BULL (The Buck Boys Heroes Book 1)

by Deborah Bladon

  “Trina,” he says my name quietly. “I didn’t expect you to be here. I thought you were busy.”

  “I rearranged my schedule, Graham.” I turn to look at Mr. Abdon when I hear the tremor in my voice. “I couldn’t miss the opportunity to welcome Mr. Abdon home.”

  “Lloyd,” Mr. Abdon insists as he reaches for my hand. “It’s time you started calling me Lloyd.”

  He winks the same way he always does whenever he sneaks the words time or watch into a sentence.

  Graham moves to grab hold of Lloyd’s forearm. I can tell that his touch is soft as he leads the older man forward by a step. “Let’s get you to the hotel.”

  “Hotel?” Lloyd’s gaze volleys between Graham and me. “I happen to know that penthouse you live in has a handful of bedrooms. I assumed I’d be staying with the newlyweds, or is that overstepping?”

  Graham’s eyes lock on mine.

  I stare at him in disbelief. I’m all for pretending to be his wife in name only, but the solace in that is at the end of the day, I can go home, kick off my shoes, take off my bra, and be Trina Shaw again.

  Without blinking, my husband answers, “I wouldn’t have it any other way, Lloyd. Trina and I would love to have you as our houseguest.”

  Chapter Eight

  Graham

  I’ve been married for less than a day, and I’m reasonably sure that my wife is plotting my murder.

  She hasn’t so much as glanced in my direction since I invited Lloyd to stay with me or us.

  We are in the lobby of my building now as Trina takes it all in.

  I wish to hell she didn’t look so surprised by the elegant décor and grand entrance to the building.

  Thankfully, Lloyd hasn’t noticed that my bride is stunned into silence since this is her first time seeing what is supposed to be her home sweet home.

  “I’ll need to rest once we’re upstairs, “ Lloyd announces, and I almost reach over to plant a kiss in the middle of his forehead to thank him.

  I’m going to use that time wisely to convince my assistant to move in with me.

  His proclamation stops Trina mid-step. She glances at me. “In that case, I think I’ll head back to the office. There are some things I need to take care of.”

  If one of those things is to file for a divorce, I’m in a hell of a lot of trouble.

  I paste a forced grin on my face as we walk on either side of Lloyd on our way toward the bank of elevators. “Let’s get Lloyd settled in the guest room in the east wing before you do that.”

  “East wing?” she mouths to herself.

  I catch the look of disbelief on her face.

  The penthouse was a sound investment during a time I was looking for a place to settle down. The fact that it has six bedrooms, a sauna, a rooftop terrace, and a killer view are all bonuses.

  My plan has always been to sell in several years to pocket the profit, as the area is experiencing a steady uptick in property values.

  “That’s my favorite room,” Lloyd mutters as I guide him onto the elevator. “It’s near the library.”

  Trina tosses me a look that makes me wonder if she thinks I’m illiterate.

  The library is a room that I’ve yet to step foot in. The previous owner left behind the books that line the shelves, or rather her attorney did. Her death made the news because of her philanthropy and the fact that she had no family to speak of.

  I share that in common with the dearly departed. Family is only a word to me since I don’t have one.

  I tap my keycard against the elevator panel to light up the button marked P1.

  Penthouse 1.

  It’s misleading, as there is only one Penthouse on the property. The remaining apartments are all impressive in their own right, but they don’t require a keycard to access the button that leads to their floors.

  “I know Graham can’t boil water but do you cook, Trina?”

  Lloyd’s question draws my assistant’s gaze to me before it settles on my boss. “I’m a great cook.”

  That doesn’t surprise me.

  I’ve learned that Trina Shaw is skilled in many things, including managing me.

  Her ability to handle everything I toss in her direction is impressive.

  “Would you consider…”

  “Cooking for you?” Trina interrupts Lloyd before he can finish his thought. “I would love to do that, sir.”

  That will require food, which is something I don’t have in abundance in my home, or have at all.

  “Do you have any special requests?” Her beautiful blue eyes light up as she asks the question.

  Lloyd’s a goner. I see it in his expression as he gazes at my wife. “Why don’t you surprise me?”

  Trina glances at me. “I’ll pick up what I need to cook something fabulous on my way back here from the office.”

  Knowing that she’s talking about my penthouse, I gaze at the floor. Not only will we need food, but we’ll also need whatever is required to cook a meal. Pots? Pans? A spatula?

  The elevator dings its arrival on my floor. When the doors slide open, Lloyd steps out and into the foyer of my penthouse. I follow.

  Trina remains in place.

  I urge her forward with a curl of my finger.

  Lloyd’s back is to her, so she shakes her head adamantly as panic flashes over her expression.

  Once Lloyd is past me, I take a step closer to my wife, extend a hand, and manage a smile. “Let’s get our guest settled in. Then we can have a moment alone.”

  “Newlyweds,” Lloyd quips as he turns to face us. “You two remind me of my sweet darling and me right after we married.”

  I feel the tremor of Trina’s hand at the mention of Lloyd’s late wife.

  I squeeze it to reassure her as I lead her off the elevator and into my home.

  Chapter Nine

  Trina

  This situation has gone from bad to holy-heck-what-have-I-gotten-myself-into in record time.

  Not only do I need to keep up the façade of being Mr. Locke’s wife, but I have to play the part on a full-time basis.

  I don’t know if I have the acting chops to pull off this charade.

  I follow Graham and Lloyd down a series of twisting hallways until we reach double doors. Graham opens them, and I’m greeted with the sight of a spacious bedroom decorated in earthy tones.

  The view through the windows is quintessential New York City. Many of the most recognizable buildings in Manhattan dot the skyline.

  If this is the guestroom, I can’t begin to imagine what Mr. Locke’s bedroom looks like.

  Panic drops over me.

  Is his bedroom now my bedroom?

  I didn’t sign up to share that intimate of a space with my boss.

  Surely, given how ridiculously spacious this property is, there’s a bedroom tucked away somewhere that I can use.

  Lloyd glances over his shoulder. “You must admit that this is one of your very favorite rooms in the penthouse.”

  I’ve only seen the main living area and the never-ending hallways that brought us here, so I nod. “It’s something else.”

  It’s unnecessary.

  No one needs this much glitz and glamour when they are sleeping.

  There’s a fireplace on the wall that separates the bedroom from the bathroom. The floors are redwood, and the artwork that decorates the space is expensive. I know. I’ve seen a Brighton Beck original hanging in Falon’s apartment, and if I’m not mistaken, I’m staring at another one of his watercolor paintings hung over the bed.

  Graham places Mr. Abdon’s suitcase on a luggage rack in the corner near a brown leather chair.

  He unzips it but doesn’t take the next step of opening it.

  “We’ll leave you to rest, Lloyd.” Graham points at a phone on the bedside table. “Dial zero if you need anything. It will ring straight through to my cell.”

  That’s a fancy set-up. I could use that in my apartment if I didn’t live alone and the kitchen wasn’t ten feet from my b
edroom.

  Lloyd turns to face me. “I’m looking forward to spending time with both of you, Trina. I’m grateful that you’ve allowed me the honor of staying in your home.”

  I stay silent because this isn’t my home.

  “Our home is your home,” Graham interjects. “Rest well, Lloyd. We’ll wake you in a few hours.”

  “Follow me,” my husband says as soon as he closes the doors to the guestroom.

  I fall in step behind him as we wander down the series of hallways until we are back in the main living area.

  This room is just as over-the-top as the guest bedroom. Chocolate brown leather furniture sits atop an exquisite rug. The flooring below is a shade lighter than in the guest bedroom, and the fireplace is beautiful white stone with a large wooden mantle.

  “This way,” Graham says as he jerks a thumb toward another hallway. “We’re going to the kitchen.”

  I can’t wait to see that.

  When we round the corner, and my gaze settles on the white cabinetry, large island, and flawless granite countertops, I almost salivate.

  This is gorgeous with a capital G.

  “Trina,” Graham huffs out my name. “This is fucked up.”

  I tear my gaze away from the custom range hood to look at him. “It’s very fucked up.”

  He almost smiles. “You need to stay here for the duration of Lloyd’s trip.”

  “Why can’t I sneak out at night and come back in the morning?” I ask, thinking that it’s a solid plan.

  My boss studies me. “You’ll be comfortable here.”

  That’s a non-answer to my very serious question, so I rephrase. “I’ll go home after Lloyd goes to bed, and it won’t take me long to get back here in the mornings. I’ll have breakfast ready and waiting by the time he wakes up every day.”

  “There are too many variables for that to be a viable option.”

  That’s a wordy way of shooting my idea down, so I press forward. “What variables?”

  Graham leans his hip against the kitchen island. “You could oversleep. He could wake up early. What happens if he becomes ill during the night and I have to call 9-1-1? You don’t think he’d wonder why you’re not around?”

  My eyes widen. “Is that a possibility? Is there a chance that he may need to be hospitalized during this trip?”

  “Anything is possible.”

  I shake my head. “I’m not sleeping in the same room as you.”

  “God, no.” He chuckles. “You’ll take my bedroom. I’ll stay in the adjoining room with the door between closed unless there is an emergency.”

  “There’s a bedroom that hooks up with your bedroom?” I ask in disbelief.

  His eyes search my face. “It’s the smallest bedroom. I sense it was designed to be a nursery.”

  “Oh,” I say, caught off guard. “I suppose that could work.”

  “It will work,” he counters matter-of-factly. “I’ll send someone to gather your belongings if that’s easier for you.”

  I grew up with twelve siblings. I don’t need anyone touching my stuff. That’s one of the reasons I live alone now.

  “I’ll go home and pack a suitcase.”

  “All right.” His arms cross his chest. “Let’s discuss dinner.”

  I glance around the kitchen again. “I have a lot to work with here. This is impressive, Mr. Locke.”

  “Graham,” he stresses. “It’s a showpiece, Trina. Other than a coffee machine and a few mismatched glasses, dishes, and utensils, it’s barren.”

  To prove the point, he opens an upper cabinet door to show me that it’s empty. He yanks on a drawer pull too, and I spot nothing inside.

  “I’ll need a list of everything you require to cook a meal for Lloyd.”

  As overwhelming as that sounds, I nod. “My sister, Ida, works at a kitchen supply store. I can call her and ask her to send over everything I need.”

  He shoots me a look. “Does your sister know that we’re married?”

  I fist my hands together. “No, and I want to keep it that way. I’ll tell her that you just moved in and are looking for all the essentials.”

  “That works for me.”

  “What about food?” I ask with a wince. “What do you have to work with?”

  “Coffee and sugar.”

  “And?”

  “Bottled water and wine,” he adds. “I don’t cook, Trina. I eat out. I always eat out.”

  Eat out.

  The sound of those two words falling from his lips sends a charge through me even though he’s clearly talking about take-out and not taking me to his bed.

  It’s just my luck that I’m married to the sexiest man I’ve ever met, and we’ll never touch each other.

  “If you make a list of everything you need, I’ll have it all delivered.”

  I sigh. “I’ll get started on that. I can email it to you when I’m done.”

  “And you’ll head to your home now to pack?” he asks quietly. “If you need help, I can arrange for someone to stop by.”

  I don’t bother asking who since I can handle it on my own. “I’ll be fine.”

  “I’m going to work from home for the remainder of the day.” He loosens his tie. “I’ll be in my study. Please stop in when you get back.”

  “All right,” I say, even though I have no clue which hallway maze would take me to the study.

  “I’ll see you out.” His hand disappears into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. He yanks out the keycard he used earlier. “Use this when you get back.”

  I take it from him. “Thank you, sir.”

  “Graham,” he reminds me with a smirk on his lips. “Your husband, remember?”

  How the hell could I forget?

  Chapter Ten

  Trina

  I sit on the edge of my bed and finish off the list of groceries for Graham. I read the email again to make sure I haven’t missed anything and then finally press send.

  I compiled the list while I was talking to my sister, Ida, on speakerphone. She had a few questions about why my boss needs an entire kitchen stocked with pots, pans, and every bell and whistle imaginable.

  I went with the easy answer and told her that he recently moved into a new home and is looking for a fresh start.

  Turning, I survey my bedroom and the small closet that holds all of my clothes.

  My suitcase is tucked in the corner of it. I’ve only ever used it once, and that was during the trip to Cincinnati.

  I start toward the closet, but a knock on my apartment door stops me in place.

  Panicking, I glance down at the diamond ring on my left hand.

  If a member of my family is standing on the other side of the door, I’ll have a lot of explaining to do. I’m hoping that I can get through the next ninety days without any of them finding out that I married Graham.

  I won’t hold back the fact forever, but I will wait to tell them until I’ve filed for divorce.

  If I don’t, I’ll have to deal with my parents’ disappointment and a never-ending stream of questions from my siblings.

  I slide the ring from my finger and place it carefully on my nightstand next to the base of a lamp.

  Then I smooth my hands over the front of my skirt, take a deep breath and head straight for the door.

  I swing it open without bothering to peer through the peephole.

  I smile when I see who is standing there.

  “Aurora.” I glance down the hallway to her closed apartment door. “To what do I owe this mid-day visit?”

  She tries to peer around me. “Is everything all right, Trina?”

  No. I’m married to my boss, and I have to go camp out at his place to play make-believe for who knows how long.

  I hold that in because the situation is as absurd as it sounds.

  “Just taking a break.” I lean against the doorjamb. “How are you? How’s Eldon?”

  “Good and good.”

  I wait for more, but she’s still focused on what’s b
ehind me. If memory serves me correctly, it’s nothing special. The only thing in her line of sight worth looking at is the one houseplant that I’ve managed to keep alive for the past four months.

  I suddenly realize that the plant will likely outlast my first marriage.

  “Do you want to come in?” I step aside to give her full access to the doorway.

  She shakes her head. “I’m on my way to have a late lunch with Eldon. I heard your door slam shut, so I wanted to be sure everything was okay.”

  “All is great in my world,” I lie. “Will you say hi to Eldon for me?”

  “You know I will.” She grins. “We should all meet up for coffee one day soon.”

  “I’d love that,” I say honestly.

  I need that.

  I miss hanging out with them.

  “I’ll set it up and text you the details.” She pats the back pocket of her jeans where her phone always is. “I’m heading out. Are you going back to the office now?”

  I wish.

  “I have a couple of things to do before I take off.” I glance down at my watch. “We’ll talk soon?”

  “You know it.” She yanks me into an unexpected embrace. “I’m glad I knocked on your door. I needed to see a friendly face.”

  I step back to study her. “You’re sure everything is okay, Aurora?”

  “It is.” She raises her hand in the air. “I swear.”

  I can tell she could use a friend, but my time is limited. I don’t know when Lloyd will wake up, but I want to be there for that and for the delivery that Ida is sending to Graham’s home.

  “I should be the one asking you that.” She smiles. “You look stressed. Is your boss being an asshole again?”

  “Something like that,” I mutter.

  “Look on the bright side.”

  “What’s the bright side?” I wrinkle my nose.

  “At least you’re not married to the guy.”

  How I wish that were still true. In the past twenty-four hours, I’ve not only married the guy, but I’ve also become so deeply entangled in his life that I’m going to be living under the same roof as him.