Crashing into Love Page 6

  “Red.” Baker scares me a bit as I haven’t looked up from my screen in hours. Daydreaming. Working. A bit of both.

  “Hey.” I smile up at him.

  “Are you busy?” he asks.

  “Work? I think.” I try not to giggle, but I can’t help it. “You guys keep me busy.” I set my pen down and look up at him.

  The way he leans over my desk with the sun shining in the background makes him look like some sort of devilish angel.

  “I just got a call that one of my clients wants to meet tonight. He keeps the craziest hours.”

  “Do you need me to do anything to help you prep?”

  I know the employees here work hard, but I do too. My father doesn’t recognize it, and because he doesn’t, it trickles down to everyone else. Baker is the only one who respects me or makes an effort to notice my existence. He always acknowledges me and does little things to say thank you. He even asks how I’m doing or if there is anything he can do to help me. Sometimes, I think he’s flirting with me—like at the beach—and sometimes I think he’s just being nice.

  “No, I’ve got it handled. But I was wondering . . .” He pushes his dark hair away from his face and I watch the front flop back onto his forehead.

  “I get it, Baker. All your clients all love you. I get so many messages about how you take care of everything and everyone. Your hard work and long hours don’t go unnoticed.” I smile and gesture to the phone. He shrugs like he doesn’t realize how much of an effect he has on people.

  Charismatic and charming doesn’t even begin to cover it with Baker. Since I’ve known him, he walks into a room and everyone reacts to him. He hits his milestones faster than everyone on the team; has the most clients with the most positive outcomes. He’s great at his job.

  “Actually,” he says, and I sense a bit of nervousness from him. Then he steps back and stands up a bit straighter. “The client wants me to meet him at a club tonight. It’s just opening, and the crowds will be wild. He suggested I bring a date if I didn’t want the ladies crawling all over me.”

  Wow, I wonder which client this is because I don’t recall us having a club owner on the roster.

  “Okay. Do you need me to find an escort service or something for you?” Confusion lines my face because I’ve done a lot for these guys, but I’ve never called an escort service.

  He bursts out laughing. “Oh my god, Sutton. No, I’m not asking you to find me an escort.” He stops speaking and slaps his hand on my desk. “Geez, woman. I’m asking you to go to a business meeting with me at a club.”

  “Ohhh.” My mouth drops open and I know, technically it’s not a date, but that doesn’t mean I can’t dress club appropriate.

  I finally close my mouth and look down at the papers covering my desk. “Sure,” I say, before looking back up at him. “I’ll go with you, but you have to pick me up and drop me off after. Deal?”

  “Deal.” He winks at me and walks off.

  A few minutes later, I get a text from him.

  Baker: Be ready at 8:30.

  Sutton: See you then.

  I scream internally and then look at the clock. It’s after three, so I decide to skip out early. My fingers fly over the keyboard as I email Chari letting her know I’ll be gone the rest of the afternoon. Then I lock up my desk and head out to do a bit of shopping.

  The Golden Girl

  Capricorn, Cupcakes & Cocktails

  Last night I had a fabulous date. Okay, technically it wasn’t a date, it was a work outing, but it felt like a date. Plus, it was at the newest club in town. It’s a good thing I went all out when I got dressed, or I’d have stood out like a sore thumb.

  A dark red bandeau midi dress with a ruffle at the hem and a Bardot neckline with my favorite black heels that lace up my calves, made all the heads turn when we walked in. The bottom part of the club, seemed more like an upscale bar, where the lighting was beautiful and the people were dressed elegantly, so I fit right in.

  What I didn’t learn until we were almost there, was that the owner wanted to treat us to a night out in appreciation for all the work we did to get this place up and running. Each floor was vastly different, but all extremely well-designed.

  The second floor had a bar that lined the room but was almost hidden in the walls. There was nothing but couches and oversized chairs scattered throughout. I ventured to guess it was a couples only location. When I asked, the owner just smiled at me, and it wasn’t a smile I liked. It gave me the creeps, which made me grab onto B and hold tight.

  As we made our way to the third floor, I realized it was a strip club. A high-end strip club, but still a strip club, nonetheless. I watched the owner and B interact, and I wondered if he really told him to bring a date or if it was B’s idea. I gathered based on the owner’s mannerisms and comments that he’d rather B partake in what he was putting down. Maybe it was a good thing I was there.

  B was super attentive and made sure he didn’t leave my side. He even stood outside the ladies’ room when I had to take a break. He always got my drinks himself and made sure that nothing happened to me, which I appreciated.

  By the time we left, my feet were screaming, I was exhausted and a little bit tipsy. The elevator ride to the parking garage was quick and I said a silent prayer of relief when B opened the door to the car for me.

  I allowed the beautiful, chocolate brown leather seat to form to my body. Closing my eyes, I laid my head back and rested my eyes for a moment. A few minutes later we were on our way out of there.

  We were both quiet on our way back to my house, and for that I was grateful. This night had me feeling all sorts of things. We pulled up to the front of my building and B jumped out to open the door for me.

  I slid one foot out, then the other, and he pulled me to my feet. I wobbled just a bit and landed on his chest. Allowing myself to stay there for a second, I took in a deep breath of B. His smell is totally intoxicating, and I wouldn’t have said no if he had asked to go in with me. But he didn’t. He was a complete gentleman. Holding my hand, we made our way to the door. Dropping my hand, he pulled me in for what I thought was going to be a hug, but our lips met in a delicate manner and I nearly melted into a puddle at his feet.

  “Have a good night,” he said, before winking at me. I watched him make his way back to the car before he pulled off into the night.

  Until next time,

  Searching Sterling

  Fourteen

  I’m down to two Mikes, sort of. Pilot Mike is a huge flirt and likes to send dick pics. Many mornings I’ve woken up to some interesting pictures on my phone that I just can’t get out of my mind. My girlfriends can’t believe that this stuff happens, but I promise them it does. One day I’m going to send them screenshots of the craziness that lands in my inbox so they will stop teasing me.

  I despise group texts—except for the ones with all my girlfriends. Since Pilot Mike sent me another one this morning, I’m going to share with the girls.

  Sutton: Anyone else want a dick pic this beautiful Wednesday morning?

  Wren: That’s all you.

  Amber: Nope, I’ve got all the dick I want.

  Bri: Nope, the last one you showed me was nasty.

  Charlie: No way.

  Sutton: Well, I don’t mind sharing if you need to see it. Maybe as a reminder?

  Amber: I’m past the point of looking at random dicks. I only want Matt’s.

  Charlie: Gag me, Amber. Your love makes me sick. LOL

  Amber: You’re just jealous.

  Charlie: That I am.

  Wren: If you don’t want them, why do you think we would?

  Sutton: Touché. Touché.

  I’m not sure where Pilot Mike is this morning, but I have to say, he tends to send pictures from the same angle every time, and his hotels are starting to all look the same.

  I’m hoping I finally got rid of Control Freak Mike. I stopped responding to his texts and that he’ll get the hint by my lack of response.

 
Thankfully, Lawyer Mike is easy going. He’s a workaholic, just as I am so I don’t expect to hear from him again anytime soon. But if he does reach out, I’d be willing to go out with him as friends. Just friends.

  “Hey, Red,” Baker says as I knock on his open door.

  I walk in and he smiles at me from his desk. My cheeks heat immediately, as they tend to do every time I see him now. He seems differently lately, and I can’t put my finger exactly what it is. Maybe I’m just getting to know him a little bit better.

  “I need your help with something.” I shift on my orange-colored heels and walk closer to his desk. The dress I’m wearing is tighter than the last time I wore it, but I love the way the black cap sleeves frame my shoulders. I see Baker looking at me with lust in his eyes. Blinking quickly, I realize this isn’t something I’m imagining. He really is staring at me as if he’s dreaming of taking my clothes off.

  “What can I do for you?” he asks as those desire filled eyes follow me while I make my way to the chairs in front of his desk. I get distracted with the way his tan skin contrasts with the bright white of his dress shirt.

  “Sutton?” he questions me.

  “Oh!” I clear my throat at the sound of his rough, velvety voice saying my name. “Sorry, just this proposal for Mr. Sterling. I’m not familiar with what type of services this client will need, and he was very insistent that I get it correct.”

  Baker nods and reaches for the folder I placed on the edge of his desk. “I may have worked with client like this before. Let me take a look at it.”

  He opens the folder and looks at the contents. While he does, I take in the simplicity of his office. He has a couple pictures on the shelves behind his desk, but mostly it’s manuals and books. He doesn’t seem too keen on bringing a touch of home to work, which I totally understand.

  “Can I ask you something?” He suddenly stops reading and looks up at me.

  “Sure.”

  “Why do you call your dad Mr. Sterling?” His lips play at a smile and it makes me take a deep breath before responding. Normally, I’d tell someone it wasn’t their business, but it’s Baker. I don’t think he’ll betray me.

  Most of the employees think I’m riding on my daddy’s coattails and don’t have a lick of sense. Oh, how wrong they’d be. I went to college and got a degree in business, but I don’t tell anyone. It’s more fun to allow people to assume what they want, because someone will call them out on their stupidity, and it won’t have to be me.

  “It’s what he requested. In the office, I’m to call him Mr. Sterling.” I shrug my shoulders. Struggling as to how to explain our unique relationship.

  “Do you guys get along?” he asks.

  I bite my lip as I sigh. “Not really. No.” I try not to be sad about the fact that my father didn’t want a daughter and never let me forget it. He wanted a son, so no matter what I did, it was a disappointment to him. They say time heals all wounds. That’s a load of bull shit. I’ve dealt with the way he feels my whole life and I know no matter what I do, it won’t change. Now, sitting in front of Baker, I try not to let my emotions get to me. Tears threaten and I pray they don’t fall for him to see.

  “It isn’t a big deal. It’s just our relationship.”

  Baker nods slowly. “Is it because he works a lot? I mean, why you came to work for him?”

  Baker seems genuine in his questions, but I don’t want to have this conversation here. He knows my father, and has worked for him for a long time, so I’ll allow him to draw his own conclusions.

  “Sutton, you don’t have to answer me. I’m sorry if I overstepped, I figure if we’re friends . . .”

  “We are friends, Baker. It’s okay. Considering how long you’ve known my father I’m surprised you even have to ask this.”

  “I’m sorry I asked, Sutton.” He smiles softly at me and it calms my nerves. I let out a deep breath and relax, no longer giving in to the anxiety that runs rampant through my body when talking about my relationship with my father.

  “It’s okay. Every family has their issues, I’m just my father’s.”

  “Still. I’m really close with my parents—and my sisters, so I can’t imagine.”

  “Each family is unique. It’s so different for everyone Sometimes good, sometimes bad.” I watch him and I can see the wheels turning in his head. I’m sure he has more questions and I’ll answer as many as I can. “What made you ask me about this?”

  He laughs once, his cheeks flushing a bit as he scratches the back of his head. The bashfulness is kind of cute.

  “I don’t know. Curiosity, maybe? I admire how you don’t take shit from anyone.”

  A loud laugh escapes. “It’s rough sometimes, but I can take care of myself—and you guys.” I shrug my shoulders. I don’t know what else to say, plus the look in his eye is a mixture of lust and inquisitiveness. That is a lethal combination.

  We work together. He’s professional, as am I. I’d do anything to not mess up our friendship and the dynamics in the office. He’s going to be partner someday and I refuse to be the one who messes that up for him. There are no specific policies on office romances, but the board won’t like it. They’re all old-fashioned stiffs who pretend they didn’t bang their secretaries for their whole career.

  Baker is quiet while he finishes reviewing the proposal. I watch him as he flips pages back and forth and makes notes in the margins. Closing the folder, our eyes connect. “Looks good to me.”

  “Thanks, Baker, I really appreciate you taking the time to review this.”

  “Anytime, Sutton. You know that.” Then he continues and what he says next causes a short circuit between my heart and my brain. “Schedule some time for us to have lunch in the next couple of days.”

  I smile, almost wanting to read into it, but there is no doubt he is asking as a friend who has to eat too.

  “That sounds great.”

  Leaving his office, I go back to my desk reading the proposal one more time before sending it out. The time I spent with Baker today has been a bit more emotional than I like for in the office. Yet another reason dating in the office is not a good idea. It’s just too complicated.

  Why, Oh Why?

  Capricorn, Cupcakes & Cocktail

  I’m pretty sure by now you’re wondering why I turned to online dating, am I right?

  Well, dating in Chicago is HARD. And not that good kind of hard that women dream of after a wonderful night out. More like the kind of hard concrete that we hit when the idiot on the bike crashes into a car in the middle of an intersection.

  Don’t get me wrong. I’ve had boyfriends aplenty, but no one who made me think about getting married.

  I’ve dated all kinds of guys.

  The biker—both the Harley kind and the Schwinn type.

  The downtowner. He prefers to eat out for every meal and lives in a high rise.

  The suburbanite. He bitches about the commute and goes to work at the ass crack of dawn so he can leave early

  The CEO aka The Workaholic. The only time he has is between midnight and four a.m. to fuck.

  The artist. He’s poor and happy, often living in his parents’ basement or with a bunch of friends like a forever frat boy.

  The partier and the bartender. Often friends with or even the same guy.

  The wanna be. These guys are harder to spot because they appear to have it all together until BAM. They are all ideas, but no drive.

  Then there is the guy who can’t stand to be told what to do. Seriously you guys, at my age you would think we’d all be past this stage. These are the guys who think their boss is always wrong, and they’re getting passed over, but I can’t tell that they’ve never worked hard for anything.

  Most of these guys I’ve met through friends or in bars, I decided that I wanted to try something new. That something was online dating. So far, the best part of this is I haven’t met Mr. Clingy or Mister Stalker. That means playing the field is the standard, and I’m going to make it work for me.


  Yes, I know some of these are generalizations, but they’re based solely on my experience. I’m tired of being part of a cliché. It’s time to move on and find Mister Forever.

  My forever is going to have to work hard, because I don’t need a man—I want one.

  Until next time,

  Searching Sterling

  Fifteen

  I think I’m a good hostess. However, I never knew I enjoyed the whole hosting thing until Smut Club. It’s not as though I throw lavish parties or anything. It’s only the Smut Club—which is named as a joke because all the husbands refer to the romance books we read as smut. Now everyone laughs at it and the name stuck.

  I’m aware it sounds like a sex club, but I’ll allow people to think whatever they want. Not only does it keep life interesting, but it also keeps me from having to answer questions.

  A group of us get together to talk about all the things we’ve read and like. Chari and I started the unofficial book club in the lunchroom at work, where we’d discuss the books we read and loved. Chari and I also talked about the ones we didn’t like, so that the other one wouldn’t waste their time on it.

  Then I met Charlie Allen at the bookstore where I volunteer. She was always looking for something to read and we started chatting about books we liked, and she became the third member of the group. We started alternating homes to each month, and it became something that I looked forward to quickly. I met Bri at the coffee shop close to work and we became fast friends. Once I told her about the book club, she was in like Flynn.

  Bri was timid when I first met her. I’ve enjoyed watching her break out of her shell the last couple of years. Most of the time she’s pretty quiet at meetings but she told me once she secretly loves the hot love scenes in the books we read. Since she’s not comfortable with dating, she said she lives vicariously through the couples we read about. I’ve tried to help her out, but I’m not even close to qualified since I’m driving the dating struggle bus already. She has such a wonderful personality, is stunningly gorgeous, but that shyness takes over when she meets someone new. Her excuse is she spends so much time at work, she doesn’t have time to even try.