Thank you to my intrepid beta readers, NellyMcBoatFace and Bookwormmom who provided some critical suggestions and hopefully made this a smoother read.
This is a slow burn story and takes a while to build up. I'll understand if that is not your thing, and you move onto something else. There is an important character under the age of eighteen in this story. It is sort of hard to write a story about a young single mom and not have her munchkin in it. But don't worry, when we do get to the adult play time in later chapters, the little one will be safely tucked into her bed while the grownups play. These are responsible adults after all.
This story is dedicated to all the single mom's out there who struggle to take care of their babies. Please, if you know of one, give her a hug for me, will you? And if you can, help them take a step up?
Chapter One
Whitney
What was I doing here? Grabbing my glass of wine, I slunk into my chair. Like my thoughts, the last of the red liquid swirled around the glass. I looked around the museum. Many of my coworkers were gazing at the various airplanes and other aviation memorabilia. For them it was just another company holiday party, but this was to be my last with this accounting firm. I had enjoyed working with most of the people of the firm, and some were literally family. I had put my notice in a few weeks back, although it had not been unexpected. I had planned out my long-term career path long ago, and this was just a steppingstone to my eventual destination. That adventure would start with the new year.
"Come on Whit, let's get another drink and take a walk around." Molly, my best friend from work, ok, my best friend anywhere, was tugging at my sleeve.
"Alright, alright, I'm coming," I mumbled. I knew full well that if I didn't, she would keep nagging me until I did. As I stood, I tugged at my little black dress, pulling it down. It was riding up above mid-thigh. Why did I wear this? Ugh, so stupid. It just attracts the wrong attention. At least it's a long sleeve on a cold December's evening.
Approaching the bar tender's cart, I found Molly was there already and handed me another glass of red wine. My short friend gave me a once over.
"It is so not fair Whit, I am so envious of you." Her hand was rubbing up and down my arm. I could feel her finger trace the floral lace pattern of the sleeve. "You can wear just about anything and make it look stunning." Smirking, I nodded my head. Yeah, I knew that. I was blessed. My long legs, made even longer with my three-inch heels, were the best part in my book. Although I knew most guys noticed my chest first. Not that I wanted any attention from them. I've been fending them off since I was sixteen.
Molly hooked her arm in mine and pulled me towards some display. Pretending to read something about how Boeing and United Airlines were part of the same company in the 1920s. I sipped my wine. Not bad for a corporate gig. I had been to many dinners, conferences, and receptions in my five years with Mitchell & Lombardi LLC, one of the premier local CPA firms here in Seattle. Most of the time the wine was some mass market stuff, but this was from a local boutique winery, who just so happened to be a new firm client.
A small fist slugged me in the arm. "You haven't heard a word I said, have you Whitney Mitchell?"
"Huh? Uh sorry, Molly. What were you saying?" I looked at her a bit sheepishly.
"I was saying you should consider broadening your horizons. When was the last time you got laid? Like a year ago? If you would just open up your field a bit, there are a bunch of guys out there who would love a chance at the managing partner's daughter."
"Come on Molly, how long have you known me? Freshman year of college? Penises just don't do it for me. Strictly girls here, and if only you opened your horizons up for once, I'd have you seeing stars, babe." We had been like this since they assigned us as roommates at the U. She was straight as a pin; I was anything but. How and why we gelled was beyond anyone's guess. But there was no tearing us apart. We had been there for each other, through thick and thin. Through the exciting times such as career milestones and finding a new love, or the horrible moments when life kicked one of us in the teeth. I had been there when Michael dumped her for some softball player, and she had picked up the pieces when my Heather had suddenly left.
"So, Dylan over there does nothing for you?" She giggled as we watched one of guys from tax waving his arms around telling some story to his buddies. "You know he has the hots for you."
"Nope, nothing." I shrugged. "I can respect that he is attractive. I can see that. Fit, tall, well spoken, yadda, yadda, yadda. But yeah, nothing in my panties. You two would actually go well together."
"Um, maybe," Her facial expression and twirling of her hair belied her true opinion. "So, what does it for you? See anything out there?" We were standing on an upper concourse of the museum, looking down at where all the tables had been set up for dinner. A small string ensemble was playing in the corner, providing some holiday ambiance to the otherwise technology-oriented aviation museum. I scanned around the room. Knowing that none of my coworkers did a thing for me, I focused on the catering staff, one of whom had caught my eye earlier.
"There," spotting one of the catering staffers, a girl refilling waters at the table next to ours. "Look at her. The dirty blonde with a tight butt. Now that, I could take home." A deft flick of her wrist tucked a wisp of her wavy blond locks behind her ear. Inside me, butterflies took flight.
"Really, Whit? You could do so much better than her. She's just a catering staffer. Come on, your dad owns the best CPA firm in the Puget Sound and your mom, well, if there wasn't a better power couple not in technology in this town, I don't know who is."
"Hey, you asked me what did it for me. As in physical. Yeah, she is the type. That little wave in the hair. Fuck, I'm getting turned on just thinking about her."
"I'll never understand you, Whit." She put her arm around me and gave me a hug. Ok, the Catering Girl was the second-best person in the room. I knew Molly and I could never be a thing, and I wouldn't push it. Her friendship meant too much to me. Physically, she wasn't what I normally went for. Short and I guess you would say pudgy. I once punched a guy in a bar who called her dumpy. He might have been right, but you don't say that about a lady. But she was my best friend, and I'll defend her until the end. I let out a long sigh and had another sip of wine.
"Come on Molls, let's head back to the table. I think it is about time for some food." Meandering our way back, I stopped at the bar cart and got another refill on wine. The food was excellent, as usual, like the wine, courtesy of another client. Nothing like having a local high-end restaurant conglomerate in the portfolio. We always ate well at office functions. This year, the salmon and roast beast were excellent.
The Catering Girl came and cleared my plate, and I looked around the room. Figuring I had at least ten minutes before dad launched into his usual Holiday party speech, I slipped out and found the washroom.
*CRASH*
As I returned from the washroom, I watched as one of the partners from audit, totally engrossed on his phone, bumped into Catering Girl. Her tray of dirty plates went all over the place.
"Watch where you are going, will ya?" The contempt in his voice lingered long after the smell of his bad cologne dissipated. I've always hated him, never knowing how or why he made partner. Catering Girl let out a big sigh as she attempted to dissipate her frustration at my soon to be former colleague and set her tray on the floor to pick up the pieces. I bent down and helped her collect the dishes back on her tray. It was uncomfortable in these heels, but the smile I got back when our eyes met, was reward enough.
"Thanks, you didn't have to help, but I appreciate it." Fuck, that smile made me all gooey inside. It's been a long time since another woman did that to me so fast.
"Well, we're not all assholes like him." I pointed with my thumb over my shoulder in his general direction. Her giggle in response was sweet. I watched her pick the tray and sling it on her shoulder.
"Thanks again." She headed off through a service hallway, back to where the catering crew was working. It was hard not to drool over her tight ass in those black jeans and black tee shirt. The only part of her outfit that was not all black was the white stripe on her Vans. Oh, how I would love to wrap my arms around that tonight and run my fingers through that blond shoulder length hair. But she appeared eager to get back to the kitchen, so I headed back to my chair.
