Life as We Know It (Love Not Included) (Volume 4) Read online

  “Yes?” I ask through the door.

  “I have a package for a Ms. Summers.” The young delivery man says while looking at his form.

  What the…?

  I drop Chelsea and open the door, less worried that he might be an ax murderer tricking me with a package and more curious what’s in the damn box.

  I end up signing a form, which looks legit and thanking the cute young man for his services. I move past Chelsea who seems to want back in my arms.

  “Chelsea, baby, momma’s gotta see what’s in this fancy box, okay?” And when I say fancy, I mean wrapped in yet another silk bow and stamped with the Barney’s logo.

  If anyone should ask, I opened this elegantly. In reality, I rip the box open like I’m a contestant on Supermarket Sweep and I have thirty whole seconds to get to the prize or I don’t win.

  Once I battle with the fancy bow and tear open the top, I find the most gorgeous red silk dress I have ever seen. I pick up the sleek material and hold it up against my body.

  “Beautiful,” I hum to myself. The dress has a V-line back that will dip down just above the contours of my lower back. The front is also V-lined, assuming the same as the back, but this side, dipping perfectly between my perky breasts, offering just the perfect amount of skin to flatter my boobs. While twirling around holding my newest best friend, I notice the card inside the box. I freeze instantly. Then of course grab for it and rip the fancy seal off.

  To my sweet Penny,

  I look forward to taking this off you tonight.

  - S

  “No he didn’t,” I say while trying not to take notice of my already flushed cheeks. Chelsea meowing next to me confirms he did.

  At this point he doesn’t even need to feed me dinner to get dessert. I don’t even know how I’m going to make it through a single course without wanting to crawl under the table and get my fill of this perfect, perfect man.

  It scares me, these feelings that arise every time I think of Sam Dresden. I said it before and I will say it again, I just don’t do casual anything. And if you haven’t noticed, it’s kind of hard not to get attached to anything Sam related. My heart feels all warm and tingly just re-reading his note and I’m not sure that’s such a good thing. He confessed he wanted me to be his. But what does that entail entirely? He is rich. Filthy rich actually and he can have anybody. Why me? And for the life of me, I can’t figure out why he isn’t already taken. With his looks, charm and money, there is no way he doesn’t get offer after offer.

  Chelsea meows again, breaking my inner battle. “Guard up, I know Chels.”

  I’ve been down this road before. The rich guy swoons the girl off her feet, only to drop her like yesterday’s trash once he gets tired of her. I just don’t want to be a toy to him. Because in the land of the elite, that’s what people like me are. Toys. When they get bored, they toss us and find something newer and shinier. And what would he say if he got wind of my less than stellar past?

  More meowing. “I know girl. It’s just a dinner. He’s not asking me to go steady or anything.”

  But he did use the word, mine. That’s defined, per Google dictionary, as something that belongs to someone. If I break through this wall I’m putting up, would I be his? Would he be exclusively mine?

  “Oh shit, Chels, do you think he has more?” Did I also ever mention I might have paranoia issues? I think about our week. He has been with me during the days. The only time we were separated was when he had to attend meetings. Whereas, I just stayed in his office. But once the day was done we went our separate ways. Although attempting to keep me longer by bribing me with late dinners, I always declined.

  Oh my god, was he having flings on the side once I left?

  More meowing, “Oh shut it, Chels. You don’t know for sure!” I’ve totally just convinced myself he is a whorish whore and debate on taking this dress out with a pair of scissors. There is no way that healthy sex drive of his has kept tamed for the past two days if he has been celibate.

  “Oh fuck.” I drop to my couch. I turn to Chelsea who is lying on top of the cushion purring away. “Am I setting myself up for complete destruction, Chels?” Sadly she doesn’t answer me. I look up at the clock ticking away on the wall. Sam will be here in less than an hour.

  Just suck it up, you sissy. Go to dinner. Give him a chance.

  “You know what, self, you’re right!” I sit up and stand. I’m a big girl. If this shit hits the fan, then, well, so be it. So I might get a little heart broken. Not like that’s never happened. I need to stop being such a ninny and give Sam a chance. He deserves that much. And so does my brain-gina who keeps screaming put the damn dress on and move this party along.

  Fifty minutes later and I have transformed myself into the runway model I was destined to be. Okay, so that might be stretching it but, holy shit, this dress looks amazing on me. Not to toot my own horn but if this guy even makes it through dinner I will actually be disappointed. Just as I swipe a small layer of red gloss onto my lips, I hear the sound of the doorbell.

  I slip the tube into my clutch and head for the door. I wink at Chelsea, who also agrees I look smashing, and proceed to open the door to— “Holy mother of Christ.” This guy standing before me cannot look any more edible right now.

  “Jesus Christ is right; my God you look stunning.” I mentally thank him for the compliment but I’m afraid I’m speechless over the man before me. He is dressed in a pinned three-piece suit. His hair is flawless as always, his eyes the bluest shade of perfect.

  He steps into my small apartment and places a gentle kiss to my cheek. “You look simply amazing, Pen.”

  “Thanks, so do you.”

  “Are you ready?” He asks taking a scan of my tiny living quarters.

  “Sorry, I’m sure it’s not as fancy as your place. But it has partial running water and the rats only come out during the day when I’m not here.”

  His face falls instantly. “I’m joking.” I assure him.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said I was joking. I’m sure our living quarters are quite different, but this is home for me and I like it.” He grabs at my hand, pulling me to his hard chest, his minty breath hitting my face. “I think your place is you. And you are perfect. I was looking around to see the things that you surround yourself with. Hoping to get to know you better.”

  “Oh.” I breathe unsteadily. “Have you made any solid evaluations?” I ask.

  “Well I am going to assume you enjoy a fine frozen drink since you have three blenders on top of your refrigerator for one.”

  Okay so I’m not that big of a lush. For the record, only two of those are mine. Jamie unfortunately left his here the other night when we started getting super loaded and decided we were going to see how many different ways we could serve up a margarita. So, in the end, I can only take the blame for two.

  “Anything else?”

  “Well your cat is giving me the crazy eye.”

  I laugh. I turn to see Chelsea, in fact staring down our man. She is an attention hoarder so she knows if this works out she has a lot of lonely one-on-one time on her hands.

  “She’s just shy,” I laugh. “So, unless you want a tour of my bathroom and shoe closet—” Which I don’t actually have, because, well… I live in a shoe box “—then I say we get this most awaited dinner date going.”

  Then he does it.

  He gives me that infectious smile that makes me want to body slam him to my floor and suck on his face until I’m fresh out of air. I squeeze my legs together in hopes of not looking too obvious. I’ve been having this issue with my cheeks giving me away lately. His face, still smiling, softens at the look on mine. He steps aside and offers me the lead.

  “After you, milady.”

  Seriously? Who. Says. That?

  Perfection. That’s fucking who.

  DINNER IS OUT OF this world. Sam took us to Masa, a restaurant that has been named as one of the top three restaurants in New York City. You have to be a �
��somebody” or have made reservations two years in advance to get a table at this place. It makes sense how dressed up we are because, wow, this place is insane.

  I’m going to guess that the chandeliers are real crystal and the faucets in the women’s bathroom are solid gold. Worst case, I might try and yank off the toilet handle to pawn off for later in life. In case of emergencies, sort of thing.

  Currently, we are on our third course. As in we have already had two and we have FIVE more to go! When you get served in between entrees to clear your palette for the next course you know you’re in some ritzy ass place. It doesn’t help that Sam has been feeding me bite after bite, ordering for us both and explaining all the fancy courses, cultures and known facts of each and every ingredient. I mean he could be making this all up for all I care, and I would still nod, smile and sign on the dotted line that he has me all night long.

  “Okay, so open.” He lifts the fork that is holding a delicacy of raw tuna with some sort of bright orange eggs on top.

  “I’m not sure I like raw stuff.” Actually I know I don’t like raw stuff. Explain barf story later.

  “This is different. The flavors are paired just right that you won’t know it’s raw. You will feel the texture but the cured tuna will override the eggs. And when you taste the base of the marinated gold leaf, it will all build to an explosion of flavors in your mouth.”

  Okay…did he just say explosion of flavors in my mouth? Are we still talking about food here?

  “The food, Pen.” He clearly mind-reads my debate.

  “Get out of my head,” I state.

  “Huh?”

  “Oh… Nothing. So mouth explosion.”

  He smiles and lifts the fork back up to my mouth and I take a seductive bite. “Yes, mouth explosion, I promise it won’t dissapoi—”

  “Penelope?”

  The sound of my name breaks our playful connection as we both turn to the voice responsible for the interruption. The face of the one person, or should I say people, I wished never to see again.

  “Penelope, wow, I almost didn’t recognize you,” Henry states as he looks me up and down. I’m too busy choking on my food explosion to reply. While I try and force down my bite, Henry moves his focus from me to Sam.

  “Mr. Dresden, a pleasure to see you again. I didn’t know you and Penelope knew one another?” He looks from Sam back to myself. Sam looks ready to punch someone.

  Thankfully instead, he stands and shakes his hand. “Henry, always a pleasure.” He turns to Cassandra and kisses her on the cheek. “Cassandra, you look lovely as always.”

  “Oh do stop, Sam. You’re always way too sweet to me.”

  Okay now I may look like I want to punch someone.

  “I’m sorry, Henry, but how do you and Penny know each other?” That’s Sam. Go figure, always the inquisitive type.

  Using my shortened name throws Henry off. He stutters a bit, and explains. “Penelope and I used to be, better acquainted,” he says nervously while looking back at Cassandra for counsel.

  Acquainted? Really? What a fucking ass. He can’t even admit he dated me? He has to, with his pecker tucked between his legs, get approval from the wicked witch of the over botoxed West? Unfortunately, Sam doesn’t care about my hateration for Cassandra. He’s too busy staring me down at this new information.

  While Sam is staring me down, Henry is staring at Cassandra like a lost puppy dog. And Cassandra is staring at me like I stole her steak dinner.

  This shit is seriously messed up.

  Therefore, I break the silence.

  “Well actually we weren’t just acquainted, we used to date.” I stand up and throw my napkin on the table. “But don’t tell anyone, we don’t want to ruin his perfect image.” I turn to Sam, who looks ready to murder someone. “Thank you for dinner. But I seem to have lost my appetite…”

  I turn to grab at my purse.

  I side step a shocked Henry and a smirking Cassandra as I walk away from the table. I make it outside the restaurant when a strong grip pulls me around and into his heaving chest.

  “What the hell just happened back there?” Sam demands, looking angry with me.

  “Nothing, I don’t feel well. I’m sorry. I have to go.”

  “To hell you do. I thought you told me you didn’t know Henry Berkshire.”

  My lip is beginning to quiver, as old wounds threaten to rip open. “Well, I lied. I know him. Very well.” I attempt to pull away from his bruising grip. “Let me go, Sam” I need to get out of here.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you knew him?”

  Again with the interrogation. “Let me go!” I raise my voice, “I don’t owe you an explanation for my past.”

  He doesn’t let up. He turns to the valet who is eyeing us suspiciously. He grabs me and pulls me to the side of the building, away from wondering eyes and ears.

  “What are you hiding from me Pen? How well do you know him?”

  Jesus Christ, what’s with the twenty Henry questions? Does he want to date him?

  “I’m not answering these questions, it doesn’t matter. You know what, I can’t do this.”

  “Can’t do what?” His facial expression turns glacial.

  “This. You. Us. I’m not made to frolic with the elite. Be just another disposable toy to the rich. I won’t let you use me, then drop me when things get old for you or you find out I’m not as perfect as you think.”

  His eyes grow wide with confusion. “What in God’s name are you talking about?”

  “This!” I burst out, throwing my hands in the air, “I dated Henry. Yeah. But he dumped me. And you want to know why? Because I didn’t fit the perfect girlfriend mold for his campaign. He just dropped me,” I spit out, breathing heavily. “One day, when I thought we were making plans to move forward, he told me that we were done. Or more like Cassandra, his right hand whore, told him something wasn’t good for his career. And that something was me. The pathetic loser with a record.”

  His grip softens taking in my confession. I’m not as angry anymore as I am sullen. I hate to even listen to myself explain the pathetic story of my past with Henry.

  “You’re not pathetic.”

  “What?” I ask not paying attention.

  “You. You’re not pathetic. I think you’re quite spectacular, to be frank.” His voice has softened and his touch gentled. His hand has traveled up my waist, now brushing against my wet cheek.

  “I can’t do rich, Sam. I can’t. It’s just not me. I won’t. I refuse to change again to be someone I’m not just to please a man. I won’t be that perfect, well-mannered girl who’s only around to make you look good. So if that’s what you expect you can just call it quits now.”

  “God, that does sound awful,” he says.

  “Huh?” I lift my head up to meet his smirking eyes.

  “What you just described is a stiff Barbie doll. That sounds absolutely awful. And you are correct. If that’s who you’re going to turn into, I’m not sure this is going to work out.”

  “It’s not?” Now I’m totally confused. “So now are you breaking it off with me?”

  “Well yes, if you are going to tell me that you’re not going to be the person that I have spent the last week with. The one who smiles and laughs at her own jokes, who thinks reading the Onion is just as informative as the New York Times, and who spends more time looking at romance book blog sites than she tries to admit. I won’t go into the cuss words my mother would fall dead on her feet if she heard coming out of a lady’s mouth. That’s who I want. And if you can’t continue to give that to me, then you are correct, we should end things now.”

  He has me in a tailspin. I’m pretty sure he said he wants me for me and not a fake version of what I think he wants.

  “So you’re not worried that I’ll ruin your image and send you to the poor house?”

  Sam shakes his head, pressing his forehead to mine. “I’m worried about you walking away from me. Not giving me the chance to show you that I can be
someone who you deserve. You amaze me every damn day. Your smile, it haunts me at night. It takes everything in me not to force you home with me. And when the sun begins to rise, I find myself rushing to work just to stalk the doors, waiting for you to walk through them. I’m not worried about you doing anything to ruin me. I’m worried about me disappointing you. Because to me, you are perfect. And I’m trying to figure out how not to fuck up and send you running.”

  He stops to tuck the hair that’s come loose behind my ear. “You ran away from me once and it wrecked me. I knew the moment I set eyes on you that night you were someone that I needed. I crave you, Penelope Summers. Let me worship you. Let me show you I can be someone you can trust.”

  We have already established that when it comes to words, I’m broken. So I show him in the best way I know how. I bring my lips quickly to his and kiss the ever loving daylights out of him. He doesn’t hesitate to push me farther against the wall and participate in the best kiss ever.

  “You are so damn sweet.”

  “Kinda like a mouth explosion?” I mumble between licks and tugs.

  “Even better,” he says, releasing my lower lip. “Let’s get outta here. Anything you want to do, let’s do it.”

  I watch him as he studies my facial expression. “But you don’t want to finish dinner? That had to cost you a fortune.”

  “That means nothing to me. What I want is priceless and it is right in front of me.”

  I smile at his confession. “Anything?” I say, because I have a great idea.

  “Anything. Give me a night in the life of Penelope Summers.”

  At that I smile wide. “I may have an idea in mind.”

  “Done. What is it?”

  “You will just have to wait and see.” I tug at his tie and slam his lips back onto mine. Once I get my fill of his sultry mouth, I pull away and drag him back toward the street. I instruct the valet that we’re ready to leave and to fetch our driver. Sam looks at me curiously as I stand bobbing back and forth on my Choos.