7. Simon

CHAPTER 7

Simon

The fact that the sweet woman who I want to absolutely eat up works in a bakery is perfect. I step through the door of Books and Buns, and am met with the sound of a tinkling bell overhead and the mouthwatering aroma of butter, vanilla, cinnamon, and chocolate, and I’m instantly delighted.

There are a couple of women sitting at a small table near the window, and an older gentleman with his newspaper, a coffee cup and an empty plate at a high table closer to the counter, but it is relatively quiet. I’d chosen to come after noon, assuming the bakery was busier in the morning.

Finding out where Elise works was easy. Nathan had returned to his box at the Racketeers arena after Elise had departed and had taken one look at my grin and asked if I was going to see her again. When I said, ‘yes, as soon as you tell me where to find her’, he’d given me the name and address of the bakery. I chalk it up to him being madly in love and now a dad. I’m not sure the old Nathan would have given the information up as easily, but the new Nathan is head over heels and understands the need I’m feeling. I have to see her.

I’d given Elise a couple of days and yes, I’d hoped that perhaps she would reach out to me, but I wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t. Not only had she been flustered the other night, but she clearly has a stubborn streak. Whatever it is that makes her think that nothing can happen between us is rooted deep.

I look forward to convincing her she’s wrong.

Starting today.

The tiny woman behind the counter has blonde hair that’s almost white with pink streaks through it, is wearing a bright pink apron, and greets me with a friendly smile.

“Welcome! Can I help you?”

“You must be Luna,” I say, giving her the smile I use when seeing my grandmother, asking my assistant to do a particularly annoying task for me, or buying from the lovely ladies who run the fresh produce market down the street from my building. It’s my charming-but-I’m-not-flirting smile.

“I am. Have we met?” Luna asks.

“No. I’m Nathan Armstrong‘s cousin. He told me all about your bakery and that you and Danielle used to be in business together.”

Her eyes widen. “You’re Simon?”

Ah, ha. Someone has mentioned my name. I hope it wasn’t Danielle. Or that it wasn’t only Danielle, anyway.

I tuck my hands into my pants pockets and work on acting nonchalant. “That’s right. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, too.” Her smile changes from friendly to sly. “Are you here to try my macarons?”

“Of course. And eclairs.” Everything in the bakery case looks amazing.

She laughs lightly, the sound making me smile. “I don’t think we should start our friendship off with a lie Simon.”

“Are we going to be friends?” I ask.

“As long as you treat Elise well, we will be,” she says. “I care about that girl and she deserves a great guy.”

Excellent. Elise has mentioned me. By name.

“That is completely my intention. Is she here?” I ask, deciding there’s no reason to tease or joke about why I’m here.

“Actually, she’s?—”

“ Simon ?”

I turn to find Elise standing just inside the wide, arched doorway that separates the bakery from the attached bookshop. She’s wearing a curve-hugging red dress that makes my mouth go dry. Her hair is gathered to one side, and she has a black hat with netting falling partially over her right eye. She’s also wearing chunky black heels and sheer black stockings.

I feel my entire body straining toward her, but I make myself stay in place and give her my charming-I’m-definitely-flirting-now smile.

“Hello, Elise.”

“Oh my God, what are you doing here?”

“You really don’t know?” I ask her.

She presses her lips together.

“I’m here to see you. To charm your pants off.” I let my gaze track over her slowly. “Though I’m very pleased to see you’re not wearing any.” Now I walk toward her. “Fuck me, Elise, you’re stunning.”

She wets her lips but pulls herself straighter and says, “So you have graduated to stalking now?”

My smile widens. “Yes. I had to see you.”

She crosses her arms over her midsection. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I know that’s what you think . But I’m more interested in how you feel .” I stop in front of her. “You’ve been thinking about me.”

“I see your ego is intact.”

“You told Luna about me.” I grin. “But did you only tell her about the other night at the hockey game, or did you tell her about making out with me in my office before thoroughly ghosting me?”

“I—”

“Both,” Luna fills in as I lift a hand and run my thumb over Elise’s silky cheek.

Elise shoots her a look. “Okay, enough of you two talking.” Elise takes my hand and pulls me toward the steps. “You don’t believe that I’m too much of a mess? Come on. I’ll show you.”

I wrap my hand around hers, loving the feel of her delicate bones and soft, warm skin. I’ll follow her anywhere. I glance back at Luna. She’s just smiling as she watches us go.

“Thought she’s into the firefighter,” the man at the tall table says.

“She is,” Luna says brightly. “Isn’t it great?”

Firefighter? Who is the?—

But any questions fly out of my mind when I step off the top step into the little hallway on the second floor and follow Elise through the door and into what is clearly her apartment.

“You work here and live here?” I ask.

She drops my hand and stops in the middle of the main room. She faces me and crosses her arms. “Yep.”

“That’s convenient. Did you move here after you quit working for me?”

“Yes.”

“That explains why I couldn’t find you.”

She tips her head to the side, studying me. “You really tried to find me?”

“Of course.”

She sighs. “You make it sound like that should be so obvious. But we didn’t have a relationship, Simon. You never declared any feelings for me. I kissed you one time.”

“It was a hell of a kiss,” I tell her. “There was unfinished business.”

She gives a little laugh, but shakes her head in disbelief. She reaches up and pulls the hat from her head, tossing it onto the coffee table. “Simon, you’re a rich, good looking, charming, intelligent, amazing guy. You could have anyone. There is no way that one kiss with me was that life altering.” She bends and unstraps her shoes, kicking them off to the side as she asks, “What is really going on? Is it that you just want something you think you can’t have? Or you just want to have a fling while you’re here in Chicago?”

I step toward her, my toe kicking a box that rattles, but I don’t even look down. “It’s chemistry, love. I’m not trying to explain it. I don’t need to. It’s one of life’s fun mysteries. I just want to enjoy it. I’ll admit after you left, I was worried, and curious, about what caused your quick exit. But yes, I was intrigued by you. I wanted you. The chance to get to know you better, to finally have you if I can, won’t leave me alone now that I’ve found you again.”

She narrows her eyes. “I think maybe you’re a little crazy.”

“I’ve been called worse.”

She spreads her arms and looks around the room. “Okay, well, this is it. This is the real me. If you’re not crazy now, I’ll drive you there soon enough.”

I look around her apartment. Before this, she was the only thing in the room that mattered. Now I take in details.

It’s cluttered. Her coffee table is piled high with catalogs and papers, a plastic container of bright beads, another with multi-colored gemstones. There are dresses spread out on nearly every piece of furniture, and there are shoes lying all over the floor. Scarves and necklaces dangle from lamps. More scarves and belts and gloves are draped over the back of chairs. There’s nowhere to sit on her couch save one empty cushion. The others have pillows piled high with dresses, stockings, and shawls draped over them.

Behind the sofa, the room opens into what would typically be a dining area. There is a table there, but it holds three different sewing machines, various tools, including scissors, tape measures, and the like.

There are more reams of fabric stacked at the end. Bolts of fabric are propped in one corner and more dresses on hangers are suspended from the chandelier over the table. Every single chair has what looks to be catalogs or more fabric on them.

The walls are covered with sketches and photos, pinned and taped up.

To the left is an island that separates the dining area from the kitchen. It, too, is covered with books, catalogs, material, shoes, bags, and other accessories.

I look down and see that the box I kicked is full of what looks to be jewelry. Pieces of varying sizes and colors fill the plastic tub.

Finally, my eyes meet Elise’s again. “What are you trying to tell me?”

“My apartment always looks like this.”

“What is all of this?”

“I design dresses. I make them. I also model them. I compete in pinup model contests.”

I had no idea. That’s so interesting. So unique. “That’s amazing.”

“You think so?”

“Of course. Love, you’re a knockout and obviously passionate and talented. Show me your designs.”

“What?” She laughs. “No.”

“Yes. Elise, I insist.”

“Well, you can’t insist. You’re not my boss anymore.”

I give her a grin. “Hmm… you might like my bossy side.”

I see her eyes widen. “Oh?”

I chuckle. “You have no idea how many times I thought about summoning you to my office, ordering you to bend over my desk, and fucking you until you screamed my name so loud the entire upper floor could hear you.”

Her breath catches. “Geez, Simon.” She puts her hand on her chest. “You can’t just be sweet and charming one minute and then dirty and hot the next without any warning.”

I grin at her. “Oh, but I can. You’ll have to get used to it, I guess.”

She bites her lower lip, then says, “We’ll see if you stick around.”

I look around her apartment. “Does all of this bother you? Do you want me to hire you a cleaning service or get you an assistant?”

She looks surprised for a moment. Then she shakes her head. “No. I’m fine. It bothers other people.”

“What other people?”

She laughs. “Everyone, Simon. Everyone. My parents. My ex-boyfriend. Luna, though she won’t say it. Definitely you.”

I step toward her again. “This is at least the third time you’ve mentioned me. Where is that coming from?”

“I worked for you. I saw your desk, your calendar, your office. Sonia made sure that I knew we had to keep everything neat and organized. You like things a certain way. Even your coffee order.”

I relax. Now I understand. I step close to her again. “Doesn’t everyone have a particular coffee order?”

She nods. “Sure. But Sonia made it sound as if it was the end of the world if we messed it up.”

I lift my hand and brush the back of my knuckles over her cheek again. I cannot wait till I can fully touch this woman. She’s soft and warm on the inside and out.

“Everything you said, about the way that Sonia approached my daily schedule and my office and my desk, came from Sonia.”

Elise frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I am…untidy, Elise,” I confess. “I am unorganized. I hate calendars. I hate having my schedule dictated down to the minute. My desk was a disaster when Sonia came to work for me. I drove her nuts. It helped her do her job as my assistant to keep my desk neat and tidy, my calendar perfectly organized, and my office meticulously clean. She was a minimalist. And hiring her was the best idea I ever had. Because she did help me function better. Because I’m not like that at all.”

Elise seems to take a moment to process that.

“I want you, Elise. Messy, late, unorganized. I don’t care.”

“You don’t even know me,” she protests, though her voice is soft.

“You always bought an extra coffee for one of the other assistants, Marci,” I say, ready to put my heart right in her hands. “She was a single mom and was always rushed in the morning and didn’t have time to get her own. You always had an extra sweater at work because one of the girls, Holly, was always cold and never brought her own. You wore different earrings every single day for a month before starting to repeat them.” I look down at the box at my feet. I realize what I’m really looking at. “You collect jewelry?”

She nods, looking like she’s so stunned she doesn’t remember to argue with me or push back. “I love to shop in vintage shops. I also make some of it.”

I smile. “You had three different perfumes. One that smelled like lilacs, one that smelled like lemons and vanilla, and a spicy one that was musky, maybe amber or something?”

She nods again, slowly, as if she can’t believe what I’m saying.

“I would call you into my office sometimes for no real reason, just because I wanted to have the scent of you linger for a little while.”

“Simon,” she says softly.

“I like you, Elise. From all the little things I noticed, to the big things like how funny and sarcastic you are. I think you’re special and I want to get to know you better. Where’s the harm in that?”

She takes a deep breath, then says, “I have ADHD. I spent my life in a house with two parents who I drove crazy. My mom was a lot more loving and understanding about it, but my father was a perfectionist, and he hated how messy and scatter-brained I was. It took a while to get a diagnosis, but even when we did, he didn’t believe in medication for it. He said I just needed to pay more attention and try harder. So I’ve had to cope and adapt as best I can. I’m medicated now, which helps a lot, but there are just things that are a part of who I am.”

I frown. The ADHD makes sense. I can’t imagine a parent understanding something like that about their child, but refusing to pursue every avenue for help. But if that’s what she grew up with and dealt with, then her inability to believe other people can want to be close to her adds up.

She swallows hard and continues, “I will be late for things. I will forget dates and anniversaries. I will forget to text back. And none of that means that I don’t care, I just forget. And then feel terrible and beat myself up. I’ve lost a lot of friendships. I’ve lost a couple of serious boyfriends. I don’t even have a great relationship with my parents honestly. All because of that. People don’t like coming over. I don’t like having people over. My place is a mess, but it makes me happy. I know where things are. I not only need to have all my stuff out, I like having my stuff around me. And I can’t do jobs like being your assistant. I quit because I was terrible at it and I didn’t want you to find out because I didn’t want you to have any negative thoughts about me. I stayed longer than I should have because I liked being around you. I was afraid of getting in too deep.”

I give her a few seconds to be sure she’s finished. Then I say, “Thank you for telling me all of that.”

“I used to try to hide it, but that never worked in the end. I can’t compensate for long enough to really make relationships work, so I decided to be upfront with people from the start.”

She’s telling this to turn me off. To convince me we can’t work before we’ve even started. But she’s also showing me a very vulnerable side. She’s opening up and letting me in and it makes me want to take care of her and prove that everyone who didn’t stick around, who made her feel like there was something wrong with her, and that she messed everything up, was not worthy of her.

“I hope this means that you are going to give me a chance. Because we absolutely were, and are, going to get in too deep,” I tell her, my voice husky.

She wets her lips, then takes a tiny step closer to me. “I’m sorry in advance for missing your birthday.”

I huff out a small laugh. “Do you really think that a guy like me, with an ego like mine, won’t remind you a million times?”

I see her shoulders relax, and she smiles, which makes the tightness in my chest loosen slightly.

“The thing is, I don’t think you have that big of an ego after all.”

“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”

“It must be a good thing,” she says, her voice softer now. “Because I like you. I really like you, Simon.”

Thank God. “Let me take you out.”

She arches a brow. “Out?”

“Yes. Out. On a date. A fancy dinner. Dancing. A show. Turks and Caicos. Wherever you want to go.”

Her laugh is louder and freer now. “Dinner or Turks and Caicos? That’s quite a spectrum.”

I shrug. “Dinner in Turks and Caicos.” I cup her cheek. “Let me spoil you. Let me show you how much I want you. Just the way you are.”

She hesitates, then takes the final step that presses our bodies against one another. She slides her hand up my chest to the back of my neck. “I have a very good idea about how you can show me how much you want me.”

My body heats and my heart starts pumping but I say, “This doesn’t have to be about sex tonight. I want more than that.”

“I believe you. I want more than that too,” she tells me.

Her fingers continue up into my hair and I shiver at how good it feels to feel her nails drag over my scalp.

“But I really want this,” she says. “I’ve wanted this for a long time. I’ve had so many daydreams about you.”

I groan softly and my hands move down her back to her waist. “Please tell me they involve my desk and you in some of those fuck-me heels you used to wear to the office.”

“Please tell me all about your daydreams,” she says huskily.

I slide my hands to her ass and squeeze. “You have no idea how fucking dirty we made my very neat and tidy desk.”

She breathes out as if in relief. “Oh God. You have no idea how much I wanted to mess up your desk.”

“We are very much on the same page. We can always do Turks and Caicos later.”

She laughs. “I need to put on heels if we’re going to do this right.”

“Yes, you do.” I look around and spot a pair of cherry red heels near the armchair. I point. “Those.”