Page 26 of Go Find Less

“I live down the street. Couldn’t sleep.” I shrug, taking a sip of my tea and leaning over on the bench, watching Bex sidle up to a group of dogs. I spot, almost immediately, the Doberman from Fitz’s picture.

“Everything alright?” I turn my head to look at him, and his expression is hard to read. Not surprising. But it looks like a flash of concern crosses his eyes.

“Too much going on up here.” I tap the side of my head with one finger. “We have a big deadline coming up this week and I’m starting to feel the pressure a little bit.”

“Where do you work again?”

“AllHearts,” I respond.

“And you design…” he trails off, and I swear his neck flushes as he brings his drink toward his face.

“Apparel,” I answer, and his eyebrows lift. “Which is a fancy word for lingerie.”

“That’s what I thought I heard at our first meeting, but I couldn’t be sure.” He gives me an appraising look. “Big deadline in the lingerie business?” Before I can react the way I want to - mildly affronted - he course corrects. “Shit, sorry, that sounded dismissive.” He pauses, and I want to laugh at the way he’s stumbling on his words. “It’s hard to find information on you.”

“You mean aside from my dirty laundry splattered all over the internet?” His mouth lifts at one side, and his shoulders shake in a small laugh.

“AllHearts,” he repeats. His hand finds the back of his neck. “That would explain the samples.”

“Samples?” And then, my mind flashes back to that day in the office - my mortification when I realized I’d pulled out the bullet vibrator our toy department gave out at our last staff retreat. AllHearts was one of the leading adult companies in the world, and in the business of pleasure, we pretty regularly had items from different departments available for us to take. Overstock. Discontinued products. Samples.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m pretty confident in my sexuality - after years of pent up frustration and trying to regain some semblance of decency after being publicly humiliated by Andy, I’d finally resigned myself to owning it. Owning my curves. Owning who I am.

That’s how Mickey and I met - a dating app hookup that turned into much, much more. And at first, he seemed invigorated by my confidence. Turned on, even. I was the life of the parties he brought me to, the bringer of the hot, single friends, which is how Alex and Nolan met. Even Brett, who, at that point, was getting ready to marry my sister, vouched for the affection Mickey felt for me - Brett and Nolan played college ball together, and long before that, Mickey and Nolan owned the field in Paulsville. Brett told me Mickey was looking for someone that could hold her own, and I was just that. Until I wasn’t.

Unable to stop myself, I burst out laughing at Fitz’s clear embarrassment.

“Right, samples.” I watch Bex separate from the group, looking around, and when she spots me, she runs at top speed to the bench, her little black legs taking her as fast as they can. She practically barrels into my lap, and I laugh again, letting her nuzzle into my chest. “This little devil ate my last bullet, didn’t we?” I pet her face and watch out of the corner of my eye as Fitz’s own eyes widen slightly. “Fitz,” I start, saving him, “This is Bex. Bex,” I turn to the man next to me, and present him with the dog in my arms, “Give Fitz some snugs.”

“Oh,” he says, still seemingly shocked, but he takes her from my outstretched arms, holding her a foot away from his face. She gives him a few sniffs before launching herself at him. And like I’ve shattered whatever glass wall was up, he lets out a loud laugh, low and gravely, and something inside me melts.

I take a sip of my tea, watching them as Bex tries to lick every square inch of exposed skin. That laugh made me want to do the same.

Stop it. Jesus Christ.Licking him?A month ago he was just a name on my list of resentments, long since tucked away in the stepwork I’d completed in my first year of sobriety. But now,now, sitting next to him, that list is nearly forgotten.

Still watching Bex and Fitz, I see the Doberman notice us all together, and he bounds toward us, coming to a screeching halt in front of the bench, nearly knocking into our legs.

“Roscoe,” Fitz chastises, trying to pry Bex away from his chest, which probably smells like the dog in front of us. Roscoe looks at the two of them, heartbreak in his eyes, and I make a small cry.

“Oh, baby.” I lean forward, scratching the top of his head, and his big, brown eyes immediately go molten. “Is your mean daddy ignoring you for a beautiful girl?” I nod my head toward Bex.

“Two,” Fitz says offhandedly, and he finally wrangles Bex down to the ground, where she makes a frustrated noise before turning her attention to Roscoe. I look at Fitz, confused.

“Two what?”

“Two beautiful girls.” He says it with a completely straight face, draining what looks like the last of his coffee. It’s good, because while he’s leaning back it gives me a chance to completely fall apart. “Was that too forward?”

“Are you asking for permission to hit on me?” I ask, mostly to clarify for my own sake. Fitz glances at me out of the corner of his eyes, which are still mostly trained on the dogs in front of us. They sniff at each other.

“Maybe.”

I pause. My next words could open or shut a floodgate. Betray what I’m feeling or hide it far, far away under a mountain of past regrets and preconceived notions. Let me open myself up to something more than a bad date or one night stand for the first time in years.

“Permission granted.”

Chapter 9

Fitz

---