The American Lover Read online

  “You know this is all coming from a good place, Faith. You’ve been shutting yourself off and putting up barriers because you’ve been sad for so long, but you must know that it’s not what Drew would have wanted for you. We only want to help you move forward to find some happiness again, as I know for certain that he would.” Harriet reached over and squeezed my hand across the table.

  She and Drew had always got on really well – they were both messy, untidy and had endlessly poked fun at what they termed my obsessive tidiness.

  Drew had looked after her car, and fixed things in her flat for her, as she hadn’t a clue about anything practical like that. And in return, Harry had wangled things to get us upgraded when we’d flown out to New York for our anniversary, the year before the accident.

  “And Megan thinks the solution for lifelong happiness is a pair of skinny jeans apparently?” I joked, to cover up the tears that threatened, as they always did whenever I let myself think about Drew.

  “Or maybe being brave enough to take an American lover? Just think about it, Faith. That’s all I'm saying. This Caleb must really be a gorgeous hunk for you to have noticed him. So now he’s appeared in your life for a very limited time, maybe you just need the courage to grab this opportunity with both hands.”

  ***

  “So how was the golf club meal last night?” I asked Caleb, as we pulled some figures together on a spreadsheet.

  Much to my surprise, I was actually enjoying working with him, because it was a pleasure working with someone capable of communicating what he required so effectively. No prevaricating or messing around, Caleb’s efficient way of working made my task so much easier. Also, his relaxed manner put me at my ease, making him very easy to talk to, which I hadn't expected from someone of his seniority. And considering he was an American, I certainly hadn't expected us to share a very similar sense of humour, but we often ended up laughing together. Overall, I'd come to the conclusion that he really wasn’t such a bad bloke.

  He grimaced in response to my question about his evening out.

  “Oh dear, that bad?” I sympathised.

  He was looking very male model-ish this morning in his dark grey suit, white shirt and dark grey tie. His black glossy hair was slightly mussed up, as if he’d just combed it through and left it to dry after his shower, and although clean shaven, he already had a dark shadow. It was obvious he really didn’t have to try very hard to look good.

  “Shockingly bad, actually. I think I would’ve preferred a threesome with your Harry and Stan, given the choice,” he joked. “So how did your evening turn out?”

  “Good, apart from being told all my clothes are total shit.” I shook my head as I rolled my eyes. “Well, by Harry anyway. Stan was pretty tactful and kept his thoughts to himself. Although come to think of it, he has been known to pee in my wardrobe, so maybe that’s his subtle way of agreeing with Harry.”

  As Caleb threw his head back and laughed, I noticed Maria glancing over at us curiously. She’d been trying her level best to get to know Caleb - flashing her winning smile at him when she’d come and joined us at lunch, popping into the glass bowl to ask if we wanted any coffee, that kind of thing, but he’d politely sidestepped all her attempts, much to my surprise, because I’d have thought she was just his type.

  “We had all sorts of cats and dogs on the farm when I was growing up, but Mom never allowed any of them in the bedrooms. She’d have had a fit if she’d found an unexpected package in any of the closets,” he told me.

  “We never used to allow Stan in our bedroom, so I would’ve totally agreed with your mum in the past. But I let him sleep on my bed now because he’s good company,” I confessed.

  “Lucky Stan,” Caleb murmured, as he shuffled some papers.

  Was that almost a flirty comment? I tried not to think of Harry’s suggestion about taking an American lover. No, I couldn’t possibly even bring the subject up I decided, feeling hot under the collar.

  Or could I? Maybe I should just woman up, because how much longer could I put off rejoining the real world? I didn't want to be the weird, sad woman that people avoided for the rest of my life, did I?

  And sex. I used to really enjoy sex, so was I really prepared to forgo that pleasure? Maybe having mindless sex was exactly what I needed to distract myself from constantly living in the past.

  And however I went about things, it was always going to be awkward the first time, so maybe Harry was right. Caleb was divorced, and had made it very plain he was not interested in any kind of committed relationship. Obviously a guy like him must have had loads of one night stands, so he’d be familiar with how these things were done. I’d worked closely with him all week, and even though he wasn’t my type, I’d found nothing about him a turn off, and the fact that he was nothing like Drew was a good thing, right? No comparisons, no reminders, no chance of getting emotionally involved.

  But would he even be interested in having sex with me? Weren’t most men happy to have sex if it was offered by someone who, at least, wasn’t totally repulsive? I wasn’t that bad was I?

  But how on earth could I bring the subject up, and what the hell would I say?

  ‘Hey, Caleb. So, I just thought I’d ask, would you be up for giving me a quick seeing to?’

  Or maybe:

  ‘Hey, Caleb, quick question for you. Any chance you’d fancy shagging me?’

  No, I just couldn’t.

  Or could I?

  I dithered all day, wondering if I could possibly pluck up the courage to proposition Caleb before it was too late.

  And then he kind of made up my mind for me.

  Chapter 4 - Caleb

  “How about you let me buy you a drink, by way of saying thanks for all your hard work, before you go home tonight?”

  Faith and I had gotten through an enormous amount of work by Thursday evening, and had pretty much completed things, with just a few loose ends to finish off on the final day. We’d methodically produced all the data required by the IRS, a task made much easier by the fact that we’d seemed to effortlessly fall into working together very efficiently. She was a total pleasure to collaborate with, so although I couldn’t risk letting anything slip to her about the impending closure of the London office, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to find out a bit more about her, what her future career plans were, to see if I couldn’t help cushion the impact that being made redundant would obviously have on her, seeing as she didn't have a husband or partner to support her.

  Nothing to do with feeling guilty, of course. I just didn't like the idea of someone of her obvious ability going to waste.

  “I don’t think…” Faith started to decline my offer, then hesitated, and stared at me, as if trying to come to some sort of a decision.

  “You’re not going to tell me this Stan of yours is the jealous type?” I quipped as I waggled an eyebrow.

  “Stan spreads his affections around, so he has no grounds to complain,” she laughed about her cat.

  “Just one drink. I think you at least owe me that, after leaving me to fend for myself last night with Steve and John. And may I remind you that you’re supposed to be keeping this head office Yank happy?” I put on my best pleading face.

  “I suppose it wouldn’t do to have you complaining about how unfriendly us Brits are,” she smiled.

  “My hotel appears to have a pretty decent bar, and you said it’s on your way home, so how does that work for you? I’d sure appreciate some decent company, with no work related talk for a change. Please?”

  The previous evening with Steve and John at the golf club had been dire. Somehow, they’d picked up some rumors about head office making redundancies in London. Naturally, they’d been worried about their jobs, so they’d been grilling me to see what they could find out, which had been awkward to say the least. That, along with the fact that I don't play golf and had little interest in most of the conversation around me, meant I’d made my excuses and left as early as I could, thinking I’d done my
fair share of socializing with the Brits.

  So on Thursday, I could easily have justified having the evening to myself. I could have made use of the hotel gym. I could have headed out to a club or bar and sought out some female company.

  But for some reason, I felt drawn to Faith.

  I don't know what it was about her, but she seemed to have gotten under my skin. As far as looks went, she wasn't immediately striking, and in all honesty, I probably wouldn’t have noticed her, or even given her a second glance under normal circumstances, and yet while we were working together, I kept finding myself stealing glances at her, because she had this subtle, understated kind of beauty about her.

  WYSIWYG. A what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of girl. Natural and unspoilt.

  Although I knew it would be far simpler for me not to get involved in any way, I didn't seem able to prevent myself from wanting to look out for her. Undoubtedly, part of why we’d hit it off so well was because we had a similar sense of humor, along with a propensity for saying what we thought. We’d made a good team working together, both good with numbers, our brains wired in the same way.

  But I think what really drew me to her was the underlying vulnerability that she worked so hard to cover up. I felt this strange affinity with her, a desire to protect her, shield her, wrap her up and make her feel better. I could see that she was struggling to claw her way out of the pit of despair she’d fallen into after her husband had been killed. Maybe I was someone who could throw her a lifeline to help drag her out. I thought I’d had a tough ride, but she made me realize it’d been a walk in the park compared to what she’d been through. She deserved to feel happy and start enjoying life again, but I’d been horrified when I’d overheard Faith apparently arranging a hook up with a couple of guys for what sounded like some kind of a kinky sex session.

  No one knew better than me that folks sometimes do the weirdest, out of character things, to help them forget their pain for just a while. Having never once strayed, having been completely faithful to my wife the entire time we’d been married, once the divorce came through, I set myself the goal of fucking a different woman every day for a month, just because I could. I didn’t actually achieve it, and it didn’t really make me feel any better, but I guess you could say it was an interesting experience.

  Thankfully with Faith it hadn't been what it seemed, because when I tried to warn her not to let anyone take advantage of her, she’d blurted out that she hadn't had sex with anyone since her husband had died. It made me realize that it really didn't sit well with me to think of someone using her, trampling all over her feelings, ending up with her being in an even worse place, just as she was beginning to recover and find her feet.

  Maybe all this explained why I was so intent on persuading her to come and have a drink with me after work, and see if I couldn’t get her to open up to me.

  I can be very persuasive when I choose to be, and I was pleased to discover I hadn't lost my touch when I got Faith to agree.

  ***

  We found a quiet table in the corner of the hotel bar, where I nursed a cold Bud, while Faith sipped just a plain soda, as she’d be driving home after.

  “So, do you have any brothers or sisters?” I inquired, wondering what kind of a support network she had. My family had always been there for me, and they’d really helped me get through my divorce. Turned out none of them had ever really liked Cassie, but they’d all made an effort to get along with her for my sake. Another thing I hadn’t really picked up on at the time. I seemed to have been walking around with my eyes closed a hell of a lot of the time.

  “Two sisters. Both older. No brothers. I think Mum and Dad gave up on the idea of having a boy after producing three daughters, thinking that was more than enough for them to contend with,” she smiled. So it seemed she had some close family. Good.

  “Yeah, it was the same for my parents. Much as Mom would’ve loved a daughter, having three boys under the age of five kept her pretty busy.”

  “Where are you in the pecking order?”

  “Eldest. Lucas is my youngest brother, Seth’s the middle one. Lucas stayed on the farm to work with Dad, while Seth and I went our own ways, though we both go back and help out from time to time.”

  “What made you decide to leave?”

  “Much as I loved the farm, I always felt like a square peg in a round hole there. I was bright, did well at school, found math easy, so cut a long story short, I eventually ended up in banking. My brother Lucas, on the other hand, he really hated school, couldn’t wait to leave. And since he loved working the land, it was only natural he’d stay on the farm. Seth, well, he used to drive Mom nuts, getting himself covered in grease, always tinkering around with some old set of wheels, so he was always gonna end up a grease monkey, under the hood of an auto. Since he left college and set up Mackenzie’s Autos, he’s never looked back.”

  I was surprised how at ease I felt with Faith, how much I was opening up to her, when these days I hardly ever talked to anyone about anything personal, not wanting to get involved in any way.

  “Your parents must be very proud of you all.”

  “I guess. So how’d you end up in banking?”

  “Similar to you I suppose, as I was always good with figures. My dad’s a maths teacher, so that’s where I get that from, whereas Mum’s an English teacher, as are both my sisters. They’re a very bossy lot, seeing as they’re used to ordering a class of pupils around.”

  “You weren’t tempted to be a teacher as well? Follow in the family tradition?”

  “I did consider it, but in the end decided I preferred working with facts and figures rather than people. Maybe that was because I found it quite hard to make friends, as I was always this odd maths geek. I even won a maths scholarship, to a posh all-girls grammar school, which in hindsight was the worst thing that could have happened. My parents were thrilled, because they thought it would guarantee me a good education, but to be honest, I think I’d have been far better off at the local state comprehensive with my sisters.”

  “Why?”

  “Girls can be such nasty bitches, especially when there aren't any boys to balance things out a little. There was this gang of girls at school that gave me a hard time just because I was a bit different. I was always a tom boy, small, quiet, never one of the cool gang. Bullies have a knack of sensing out weaknesses and then working on them, so I had a pretty horrid time, until I met Drew at a party when I was sixteen.”

  “How did he help? If you don't mind talking about him, that is?” I asked.

  “No, it’s okay, in fact it actually feels good to talk things through with someone who didn't know him and so has no preconceptions,” she smiled shyly.

  “Then fire away.” I sat back ready to listen.

  “Well, Drew was good looking in a tall, rangy sort of way, and he was a bit of a local bad boy - he rode a motorbike, got into fights, had a tattoo and an earring - that kind of thing. Anyhow, I'd only been invited along to this party at the last minute to make up numbers as they were short of girls. Drew was there with some of his mates, and the bitchy girls were all over him like a rash. But the weird thing was, the minute our eyes met, he made a bee line for me, even though I was only wearing jeans and a plain T shirt, not a bum cheek skimming skirt or low cut top like the other girls. Apparently, as far as Drew was concerned, from then on I was it for him, the only girl he was interested in. I’ve never understood why, but that was how it was. And funnily enough, when he started turning up at school to pick me up on his motorbike, the gang of bitchy girls suddenly decided I was cool, and wanted to be friends.”

  “Funny that,” I murmured.

  “Despite my parents’ initial misgivings about Drew, they came around once they realized that despite his bad boy appearance, he was actually a straightforward, decent, honest bloke. They could see that he made me feel much more confident about myself, because he liked me just the way I was. You see, he never worried about impressing people, never gave
a stuff what anyone else thought. And when you’re with someone like that, someone who loves you for who you are, doesn't want to change you, who’s always on your side no matter what, it does wonders for your self esteem. Drew loved me, Drew believed in me, and that was all that was important. Everyone else could just go to hell.”

  “Sounds wonderful.”

  “Don't get me wrong. Drew was far from perfect, and it wasn’t all plain sailing between us. He had a temper at times, and I could be pretty moody, so inevitably we argued and had rows. He was messy, untidy, had dreadful taste in music, and no dress sense whatsoever. He thought I was compulsively tidy and obsessively organized. And he was not in the least bit romantic. He was a very practical and down to earth kind of guy, so he never really got the point of romantic gestures like flowers or cards.” Faith rolled her eyes.

  “That sounds familiar,” I chuckled. “My ex-wife complained I never made a big enough deal about things like Valentine’s Day, because I saw them as just some cynical commercial exercise.”

  “That’s what Drew used to say,” she smiled back. “But they were minor issues really. Bottom line was, we balanced each other out. He made me feel secure and special. And I could defuse his temper in a way no one else could. He could easily have gone off the rails, he could have got into trouble, but I calmed him down, kept him on the straight and narrow, which his mum and dad were very grateful about. I got on really well with them - Drew was an only child, and they always said I was the daughter they never had, and that I was a good influence on their son. You see, when he started to lose his temper, I’d just give him a look and laugh at him, and then he couldn’t help himself, he’d end up laughing as well. He never used to lose his temper with me, just with things, like swearing and cursing at a car he was working on - I used to think he probably invented new swear words.”

  “Sounds just like my younger brother Seth,” I chuckled.