Trouble

by Tia Louise

“I told you it wouldn’t.”

  Glancing at the table, I see we’ve eaten most of the fish. I’m about to say I’ll call it a night when an electronic drum beat echoes over the crowd, and the singer launches into “Red, Red Wine.”

  Joselyn’s hands fly to her face in surprise, and Daisy cuts her husband a disgusted look.

  “I didn’t do it,” Scout insists, holding up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

  “You did not just say that,” Joselyn cackles, and my stomach tightens. Why is she so damn intriguing to me?

  Daisy is not impressed, but I notice Miles approaching from behind her.

  “Hello, friends!” he calls. “Hello, Spencer! Daisy, I played this song just for you. I heard it’s your favorite.”

  Her eyes widen, and Scout gives her a smug look.

  With a groan, she stands and hugs our former boss. “Miles, I’m so glad you made it. Did you just get in town? Have some sushi. There’s plenty.”

  “We have to dance.” Scout is on his feet, catching her hand. “Miles played this song just for you, Tink.”

  “Miles has impeccable timing,” I mutter to Joselyn.

  She snorts a laugh, covering her mouth. “I don’t know why Daisy hates this song so much. It’s not that bad.”

  “It’s that bad.”

  “What’s funny is the way she gets so bent out of shape about it.” Her voice is so light, compared to how she was in Columbia. I can’t resist.

  “Want to dance?”

  She leans back like she’s stunned, but her eyebrows rise with a nod. “Sure.”

  Taking her hand, I lead her to the floor, ignoring the surge in my chest, the fact of how much I’ve wanted to hold her in my arms again.

  Moving through the press of dancers, she puts a hand on my waist. Her cheek is at my shoulder, and I hold her other hand close.

  Her body is soft against mine, soft breasts against the hardness of my chest. It’s a tantalizing memory of how our bodies feel bare against each other’s, how gorgeous her tits are, how she sounds coming on my mouth.

  She’s not wearing heels, so the top of her head is right under my nose. I only have to tilt my chin down to inhale creamy magnolia…

  She weakens my defenses, but my instinct pushes back. Clearing my throat, I refocus. “You seem to make a habit of flirting with married men.”

  Her body stiffens. “I’m sorry? What did you just say?”

  “Yesterday it was John. Today, it’s Scout…”

  She tries to pull away, but I tighten my hold. Her nose is slightly upturned, and her blue eyes flash in the yellow lights.

  “I’m not flirting with married men.” Her teeth are gritted, and fuck me, her feistiness makes me hard.

  “That’s not how it appears.”

  We move side to side in silence, and I think I have her until her lips relax into a smile. Her wicked sass emerges. “I see,” she nods. “You’re jealous.”

  “Jealousy is never a good look on anyone. You won’t see it on me. I just think as someone who has experienced the pain of infidelity, you wouldn’t want to inflict it on others.”

  The fire is back in her eyes. “You are such an ass—”

  “Yes, I’ve been told.”

  “For your information, Scout and I grew up together. He’s like a brother to me. I introduced him to Daisy when we were in high school, because they’re perfect for each other. I practically shoved them into each other’s arms. I have no interest in him romantically.”

  “Or JR?” I don’t like that guy. He’s an asshole just like me, and she’s drawn to him—just like she is to me.

  “I stopped crushing on JR years ago.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Why do you care?”

  “I don’t.”

  Her eyes narrow, then she looks away. “When he got married, those feelings went away. I’m not a cheater. I never have been. I’m honest, and I respect other people’s feelings.”

  I’m glad to hear it, but I don’t say it out loud. I’ve shown enough of my cards for one night, and either way, her dating life is none of my concern. I don’t know why I even asked. I need to re-establish the space between us.

  The song has changed, and now they’re playing slow-assed Clapton like every beach band on the planet. I preferred him when he was on drugs.

  The rest of our party has returned to the table, where they’re laughing and joking as usual.

  I glance down at her secure in my arms. I don’t know what to make of her—or me. “You’re different here.”

  “Am I?”

  “You laugh more.”

  Her head tilts to the side, and I watch her consider this. “It’s my home. I’m with people I’ve known all my life. It’s familiar, I guess.”

  “So why don’t you move back?”

  “You sound like Daisy.” Her tone grows impatient. “I have no interest in moving back to the low-key, ‘What are you going to do with your life?’ all the time. No thanks, I’d rather have a root canal.”

  “Is this coming from your mother?”

  “It comes from everybody. They’re all wonderful when I’m here for a visit, but if I stay too long, it turns into nonstop pressure to either get married and have kids or to be the best whatever at whatever. No resting on your laurels in Fireside. It’s much easier to leave and be a failure than to stay and simply exist.”

  Unexpected. “How old are you, Joselyn?”

  She hesitates a moment, as if her age is something to hide. “I’m twenty-five.”

  “You’re hardly old enough to be a failure at anything. Maybe they’re excited for your potential.”

  “You couldn’t possibly understand. You’ve never had to work to prove yourself.”

  A laugh breaks from my throat. “You have no idea what my life has been like. No one gets a free ride.”

  Her chin drops, and she studies my shirt. “I keep forgetting I don’t know anything about you. I’m sorry.”

  The song is coming to an end, and I slide a lock of bright red hair off her cheek. “No harm done.”

  She glances up at me. “After Saturday, you won’t be my boss anymore.”

  “It’s true. It will be the end of our professional relationship.” Grazing my eyes along her cheekbone, I confess, I’ll miss her. “What will you do then?”

  “Back to building my client list, pounding the pavement.”

  “If you need help, I write a pretty decent letter of recommendation.”

  “I don’t know if a florist rec will help me, but if you know anyone who needs massage therapy or sports medicine, be sure to send them my way. Or if you ever need it yourself.”

  “Done. I like having you under me.”

  She gives me a naughty grin. “That’s not how I remember it.”

  My eyes are drawn to her full lips, which are glossy pink tonight. Her cheeks are flushed, and I don’t miss the gentle rise and fall of her breasts.

  Her ocean eyes are clear and curious. This little ember wants to melt her way through my walls, but it’s not an option.

  Time to pour some freezing water on this fire.

  “You’re right. We don’t know each other well, but I believe you’re an intelligent person. At least, it appears your memory functions properly. In my office I told you I don’t do relationships. To be completely clear going forward, what I meant is I don’t sleep with the same woman more than once. I do fucking. Nothing more.”

  Her blue eyes slide to the side. “You do fucking. Now, where have I heard that line before?”

  “I’m sure you’ve seen it in a movie or you’ve read it in a book, and you think I’m not serious or it’s just a line. Or somehow your magic pussy will change my mind and make me grow a heart or some other form of attachment. It won’t.”

  “That sounds both very lonely and very risky to me.”

  “I don’t take risks, and I’m never alone unless I want to be.”

  “I see. Just out of curiosity, why do you find it necessary to ha
ve such a rule? I’m open to a little no-strings-attached sex every now and then.”

  “Ah, but you see, if I ever break my rule, if I ever fuck the same woman twice, suddenly she forgets what I just said. She thinks it happened—her magic pussy has broken the spell, and I’ve changed my evil ways. That’s when it all becomes very messy. I also don’t do messes.”

  “You almost sound proud of yourself.” She gives me that sassy grin, and I’m annoyed her defiance is such a turn-on to me.

  “I also told you before, I’m honest.”

  “Then it sounds like I’m wasting your time.” The sarcastic edge in her voice tells me she’s angry.

  I tell myself it’s good. It’s how it should be.

  Lowering my hands, I give her a slight bow. “Thank you for the dance, Joselyn. Have a good evening.”

  Then I step back and let her walk away.

  Chapter 11

  Joselyn

  “I’ve got to say, I’m impressed.” Courtney walks slowly around, gazing up at the larger-than-life topiary statues of Belle and Prince Adam.

  “Aunt Sly used a blowtorch!” Ollie hops in front of her holding his hands up like he has a rocket. I can tell he’s missed her by how excited he is. “She’d put it on the metal and Boosh! Sparks flew everywhere!”

  “I told him not to look at the flame. You did what I said, right Olls?” I’m perched on a ladder, threading the final roses in Belle’s bodice.

  He nods dutifully, but Courtney is still staring up in wonder. “How did you ever learn to do all of this?”

  Sitting back on the ladder, I study the massive arrangement. “I mostly taught myself. You’d be surprised what you can learn on YouTube. Then I took some welding classes at school, and I talked to different florists to get advice on which flowers work best in topiaries.”

  She shakes her head. “I can’t believe you did it all by yourself. And so fast!”

  “JR and Scout helped me with the framing—and Spencer, I guess.” The asshole. I’m still trying to decide how pissed I am about last night. “I’m nowhere near done. Once I’m finished with these final roses, I have to make all the arrangements for the tables. Being a florist is work.”

  “Hold up, back it up.” Court lifts both hands along with her eyebrows. “Did I hear you say Spencer helped you? Mr. Brown Chicken Brown Cow?”

  Ollie rolls his eyes and takes off across the glossy wooden ballroom floor towards the exit. “I’m out of here.”

  I make a face, but his mother only laughs. “I guess he knows about everything by now.”

  “To answer your question, yes. Spencer helped me, and we’ve been very professional. No funny business at all. In fact, I have it straight from the horse’s mouth we will not be revisiting his bedroom.”

  “Eh, so you’ll visit yours,” she deadpans.

  “Mr. Carrollton says he never sleeps with the same woman twice.”

  My friend’s forehead crinkles, and she looks as confused as I felt last night when he said it. “That’s strangely sucky.”

  It absolutely is, but let him have his silly rules. Spencer Carrollton has lived up to his nickname one hundred percent on this trip. He has completely frozen me out.

  When Scout was helping me yesterday, I caught him glaring at us a few times in a way that I wanted to believe was jealousy. I tried to poke that bear, but he only went home early.

  Now, after what he said last night, I’ll be damned if I’m going to chase after him, no matter how magnetic it feels when I’m in his arms or how my eyes slide closed when he inhales deeply at the top of my head…

  Which makes absolutely no sense. I should have told him he was full of shit. He wants me as much as I want him. It’s not my job to tell him to get his head out of his ass.

  Anger tingles in my throat, and I grit my teeth. “Fuck Spencer Carrollton. This will all be over tomorrow night, and I can get on with my life. I’m not wasting any more time running down dead-end roads.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Courtney’s such a great friend.

  “How about you? Any word from Ozzy this week?”

  “Not a peep. Maybe he’s decided to leave us alone finally. I can hope, right?”

  A pinch of dread is in the pit of my stomach, but I want to be as encouraging to her as she is to me. “We’re going to do more than hope. We’re going to find some good men, not abusers or icebergs who only want to screw around and wreck our lives. They’re out there, and we’re going to find them.”

  “Preach!”

  Feeling motivated, I return to my work, giving the floral statues a final inspection. “Hey, Court, hand me two more of those roses, and I’ll be done.”

  She steps forward, grabbing two oversized pink flowers from the bucket of water. I stoop down to get them, ignoring the sway of the ladder. It’s been doing that all day.

  “Where is he now?” She asks as I straighten, leaning forward into the statue again so I can thread these last two pieces.

  “Where is who?” Spencer’s deep voice makes my heart jump to my throat, and my foot twists in the rung, causing the ladder to sway wildly.

  “Oh, shit!” My hands go out, and panic grips my spine. “No… NO!”

  I can’t fall on the statues. They’ll be ruined, and I don’t have time to get more flowers. Hell, nobody will even have enough flowers to recreate them on such short notice.

  These thoughts flash across my mind, but it’s too late. The ladder is collapsing, and my body weight is headed straight into Belle and Adam.

  “Oh my God!” Courtney screams.

  “Joselyn!” Spencer shouts.

  At the last second, I arch my back, doing my best to throw my body weight away from the statues. The ladder jerks like somebody grabs it. My forward momentum halts, but my balance is shot. I’m going down.

  “NO!” I cry, bracing for impact, praying I don’t slam my head against the floor.

  With an Oof! I land on something hard. Spencer has me in his arms, and I grasp his shoulder. Only, we’re still moving too fast. He lets out a loud groan as we go all the way down, crashing to the floor.

  “Sly, oh my God!” Courtney is at my side, holding my hand, and I blink at the chandeliers overhead, trying to focus.

  It all happened so fast.

  “Dammit, Sin.” Spencer grunts from under me. “Are you hurt?”

  Courtney helps me roll to the side then onto my hands and knees, all while trying to catch my breath.

  “I’m okay,” I gasp.

  Trembling breaks through my body, and a tear falls onto my cheek. I’m not really crying. It’s all the adrenaline mixed with the relief I didn’t just smash all our hard work… or my skull.

  Spencer struggles onto his butt beside me, placing a hand gently on my lower back. “Look at me.” Lifting my head, I meet worried hazel eyes.

  He slides a thumb across my cheek, wiping the tears away. “Are you dizzy? Nauseated?”

  “No…” I shake my head just before I collapse into his strong arms. They surround me quickly, muffling my voice against his chest. “You saved me. You saved everything.”

  Courtney sits beside us, stroking my hair. “You did some pretty impressive acrobatics getting away from it. It’s more like you saved the flowers. He saved your head from splatting all over the floor.”

  I feel the muscles in Spencer’s body flinch. “That does it,” he grumbles. “No more sculptures without a safety net… and a football helmet and metal gloves.”

  Leaning back, I wipe my nose with the back of my hand. “Now I remember why I stopped doing these things.”

  “They’re hazardous to your health.” His voice is so grumpy, I start to laugh.

  Tears fill my eyes again, and I can’t stop laughing. I think I’ve lost it. “Thank you for saving my life.”

  “Sly?” Daisy’s high voice echoes in the empty ballroom. “What the hell—Spencer? Are you okay?”

  “Can you stand?” Spencer’s voice is gentler than I’ve ever heard it.

&nb
sp; He holds my hand and my elbow, helping me to stand carefully. Daisy is at my side wrapping her arm around my waist.

  “What happened?”

  “Oh, you know,” I try to joke. “The usual Sly-near-death-experience on a bed of roses.”

  Her blue eyes are worried, and Spencer pats her back. “She’s going to be okay.”

  “Whoa, what the hell? What did I miss this time?” Scout is with us, catching my other arm and helping me to a chair.

  “I’m really fine.” I try to push back on all the fussing. Now it’s just overkill.

  Spencer seems to have disappeared, and when I finally spot him, he’s bracing one hand on a table and leaning to the side. His face is ashen, and his eyes are squinted in a grimace.

  “Spencer, are you okay?” I angle through the crowd of my friends, making my way to where my savior is clearly hurt. “Did I break something?”

  His grimace is immediately replaced with a tight smile. “No, it’s fine. I’m just catching my breath.”

  He isn’t fooling anybody.

  “Is it your ribs? Ribs can’t really be fixed, but we can tape them.” Scout steps forward, which only makes him withdraw more.

  “It’s not my ribs.” Spencer holds up a hand. “It’s an old injury. I tweaked my back playing racquetball with Miles. I probably irritated the muscle.”

  “If that’s the case, Sly can help you. She got her degree in sports medicine, massage therapy. Give him the works, Sly.” Scout motions between us, but I hesitate.

  “I’m glad to check you out. We can do it here or at my mom’s… Wherever you feel comfortable.”

  “I’m going to head up to my room and see if I can treat it with ice and heat. I’ve got a nice jacuzzi tub. If none of that works, I’ll let you know. I’m glad you’re okay.” It’s a dismissive retort, and he limps to the doors.

  If I didn’t know him better, I’d say he was running away. Only, not the great, cold and distant Spencer Carrollton. He’s far too fierce for that… Right?

  “That guy is such a dick.” Scout shakes his head, but I punch him in the arm.

  “That man just saved my life—and the centerpiece for the gala. Show some respect.”

  “Ow—don’t hit me, witch.”