Mister Know It All by Amélie S. Duncan

FORD

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“What happened with Alpaca Socks?” Blair joked. She limped out of the pool on the roof of my place. I tensed, wanting to help her, but she wouldn’t allow it. Her fitness trainer had just finished their routine.

“Nothing,” I told her.

“Oh, come on,” she said. “Don’t grump.”

I poured her a cup of kale and apple juice. “I saw her last night.”

Blair toweled off. “Do tell.”

“I have nothing to say.”

“Stop making me drag it out of you,” she complained. “Just give me something to avoid thinking too hard about how frightened people looked at me in a bathing suit.”

Blair tried to make it a joke, but the experience had crushed her self-esteem. The stares and whispers at the gym pool had caused her to panic. I drove over and brought her and her trainer over here to use my pool. And now she wanted me to let her steer the conversation so she could forget and relax. There were no secrets between Blair and me. But I didn’t know what to tell her. I never planned to go out last night or to do anything else with Jasmine. I even tried to stay away last week to give us both space after the run, but she stayed on my mind.

I was on my way home when I heard Jasmine was going with the group to Black Bull. I never went out for drinks with the after-work crowd. Not only because I work late but I also don’t enjoy bars. I’d spent years begging my mom to leave them when I was younger. But I agreed to go with a few department heads from work and to make sure Jasmine was safe.

I watched that asshole try to block her path and left my seat to check on her. Then I saw him grab her arm, and my blood went hot. I hate that I hadn’t arrived back fast enough to protect her.

I was proud as fuck at the way Jasmine took him down, but I hated that she had to. She played down what happened and acted tough, but I knew she was scared. I couldn’t leave her like that. Still, I needed advice, so I told Blair what happened.

“She got attacked in a bar with her friends there? That’s horrible,” Blair said. She touched the scarred side of her face.

“Sorry.” I cursed myself for not considering the story might trigger her.

“I’m fine, don’t worry. I’m glad you were there and stayed there with her. But I suspect more happened.”

“It did, but . . . it was sweet.”

Blair laughed. “How sweet it is. So, no details, but you were a gentleman?”

“I surprised myself, but seriously. Jasmine was sweet.”

“You’ve already said,” Blair said and shook her head. “Fine, keep your secrets.”

I didn’t feel right gossiping about Jasmine. She was so different from all the other women I’d been with. She had no sexy come-ons or games. She put her trust in me and leaned on me for support and encouragement. Hell, she asked me to show her how to please me. Fuck. I jerked off twice in the shower to just that. I knew what I did with her was right last night. She was better than a hookup in a basement apartment. I’d take my time and show her just what her body could do and take. Once she was ready.

“I see . . . you’re doing that thing you do again.”

I didn’t answer and took a sip of my drink.

“You want to make her yours, but Jasmine’s rebounding. She’s only looking to have a fling for the summer.”

That’s not true. Not the way she clung to me. ”You’ve changed, Blair. Now you’re against moving on.”

“No, I haven’t. I’m all for moving on from Cecile and having sex, but you’re cultivating feelings and being purposely obtuse about what you know to be true.”

“And what is that?”

“Jasmine’s situation isn’t long-term. She has goals and dreams outside of your life. She’s in college, probably graduating with a plan to do something in Boston, and only visiting. She’s not going to choose you, even if you change your world for her. Cecile showed you what that felt like, and I don’t think you want to go there again.”

Blair touched my hand.

I looked down. I hadn’t noticed the tremor.

“I’m saying this all out of love. I love you, and I want the best for you. You deserve someone who will love and appreciate you. I like you with Jasmine as long as you keep things casual. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

I swallowed. “Enough, Blair. I hear you loud and clear.”

“Ford, this isn’t anything you wouldn’t have said to me. We keep things real for each other.”

Blair and I always agreed to tell each other the full and honest truth. Her friendship was something I’d been able to count on for over a decade. No one came close to ruining our friendship other than Cecile. I lost my head and objectivity when Cecile threw tantrums and threatened to leave or demand more promotion of her work. Never again.

The building’s visitor notification rang, and I exhaled long.

“Martin,” I told Blair after I checked my phone.

“That’s my cue to leave,” she said.

“Nonsense,” I told her.

She smiled. “I know you want me to go. You may hate me today, but I love you.”

I kissed her cheek. “I love you, and you know that.”

My phone went off again. This time it was Graham. He tried not to call me on the weekend. And lately, every time he did, something was wrong. “Yes?”

“Sorry to give you another call like this. We have a situation at the Connecticut office again. The new software rollout is still failing, and we’re due to go to market soon. Margot needs to stay on track for her retirement. Either you or Nick needs to go to our office there.”

“When?” I asked.

“Yesterday,” he said. “By the way, Soraya and I were invited to your dad’s birthday party at Aldric’s.”

Aldric throwing a party for our dad, who never attended any of his own, was proof that irony hadn’t died. I wouldn’t be surprised if Dad invited Blair to show off the facial reconstruction work he’d done on her to his friends. But Graham now? Our family wasn’t close, so why now and to what end? To get me to come? Not going to happen.

“I’m not going to the party. Jasmine and I were supposed to go to a conference today.”

“I’ll tell her,” he offered.

“I will. Talk to you soon.”

I went downstairs and texted my new assistant Jennifer to book a hotel and car for tomorrow morning. Then went into my place as Martin came inside. “I’m back. I showed Jasmine’s pictures to Willow, and she, in turn, showed some to Patrick Wells. You know the—”

“Indie director and collector,” I said to him.

He had taken a few of my photos from Cecile’s collection.

“Well, Patrick said he loves Cecile’s early work but now thinks she photographs ‘too obvious,’ whatever that means. He loves the innocent sensualness Jasmine shows in her photos and thinks there is promise. He’s keen enough to commission a shoot. In fact, he’s desperate to add to his erotic collection that he lost in the fire last year.”

“I haven’t fully discussed photos with Jasmine.”

“Why not?” he asked.

I shrugged.

He groaned. “Cecile again? It wasn’t your fault. She was green and impulsive. Andre was wrong to get involved, but they are not the same. We can name a price if you can get a full shoot. Show me something.”

“I have nothing for you. You wasted your time coming over.”

“Come on, Ford. We both know you do. I’m not taking the picture away with me. Please show me.”

I sighed and showed him the photo I took of Jasmine after she came.

“Oh, my,” Martin said, beaming at the photo. “I can feel this picture in my gut. I want to keep staring, and I question how you were able to capture so much in her face. She’s emotive. I can see that she’s excited, emotional, scared . . . vulnerable. She’s eager and desperate to be loved.”

“All that, Martin.” I mocked his artsy gab, but I thought the same.

“You like that I’m captivated. You have more?”

“I do, but I’m not sure.” I wasn’t sure I wanted Jasmine caught up in the art scene. It hadn’t worked out well for Cecile.

“This is about Cecile then,” Martin said, picking the thought out of my brain.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” But I did let Martin see more of Jasmine, much to his delight. He held up a picture of her in Times Square.

“This joy and enthusiasm can sell commercially, but I like the sensual angle better,” Martin said. “Please think about it. I’ve got to meet up with Anya, or I’ll be denied access to her party in the Hamptons next month.”

Martin was always name-dropping and in a hurry to do something. I walked him out with the promise to consider talking to Jasmine about doing a photo session for me. That’s how it starts. Taking photos of Cecile had been our start. And it changed her.

My phone beeped, and I checked to discover a message from Jasmine already in my voicemail.

“Hi, Ford. Last night was really great. I know we didn’t . . . have sex. But I liked it a lot. Anyway, Graham said you had to go away? I understand. I’m going to the conference anyway because Werner may be a social policy lobbying connection outside of the Boston arena. Even if Randall is there. Call me when you land so I’ll know you arrived safely. Or earlier if you’re waiting at the airport or on the road if you’re driving. I’ll come out and talk so you won’t be alone.”

I smiled, and that little spot in the center of my chest moved.

I’ll come out and talk so you won’t be alone. This woman barely knew me, yet she knew about my struggle with true loneliness. Something I’m only just figuring out. She was so open to me, and I wanted to cherish that. So often, I found women showed me they didn’t need me. And Blair was right that I was already interested in Jasmine. Jasmine stayed on my mind constantly. I wanted to fuck her, sure, but I also wanted to hear anything and everything about her.

My phone vibrated, and Cecile’s face appeared.

I snorted. Now?

My heart hammered as my eyes fixed to the screen. Surprisingly, I didn’t rush to answer. All I had wanted for months was for her to call. But now, after I left a message telling her I didn’t want to be together anymore, she calls.

I pressed the answer button and listened.

Static . . .

“Hello?”

Click.