Mr. Imperfect

chapter 30



“Knock, knock,” Fredrik’s coy voice called out as he poked his head in Rori’s front door. “I heard an anti-social artist lives here?”

Rori sent him a smile and motioned him in. “You’ll thank me when it comes time for the exhibit and I have actual pieces to show.”

He stepped into her flat, his professional clothes exchanged for the rockabilly fashion he preferred. “There is that. But, my dear, it is the weekend. Time to unwind. To let loose. To imbibe with the natives. Surely your worldly travels have taught you at least that much.”

Rori taped another photo to the wall. “As fun as that sounds, I need to work on my theme.”

“Nuh-huh,” he drawled, coming closer. “Is that why the wall looks like I sublet this apartment to a teenage girl going through a hormonal phase?”

Rori narrowed her eyes playfully. “You’d be wise to think twice before poking fun at a hormonal girl.”

“Preaching to the choir, girl,” Fredrik said, taking a closer look at the wall and honing in on the picture of Mike, Luke, and Kris that Rori had printed off. He pulled it from the wall. “Yummy. Anyone you know?”

“Yes. The guys are all straight, though, sorry to say.”

Fredrik wiggled his eyebrows. “Everyone says that… until they don’t.”

“Uh-uh,” Rori said, snatching the picture away and putting it back on the wall. “We straight girls have to keep a few of the hotties for ourselves. Besides,” she pointed to Luke and Kris. “These two are getting married.”

“And the other?” He pantomimed a gasp. “No, don’t tell me this is the boy who has you twitchy!”

The question caught her off guard, and Rori’s hesitation to answer became her answer.

“Mmmm. It is. Sexy!”

“He is that,” she conceded. It would be beyond futile for her not to acknowledge Mike’s looks to a gay man. “And he’s coming to the exhibit. I was going to talk to you about that, actually. He’s a videographer and he wants to film the event so he can turn it into a working vacation of sorts.”

Fredrik looked back at the photo. “And if I say ‘no’ he won’t come?”

“No. He only comes to work—and I want him to come because I want to sculpt him.”

He let out a little hmmph. “Well, tie my hands why, don’t you? Normally I would quash that idea real quick, but,” his bottom lip puckered out. “He’s so cute.”

“Your call,” Rori said. “It hadn’t occurred to me that it might be an issue, but if it is, I’ll let him know the offer is off the table.”

Fredrik arched an eyebrow at her, his look coy. “Not going to fight for him, hmm? Well, that’s interesting. But don’t worry. No fight required. I already decided to green light him. He and his fine ass are in. And you’re going out tonight. I won tonight’s wager in the gallery by betting that the artist and his mother-in-law had a thing on the side. I’ve got money to burn, and I want to burn it on you, my little minx.”

“Don’t you mean you want me to be your wingwoman and help you find a man to burn the money on?”

“Potato, potatoe,” he said dismissively.

Rori couldn’t help but smile. “I’m on a roll here, Fredrik. Perhaps tomorrow?”

He clucked his tongue at her. “And tomorrow you’ll say you’ll go out next week? I don’t think so, honey. We’re leaving in an hour, so get ready.”

Rori opened her mouth to retort when Fredrik cut her off.

“Don’t even try it, sweetie. You can’t create an exhibit about ‘connecting’ by staying in every night. You do it by going out and connecting.”

It was hard to argue with that logic.

“And speaking of connecting, girl, when was the last time you—” His hands made a suggestive gesture. “Connected?”

Rori rolled her eyes. “None of your business.”

“That long, hmm?”

Yes, that long, but she didn’t need to give him specifics. “I’ve been busy.”

“Girl, there’s no such thing as being too busy to share a bed at bed time.”

That got a laugh out of her. “Oh, Freddy. If only it were that uncomplicated.”

“It can be if you let it,” he flirted back before giving her arm a light tap. “How long? Seriously. I need to know what I’m working with here.”

“How about I just let you assume whatever you like, and we drop the subject?”

“It’s not that easy, my pretty.”

Rori was about to reply that it was as easier than sharing a bed when her phone rang. Sweet escape. “I need to get this,” she announced before picking up the phone and seeing she’d just gone from bad to worse.

“Yeah?” Fredrik teased. “Who is it?”

Rori hesitated, wanting to reject the call. But no, she should answer. “It’s your boy crush,” she said. “Can you give me a minute?”

His face lit up. “Oh, by all means! But I’ll be back in an hour. Don’t think I won’t.”

“Understood,” she said before hitting answer and bringing the phone to her ear. “Hello, Mike.”

“Rori. Hi. Did I catch you at a good time?”

“As good as any,” Rori replied, watching Fredrik slip out her front door, somehow taking her bravado with him. Why was her heart pounding like she was in a race? “I have a few minutes.”

“Oh, good. I’ll try not to take much of your time then. I just had a few logistical questions about September that you may or may not have the answer to. I’m already booked through those dates, so I need to figure what days I need to arrange backups for.”

There was something oddly clinical about his voice. Something… professional. And while appropriate for the conversation at hand, it also irked a bit, considering Rori’s palms were sweating.

“By all means, don’t cancel any of your appointments on my behalf—”

“Oh, I’m happy to,” he said over her. “Trust me. A guy can only do so many weddings before he goes into a coma. New York will be a welcome change of pace. I just need to know how many days I should be there.”

Again, no hint of anything personal in his voice. Nothing that said, Do you remember the heat you and I shared without even touching? I do. How many nights do you want me in your bed when I come? “The day of the event should be fine, I think.”

“Actually, I thought it would be fun to capture the take down of the existing exhibit and film yours going up. It would make some nice B-roll.”

B-roll? Rori didn’t even know what that was, and she wasn’t really in the mood to ask either. “Well, I would need to ask Fredrik about that, but I believe that have the hall closed for the three days before the exhibit. So sometime in that time frame, I would assume.”

“Okay, so I should fly in Tuesday night and out on Sunday?”

“I’m sure that would be more than adequate.”

“Perfect. I’ll pencil that in then, and let you go. I’m sure I interrupted something.”

Rori looked at her wall, and more specifically, the picture of Mike sitting on the floor with the little flower girl. “Just trying to plan out my show. Figuring out what existing pieces I can bring in and what I need to create.”

“Say no more,” he chuckled. “I totally understand and I’ll let you get to it. Thanks for sparing a minute.”

A minute, indeed. Almost to the second. “Not at all,” she said and seconds later he was gone.

What the hell was that? Not even a How are you? No questions about what her show would be about or even a passing mention of, well, anything? True, she dreaded making small talk with him, but the fact that he hadn’t even tried was even more annoying than any awkward conversation might have been where he actually acted like he cared about her as person.

In all her days she’d never had a more sterile, impersonal conversation, and for some reason that infuriated her. Here she’d been fantasizing about the guy—even going so far as to imagine how he would be as a father—and he doesn’t even try to talk to her for more than a minute?

Suddenly Rori had absolutely no desire to work. Fredrik was right. She needed to get out. To connect with men who would fight for her number and who weren’t afraid to lean in and kiss when the moment was right.

Tossing her phone on the couch, Rori went to get changed.