Custom Love by Chantal Fernando

Chapter Thirteen

After emailing my client what I found out about her biological parents, their location and contact details, I close my laptop. My eyes lift when a deliveryman enters my office holding a beautiful bouquet of orange tulips.

“Those are for me?” I ask, brow furrowing. I can’t remember the last time I got any flowers when it wasn’t my birthday.

“Yes, ma’am,” the man says, asking me to sign as he sets them on my desk. He thanks me and leaves while I sit there staring at the flowers, just admiring their beauty. I then reach for the card and smile so wide it hurts as I read the note.

Dinner tonight? I can pick you up at seven.

Thinking about you.

Trade

I know he said he wanted to take me out, but I’m still taken aback by this gesture. It seems so official, but I like that he put effort into our first date.

I want to jump up and do a happy dance. He is finally letting me know where he stands and making a move, and I love this for me. Yes, I know it’s complicated, but the first reaction from me is yes. Yes, I want to try to see where this can go.

I confirm via text.Seven sounds perfect. See you then.

I send Bronte a message letting her know that he asked me out, and then get back to work, smiling the whole time.

Bronte replies with Who do you think is babysitting? adding a winky face, and I write back to her telling her she is the best friend in the world. I love how supportive she is being despite her concerns. I’m just going with my gut here, like I do with my work, like I always have.

That’s all I know. And I’d rather try and fail than always wonder “what if.”

The rest of the day goes by in a flash, and at the end of the day I head home. I have a long shower and take my time, washing my hair, and shaving—just in case. It’s not always every day that I have the time to pamper myself, and I actually enjoy a little self-love time.

Once I’m all clean and moisturized, I leave my hair in a towel and check my wardrobe, wondering what to wear. He didn’t say where we are going, but I want to look cute no matter how casual or fancy the restaurant is. I decide to play it safe and wear my favorite pair of light denim high-waisted jeans, a black off-the-shoulder top that ties up at the front, and black block heels. I straighten my dark wavy hair and apply a little bit of makeup—light foundation, nude lips and some black kohl around my eyes framed in a few swipes of mascara. I smile at my reflection in the mirror, and grab my clutch bag with my phone and debit card in it.

Trade arrives on time, which I appreciate, and comes to the front door and knocks. He looks so handsome even in just jeans and a black shirt, and he smiles as I open the door.

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs.

“You clean up well yourself,” I reply, stepping out the door and locking it behind me. The scent of his cologne hits me and makes me want to jump him. “Thank you for the flowers today—I loved them.”

“I’m glad,” he replies, walking to his truck with me and opening the passenger-side door. He’s such a gentleman and being chivalrous just comes naturally to him, but it means a lot to me. I haven’t been on a date in so long and I know he’s going to make sure it’s a wonderful one, because that’s just the type of man that he is.

“So where are we going?” I ask as he gets into the driver’s seat. I was a little nervous before he arrived, but now that he’s here I just feel...content.

Like I’m where I’m meant to be.

“Well, I checked a few places out because I wanted it to be somewhere new, somewhere hopefully neither of us have been before and somewhere you would love,” he admits, turning down the music a little. “So I settled on a seafood restaurant, because Bronte mentioned that you love seafood, especially crayfish.”

“So you’ve done your research,” I reply, impressed. “I do love seafood, but I pretty much love any type of food. I’m not too fussy on that front.”

“Good to know. It’s been a while since I’ve been out to eat, never mind on a date, so I might be a little rusty.”

“You and me both.”

“Why don’t you go out on dates? You’re beautiful, successful, ambitious, kind... I could go on...”

I laugh. “Honestly, I’m always busy with work. In my experience men always say that they want a strong, independent woman, but when it comes to dating one? That’s another thing. I do spend a lot of time at work and it’s a job I take home with me, too. Men don’t like that. At least my last ex-boyfriend didn’t, and after we broke up I never bothered dating anyone else. It’s not that I’ve been opposed to it... I guess I hadn’t met anyone who really caught my eye.”

Until now.

I glance over at him, and as though he could hear my thoughts, he smiles, reaches over and takes my hand. “I like that you are so passionate about what you do, and I’d never hold you back from that. From what I’ve seen so far, I like you just the way you are. I didn’t plan on dating again; I just wanted to focus on the kids and feel sorry for myself. But I like you, Nadia. I like spending time with you, I like seeing you smile. And I know that means something. You are an amazing woman. I know I come with a lot. I have kids and a past and all of that—”

“I like you just as you are, too,” I reply.

I accept him just as he is, with the kids, with the past, with everything.

“I think at this point in our lives, we need to either accept each other as we are, right now, in this moment, and all that comes with that, or we don’t bother,” I say. “Or at least we try to learn to.”

This conversation got deep really soon—we haven’t even made it to the restaurant yet—but we’re laying it all out on the table. I guess when you’re dating someone with kids, you kind of have to. He has to think about the kids first, and I understand that. The children should always be put first in any situation.

“So considering you’re sitting here, I’m going to assume the whole four kids thing isn’t a deal breaker for you.”

I laugh. “No, it’s not. I’ve never dated anyone with kids before, though, and besides Quinn I haven’t spent much time with children.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed that. You are wonderful with my children. After the dinner we had at my house, the kids all gave you the seal of approval.”

“Did they? That’s good to know. Is that what that dinner was? A predate to make sure that I pass all the tests?” I ask, lifting my brow.

“It wasn’t a test, but I did want the kids to spend some time with you, and they all gave me the thumbs-up. They think you are great, even Alia, and she hardly likes anyone. But if they didn’t it would be kind of hard to date you, so luckily for me they approve.”

“Lucky for me, more like it. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again: you are a good father,” I say.

“Thank you,” he replies, running his thumb along my knuckles. “I try, that’s for sure.”

We arrive at the restaurant. Trade opens my door for me and guides me to the entrance with his hand on the small of my back. My senses are all on alert, and every time he touches me it’s electric. I don’t know if it’s because it’s been so long or because it’s him, but I think it’s a mix of both.

I wonder if he feels it, too.

He pulls my chair out for me, and I sit down and wait for him to do the same. The restaurant is fancy, mirrored walls and gold details, a big bar and beautiful table settings. It looks really expensive. I like the effort he has put in, but I hope he knows he didn’t have to do this. He could have taken me anywhere, and I would have been fine with it.

We chat as we look over the menu and order a glass of wine each. We decide on a seafood platter for the two of us to share, which has a little bit of everything on it.

We start talking about Fast & Fury, and I ask him about his construction company, which AJ mentioned to me.

“Yes, I do own my own construction company, so before I was managing that, but I hired someone else to for the time being because Temper asked me if I would help him out,” Trade explains. “To be honest, I was happy for a change, I was kind of stuck in a rut in my old job, so I thought doing something new would mix it up a bit. I love motorcycles, and I love working at Fast & Fury, so it worked out well, and I also always have my business to lean back on for extra income. It’s a win-win situation.”

“So you used to be in the MC?” I ask. I’ve heard the story, but not from him, and I’d like to hear what he has to say about it.

“I was in the MC,” he admits, nodding. “And when I had my kids I decided to step away from it. I guess I never fully did, though, I was just not officially a member anymore. It’s kind of hard when your big brother is the president. I’m always going to be there for him and a part of that world whether I like it or not. Temper is all the family I have left, aside from my children, and he’s always been the best big brother to me. I’d do anything for that man.”

“I love how everyone in the MC looks after each other.”

“They do,” he agrees. “They’ve all helped me out so much. I don’t think I could ever repay them.”

“You’d do the same for them in a heartbeat.”

He nods. “Yes, I would. So tell me, what was Bronte like as a private investigator?”

I laugh. “That is my best friend, so I don’t know what you think you’re going to get out of me, but I will say she was a good one. She was good at acting, you know, playing a role to get information.” We had a lot of fun together. “This one time there was this man who was skimming money from his boss. We were hired to catch him in the act and it was at a strip club.”

Trade chuckles. “Oh man, please tell me you and Bronte had to go undercover.”

I take a sip of water. “No, not me. Just her. I was there as backup, but this was all her. She showed up looking for a job while I sat at the bar. In less than two minutes she had the bartender, our mark, eating out of her palm. When she told him she didn’t really want to be a stripper but needed the money, he went into the register and pulled out five hundred dollars to give to her. Mission accomplished.”

“That is the best story.”

“Oh, I have a lot more, but they’re in the vault. She has just as many stories about me,” I say with a wink.

“I’ll have to bribe her with days off.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“I’m kidding. If you weren’t a PI, what would you do?”

I tilt my head as I consider his question. “Well, if I could go back and have a do-over, I’d probably be a social worker. After all the cases I’ve done with children, I realize someone needs to be their advocate.”

“You like helping people,” he muses.

“I do. I like to be useful, and I like being challenged. I like that I both do desk work and work out in the field, so it’s a mix of different things and it’s never the same.”

“You’re hardworking and passionate. And it looks good on you.”

I duck my face as I smile. “I’m a bit of a workaholic.”

“I’ve noticed. But if that’s what you love, then why not let it consume you, right? As long as it makes you happy.”

I love that he’s so supportive. I don’t think I could be with someone who didn’t support and encourage my dreams.

The food arrives, and the platter looks so pretty I can’t help but take a photo to show Bronte. “This looks amazing.” There’s lobster, prawns, crabs, oysters and crayfish with salad, fruit, crackers and some seafood sauce to dip it all in. “This is going to be messy.”

“No judgement here.” Trade grins, flashing his teeth as he picks up a prawn and dips it before taking a bite. “Holy shit, that is good.”

I start off with the safer options, but end up having to dive in with the crab, cracking the shell and sucking out all of the flesh. I lift my head to find his eyes on me, watching.

“It’s all over my face, isn’t it?” I ask.

He shakes his head, grinning. “No, I just like watching you eat.”

We finish up the meal and have dessert, and when the bill comes I offer to pay. Trade quickly declines my offer, looking offended that I’d even consider that. But it’s the twenty-first century and I’m more than happy to pay. The bill was expensive and I feel bad that he paid for it all.

He seems to think otherwise. “If you’re going out with me, I’m paying. I like being able to do that. I guess I’m a little old-school that way.”

“Next date, I’m paying,” I declare.

He simply smiles. “So there’s going to be a next date, hmm?”

My lip twitches. “Yes. Would you like to go on a second date with me?”

“I’d love that,” he murmurs, our eyes locking and holding.

“Should we get out of here?”

He nods, and we head back to my house.

I don’t know what’s going to happen next, but I know what I want to do.

“Do you want to come in for coffee?” I ask as he parks at my place. “You’ve never seen my house, have you?”

“Nope, this is my first time coming here. And yes, I’d love coffee.”

We get out of the car and walk to my front door together, our shoulders brushing up against each other. I clear my throat and glance up at him to find his eyes on me. When they drop to my lips, I swallow hard. The tension is high between us, and it’s been building all night. I want him, and I’m pretty sure he wants me, too, and it’s been so long for both of us, so this is a big deal.

Looking away from him, my fingers tremble slightly as I unlock the door and step inside, turning on the light for us to see. “Welcome to my home,” I say, my tone a little huskier than usual.

He steps inside and looks around. “It’s beautiful.”

My house is much smaller than his, but it’s warm and welcoming. I, too, am a neat freak, and everything has its own place.

I lead him to my kitchen, placing my bag on the marble countertop and turning my coffee machine on. “I don’t like clutter, so there’s not much stuff around.”

“I like it,” he says, coming over to me and brushing my hair back behind my ear. “Are you always so put together?”

I laugh. “No, but I like that I appear that way.”

His kiss catches me off guard—one second I’m smiling, and the next his lips are on mine, and all bets are off. I allow myself to touch him, my fingers wrapping around his neck as I pull him closer. He moans softly, and it turns me on even more. Our bodies press against each other while our lips do the talking, our tongues exploring.

He pulls back and looks at me, scanning my eyes for a second before kissing me again. I lead him to my bedroom, unable to stop kissing him and touching him along the way. He sits down on the edge of my four-poster bed and I straddle his lap. I can feel how hard he is, and how big, and my heart starts to race.

I slowly grind myself against him, and he moans against my lips, his big hands on my hips. His fingers lift up my top, and then undo the clasp of my bra, so I’m sitting half-bare in front of him. He lowers his head and kisses my breasts, licking and gently sucking on my nipples with expertise. I press myself against him, silently asking for more.

“You are so perfect, Nadia,” he whispers against my skin.

I remove his shirt and push him back on the bed, quickly pulling off my jeans, leaving me in just red lace panties. I undo the button of his jeans, and that’s when I notice that he’s just lying there, unmoving. I can almost feel his mind working—he’s in his head, and something isn’t right.

“What’s wrong?” I ask him, moving to lie down next to him. “Trade?”

He rolls to the side to face me. “It’s not you, you are...incredible.”

“But?” I press.

“Ariel was the last person I slept with,” he whispers, swallowing hard, and I suddenly understand why he’s hesitating.

She was the last person he’s been with, and he’s obviously been holding on to that. If we sleep together, he’s letting go of that part of her.

I don’t know how to feel right now. Surely he would have thought about this before we ended up half-naked and ready to sleep with each other. Or maybe he thought he could handle it but couldn’t.

What a mess.

I take a deep breath. “Do you want to go home? We don’t have to do this. Or we can just lie here and go to sleep?”

I take his hand and let him know that it’s okay. I can’t begin to understand how he’s feeling right now. If Ariel wasn’t taken away, he would have been with her for the rest of his life, and we sure as hell wouldn’t be here right now.

But she’s not here. Is he going to be able to accept that, or is he always going to feel guilty for moving on with his life?

It’s in this moment that I truly realize just what I’m up against. Trade comes with baggage, and I’m not even talking about his children. I know it’s not a nice way to put it, but it’s true. Being with him isn’t going to be easy, and it’s going to require a shit load of communication and a lot of patience and understanding.

“I don’t know,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry, Nadia. I thought it would be fine. I didn’t think that...”

“You don’t have to explain,” I reply. “It’s okay.”

He sits up and puts his shirt back on. “I’m going to go. I just need to...think.”

“Okay.”

He kisses the top of my head, and then he’s gone.