by K. Bromberg
Our laughter turns into moans.
Our fantasies meld into reality.
Blakely
As I walk back from the camp showers, my hair is wet, parts of me are unabashedly sore, and I’m so not wanting to leave my laughter with Slade for my misery with Heather.
But it isn’t as if I have a choice.
I clomp up the steps with my shower stuff clutched in my hand and smile when I see the napkin taped to the door.
I study the list and laugh at his half crossed off items. When I go to open the door, though, it’s locked.
“Hey,” I say and knock on it. “Open up.”
“Not until you give me the secret code,” he says from behind the slab.
I hang my head and bite back my grin. “Funny. C’mon, I need to get ready so I’m not late today.”
“You have plenty of time.”
“Open the door, Slade.”
“What’s the secret password then?”
“Thirty-six inches,” I say, knowing that was his rough (and wrong) estimate of the length of my legs last night as he ran his tongue up my inseam. Just the thought of what that tongue did to me has me shifting on my feet.
“While I do think we need to try to measure them again just to be sure, that is not the password.”
“Then why is it crossed off the list?”
“Because sometimes we need to feel accomplished, and after last night,” he says, “I feel accomplished.”
“Slade.” My voice is a warning.
“The code is: Slade is a stud,” he says.
And while I may agree, I let the smile play at the corner of my mouth before giving him what he wants. “Slade is a stud,” I moan the words, playing them up for maximum effect, but nothing happens. The door doesn’t unlock. Nothing. “Slade, I gave you the password, now open the door.”
I can hear his chuckle from the other side. “That’s not the password, I just wanted to hear you say that.”
“Bastard,” I mutter playfully.
“I can’t hear you, what was that?”
“Slade.” I sigh, but it contradicts the smile I can’t stop smiling.
“Fuck you, Heather,” he says.
“What?”
“That’s the password. Fuck you, Heather.”
“I can’t say that.”
“Sure you can. I’m sure you’ve said it a million times in your head. Now you just have to say it out loud.
“Someone might hear me.”
“I won’t open the door until you say it.”
My shoulders sag, and I shake my head while laughing because I know from experience he won’t give up until I say it. “Fuck you, Heather,” I mumble.
“What was that?”
“I said it. Now will you open the door?”
“I couldn’t hear it. You need to say it a little louder.”
“You’re maddening.”
“And you love it.”
And I do. I can’t deny it. Who else would have me shouting passwords through a door?
“Fuck you, Heather,” I say a little bit louder.
As soon as I say it, he yanks the door open, and Slade is standing there in his board shorts and a Henley with the long sleeves pulled up to the elbows. His smile is wide, and his eyes sparkle with mischief as he runs a hand through his hair.
God is he gorgeous.
“Are you happy?” I ask.
“I’m always happy. I think the question you wanted to ask was, am I satisfied.” I glare at him. “And as you know, satisfaction is a hard thing to measure.”
“Funny.”
“Do you know what your goal is today in the plan to take Blakely back?”
“I think I’m afraid to ask.”
“It’s your turn to stand up to her today. If she pops off to you in the meeting this morning, or any other time, stand up for yourself. You’re gaining traction with your colleagues so you’ll have them silently rooting you on.”
I don’t give an answer because what he’s asking of me isn’t the easiest thing to do, and if I tell him I will and then fail, I’ll hate disappointing him.
“C’mon. Find that girl of mine who was howling at the moon last night and let her loose.”
“I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist calling,” I say in greeting as I stop just short of the amphitheater to talk to her before heading into my meeting.
“You know I’m dying to know what’s going on,” Kelsie says, her voice almost a squeal. “Have you gotten horizontal yet?”
“To sleep? Yes. I do believe sleeping works much better when you’re horizontal.”
“Oh, you’re sassy. I haven’t heard that in quite some time, which leads me to believe that you have, in fact, played with Slide-It-In-Slade.”
My grin is automatic and so is the need to tell her I have. It isn’t because I want to brag but because I’m so damn happy. “Perhaps.”
“That’s a definite yes. Why are you not screaming it from the rooftops? Or why are you wherever you are talking to me and not in bed with him?”
I chuckle. “I’m heading into a meeting, so he’s back in the cabin getting ready to round up the men and do who knows what with them. Whatever it is, I’m sure it will be a lot more fun than what I’m about to endure.”
“That bad, huh?”
I twist my lips for a beat as I think of how to answer. “Actually, it isn’t bad at all if we exclude the times I have to spend with her,” I say, glancing around to make sure no one is in earshot. “I haven’t laughed this much in a long time.”
“Don’t give me a pause like that,” she says, her voice turning serious. “I know you well enough to know a but always comes after your pregnant pauses, and it isn’t the kind of butt that comes on some sexy young doctor.” I don’t reply. “Spit it out, B. Was the sex that bad?”
“No. God no.” I laugh and then pinch the bridge of my nose. “He’s awesome, and each time has been great—”
“Each time?” She coughs the word out. “There’s been more than once?”
“Yes. No. Grrr,” I say with a part laugh, part sigh.
“You aren’t supposed to sound unsure of yourself after having incredible, mind-blowing sex, which I’m more than sure it was, so why do you?”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Words. Words are what you say.”
But she doesn’t push as the silence fills the line, and I figure how to articulate my thoughts. Maddie sees me across the way as she enters the building and lifts a hand in a wave. “How is it possible to feel on cloud nine with a man who I barely know but truly feel like I know, Kels? And even worse, I’m really happy, which is probably just from the endorphin rush from being with him the past couple of days. And I won’t bother getting into why I’m already silently panicking over what happens when this ends, but I am.”
“Oh Jesus. Did we take our overthinking pills this morning?” She laughs.
“It’s me, isn’t it? I always overthink. And, of course, I need to get inside, so I can’t talk—”
“Then I’ll be quick.” She tsks. “You’re allowed to be on any damn cloud you want without shame. Who says you don’t know him? Sometimes you simply have a connection with someone, and maybe Slade’s that someone. From the start, this whole thing with the two of you has been unexpected and weirdly right. So, don’t question the universe. Just accept it.”
“Uh-huh.” She’s crazy, but I nod in silent agreement.
“You aren’t happy because you’re with him. You’re happy because of how he makes you feel about yourself. You’re happy because you had some good sex with someone who I assume is treating you right. You’re happy because of you. Sure, he might point things out that make you see things differently, but no one can make you feel happy but yourself. So, wipe that nonsense out of your head.”
“I have to go,” I say and start walking across the grassy area toward the meeting room.
“And lastly,” she says as if she didn’t hear me, “it�
�s normal to wonder what happens next because something attracted the two of you to each other. If it truly is a rebound, then it’ll run its course, and you’ll rebound off him and bounce even higher. If it’s something more, then only time will tell. It’s been days, stop freaking.”
The problem isn’t that I’m freaking out, it’s because I’m not. It has been days, and parts of me swoon way too much at things Slade says, and I know my feelings are involved when they have no business being involved yet.
Blakely
“Are you having a good time?” I look over to Oversharing Olivia. Her smile is wide, and I don’t one hundred percent trust its sincerity.
“Yes, and you?” I ask.
“Between you, me, and the fencepost, we need to be doing less activities and more drinking. I feel like this is all staged. Too set-up. We get enough of this at work.” I glance around to make sure no one is paying attention. “I mean, how are we supposed to bond if every activity has us paired with our men? That defeats the purpose of bonding. It tells me Heather didn’t really plan this out.” She glances to the doorway Heather just walked through. “Either that, or just like this late entrance, she gets off on all of us waiting for her to make her grand entrance.”
I open my mouth to say something, but I hesitate, still not trusting that she’s being genuine.
It’s better if I just smile and nod and toe the company line that I support Heather instead of publicly questioning her.
“Hey. Hi,” Gemma says, her cheeks flush.
“Hey, Gemma,” I say as Olivia smiles at her.
“I was wondering if maybe you’d be my partner in the canoeing challenge we have later. I mean, that’s if Slade isn’t participating in this one, and—”
“Hal’s sitting that one out,” Olivia says.
“Sure,” I tell Gemma, knowing Slade won’t mind. He’s more excited for the fishing challenge than the canoeing one anyway.
“You’re a lot of fun to talk to and—”
“What’s the point of all of us team bonding and bullshit if we’re only doing challenges with our boyfriends?” Olivia interrupts Gemma again and repeats herself. “Doesn’t that defeat the purpose of learning to trust each other as coworkers when we’re never exactly challenged to work together?” She snorts and rolls her eyes in a way that has me actually thinking she isn’t in as much love with Heather as I thought.
It’s the second time Olivia’s brought this up in the conversation. She’s either looking for an affirmation or is waiting to see if I’ll badmouth Heather so she can run and tell her.
I gauge how to respond and opt for a cautious approach.
“True,” I muse as Olivia nods and lifts her eyebrows as if to see if I’m going to do something about it. “Slade and I discussed the same thing last night.”
“It wouldn’t take much—”
“Good morning, friends,” Heather says as she strolls into the room, thrilled with all of the attention angled her way. “I’m so excited to spend another wonderful day cementing our bonds and intertwining our thoughts,” she says and does the Namaste gesture with her hands.
Did she drink a cup of kindness this morning, because this does not sound like her.
“A few things before we start. I guess, last night there was a bear roaming through camp,” she says as everyone at the table looks back and forth at one another with annoying, excited chatter as I sit still, rooted in my chair. “What’s wrong, Blakely?”
I clear my throat. “Nothing.”
“You seriously aren’t worried about there being a bear out there are you?” Her voice is akin to microblading. It leaves tiny cuts across my skin over and over, and no matter how uncomfortable it gets, I always tell myself they are worth it when I know they aren’t.
“Well, the camp staff wouldn’t have asked you to mention it to us if it weren’t a concern.”
“Blakely Foxx scared over a bear. How cute is that?” She laughs and waves a hand my way. “You should probably be more scared of me than of a bear.”
“It doesn’t concern you at all?” I ask.
“No. But if it did, I’m the team leader, and I wouldn’t show it because I am a firm believer in leading by example. Showing your fear isn’t exactly doing that, now is it? She would buck-up and take one for the team.” She stares at me, that smirk I hate toying at the corners of her mouth, taunting me to question her. “If you have any hopes of advancing, you best figure out how to put on a braver face.”
Every part of me roils at her comment and public reprimand, but I bite my tongue and just smile as if I know something she doesn’t.
I think it hits its mark. Her jaw clenches. Her hands fist, and I know the moment she realizes it because she shoves them behind her back. And that lone eyebrow of hers shoots to her hairline as she contemplates what exactly the ghost of a smile on my lips says.
“We’re wasting time here.” She turns her attention to the rest of the group. “Now on to today’s topic . . .”
And so she goes in to a long diatribe about the purpose of diverse thoughts while single-handedly shutting down every person’s opinion in true Heather fashion.
The entire time we’re having our discussion, I’m preparing myself for what I’m going to say after. Line by line. The tone I’ll use. The way I’ll move my hands so she doesn’t read the nerves running rampant underneath. Everything.
When the time finally comes for everyone to leave, I stay in my seat until she notices me still there.
“Is there something you needed, Blakely?” she asks with that sharp snap to my name.
“I’m just trying to figure something out.”
Her hands stop stacking papers, and she very deliberately lifts her head so her eyes meet mine. “And what exactly is that?”
My heart is racing, my pulse pounding in my ear.
“Why it is you constantly feel the need to cut me down and criticize me in front of my coworkers? If you’re that unhappy with my work, why haven’t you just fired me?”
Her body jolts in surprise before she recovers, but she’s blinking too rapidly to pull off appearing unfazed. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“I did, I’m just surprised you have enough of a backbone to ask.” She leans her hips on the table behind her and crosses her arms over her chest.
“I have plenty of backbone, Heather. I’ve been in this game long enough to know it’s best to choose when to use it.”
“And you choose now?”
“It doesn’t seem that you discriminate when it comes to me, so why should you be offended that I chose right now, when we’re alone, to ask you?” I flash a catty smile. “I mean, unless you’d rather I confront you in front of the team. I think that my doing it this way is the proper way to be a leader. Don’t you?”
“You’ve always thought you were better than me.”
You’re correct on that one.
“You’re the only one who has ever thought that, so that’s on you,” I say and rub my palms on the thighs of my jeans. “So?”
She licks her lips, and her expression turns calculating. “Just because you’ve been here a long time—you know what? Never mind.”
“No.” I stand, hearing words that affirm everything I’ve thought about how she looks at me. “Just because I’ve been here a long time, what?”
Heather pushes off the table and shifts on her feet. “You seem to be the board’s darling. That’s the only justification I can find as to why you’ve lasted this long when no one else has.”
“Like I’ve said before, I’d think you’d look at that as a positive. I know what the board wants out of our department. I know how to approach them to get approval on out-of-the-box ideas. And my experience and tenure at Glam allows me to see how a different age group might look at a campaign geared for a younger subset.”
“And your tenure just might be the only reason you still have a job,” she grits out.
“Excuse me?” Finally. Something solid as to
what her problem with me is.
“I can’t fire you because the board would not take too kindly to it.”
“So, what? You’re just going to make my life miserable until I quit?”
Why did I not think to record this conversation on my phone?
Her grin widens, and she winks. “That’s the plan.”
And then she walks out.
Slade
My legs burn and my muscles are definitely feeling last night’s alcohol and possibly the killer sex I had as I jog the last quarter mile back to the cabin.
Mission accomplished.
Get a run in. Scope out the best fishing locations for the “competition” we’re supposedly having today. Get back in time to see just how well Blakely kicked Heather’s ass.
Thank god. It’s all I can think as the cabin comes into view through the thick of the trees.
This is what I came here for. The outdoors, some clean air in my lungs, and a little distance from everything. A distraction to pass the time while I wait for the call to reinstate me.
And it can come any fucking time.
The one thing I didn’t see coming was Blakely becoming part of that expected reprieve.
Out of breath and feeling that much better for it, I jog up the steps and am surprised when I find Blakely back already from her morning meetings.
“Hey . . .” I say, but my words fade the minute she turns her back to me and shoves away what I can only assume are tears because I can’t see them. “What’s going on, Blake?” I ask, my voice softening as a million fucking things that bitch Heather could have said or done run through my mind.
“I’m fine. It’s nothing.” Her voice is muffled as she rummages through her suitcase aimlessly to avoid me.
“You crying in our cabin isn’t nothing.”
“You just—you don’t understand.”
“Look at me,” I say. It takes her a second, but when she does, it guts me. Her eyes are rimmed in red, and even worse, the spark is gone. “Why do you put up with her?” I ask without knowing an iota of what happened. All I do know is this is the second time in as many days that Heather has put tears in those emerald-green eyes, and I’m sick of it. “Because the no-nonsense woman who I first met in that bar, the one who had me laughing and then wanting? The one who had me plotting and planning on a napkin after pretending to be something we weren’t? The one who was laughing so hard she couldn’t stop yesterday when we were, god forbid, breaking all the yoga rules . . . that no-nonsense woman would tell her boss to go to hell.”
