One Last Promise (A Bedford Falls Novel Book 2) Read online

  Given the right circumstances, she might consider that uncertainty kind of cute. But this man seemed a bit too nervous; he tried so hard to make a good first impression that it resulted in the opposite effect – one that didn’t quite hit the mark. Still, she found his uneasiness somewhat refreshing; she’d grown tired of the same old cheesy pick-up lines, the incessant gawking, and the cockiness without a brain to match their brawn. So she was content meeting a man with some semblance of brain activity. It gave her an opportunity to let her guard down. And that’s what she wanted in the dating world: to be herself and to find someone who accepted her, flaws and all.

  That he could look so detached one moment and quite endearing the next intrigued Kelsey enough to want to learn more about this man. “Have you designed many other buildings?”

  “Sure,” he said, sounding relieved that the conversation had resumed. “Lots of them.”

  She laughed. “Care to expound on that, Ted Mosby?” she asked, referring to the architect who had difficulty in the dating world on the sitcom, How I Met Your Mother.

  “Hey, I love that show.” He put a couple fingers to the top of his tie and slid them down toward his belt. “But my personality is closer to Barney–wait for it–Stinson.” He posed by placing both hands on his hips and looked into the distance with an assertive smile.

  His mock confidence, as well as the comparison to the show’s hilarious ladies’ man, made her grin. “Are you sure you want to be compared to a man-whore? After all, Barney once said, and I’m paraphrasing, ‘chicks think architects are hot. You create something out of nothing. You’re like God. And there is no one hotter than God.’”

  “Man-whore? Oh, you are so mistaken. Those who offer their services for payment are called prostitutes. Gentlemen like Barney Stinson? They’re man-sluts.”

  Kelsey liked how he seemed nonjudgmental and managed to keep a straight face as the conversation took this strange turn. “So you’d rather be called a slut than have women say you’re ‘hotter than God’?”

  “Of course. If women think of me as God, they’ll end up disappointed: I’m only human. But I can live with being called a slut. If your reputation is in the dumps, it can’t get much worse, now can it? There’s tremendous upside potential that way, and maybe I’d surprise some people.”

  The idea that this straight-laced, somewhat geeky guy preferred to be regarded as a slut rather than a hot-shot architect made her laugh. She also found that his light-hearted nature and his right-wing tendencies pecked away at her uneasiness until she’d relaxed and found herself drawn in by him. “Is this how all man-sluts approach all of their conquests? Get them laughing then swoop them up and into bed?”

  “Of course.” His smile widened. “But see, I’ve got something no other man can compete with: originality. Look around. How many men would choose a urine-scented animal shelter to pick up those he planned to seduce?”

  “And you think this strategy is going to work on me?”

  “It’s 100 percent guaranteed.”

  “Pop quiz: other than payment for services, explain the differences between a man-slut and a man-whore.”

  His grin faltered as he tried to come up with something witty, but failing to respond with a comeback after a few seconds, he shook his shoulders in defeat. “You’ve got me there. My name’s Paul.”

  “Kelsey. But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

  He looked down, nodding. “Guilty.” He met her eyes again and lifted his arms at the walls, indicating the building’s structure. “Before this job, I didn’t have any experience. But it helped me build a portfolio. Now I work in a posh high-rise downtown, so I wear these spiffy clothes and come by once every weekend to clean out the cages. I do it to stay humble.”

  Kelsey noticed something that Paul hadn’t yet realized: he didn’t remain humble by cleaning out the crates. He remained humble by feeling that he couldn’t repay the debt to the owner for giving him a chance when others wouldn’t. She found his sincerity and politeness quite attractive, and she felt a smile lifting the corners of her mouth. Finally!

  During her teens and early twenties, Kelsey had never given nice guys a chance, finding their even-tempered approach to life and their easy-to-please smiles boring. Like a mosquito that sped toward a bug zapper without thought, allowing her emotions to overwhelm instincts that counseled caution, Kelsey spent ten years racing towards the excitement and drama that surrounded these bad boys. At that time, she thrived on the uncertain: whether they’d call or whether they’d dump the girls they went out with to be with her.

  Just as with all her dates up until “the incident,” she’d granted them immediate trust and respect, only to learn that perhaps those qualities shouldn’t be doled out without first earning them. It disturbed her that it took an entire decade and a life-shattering wake-up call, which kicked off a ten-month dating hiatus, to comprehend that she needed to concentrate on what she wanted twenty years down the road, not twenty minutes into the future.

  Which reminded Kelsey of her run-in with Damon Durant yesterday. He’d activated a heart that otherwise only sped up while doing cardio. Only afterwards did she realize that she had pushed her shoulders back so he could get an eyeful of cleavage, and that she had licked her lips as she fantasized about whether his kiss could set her most intimate parts on fire. But if ten months alone, without the least bit of interest in meeting a man, had taught her anything, she’d discovered that she had enough strength to resist Damon and all the exhilaration that his bad-boy lifestyle suggested.

  Men like Damon Durant had no place in her life, and she took pride in having rebuffed his advances. It pointed to personal growth and a new direction in her life. If she had ignored past errors and allowed herself to fall for Damon, she wouldn’t have given a second thought to this more trustworthy gentleman standing before her.

  Kelsey found her heart lift at the prospect that Paul could be The One. Then a voice at the front of her mind told her: don’t get ahead of yourself. Live in the moment. Although these words sounded similar to those that urged her to live on the wild side by dating a bunch of jerks, this time, Kelsey had veered from one end of the spectrum to the other: searching for a man she could one day call her husband. And since she’d regained focus of the romantic life she wanted, she now ached for a committed relationship with the same emphasis she’d once placed on living an exciting, ever-changing life.

  Unlike Damon Durant, Paul wouldn’t flash a devilish grin that promised amazing sex and elicit unpredictable emotions that would whip her into a frenzy, after which she’d feel drunk on his love, only to surely suffer the torturous hangover that would last much longer than the consequences of an alcoholic binge.

  Of course, Paul might possibly produce a barely noticeable, somewhat pleasant buzz that left her feeling perfectly…fine the next day. But she now preferred to live with a tepid heat when it came to the sexual scorch-o-meter than a flaming one that consumed her, only to have it evaporate when the man in question vanished, leaving behind memories that lingered far too long.

  “So you plan on seducing me, huh?” Kelsey asked, curious to see if she could fluster him.

  “I did say ‘seduce,’ didn’t I?” He looked off to the side, uncertain how to continue. “Shoot. That implies a sexual encounter.” He threw his hands up in defeat. “Might as well come clean now: I’m celibate.”

  She drew back as if struck. “Really? For how long?”

  “Until my wedding night. I have to give that special woman something to look forward to. Besides, if you take sex out of the picture, everything gets clearer.”

  “You’re not—”

  “A virgin? No way. And that’s why I needed a change. It became more about looking for something that wouldn’t be more than a short-term thing. Sex is great, don’t get me wrong, but after that…what do you get?”

  “An orgasm?”

  “I’m trying to have an honest conversation here and you’re…” He tried to keep a straight f
ace but couldn’t. “Okay, that was pretty funny. But really, afterwards, you’re lying beside this person who was perfect for a short time—”

  “Short time, huh? That’s a common problem. Many men have an issue with stamina.”

  “Many men, huh? This sort of thing happens a lot with you?”

  That question sounded so out of context and loaded with sarcasm that it caught her off guard.

  “If you dish it out, you better be able to take it.” He grinned to show he held no grudge and didn’t judge her. “I’m only saying that once you’ve had this great experience together, if you’re with someone you aren’t compatible with on other levels, then sex becomes kind of…empty.”

  Kelsey hadn’t expected such depth, and she could relate with the meaning behind his statement. She couldn’t pin down what made Paul such an enigma. At first, both his mannerisms and words made it obvious that he was unsure of himself. But now, after only a few minutes together, he looked more poised and spoke with greater articulation.

  Such a dramatic shift was astonishing, but perhaps he just needed a little prodding, in the form of some gentle ridicule, to let his personality breathe without worrying about the repercussions of saying the wrong thing. She seemed to have already cut through a lot of hesitation and uncertainty and reached the core of his personality. And so far, she liked what she saw: once again, honesty and sincerity – two characteristics that many men lacked.

  “But make no mistake,” Paul said with a fleeting smile. “I plan on seducing you. Only it will be in the form of a date. I hope you’ll look past the chaste nature of my offer and accept a round of miniature golf at Congo River Golf.” He extracted a weathered, brown suede pocketbook and removed a ball point pen from inside it. “How about Monday at 7:00 p.m.?”

  Pulling out a calendar gave the impression that he’d dated so many women that he needed to write them all down to prevent double booking. Or did he resort to a calendar because he lived such a full life that he’d otherwise miss meetings and deadlines? He didn’t seem like the promiscuous type, so she gravitated towards the second possibility.

  “Sure,” she said. “I’m curious to know what you’re hiding.” The words slipped out of her mouth before she even vetted a response. She hadn’t expected to say something so…cynical, and she had no idea what led to that reply.

  Ignoring the comment, Paul wrote down a telephone number on a piece of paper, tore it from his notebook, and held it out to her. “In case you have second thoughts about dating a man with principles and decide to cancel.” The moment she took the note, he offered her a smooth smile before walking away, leaving her with the impression that she’d actually met a good guy.

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Mom?” Kelsey asked a few hours later, shocked to see the one person she’d least expect to visit her other themed restaurant, The Witching Hour. And she had to admit that, although she loved her mother, Kelsey felt…guilty that she’d stopped by. Most of the shame stemmed from having “borrowed” her mother’s home-style recipes (dishes she’d perfected over the last thirty-five years) that served as the appetizers, entrees, and specials on any given day at this restaurant. Granted, she’d “borrowed” them without her mom’s permission, but she had a very good reason for doing so. Her mother had once considered using them to create a cookbook, but she’d balked at the idea because she couldn’t bear the thought that publishers might reject her proposal.

  “Hi, honey,” said her mother, unraveling arms from across her chest as she greeted her daughter with a hug.

  Kelsey expected the embrace, but she didn’t have enough time to open her arms, which had gotten pinned to her mother’s breasts – an awkward position for any daughter, but doubly so for an entrepreneur standing only a few feet from her establishment’s entrance. Had only employees buzzed around the restaurant in the hour or so before they opened to the public, Kelsey might have overlooked the intimacy of their embrace, but a few dozen customers inhabited the two-story building, and it didn’t quite feel appropriate for the environment.

  Then again, Kelsey suspected that most of her discomfort derived from the requirement that her female servers – she didn’t hire male servers – wore large, pointy black hats and provocative black dresses that displayed enough cleavage to entice a strong percentage of males, both teenagers and adults, to visit. The outfits were inoffensive enough to attract a large number of excited grade school and middle school kids as well, who were usually accompanied by mothers who looked uncertain whether they should be repulsed or entertained by their surroundings.

  Her experience working at Slippery When Wet, where interactions with many male customers bordered the lines of sexual harassment, made Kelsey realize that she needed a wait staff with enough audacity to put those men who crossed the line into their place without placing judgment or acting rude. If those men disregarded their warnings, Kelsey had no difficulty bouncing them from the premises. Luckily, that hadn’t happened yet.

  Nevertheless, she figured her servers deserved something more for wearing such revealing clothing. She wanted each woman to rely on their affability, which in many cases would net them larger tips, and end up winning over customers. It was an expensive endeavor, but she wanted to win customers, and the best way to do that was to offer an experience. Hiring a wait staff of charismatic and upbeat individuals would guarantee that outcome.

  Kelsey hoped that the supernatural-themed spectacle itself served as the other aspect that promised an entertaining dining experience. Before purchasing the plot of land this two-story building resided upon, she spent months structuring every detail so that it had maximum impact upon those who stepped through the door.

  She’d bought an old but mint-condition wax figure of the Wicked Witch of the West from the Wizard of Oz to greet visitors. Kelsey purchased the piece to set the tone of her establishment: quirky, fun, and not too intimidating. From there, she hung framed sorcery and mystical-related posters on the walls. She’d also placed well-known props from Hollywood films both upstairs and downstairs (that she’d purchased on eBay): a mask of Beetlejuice, the nightgown worn by Linda Blair in the Exorcist, the outfit that Bill Murray and his colleagues wore in Ghostbusters, among other centerpieces like vampiric fangs worn by some of the most well-known vampires in cinematic history.

  Kelsey took pride in creating a restaurant with a family dynamic, a place where every person walking through the revolving door felt welcomed, because the horror-themed atmosphere lent the impression that paranormal creatures were outsiders. And that notion resonated with her. Always well-liked, but never truly understood, she identified with the loner mentality, even if she wanted nothing more than to have what she saw everywhere she now looked: acceptance.

  At the same time, as she glanced in every direction, Kelsey also noticed what she both loved and hated – happy couples. She enjoyed seeing their smiles that radiated comfort and security and appreciated them for keeping alive her hope that she might meet a man who saved her from a life of loneliness. On the other hand, she hated casting her gaze on these joyous couples because it made the idea of finding her soul mate an unending journey that may never come to fruition.

  Over the past three years, she endured a recurring nightmare that underscored this fear: Kelsey, at fifty years of age, stood in this very room, glaring at the content couples surrounding her as bitterness crept into her every thought and facial expression.

  She now withdrew from her mother’s embrace, prepared to attend to the couple in their forties who thankfully couldn’t see beyond the colorful collection of shiny balloons a young child held in both hands as he bounded into the vestibule.

  “Walk, Georgie,” said his mother, who turned to her husband and said, “Four years old, and he acts like a puppy.”

  Before Kelsey had the honor of meeting the trio, her greeter swooped in around her and attended to the parents, while the boy stood mesmerized by the Wicked Witch and shouted, “Whoa, boy, she’s ugly and mean and all things green
!”

  Noticing the boy’s mother about to admonish him for yelling in a public building, Kelsey took that moment to crouch down beside him with a devious grin as she neared his left ear. “And she likes to punish little boys who don’t listen to their parents.”

  The boy’s eyes shot open wide as he turned toward her.

  “Remember when the Wicked Witch threw that fireball at the Scarecrow?”

  After a moment of hesitation, the boy nodded, looking petrified.

  “She was laughing, right? Hmmm, I wonder how she might treat boys who don’t obey their parents.”

  The boy spun around and bashed into his mother’s shins. As she wrapped her arms around her son’s shoulders, she looked at Kelsey and whispered, “Thank you!” A moment later, Kelsey’s greeter led the family to a table toward the middle of the room.

  “You make a mother proud,” said Kelsey’s mom with an ironic grin. “I only wish I’d used that same threat. Do you think it would have worked?”

  “Probably not. You were nice back then.” Based on the way her mother’s thin smile crumbled upon hearing those two last words, Kelsey wished she could have edited her verbiage, but she couldn’t make the truth any less hurtful, so she decided to let it go.

  “I don’t want to keep you from your job,” said her mother in a firm tone, “but I’ve come to collect the Family Recipe Book.”

  Kelsey’s cheeks burned. How had her mother discovered that she’d sneaked the cookbook out of her home? Although she preferred to think that Alex had let the truth slip, he probably gave her up without even realizing it. Since he had a wonderful relationship with their mother, Alex never understood the complexity of a mother-daughter relationship. Therefore, at family get-togethers, Alex always attempted to pave the way for reconciliation by talking to each of them individually and using that information to start a conversation that required them to talk.