by Holly Jaymes
“While I’m here,” I repeated as his request filtered through my brain. He wanted a short term, no-strings affair.
“Yes. And if you say no, which maybe you should, you can still use this room. It’s not a condition of what I’m asking for.”
“So, you want me to sleep with you and work in here.”
He winced. “Yes.”
I shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”
His brows drew together like he hadn’t expected my answer.
I laughed. “Mitch, I enjoyed last night too, and while I’m not as averse to relationships as you are, I’m not looking for one nor will have the time for one when I build my business.”
He didn’t look quite as relieved as I’d have thought. “Parker still can’t know.”
“Why not?” I didn’t feel like it was Parker’s business, but I was curious about Mitch’s thoughts.
“He’s my friend, and I don’t think he’d like it. I just told you how a betrayal by a good friend and my fiancé changed the course of my life. I don’t want to do that to him.”
In my mind, my sleeping with my brother’s friend wasn’t the same as Mitch’s situation, but I could see it was important to him.
“I don’t kiss and tell, even to Parker.”
“Okay. Good.” He stepped up to me again.
“Can I say thank you now?” I teased him.
“If you must,” he grinned at me.
I thanked him by getting naked and pulling him to the floor.
Book 3: Chapter 8—Making the Most of a Month
Making the Most of a Month
Mitch
I was relieved beyond belief not just that Hope agreed to my no-strings fling, but also that she didn’t get offended or angry. What I’d asked for was wrong in so many ways. The proposal itself was crazy, but telling her I wasn’t relationship material the day after I’d spent the night naked with her put me at risk of being as bad as I’d been nine years ago. Next I asked her to lie to her brother. It was bad enough I was lying to him, but to ask her to do it was just wrong.
Even so, I was thrilled she agreed. I enjoyed my life, but she was right in that sometimes it was a lonely existence. There were times I missed the company and intimacy of a woman. After she thanked me on the floor of the studio, I helped her move her work items in, and then brought her suitcases to my room.
I left her to work on her business while I went to my office on the lower floor and took care of some freelance work I was doing for my brother Will. Late afternoon, I poured a glass of wine for each of us and brought it up to her.
“How’s it going?” I asked.
She sighed from behind her computer. “Okay.”
“Just okay?” I handed her the wine.
“Oh, wine break, good idea.” She sat back in her chair. I looked at her screen on which she had some sort of graphic design program.
“What’s the problem?”
“I just wish my program was easier to use.” She opened her web browser. “See this fabric? I’d like to test how it would look on this design.” She returned to her graphic program. “But I can’t copy the pattern.”
“Do you make your own patterns?”
“Sometimes. Also, I can’t seem to get the ribbing along the sleeves like I want in this program. But,” she continued. “I have made some progress on my business plan. In my SWOT I’ve discovered I have a lot of W and not enough S.”
I frowned. “I don’t believe it. You have plenty of strengths, and all businesses have weaknesses before they start.”
She turned to me. “I’ve never run a business. The industry is crowded. I’m not in New York. My ideas aren’t that unique. Those are all pretty big weaknesses. Maybe this isn’t a good idea.”
I hate how defeated she looked. “Do you love it?” I nodded toward her drawn sketches.
“I have to make a living, Mitch. It doesn’t matter if I love it.”
“That’s not true. Making a living doing what you love makes all the difference.”
“You don’t. You walked away from your passion.”
I tried not to take the comment as a barb, although it did poke at me. “My situation is different. I don’t have to make a living, and I still do some work. Besides, what would you do instead?”
“I could go to New York and get a job with another designer. I could learn more about the business of it before starting my own.”
The idea of her being so far away bothered me, which was crazy because it’s not like we ever saw each other when she was in Virginia.
“How long are you willing to put off your dream, Hope? Are you going to give your ideas to another designer in the meantime?”
She sagged in her chair.
“Do you need investors? Is it the money? Because I’ll help.”
“I don’t want your money, Mitch.” She stood, and I realized I’d offended her.
“It’s not a handout. Even I needed financial help when I really got my business going.”
“You could lose your money.” She stood by the window looking out over the Blue Ridge.
“I’ve got money to lose, but I don’t think I will. I believe in you.”
She gave me a wan smile.
“But you need to believe in you too. Why don’t you show me your plan? Maybe I can help.”
Thankfully, Hope rallied and let me see what she had. Some of her self-doubts showed up in the document, but I also saw her creativity and uniqueness. I really wanted to see her get her dream, and so I spent the next few days helping her with her plan, pushing her to expand her ideas and goals.
When I wasn’t helping her, I was at my computer, working on a program that would help her bring her creations to life.
At night, she was in my bed, and I made sure to take advantage of her warm, sweet body. It had been a long time since I’d gone to bed and woken up with a woman beside me. I savored it even as I reminded myself not to get too used to it. This was a short-term thing. When the month was done, she’d be back to city life, building her dream, and I’d be here, back to my regular life.
On Sunday, I prepared to head to my mother’s house. I wanted to invite Hope but knew that would be problematic. Who knew what my family would read into it, and what could get back to Parker?
“You’ll be okay here for a few hours?”
She nodded as she sat on the deck with a fashion magazine. “Yes, Mitch. Go have dinner with your family. I’m going to eat something, call my parents, and then probably call it a night.”
“I want you to come but—”
“I get it, Mitch and I feel the same. I like that what happens here in your magnificent home in the woods stays in your magnificence home in the woods.”
I didn’t like it. “I can leave Duke here if you’d be more comfortable.”
“Mitch,” she said with humor in her voice. “Take your dog and visit your mother.”
I laughed. “Yes, ma’am.”
Duke and I loaded up into the SUV and headed down the mountain, and east toward my mother’s home. As usual, as the area became more populated, I began to tense, and when I hit traffic, I wanted to turn around and head back home. Back to Hope.
I was the second son to arrive as Nate and Hallie were already there.
“Hey Mitch,” Hallie gave me a hug and then patted Duke. Duke soaked up the attention and then headed out to the backyard to play with my mother’s dog, George. “Nate will be so glad you’re here.”
I smirked. “Only because I can grill.”
“That’s exactly right,” Nate said, handing me a beer. “How are things in the woods?”
I thought of Hope keeping me warm at night and filling my days. “Good.” I walked with them to the kitchen where my mother was cutting fruit.
“Mitch.”
I kissed my mother on the cheek. “Mom. That looks delicious.”
“Thank you. I know your brother will want you to grill. The chicken is in the fridge. I had the tanks of the grill filled this week.”
“I’ll take care of it,” I assured her.
“Can you start before Will gets here?” Gabe said, entering the kitchen, followed by Samantha carrying little Annabelle.
I gave my niece a kiss on the forehead, feeling a tinge of regret that I’d never had a little person like this in my life. I’d have to shower all my parental love on my nieces and nephews, assuming Nate and Hallie ever had kids.
“Hello to you too, Gabe.” I teased. “Sam, you look radiant as always.”
“Thank you, Mitch.” She tilted her head. “You look happy too. Has something changed?”
“Nope.” They didn’t need to know about Hope.
I grabbed the chicken and headed out back to fire up mom’s grill. My brother’s desire to have me do the grilling was appropriate, as my brother Will was terrible at it. As the oldest, he’d taken on the role of the patriarch when my father died, but when it was clear he couldn’t grill to save his life, I’d worked to take over those duties.
“How’s things?” Will said as he joined me on the deck.
“Cookin’.” I lit the grill and then closed the lid to let it heat up. I sat with my beer in one of the chairs on the deck next to Will.
The sound of laughter came from the house.
“Do you ever feel outnumbered?” Will ask with a glance to the house.
“Outnumbered?” I sipped my beer.
“Growing up, it was five boys and one girl. When dad died, it was still four boys and mom. Now it’s three girls, four, if you count Annabelle and four of us.”
I laughed. “You say it like it’s a bad thing.”
“Whatever got Gabe and Nate, I hope I don’t get it.” Will shivered.
“You mean love?”
“Yep.” Will pointed his beer bottle toward me. “You and I have to stick together.”
I clicked his bottle with mine to show my solidarity. While I was happy for Gabe and Nate, my feelings of love mirrored Will’s. I had good reason to distrust it.
“Gabe I get. He was always into Sam. But Nate, that came out of left field,” Will said. “I’ll be honest, he’s the last guy I’d ever think would have married, aside from me.”
“So, you think I’m the marrying type?” I asked.
“Well, at one time, you were.”
True. But not anymore. “I learned my lesson.”
“Bitch of a lesson.”
I couldn’t agree more. My brothers and the ladies came out of the house with snacks. I stood to give Hallie my chair and returned to my post at the grill.
“Mitch, guess who I ran into the other day,” my mother said, sitting under the umbrella at the table shucking corn.
“Who?” I said, opening the grill to start putting the chicken on.
“Clare Caldwell.”
My hand stilled for a moment at the mention of Hope’s mother. “Oh.”
“You know, I think there’s a problem with her husband’s business.”
“I’ve heard that too,” Will said.
I shrugged.
“You haven’t heard anything about it from Parker?” my mother asked.
I shook my head. “No.” That wasn’t a lie. Parker hadn’t told me about his dad’s business troubles.
“Well, I suppose it’s a difficult thing to talk about. She said Hope was going to start her own business. In fact, she’s supposed to be up your way. Have you seen her?” my mother asked.
My head scrambled to figure out what to say. I didn’t want to lie, and yet, I couldn’t admit that Hope was staying at my house, could I?
“She’s using the extension,” I said. That had been true when she first got there. Still, I needed to make sure that whatever I said didn’t come back to bite me. My mother’s trust was important to me.
“Oh. Why didn’t you bring her with you? I’d love to see her again,” my mother said.
“Who’s Hope?” Hallie asked.
“Mitch’s longtime crush,” Gabe said.
I looked over my shoulder. “No, she’s not.” Jesus, had he known that? All those years I’d liked her, had he been able to tell? “She’s my friend Parker’s sister.” I gave Gabe a look.
“You liked her?” Will asked.
“As a friend.”
Gabe snorted.
“Even if I did like her, which I didn’t, she was Parker’s sister. You don’t go after your best buddy’s sister.”
“Is that rule?” Sam asked. “My experience is that when it comes to sex, men don’t have many rules, except maybe no commitment.”
Hallie nodded. “That’s true.”
“What do you mean?” Nate asked. “I’m pretty committed.”
She laughed. “Except you, sweetie.” She patted his hand.
“Yes, it’s a rule,” I said. I checked the chicken, wanting to move onto a different topic.
“So, what’s Hope working on,” my mother asked.
“She wants to start a design business. I don’t know much about it.” That was a lie. After the last few days, I knew the intricate details of her business plan and was even working on a program to help her better conceptualize her designs.
“She always did like fashion,” my mother said. “Sam, have you ever met her?”
Sam shook her head. “Maybe once when we were kids. The Caldwells were private school kids. How did you get to be friends with a Caldwell, Mitch?”
“Youth soccer,” I said, turning over the chicken.
“I’m glad to hear Hope is finally pursuing her dream,” my mother said. “She was a big help to her family, while Parker got to do his own thing.”
She wasn’t wrong. Parker had gotten his law degree and worked at a big firm in Washington, D.C. while Hope had been roped into helping the family business. I wondered what Parker was doing to help Hope transition now that the family business was about to go belly up.
“So, you’ve got Parker’s sister staying at your place?” Gabe asked.
Shit, why was he going back to that?
“In the extension,” I said. I moved the finished chicken to a plate and added a few more pieces.
“She was a looker,” Will said.
I gritted my teeth, wanting to punch Will for noticing her.
“How long is she staying in the extension?” my mother asked.
“Few more weeks, I think.” I set the plate on the table, hoping the food would make them stop talking about Hope.
My mother brought the corn to me, and I set a few on the other side of the grill. “You’ll bring her next week.” It was a statement, not a request.
“I’ll ask. She’s busy doing her own thing.”
I was glad when the topic of the night turned to baby Annabelle. I loved my family, but I didn’t much like their scrutiny over my private life.
When the dinner was done, I stayed on the deck to clean up the grill, while everyone else went inside.
“Tell me you’re not going to abandon me,” Will said, handing me another beer.
“Okay.” I wasn’t sure what he meant.
“You and Hope aren’t falling in love and then I’ll be the only bachelor Sloane, are you?”
“No. I’m not falling for Hope.” Sure, I liked her company. I liked her brains and her creativity. I liked how she coddled my dog. And I sure as hell liked touching her. But that wasn’t love.
Will patted me on the back. “Good.”
As Duke and I drove back home, I solidified my commitment to bachelorhood. I enjoyed Hope and even cared for her, but our lives were different. In a few weeks, she’d be back in Northern Virginia building her business, while I stayed in the woods, as it should be.
Still, there was no reason not to enjoy our time together. When I arrived home, she was in my bed reading. Will was right, she was a looker. And she looked right at home in my bed. I pushed that thought away as I stripped, and took her in my arms to make the most of the time we had.
Book 3: Chapter 9—Christmas in December
Christmas in September
Hope
Mitch was spoiling me. The Friday before, my car repair was finished, and his friend Eddie even arranged to have it delivered. Then today, a sewing machine showed up. Not just any old machine, but a fancy heavy duty one that had to be at least a thousand dollars, maybe two.
“Mitch, this is too much. I have a machine at home.” Granted it wasn’t this top of the line brand, but it served its purpose when I was making mocks of my designs.
“Consider it my investment in your business.”
I bit my lip, really wanting to keep it but feeling like I shouldn’t.
“It’s computerized,” he said. “I had no idea sewing machines had computers on them.”
I nodded. “Yes, you can program stitches and things.”
“One more thing,” he said, pulling out his laptop. He tapped on a few keys, and a program came up. A shirt appeared on the screen. “This is a three-D design program. You can scan a fabric pattern and have it put on the clothing item. Plus, you can add elements like gathers and buttons. I don’t know all that you do, but if you tell me, I can program it.”
I gaped. “You made this for me?”
He looked up at me from his computer. “Yes. Another investment. Besides, I like programming, you know that. I enjoyed creating this one.”
I couldn’t believe he’d done that for me. I felt like he’d given me the world.
“Play with it, and let me know any tweaks it needs or other commands you’d like. Then we’ll put it on your computer.”
“Mitch, I don’t know what to say.”
He stood and put his arms around me. “Thank you will do.”
I quirked a brow wondering what sort of thank you he meant. “Just a thank you?”
“Well, I’d be happy to accept any forms of gratitude.” He rubbed my back. “But a simple thank you will suffice.”
I was ready to get naked right then and there, but he left me to play with the computer program and the new sewing machine. I felt like a kid on Christmas morning.
I showed my gratitude by making lunch and then giving him a blow job. I left him panting at the kitchen table, returning to play with my new gadgets some more. The program he’d made was tremendous. I could turn the garment on the screen to look at all sides and all angles, change the stitching, add pleats, and more.
