TRINA NEEDED TO GET out of the house. Bleach fumes gnawed at her brain, and the conversation with Tristan made her want to climb the walls.
She yanked a brush through her hair enough to pull the long strands into a ponytail, tugged on some jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt that didn’t smell like disinfectant, and pushed herself out the door.
The air was cool but not unpleasant, and nipped the heat from her face. She breathed deeply a few times and decided to walk, instead of drive anywhere. She’d explored the neighborhood when she first got here but didn’t spend much time appreciating the local shops. It would be a shame to leave without seeing some of them.
She strolled toward a café on the corner. As she got closer, the rich scent of coffee mingled with sugar and made her mouth water. The chalkboard on the sidewalk promised chocolate croissants, which sounded perfect.
She ducked inside, placed her order, and found a table to sit at. The place was mostly empty. Was that typical for a Saturday afternoon? Probably. It was pleasant.
It would be nicer if she had someone to share the experience with. Spencer slid back into her thoughts without permission. Sexy, fun, and cuddly. How was someone with that kind of build cuddly?
But she’d managed to stop thinking about him for almost half an hour. New record. She should start keeping a tally and reward herself at milestones. No thoughts of Spencer for an hour? Gold star. Two hours? New vibrator.
The thought made her smile, then brought more unwelcome images to the front of her mind. The way her skin came alive when he glided his fingers between her legs. How incredible it felt with him buried inside—
Her cheeks flushed hot from the memories, and she stared at the foam on her latte, willing the vivid thoughts away.
“Trina?” A voice interrupted her lust-tainted moping.
She looked up to see Mason standing next to her table. She forced a smile into place. “Hey. How are you? Have a seat, if you have time.”
“I’ve got a few minutes. Thanks.” His grin was nice. No expectation. No threat. He dropped into the chair across from her.
“I’m so sorry if I got you fired.” The apology flew out. She needed to get that out of the way up front.
He tilted his head and studied her with a frown. “I wasn’t fired. Why would you... What?”
“I might have talked to Human Resources about some stuff I overheard Doug saying about me. I filed an official complaint. But it only came up because someone told them you and I were dating, and they were worried you had coerced me into it, and I told them you definitely didn’t, but the next day you weren’t at work.”
His smile was back, but tinged with sadness. “It wasn’t you. I promise. My dad’s having some health problems, and I’m moving home, to be with my family.”
“Thank God.” She cringed. “Not for your dad. I’m so sorry to hear that. But I’m glad you weren’t fired.”
“Me too. And I’m glad you went to HR. You don’t deserve the kind of shit you were getting. I hope it’s better.”
She shrugged. “I’m not dealing with it anymore.”
“Good.”
“Because they fired me,” she said.
“Oh.” He huffed out the word. “Why? You’re good. I’m not only saying that because I’m biased.”
The words tugged something in the back of Trina’s head, but she couldn’t grasp it, so she shoved the thought aside. She wasn’t in the mood to get into details about Spencer, though. “A lot of reasons. It’s no big deal, though. I’m going back to Utah.”
“Cool.”
Silence fell between them, and she picked at her croissant. Now she remembered one of the reasons they broke up. They never had anything to talk about. Funny how that was never an issue with Spencer. Even when there was a lull in conversation, it felt comfortable.
“Do you ever think about us?” Mason blurted out.
The question caught her off guard. She shook her head, feeling bad about the admission. He obviously was, even if she didn’t.
“Yeah. Me neither.” His chair scraped against the tile when he stood. “It was great seeing you. Good luck with everything.”
“You too.”
She lingered a little longer in the café after he left, but the encounter stayed in her thoughts even on the walk home. She wasn’t thinking about Mason directly, though. Spencer was back in her thoughts.
Go figure.
Would that be her in two months? Wondering if Spencer missed her, when he’d moved on with life and she was still moping over her first?
She didn’t think that was the case. A strong confidence inside said Spencer was struggling with this as much as she was.
Mason probably told himself that about her, too.
Either way, she missed Spencer. More than she thought was possible. She swallowed past a lump in her throat. At this rate, it would be a year before she earned that vibrator.
She wanted the thought to make her smile, but it hurt more.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Sunday morning, Spencer was grateful to hit the waves as the sun was rising. This was what he needed, to get life back on track.
After wiping half a dozen times and getting drilled a few of those, he had to admit he didn’t have the drive to do this today. He grabbed his gear and headed back to the beach house.
The chill didn’t drill into his bones, though the ache of being pummeled by the waves did. It had been a long time since he’d performed so poorly.
It was a long time since he couldn’t get someone out of his head. The newness of the relationship still insisted this was different than with Mia. In a way, it was. Trina hadn’t betrayed him. She’d overreacted a few times, but so did he.
And he adored her company. And everything about her. He slammed the side of his fist against the house, but it didn’t adjust his mind. Didn’t clear her away.
Might as well go home.
He took a quick shower to wash off the sand and salt, then packed up his bag, to head back home. He took a circuit through the place, to make sure he wasn’t leaving anything behind that he’d need before the next trip. Not that he’d been here long enough for him to have pulled many things out, but it was habit.
In the bedroom, something caught his attention, and he whirled toward the flash of color. A red lace bra peeked out from under the bed.
That was fun taking off Trina.
Spencer wanted to hate the memory, but it made him smile. Until he thought of her wearing it for someone who wasn’t him. His scowl returned.
He should return it regardless. It was an expensive piece of clothing, and it was creepy to hang on to an ex’s underwear. He’d drop it in the mail on the way home.
Fuck it. He needed to see her. Make sure she was doing all right. Soothe the craving that itched to hear her voice. Trina was like the best kind of addiction, and he needed a fix.
Half an hour later, he was knocking on her apartment door. When she answered, her hair was pulled back, and she looked stunning. He wanted to wrap an arm around her waist and run his lips along her long, slender neck.
Instead, he handed her the folded lingerie. “I thought you might want this back.”
“Thanks.” Her cheeks flushed the same color as the lace.
Gorgeous. This was where he should tell her goodbye and good luck again. And leave. “Are you busy right now?”
She glanced over her shoulder, and the angle was enough to reveal a barren living room with boxes stacked in one corner. She looked back at him. “I should say yes, but if I scrub the walls any more, the paint may come off. Why?”
“I promised you a Star Wars movie. And there’s no point in seeing a movie without dinner after, so we can rave about how awesome it was. Can I kidnap you for the evening?” He should add Just as friends, but that was implied, wasn’t it?
“Yes.” Her smile warmed him more than the afternoon sun, and made him glad he left the offer as-is. “You can absolutely steal me away. Let me grab my shoes.”
&
nbsp; She returned seconds later, and they left.
He itched to take her hand as they walked down to his truck. Instead, he shoved his hands in his pockets. This wasn’t making up. It wasn’t any sort of commitment. It was hanging out one last time.
TRINA DIDN’T HESITATE to accept Spencer’s offer. It meant more hurt tomorrow, but for today she wanted to feel good for a few hours.
At the theater, he cheered with her when the Star Wars theme music started, drawing glares from the handful of viewers sharing the room with them. He didn’t spoil anything, and when she clutched his hand during the climactic fight scene, he squeezed back.
They sat there until the credits finished rolling and the lights came on. She blinked at the change, though it wasn’t bright. Disappointment whispered through her when he took his hand back as they stood to leave.
But his palm on the small of her back, steering her down the street instead of toward his truck, was an okay replacement. The sun was setting, and a chill whipped through the air. She shivered at a sudden gust of wind.
He rubbed her arms, and it took the last of her willpower not to fall back against him and tug herself into a hug. Maybe this was a bad idea after all.
Her doubts slid to the back of her mind when he stopped next to a street vendor selling hot dogs. “What do you want on yours?” he asked.
She grinned. “Relish, mustard, ketchup.”
“Two,” he said to the vendor. A moment later, he handed her a foil-wrapped dog and pointed her to a nearby bench.
“What has you smiling so much?” Spencer asked.
Everything. This moment. I don’t want it to ever end. That was laying things on a bit strong. “When the last prequel movie came out, Tristan took me to see it, and this is what we did after. Good memories.” And this would be another, regardless of how the day ended.
“He hates the prequels.”
Trina’s smile grew. “But I loved Ewan McGregor, and he said if I insisted on watching shitty films, I needed the full experience. I never quite understood what that meant.”
“When the originals were re-released, we were in high school.” Spencer leaned back against the bench. “The three of us skipped school. One week for every movie. We’d watch the film, then make ourselves sick on hot dogs after. Best three weeks of my high school career. And possibly the only time in his life your brother’s eaten hot dogs. Or I thought so.”
“Only time plus one.” She liked hearing these stories. Being a part of Spencer’s past this way. It would be nice to have more of it.
Her silly crush had gone on too long. The sooner she got over it, the sooner they could be friends instead.
They could be friends, couldn’t they? She needed that, because the thought of never seeing him again hurt too much.
They chatted a little longer about everything and nothing. Their favorite movies and rituals. The best places in Salt Lake and Malibu to get cupcakes or beer.
When she couldn’t keep from shivering without hugging herself, Spencer insisted it was time to go home.
“I guess,” she said, unable to hide her disappointment.
The ride back to her place was quiet. That same kind of awkward she’d had with Mason. The way it needed to be.
Still, when they got back to her place, Spencer walked her to the front door.
They both hesitated, and she watched her feet shuffle back and forth. “I guess goodby?” she said.
He kissed her on the cheek. “For now. Best of luck with everything. Not that you need it. You’ve got skill and most people can’t say that.”
She didn’t trust herself to reply, so she focused on unlocking the door. Impulse rushed through her, and she spun and tossed her arms around his neck.
He squeezed back, and she didn’t want to let go. If he hugged her tightly enough, it might smoosh her broken pieces back into place long enough they’d stayed glue for a couple more hours.
She finally managed to step away, then pushed inside her apartment before she could say something she regretted.
After she closed the door, her hand hovered on the knob. She listened for the sound of his footsteps in the hall, until eventually they faded away.
She wanted to run after him. Chase him down and ask for one more kiss. One more night.
That would make things hurt worse when she had to leave, though. Why was she leaving, again?
She didn’t have that answer, but she knew it was a must. The screaming in her head insisting otherwise was wrong. She was a silly girl with a silly crush on an older man who wasn’t meant to be hers.
She locked the deadbolt, and went to bed.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Spencer spent the night arguing with himself over whether he should have asked Trina if he could stay the night. Keeping their relationship a secret wasn’t an issue anymore—not that they had one to keep secret.
He’d gotten infinitely more sleep before he ended things, and he was close to deciding that text message was the biggest mistake he ever made.
Monday morning, he met with the company providing furniture for the new building. He walked through with their sales rep and went down the list of selections already decided, ensuring everything was still on track now that they had the property.
The tech install team stayed out from underfoot, and he was grateful for that. The last thing he wanted was to run into any of those people.
Furniture walkthrough done, he retreated to his office, to finish reviewing the Floor Two security footage, to check out the cameras. The images of Trina cut straight through him, and hearing her voice didn’t help.
But as he watched her interact with Doug, his blood pressure rose until his pulse thundered in his ears like angry drums. Half of the things out of the man’s mouth were insulting or sexist or both, and every time he made a mistake, he took it out on her, calling her clumsy and incompetent.
Voices drifted in to his office. Laughter from the install crew.
Spencer pushed back from his desk and stalked toward the door. The group was gathered in the break room, talking.
“Are you kidding?” Doug said. “I’m so much better off without her here. The only thing I miss now that she’s gone is that I didn’t get my turn in the dick sucking line. I guess once you’ve had money-wrapped cock, you’re too good for anything else.”
Spencer let the rage pour through him, hot and indignant, as he stalked toward the techs. Everyone, including Cody, was laughing at the comments, until they saw Spencer.
“Want to find out of if that’s true?” Spencer asked when he reached them.
Doug looked startled, but his shock rapidly shifted to a sneer. “Don’t take your homo fantasies out on me, because your cum receptacle was fired.” He looked around, as if expecting more laughter.
Cody winced.
Brian said, “Dude.”
Spencer fisted Doug's shirt near the collar and shoved him against the closest wall. The whimper-gasp that escaped Doug’s throat was satisfying, but not nearly enough.
“Are you going to deck me in front of all these witnesses?” Doug’s taunt wavered.
Spencer smirked. “No. In front of all these witnesses, I’m going to remind you the entire building is wired with security cameras. I’ve seen a good portion of the things you said to Trina Hough.”
“So you know your girlfriend was shit at her job.”
The guy had balls; Spencer had to give him that. He wasn’t impressed, though. “I know Ms. Hough is an exceptional technician, who had every one of your stupid fuckups blamed on her, and put up with your abuse and disdain because you held the power to get her fired.”
Because you’re insecure and probably have a tiny dick. Spencer wouldn’t resort to pettiness. Yet. He’d keep this professional as long as he could, despite what Doug tried to do.
“So I’m going to tell you, in front of all these witnesses—including those same cameras—that if once I’m done talking to my contacts, you won’t be able to find a significant job in t
ech anywhere in the country. And I’m going to recommend to your management that they terminate you immediately, because I’m currently reviewing hardware contracts, and I need to know I haven’t hired a company who tolerates your kind of behavior.”
“You’re going to blackmail them into firing me because you’re a statutory-raping asshole with more money than brains?”
“Doug.” Cody’s voice was sharp.
It was too little too late. The insults about Spencer didn’t bother him, but every new word said about Trina seared away more of his restraint. “No. I’m going to make the recommendation—not the extortion—because I have a Master’s of Science in Engineering, my networking certifications are current, and I know shitty, sloppy tech when I see it. And you are a shitty, sloppy tech. I’ll leave out any comments about your manhood and intelligence, as much as I’d like to bring them up, because I’d like one of us to stay professional through this.”
Doug planted his palms against Spencer’s chest, shoved him back with a grunt, and swung a fist.
Spencer rubbed the spot on his chin where he’d been clipped, and frowned. “Now I’m going to hit you.” He landed a punch square against Doug’s cheek. Soft tissue was the best. Not so hard it would break bone, but so it would leave a healthy bruise and not hurt Spencer’s knuckles too much.
“I’m going to sue your ass off.” Doug’s threat was a low growl.
Spencer barked a laugh. “Do that. Find a lawyer. Tell him the big mean CEO of Ride & Surf decked you. Neglect to mention to him that it’s because you’re a jackass with tiny-dick syndrome. Do you want to know how it goes from there?”
Doug glared.
Spencer took that as a sign he should continue. “He’ll file a complaint on your behalf, and I’ll make you a settlement offer out of pity. You’ll accept, because one—you’ll never see that kind of money again. Not with your skill. And two—your attorney will advise you not to take this in front of a jury. Because even if a jury sides with you, once the security footage goes viral, it will follow you and haunt you.
Riding the Wave Page 12
