The Cruel and Beautiful Series Boxset

by A. M. Hargrove

  Jeff comes in my open door and I wished I’d closed it.

  “What the hell did you say to her?”

  He’s not my boss. “She’s sick spewing all her germs all over the office. She needs to go home. I can’t afford to get sick.”

  That last part is true. The rest I said to save face. Jeff leaves shaking his head and I get back to work. The Sadlers want a five-year plan of how we can invest their money to get them the greatest return. The husband is more conservative than the wife. She, however, is the one with the family money. We are competing with one of the big nationwide firms. I have to prove that going local and having a relationship is better than calling and talking to a nameless person anytime they need to discuss their accounts.

  “How’s it going?”

  My sleeves are rolled up because I’ve been at it all day. I glance up from my desk and see Dad in my doorway.

  “Good. I think I have the right mix,” I say confidently.

  “Can you present it to me in the conference room?”

  I nod. “Give me five.”

  An hour later, I leave with my father’s approval. Jeff and Mark are waiting for me in my office.

  “You look like you need a drink,” Jeff says.

  “Or get laid? What happened to Karen?” Mark asks.

  I grab my jacket. “Let’s get a drink.” I avoid the Karen question.

  Somehow she’d wormed her way into my life and acted like a girlfriend. How had I let that happen?

  “You guys going out?”

  We turn and find several of our female co-workers standing around. Jeff is quick to answer. “Yeah, sure.”

  We walk to a bar not too far from the office. Jeff is not very discriminating and spends most of his time hitting on anything that moves. His taste is female; shape and size don’t matter.

  “I think I’m going to head home.” I’ve had several drinks and although I’m not drunk, I do feel a slight buzz.

  “Wait, Lisa is into you, man. I’m telling you she’s a sure thing.”

  Lisa is cute and the one who asked to come along. “I don’t screw women I work with.” I’m firm on that. The last thing I need is for some female to be pissed and be able to show me her displeasure every day.

  I wave everyone goodbye and see Lisa poke her lip out. My dick needs service, but I’m not that desperate.

  When I make it home, I have a visitor waiting.

  “Karen,” I say.

  “Ben. I think I left my earrings here.”

  I sigh, not wanting to be a prick. “Okay.”

  She doesn’t bring up the hundred and one text messages she’s sent over the past week and neither do I. I unlock the door and almost put my keys in the bowl when I shove them in my pocket instead.

  “Where do you think you left them?”

  When I turn around, I find her naked from the waist up, dangling her top from her finger. There is no time to react before she’s on me.

  “Ben, we are so good together.”

  As much as I don’t want Karen, my body reacts remembering what it was like to be inside her. The alcohol flowing in my veins convinces me it wasn’t all bad when we were together. And I haven’t gotten laid in what amounts to a long time for me, which explains why I’m succumbing to her come on.

  “Karen—”

  Her lips are on mine and her hand grips my cock through my pants. I groan, because that’s all it takes to go from zero to a hard on.

  Samantha’s face flashes in my head for a second, which only adds fuel to my sex-starved dick. But I hardly know her and she doesn’t seem like she’s going to let me touch her any time soon. So what the hell? And if I make Karen leave, I’ll be forced to remember how lonely this house feels sometimes. And I don’t want that. I need the distraction. I need to forget if only for this night. The alcohol and Karen win.

  I wake the next morning with a warm body at my back and regret sucker punching my gut. Fuck. Why the hell did I do that?

  “Hey, you need to go.”

  “Huh?” Karen murmurs.

  “I’ve got to get to work and you need to leave.”

  “But—”

  “You came here for a fuck and you got one. Now it’s time for you to go. And do me a favor – stop texting me. And stop running to my mom and crying on her shoulder. This isn’t her business.”

  Her mouth drops. “You—”

  I shake my head. “When I get out of the shower, I want you gone.”

  My pants are on the floor and I scoop them up. My keys are still inside and I hope like hell she isn’t the crazy type to carry a bar of soap or some modeling clay in her purse to make a mold of them, but I’m not taking any chances.

  Thankfully, she takes the hint. She’s gone when I get out, which is good because that whole sexcapade has left a sour taste in my mouth. I should have left Karen a long time ago. Or not gotten involved with her in the first place. And I know better than to mess with Samantha. She’s a good girl, not the kind that needs a fuckup like me. I should walk away from her and leave her unmolested. But just thinking her name stirs my dick to life as if I hadn’t screwed Karen the night before.

  Too bad I don’t own a crystal ball. If I did, I might have skipped the rest of the week, which sucked ass. To top it off, today is a day from fucking hell. My head throbs migraine style from what I did with Karen. You would think she would have given up by now, but she hasn’t. My phone lights up like lightning strikes from all of her texts. And Dad has been all over my ass, trying to get the Sadler account locked up. I’ve worked like a fiend, not even stopping for lunch. Undoubtedly, that only adds to the cleaving sensation in my head.

  Late that night, when I finally get ready to leave the office I recall that the firm has committed to playing in one of those fund-raising golf tournaments on Thursday. Normally, I am all in for these. But the way I’m feeling and my burgeoning workload, I’d rather crawl in a cave and avoid contact with anyone. But that isn’t in the cards. So the next day, I find myself at the golf course, bright and early with my plastic happy smile fastened on my face. Dad loves these things for entertaining and increasing awareness of our firm. I’m normally for it too—except for today.

  When I finish registering, I look up and wouldn’t you know it, my eyes land on a perfect set of tanned legs that go on for days. Samantha stands in a pair of white shorts that meet a plain golf shirt with what is probably her company’s logo emblazoned on her chest. What I wouldn’t do to be that logo. Damn, she looks good enough to eat. Thankfully, she hasn’t seen me yet, so like a stalker I watch her work. It isn’t long before a couple of other girls with the same visors on stride over to her. They must be her employees as she shows them something on her clipboard. Moments later, they hop in separate golf carts and drive off, leaving her alone.

  There are several things I could do, like go over and talk to her. Instead, I watch as a man approaches her. I know the asshole. He’s the fly that buzzes around honey when he finds it. This time he’s got the wrong woman. I shake my head as the smooth talking lawyer whose reputation with women is worse than my own moves into her space. I wonder what she would do if I intervened on her behalf and saved her from a guy who would only want to add her to his stats. Shit, what the hell is wrong with me? I have no right to her. So reluctantly, I turn away to grab my golf bag and roughly cram it on the cart.

  “Easy with that, dude. What are you trying to do? Wreck your bag or something?” Jeff’s comments break through my angry thoughts.

  I let go of it and glance up.

  “I don’t know. Guess I’m not really into this today.” My eyes betray me and find my target like a heat seeking missile. Several other lechers approach Samantha. Irrationally, I have a quick notion to go over like a dog and piss on her so they would stay the hell away from her. It’s as if they sense her sweetness, and like fucking ants, they’re crawling all over her.

  “…and I think we can be in the money. So you in?”

  “Huh?” I’ve barely heard
Jeff because I haven’t stopped staring long enough to focus on anything coming out of his mouth.

  “What the hell, man? I just gave you my entire strategy on how we can win some change today in this thing. Are you hung over or something?”

  Finally, I give up on staring because she hasn’t once turned in my direction, and I face him.

  “Or something.”

  He raises a finger in the air like he’s figured it out. I wait for it.

  “Oh, I get it. Knocked you off a piece last night, did ya?”

  Jeff is clueless. Drew would have called me out by now.

  “Something like that,” I say drolly before checking out the peanut gallery waiting for a chance at Samantha.

  “She’s hot. But don’t bother. She’s colder than dry ice.”

  Suddenly, he has my full attention.

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  He holds up his hands. “Dude, she’s like everywhere and she shoots guys down faster than a gunslinger.”

  I glance over at her and it doesn’t look like she’s shooting anyone down.

  “You look like you could use a drink. Let’s go get you a beer. I could use one myself. I hope they have my favorite IPA,” Jeff suggests. His eyes trail over to the drink cart girl and it all makes sense. Even though it’s the last thing I want, I’ve dug myself in a hole so I don’t have much choice. We walk over and I watch Jeff in action as he tries his best to get the phone number from the girl manning the cart who looks barely legal. After I get a drink in my hand, I stew while finishing it off. I have to admit, I actually feel a little calmer.

  “So, we probably should head out. You ready?” he asks.

  I check my sheet and say, “Yeah, let’s roll.”

  We load up in the cart and make our way to the first hole. The course is covered in people and well stocked with refreshments every third or fourth hole. By the time we get to the tee, I’m ready to swing. Everything’s going great until we get to hole number five. That’s where I spot her again. One of the golfers is blatantly flirting with her, and she’s doing nothing to stop it. I stand with clenched fists and want to throw my driver at the two of them. Or better yet, I’d like to use his head as my golf ball. Jesus, calm down, Benjamin. Get your shit together. They’re just talking and the guy looks ninety years old.

  Giving my head a good hard shake, I turn away and decide it’s not helping to look at her. Instead, I tee up my ball and take a swing.

  “Damn, dude, are you trying to destroy the ball?” Jeff asks. “What the fuck is up with you today?”

  The ball spins wildly as I slice the hell out of it. It flies right and barely goes anywhere but curves severely into the rough. My yardage is so ridiculously short that I want to crawl under the cart. The urge to throw my club hits, only I don’t want to look worse than I already do.

  Jeff takes his turn and he ends up perfectly positioned in the middle of the fairway. We go to hunt my crazy ball in the tall grass and my next shot sucks eggs too. The rest of my game doesn’t fare any better because at every bend in the course, it seems Samantha is there. I do my best to ignore her, but it’s next to impossible. She, however, hasn’t noticed me once. So why do I keep noticing her?

  By the time we finish up, I’m sure I’m bald. I’ve yanked out every hair in my head and need to pound some straight bourbon. And I rarely drink bourbon. Suffice it to say, we didn’t win a dime, and Jeff is not happy. I promise to buy him a bottle of 16-year-old Lagavulin to make it up to him. Thank God he didn’t ask for Pappy Van Winkle. That could’ve set me back a cool grand.

  If not for the Sadler account final test run presentation with my dad, I would have worked from home the next day. As it is, everyone gives me a hard time about all my triple and quadruple bogeys.

  By the time we call it a day, I’m ready for a Friday night out with Jeff and Mark. We’re walking to the bar and Mark is mid rant over his ex and her new guy when I spot a familiar face. She’s more gorgeous than she was yesterday. I scrub my face with my palm and wonder why I thought anyone could be better.

  Then, the crowd parts and I see a blond guy with his arm slung over Samantha’s shoulder. Their smiles make mine falter. When her eyes start to shift in my direction, I force mine forward.

  “I’m telling you she yodels, not screams,” Jeff says.

  Mark glances at me because Jeff and his stories. And I realize I’ve missed a chunk of the conversation because Mark is now mute and Jeff is spewing the tale of his latest conquest.

  “It’s true. Every time I’d hit the spot, she’d yodel, no lie.” When we don’t remark, he adds, “She has a couple of friends,” as if that sweetens whatever pot he’s boiling.

  Mark again looks to me and I shrug. What the fuck am I saving myself for? Samantha is busy all right. She hadn’t mentioned she had a date for this evening. I don’t know why I’m pissed. I barely know her and I screwed Karen the other night. Only I can’t stop myself from glancing over my shoulder. She and the guy are heading into a restaurant. The view of Samantha from behind makes me want to claim her. And the asshole she’s with has his proprietary hand around her waist. Who is he to her? If I were a betting man, I would say he’s more than just a date. His territorial arm circling her is the first clue. The fact that she isn’t shrugging him off is the second. A boyfriend maybe? Well, fuck her.

  Jeff makes the call and we head over to his place. Mark doesn’t seem sure, so I get the drinks flowing to loosen his morals and forget his soon-to-be ex. When his phone rings with Big Sean’s “I Don’t Fuck With You,” I have to laugh knowing Jeff has changed Mark’s ringtone for the guy’s ex. Mark looks horrified and ready to snatch his phone. Jeff’s there and tosses it to me. We manage to hide it from him and pussy him into drinking until he’s lit. When the doorbell chimes, I have to admit any woman who walks through the door would look good to me. I’m that far gone.

  A brunette, a blonde, and a ginger saunter in like the beginning of a bad joke. They are more Jeff’s speed than mine. But what do I care? Pussy is pussy and I want to bury myself in one and forget the honey-haired beauty.

  “Hey,” the blonde waves.

  I don’t waste time. “Ben,” I say, introducing myself.

  Her breasts look perfect, which is a bonus. The way she smirks when I meet her eyes and the way she curls her finger at me say she’s down for anything.

  The absinthe I had must have been more potent than I thought, because I keep seeing Samantha’s face overlaying the blonde’s as I move closer. When she shifts her hand to the front of my pants, my dick isn’t confused and won’t play nice as much as I want it to. I don’t even have to say no for her to realize it isn’t happening tonight.

  Mark’s passed out and Jeff has disappeared. The two remaining girls end up leaving shortly after. And who the fuck knew I could turn down two girls? Something is seriously wrong with me. After I make sure Mark is on his side on the couch, I head out. Only, I’m not ready to go home and face all the shit in my head. So as I walk down the street, I pull out my phone prepared to see if Jenna or Cate are home. When I glance up, Samantha stands fifty feet in front of me … without the asshole.

  Six

  SAM

  THE SHOWER SCREAMS MY NAME after the golf tournament and I can’t get there quick enough. By the time I finish, Lauren is waiting for me.

  “Can I grab you a beer?”

  “Ahh, that sounds perfect. I’m wiped.”

  “Berkeley said it was awesome and that you killed it.”

  Tipping the beer bottle back, I let its icy contents cool my parched throat. “I hope so. I couldn’t have done it without their help. They were awesome. But that’s another reason I wanted to get involved with the fundraiser. Well, helping them raise money, but also getting The Right Affairs’ name out there.”

  “Looks like it was a win-win for you.” Lauren picks up her beer and we clank bottles. “Here’s to more success for you, roomie.”

  “I’ll drink to that any day.”
>
  After she swallows, she says, “You do realize you’ll have to hire someone again.”

  “Yeah. I think I’m going to contact the college and see if I could hire a couple of paid interns. That would help a lot of people out. The students, the college, and me.”

  “You know, that’s a great idea.”

  “That’s on my checklist for tomorrow.”

  “Along with your hot date with Trevor, huh?” Lauren’s eyebrows waggle.

  “Oh, crap. I’d almost forgotten.” My head starts to throb a little. After Monday night, Trevor is the last thing on my mind.

  “I don’t understand you. The guy looks like Chris Hemsworth and you want to blow him off,” Lauren huffs.

  “I don’t want to blow him off.” I know I don’t sound very convincing. It’s as though I’m trying to convince myself.

  “What’s the deal here, Sam?”

  “You know the deal.”

  “No, I don’t. A week ago, you were willing to give it a go with him. Now you’re as cold as a washed up fish on the beach.”

  I fall back on the couch. “I don’t knowwww! I thought I wanted to try. But then when I saw him Saturday and he stealth-kissed me, there really wasn’t anything there. Nothing. Nada. And I mean not even the teeniest of tingles. And I used to think he was Steamy Dreamy Trevor.”

  She leans over me and grabs a wad of my T-shirt. “You swear to me this has nothing to do with your Produce God?”

  “Ugh. I don’t know.” I groan, loud and not so proud.

  Her fist eases up on my shirt. “Okay, why don’t you look at it this way? You have no commitment to Trevor. Go out and have fun. Even if it goes nowhere, at least you got a free dinner and were seen out and about. If and when you see Produce God again, you can decide if he was worth the wait. Then you have your answer. But in the meantime, don’t burn your bridges with Trevor. At least if Produce God doesn’t work out, you won’t be left high and dry.”

  “Damn, you’re a schemer.”

  “Not really. I just like to leave all my options open.”

  I tap my finger against my cheek. “You know what you have that I don’t?” That question gets a deep chuckle out of her. For that, I clobber her with a pillow. “Stop being so dirty-minded.”