by Lindsey Hart
It’s a busy street. Cars race past. Even though it’s just a double lane, it seems busier than usual. I silently debate the chances of getting across in one piece, just so I can leave Aria on the other side. It would be worth getting hit by a bus just so I wouldn’t have to put up with her noxious company. Lord, I have no idea how my sister can actually stand her, let alone like her.
It’s just about noon, and already, it’s been a long freaking day. I take one step; Aria lets out a shriek. Her hand curls around my elbow and jerks me back. Her. Hand. On. My. Bare. Arm.
For some reason, I’m more focused on that than I am on the white cab that goes speeding by, its illuminated sign on the top of the car streaking by in a blur.
“Are you crazy?” Aria hisses. Her fingers bite into my skin. “You just about got your ass run over. Being offended about my lack of tact about the shitty decision you made to eat gas station sushi that was probably three days old and more toxic than nuclear waste would be the least of your worries.”
I slowly move my arm away. Her hand falls back to her side. She has her tote on her shoulder, the files in one hand. She’d grabbed and pulled me back with her other hand. I’m slightly impressed. But only slightly. My arm is still tingling, probably because her fingers were like claws. Not because I’m watching her chest heave up and down in the tight pink dress she has on. Not because her chest looks kind of nice doing that heaving. Not because with her cheeks stained pink with anger, her eyes flashing, and her lips parted, she’s actually quite attractive. Not because, when I drop my eyes, her legs are shapely and sexy sticking out of that dress.
“Lucas? Seriously. If you don’t want to do this that badly…please don’t injure yourself. Don’t step into traffic, and don’t give yourself food poisoning. Just…give me the list tomorrow, and you can go on your way. I’m not going to explain to your sister that you did yourself in just so you didn’t have to see my face for the next week.”
“You really think this is about you? You’re giving yourself far too much credit here.”
“Well…it is a little suspicious.”
“I’m not backing out. I need the money you said you’d pay me.” Fuck me with a rusty rake and a venomous snake. Did I really just spit that out?
“Uh—well—okay. If you’re not backing out, then I demand you have lunch with me. There. At that diner. A business lunch. I want to go over a few things we talked about this morning. I want to get your opinion on some new ideas I had. I jotted them down while Mr. Johnson was talking.”
“I can’t wait to hear them,” I say dryly. Aria’s chest is still heaving, and my eyes are invariably drawn there. She pauses. I freeze.
“Did you—just—did you just check out my boobs?”
“No! I was looking at the folders you’re holding. Trying to learn by osmosis what your brilliant ideas were. I was preparing myself for having to bite back more than a few snarky comebacks about how bad they’re sure to be.”
“You’re an asshole. You know that, Lucas Dawson?”
“I know. And yet, you still want my help. Me. Why? When you could have asked anyone?”
“Because I don’t trust just anyone. I thought you’d be the safer bet instead of rolling the dice with someone who would just fuck me over, steal money from me, and put people in place who would do the same. I actually don’t want to fail at this. I want to see this company continue to thrive. I think we’ve already established that. So, I asked for you. Because no matter what you think of me, I know you wouldn’t be that heartless. Cassie would never let you get away with it.”
“I wouldn’t put all your faith in me.”
“Believe me. I’m not that stupid. I just need your help. I can trust you to give me that, and honestly? You don’t need to steal from me if I’m paying you. Which, by the way, why do you need that money so suddenly? Don’t you make enough of your own being a business miracle worker? Or do grocery stores not pay?”
“I don’t get paid like that to do what I do,” I grind out, tight-lipped. I wonder why I’m even telling her this. “I’m on a salary. I—have other things I might want to do.”
“But you were willing to help me without the money at all. I only offered it after.”
“It’s a good incentive to do a better job. I’m sure that was your aim. To keep me accountable.”
Aria’s nose wrinkles up. I will not think it looks marginally adorable. I will not think that. I will not. “I think you can keep yourself accountable. But now that you decided to blurt it out—after your near-death experience with that cab—that you actually have a use for it and need it, I want to know what it is. Are you going to tell me?”
I don’t want to admit defeat. I seriously don’t. But the money Aria’s paying me is a huge sum. No one would turn down that kind of money. I could finally do the things I’ve been saving up to do. Open up my own business. Live my own life. My own dreams. At thirty-five, it can’t come too soon. I’m ready. This is the chance I’ve been waiting a lifetime for.
“I guess I’ll tell you,” I sigh, “since I know you aren’t going to give up pestering me until I do.” I turn towards the street again, facing the random diner. I really hope they serve something better than the gas station sushi. I can’t take round two with food poisoning. The first round kicked my ass quite sufficiently, thank you. “We’ll talk about it over lunch.”
CHAPTER 6
Aria
Somehow, somewhere, fate, destiny, flaw, or fluke—whatever I have to thank for this impromptu lunch, whatever, whoever, wherever, I’m sending out all my good vibes in repayment. Because seriously.
I’m sitting, in an actual diner, right across from Lucas Dawson. He isn’t even scowling at me. He’s actually cramming a triple burger into his mouth so fast you’d think he hasn’t seen food for days. And…I guess he probably hasn’t since he was giving his stomach a break from life.
Since I wanted to be a little more dignified than dribbling sauce down one arm and slurping at onions and tomatoes trying to escape a burger, I chose a turkey wrap complete with fries, and of course, I ordered a massive piece of cherry pie. This is a diner after all. It looks retro on the outside, and on the inside, it’s even better. Hello, red vinyl benches, Formica tabletops, and black and white checkered floors. There’s even a jukebox in the corner. The fact that it might not even be operational doesn’t really matter. It’s still cool. The walls are filled with vintage pictures of old restaurants and vinyl records pasted here and there. It’s got a pretty cool vibe, even if it is a little corny and clichéd. I appreciate the effort, especially when it comes to the counter at the front with the swivel stools and the pie display.
Pie.
I freaking love pie.
“Looks like that burger is pretty fucking good.”
Lucas pauses. He studies me with his burger jammed into his face. A new dribble of barbeque sauce drips down his left hand. My mouth waters. My nipples pucker. I want to lick the sauce off. Is it wrong to be insanely envious of sauce? Because I am. Seriously.
He slowly lowers the burger. Stares at his hand. Stares at me. Then, he bends his head and licks the sauce off his wrist and fingers.
Ouch. Watching him do that feels like someone just kickboxed me. Except, you know, in a good way. If there was a good way to get kicked in the lady bits. They’re tingly. Maybe that kick carried an electric current with it.
Oh my sweet, succulent, mouth-watering pie, is it wrong that I want to lick Lucas’s tongue too? Of course, the surrounding areas too, his lips, chin, cheeks, neck—they wouldn’t be bad either.
“Sorry. You didn’t have to stop. I appreciate the enthusiasm you’re using to attack your burger. Don’t worry about me. I’m not offended by messy eaters.”
“You—you—cursed, though.”
“Fuck? Because I said the word fuck? I didn’t think, in the case of that burger and the gusto with which it was disappearing, that it required the use of regular language. I thought I had to tack on an expletive to
help give meaning to what was really happening. There’s a big difference between good and fucking good.”
Lucas keeps staring at me. Suddenly, I’m the one who feels like there’s a fire in my face.
“Should I not curse? Haven’t you ever heard me swear before? Do you think women shouldn’t swear? Lucas? Hello? Why are you looking at me like that?”
Lucas raises his burger back to the mouth level. “I just didn’t think you ate carbs. That’s all.”
I let out a huff. “I’ll have you know that the menu said these were both gluten-free. So, I should be good.”
“There are—oh. You’re trying to be funny. I get it.”
“If I kicked you in the balls under the table and made a testicle shish kebab with my heel, would you get that too?”
Lucas can’t hold a straight face. He laughs, raises his hand up in front of his full mouth, nearly chokes, goes for his water, nearly spills it, swallows hard, and makes a gaspy, choking, laughing sort of noise.
“I’ve heard from my sister that your bark is worse than your bite, but I think she might be wrong. Very wrong.”
“I’m sure Cassie has no idea what she’s talking about,” I say coyly.
“Do you always wear pink? And how the heck do you walk in those heels? I think they’re bad for your health, just an FYI. They give you varicose veins later in life and back pain.”
“How would you know that? Do you wear them in your free time?”
“Certainly. As soon as I get home, off go the regular manly shoes and on go the high heels. Size fourteen, if you please. I have to get them specially made since my feet are so big, but it’s definitely worth the astronomical prices I pay. Beauty—can’t put a price tag on that.”
I’m glad I didn’t try and take a bite of anything or a sip of my water because I know I would have choked or sprayed it everywhere. I can’t stop one of those snort-laughs from happening. The kind where the laughter gets so intense that you can’t breathe and you keep trying to suck in a breath and end up snorting.
“Oh my god,” I gasp after a particularly undignified snort. “I don’t think Cassie knows. In this case, don’t count on me to keep your secret. I’m sure she’d appreciate the ammunition if I gave it to her. Although, she always says you’re nice to her. She actually thinks you’re a decent human being. I guess you save all the trash talking and disdain for me.”
Lucas’s eyes nearly pop out of his head and go rolling onto the table. “I can’t believe the things you say. You have no filter, do you?”
“Not usually. Why would I bother filtering things out?” There’s a lot I filter out, but I’m not going to tell Lucas that. I’m not going to declare undying professions of love anytime soon. Love. Love is a stupid word. One which I don’t plan on using on anyone anytime soon. I love only two people in the entire world. Rin and Cassie. I’m not going to declare my undying declarations of lust anytime soon, either.
Lucas shrugs. He resumes eating his very messy, very massive burger. I resume watching. The strange electrical current buzzing through my lady bits and hardening my nipples resumes too. We finish our lunch in silence, or at least, the silence lasts until I’m done with my wrap. Besides me and Lucas, there are a few other couples and a few families in the diner, and they don’t stop talking. The gentle hum of conversation blanketing the small space is kind of nice.
I feel bad when I get to the pie. Lucas didn’t order any pie—just the burger, and he’s eyeing the thing up like it’s his last meal. I’m about to dig into the pie and savor it slowly, but honestly, not even I have the heart for it. Annnnd Lucas’s eyes on me might be making me a little uncomfortable. In the panties.
“Uh—do you want to split this? It’s too big for me to eat it all, and I really don’t need another thing to try and balance as I walk down the street. I think I’ve got enough already.”
“And here I thought—since you’re obviously paying for lunch—that you’d offer to buy me my own slice.”
“Me? Jeez, you’re a real gentleman, Lucas.”
“Of course, you. You’re the one with hotels coming out the wazoo. I didn’t know your grandfather’s empire was that big. Thank god he had the sense to make his new twenty-two-year-old wife sign the paperwork writing her out of it. I guess living the good life for a while is payment enough.”
“You’re terrible.”
“It’s true.”
“I don’t want to think about my grandpa and a twenty-two-year-old together. I’m glad he took care of the business. Of course, he would. It’s the only thing he ever cared about, at least up until now. As for his twenty-two-year-old wife, I’m sure she deserves something for having to put up with him at the bare minimum. I’m sure he’ll leave her with a nice car and a huge house and a few million. She doesn’t need the hotels. She’ll be set for life.”
Lucas, to his credit, ignores my bitter mutterings. He grabs the pie, cuts it in half with his fork, shoves half on his plate, and slides the plate back to me.
“You took the bigger half!”
“You have sixty-eight hotels in Europe, eighteen in Canada, and fifty-nine in the US. I think you can live with having the small slice of pie for today.”
“Whatever.” I dig my fork into the pie. The crust is so light and crispy, the filling gooey. I know it’s going to be delicious, but then I taste it, and it’s beyond delicious. It’s straight into foodgasm territory.
“This is pretty good,” Lucas admits, after trying a bite. “I’ll give you that.”
“Why? You think that because I chose it, it’s not good? You’re such an ass; you know that? You think I’m bad? You’re a thousand times worse because I know you’re not really a mean-spirited person, and yet, here you are, making a point of it. You’re not even doing this as a favor anymore. You’re doing it because I’m paying you. You could at least pretend to not hate my company.”
“I’ll pretend to consider it.”
I sigh. Take another bite of pie. Nearly groan in pleasure. I must actually have made some kind of noise because suddenly, Lucas is looking at me funny. And I mean funny. All of a sudden, I get flustered. I don’t get flustered. Ever. I try and cover it because maybe I did just moan a little when I munched down on that divine pie.
“Uh—you were—going to tell me about what you were using the money for. I–I want to know. Uh…please.” Please. That word still rolls out like it’s being pulled all the way from the tips of my toes with tongs that are going down through my throat.
Lucas finishes off his piece of the pie and cleans his plate with his fork.
“You want another?” I ask, in a killer syrupy tone. “To go?”
“Yes. Thanks. I’ll take a pie if you’re offering.”
“Okay. I’ll buy you a pie if you tell me what you want to do with the money.”
“Why? So you can mock me? Shit all over my ideas? Be the traditionally mean, hoity-toity, snarky version of yourself? Give me a hundred of your ideas that you think are better?”
Something…hurts. My chest. It suddenly feels like it’s being sat on by a pissed off elephant. Or maybe a whole herd of elephants. I pick at my pie. There’s a good chunk left, but I’m pretty sure it would be tasteless. Just like Lucas thinks I am.
“It’s okay,” I mumble. This isn’t me. This. Isn’t. Me. I force myself to raise my head, and I paste on a smile that probably looks a tad bit evil because yeah, it’s fake as hell. Normally, I’m good at mastering the fake expressions. I can be sugary and sweet, even sappy when I want to be. Right now? I’ll give whatever smile I damn well please, and no, it’s not that nice. “You don’t have to tell me. I’ll see you tomorrow morning at nine. I’m sick of driving down here to the lawyer’s office, and we don’t need them right now for hiring and stuff. We have an HR department for that. They’ll take care of the paperwork. Until then, I get the decisions for hiring. Please bring the list to my condo tomorrow. And yourself. And your advice. Thanks in advance.”
He wants bitchy? Mean?
Snappy? Traditional Aria? I’ll give him that. I’ll give him all of it. Snappy, flashy eyes, and a smile. That’s my usual combination. Not a sneer. You can sneer with a smile, and I think I’ve perfected bitchy smiles.
I give Lucas one now.
He turns bright red, grips the table, and looks like he wants to either yell at me or apologize. I’m not going to give him a chance to do either.
This isn’t about getting personal. This is about the hotels.
Only. About. The. Hotels.
I’m annoyed with Lucas. I’m annoyed with myself for being annoyed with him. I’m annoyed at my shivery lady bits for noticing that Lucas looks as hot as ever today, in a simple black T-shirt and faded jeans. I hate that I noticed his hair is so deliciously tousled, and that he has just the thinnest layer of stubble. I hate that I still want to lick him. Even after he was an asshole all morning and during lunch.
I gather up my stuff before Lucas can edge a word out. When I get to the front, I fish out a hundred and leave it at the till without waiting for someone to come and actually ring up the lunch. I whirl around, my smile still flawlessly in place.
“Pick whatever pie you want. That should cover it.”
I flick my hair over my shoulder and stalk out. Thank god I don’t catch my heels on anything and stumble. That would kind of ruin my fuck you, Lucas exit. I throw open the door, making the bell hanging above jingle wildly. Luckily, we had a window booth, and Lucas is still sitting there, looking a little perturbed. Also, luckily, he turns his head to face me as I stride by, head held high.
I put my middle finger up to the window level and flash it the entire way.
I don’t drop it until I reach the end of the diner.
CHAPTER 7
Lucas
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
I thought I was equipped to deal with Aria Watson. I was wrong. Terribly. Wrong. Aria Watson doesn’t just have lady balls. She has lady balls the size of grapefruits and harder than diamonds. She has titanium lady balls. Titanium watermelon-sized lady balls.
