Page 28 of Taking A Chance

The tears are unstoppable, as they spill down my cheeks and she pats my knee with her free hand to comfort me, like she is the mother and I’m the grazed kneed kid.

“I… I… gues… sss, I’ve got some thinking to do,” I stutter between sobs. “Is the bar opening yet?”

First day back at work and the jet lag is kicking my arse.

Yesterday, on our return, as Kat and I have apartments in the same building, we said our goodbyes in the lift, before I stepped out at my floor. When I walked into my place, I was hit with the familiar smell of my vanilla plug-in air-freshener, and a slight chill in the air from the rooms being unoccupied for over a week. For the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel that good to be home.

So, I was glad that I was straight back to work, simply to keep my mind occupied and off the subject of Cade.

I had texted him to say that I was home safe, but shattered and needed to get some sleep, as I was due back to work the next day. His reply was short and curt. However, he said that he would video call tonight at 7.30 UK time.

I’ve made my decision. At least I think I have. The arguments for and against that are going on in my head make it difficult to think rationally. Has Cade already decided that this is more trouble than it’s worth?

I’m more trouble than its worth?

But if that’s the case, wouldn’t he have sent a text? No, I don’t think Cade would do that, he’d look someone in the face if he had something to tell them.

Oh, video call.

It doesn’t matter, anyway. I’m calling it off. Kat’s right. Better to get out now before I’m in too deep. I hope I get lucky, and he makes it easy for me by being the one who does the dumping.

At 7.15 I’m sat on my sofa, iPhone in hand, waiting for the call. I’ve practiced my little speech for what seems like a zillion times, while showering and dressing in some comfy lounge clothes. I don’t want to look like shit, but I don’t want to look like I’ve made too much of an effort, either. My reasons for putting a stop to this ‘relationship’ sounds pathetic, the more I repeat it, stumbling over my words every time. It doesn’t sound very believable either.

I jump when my phone comes to life, vibrating and playing one of the God-awful preloaded tunes that has the appropriate sound of doom.

I quickly smooth down my hair, paint on a fake smile, and answer. The screen lights up and the image I see has me gasping and laughing at the same time.

Cade dressed in nothing but a Stetson hat perched on his head, is not what I expected to see. The camera is strategically placed so I can see the expanse of his upper toned body and his glorious V, but not the goods down below. He is completely naked unless his pants are pushed down and resting around his ankles.

“Well, howdy there, little darling.” His impression of a cowboy is more like Woody from Toy Story than Kevin Costner.

“Are you in your office?” I giggle, taking in the large window in the background that depicts the skyline of a multitude of tall office buildings.

“Don’t worry, most of the staff are out or having lunch in the canteen. The door’s locked and no one can see me.”

“What about the window cleaner?” I point to somewhere behind him with the best possible serious face I can come up with.

He twists around so fast that his chair tips backwards, almost going over. If it wasn’t for the speed of Cade rectifying it, I’m sure I would have got a fabulous look at his penis.

“Just kidding,” I laugh.

“Bad girl,” he scowls, wagging a finger at me. “For that I think I might have to make you do a forfeit.”

“Oh really? And what exactly do you suggest my penance should be?” I reply. I’m nervous and excited all at the same time as to where this is going, but I know when it comes to Cade, my resilience is wafer thin.

“However, much as I enjoy seeing your beautiful face, I want to see more.”

Wow, those few words in that deep American accent, from those slightly pouty lips, have my heart racing and thighs clenching. Oh, that mouth. That mouth that spent so much time on various parts of my body.

Jesus, I think I’m going straight to hell. My thoughts are dirty and sinful.

I’m lost and I don’t think I want redemption.

“Put the camera further away so I can see all of you.”

“Erm! I don’t know…”

“Do as I ask, Petra.” His tone is firm, not harsh, but it’s enough to have me up on my feet to grab a couple of books from my bookcase so I can prop my phone up on the coffee table in front of me.