He eyes me again, then crosses his arms. “Something’s different with this chick, man. It’s written all over your face. What, did you break one of your precious rules?”
I grit my teeth, instantly furious with how well Case knows me.
Asshole.
“Nothing happened. Now, if you’re done grilling me, I have work to do.” Pushing my chair back, I stand to leave.
Case smirks at me and cocks his head to the side. “All right, whatever you say. Just don’t ever tell me I’m not the kind of boss who’s here to listen.”
I roll my eyes and march toward the living room.
I know he’s just trying to help, but Case is the last person I want to talk to about all this. For as much as he likes to work me to the bone—pun intended—he’s always trying to get me to loosen up a little bit, have more fun on the job. Too bad I’m learning really quickly just how much trouble a little fun can get you.
I check the time. Four thirty. Time for me to pick up my Sunday regular.
Every Sunday I take Esther, my oldest client, to dinner at her country club. It’s not sexual, by any means—not that I’m here to judge anyone for their age preferences. I just pretend to be her charming and successful grandson to impress her snooty old friends. Probably the easiest money I make in this job, especially since I see these rich pricks enough to know just what to say to get Esther in good with them, and make them jealous because none of their grandchildren give them the time of day.
Today I’m dressed in a cream-colored linen suit and a pale gingham checked button-down. I look every bit like a spoiled, wealthy heir. Basically, I fit right in.
When I enter the dining room, Esther is already there, dressed in a baby-blue sundress, reaching her aged-spotted hands toward me as a smile overtakes her mouth.
“There’s my handsome grandson,” she says, a little more loudly than necessary.
I chuckle and return her warm embrace. “Good to see you. How was your week, Gram?”
She winks at me, one heavy-lidded blue eye dancing with knowing mischief. “Just peachy.”
“Excellent. Now, are you ready for dinner?”
I offer her my arm and we stroll into the dining room. She waves to a few of her friends from her book club as we head to our usual table.
Once we’re seated, a tuxedo-clad server delivers two goblets of ice-cold water and a basket of warm bread. Esther doesn’t drink, and so neither do I when I’m with her. We each order the steak-and-lobster special before the server scurries away. Sometimes, I really love the perks of this job.
Most days, we keep dinner conversations light. The weather, the latest drama in her bridge group, that kind of stuff. For as annoying as I find the country club crowd, I’ve grown to like Esther. She’s a little less judgmental than the rest of them, even if she buys into some of their elitist bullshit.
Which is why I’m really not prepared when she asks me about my love life.
“So, Nicky, are you dating anyone?”
Just my fucking luck.
I plaster a fake smile on my face while I decide how to answer. Normally, I don’t divulge anything personal to my clients, but Esther’s different. I know she’s only asking because she genuinely cares, but after Case’s questioning earlier, I’m not up for another conversation about Elle.
Still, Esther is someone I really trust, despite being a client, so I decide to be honest with her.
“Not right now.”
“You’re almost thirty. You’re going to want to settle down soon, aren’t you?”
My face falls at the mention of my age. Way to hit a man right where it hurts.
“First, I’m not almost thirty. I’m only twenty-eight.”
She purses her lips. “Close enough. When I was your age, I’d been married for six years and had three children already.”
I take a sip of my water, stalling for time. “Of course I want to settle down. Eventually. But it’s difficult for someone like me to date. Who would want a boyfriend who entertains other women for a living?”
Esther smiles, reaching across the table to pat my hand. “You’re a good boy, Nicky. I knew it from the first time we met. Why do you think I keep scheduling these dinners?”
I smile at her, but I don’t take her words to heart. Not really. Part of me is appreciative of her support, but a larger part of me knows she’s just being nice.
“It’s easy to be polite and charming when you’re getting paid to do it.”
She squeezes my hand, her soft, wrinkled fingers looping around my palm. “Don’t lose faith. The right girl is out there. There’s someone for you just around the corner. I know it.”
I smile and nod, squeezing her hand back before letting go.
Esther means well, but she must know I’m right—what girl in her right mind would want to get involved with me? Even though I’m a male escort, I still want to find love someday.
But that’s not a topic I want to think about right now. So I turn the tables on Esther and ask how her latest crochet project is coming along. She smiles, and thankfully lets the topic drop.
When I get home later that night, Esther’s words are still ringing in my head. I always thought the idea of soul mates was stupid, that there was no way there was really someone out there for everyone. That people who bought into that shit were chumps.
But after everything that’s happened, meeting Elle and having my whole world shaken to its core?
I don’t know what to think anymore.
Chapter Nine
Elle
I glance at my phone, checking for any texts. Nothing. I let out a huff and turn back to my laptop.
I’m trying to focus on work, and it’s not going very well. The lawyer I work for just landed a big client and has assigned me a ton of research for the case. Not that I’m complaining; I’m happy for anything that can distract me from the total mortification I’ve been wallowing in after this weekend.
Standing up from my desk, I stretch, hoping that a quick break will help me refocus on the piles of documents in front of me.
My head still feels fuzzy from this weekend. I can’t believe what was supposed to be my carefree, casual hookup ended with me throwing up for an hour. I don’t know what got into me; I can’t even remember the last time I drank that much. I blame it on my attraction to Nic. I got caught up in the rush of being with him, and just lost control of myself.
God, I wonder what Nic must think about me.
We’re way too old to be getting that sloppy. He probably thinks I’m a hot mess and never wants to see me again. I haven’t heard from him since that night, and I was too ashamed to reach out to him yesterday. I know I need to apologize if I want any chance of things being okay between us, so I decide to send him a text.
Biting my lip, I pull out my phone.
Are you free to meet for coffee this week?
After pressing SEND, I squeeze my eyes closed, then put the phone facedown. I need to focus on work, and staring at my phone won’t make him respond any faster.
After a few minutes, I can’t resist anymore and check my messages. To my surprise, Nic has already responded.
I pull up the text, preparing myself for rejection.
Sure, what day are you free?
I let out a sigh of relief. After exchanging a few texts, we decide to meet Thursday afternoon since my boss will be out of the office for the day, and I want to keep this meeting casual, not like a date. I’m already feeling a huge weight lift off of me.