Chapter 5

Chapter

Five

TREY

It’s an unusually mild Saturday for this time of year. Gemma suggested we have coffee while we go for a walk. We agree to meet at a specific location on Broad Street, a historic city street.

I’m wearing a non-Bombers baseball cap and aviator sunglasses. I’m not usually recognized in Philly like I am in New York, but better safe than sorry.

I’m also wearing loose-fitting gray sweatpants. It’s been a few days since I got the piercing, and I seem to be healing, but being around her will be tough. I’m terrified that I’ll get hard and it will pull something.

I notice her sitting on a bench right away. She’s dressed a bit more casually today, though she still looks amazing. She’s in tight jeans, boots, and some sort of stylish sweater with an equally stylish scarf. Her oversized sunglasses give her a mysterious, sexy vibe.

Who am I kidding? Everything about her is sexy.

She waves and smiles as I approach. So fucking beautiful .

Without thinking, I bend to kiss her cheek and inhale her scent. “You look pretty. You smell nice too.”

She sucks in a breath. I clearly caught her off guard.

“Sorry. Umm…here’s your coffee with a splash of skim milk, per your request.” I hand it to her, practically shoving it into her hands.

She tentatively takes it from me. “Thank you. It was sweet of you to offer to buy it on your way.”

“My pleasure.”

She stands and lifts her purse strap so it’s running across her chest, and then links her arm through mine. “Let’s walk and talk while we drink our coffees.”

“Sounds good.”

Normally I’d be ecstatic that she’s touching me, but I can’t get hard.

Smelly locker rooms. Smelly locker rooms.

I seem okay, so I smile down at her. “Did you have a nice week?”

“I did, thank you.” She audibly exhales. “I was thinking about our conversation from the other night. I feel like I threw you into the deep end. We should take a step back and talk about some of the smaller things that book boyfriends do to make women happy.”

“Like what?”

“Well…” She looks down at our linked arms. “This. Subtle touching. Locked arms, holding hands, lower back touches, neck or arm touches, and basically any contact that’s not traditionally sexual. Book boyfriends often find it hard to keep their hands off their women. They want to be in her airspace at all times.”

I understand the feeling.

“Are those things you like?”

She thinks for a moment. “I think I would, with the right person. With the wrong person, I can imagine it would be a little suffocating. ”

I think back to the two books of hers I read this week. There’s definitely a lot of touching. And she always has the men grabbing the women by the hips.

Incidentally, reading her books while my dick is healing was a mistake. In every fictitious sexual encounter, I was imagining her and me. My piercing kept pulling. I earmarked the sex scenes and will come back to them in another week or two.

“What about hips? I’m a hip man. I love touching the curve of a woman’s hip.”

I can’t help but look down at where her jeans hug her shapely hips perfectly. She’s effortlessly sensuous.

She swallows. “Absolutely. Hip grabbing is good. Very good. Have you spoken with Jenna at all?”

I nod. “I have. I’m learning more about her every day.”

She smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “That’s great. Are you going to see her again?”

“Yes, today.”

“Wonderful. Make sure you’re engaged with her. Listen to her and respond accordingly. Don’t just nod your head. Ask follow-up questions. Men who talk about themselves throughout an entire date are red flags. They’re narcissists. Dating is about equally getting to know each other, right? Book boyfriends hang on every word from the object of their affection and respond accordingly.”

“Of course. What was your best first date?”

“Ooh. Tough one. It’s been a while since I’ve had a good first date.”

I see the moment it hits her. A small smile finds her full lips.

“I know this sounds cheesy, but when I was fifteen, I went on a date with a boy a year older than me. He drove, which was a big deal at the time. He picked me up at my house and opened the passenger’s side car door for me. When I looked inside, there was a single red rose sitting on the seat waiting for me. It was just the sweetest, most thoughtful moment, and it set the tone for a nice evening.”

“You like flowers?”

“Well, I suppose, but it was the thoughtfulness that struck a chord, not the flower per se. The fact that he considered me earlier in the day enough to buy me a flower was special. Women want to feel special. Book boyfriends think about their women before the date and do considerate things like that. It doesn’t have to be excessive or expensive. Just small gestures like that, letting her know she was on his mind. Asking me how I take my coffee so you can buy me a cup is a great example of that.”

“I understand. What are some other good book-boyfriend first-date gestures?”

“Hmm. Let me think about what a book boyfriend would do that most men don’t do in real life. Oh, I’ve got one. On a normal dinner date, you sit across from the person, right?”

“Yes.”

“In romance novels, the men always want to be as close to their woman as possible. They sit on the same side of the booth. It enables more physical intimacy.”

I wordlessly nod, absorbing what she’s saying when her phone rings. She pulls it out and looks at it. “Sorry. It’s my mother. Do you mind if I take it? She doesn’t usually call for no reason. She’s not a chit-chat person.”

“Go ahead.”

She answers on speaker. “Hi, Mom. I’m in a meeting. Is everything okay?”

Her mother answers. “It’s Saturday, Gemma. Why are you in a meeting? You work too much. You’ll never find yourself a husband if you work this hard.”

Gemma rolls her eyes. “Thank you for your unsolicited opinion. Is there something you need ?”

“Yes. Byron is having a poolside luncheon two weeks from today, and I want you to come. His daughter is in town, and I’d like you to meet her.”

“A poolside luncheon? It’s nearly winter.”

“He has an indoor pool in addition to the outdoor one. The house is truly stunning. It was featured in Architectural Digest last year. You’ll love it.”

I see that her coffee is empty and feel like I should give her some privacy. I lean over and quietly ask, “Do you want a refill?”

Before she can answer, her mother asks, “Is that a man’s voice? Are you on a date?”

“No, he’s just a friend.”

Her phone pings that her mother is now changing the audio call to a video call. Gemma sighs as she answers. She gives a clearly fake smile. “Hello, Mother.”

“Turn the phone to your date.”

“He’s not my date. He’s a friend.”

She commands, “Turn the phone.”

Gemma turns the screen toward me. Her mom is an attractive woman. She has Gemma’s coloring, hair, and facial features but not her gorgeous green eyes. She must have gotten them from her father.

I smile. “Hello, Mrs. Fairchild.”

“Well hello to you too, mister tall, dark, and handsome. What’s your name?”

Gemma covers her eyes in mortification. It’s adorable.

“Trey.”

“Well, Trey, please join Gemma as her date for the gathering. I’d love to meet you.”

Gemma grabs the phone. “Trey is busy. He can’t come.”

I hear her mom’s voice. “Is that true, Trey?”

I mouth to Gemma. “It’s not a big deal.” So her mom can hear me, I answer, “I can move some things around. I’d love to come. ”

“Wonderful. I’ll text Gemma the details. I’m thrilled that Gemma finally has a boyfriend.”

“Mom, he’s not my—”

Before Gemma can correct her again, her mom hangs up. She blows out a breath. “I’m so sorry about that. I’ll make up an excuse as to why you can’t come. I can’t imagine going to her boyfriend’s house is at the top of your to-do list.”

I shrug. “It’s not a big deal. I’m happy to go. I have nothing else going on that day.”

An idea occurs to me. “Maybe I can practice my book-boyfriend moves on you. You can tell me if I’m doing them right and give me some…on-the-job training. It will be like a trial run.”

She runs her bottom lip through her teeth.

Smelly locker rooms. Smelly locker rooms.

“I suppose that could work, and I wouldn’t mind the familiar face. I want to prepare you. My mom is kind of a snob, and her life’s mission is for me to get married and have kids. She’ll probably have an officiant at her boyfriend’s house to marry us.”

I let out a laugh. “My mom too. It’s fine.”

“Thank you. It’s very kind of you.”

“I’m guessing this is a newer boyfriend since you haven’t met his daughter yet?”

She nods. “Yes. I’ve only met him once, and my mother is a handful. She and I don’t always see eye to eye on things.”

“You mentioned a grandmother who helped you through the divorce. Is she still with us?”

She smiles. “Yes. She lives down on the west coast of Florida. I talk to her at least once a week. I’ll be down there for Christmas. I know it’s strange, but I love spending time with her and her friends. They’re a riot. It gives me a little perspective. If that makes sense.”

“It does. My niece does the same for me. I don’t see her as much as I’d like with my crazy schedule, but spending time with her, or even a phone call from her, is my happy place.”

“Remind me, how old is she?”

“Four.”

“Right. Where does your sister live?”

“In Greenwich, Connecticut. It’s a great area.”

Just then, a football lands at our feet and Gemma picks it up. We see kids down the block waving for us to throw it to them.

I hold out my hand. “It’s a far throw. Do you want me to do it?”

She narrows her eyes at me. “No, Trey, I don’t. I told you that I played football.”

I can’t help but smile at her indignation and decide to poke the bear a little more. “Weren’t you a kicker? Are you going to kick it across the street?”

She hands me her coffee cup. “Hold my beer, big shot.”

She rears back and rifles a perfect spiral right into the chest of a shocked teenage boy. If I wasn’t in love already, I would be now.

I lift the corner of my mouth. “Well, I don’t think I could have thrown it that well, quarterback princess.”

She gives me a strong nod. “Damn right, you couldn’t. That was Vance McCaffrey good.”

I chuckle at her reference to the quarterback of Philadelphia’s professional football team. “Do you watch football too?”

“Hell yes. I’m a football girl through and through. I bleed Philly green. I watch every game with my two best friends. What about you?”

I don’t actually care for Philly football, but I don’t think she’ll like that answer. I keep it vague. “I love watching football. I go to some games now and then.”

“Phew. I’d have to fire you as a client if you answered differently. ”

As we pass a coffee shop, I run inside to refill our cups before returning. We walk and talk a bit more until we approach City Hall. She looks up at the big Christmas tree with a smile.

I’m about to mention that I didn’t know Philly had such a big Christmas tree on display when I catch myself. I suppose I should know that.

Instead, I ask, “Fond memories?”

She nods. “I grew up in the suburbs. My grandparents used to bring me down here at Christmas time to see the tree. My friends would go to New York to see the big one at Rockefeller Center, but my grandparents preferred this one. It’s grown at a farm in Pennsylvania, and they were born and bred here. After my grandfather passed, my grandmother continued bringing me here every year until she moved to Florida.”

We stare for a bit before sitting down on a bench. She looks at me. “Let’s get back to book-boyfriend stuff. I know that’s why you’re here. I was talking to one of my author friends, and she felt like we’d be remiss not to talk about the big elephant in the room.”

Oh shit. She knows.

I swallow. “What’s that?”

“Sex. Sex in romance novels is very different from real-life sex. Novels tend to romanticize it a bit, setting women’s expectations unfairly high.”

“Maybe you’ve been having sex with the wrong men.”

She brings her lips together, trying to fight a smile. “That was a good comeback. Nonetheless, it’s true. Women don’t come as easily and often as they do in romance novels.”

I look her in the eyes. “Once again, perhaps you’ve been having sex with the wrong men.”

She playfully narrows her eyes at me. “Okay, tough guy, I’m going to test you.”

I smile. “Fire away.”

“What does it mean when she screams that she’s close? ”

“That she’s not seconds away, more like a minute or two.”

“And what should you do?”

“Not change my pace or positioning.”

She lifts an eyebrow. “Very good. A lot of men decide that’s the time to change things up. Big mistake.”

I wink. “What other sexual advice do you have for us unworthy non-book-boyfriends?”

“Dirty talk.”

“What about it?”

“Every, and I mean every , woman likes it. They may vary in how dirty they like it, and how much of it they want, but no one likes a silent partner in bed. Most men struggle with it. Every man should read romance novels to learn how women want to be spoken to during sex.”

“Noted. I promise to do some homework.”

She has no idea what she’s in store for.