fuck it and see him whenever you both feel like it?”
Joey chuckles before he answers. “Honestly, when I’ve done the just sex stuff before, we saw each other often because we wanted to fuck often. I think as long as you both can keep yourselves from getting too wrapped up in it, there shouldn’t be that many rules.” He slips his phone out of his pocket and begins messing with it, ending our discussion.
I contemplate Joey’s explanation to me as we drive to the shop. There shouldn’t be too many rules? I felt like rules were extremely necessary, at least for me to be able to do this successfully. There are certain things that just can’t happen between Reese and me. Like sleepovers and meeting each other’s families and doing anything too romantic or intimate. Keeping myself from getting too wrapped up in him is the biggest struggle of my life but immensely worth it. I want to do this with him more than anything because I love being with him. The alternative, ending this because it’s too hard for me sent a pain through my body at the very idea of it. If anyone is going to fuck this up between us, it’s going to be me. He isn’t going to interpret things the way they aren’t meant to be interpreted and he isn’t going to get too attached so neither should I. He’s used to not doing serious, and even though I’m not, I can keep up. I’m determined to make this work and I will. I just need to stop acting like a stupid girl about it.
I closed up the shop on Tuesday night at 6:00p.m, saying goodnight to Joey after he helped me put any uneaten goodies away. My mind had been on Reese all afternoon and I was aching to be with him, and not just for sex. I wanted to talk to him and play with him. I just wanted to see him. And he wanted to see me. I had originally planned on spending my night watching television or taking a long bath, but neither one of those options sounded appealing anymore. I stopped fighting it and quickly made up my mind. Slipping off my apron and grabbing my purse and keys, I locked up the shop behind me and strolled towards Sam.
Driving to Reese’s building was an easy route from the bakery. He lived in Printer’s Row which was just south of downtown Chicago, a mere five minutes away. I was very familiar with the area, having catered to several businesses in the trendy upscale neighborhood. I liked this part of the city, and told myself that I really should come down here more often as I park Sam down the street a bit and lock him up, beginning the short walk to the front of the condos.