by Green, Megan
She needs a bed.
And being the inhospitable asshole that I am, I don’t have what you would call a guest room. The office has a pull-out couch that’s about as comfortable as sleeping on bricks for when my little sister comes to visit, but that won’t do to help soothe Monroe’s aches and pains.
So, I carry her up the stairs, depositing her on the left side of my bed as I pull back the bedding on the right. Once it’s ready, I help slide her in between the sheets, tucking them up around her and ensuring she’s once again sound asleep before making my way into the master bath.
I pull some cold medicine from the medicine cabinet and fill the glass on the edge of the sink with water. Returning to the bedroom, I place both on the nightstand for when she wakes. With one last look to make sure all is okay; I smooth her hair back from her face.
“Sleep tight, Monroe. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.”
She turns her face into my touch, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d swear a small smile crosses her lips as she settles herself into my bed.
But there’s no way that happened. This is Monroe we’re talking about here. A woman who’d been in the middle of telling me how she could handle herself when she’d passed out from exhaustion. There’s no way in hell she’d be smiling at the prospect of me caring for her.
I leave the room, pulling the door shut behind me. I head back downstairs and out to my car, grabbing my cell from the cup holder I’d left it in. Benton has called four times, so I assume his meeting is over. I don’t bother listening to his messages, knowing they’ll all be some variation of “what the fuck is going on, bro?” The first call came in almost ten minutes ago, so it shouldn’t be long before he shows up.
I walk back inside, pausing briefly at the bottom of the stairs to listen. When there’s no sign of Monroe stirring, I head to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.
I’ve just about got my mug doctored the way I like it when my front door flings open.
“What the fuck is going on, Barr?” Benton’s voice booms out. And if I wasn’t so worried about the asshole waking Monroe, I’d laugh at his predictability.
“Shut the fuck up,” I whisper-yell, coming out of the kitchen to berate him.
Benton gives me a wary look. “Why the fuck are you whispering?” he asks, not lowering his voice even a fraction.
I reach out and smack him on the back of the head. “I told you to shut up.”
He finally takes the hint, rubbing his head with one hand as he regards me. “What is going on, man? You leave me this dick message, and then you don’t even bother answering your phone when I call. And now you’re smacking me and telling me I can’t talk. What gives?”
I point up the stairs. “Monroe is up there.”
“Monroe is what?” he shouts, earning him another smack. He winces. “Sorry,” he says, correcting his tone. “But what the fuck do you mean Monroe is up there? Please tell me you didn’t…” He trails off, but his implication is clear.
“No,” I scoff. “Of course not.” I mean, it’s technically not a lie. Monroe and I didn’t sleep together.
Not today anyway.
He lets out a relieved breath, but it’s short-lived. “Then why is she in your room, Barr?”
I give him a cutting glare, not appreciating his accusatory tone. “Because, Ben, I was on my way into the office this morning when I passed by The Park. Wanna know whose car I saw parked out front?”
Benton’s eyebrows pull together. “The Park?”
I nod. “Yeah, The Park. Monroe has apparently been staying there. Please tell me you didn’t know that, Ben.”
He shakes his head. “Of course not. She told me she was staying at a hotel downtown until she could find a place more permanent. I never would’ve let her stay there had I known. You know what kind of people stay at The Park.”
I give him an assessing look, but I know he’s not feeding me bullshit. Benton can be a lot of things, but he’s nothing if not a good dude. And now that I’ve said the words, I feel a little shitty for even thinking he’d be okay with his good friend staying at that fleabag.
“To top it all off,” I continue. “When I stopped to see just what the fuck she was doing there, she answered the door looking like death warmed over. Seriously, dude. I’ve never seen someone look quite so...sick. At least not outside the hospital.”
Benton nods his head. “She sent me a text this morning to let me know she wouldn’t make it in. Smith’s kid caught something at school, and I guess gave it to Smith. Smith, in turn, gave it to Monroe. I wouldn’t be surprised if half the crew goes down with it.”
“Wonderful,” I say, scrubbing my hands over my face. “Just what we need. We finally start making some headway on this damn job, and all our employees fall victim to the plague.”
Benton laughs. “Funny. That’s exactly what Monroe called it when she told me she was sick this morning.”
I shoot him a sardonic look. “I fail to see how this is funny, Benton.”
He holds his hands up in defeat. “Calm down, bro. I’m just saying. I know you and Monroe had kind of a rocky start. But the two of you have more in common than you think. You should give her a chance.”
I’d like to give her more than that, I think. Apparently, not even an infectious Monroe is enough to keep my dick at bay.
“Pretty sure I’ve been giving her a chance. She still has a job, doesn’t she?”
Benton scoffs. “Not what I meant. I mean I think if you could pull your head out of your ass long enough to see straight, I think you’d really like her. I dare say, you might even be friends.”
“Yeah, well,” I say, pointing back up my staircase. “I guess the two of us are gonna get pretty close here for a bit. Because until she’s feeling better, there’s no way I’m letting her leave. Especially, not to go back to The Park.”
Benton nods. “Yeah, we’ve got to figure out someplace else for her to go. You cool with her staying here until we can find somewhere better?”
I shrug. “Doesn’t look like I have much of a choice. That dump you bought definitely isn’t ready. I’m surprised you can even sleep there with all the dust.”
Benton had bought a rundown old home last year and has slowly been fixing it up. It’s going to be amazing once it’s all done. But with the way business has been going…
Well, who knows when he’ll finally have the cash to finish it?
Benton looks back up the stairs. “I can’t believe she was staying at The Park and didn’t tell me.”
I give him a dubious look. “Really, Ben? I know I don’t know her as well as you, but Monroe doesn’t exactly strike me as the type to willingly ask for help.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “No, you’re right. She’s definitely not. After her mom died and her uncle took her in, she learned quickly that the best way to get things done is to do them yourself. She’s been a hardass as long as I’ve known her.”
The news of her mother’s death hits me square in the gut, and suddenly so much about Monroe makes more sense. She’s been holding me at a distance from the very moment we met—all that talk about our tryst being a one-time thing and then calling me boss when she can tell it drives me up a fucking wall, especially considering I’ve been inside her. But what else would I expect from someone who’s lost everyone?
“Her uncle was a dick to her then?” I ask, more curious than ever about the enigma that is Monroe Daniels.
Benton shrugs. “Not really a dick. He was good to her. Took care of her, put food on the table. Taught her everything she knows about construction. But he wasn’t really the type to cuddle her at night when she was feeling sick. Didn’t kiss her skinned knees or read her bedtime stories. He hadn’t wanted kids, but after his sister died, he said there was no way any niece of his was going to live with strangers. So, he took her in. It wasn’t a bad life. It just wasn’t what we had.”
It was no secret in town that my family was well off. My father had done well for
himself, skyrocketing up the charts as a novelist as soon as his first book had been published. At this point, he’s written more bestsellers than I could even count, and he and my mom live a comfortable life in one of the largest houses in Winchester. And because of Dad’s success, it had allowed my mother to stay home and raise me, Benton, and Bryce. Dad would work in his office for a few hours every day, and then the five of us would all but turn into the damn Cleavers with our family dinners and bonding time.
It was a damn good way to grow up, and a sense of regret pangs deep in my stomach with the knowledge that Monroe has never experienced anything like that.
Which is all the more reason for her to stay here. At least until we can get her up on her feet.
Something tells me Monroe Daniels has been on her own for far too long.
And now that she’s here, I’ll be damned if I let her go back to thinking she’s entirely alone again.
I jerk my chin at Benton. “Go to The Park. She was staying in room 2C. Get all her shit and bring it here. Then, the two of us have to come up with some way to get her to stay. Because you know as well as I do, the idea is going to go over about as well as a hippo in the White House.”
Benton barks out a laugh before throwing his hand up to stifle it. “Sorry,” he says when he finally regains his composure. “But that was just about the worst analogy I’ve ever heard. You’re right, though. She’s not gonna like the idea. At least not at first. Don’t worry, though, bro. If there’s one person that can bring her around, it’s me.”
He gives me a cocky grin as he turns and strolls out the door.
I hope for her sake that he’s right.
Chapter Eleven
Monroe
When you’re in the middle of the desert even a drop of water is worth more than all the money in the world. The pain and dryness that surrounds my throat is enough to make me cry out, not that I can do that. My head swims as I quickly sit up grabbing for the beacon—glass of water—on the bedside table and downing it, only coming up for air once its contents are gone.
Never in my life has water tasted that good.
The box of cold medicine steals my attention and I silently curse myself for drinking all the water before I could take a dose. I guess I’ll have to—
What in the ever-loving fuck?
No dingy carpet. No weird stains on the ceiling. No scratchy, smelly bedspread.
I bounce slightly in bed as the shatter of the glass hitting the dark hardwood floors below me echoes throughout the room. Where am I right now and how did I get here? The walls are painted in a warm gray with an oversized leather armchair in the corner. Judging by the equally large flat screen on the wall, a man sleeps in this room.
A cold sweat comes over me, not from my fever but fear of my unknown surroundings. I close my eyes wracking my brain for the last thing that I remember. I sent Benton a text about missing work today, I went to sleep, and then…nothing.
I stand up from the bed, avoiding the broken glass, good thing I downed all the water. The floor is cold against my toes and I rise up on them as I maneuver around the mess. I make my way to the end of the bed when the door slams wide open. I try not to cry out in pain as my knees hit the floor and I fall to the side.
“Shit, Monroe, are you okay?”
Wait, I know that voice. I crawl around the side of the bed on my hands and knees like an animal. I peek my head around the end and ask, “Barrett? What are you doing here?”
“This is my house.”
His house?
Why am I at Barrett’s house? He stands in the doorway with his hands in his pockets. I wobble as I get to my feet and the bed next to me comes into focus. “Oh no, did we…” I trail off unable to actually say the words.
Barrett doesn’t hide the disgust on his face when he says, “Really? You’d think I’d sleep with you in your current condition?”
Is he serious right now? My current condition? I have the flu, I’m not dead.
“Oh please. You’d whip it out right now if I stripped down naked in front of you. You know you can’t resist this.” I wave my hands over my body which ends up exerting more energy than I realized. I immediately start coughing as I fall over on the bed which totally drops my sexy points down to nil. He might have a point there, but there’s no way I’m letting him know that.
Barrett pulls his hands out of his pockets and walks over toward me. “Dammit, will you get back in bed? You’re going to make yourself even worse.”
I don’t get another word in as he gets down on his knees and starts picking up the pieces of the broken glass.
I’m completely out of breath, but I can’t help to roll over and say, “While you’re down there…”
I wink at him and I expect him to scold me again, but I’m pleasantly surprised when he laughs while rolling his eyes. So, the stiff has a funny bone after all. Who knew?
“I’m not going down on you while you’re sick with a fever.”
That wasn’t really a no, more of a not right now. “But if I wasn’t?”
Why am I even pushing this? It was a one-time thing and we both agreed that it was never going to happen again. Hence the whole one-night stand thing. Which reminds me, I haven’t really touched my bucket list since the night of the mind-blowing dirty bar bathroom sex that Barrett and I engaged in. What was the next thing on my list?
Barrett gets up from the floor and doesn’t say a word to me as he leaves the room. Well, that was rude. He didn’t even answer my question. I don’t have long enough to get mad at him before he’s coming back in with a broom, dustpan, and trashcan.
Oh!
Yeah, that would make sense. I guess I did leave a bit of a mess on the floor with dropping that glass. The trajectory of the shards was pretty intense. I hope I didn’t damage his gorgeous wood floors. That would be a damn travesty. You don’t find them like this anymore. I wonder if they’re original to the house?
“Hello, did you hear me?”
I shake my head and come out of my own thoughts and say, “Hmm? What did you say?”
“Never mind, it wasn’t important. Were you able to take some medicine before you broke the glass?”
I can’t help it as my cheeks redden. I’m not normally one to get embarrassed, hello, I manage construction workers for a living, but for some reason, I’m not myself when I’m around Barrett. My girly side comes out. I just hope I don’t start that giggling bullshit, then I’d really have to shoot myself.
“No, I didn’t take the medicine yet. I woke up and drained the entire glass before I realized I wasn’t still in the motel room. Which reminds me, why am I here?”
“You didn’t really think I was going to leave you there, did you? I might be an asshole, but that doesn’t mean I’m not a gentleman.”
“How was that your decision to make? You’re not my boyfriend. Hell, you’re not even my friend.”
His nostrils flare as he turns around with my mess in his hands. Is this how today is going to go? He’s going to keep walking out of the room without a word? If so, I can just go back to the hotel room…when the room stops spinning and I can figure out where I’m even at.
A plastic water bottle?
I don’t know whether or not to be offended or grateful that he was thinking of me. I’m not normally clumsy, but I’m not usually deathly ill either. Fucking Smith and his kids. Barrett places the water bottle on the nightstand and takes a step toward me. He frames my face with his hands, and I lean into the embrace relishing the feel of his skin against my own.
“Didn’t you just say you weren’t going to hit this?” I ask as I wave my hand down my body. “Or did something else change in the last five minutes? I’m not saying no, bee-tee-dubs.”
“I’m not hitting on you, Monroe. I’m trying to check your temperature. And what the heck is bee-tee-dubs?”
Well, this is embarrassing. If I remember this later, I’ll pretend like it was the fever talking and not me. I ignore the sex talk and instead foc
us on answering his question. “By the way. Duh…So what’s the diagnosis, Dr. Brooks?”
The bottle of water and his outstretched hand of pills appear in front of my face. “You’re still burning up. I want you to take these and go back to sleep. If you’re still feverish when you wake up, I’m taking you to the hospital.”
I don’t even have to do the mental math to know I don’t have the money to cover a hospital visit. He’s got to be out of his mind if he thinks I’m going to be okay with something like that. I open my mouth to tell him as much when he cuts me off.
“Don’t even try to argue with me on that. The money doesn’t matter.”
The money doesn’t matter? Does that mean he’s paying for it? Speaking of money, isn’t the business kind of about ready to implode. I haven’t exactly been told as much, but Benton did make it seem like I was doing more of a favor by working for him than he was doing for me. “Why are you here?”
He rolls his eyes like a teenage girl before saying, “I already told you, this is my house.”
“Yeah, I get that. But shouldn’t you be at work?”
“I’m not completely cold-hearted. Some things are more important than money.”
Is he talking about me? No, he couldn’t be. That must be the cold medicine kicking in and confusing my brain. Sleep. That’s what I need. I’m obviously not thinking clearly. I throw my body back onto the pillow and Barrett, the gentleman that he is, pulls the covers back over me. I’m not sure if he’s suddenly going to give me a goodnight kiss while he’s at it, but I wouldn’t turn it away if he did.
Instead, he just pulls the blankets up over me and pauses briefly before telling me goodnight and swiftly leaving the room. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want things to go further with Barrett. Our one night has been on my mind a lot lately, but he’s obviously not interested in going down that road again.
Closing my eyes, I drift away with a smile on my face and my mind filled with what-ifs about the unattainable man in the other room.
