Promises

CHAPTER 10

HE BEGAN to stop by the shop at closing time again, and we had dinner together two or three times a week. Every time, I asked him if it was causing trouble for him at work. At first he would just shrug, but by the third week, the question was making him blush. That confused me.

“I don’t understand. Does it cause problems for you or not?”

“Well, it did,” he said hesitantly. “But I’ve made some changes over the past few weeks that have helped.” He wasn’t looking at me when he said it.

“‘Changes’? Like what?”

“I actually, umm….” He was fidgeting with the label on his beer bottle again. “I started seeing Cherie.”

“What?”

He glanced up at me and gave me the pseudo-smile. “You heard me.”

“You’re dating Cherie?”

“No. Not dating.”

“But you just said—”

“What I said was I started seeing her. Not the same thing.” He said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. I was still confused, and my face must have shown it, because he rolled his eyes at me and said, “Let’s just say we have an arrangement. Like you and your friend, Cole.”

“Ahh. I see.” Now I was having a hard time keeping a straight face. “Occasionally mutually convenient?”

He shrugged. “Well, convenient for me, at any rate.”

“I thought you valued your independence?”

“I do. But I’m not exactly a fan of celibacy either.”

“Who is?”

He winked at me. “Exactly.”

“Why her? I mean, not to be a jerk, but she’s got, well….”

“A reputation?” He was back to picking at the label on the bottle.

“Right.” I was relieved that it wasn’t news to him.

He shrugged. “I wear a raincoat.”

That actually made me blush. “Well, that’s good, but that’s not what I meant.”

“She seemed like the best bet for a ‘no strings’ type of relationship. I have absolutely no interest in anything more serious.”

“And she’s actually in agreement with that?” I certainly couldn’t claim to be an expert on women, but I had always suspected that “no strings attached” was a lot harder for them than for men.

“Look”—and I could tell he was getting a little annoyed that he had to explain it to me—“I’m not a total asshole. I have been completely honest with her. She knows that we’re not dating. There will be no romantic moonlight strolls or anniversary dinners. I’m not meeting her parents, or buying her flowers, or moving in with her, or even meeting her friends. We fuck. That’s it.”

“She’s actually okay with that?”

“She says that she is.” He shrugged again. “I’m sure she thinks that I will change my mind over time. I won’t, and I’ve told her that I won’t. It’s not my fault if she chooses not to believe me.” I couldn’t help but think that Cherie might be right. I figured after a few weeks, he wouldn’t object so much to “dating.” I was pretty sure the way to a man’s heart was actually a little lower than the stomach. “She has requested only that I be ‘faithful,’ and not date or sleep with any other women while we’re seeing one another.”

“And that’s acceptable to you?”

“Absolutely. The whole point is to keep the complications to a bare minimum, and adding another woman to the mix would definitely qualify as a ‘complication’.”

“Yes, I suppose it would.”

“Plus, the arrangement has other benefits.” He had the pseudo-smile again.

“Such as?”

He actually almost smiled over at me now. “First, the guys at work are no longer trying to set me up. And, more importantly, I am now free to hang out with you as much as I like without having to put up with annoying accusations.”

“So let me get this straight: you’re willing to have sex, no strings attached, with a hot bimbo, just so you can hang out with me more?”

His green-in-grey eyes were sparkling, crinkling at the corners like he was about to laugh. “It is quite a sacrifice on my part, I admit. Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

“Wow.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “You are a manipulative bastard.”

“I am. I can’t deny that.” He said it lightly but then suddenly became serious. “Are you thoroughly disgusted?”

“By the idea of you fucking Cherie? A little. By the fact that you’re a manipulative bastard? Not so much. She’s a big girl, and if you really are being honest with her—”

“I am.”

“Then it’s just a matter of consenting adults.”

“Exactly.” He seemed relieved to have that out of the way. “So, what about your friend Cole? How often do you get to see him?”

“He’s only here during prime ski season, but I usually see him two or three times between December and the first of April.”

“So never between April and December?”

“Right.”

“Wow,” he said sympathetically, “that’s a hell of a dry season.”

“Tell me about it.”

Our food came then and put an end to that depressing topic.

“Are you working next weekend?” he asked as I started to eat.

“Yeah.”

“Can you get it off?”

Getting the weekend off would actually be easy. Since it was summer vacation, Ringo was able to work full-time. Plus, Lizzy was willing to take more hours than usual, because we both knew that once the baby came in the fall, the tables would be turned.

“Sure. What’s up?”

“I’ll be working overtime on July third and fourth, but then I have a three-day weekend after that, starting Friday. I thought we could go camping. I bought a bike last week, too, so we could do some riding.”

I was elated. I always loved spending time in the mountains, but usually I had to go alone. Sometimes Brian and Lizzy would go with me, but between Brian’s job and the shop, it was hard for us all to get away together. The idea of having company, especially Matt’s company, was exhilarating. “That sounds great!”

“Should I pick you up?”

“Yeah. Come by early on Friday. We can get breakfast first, then get our gear together, and head up.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Are you planning on inviting Cherie?”

He looked up at me, horrified. “Why would I want to ruin a perfectly good weekend?”