by Stacy Lane
“I’m sorry.” She feigns by placing a hand over her chest, an Apple pencil set between her fingers. “I thought I was being paid to tell you when something is ugly as hell and just won’t work.”
“Sunshine, I hope you don’t talk to all of your clients this way.” Damn, she’s cute when telling me off.
“You are definitely an exception.” Chelsea slaps a blue donate sticker on the table’s surface.
We were in my office. It was bare for the most part. I needed a desk and the expansive range of the shelves needed to be filled. The table I brought in sat beside a chair I have been using to go over paperwork. The draft was three days away. I had an office with the Fury, but the one inside my home suited me better. Even if it was bare.
Okay, I was working out of this hollow space because I knew Chelsea would be popping in and out.
I tucked both hands in the front pockets of my pants. The jacket was removed long ago, and I rolled up the sleeves of my sky blue shirt. “Fine. It’s not about how expensive it was. But I’m using this room the most, and even if I wasn’t, you’ve blue labeled all of the furniture. I need to be able to work somewhere.”
“I have that covered.” She tapped and wrote away on her iPad. “Your desk should be arriving within thirty minutes.”
“I didn’t pick out a desk. Why would you order a desk?”
“Marcus said you needed this room more than the others. He told me what you were looking for in a desk. Remember the assistant I was told I’d be working with more than you?” She looks up from her notes, staring me down. I grind my back teeth since she was correct. “I think you’ll love it. It’s wood, and wood goes with everything.”
My mouth opens to reply, and my hands reach out to grab her. To kiss her. Her take-charge attitude is really fucking hot. I’ll let her boss me around all day, every day. But I say nothing and all I grab is air.
Chelsea spun on her skinny heels, heading for the door. “C’mon. Let’s discuss the living room furniture. Spoiler alert: Most of it isn’t staying.”
The woman is tormenting me. Not only by leaving my house practically bare after I went through the headache of getting all of it here in the first place but strutting around my house with her gorgeous, tan legs on full display. I’m trying so hard to respect her professionally by keeping my mouth shut while she works. Doesn’t mean I can make my eyes share the same manners.
Pink of any shade—especially this blush pink—looks fantastic on her. It reminds me of the dress she wore to the gala.
She speaks with one of the men here to pack my stuff.
Chelsea’s laughter trickles around the room, and I look up. A beefy hand is stroking along her arm.
Closing the space, I walk up behind Chelsea, stopping too close to be considered professional. But neither is this prick’s meaty hand on her. I’m the only one allowed to break professionalism with Chelsea Lewis.
“There’s a table in the office that needs to be taken away. Now.”
The green-eyed boy jumps back, eyes flicking between Chelsea and me. He’s supposed to take orders from her but scurries away at my command.
I follow his bad haircut until he’s out of sight.
Chelsea glares at me, pissed.
“They work for me, not you.”
“I remember you working just fine on your own when you did Cheryl’s sunroom. Why do you have to hire these clowns?”
Chelsea does a lot of her own designs. In the couple of weeks we lived together, I witnessed her sewing, painting, and toting around a tool bag. Everything had a pink handle, but don’t let the color fool you. The woman knew how to put together a shelf better than I could.
“Did you bring your tool bag?” I ask out of the blue.
“Yes. And Cheryl’s sunroom is nothing compared to the amount of work I’m doing in your home.”
“That’s fair. I just don’t want guys like him taking advantage of you.”
A hand falls to her hip. “That is so sexist, Alex.”
“He was touching you.”
“Maybe calloused, hard-working hands is something I like.” Her testy, teasing voice prompts my rebuttal.
“I know what you like.” I step closer. “And if I see anyone touch you like that again, I’m going to break their hands.”
Chelsea’s breath hitches.
I turn to face the living room, eyeing up the brown leather sectional. “So the couch. Blue sticker?”
She recovers with a huff, stomping across the room and smacking the cushion with a pink sticker.
“Pink. That’s new. Where is that going?” I stand back and watch as she coasts around the room, tagging blue, green, and yellow labels on my belongings without consulting me at all.
“Women’s shelter. I’ve been donating to one since I first moved here. They could use a new sofa.”
A hole in my chest opens up just for her. I love her kindness. She’s always thinking of others.
“Maybe they could use a new table—”
“I’ve been working on their relaxation suite for a year. I will not ruin it with your ugly table.”
I laugh. Peering around at my stuff, I say to her, “My ex bought most of this stuff. I always hated how everything was brown or black.”
“She had terrible taste. I’m relieved, actually. I thought all of this was of your choosing.”
“We can’t all be interior designers, sunshine.”
“Good thing you have me,” she quipped, checking something off her list. “Alright, that was the final room. I’m going to stick around until your desk gets here and then I have to go… Why are you looking at me like that?”
I like when Chelsea gets mad at me because then I know she feels safe to be able to react that way.
But I don’t want her mad at me. I want her to love me.
“Go on a date with me.” Everything I’ve wanted to say vanishes and rushes out into that one insistence.
Chelsea freezes, then finally breaks with a flutter of blinks. Hugging the iPad to her chest, she asks, “Where to?”
“Wherever you want to go. Dinner, a movie, miniature golf, Paris.”
Chelsea sputters out a choked laugh at the last suggestion. “That went from basic to extreme really quick.”
“I just want to go out with you, Chelsea.” When I voiced my real feelings about Chelsea to my brothers, it unlocked and freed every reluctance I’ve been harboring. We had nothing but time now. But I didn’t want to waste a minute of it.
“We don’t need to hide.”
“What changed?”
At the moment, nothing.
I’ve done all I can do to prevent a breach of contract hopefully. The final decision was out of my hands. For now, what I’ve revealed to Mr. Kendricks is remaining an internal affair. They do not want to involve Vic unless necessary. Which it will be. Come October, Chelsea and I will be together whether they release me or not.
My biggest disadvantage was how new to the team I was. The advantage? Kendricks has hated the addendum since human resources suggested it.
“You came back.” I step closer to her.
“And you knew that two weeks ago.”
“I have a bad habit of denial.”
Chelsea turns her focus back to the iPad, pen tapping away. She still hasn’t answered me.
She’s making me work for that yes, but I don’t mind.
“Since we’ve gotten back from the Bahamas, I’ve known every time you have gone out with Jo,” I say, pressing in. “And every time I had to make myself stay away. I had to convince myself the feelings I have for you would eventually fade.” Her chin lifts, but just barely. “When you showed up here two days ago, those feelings were stronger than ever. And I asked myself, why would I want that to fade?”
Chelsea finally looks at me. The dark brown depths were swirling with emotion. “What about your position with the Fury? And Vic?”
“He cannot control you anymore. If I want to be with you, I can’t let him have that control eith
er.”
Chelsea nibbles at her lip. I run my thumb along the bottom of her mouth, freeing the pink, plump skin before she rubs it raw.
“Will you go out with me?” I ask, needing an answer so I can kiss her supple lips.
“Yes.” Chelsea blinds me with a big smile. “But we don’t have to go out in public just to prove you’re serious about not hiding this time. There’s a warm spaghetti dinner prepared by you that I’m owed.”
“You blue labeled that, remember?” I tip my chin in the direction of the empty dining room. The guys have already loaded the table out to their truck.
“I ordered a new table. It’ll be here tomorrow.”
Brows lowering, I reply, “I haven’t approved anything. And you just stickered it this morning.”
“I was ordering your new one while you delivered that sweet speech.”
My mouth falls opens.
“Haven’t you learned already. You don’t get a say in the redesign.”
Groaning, I cup her face with both hands. Before I can kiss that smart mouth, a throat clears near the bottom of the stairs.
Green-eyed, beefy hands shuffles his feet, avoiding direct eye contact with us. “The gate is buzzing. Should I let them in?”
Chelsea steps away, clearing her throat. “Yes, thank you.”
I’m being cockblocked in my own home.
“No more of that during the day if you want me to keep working for you,” she says, lifting her iPad and pen, back in business mode.
“If you’re going to put rules in place, at least make them reasonable.”
“We can negotiate over dinner. Until then, hands off.” Chelsea walks to the front door, glancing over her shoulder with a grin before stepping out into the warm, bright sunshine.
On the way back to my empty office, now that Chelsea axed my beloved table, her colored sticky notes catch my sight.
Glancing over my shoulder, assured she is not watching, I swap out a yellow tag for a green one on a couple of items sitting on the mantle in the living room.
She won’t notice.
CHAPTER 23
CHELSEA
AFTER A WEEK of dating Alex, I feel like Wile E. Coyote from Looney Tunes.
Alex and I are going on our third date. We’re having fun, fooling around, and getting to know each other. Since our relationship started with sex, I had the brilliant idea to put any and all naked time on the back burner. There’s been a lot of hand action that has taken me right to the edge.
I set myself on fire.
I strapped myself to the rocket, waiting for that elusive satisfaction of an ending (orgasm, i.e. killing the Roadrunner) but I’m just left burning. Hot and bothered, and scheming for my next devious plan.
Because I will catch that Roadrunner.
Our first date was the night before Alex had to leave for the draft. We had a nice, warm meal that could have easily been ruined like before, but we behaved. He let me pick out a movie and we watched it together in his theater room. It was the one room I wasn’t redecorating. Similar to the movie room at the island house, there were rows of soft, cushy couches. We made out like teenagers. Then I went home.
Our second date was fun. Alex took me to an escape room. A group of six friends let us join them. Alex said I could befriend a beaver. They weren’t all that bad.
We were locked inside a room with no way out. I had to make them like me.
I loved that night especially. We were just another couple on a date. We held hands and he opened doors and pulled me into him with a protectiveness when other guys tried getting a little too close.
Tonight was Taytum and Nick’s engagement party. My friends did not know I would be showing up with a date, let alone Alex. And of course, he was arriving at my apartment early.
Even if he had been late, I wouldn’t have been ready yet.
“Hi. Sorry. I’m running behind.” I opened the door to his drool-worthy appearance and smell. Too preoccupied ogling Alex, I forgot how I had to answer in haste.
Damn. That was my date.
Alex filled out a suit like no one else, but in casual wear, he turned my brain to goo. It was the combo of his clothes saying laid back and his broody face telling you otherwise.
He pushed me inside the apartment with his body. “I hope you don’t answer the door for just anyone dressed like that.”
“Only my special friends,” I grin, lifting one dribbling wet shoulder.
I had just shut the water off to my shower when Alex knocked.
“And how many special friends do you have, sunshine?” He backed me up to the wall.
“You,” I breathe.
Oh, please, let this be the reason we’re going to be late.
He dipped his face to my neck, licking a droplet falling from chin to base. Nipping at my mouth, he says, “Get dressed.”
“Then my clothes will be in the way.” I’m aware that I’m pouting, but I don’t care.
“I like having something to remove.” His husky response only makes me add a stomp to the pout.
Cutting through the bathroom, I step through the second door and into my bedroom. I left the dress I was wearing tonight on the bed with my underwear. Dropping the towel, I slip into the red bra and panties, and then my orange dress. It’s long sleeve, slinky, and really short.
I’m in the bathroom doing my makeup when Alex’s voice comes from my room.
“What made you late tonight?”
The hand gripping the foundation bottle halts. “I can skip makeup if you don’t want to be too late. Or I can do it in the car.”
Without looking at him, I start gathering the necessities to toss into a makeup bag.
“Chelsea.” Alex stands closer. I look up to find him leaning on the door frame between my room and bathroom. “Take your time. I’m not rushing you.”
“Oh. Sorry.” At his narrowing gaze, I smile. He’s working on getting me to say that less. “I can do my makeup in the car though.”
“What’s easier for you?”
“Uh. Probably here.”
“Then keep doing what you’re doing. Your friends will understand if we’re late.”
“Kiss me once before I put lipstick on.” I press into his chest with mine.
Alex grabs onto my head with both palms, maneuvering me however he likes. He sucks on my bottom lip, spreading me open. After his tongue is inside my mouth, I grip his hips. Grinding on what I can, I’m stopped short when he ends the kiss and spins me toward the makeup laid out on the counter.
He swats at my ass. “I know you wear that sorcery lip stuff, so I can kiss you whenever I want.”
“Sorcery?” I chuckle.
“That shit doesn’t budge. And I’ve purposely kissed you in ways to try to get it to smear.”
I laugh so hard he rolls his eyes.
“So why were you running late?” he asks.
Groaning, I answer him while staring back at myself in the mirror. “A client.”
“I’m your client.”
“You’re not my only client, Alex,” I reply with a smile. “She’s an acquaintance I met last year through Vic. Nice when I met her and nice when she hired me, but suddenly she’s a nightmare to work with.”
“Did she have a beloved table that you forced her to part with too?”
“Ha-ha. No. She keeps changing her mind because my designs aren’t what she envisioned.” I move through the steps of applying my makeup quicker than usual. No doubt quicker since I’m skipping over some for the sake of saving time. I can go without blush, but not my bronzer.
“Your style won’t always be to everyone’s liking. Maybe you should just let her find someone else.”
I sigh. “I need to build a good reputation, and she knows a lot of big people around town. I don’t want to seem like a failure by quitting, so I’m doing what she asks for even though it’s not my preference.”
“Chelsea, don’t sacrifice your creativity because some knob nose has the ear of a lot of people.”
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“In theory, that sounds great. But in reality, I have to make a living on my own. I have to do what brings in the work. I’m still decorating, and that’s what matters.”
He’s quiet, so I glance over. I can tell he wants to argue. A year ago, I would have had the same mindset as him. Turns out, following your dreams doesn’t make you rich overnight. So I’m compromising. Doesn’t make it any less of my dream.
“Have you told Jo or Taytum about us?” he asks.
“No. Have you told your brothers? Brooks is going to be there.”
“They knew where I stood about you, but I never told them I finally acted on it.” His smoky eyes drop to my bright red lips.
“Well, let’s go tell them.” I spin, tossing the red lippie in my small purse.
• • •
THE ENGAGEMENT PARTY was being held at a large hall. Nick has a big family. Taytum sums it up as “he’s Hispanic.”
I’ve gone to many galas and dinners and brunches, some with the same amount of people in attendance tonight. But none of the rich has ever thrown a party quite like this one.
And this was a celebration of their engagement. I can’t imagine what the wedding festivities will be like.
When Alex and I walked in together, everyone knew it whether they were looking in our direction or not. That was courtesy of the bride-to-be. Taytum screeched from clear across the room. Approaching us, she yammered the entire way to Alex. I believe her words were, “About time you got your head out of your ass, Labelle.”
Most of the guests were more concerned with two Labelle brothers being in attendance than what my friends were excited about. Nick had a lot of buddies who were big hockey fans.
With all the attention on our arrival, it felt like my engagement party instead of Taytum’s.
I liked our bubble. Of course, being out in the open with Alex was ultimately the idea. But there was a comfort knowing only him and I were in this relationship. I worried about outsiders messing with that.
Sitting at the table beside Alex, I was cooling down after dancing with one of Nick’s cousins. The Latin way of dancing intrigued me. I was dying to get out there with them and try it. I went out on a limb to ask Alex if he wanted to dance. His response did more for me than him directly saying no.
