“He’s a racer, a good one, and one who Tate hates with a passion.”
“Who does Tate get along with?” Frankie asks, her eyes cautiously on Ty.
I laugh, knowing Tate is a surly asshole better than anyone. “It’s good money, and I would still work for Tate. It makes sense.”
“So you’re going to do it then?” Ty asks, taking a drink of his beer.
“I think I am. I’m not sure.”
“Because of Tate?” I don’t miss the frustration and distain in Ty’s deep voice.
I straighten my shoulders, grabbing a handful of potato chips and placing them on my paper plate. “We’re friends. I don’t want to do something that will upset him. The two men definitely don’t get along.”
“It’s business though, Morgan.” Frankie interjects with her infinite wisdom. “If he’s truly your friend, he’ll get that.”
“There’s bad blood.”
“Go with your gut, kid. Although I can’t really encourage you to take on another asshole racer.”
I smile at my brother. He never liked my career of choice, but it’s nice of him to be supportive. “Thanks.”
I can’t read Ty’s expression, but I have a feeling his reaction has more to do with Tate than Chase.
I decide it’s better to change the subject entirely as I look at him and his face that is so fucking gorgeous I could cry. Seriously, most people don’t think it’s possible that he’s a tattoo artist.
Honestly, he looks more like a high fashion model than the typical tattoo artist. He only has two tattoos total, both hidden by most of his shirts, one on his left pec and one on his right bicep.
His chestnut hair is prettier than most women’s, soft and full as it sits perfectly trimmed and styled on his head. His eyes are a hazel color with green flecks. They are intense and beautiful. His lips are full and pouty, and he has high cheekbones and long eyelashes that again, make most women slightly jealous of both. We’d all kill for them.
He is a masterpiece.
“What about you, Ty? You moving to Texas?”
His lips quirk up in a smile as he looks briefly at Jay and then me, shaking his head. “Nah. I called Adrienne yesterday and passed.”
My heart is full of happiness when I hear that. I didn’t realize just how afraid I was of him actually leaving. “Good.”
He nods. “Our barbecue’s better anyway.”
We all laugh at that, and it really does feel like old times.
Will it stay this way?
“I can’t believe she still works for that fucking douchebag.” I toss a beer bottle in the trash and take a seat next to Jay.
Frankie just left, and Morgan left an hour ago. She has to catch a flight in the morning so she called it an early night.
Never in a million years did I think Jay and I would be on the deck I built only a few months ago trying to curb my despair, just shooting the shit like old times.
“She’s good at her job.”
“She’s too fucking good for him.”
That I can’t and won’t argue. I hate Tate Pearson but for my own reasons. My fists clench at my sides as I look up at the sliver of moon in the sky. Not only did he fuck Evie while we were technically dating, okay not officially, but going out on dates, he also fucked Morgan.
Motherfucker.
I hate thinking about him.
“And now she’s going to work for another one.”
“Yeah, that’s fucking crazy, but it’s good she’s in high demand.”
He takes a sip of his beer, looking uncertain. “Yeah, as long as she’s happy, I guess I am.”
“Speaking of happy, . . .” I turn my head slightly to look over at him, “you really okay with Frankie going on a date?”
She left to go meet up with a guy she’s been seeing, and I know it bugs him. “Frankie goes on a lot of dates.”
“This is the fourth one with this guy.”
His shoulders shrug as he takes another drink, swallowing slowly. “I can’t make her happy, Ty.” His eyes are full of sadness, and he looks lost. “She deserves to be happy.”
“She’d be happy with you.”
He looks perturbed now. “Since when do you get in my business?”
True, our friendship conversations have mostly consisted of “I got laid last night” and “Who’s playing this weekend?” But still, I’ve watched Frankie and him over the years. He’s in love with that pain in the ass, and the feeling is mutual, and yet, still they fight it.
“At the risk of you being pissy and giving me the silent treatment again . . .” His middle finger rises as his eyes dart to the sky, and I continue, “You could make her happy if you tried.”
“Like you made Evie happy?”
“That’s fucking cold-blooded, man.” Jesus, he never holds back. Frankie and he are the perfect match.
His shoulders shrug curtly. “I’m just being real, Ty. When you said you were going to try the real relationship thing, I wanted the best for you, but I couldn’t see it. We’re cut from the same cloth.”
“And what cloth is that?”
“‘Fuck anything we can’ material.”
I cringe but can’t really argue. “I tried.”
He nods, not arguing with me either. “And you were successful. But come on, let’s be honest, there was a part of you that wanted out.”
My jaw clenches tight as I sit there with the man who knows me better than anyone on the planet. I tried with Evie. I never wanted a relationship, but I felt an intense attraction to her. There was no way I was just going to fuck Chris’s little sister, so I tried to date her. And I fell hard for her.
Still, Jay’s right. A part of me was uncertain the entire time, a part that wasn’t sure I could ever truly commit to someone, no matter how hard I tried.
“Yeah. You’re not entirely wrong.”
“Guys like us just don’t settle down. We aren’t made that way.”
“But you love Frankie.”
It’s not a question. It’s not something I have to question, it’s a fact, and everyone knows it. “I do. I always will.”
“So why not try?”
“Because I’ll never take a step toward being my old man.” His cold determined eyes meet mine. “Never.”
Jay and Morgan’s dad was a piece of shit. I say this because they haven’t seen him in damn near twenty years, and no one knows if he’s alive or dead. No one cares. “You could never be him.”
“I have the same restless spirit. One that, if I try to tether it, I know will buck to break free. I can’t do that to her.”
“So bachelors forever?”
He chuckles, looking up at the sky above. “There are worse things.”
“I guess that’s true.”
“You think you’ll ever try the relationship thing again?”
“Fuck no.” And I mean that with everything inside me. I’ve never been in worse agony.
I had it right all of the years before. I had my family at the tattoo shop and my job, with the occasional random lay.
That’s all I need.
Now that I seemingly have that back, there’s no way in hell I’m ever messing that up again.
“Damn, don’t look so happy, sunshine.”
Tate offers me a mug of coffee I gladly take as I walk into his ridiculously large home. Last night was fun, but I should have left earlier than I did.
I had work to do, mostly scheduling, and then I had to pack.
Still, I had more fun last night than I’d had in a long time. “I am happy.”
He looks me over, studying my face. “Yeah? You and Ty give into your passions and fuck away the pain?”
Good. Lord. “Really? What the hell have you been watching? Passions?”
He chuckles as he finishes the coffee in his cup. “Eve had some love movie on last night, the chick was hot, the writing was bad.” I shake my head.
“You’re just so cute, all coupled up.” I playfully pinch his cheek, and he swats me
away.
“So, you didn’t get laid? That’s why you’re all pissy?”
I have to admit, I am incredibly sexually frustrated. It’s been way too long. Still, I’m not talking about this with Tate now that he’s no longer an option to relieve that pent-up frustration. “Next subject.”
He laughs again and grabs his sunglasses off the kitchen counter, placing them on top of his head. “Fine. What’s on the agenda?”
I’m sure my face shows fear, and Tate picks up on it instantly.
“Morgan, . . .” he leans against the counter, folding his arms, “what’s up?”
“I actually have to talk to you about something before we head to the airport.”
“What?”
Just do it, Morgan. “Chase Castle came to my house the other day.”
“And you want me to kill him?” He scratches his chin. “I could do that.”
“Tate . . .”
His eyes narrow. “What, Morgan? Why was he at your place?”
“He offered me a job.”
Please don’t be mad. Tate doesn’t move. He stares at me, uncertainty and what I’m sure is a little anger mixed in those eyes. “He wants you to quit and work for him?”
I shake my head. “No. And I would never ever consider that.”
“So, he wants you to work for both of us? At the same time?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“What the fuck, Morgan?”
He pushes off the counter, clearly irritated. “So that’s worse than me quitting?”
“No, but it’s no fucking better.” He starts toward the front door and spins around to look at me again. “You’re considering it?”
“Yeah. It’s a big opportunity.”
He scoffs. “Opportunity to work for a complete, reckless jackass.”
“I mean, what’s one more?”
My attempt at humor nearly cuts the tension for a minute, but inevitably misses the mark and he doesn’t laugh. “He’s a prick.”
“It’s not like it forces you to be around him anymore than you already are. It’s just me scheduling for him too. He still lives in Alabama. We would just be meeting him there like we do now.”
“And if you two start fucking?”
I fight the blush. I’m not a little girl. Don’t take that shit. “You’re such a fucking asshole.”
He laughs at that, thank God. “I know, but it’s not a crazy reach.”
“Calling me a slut?”
He tilts his head to the side, his right eyebrow raising. “You know I’m not.”
Okay, so I did sleep with Tate while I was working for him, and Chase is undeniably hot. “It’s just business. No sex.”
“Something’s gonna have to give, Morgan. Being friends with Ty again without sex. Working with me.” He wags his eyebrows. “I mean, we all know how badly you miss my dick.”
I fake gag. “Thank God Evie took you off the market so I won’t be subjected to that anymore.”
He rolls his eyes playfully. “Oh please, you know you want it.”
He was a really good lay, but there were never any genuine feelings there. It was purely sex and only in moments of complete stupidity and weakness. “Stop.”
He’s happy again, less pissed-off, and it’s good. “You really think you can handle both of us?”
“I know I can. You’re both always at the same events anyway.”
“I won’t promise to behave.”
Keeping them from throwing fists in public will be my greatest challenge, no doubt. “Keep it to words only, and I can handle it.”
He loosens up and wraps an arm around my shoulder, pulling me into a side hug. “Fuck, I’m really annoyed by how much I like you.”
I can’t help but laugh. “The feeling is mutual, buddy.”
He gives me a tight squeeze, and I take a big gulp of my coffee. “Let’s get going. I’m assuming assface will be there.”
“Is that the nickname you’re going with?”
“Too immature?”
I laugh, finishing the coffee quickly and rinsing the cup in the sink before walking back to where Tate stands in the foyer. “You’ll come up with something.”
We leave and start for the airport, a huge weight lifted from me. Tate has definitely changed and grown up a lot since we first started working together.
I’m glad he took it well, but now I have to prove I can actually handle this.
A challenge, no doubt.
When Tate is settled in his hotel room, I give Chase a call and schedule a meet-up. Thankfully, he’s staying at the same hotel. I take the stairs down to the next floor and knock on his door.
And, of fucking course, because I swear all racers are teenagers stuck in men’s bodies, Chase Castle opens the door, wearing nothing but a flimsy hotel towel wrapped around his trim waist.
Why me?
“Seriously? You knew I was on my way over.”
He just grins, that ridiculously handsome smile spreading across his face and illuminating all its best features. He doesn’t apologize, instead the fucker turns, walking away from the door as he rips the towel from his waist and uses it to dry his hair.
Holy. Fuck.
His ass is all kinds of fine. There’s no denying that. Perfectly sculpted and biteable. His back has strong, defined muscles with dark tan skin. He’s the definition of eye candy. I notice a few tattoos on his arms and his side before he tosses the towel to the floor, tugging on a pair of jeans.
He tosses his head back, throwing his damp blond bangs to the side and out of his eyes, his full lips curling into a smirk. “You coming in?”
I stand tall because I know what he’s doing. Asserting dominance. But he picked the wrong girl. I walk inside, closing the door behind me and walking to stand before him. “If you want me to work for you, the games stop now. We can only have a professional relationship.”
He laughs, taking a seat on the edge of the king-sized bed. “That’s not really fun.”
“You said you fired Gary because he wasn’t giving you what you needed.”
“That’s true.”
“So, was what you needed pussy?”
He doesn’t look shocked by my brash question, but maybe a little pleasantly surprised. “I don’t have any trouble getting pussy.”
I don’t have any doubt. “Alright, then no more of this flirty crap. Don’t see me as a woman. If I’m going to work for you, that’s all it is.”
His lips pull up into a devilish smirk. “I never wanted to fuck Gary, but you and me? I think we could have both.”
“No.”
He doesn’t look crushed. I want to extinguish any hope he has of seducing me. “I’m looking forward to this relationship, Morgan. I knew you’d say yes.”
“I’m saying yes to being your assistant, not your whore.”
He stands from the bed, his right hand moving to the hair draped over my shoulder, letting it slide between his fingers as his eyes lock on mine. “I’ll gladly be yours.”
Why does he smell so good? I brush his hand away and start for the door. “Forget it. You’re not going to take this seriously.”
He stops me before I reach the door, gently grabbing my arm and spinning me to look at him. “Don’t go. I was just fucking around.”
I place one hand on my hip. “You see me as a piece of ass.”
“No. I don’t.” His fingers push through his wet locks. “If I did, I would have asked you out, not offered you a job. Why work that hard just to get laid?”
“That’s nice.”
“I’m serious.”
I believe he is. “You’re going to start taking me seriously then?”
“I suppose. Although,” his eyes slide down over my cropped racing shirt, over my bare mid-section and over the skintight black leggings I’m wearing before his eyes meet mine again. “You make it really fucking hard.”
“I don’t want to hear any more about it.” Doesn’t take a genius to figure out the it he’s referring to is his dick
.
“Deal. Unless you beg me.”
My eyes meet his with a deadly warning. “I never beg.”
“Yeah, you seem more like a girl who could bring a guy to his knees.”
I swallow, stupidly letting his close proximity get to me. My eyes momentarily drift down his carved washboard stomach. I clear my throat and try my best to gain my composure as I look back up at his face. “You have to get along with Tate.”
“That’s a deal breaker.”
“Chase . . .”
He holds his hands up in surrender, walking to the bed and grabbing a black shirt. “Fine.”
“I mean it.”
He pulls the shirt on over his naked torso, and honestly, that’s almost a sin. “Got it.”
“Tate and I have history. If a choice has to be made, I’m going to choose him. No contest.”
He walks to the mirror in the bathroom and grabs a comb, dragging it through his hair. “I said I got it.”
I have a sinking feeling this is a terrible idea. Chase is a cocky asshole, no doubt. He’s not loyal, and he’ll continue to fuck with Tate.
Hell, he’ll continue to fuck with me.
Still, I can’t resist the pull I feel to take this job.
I guess, whatever will be, will be.
“So, what made you go into tattooing?”
Jesus, this isn’t a first date. I stare at the sexy blond sitting next to me at the bar. She’s sipping some fruity cocktail and batting her eyelashes at me. “Boredom.”
She giggles incessantly, touching my bicep. “That’s funny.”
It’s not. I down what’s left of the whiskey I’ve been drinking since the shop closed. I decided to come to the bar with the chick who wanted a butterfly on her hip. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve inked the exact same tattoo over the years. Always the same type of woman.
Insecure. Craving attention. Dull.
“You want to go somewhere?”
Her pouty lips curl into a seductive smile as she uses her finger to circle the rim of her glass. “Oh yeah.”
I need to get out of this funk. I have my friends back, and yet, there’s still a dark cloud hanging over my head in the form of a blond vixen I gave my heart to like a fucking idiot.
I shake off thoughts of my relationship with Evie and take the stranger’s hand.
Retreat Page 5
