Just What I Needed

by Lorelei James

  Sixteen

  WALKER

  Normally after a bad day on the job, or on all the job sites like today, I’d go to the gym to relieve my frustration on the treadmill, in the weight room or in a CrossFit session. If that didn’t appeal to me, I’d see if my brothers or cousins wanted to spar and grapple. Then again, it’d been almost a year since any of them had time to do a little ground and pound. If I dwelled on that, it was liable to make me pissier yet.

  I knew what would fix my mood. Trinity. One look into those guileless green eyes, one glimpse of her mouth curved into a smile, one whiff of her skin and everything else would fade away.

  Don’t use her as a crutch.

  I didn’t know where that thought had come from. I’d never dated a woman long enough to become dependent on her. For once in my life I’d like to have that. I’d like to knock on Trinity’s door and be confident that when she looked at me she’d know what I needed. It wasn’t just sex that’d soothe my ragged edges. But how was she supposed to possess this innate knowledge if I didn’t let her know when I needed it?

  That train of thought had me turning around and heading to her house.

  But it wasn’t a serene, smiling, helpful woman that greeted me at her studio door. She had her phone to her ear, vehemently arguing with someone. I grabbed a bottle of water, noticing her mini-kitchen was piled with garbage and odds and ends. The flowers I’d given her were dead in the vase. The heat in here indicated her air conditioner had blown a fuse again.

  The damn woman needed a keeper.

  It could be you.

  I snorted. Miss Independent would take offense at that, even if it was true.

  When her phone call kept going, I bagged her trash and tossed it in the garbage bins in the alley. I wandered up the sidewalk and noticed her scraggly lawn was a few weeks past needing a trim. No surprise with her schedule that she hadn’t gotten around to it. At loose ends, I cooled my heels for another minute before I searched out her lawn mower.

  The thing was a cheap piece of crap, but it worked. I started out in front of her house and blanked my mind to everything except the grinding whir of the lawn mower motor, the pace of my steps and the loamy scent of fresh-cut grass.

  By the time I reached the backyard, my mood had improved drastically. Strange to consider I hadn’t mowed my own lawn for a few years. I didn’t have the time. So why when I did have free time was I cutting her grass?

  Because you’re a nice guy?

  It went deeper than that. In some bizarre way, finishing the tasks Trinity didn’t have time for gave me a sense of accomplishment.

  After I parked the mower in the shed, my mood perked up even more as Trinity meandered down the sidewalk toward me, the light from the late-afternoon sun backlighting her hair.

  With a ferocity I’d never experienced, I realized I wanted this—her greeting me after a long day of work. It didn’t seem like a pipe dream; it felt like a premonition when I saw Trinity carrying two bottles of beer—my favorite kind of beer.

  “As much as I need a hug, sweetheart, my clothes are dirty and I don’t—”

  “You think I care about that? Wrong.” Then she hooked her arm around my neck and pulled me down so she could fasten her mouth to mine in a kiss that hit the mark between passionate and calming. She backed away and gave me a shy smile. “Hello, my dirty, hardworking man. I’m happy to see you and I’m sorry that phone call took me so long. Could I interest you in a frosty beverage?”

  God, I love you.

  “What?”

  I froze. I hadn’t blurted it out to her before I’d come to terms with it myself?

  “Walker? What’s wrong? Don’t you want a beer?”

  “Of course I want a beer. I was just surprised that you have my favorite.”

  “I’ve been in your refrigerator. I figured you’d be over here sometimes, so I should have it on hand.”

  Her thoughtfulness threw me more than her quirkiness. I could handle quirky. Seeing firsthand that she had been thinking about me and went the extra mile to make me comfortable in her home? I might as well just propose to her right now.

  “I do admit surprise that a billionaire heir prefers the cheap stuff.”

  “It’s cheap and it’s good. Besides, Grain Belt beer won the medal of excellence for their lager several years running.”

  She tapped my cheek. “Just giving you crap, Viking. Thank you for mowing my lawn. You didn’t have to do that.”

  I shrugged. “It needed done.”

  “Still, I’m happy and grateful you did it. So you want to sit by my fire pit and enjoy our beer? Or would you rather go inside?”

  “You know . . . I’ve never been inside your house.”

  “Really? Huh. Well, it’s kind of a dump—especially compared to your fancy-schmancy Lake District digs.”

  I lifted my beer to my lips. “Do you have furniture in your living room?”

  “Of course.”

  “That shows me up because I have none in my fancy-schmancy house.”

  She laughed and the familiar sound soothed my last ragged edge. “Come on.”

  “Give me two minutes and I’ll change that fuse first.”

  The way she shifted back and forth I knew she warred between telling me I didn’t have to do that and relief it’d get fixed. She exhaled. “Thank you. That would be great.”

  She hung back as I dinked around with the fuse box. When she said, “I like watching you work, Walker. Promise you’ll let me come to a job site sometime so I can see you in action?” I knew that she wasn’t just paying lip service to accepting all parts of me; she meant it. I’d never had that before. And no way was I giving it up.

  “Done.”

  After Trinity set the alarm, we strolled hand in hand up the sidewalk to the front door.

  I followed her inside. The small entryway opened up into the living room. Her furniture was white. Her walls were white. Her carpet was white. Even her end tables and coffee table were covered with white paint.

  Given her vibrant personality, I’d expected her private space to reflect it. But this place was a void. I looked over at her and saw she’d been watching me.

  “It’s intentional. The all-white space.”

  “Why?”

  “Working with colors and textures and images all day, my eyes and my brain need blank space to recharge.”

  “I guess that makes sense.”

  One of the puffy white pillows jumped and so did I. “Jesus. What was that?”

  “My cat.”

  “You have a cat?”

  “Yes. Didn’t your mother tell you?”

  I frowned. “How the hell does my mom know you have a cat and I don’t?”

  She tiptoed over to it, offering reassuring words that she only wanted to pet it, but the white fur stood on end as it arched its back and hissed at her.

  I refrained from voicing my opinion that cats were assholes. “What’s your cat’s name?”

  “Buttons.”

  “Buttons,” I repeated, studying the pure white fluff ball. “Babe. Buttons doesn’t have marks anywhere on that lily white fur.”

  “I know. When I found her out by my studio, she had three black circles in a line down her chest. When I cleaned her up, the black spots were gone. But I’d already named her.”

  “Dogs are better than cats.”

  She sighed. “But I can’t just cut her loose. She has been my cat for two years.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting you eighty-six her. I was just saying if I had to choose, I’d pick dogs.”

  “You could have dogs,” she pointed out. “You have room for them.”

  But I wanted family dogs and that wasn’t something I’d ever admit out loud. “Someday.”

  “Are you hungry? I could make clam linguine.”

  That sounded awful. “I wouldn’t want you to go to any trouble.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Mastered the art of the little white lie, have you?”

  “Fine. I don’t l
ike clams. Not crazy about linguine either. Why don’t we just order a pizza?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I ate enough pizza in college that if I never have it again it’ll be too soon.”

  “That sucks. I love pizza.”

  “You’re a bachelor. You probably only like pizza because someone makes it, drops it off at your door and all you have to do is open the box.”

  Partially true. I wasn’t about to argue with a woman who didn’t like chicken wings or bar food either. I sipped my beer.

  She sipped hers.

  Fuck it. I’d just go there, since it’s where we’d end up anyway. “So is your bedroom all black?”

  That startled her. “Why would you ask that?”

  “It seems if you need blank space here, then you’d want a different atmosphere in the place where you sleep. The exact opposite. Light and dark.”

  Trinity blinked at me.

  “Am I wrong?”

  “No. My bedroom is completely black. But no one understands why. They just think I’m morose.”

  “No one meaning . . . other men who’ve been in your bed?”

  Her eyes narrowed again until she was nearly cross-eyed. “Are we doing the jealousy thing? Because I can give it right back to you by asking how many women have swum in your pool.”

  I loved that she didn’t back down. And hated that she had a point. “I fucking hate thinking about other guys having their hands on you, Trinity. I know it’s in the past and it won’t be a thing between us, but you oughta know that I’ll probably act like a caveman when I see guys eyeballing you. And if one touches you? He’ll be picking his broken teeth up off the floor.”

  She said nothing. But her cheeks were flushed. With anger?

  “What?”

  “That makes me hot, imagining you going all primal and possessive over me.”

  “It does?”

  “Crazy hot.” She drained her beer. “Want to see my bedroom?”

  “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

  Trinity rushed past me; I chased her.

  I slammed the door shut and we fell into a dark void where we were nothing but sighs and moans, heated skin and frantic movements.

  It was exactly what we both needed—and way better than clam linguine or pizza.

  —

  Afterward, we settled with her head on my chest, our bodies twisted together between her satiny sheets, still completely in the dark. I finally felt completely reset and heaved a huge sigh.

  She said, “Bad day?”

  “Might say that.”

  “Can you talk about it without getting all tensed up again?”

  “You sure you wanna hear it?”

  “I love lying on your chest and listening to you talk. And with the added bonus that I get to smell you, it’s like a drug.”

  Shit. I hadn’t showered after a long day spent outside in the dirt. Was she hinting that I reeked?

  “I love all the different scents that make up Walker Lund. Earth and spice and mint and that yummy cologne, and some citrusy one I can’t place. You’re intoxicating.”

  I smiled even though she couldn’t see my face in the dark.

  “Talk to me. This is what couples do after the lovin’.”

  So I told her about my frustration with the Smith Brothers’ project and how I was ready to cut them loose and Jase wasn’t, which put us at odds. Then we had supply delays, and employees with Monday-itis, leaving us shorthanded. I hated when Mondays were a shitshow because it usually meant the rest of the week would follow along those lines.

  Trinity just listened. I didn’t know how much I’d needed that. I kissed the top of her head. “Who were you yelling at on the phone?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I’ve got time.”

  “Esther came to look at the piece today and suggested minor changes, which is no big deal. She’s telling me about the country club where she’s having the party and I ask specifics about how the piece will be displayed because it’s heavy. She had no idea about display costs or temporary and permanent installation costs. So I’m imagining this work crumpled up on the floor of a garage someplace. We get a plan figured out and I call my usual display and installation guy—who incidentally is a good friend of Ramon’s—and he declines to help me.”

  “Jesus. He’s taking sides?”

  “I should’ve expected that. I call another guy. Same answer. I’m thinking I have this gorgeous piece and no way to transport it to the event, so I call my friend Nicolai, who I haven’t talked to in over a year. He and Ramon had a crash-and-burn moment, so Nicolai can’t wait to share the gossip that Ramon went into rehab this weekend.”

  I stopped my hand in the middle of her back. “What?”

  “Remember I told you about Ramon having a personality change? And Gen always making cracks about him being high? I guess it’d gotten really bad. He was pulled over in his food truck for driving under the influence. There’s some snag with quantifiable limits when you’re stoned, but after he was released on bond, he checked into Hazelden.”

  I tilted her head back, but in the pitch black I couldn’t see her eyes. “Don’t feel guilty, sweetheart. He made his choices. The breakdown of your friendship didn’t send him down the path to self-destruction; he was already on it.”

  “I still feel bad for him, though. And I do feel guilty that maybe if I’d been a better friend—”

  My mouth found hers in the dark. The sweet taste of her was my drug. I fed off her until we both needed to break apart to breathe.

  She snuggled into me, burying her nose in my chest with a contented sigh.

  “After Nicolai finished gossiping, did he get you the names of installation guys?”

  “Nope. That’s why I was yelling and pacing. But I’m not thinking about it tonight.”

  “I’ll be your installation guy.”

  She lifted her head. “What?”

  “You need a strong guy, I’m your man. You need a strong guy who knows other strong guys, I’m your man. If you need equipment to load the piece, I’m your man. If you need transportation, I’m your man. Get where I’m going with this?”

  “You’re sure? Because I’m a completely different person when I’m coordinating an installation.”

  “I’ve watched you kill yourself during this process and if I can take some of the burden off, let me help you.”

  When she kissed me, I felt her smile on my lips. “Okay. But you can’t forget I’m in charge. You can’t second-guess me or argue with me—”

  I flipped her on her back. “I get it. I’m still the man for the job. But there is one thing.”

  “What?”

  “I won’t hide the fact I’m sleeping with the boss.”