Baited

Rebecca

"Is there really any point?" Rebecca huffed as her best friend Trisha stared her down from across the small table. Rebecca glanced around the bar, which was filled with people and buzzing with excitement.

"You're not going to be a killjoy tonight. We're going out this weekend if it kills us. I'm stuck at home with four kids all day, not living the glamorous life of an entrepreneur."

"I'm not sure who sold you that lie, but I've got some oceanfront property in Arizona ..." Rebecca smiled.

The bar was busy, but the restaurant was dead around them, which always seemed to be the case on Thursday nights. Their ritual beer at five was a must-not-miss event and neither of them did, unless death or some other large-scale occurrence called them from it. They'd been friends for as long as Rebecca could remember, and yet she'd never grown tired of sharing life with Trisha.

"What are you thinking? You have that look in your eye."

"What look?" Rebecca held up her empty beer mug, the waiter walking over to pick it up, smiling flirtatiously at them.

"The look that says you're wishing for marriage and babies." Trisha laughed, her eyes moving to follow the server as he left in his tip-collecting jeans.

"Stop staring at him. We could be his mother's age."

Trisha looked back at her and laughed loudly. "That's funny. He's like mid-twenties. What the hell? We'd have to have birthed him when we were ten, for crying out loud." She sat back in her chair, her short blond hair a perfect bob, complementing her cute pixie-like face.

"I was a goodie-goodie in school, but you were a hooker, so you could be his mother. I'm still waiting for Mr. Right."

Rebecca shrugged, smirking as her friend's face changed colors and she started to lay out her opinion for all to hear. The server walked up just in time for Trisha to open her mouth. "You were not a goodie-goodie. Not at all." She looked over at the handsome boy who was holding two beers out for them and reached for one of them, a smile on her face. "Besides, I got married right out of school, but you schlepped it up, remember?"

Rebecca reached for the other beer, shrugging her shoulders, her gaze on the handsome boy before them, who seemed to be quite interested in their conversation. "That's true. I just dropped my last boyfriend because he couldn't keep up with my appetites."

The server visibly swallowed and pulled out a pad of paper, scribbling something before ripping the page off and laying it before her. "Call me."

He walked off and Rebecca bent over in laughter, Trisha following suit.

"Things really never do change, do they?" Trisha asked, finally catching her breath and reaching for her beer.

"When it's still this fun after all these years, why should they?"

They drank their last drink and talked through the events of the week. Trisha focused mostly on family and the house, leaving Rebecca with nothing to add there, but she did pipe up about work and Jason, their rising-star intern, who'd been with the company for about a year now. That conversation left her frustrated and uneasy when Trisha made a few pointed innuendos.

"What's the big deal?" Trisha asked as they walked out to their respective cars, Rebecca's blue Audi parked next to Trisha's beat up red Honda.

"The big deal is that he's twenty-two, Trisha. That's honestly gross."

"The guy at the bar was at least twenty-six. Is there a set age that's okay?"

"Yes, and it's honestly thirty. I'm in my mid-thirties, so the guys I date should be in their thirties too." Rebecca pulled her keys out and hit the fob, the lights coming to life as the car made a sound of awareness.

"I don't think age should matter."

"Well, for me, it does. If I was graduating high school while he was still eating boogers and scraping his knee on the playground, it's not happening."

Trisha shook her head. "Jimmy still scrapes his knee and eats his boogers."

Rebecca laughed and opened the door to her car. "Yes, well, your husband is a special case scenario, obviously."

"I think you should reconsider. Women are in their prime in their thirties and men are asleep on the couch at that age." Trisha shrugged and got into her car, waving and then closing the door.

Rebecca stood there for a minute, thinking through Trisha's words. She looked around and realized that she was asking for trouble standing outside her car at eleven o'clock at night in the middle of a bar parking lot in downtown Houston. She slid in and locked the doors, shivering slightly at the late effects of winter.

"Dating a twenty-two year old. How ridiculous. He probably can't even hold a conversation," she growled, starting the car and cranking up the heater. Lionel Richie's "All Night Long" played from the radio and she laughed. "Of course ... perfect."

The windows defrosted slowly as she moved through the city streets, her apartment sitting in the heart of mid-town, a lively area for young working people, with tons of restaurants and nightlife nestled into the community. Her thoughts moved quickly from her time with Trisha to Jason, her newest and best associate. He was far too young, in her opinion, to be thinking about, and honestly, he wasn't her type at all.

"And what is your type? I mean really ... when was the last time you dated anyone long enough to know your type?"

Kade.

She cringed internally at the thought of his name. Sixteen years had passed since high school, and yet if she had to think back to her type-it was Kade. It always would be. She almost felt sorry for her future husband. She would be comparing him and everyone else to Kade. Kade, the strong football type. The asshole that left her standing alone as he headed for the big life. Hollywood had been so much more important to him than figuring out what was between them. Not that she'd expected him to give up his dreams, but he could have kept in touch-or at least talked to her about it before he left her out in the cold.

"Screw him," she whispered, the pain of rejection still just as ever-present in this moment as it had been all those years ago. Would she ever move past him?

She reached up and pulled the rearview mirror down, looking at herself with a stern glare. "Yes, you will. You need to start dating again, like tomorrow."

She smiled and readjusted the mirror. She wouldn't start dating tomorrow or the next day. Men her age and older were married, and the ones that weren't were single for a damn good reason. It was like hoping to get picked for the kickball team and coming in dead last. It wasn't because the rest of the kids were saving the best for last, it was because you couldn't play the game. So those guys who were still single in their mid-thirties were either duds or were more than happy to forever be playing the game, neither of which appealed to her. That left her looking toward someone in his late twenties or late thirties.

Her mother had married someone eleven years younger when Rebecca's father passed away, leaving Rebecca to call a man only nine years older than her Daddy. He was a great guy and definitely looked older than her mother did, so growing up with him as her father was okay, but marrying someone who went to school the same time as Dad? No thanks.

Rebecca

Rebecca pulled up to the large electronic gate, the apartments looming above her. It wouldn't be long before she'd be in her new house, the builders hopefully sending out the new contractor on Saturday to do a final walk-through of the structure and talk about the design for the pool. If nothing else in her life was working out, at least her house was almost done and her business was booming.

Having graduated at the top of her class from the University of Houston in business, she'd worked for a few accounting firms and gained a reputation for being brilliant, bold and innovative. A few years after working hard for the man and bringing him and all of his good old boys loads of money, she'd left and opened Martin and Co, a company led by a group of hard-working business professionals. She had an MBA and her license in accounting, and Parker, her business partner, had his masters in marketing with a specialization in multi-generational advertising. They were a one-stop shop for business strategy and practicality. It worked well, and they'd grown to be very much like brother and sister, which was nice, since Rebecca had no siblings.

She parked the car on the last level of the garage, the silence greeting her as she slipped out of the car and walked through the cold concrete jungle to the elevator. The best part about living in Houston was that there were always people out and about. It was no New York, but the oil and gas capital of the world was booming with life and not hurting much for business. Now, if only all the other parts of her life could work out. A little adventure and romance wouldn't hurt at all. Or would it?

"I need to get a pet," she mumbled, moving into the cold confines of her one bedroom apartment. The place was decorated in crimson and black, the modern appeal making her feel at home, seeing that her mother's house was very similar in style. She slipped off her black heels at the door, dropping her purse and rolling her shoulders to get her long-sleeved black jacket to release her from its tight hold. A quick reach up to her hair, and the clip was history, half thrown across the room to land amongst the rest of the hair accessories that found their way to the graveyard as she arrived home each day. To say that she wasn't tidy would be a vast understatement, but when you were busy trying to figure out how to rule the world, you didn't have time to clean the house.

The idea of what Kade must look like sixteen years later swirled around in her mind as she moved toward her bedroom, pulling and tugging at various items of clothing until she stood in her undies and bra. Her bookshelf was filled with romance novels aplenty, since reading happened to be her favorite pastime. She loved to dive into a love affair that she figured could only be found in the confines of a book, seeing that her own life showed no possibility of a steamy night to come. She knelt before the tall wooden structure, opening the door to the cabinet at the bottom and pulling out a handful of old yearbooks from high school and junior high. It hadn't been but a few weeks before that she'd been in a similar position, looking for the same picture, and yet she couldn't help herself.

The class of 1993 yearbook was the prized book, their senior year giving her the most grown up version of Kade. There was something so very wrong about staring at an eighteen-year-old boy, but she'd been eighteen back then too. She brushed her thumb across the picture of them together, her smiling at the camera and him looking at her with a goofy grin. She smiled, unable to help herself. They'd been best friends, but there was always something more to it. She'd never really given anyone else the time of day, and the two of them had been to almost every dance together, though she'd been asked by other boys. Kade had dated some, but always returned to her so that they could spend the weekends holed up at one of their houses, talking, swimming, biking, whatever, as long as they were together.

But nothing ever came of it. She tried to think back on why for the hundred millionth time and came to the same conclusion she always did. He hadn't been interested in her the way she was in him. Why else would he not have made a move? He wasn't shy, and even though he was brilliant, he still played football and hung out with all of the meatheads at school. He was a well-rounded guy, the guy that everyone loved and wanted to be around. He was talented in sports, and yet he could play the guitar and sing like an angel.

Why had he never asked her out?

She bent over, yelping softly as the cold book touched her exposed skin. She'd been pretty back then, nothing to gawk at, but definitely pretty. She brushed her fingers over the picture once more and closed the book, sighing heavily and putting her treasures back where they belonged. Why would forever be the question.

She moved to her knees and then stood, using the bookshelf in front of her to assist her. A groan lifted from her lips, her body sore from the long day and the unusually long evening with Trisha. It was just after eleven, and she would normally have been in bed for more than an hour by now. She slipped into her pj's, promising herself that she'd wake up extra early and shower in the morning. Doubtful.

The darkness tucked in around her, and she let herself imagine a more grown up Kade, his body filled out, with strong muscles cording down his arms and down the length of his back. His sandy brown hair was a little long, his smile still wide and welcoming, and his sky blue eyes were filled with promises she could only hope to enjoy. She chuckled at herself as the visions of a first date, their wedding day and a white picket fence swam through her mind's eye.

"Slow down there ... you haven't even found him again." Found him again?

Was she going to look for him? No, she couldn't do that. That would appear desperate, and if she were being honest with herself, she knew he was most likely happily married to some hippy chick he'd met in California, and they probably had a band and a house and four boys they were raising.

She exhaled slowly, her mind moving through various scenarios fast enough to give her heartburn. If he was in the world somewhere, one thing was for sure, she needed to find him. Rebecca just needed to know why he never saw her the way she saw him. She needed to see him to make sure that whatever had existed between them, at least in her mind, was gone.

Then she could get on with her life. Then she could date other guys and not compare them to Kade. He hadn't been a part of her existence for sixteen years, and yet he was still haunting her almost daily. She turned onto her side and tried to swallow the sadness that moved in swiftly and hung over her. She just wanted to be happy. To have a husband and a few kids, like all her friends did. Here she was, mid-thirties and still single, with no romantic prospects.

"Pathetic," she whispered as a tear fell onto her waiting pillow.

Rebecca

"There you are. I was starting to think someone snatched you up at the bar last night, but then I remembered that Trisha was there." Parker looked up from the reception area as Rebecca rushed in, out of breath.

She stopped and let her briefcase land in a nearby plush crimson chair, their waiting room quite impressive for the small operation they ran. Appearances were everything, or so Parker always reminded her.

"I got home late last night and meant to shower and didn't, so I promised myself I'd get up this morning-"

He cut her off. "But you didn't, or you did, but late."

She rolled her eyes, collected her bag and walked toward her office, the small hall that led from the front lobby to all of the offices decorated in St. Patrick's Day paraphernalia. "Is our receptionist missing in action too?"

"She quit."

"She what?" Rebecca slipped into her small office, depositing her stuff and walking back out to stand beside Parker. She put her hands on her hips, her black pencil skirt getting a little snug, which meant less beer and more treadmill.

"You heard me. She called in this morning and quit."

"Why? She's the third one in the last few months. Why on earth would someone not want to work here?" She threw her hands in the air to accentuate how ridiculous the situation was getting.

"It's because we don't pay enough and"-he lifted his finger in the air, stopping her from making a quick rebuttal-"... and because we don't offer a gym membership or a housing allowance."

"Housing allowance? We're not a freaking church, and we don't have a parsonage. Even if we did, you and I would be the ones living there. We're the bosses!"

He laughed and shook his head. "Yes, we are, but calm down. It really isn't that big of a deal. It's unfortunate, but we'll find another one. We always do."

"We need to hire someone who has a more professional demeanor this time. The women we've had up here have been ridiculous, always filing their nails or bitching on the phone. This is a professional environment, and we need someone who can put that image forward. There are plenty of qualified women out there ... or maybe we should even consider hiring a man."

"You called for a man?" Jason walked down the hall, the young man smiling like a tomcat.

Rebecca stifled the need to roll her eyes; his perfectly starched navy suit fit him well and his brown hair was combed in a very businesslike manner. He really was the epitome of professionalism, but he was young, and his innocence sat on him like a bright neon sign.

She pointed to the chair just behind Parker and smiled at Jason. "I did call. You've been promoted."

His eyebrows lifted as he moved a few feet from her, wise enough to leave some distance between them. "Oh yeah? To what?"

"To receptionist." She smiled back and reached for Parker, grabbing his arm and tugging him toward her office before Jason could throw in a rebuttal.

"He can't be the receptionist, Becca. He's taking the last part of his CPA exam. He's brilliant and answering the ph-"

She put her finger to his face, her expression filled with the angst that pulsed through her. "Shut it. I know he's not the new receptionist. I was just getting him to fill in until you and I can find someone else. He's going to be great for this firm, and you need to find him a girlfriend."

"A girlfriend? He doesn't have one?"

"I don't think so, but you need to get busy locating one."

"And why would I need to do that?"

"Help him settle down a little. He needs a reason to stick around the area, otherwise he'll be off to bigger and better things as soon as he finishes that exam."

She glared at her partner as he leaned back out of her office door, his eyes gazing out into the lobby. "He's such a good looking kid. He's got everything going for him. What woman wouldn't want that?" He gave her a pointed stare.

She crossed her arms over her chest and growled softly. "Me. I don't want that."

He laughed and moved into the office, closing the door behind him and sitting down in the open chair in front of her desk. "Oh, that's right. You'd rather not have anyone. What was I thinking?"

"I'm not in the mood." Rebecca dropped her arms, walked to her chair and sat down, turning to poke at various buttons on her computer to bring it to life.

"You're never in the mood. Here you are, trying to get me to hook up the twenty-two-year-old kid in our lobby with someone, and you're headed into your forties and not even looking."

"Forties?" She looked over at him and gasped at his words. She was only thirty-four. Surely you had to at least be thirty-seven to be on the downhill slide to forty, but there was no reasoning with him. He was right, of course, but she'd rather dunk her head in acid with her mouth opened than tell him that.

"You know what I mean." He huffed and slouched in his chair. "Becca, you're beautiful and successful. A million great guys would be knocking down your door if you'd just let them."

She turned back to her computer, wanting to be done with the conversation that they seemed to have every other day. "I'm not stopping anyone from knocking down my door."

"Yes you are."

She looked over to glare at him with pseudo-intensity. "Name one guy I'm stopping."

"Jason." Parker laughed and covered his face with his hands, and Rebecca grabbed a rubber band and let it loose in his direction.

"Find him a girl. Now."

"Why not give the guy a chance?"

"The boy."

"He's in his twenties, Becca. He's not a boy, he's a man."

"He's a boy. Get out. I have things to do."

"And I don't?" Parker stood, feigning hurt feelings.

She smiled over at him and nodded. "You sure do. You have a boy who needs help finding a girl."

He nodded and opened the door. "You're right, and I have just the girl for him."

She stopped what she was doing, a little surprised by his sudden moment of clarity. "You do? Who?"

He laughed and moved into the hallway. "You."