by Marie James
“Fuck my life,” I grumble as I cross the room to them, prepared to pull the thing from Finnegan’s grasp and shatter it against the damn wall.
“He seems to be walking fine this morning,” Gaige says, the first one to notice me walking up.
The guys look up from the tablet, just as Remington informs me that she knew it was me all along.
“Sorry you struck out, dude,” Wren says with a wicked grin. “Better luck next time.”
If it weren’t for the video looping right back to my grunt as I got struck in the nuts, I’d be pissed at his words, but the wink he sends my way tells me that he knows I’m not completely out the game just yet. Knowing Wren, he followed the two of us on video until she made it safely into her hotel room, and him having the video so soon after last night means my friend, even though he’s a petty asshole most days, has been keeping an eye on my girl.
“It’s a new day,” I declare, slapping Finnegan on the back as I head toward my office. Let the guys have their laughs. Let them taunt and tease me. My plan has been set into motion, and before long, I’m going to have the gorgeous woman that I love wrapped around my body while they go about their lives bouncing from one unfamiliar bed to the next.
I attack my open cases with a vengeance as I wait for Deacon to make it into the office. Before Anna, he was always the first one here. Now it’s a crapshoot as to when he shows his face. Be that as it may, I was surprised, since she’s out of town, that his light wasn’t already on when I walked by.
It’s ten before he drags his ass into the office, and when I shove open his door, the smile on his face explains his late arrival. The dopey grin no longer holds the power to piss me off like it has been in recent weeks.
“Let me guess? Anna cut her trip short?”
“She did.” He bites the corner of his mouth, but the smile still breaks free.
“You’re a lucky bastard, you know that?”
“I tell myself that very same thing every day.” He pushes his fingers across the mousepad on his laptop to wake it up. “You must have news because you’re not holed away in your office. I didn’t think getting popped in the nuts would make you smile.”
I groan, falling into the chair across from his desk. “You know about that?”
“Wren sent the video to my phone. Just so you know, Anna is Team Remington all the way. Whitney is rooting for you, but Pam is still undecided.”
“When did BBS turn into a damn gossip mill? Where’s the alliance? They should all be on my side.”
“Gossip has always been rampant, and you know it. The women talk about the things they have in common, that biggest thing is the goings-on in this office,” he answers. “Did you need to discuss something with me?”
“I need to take some time off.”
“You’ve earned plenty of overtime these last couple of weeks.”
I laugh. We don’t log overtime. We’re all salaried—paid a very handsome wage. We work when there’s work to do. All except possibly Wren. There’s no telling what he does for hours on end alone in that damn dark hole of an office of his.
“Do you know how long you need?”
“As long as it takes.”
“To get your girl?” I nod, unwilling to beat around the bush.
I’m not going to lie or hide behind some trumped up machismo to save face. I’m sitting across the room from a man so in love with his wife, when he angles his head to the side, you can see literal hearts in his eyes. He’d see through me anyway.
“That’s good to hear, Flynn. Want a little advice?”
Not really, but he worked out his own issues, so maybe it won’t hurt.
“Sure.”
“Go big or go home.”
“Nike cutting you a check any time soon?”
He laughs. “Women like grand gestures. You know what it took to win Anna over. I don’t know that anything else would’ve worked.”
“I don’t think a tux is going to win Remington over.”
“I don’t mean do exactly what I did.”
“Extravagance was part of her old life. I don’t think she’d appreciate something like that.”
“Do you know what she wants? What she needs?”
Besides me?
“I think so.”
“Then give that to her in spades, and she’ll be putty in your hands.”
I don’t exactly want putty. I want the strong woman I saw last night. The spitfire who was brave enough to walk away from her rich lifestyle and get a job in a pub serving greasy food and dark beer. Although I don’t want what he’s suggesting, I understand the sentiment.
“Thanks, boss,” I say as I stand.
“Take all the time you need, and when you convince her, bring her to dinner at my house. Anna is dying to meet her.”
I’m smiling as I make my way to the door.
“And, Flynn?” I turn back to look at him. “Check in every once in a while so we know she hasn’t murdered you and left you to rot in a ditch.”
I laugh as I head back to my office and shut everything down. The smile is still on my face as I leave the BBS office because what Deacon said is true. The potential is always there for her to reject me. Good thing I’m resilient and trained to convince people to my way of thinking.
Thankfully, the grin on her face reflected in the window of the hotel she didn’t think I could see last night gives me hope.
I climb in my truck with a solid plan on how to get my girl.
Chapter 32
Remington
“I can ask, but I think I already know the answer.” The guy grins up at me, but there’s a hint of teasing in his eyes. It’s like he knows I’m inexperienced and is trying to put me through my paces. I head back to the kitchen with his question in my head. “Hey, Tom?”
“Yeah, sweetness?” I roll my eyes. Tom is an incessant flirt, and I’d consider it sexual harassment if he did anything other than use his mouth to say saucy things. The fact that he’s in his late sixties and putters around the kitchen doesn’t hurt his case either.
“The man at table fourteen wants to know if the steak burger is made with wagyu beef.”
I knew the answer, but figured he’d be happier with the answer if it came straight from the cook. Paddy’s isn’t the type of place that would carry meat that expensive.
He rolls his eyes, head shaking. “Is he about forty, a paunch of a belly, wearing a fucking Cubs hat?”
I’ve learned the Cubs are enemy number one around here, and many Cardinals fans are willing to shed blood to prove it.
“Yes,” I say slowly. “Does he come in here often?”
Tom slaps his hand towel on the side counter before tugging at the strings of his apron. “Only when he wants to get his ass beat.”
I step out of the way as Tom shuffles past me to the front of the house. “Tom, your kid is here,” Samuel says as he walks past. “Table fourteen.”
A wide smile spreads my face as I watch Tom get choked up, his arms wrapping the guy in a hug the moment he’s within arm’s reach.
“They don’t get to see each other much,” Samuel explains, reminding me I need to dash the tears from my eyes. “I’ll take over in the kitchen while they get a visit in. Macy just sat a new table at ten.”
My eyes drift down the wall, reluctant to stop watching the happy reunion. I can’t recall a single moment in my life when my mom or Charles showed that much emotion at seeing me. It makes me miss something I’ve never had, and sometimes I think that’s worse than losing something you were used to.
The happy yet sad smile fades when my eyes land on table ten. Flynn Coleman sits there, hands clasped on top of the table in front him, his eyes drilling into me. I blame the heat of the kitchen at my back for the warmth crawling up my neck, and then I do the only thing I can think of—I turn around and ignore him.
I walk past Flynn’s table over a dozen times over the next hour without looking directly at him. I can feel his eyes on me the entire time even tho
ugh he never makes a move to get my attention. My cheeks heat when I fumble a tray and nearly knock a bowl of soup in a lady’s lap. I’m clumsy today, something that hasn’t happened since the first week I started working. I’m self-conscious of my clothes, the uniform top not flattering on my frame one bit, but I keep going, keep walking past him, wondering when his fingers are going to sweep out and trace my hip as I pass.
It never happens.
He seems quite content to watch me flutter around the pub.
While waiting at the window for another table’s food, I watch Macy approach him. She has a confused look on her face as she speaks with him, and it makes me wonder if she’s going to get on to me for ignoring him. What started out as a little game may end up with my termination. He doesn’t frown when he speaks with her, but his eyes don’t light up the same way they do when he speaks to me. It makes my heart flutter before I can remind the stupid muscle that we’re still mad at him for what he did.
“That guy is weird. Possibly the hottest guy I’ve ever met, but still weird.”
“Oh yeah?” I don’t look back in his direction. With her no longer keeping him busy, I know his eyes are right back on me. What started out as stressful has morphed into warmth at the attention.
“I told him he had to order something or leave, and all he did was chuckle before telling me to tell Sam he said hi.”
“A name dropper?” I ask as I reach through the window for the burger and fries plate. “That’s kind of tacky.”
“Tacky is him not taking one look at my tits. Didn’t realize men like him even existed.”
I chuckle, knowing full well Flynn likes tits. Or maybe he just likes mine. He may have ignored them that first day, but there were times after that I caught him glancing when he didn’t think I was looking. Hell, he couldn’t keep his hands and mouth off of them when we made lo—
I clear my throat, scooping up the plate and walking away.
I work through my entire shift without saying a word to him. I didn’t even look in his direction when I dropped off a glass of ice water at his table. He didn’t ask for it, but I knew the man had to be thirsty. I hope he knows it’s the only apology I’m going to give for kicking him in the balls two nights ago.
Macy ends up being the one to shuffle him out the front door when it’s time to close up and count out. Surprisingly, he didn’t give her a hard time, but it made me a little sad watching his back disappear out the door as I watched through the tiny window in the kitchen.
Closing the pub down is easier now that I know the routine, but my blood is pumping wildly as I hand over the cash from my sales to Samuel at the end of the night.
“So, Flynn Coleman, huh?”
He doesn’t bother looking up from the money in his hands as he checks my math. At first, I was offended when he did this in front of me, but I realized very quickly that he does it with every waitress at the end of their shift.
“Who?” The question comes out as a squeak, but I don’t think he’d believe me if I managed it without the upward inflection either.
He sat down for over half an hour chatting with Flynn, and when he finally stood up to go back to his office, he didn’t say a word to me about the man not having a plate of food or a beer in front of him. I’m going to be humiliated if I find out Flynn laid all of our business at my boss’s feet.
Sam chuckles before handing me back a couple of bills. “Seems your head isn’t in it today. You’re over by thirty-seven bucks.”
“Really?” I mean, I’m not surprised. That insufferable man was here all day distracting me, but I shove the mistake deep into my pocket, grateful for the money even though it wouldn’t have made me bat an eyelash less than a month ago.
“See you tomorrow?”
“You got it, boss.”
Sam follows me to the front of the pub, unlocking the door for me and holding it open as I walk through.
“Goodnight, Remington.”
“Good—” I freeze in my tracks finding Flynn leaning up against a dark truck right in front of me. “N-night.”
Sam laughs before stepping back inside and locking the door at my back.
I ignore his smile. Ignore the way the moon makes his silky hair shine. I don’t even acknowledge the playfulness dripping from his gorgeous blue eyes.
I turn and walk back to my hotel, walking a little faster to test his own speed when I recognize his footsteps behind me. He speeds up. When I slow down, so does he, keeping a mere few feet of distance between us. He doesn’t reach for me or thrust me against the wall to wrap me in his arms or his scent. He’s not close enough to feel the warmth of his breath on my skin, but that doesn’t stop the goosebumps from forming on my arms either.
When I slow down to a crawl, he lines up beside me, eyes straight ahead with a gentle maddening smile teasing his full lips.
His hand brushes mine twice, but the contact is so brief, I don’t know if it was intentional or not.
By the time we make it to the front of my hotel, my breathing has changed. I’m turned on and bordering on livid. I want to hate him, but neither my mind nor my body will get onboard with those emotions.
Thinking he’s going to let me walk inside without a word or single touch, I nearly collapse when his arms encircle around my waist, fingers splayed on my lower body.
“I see you, Remington Blair, and I’m not going anywhere.”
He releases me just as fast as he touched me, and although my mouth opens and closes several times, no sound comes out. It’s for the best because I wouldn’t be able to speak past the lump lodged in my throat anyway.
The tears don’t fall until the elevator doors close in front of my face.
***
When I left the hotel to catch a cab, I fully expected Flynn to be waiting downstairs.
He wasn’t, and that’s how I ended up standing at the door to his condo rather than heading to the grocery store to restock my mini-fridge.
The text I got from an unknown number shocked me. It contained Flynn’s home address and a phone number. The text I sent back, demanding to know who it was and how they got my number was left unread. Curiosity, and maybe a hint of desperate need, is what landed me here.
My knock echoes down the empty hall behind me, but it doesn’t take long for the door to swing open.
“Rem—”
I push myself against his chest, pressing my mouth to his before he can get out my full name. Scenarios ran through my head on the entire drive over, making me wonder if it was a mistake, if it were possible that I’d show up and another woman was going to answer the door.
But he said he saw me, and I know he didn’t mean in the physical, technical sense. The words were exactly what I needed to hear, and when his arms circle my waist, lifting me off the floor, I have my answer. He’s alone and very happy to see me.
“Fuck, baby,” he grunts against my mouth, but I swallow his next sentence.
I didn’t come here to chat, and I make it clear when I reach down the front of his lounge pants. His cock, thick and ready, is hot in my hand, his mouth pulling away on a groan.
“Remington—”
I press my hand to his lips. “No talking.”
“No,” he snaps as I slide down his body, keeping the momentum after my feet hit the floor.
He pulls me up by the shoulders before I can even make it to my knees.
“No chance of surviving that tonight, baby.”
He lifts me once again, allowing space between our bodies as I rip my shirt off over my head, my bra landing near it on the floor in the next breath.
His mouth is on my heated flesh, tongue lashing against one nipple as he carries me down a darkened hallway. Plush, cool sheets meet my bare back as he lowers me, his mouth never leaving my skin.
“I’ve missed you, missed your smile, the scent of your skin. The taste of this pussy.” His mouth is between my legs the second after he pulls my pants down. They’re tangled around my knees, ass lifted in the air as h
e consumes me. I hate that I can’t watch him work me over, but the sensation of his mouth makes up for the lack of visual.
“Flynn,” I moan before biting my lip to the point of pain.
I knew what I wanted to happen when I gave the cabbie this address instead of the one to the grocery store, and I’m getting it in spades right now, but I also promised myself that I wouldn’t leave another piece of me behind when I left. The way his mouth is owning me, I know that’s an impossible pledge to keep.
When I come, thrashing wildly like a crazed person, he replaces his mouth with his fingers as he shoves his loungewear down. He shoves inside of me without a warning, a long, painful groan echoing around the room. There’s manic desperation in his eyes when he pulls my jeans off—only one leg—and spreads me wide.
“Goddamn, baby. Like a fucking glove.” His fingers toy with my clit, but even as oversensitized as it is from my orgasm mere moments ago, the damn thing is still throbbing with need, my greedy body offering itself up entirely to this man, practically humming and begging for more, more, more.
His eyelids are half-mast, his mouth open like he can’t believe I’m under him, and it’s that emotion brewing in his stormy blue eyes that makes me look away. His fingers caress my cheek, urging me to look back up at him, but my fragile heart can’t take it. When he turns my cheek, I let my eyes close.
The unrelenting bastard slows his drives, his hips making slow, languid, maddening circles instead of the near-violent thrusts he started out with. Then he lowers his body on top of mine, making sure his hulking frame is supported by his elbows at my head so I’m not crushed. The weight of him nearly kills me. But it’s the closeness, the intimacy that threatens to make the pain bubble from my throat.
“Please don’t,” I beg.
“Remi.” My name is a whisper on his lips, the syllables floating against my sweat-slicked skin like a promise, and it nearly guts me
“Faster. Please fuck me faster.”
He doesn’t listen. He doesn’t go deeper or put more force behind his hips. The bastard maintains his pace, luring an orgasm from my body like someone would persuade a scared kitten out of a corner.
