by Tessa Layne
"How quick can you go home, change and get back here?"
Penny's scowl returns. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"
I shake my head. "Everything. This is a suit and tie event, not a high school basketball game." I swear I can see the steam rolling up from her ears. "You're a full-fledged adult now. Time to play with the grownups."
She narrows her eyes. "Would you tell Hector to change his clothes?"
My gaze slides his direction. He's wearing standard-issue khakis and a blue striped button-down with the sleeves rolled up. "Yep. I told you, this is a suit and tie function."
She makes a growly noise in the back of her throat. "Then you'll have to find someone else. I don't own a dress."
"Doesn't every girl have a dress?" How can she not own a dress?
"Doesn't every guy have a pair of black wingtips and a suit jacket?" she sasses back.
I wave a hand impatiently. "Fine. Point taken. Check the closet in the bedroom, then. I'm sure you can find a skirt and sweater. You need to look nice for this. We're writing a check for twenty-five thousand dollars."
Her eyes widen as she takes that in.
"And you'll be there in the capacity of the Kansas City Kings, and I, no," I correct myself. "The team is counting on you to represent them well."
"Fine," she growls. "But I'm not going to wear your girlfriend's castoffs, whether they're Lena's or girlfriend two-hundred-and-forty-seven."
"Then run downstairs to the boutique on Walnut and grab something. We have an account there."
"Of course you do," she mutters. "Hector, throw me a bone here. Wouldn't you rather go?"
"And say no to a night off?" Hector shakes his head. "Sorry chica. We'll take a raincheck and take you out next week."
"You're kidding. You're siding with him?"
Hector throws up his hands. "Whatever bossman wants, bossman gets."
Good man. I make a note to give him a raise.
"Great, thanks, Hector." Penny's voice drips with sarcasm. "I'm going to remember this the next time you want me to cover for you." She shoots a glare at me before heading to the elevator.
Hector lets out a low whistle. "That girl. She's gonna give someone a run for their money someday."
"Tell me about it."
"See you mañana, boss?"
"Thanks for everything today, Hector." I could say more, but I make a point of not getting too touchy feely with the guys. They'll appreciate a big bonus more. Hector sees himself out as I take a breath and call back the VP of Delhi Bank.
Fifteen minutes and one terse phone call later, Penny returns wearing a black pencil skirt and a pale pink three-quarter sleeve cardigan sweater with the top two buttons open. She's pulled her hair into a messy topknot. She pauses in the doorway green eyes snapping, as if daring me to tell her to change her hightops for a pair of heels. But I know better than to push my luck. And truth be told, the sassy, brainy librarian image she conjures is... hot. My dick jumps to life.
"Satisfied? Sir?"
My mouth turns to coal. I swallow and bat away a myriad of dirty images that screen through my brain like a slideshow and hide behind my bark. "I said don't call me that." I pull the envelope the Kings front office sent over by courier from my desk and tuck it into my coat pocket. "Come on," I growl. "We're late."
Edward is waiting just outside the lobby door and in less than ten minutes, we're inside the elevator of the President hotel being whisked to the top floor. As the doors slide open, I take Penny by the elbow and lean in. "We only have to stay about an hour. Then I'll take you for dinner and a shot."
"You really don't have to."
I lead her to the bar. "Maybe I want to." I signal the bartender and a moment later he comes to take our order. Penny still hasn't said anything. "Twenty-year scotch for me. Penny?"
"Umm, water?"
I shake my head. "It's her twenty-first birthday, any suggestions?" The bartender rattles off a number of options. "Or you could have what I'm having." I shoot her a grin.
She shakes her head vehemently. "Oh hell no. I am not drinking that stinky bandaidy shit you call a beverage."
I drop my head back with a laugh. "Do you want something tart? Or something sweet?"
She narrows her eyes. "Is this one of those trick questions? Like I'm supposed to pick the drink that matches my personality?"
I lift a shoulder, amused by the prospect. "Could be. I like what scotch says about me."
"That you're smoky, medicinal, and you burn going down?"
I huff out another laugh. "I was going for smooth and complex."
She snorts. "Nice to know that's how you see yourself."
"How about a margarita on the rocks?" I ask the bartender.
"Excellent choice, sir." He nods with a smile and gets to work.
"I see you have no problem when he calls you sir," she points out.
"Penny," I groan. "We've been through this."
"I feel compelled to call you on your blatant and unapologetic sexism."
"That may be, but you're still not calling me sir." The bartender places the glass on the bar and I hand it to Penny. "Happy Birthday." Our eyes lock, and for once, it's not antagonistic. Penny's eyes warm as she holds my gaze. Awareness rockets through me and I clear my throat, at a loss for words.
She takes a tentative sip. Eyebrows shooting up as the flavors hit her tongue. "Mmm, I like it." She takes another sip, then licks the salt from her lips. "So what does this say about me?"
I grin. "That you're sour, salty, and just the right amount of sweet."
Her cheeks turn pink and she ducks her head, taking another sip.
"Pace yourself. They go down easy, but they're strong."
"Noted."
We both turn and scan the room just as the elevator doors open up and Harrison steps out. With our team coxswain, Sparky. I mutter a curse, then stare hard at Sparky before sliding to meet Steele's gaze. I knew it. I knew there was something between them. I've suspected for months, and holy shit, she's dressed to the nines. They're on a fucking date.
Steele looks nonplussed as he stares hard at Penny then raises an eyebrow, as if to say, "What the fuck are you doing here with Penny?" His glower has me second guessing bringing her along. In fact, I don't even know why I asked Penny except that I didn't want to leave her alone with Hector in my office. The look in Steele's eye says I should have left her at the office.
So I make damned sure the look in my eye says that the team is going to go ballistic if they know Steele's dating our coxswain. We come to a silent understanding that we shall never speak of this again.
Steele and Sparky make their way to where we are standing. "Stockton," he says. "Penny."
"Sparky," I respond, making it crystal clear I'm not going to take any shit for bringing Penny here.
“Nice to see you again, Penny,” Sparky says with a smile.
Penny nods and opens her mouth to speak but is cut off by the booming voice of Big Jim Williams, owner of Kansas City's pro-football team. “Well if it ain’t my two favorite rivals,” he booms. “And who are these pretty ladies you gents have brought along?”
The guy is an asshat. A creepy sleazebag who probably watches child pornography. In the chaos of today, it completely slipped my mind that Jim would be here. And unfortunately, there's no way to politely extract ourselves from what is certain to be an uncomfortable conversation. So I do something I've only dreamed about where Penny's concerned. I wrap my arm around Penny, making sure Jim sees my hand landing possessively on her hip.
Chapter Nine
Penny
Two Years Earlier
"What in the hell was that for?" I hiss as soon as the conversation with "Big Jim" has reached its awkward conclusion and Harrison and Sparky have drifted away. "I can fend for myself, you know."
"Not around Big Jim, you can't," Stockton answers tersely, hand still possessively at my hip. "And I'd be an ass if I let you."
"How chivalrous of you." My voice drips with
sarcasm. "Maybe now's a good time to remind you that I'm not an object - I'm a fucking person."
He draws back, eyeing me, with just a hint of a smile around the hard edge of his mouth. "I'm very aware of your... personable qualities. And for the record, I wouldn't let my dog around Jim Williams."
"You don't even have a dog."
"You know what I mean, Penny. Do you want me to spell it out for you?"
I may never get this opportunity again, to get a peek inside the mind of Stockton Forde. Hell, yeah I want him to spell it out for me. I lift a shoulder like I couldn't care less. "Sure, why not?"
He grunts, as if realizing too late I've pushed him into being truthful. "I can't prove it, but that guy has predator written all over him. If I had my way, I wouldn't let any woman I cared about, especially you, within a hundred feet of the guy."
I place a hand on his chest. "Aww, Stockton, you care about me? I'm so touched." Secretly, I am.
He narrows his eyes, then scans the room. "Let's mingle."
We spend the next forty-five minutes making small talk with coaches and players from other teams around the metro. Stockton is the consummate gentleman and lights up with pride when he talks about the algorithm I came up with a year ago that's been instrumental in signing our new recruits. Slowly, we're building a World Series team and I'm proud of my contributions to that. I'm also mortified and secretly tickled by the way he brags about me. It's sweet, and today - only because it's my birthday - I won't give him shit about it.
After we've finished a conversation with the Sporting's head coach, Stockton leans in. "C'mon. Let's get out of here." The way he says it implies something much... naughtier than just dinner. But I know better than to expect anything will come of it. I may have a perpetual crush on my boss, but even I'm smart enough to know it will never be more than occasional flirtation.
By the time the elevator opens onto the lobby, I've chickened out. "Thanks for the invite, but I think I'm going to head home. We have a long day tomorrow. And you should go find Lena. Kiss and make up and all that," I say with a wave of my hand.
Stockton's eyes narrow briefly. "Lena and I... were never meant to be."
I'm surprised to hear him say that, yet not surprised. I always imagined him with someone... more his equal.
"Besides," he adds. "It's your birthday. You shouldn't spend it alone."
I snort. "I've spent every other birthday alone. It's kind of my thing now."
"Well maybe it's time to start a new tradition."
"And maybe it's not." Being at dinner alone with Stockton feels too much like a date. And as much as I wish it were a date, I can't let myself go there. My resolve lasts until his eyes soften. There's something in his expression that arrows straight into my soul.
"Penny," he coaxes. "Let me treat you to dinner?"
The way he says my name, silky smooth with just a hint of a burr, is my undoing. That voice could charm an angel straight into hell. I drop my gaze, heat coloring my cheeks. "Okay," I whisper.
Edward holds out the door for us and we pile into the backseat of the car like we've done on a million other occasions. Only this time he sits close enough I get a hit of his spicy cologne. It's intoxicating and only adds to my weakness where he's concerned. As he turns to me his thigh brushes against mine. For a moment I forget to breathe.
"Where do you want to go?"
I shrug. "I don't eat out that much. I really don't know what's around."
Stockton leans forward and taps on the leather. "Edward, can you take us to the River Market?" Then he turns back to me, eyes full of amusement. "So did you like the margarita?"
I roll my eyes but can't help smiling at his question. "It's not like I've never tasted alcohol before, Stockton."
"But you don't drink often."
I shake my head, the memories coming on hard and fast. My mother passed out on the couch, a boyfriend throwing a chair, the drunken rages and hiding in my closet, squeezing my eyes shut as if that might make the nightmare go away.
"Penny," Stockton says sharply. "Are you okay?" His voice pulls me out of the dark memories and I jerk my eyes to his, heart beating erratically. His face is shadowed with concern. "You look like you went somewhere."
I push the memories back into the dark corner of my heart where they belong. That's not my life anymore. I shrug. "Sorry. My birthdays haven't all been pleasant."
Again, his mouth pulls into the smile I can't resist. "Then I'm glad we're making new memories."
Edward drops us off at the corner of Walnut and 5th. Stockton takes my hand as he helps me from the car, only he doesn't let go. I look at our hands, reveling in the sparks shooting up my arm and the warm security of his clasp, but I can't help poking the bear. At least a little. Especially after Lena's outburst earlier. "So what is this? A rebound date?"
He looks at me and grins, shaking his head as we head up the street away from the River Market sign. Then he lets go of my hand. "Sorry. I didn't mean to be inappropriate. I just... well... never mind." He shakes his head again. "Come on."
About halfway down the street we stop at a door marked KC Taco Company. It's tiny, with an enormous picture window that shows no more than a dozen tables inside. Stockton opens the door and motions me in ahead of him. Already, it's half-full. "Arty," Stockton calls out as we enter.
The man called Arty waves through the window to the kitchen. "How are you, my man?" He motions with his head to a table in the corner, and comes around to the front. "What the hell are you doing here on a Thursday night?"
Stockton drapes an arm around my shoulder. "This is Penny. It's her twenty-first birthday today."
I warm at his introduction. Not this is my colleague, or this is my employee. Just me.
Arty turns to me. He looks like a washed-out old surfer dude, but his eyes are kind. "Is that so? Well you came to the right place."
Within minutes, Arty brings out two beverages and puts them on the table. "Happy Birthday, Miss Penny."
I move to take a sip, but Stockton stops me. "Wait." He lifts his glass. "May this be the first in a series of birthdays that are much better than whatever came before."
My chest tightens and heat blooms in my chest. "Thank you," I murmur, dropping my eyes before I lose myself in his gaze. I lift the glass to my mouth, conscious he's watching me closely. I take a sip. Again the combination of sweet, salt and sour crosses my tongue. But this time, there are smoky notes. Not like the nasty scotch Stockton likes so much, but in a way that feels warm and comforting. Like a bonfire on a fall night. I could relax into this way too easily.
Arty brings out chips freshly made chips and salsa and chunky guacamole the likes of which I've never tasted before. "Ohmygod," I gasp before diving in for another bite of the guacamole. "This is freaking magic."
Stockton chuckles as he grabs a tortilla chip. "Glad you like it."
"My god, I'm having a mouthgasm."
Stockton's mouth twitches and his eyes briefly smolder. The air between us charges, and for once I wish I hadn't said the first thing that popped into my head. "If that's all it takes," he says, the burr returning to his voice, "I think you need to get out more."
There's so much more I want to say but I'm suddenly overcome with shyness. I duck my head and take a long gulp of my beverage. We're quiet for a few minutes as we demolish the guac. I suck down the rest of my margarita.
"Take it easy, Penny," Stockton warns when I finish the last of it. His beverage is only half consumed.
I wrinkle my nose. "It's my birthday I can do whatever I want."
"So you can, so you can," he says, gazing at me through hooded eyes.
Another margarita, same as the first, miraculously appears in front of me. "Another for the birthday lady," Arty says as he places it on the table. I like that he calls me lady instead of girl.
When Arty has disappeared, Stockton leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes serious. "Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure, I guess."
"Do you
like working for me?"
I ignore the warning bells in my head. I'm too relaxed, and determined to enjoy myself. "I like my salary."
Stockton's brows slash together.
"Was that not the right answer?" I take another drink. "I like the work. Most days."
"When do you not like it?" He castles his fingers, tapping his first fingers together.
"When you're a beast."
The corner of Stockton's mouth curls up on one side, giving him a decidedly rakish look. "And when am I a beast?"
I return the half-smile with one of my own. "Dangerous questions. Are you sure you want to know?"
He nods. "I do."
"After your mother leaves, when you date or break up with a new woman, when the cybersquad visits the office." There's a flicker of surprise in his eyes when I mention the cybersquad. "When you get back from a trip, or are gearing up for one. During a contract proposal or negotiation."
He makes a noncommittal noise in his throat when I finish rattling off the list. "That's pretty much all the time," he says after a lengthy pause.
I nod and nibble on another chip. "Oh, and when you're hangry."
"Hangry?" he repeats, eyebrows flirting with his hairline.
I nod. "Mmm-hmm. Especially then. You're a monster when you're hungry."
He makes a face. "Good to know." After another long pause, during which our tacos are dropped, he asks again. "When am I not a beast?"
"So inquisitive," I tease before diving into the amazing flavors on my plate. I debate whether or not to answer the question while I finish the first taco, an incredible infusion of raw tuna and Asian spiced sauce in a fried wonton taco shell. But it's my birthday, and the drinks have loosened my tongue. "When you take me to visit my mother," I say quietly then dive into my next taco so I don't have to acknowledge the sudden lump in my throat.
When I venture a gaze his direction, he's still staring at me, as if he's really seeing me. It feels big and uncomfortable and comforting all at the same time. We stare at each other, neither of us moving until he utters a guttural noise of surprise and looks away first. He looks... embarrassed. Like that was the last answer he was expecting, and I'm not ready to drop it. I may never have another opportunity to ask the question that's been weighing on me for two years.
