Forgotten Truth (The Forgotten Series Book 1) (4 page)

All I can think about is
my
pulse rising. “So your friend was a client?”

He stops, and I can see a hint of a smile as he stares into my eyes. “Bryer, what are you getting at?”

I blush under the intense scrutiny and almost cave. Almost. Think quick!

“A craving.”

I pause when his eyebrows raise. I didn’t realize how that sounded.

“Old Town, St. Charles,” I go on.

“I’ve never been.”

“I’m going tomorrow. They’re having a one hundred year anniversary celebration. Families there have handed down their shops from generation to generation--specialty shops selling candy or antiques, and restaurants. It has a lot of charm and it looks over the river.” I ramble.

“My favorite old fashioned ice cream parlor is there. I used to go as a kid. It’s called Ned Drew’s. Do you want to join me?”

Honestly?
I scold myself,
Ice-cream?
What have I done?

Then he surprises me.

“What’s your favorite flavor?”

His question floors me. I have to think quick while his stare teases me.

“Illegally Creamy Cream Cheese.” Grinning, without an ounce of game.

There’s a twinkle in his eye. “Well, that
is
specific. Sounds quite sinful. It should be illegal.”

This playful banter shows the Nathan I want to get to know. Will we go on an ice cream date? Okay, coffee would’ve been more mature, but I panicked.

“And you want to satisfy this desire tomorrow, Bryer?” he whispers.

Freezing, I try to process these words he speaks so close to my ear. His heated breath brushing my neck is overpowering. I tell myself to breathe, but that musk scent he wears acts like a powerful pheromone, and it hits me hard.

“Tomorrow.” It isn’t a question.

As we approach the end of this intense hour, he lays me on the mat like he does every man or woman, old or young, to stretch me out. But this time, I’m sure there’s something else going on when he pushes his body into mine. We never break eye contact, and my reward is a full on smile that displays both his dimples. My heart skips a beat.

Before I walk out, he leans close to me. “I’ll get your number from your file. One o’ clock?”

I nod and leave with the biggest smile on my face. Mission accomplished.

As I’m walking to my car, my usual aches and pains are numbed by the adrenaline rushing through my body. I have to text Gen.

Bryer: Just left training. A date, u know who. I feel a creamy delicious treat coming tomorrow.

Tumbleina: OMG Nathan the sexual lollipop? Spill it, girlfriend.

Bryer: Ice cream date tomorrow

Tumbleina: Seriously? Are you twelve?

Bryer: I know. I panicked, but we’re going to Old Town, St. Charles. It will be fun.

Tumbleina: K but details after! Way 2 go girl.

EAGER ABOUT TODAY
, I’m up before my chimes go off. Feeling more excited than nervous, I want get to know the real Nathan. I’m sure he’ll call and arrange plans.

At eleven, I get a call, the caller ID says unknown. It’s him.

“Hello?” I’m a little more ruffled than I would like to be. I was going for smooth.

“Bryer? Nathan James. Did I catch you at a bad time?” He sounds like he just woke up, his voice all gravely..

“No, I’ve been up for some time now.”

“I’ll pick you up at one today.”

“One is fine. Do you know where I live?”

Right, he said he was going to get my file from the gym. “The file,” we both say at the same time. A small chuckle drifts across the line and I envision that one dimple.

“I’ll see you then, Bryer.” He draws out my name a bit, or at least I think he does.

“Great. Bye, Nathan”

That was awkward.

I log into my work email to catch up on what tomorrow will bring, but all looks good. No bad surprises. So I take a minute to Google Nathan James. A few things pop up.

The first link is to Eastside Barbell, the gym where he works, and there’s his Bio on the site. I notice he graduated from SLU with a business degree, impressive. I click on the next link and I find something about his father, Nathan James Sr. Sounds prestigious. He holds a powerful position in finance. I didn’t know Nathan was a junior, that’s cute.

I find a few pictures of him with women, but they’re all different females. There’s not a repeat in the bunch. I’m not surprised.

I call Gen to get her opinion on what to wear on my date with Nathan. “What does one wear to such an event?” I ask before she even says hello.

“You mean your twelve-year-old play-date with Nathan?”

“I’m serious. I need help.”

“Okay. Wear your skinny jeans to hug those curves, and a white sleeveless cotton shirt with a V-neck to emphasize the girls. Leave your hair down, since he’s only sees you in a sweaty ponytail.”

“I’m impressed,” I say.

“Very little makeup. It’s ice cream, Bryer.” I hear the smile in her voice.

“Thanks, Gen. What would I do without you?”

“You’ll always be my best friend. You know
way
too many of my secrets.”

We both laugh before hanging up.

I gaze in the mirror and feel self-assured with my look. I’ve never really let those negative loops play in my mind. I’m a female, so I have the normal female issues, but long ago I decided to see myself how others see me, in a positive light. Not through a distorted lens. So far this has worked for me.

A knock on the door makes me freeze, but this is not the time to panic.
Get your mojo on, girl, and go after what you want.
I walk over quickly and open it.

“Hi.” I’m speechless.

He leans on the door frame with one hand in his pocket. My eyes travel like a magnet to steel to his blue sweater it’s sexy as sin and a bit expensive it brings out those sparkling blue eyes. His hand tucked into those faded blue jeans, with one rip torn at the knee and the old leather belt, Doc Martens top it off. The combo is a striking understated fashion statement, and I’m surprised.

I slide my eyes back to his and find him grinning.

...Caught.

“You look beautiful too, Bryer.” As his eyes slowly roam from my blonde waves to my toes and back again. His fancy car keys dangle from his finger. “Ready?”

Oh, if he only knew
. I nod.

“I’m parked over here.” He points to a shiny black car, but all I notice is his hand on my back and the sparks flying.

His car is quite sporty, although I don’t know much about cars. It’s impressive--black and sleek.

“Sexy ride, Nathan.”

“You like?”

After he climbs in and presses the start button, I feel like I’m in the space shuttle.

“Aston Martin Vanquish.” He leans in and says the name like I would know what it means.

“I’m certainly looking forward to the ride.” I say, knowing full well what I just implied.

He turns those sexy blue eyes on me and gives me a double dimpled, panty drenching smile that could make me jump over the console.

“Take a breath and buckle up, Bryer,” he commands. “Nervous?”

“No, excited.”

“That’s the right answer.”

“Did you work today?” I ask.

“No, but I do tomorrow.”

We listen to quiet music in the car. It’s soothing, and I like that he’s playing something I actually know--Alicia Keys. I watch him and dream of running my hands through those brown, messy waves. I admire his chest hair peeking out from the top of his blue sweater. I know full well there’s a tattoo under that cashmere, calling my name.

I catch him glancing over. His gaze roams over my body again. It feels like there’s something brewing between us, I know it can’t be just me. Inhaling his scent makes me feel like I’m being hypnotized.

“Something catch your eye Nathan?” I won’t let his look go unnoticed.

“Actually, it has.” He leaves me speculating.

The car’s speed increases and I’m pressed against my seat. He takes the turns quickly and all my senses come alive. I can’t help but wonder if he likes it fast and hard in other areas of his life, because we’re flying.

“You’re going a little fast. Nathan.”

“I’m trying to behave Bryer, but I like it fast..” He eases the speed down a notch.

We pull into Ned Drew’s Ice Cream Parlor.

“Stay where you are.” He jogs over to open my door. Watching him, I wonder, is he hardcore gentleman or hardcore bad boy? I’m getting mixed messages.

“Take my hand,” I climb out as he gestures to help. “I thought we would start out at your favorite place.” We walk up to the old fashioned building built in the 1920s and wait behind an elderly couple. Nathan stands behind me and his chest gently touches my back.

“Vanilla?” he jokes.

“Not on your life.” I step up to the window and order my crazy flavor, hearing him chuckle behind me.

He leans in to place his order and his hands hold my shoulders steady while his chest touches me full on. “Coffee, black,” he tells the cashier.

I swing my head around so we’re face to face. His breath sweeps over my lips.

“I rarely sway from my nutritional habits. It’s my profession.”

Then why did he agreed to my ice cream date? Or is it a date? I’m about to see.

We find a concrete round table with matching benches and Nathan sits right next to me, slightly touching my body with his.

He sips his hot coffee, and I realize I’m going to have to lick my ice cream cone.

“I’m feeling very self-conscious.” I look at the cone then back at Nathan.

“Don’t be.” He flashes me a smile.

Before the first drip of ice cream falls, I catch it with my tongue and swirl the entire cone around while the bottom starts to melt. I look up and see Nathan’s eyes are on me. He clears his throat and inside I’m smiling.

“Tell me about your job. You must really love it.” My tongue flits out for a second twirl. This time I go slower while looking straight into his eyes.

“Yes, I do. Clayton and I started the gym about five years ago. I own it, but I consider Clayton my partner. I wanted to be more involved. That’s why I still have a client base.”

I listen while he watches every move I make. I continue to torture the ice cream cone like it’s one of his body parts. The one I’ve been dreaming about.

“The owner? That’s quite an accomplishment.” Wondering if I read that on his Bio, maybe he kept it out intentionally.

Noticing a trickle of ice cream sliding down my thumb, I reach for a napkin, but Nathan grabs my wrist and licks the ice cream away, then he slides his tongue all the way up my hand.

“Mmmm, taste good, Bryer.” Leaving me to wonder whether he’s talking about me or the ice-cream.

My eyes meet his, then my gaze goes back to those luscious lips that still have a bit of ice cream on them.

“Here. Allow me.” Bravely, I reach up and wipe the lucky ice cream from his lips then put my finger in my mouth.

“Fuck,” he whispers.

I think I’ve caught him off guard, so I take this opportunity to try and get to know more about him.

“And what about your family?” I say, just to slow my heartbeat and avoid spiraling out of control.

“It’s just my father and me. My dad runs a finance company. Actually he lives not too far from here.” He doesn’t give further details.

“What about your mom? No brothers or sisters?”

He stares downward, like he’s deciding how, or if, he wants to answer me. Then he looks up and speaks quietly, “I lost my mom years ago, and no siblings.”

I reach out to cover his hand and gently rub my thumb back and forth. I trash my cone, knowing it’s my turn to share.

“Nathan, I lost my mom too. She died of cancer seven years ago. I took care of her for the last few weeks of her life, so I understand the loss you’re feeling.” I could easily shed tears at this moment, even after all this time.

“My mom committed suicide, so I really don’t think it’s the same thing.” He reveals, and I see unresolved pain in his eyes.

I pull my hand away slowly, feeling he needs his space. The bitterness is so raw, so intense. I can feel his battle scars and see the hurt on his face.

He shakes his head and runs both hands through his hair. “Bryer, I didn’t mean to sound so cold.

I place my hand on his once again, forcing him to face me. He covers my hand with his. After several minutes, he looks up. “Bryer ... your mom ... It says a lot about what kind of person you are.” He rubs his thumb over my hand and I feel like he’s opening up a more sensitive side that most don’t see.

“Thank you.”

“What happened?”

There was a time when I wouldn’t be able to share this story, but time has healed some of the pain. “The family knew she was sick. She had test after test. Finally we got the call we had been dreading. It was cancer, and she only had three weeks to live.”

“I’m sorry.” He still holds my hand “So I took everything she had and moved her in with me. She died three weeks to the day,” I say softly.

“Tragic.” I can tell Nathan doesn’t know what else to say, no one ever does.

“The only regret I have is I wanted more time with her.”

“Let’s take a walk.” I know the city well, the Ice Cream Parlor is tucked away in the historical part of town. “Walking past these old stores is like going back to my childhood.” I say, feeling we just got beyond what had happened.

He smiles and looks my way. Nathan doesn’t try to hold my hand, but whenever someone approaches he guides me with his hand placed firmly on my back. I find that so sexy and kind of old school. I like it.

Silence hovers as we walk, but the emotional connection makes me feel closer to him.

“I live for moments you can’t put into words, yet you still try,” I say.

Although I’ve done most of the talking. We’ve touched on some very private things and very real feelings about our past today. We walk while our shoulders gently brush together. He runs his thumb over my hand and our fingers interlock.

This sweet, innocent behavior is doing more than just sweet things to my insides. I could feel the heat off this man. He smells like musk and the woods—clean and fresh. It’s intoxicating. He keeps glancing down at me and I wonder if he’s feeling the same way.