Page 6 of Ted's Temerity
* * *
Three days. I wait three whole days before I give in to the urge to contact Zephyr. Sitting in my office overlooking a good part of the city, I bring up his contact and press call. It rings for a little while, and I realize that he’s probably teaching, but by the time my brain kicks into gear with that thought, I’m being prompted to leave a voicemail message.
“Hi Zephyr, it’s Ted. From the wedding. Uh, Ash and Charlie’s wedding.” Once again, I can feel how awkward I’m being and want to strangle myself for it. I make a living by knowing exactly how best to wield and manipulate the English language. Contract law is my specialty, and I can schmooze potential clients with the best of them. But, apparently, put an attractive man whose kinks complement mine in front of me (or on the phone to me) and I lose all my carefully cultivated skills. “I’m just…touching base.”Ugh. “And wondering if you might like to go out with me some time?”Dear God, did my voice just go up half an octave?I clear my throat. “Give me a call back and we’ll chat.”And there I go, over-correcting. What the hell, Masters?“Talk soon!”
I force myself to hang up before I can humiliate myself further. Staring in horror at the phone in my hand, I ask, “What the ever-loving fuck was that? ‘Talk soon!’” I mock myself in a falsetto, then rub my other palm over my face, cringing at my own behavior. “You’re forty-seven. Get it together.”
Am I really so out of practice when it comes to wooing a potential partner? It’s not like I’ve been a monk these last three years, but they’ve been Grindr hookups or guys I’ve met at The Grove who were flagging for open play. I haven’t exactly had to work for another man’s attention recently and it shows in my lack of game.
Case in point? I just called it ‘game’.
Shoot. Me. Now.
The landline phone on my desk bleats with the tone set for the firm’s secretary, thankfully distracting me from my self-deprecating thoughts. I lift the receiver and say, “Yes, Sonya?”
She’s a consummate professional, but her voice is always ridiculously chipper. This conversation proves to be no exception. “Your eleven o’clock candidate is here. I’ve taken the initiative to have him wait in the boardroom for you and Louise.”
I glance at my watch, pleased to see that it’s only ten to eleven. A good sign for this candidate. Early, but not stupidly so. “Fantastic, Sonya, thanks.”
We’re still interviewing for Asher’s replacement. Technically, we’d hired someone when he first gave notice, but to say that didn’t work out is an understatement. Louise (our Office Manager) and I still grumble over being so thoroughly wrong about our assessment of the guy at the time, the both of us usually priding ourselves on our abilities to read people. Now, with the two of us questioning our judgment, we’re probably taking too much time interviewing for the entry-level role, but it’s definitely a case of ‘once bitten, twice shy’.
“Are you sure we can’t just bribe Ash to come back?” Louise jokes when we meet in the hallway outside the conference room. Her long brown hair is secured in an immaculate bun at the back of her head, and her hazel eyes twinkle with mirth as she asks the question. “Aren’t you BFFs with his hubby? Surely that gives you some pull.”
“It’s that same hubby who lured him away from us,” I remind her with a put-upon sigh. “Charlie clearly has zero respect for my professional needs.”
When I’d been invited to come and meet my best friend’s new boy, it had come as quite the surprise to see my most recent hire of the time at Charlie’s home. (And I know it had been even more shocking from Asher’s perspective; something we can laugh about now.) After that, it took a little while to convince Ash that our professional relationship would be fine, and that I was, first and foremost, Charlie’s friend and therefore his friend, too. The fact that he eventually came to think of me as Uncle Ted was both a relief and a privilege.
However, Louise isn’t aware of the lifestyle Ash, Charlie and I are involved in. Still, she knows that our friendship is closer than most, and she’s convinced that I should be able to use that to my advantage to entice her favorite employee back.
She huffs. “Well, what good is your friendship, then?”
“Aww, come on now, Lou,” I cajole, laughter coloring my tone, “we might find someone just as good as Ash.” I look down at the completed application and resume in my hand. “Beckett Peters,” I read the candidate’s name, “might be the one.”
With deep resignation, Louise nods. “Fine. But if we don’t find a suitable replacement soon? I’m kidnapping Ash back and you can’t warn Charlie.”
I reach for the door handle and wink. “Let’s hope it doesn’t have to come to that.”
* * *
My phone rings just as I slump through the door from my garage into my empty house. The place is ridiculously big for just me, but I bought it for a song a couple of years ago and have only recently finished the restorations and renovations, bringing it into modern times while keeping its stately feel. I fish my phone out of my pocket, fully prepared to let the call go through to voicemail, when I catch the name on the screen.
Zephyr.
I can’t answer it quickly enough, my thumb fumbling for the button.
Thankfully, I manage to catch it before he’s redirected to my voicemail, and I know my voice is strained when I answer, “Zephyr! Hello!”
There’s a moment of silence, which I interpret as hesitation. “Is this a bad time?”
“No!” I close my eyes and curse myself for the rushed, far-too-eager response. After taking a calming breath, I try again. “No. Sorry. I just got home and had to fumble for my phone.”
Great. Verbal diarrhea.
What is it about this man that pulls this from me?
His delicious chuckle floats down the line. “I’m picturing it now,” he teases.
Finally, something I can work with. Lowering my voice, I flirt back on my way through the large laundry, passing the equally huge kitchen and into the open plan living/dining space beyond, “Well, I do like that you’re picturing me.”
