Mister Know It All by Amélie S. Duncan

JASMINE

You’re lucky I like you

“Are you still lunching, Ms. Celebrity?” Quinton teased.

I spoke around the pencil between my teeth as I typed on my work laptop. “One second.”

Quinton always wanted to make things at work feel less like work, and I liked him for it. Work was already bright, but thanks to Graham, it had turned even brighter with the change in my position. Morgan Financial had given me a new job as a temporary research writer. The semi-promotion gave me a small office off the kitchen, complete with a desk, fake plant, and a window facing a brick wall. Not exactly a mover or shaker, but the position came with a pay increase that covered my next semester expenses and the house insurance without asking my parents for anything. Yay me! Working at Morgan Financial wasn’t college, but the same social issues were prevalent. I was spoiled for topics. And that was only the start.

After only a week on the job, New York Magazine requested to reprint one of my blog articles. I’d been the only one surprised.

I enjoyed the boost in profile, and for the first time, I received all the accolades with my name in print instead of ghostwriting Randall’s academic papers.

Besides the new perks, I got to flex my time to visit other businesses all over Manhattan. My schedule also gave me free time to move around Ford’s schedule. He’d been working longer hours because Margot had decreased her hours in preparation for her retirement. But we found a way to spend time together by working at his home. We’d cook, watch movies afterward, and always had sex before sleep.

Ford took off this afternoon and even more days the next few weeks. I’d been given access to his schedule to add things for us to do together within reason. I didn’t care as long as I got to see him. When I didn’t, I missed him terribly.

I finished typing and put my handbag on my shoulder. “Coming.”

“Is that what you told Ford?”

My face burned. Yes, many times. “No. Whatever you heard, it’s wrong.”

I lied, and Quinton wasn’t having it. He closed my door and folded his arms.

“Come on, Jasmine. We all know. You leave with him. He’s smiling and talking to us. The grinch who works on Christmas is taking time off. He’s got his sexy back.”

I rose from my chair. “Days off and saying hello is code for someone having sex at the office? Even I couldn’t find a way to prove that theory.”

We skipped the elevator to take the five flights of stairs to the lobby. Since Quinton had figured out Ford, I wondered what the office gossip was about me.

“Priscilla said when you all went to the spa over lunch, you got a wax,” Quinton said. “Oh, and by the way, she hates you now. Meow.”

I grimaced. “I’m not catfighting with her, but I won’t go out with her anywhere again since she gossips.”

“She wants what she can’t have. Hell, if it was me, I’d flaunt the hell out of Ford.” Quinton swaggered. “I’d make the whole office jealous. You’re leaving anyway. You don’t have to hide.”

A weirdness went through my chest. You’re leaving anyway. You don’t have to hide.

I was missing Boston, but really, it was only Tam I truly missed. People wise. I missed my running companion, she’d aced her practice MCAT, and she’d also met someone new. I wanted to hear more about him. I wanted to meet him face-to-face. Yet . . . I didn’t know when I would.

We went to the bistro around the corner, and I ordered soup and a salad.

“So, girly, what’s your plan?” Quinton asked. “Are you staying?”

“I’ll have enough credits to graduate in January. I plan to go back for the official graduation in May. I should hear a decision on the remaining Ph.D. programs for next fall.”

I totally didn’t answer his question, but how could I when I still didn’t know what I would do?

Quinton frowned. “Degrees are good on a wall. I have a social work degree, and let me tell you, college is great, but eventually, you have to leave it.”

“But if I become a professor, I wouldn’t have to…” I stopped myself.

I sounded like my mom. She had always made me believe the professorship was a certainty.

“Sure, you will eventually. But you’ll be up to your ears in debt and praying for tenure so that they won’t downsize your department and end your job. I’ve heard all the stories when I was trying to place overly educated unemployed people. It broke my heart,” Quinton said.

I’d heard stories like this before, but I always had an answer. I’d cultivated professional contacts that could work for me. Then again, would they? Randall had been responsible for sending the references before the breakup. Would that be my life? Becoming a permanent assistant, hoping one day a professor would retire or give me a shot? Or will they behave like Randall and hold me back for their own benefit?

Quinton sat taller and smiled, letting me know someone caught his eye. But then a familiar hand touched my shoulder. His touch still felt electric. His presence still took over the place he appeared. Ford. He was handsome in jeans and a button-down shirt. No suit jacket. His blue-eyed gaze still made me weak, and his smile made me giddy.

“Hello, petal,” he said softly, but from the grin on Quinton’s face, he heard him. Come to think of it, Ford wasn’t hiding me at all, not since the first night he touched me.

“Hello, Quinton, how are you doing?” Ford asked.

Quinton gave me a coy smile. “Good. Off today?”

“I am now and would like to take Jasmine with me early if you don’t mind,” he asked him.

“Sure thing,” Quinton said. “See you later, Jasmine, and think about what I said.”

“I will,” I told him.

“What’s Quinton telling you to do?” Ford asked.

“He’s convinced I should graduate but come back to work at Morgan Financial full time.”

Ford blanked his face. “And what do you think?”

“I think I don’t know what to do,” I said. He picked up my stuff and put it on the tray return while I dropped the empty containers in recycling.

“I love the work and making money. But my life is still in Boston. Tam’s there. I still have a semester left. I just don’t know…”

I glimpsed Ford, and I could feel I said the wrong thing or not enough. Things were going good between us despite Cecile’s return. I didn’t want to hurt him by not considering him too. “Would you be able to see me in Boston? It’s four months.”

His gaze was strong and made my knees weak. “I’d make time for you.” He took my hand, pressed his lips to the back of it, and then walked us to his car.

“Where are we going, Jasmine?” he asked.

“Gulliver’s Gate.”

Ford cringed, and I laughed.

“You’re lucky I like you, Ms. Bisset.”

My chest fluttered. “I like you too, Mr. Lingren.”

“I feel old,” Ford groaned.

He told me we could do anything and my first stop was Gulliver’s Gate, a miniature museum of the world. It was located in Times Square, and just like on our first visit, it was packed with tourists with shopping bags, phones, and long lines.

“I guess it was more interesting with Martin Scorsese in the Netflix documentary.”

“Trust me, it’s much better in person,” Ford said in a snobbish tone as we stopped by the Paris exhibit and eyed the Eiffel Tower.

“Well sorry, Ford. For us regular folk, a trip around the world is just a dream, but here we get to see it and dream it. Oh, look at that.”

I took Ford’s hand, and we walked over to watch the airplane take off from the miniature airport. “Wouldn’t it be fascinating if we could shrink down?”

“I wouldn’t shrink down. I’d prefer to be Godzilla,” Ford said and poked my side, and I giggled.

“You want to smash everything? You’re an engineer. I thought you’d appreciate the skill that went into making these miniature masterpieces.”

“I do,” Ford said, and a child came over and tugged on his sleeve with sticky cotton-candy fingers.

“Oh, sorry.” A man came over and scooped him up. “Slippery little devil. I turned my back—”

“And I have cotton-candy sleeve on my date,” Ford said and rolled up his sticky sleeve.

The man stiffened. “Well, if you’re behaving like this, I’d say, lady, head for the hills.” He carried his son away, and I laughed again.

“You think this is funny?” he said and laughed. I took a photo of him. He was breathtaking when he laughed.

“Now you’re the photographer,” he said, placing his arm around my waist. “That’s my job.”

“Well, you’re rubbing off on me.”

“I’ll rub all over you,” he teased and kissed my neck.

“Ford, come on. This is a family event.”

“And that’s why I don’t enjoy them.”

“Did you ever go to any of these places?”

“The closest I came was trying to get my mom out of the bar around the corner. I know just about every bar in this city,” he quipped, and I squeezed his hand.

“How is she doing?”

He pulled out his phone and showed me check-in at an AA meeting from his mom.

“She seems better, but I never could count on it. I know you said you didn’t get the time to be a kid. I didn’t either. I had to parent my mom, sister, and brother.”

“That sounds awful,” she said. “But they turned out amazing, right? Your brother is a doctor, and your sister is in college.”

He beamed with pride. “Yes, I’m proud of them. Despite everything, they made it.”

“I know you said you’re afraid of not having a family, but did all that parenting make you not as interested in having kids of your own?”

“No, I want children,” he said. “We can start practicing now.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“I’m happy with you, petal,” Ford whispered in my ear. I put my arms around him, and he hugged me tightly before we set off for the Taj Mahal. Walking around and looking at the miniatures were great, but it also made me think there was so much more of the world to see that I hadn’t yet.

We walked back to the car, and I drifted as I looked out the window, glancing out at the passing retail shops and office buildings until I noticed Ford missed the turn for Soraya and Graham’s home.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“The Brooklyn Superhero Supply shop,” he said, and I cheered.

I’d been talking about going since I arrived seven weeks ago. A place where you can turn into your favorite superhero or create your own. They had bodysuits, masks, wigs, and best of all, capes.

“So what superhero would you want to be, Ford?” I asked and turned on the music.

“Fix You” by Coldplay came on, and we both groaned.

“This song always makes me sad.” I turned the music down.

“Why?” Ford asked.

“It reminds me of my gran,” I said, and I sucked in air. My gran was the one subject I rarely talked about because I lived in the house she left me. At just the mention of her, I could see her talking to me for hours, telling me she loved me and would always be there.

I was on the verge of tears again.

He pulled over and parked, then took my hand. “You can tell me anything.”

I blinked at him. “You’re pulling over to stop just to listen to me?”

“You’re hurt, and I may need to hold you.”

My heart felt too big for my chest, and I closed my eyes. “You say all the right things. You make me feel like you care.”

“I do, Jasmine. You’re not alone with me.” And that’s exactly what I felt with Ford. Cared for. Important.

“The song reminds me of losing my gran. She was pure love, and losing her was like someone carved out a spot inside me, and I can’t refill it. It can never be fixed. I can’t go a day without feeling her loss, and it’s been a few years. I live in the house she left me, but the pain never leaves.” He undid his seat belt and mine and hugged me.

“Not exactly the mood for a time in a superstore.”

“Pain doesn’t work on a timeframe,” Ford said and kissed my forehead. “You just feel it.”

“You’re so good to me,” I whispered in his ear.

“I want to be,” Ford whispered back, and I thought I heard “always,” but I couldn’t bring myself to ask. “Let me cheer you up, get you a cape, and get you to wear it and nothing else.”

“Was that your plan all along?” I shook my head and laughed.

“Of course,” he said, and we headed in. Before we reached outside the storefront, his phone went off a few times. He checked it and groaned. “Nick. I’m beginning to think he doesn’t know how to do the job at all.”

“He’s a coaster.”

“A what?”

“A guy at work who coasts. No one asks him to do much work, but he always gets promoted.”

“Morgan Financial doesn’t have coasters,” Ford said. “Nick’s just used to Margot and me doing everything.”

“Well, maybe it’s good that he gets to work now.”

“But our work needs someone who’s up for it,” Ford said. “I’ll contact HR to see if they can send out some feelers for a replacement, just in case he is a coaster.”

I frowned. “I told you that in jest, not as a reason to get rid of him.”

“You’re observant, and I don’t think you’d have said it if you hadn’t noticed something. Maybe we can get you to assess everyone.”

I frowned. “No way. I’m not taking away anyone’s livelihood. I’ll go to the shop. You call him back and help him out.”

“You giving me orders, Ms. Bisset?” he said, smiling.

“I am,” I said and hit his butt before ducking into the shop.

I peered through the window and saw him grinning. I waited, not wanting to miss a minute of Ford. Buzz. My phone alerted, and I checked. It was a message from Tam.

Tam: Reference done. Thank you, Dr. Yeats! Off to BC and Harvard to drop off the recommendations!

It was a photo of her picking up my two reference letters from Dr. Yeats.

I sent a picture holding up a Wonder Woman cape.

Jasmine: You’re my superhero.

Tam: Fun! Are you going to get Ford to dress up?

Jasmine: Most definitely.

Tam: You’re torturing the man.

He strolled in, and my pulse skipped a beat. Jesus. Will I ever not go crazy when I see him? We went over to the counter.

Jasmine: Talk to you later.

“I was talking to Tam. She dropped off the reference letter.” My head tilted down. “I was sort of celebrating.”

“You should,” Ford said. He kissed my forehead. “Stop thinking so hard. We’re superheroes today.”

One of the shop managers came over to speak to us. “So, which superheroes do you want to be? Or are you going to create your own?”

“Wonder Woman for her,” Ford said.

“Homelander for him,” I told him.

“He’s evil. I thought you’d go for Captain America,” Ford said in surprise.

“This is a fantasy. I want him for a few hours,” I said as my cheeks heated.

He chuckled. “So you want to use him for sex?”

“The body wants what the body wants.”

Ford didn’t even bat an eye and took the costume into the dressing room. He came out and posed with his hands on his hips. His muscular body filled out the tight red and blue bodysuit oh so well. The shopkeeper turned on a fan, and the USA flag cape billowed behind him. My ovaries exploded.

He gave me a stern look that weakened my knees. “I’m Homelander, and I’ll do whatever the fuck I want.”

Shifting my legs, I flicked my gaze to my breasts and cocked a brow.

“You’ve got a dirty streak.” He gave me a wicked smile and grabbed my waist, pulling me into the dressing room. I held on to the clothing hook as he yanked down my top and bra, then covered my breast with his mouth and drew hard, sending a shot of pleasure and pain through my body.

Fuck.I gazed at his mouth and leaned in, willing him to do more.

Ford suckled, and my eyes went back in my head.

“Oh, Homelander,” I moaned.

Ford laughed.

“You’re breaking character, Ford.”

He swirled his tongue around my nipples, then sucked. I moaned louder.

“No sex in the dressing rooms!” a shopkeeper called out.

“We’re…we’re buying the costume,” I said breathless.

Ford laughed and kissed me hard on the lips. “To be continued later. Now your turn.”

We both went into the dressing room and tried on a bunch of different outfits. I looked around and wondered why we were the only ones in the shop at this hour.

“I rented the place for us,” Ford said.

“You did?” I exclaimed. “That’s so unbelievable. I can’t believe you did that for me.”

He kissed my lips. “It’s for me too. Now go on and get changed. I’ve got fantasies too.”

The shop manager brought out Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, and Catwoman. Ford took photos while I pretended to take off and fly.

When I ran out in my Wonder Woman costume, he took photos of me. His expression turned carnal. “Yeah. I’d like two of those.”

“Two?” I asked.

“I may be a bit eager to take that off you when we get back,” he said. And I didn’t get even a hint of humor. Ford always made me feel like the only woman in the room and beautiful.

“Add one special outing to the calendar for me,” Ford said. “Then you’ll see what it’s like to do whatever I want.”

I couldn’t wait.

He picked me up and carried me over his shoulder out of the shop.

“We haven’t changed,” I pointed out, but Ford kept going.

We walked out of the superhero store in our Wonder Woman and Homelander costumes. Some people stopped and stared, and cameras were out. I was too happy to care, but I wondered about Ford. He didn’t change or even try to rush us to the car, though he placed me on my feet and held my hand as we walked the many blocks back to where we parked. What had gotten into this man? I couldn’t wait to find out. He turned his head to me, and our gazes collided and held. In there was everything we shared, all our secrets, our pain, our laughter. Us.

“You want to mark the moment?” he asked, smiling.

I already had.