Play Boy (Blue Collar Bachelors Book 2)

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  Her stiff brow makes an attempt a furrowing but it seems to freeze halfway. “I didn’t find your work on the internet,” she says matter-of-factly.

  My surprise bleeds onto my face. “I’m sorry, I—”

  “Oh, I thought you knew. Charlie Hartley introduced me to your work.”

  I drop my glass to the table so fast that the wine sloshes over the side and pools on the tablecloth.

  “Charlie introduced you to my work?!” I blurt it out like a parrot before I can manage to censor myself.

  “Yes, he did. Although I have to say that it was inadvertent. He was at my house with your sketchpad. I snuck a little peek. I couldn’t help it.” Her smile is completely insincere and she eyes me closely as if trying to gauge my reaction. “I won’t apologize because I immediately fell in love with your work.”

  A flood of betrayal nearly knocks me out of my chair. I try to piece the timeline together. Was Charlie seeing this woman while I was busy falling for him?

  And even more importantly, did I get this job based on my talent? Or was it just a part of this rich woman’s scheme to rip me away from him?

  Chapter 40

  Charlie

  There’s a hesitant knock at the door. I groan on the inside. It’s been a long day on the Silverberry worksite and I don’t want to deal with anybody right now. I just want some time to myself, to stare out the window. Apparently, that’s too much to ask.

  I look toward the door and the temp smiles at me. “Hi Charlie, can I come in?”

  With a weak nod, I spin my chair around and give her my attention. Licking her lips, she saunters into the room, her anxious gaze on my face. “What is it?” I ask gruffly.

  I don’t mean to be brusque but pleasantries are more than I can manage. Just getting out of bed, pulling on my boots and driving down to the worksite takes up all my energy most days. I’m completely depleted, running on empty.

  I’d almost forgotten that loving a woman and losing her could feel so draining. And Nova isn’t just any woman. She’s my best friend, too. I don’t know how I’ll ever find anything to fill the size of the hole she’s left in my life.

  Jackie—the temp—steps up to my desk with a pile of envelops in her hand. “Mail man just came by,” she says, her blue eyes twinkling amorously as she leans a round hip against my desk.

  The girl has a crush on me. Normally I’d be flattered but these days, it’s an annoyance. She walks around in her suggestive outfits with her pheromones spluttering all over the place and all I want to do is throw an aluminum blanket on her. Or douse her with a fire extinguisher.

  Still, I try to be polite. It’s a harmless crush and as long as she doesn’t act on it, there’s no need to hurt her feelings.

  She bends forward to place the first envelope in front of me. “Electricity bill,” she tells me before slapping down another envelope, “Internet.” And another, “Letter from your trade association regarding their annual conference.” And finally, “Personal letter from an Archibald Jones.”

  Shit. I still haven’t replied to his other letters.

  “Thank you, Jackie,” I say as I gather the papers in my hand and toss them to the edge of the desk.

  She sighs heavily and I feel her eyes on me. When I look up, she bites the corner of her lip and hesitates before leaning a little closer. “Look, I know that you don’t know me and I’m only here while Sharon is on maternity leave but my job is to make your life easier…and I see how tense you are…” She flips her blonde hair over her shoulder. “I want you to know that I take my role very seriously. So, if you ever need my help…with anything…” She bites the corner of her lip and her eyelids grow heavy.

  Is this woman propositioning me?

  This is the kind of thing that would have made my dick hard two months ago. Before I got a taste of Nova, I would have been pulling Jackie into my lap and roughing my hand up her thighs and making her come on my fingers.

  But I’m not that guy anymore. There’s only one woman for me. I’m sure of that now and no one else will do.

  Thoroughly pissed off, I stand from my chair and motion to the door with my hand. “Get out!”

  Jackie’s eyes widen as she looks up at me, stunned. “I—I’m sorry…I.”

  “Get. The. Fuck. Out.” I order her. “And pack your things. Call your temp agency and tell them to send me someone else.”

  She’s crying as she runs out of the room, covering her face with her hands. I don’t care. My thoughts are focused on one thing, one person. Nova is the only one I want.

  Enough of this. I’m done torturing myself.

  I snatch the stack of mail again and sift through it until I find what I’m looking for, the letter from my general contractor’s association. Tearing it open, I read and memorize the information printed on the page. Overcome by a sense of urgency, I grab my fleece overshirt, my phone and my keys before marching out of my office.

  Jackie is still crying, gathering up her things as I storm by. I throw her a look. I feel no pity. “Make sure to lock up and put the key in the mailbox outside. And I don’t want to see you here on Monday.”

  The heavy metal door creaks shut behind me.

  Chapter 41

  Nova

  Work has been awkward ever since my lunch with Lori last week. With every sketch that I submit, with every idea that I present, with every freakin’ trip to the toilet, there’s a nagging little voice at the back of my head questioning whether I’m here because I’m good at what I do or if I’m just here to clear the path for my boss to sink her claws into Charlie.

  I see my coworkers huddled by the coffee machine and I instantly assume that they’re gossiping about me. I receive a critical comment from a superior and I lie on Nadia’s couch all night replaying it over in my head. Lori skips a day at the office and I drive myself crazy wondering if she’s in Copper Heights in Charlie’s arms.

  Being here was supposed to be a dream come true. It was chance to finally look myself in the mirror and bask in the pride of knowing that I did it! That my bullies were wrong about me. That I am valuable. But instead, this job has turned into a prison.

  I look up from my drawing board just in time to see Lori draping her light silk scarf around her slender throat. God knows how much I want to sneak up on her and strangle her with it. Blissfully oblivious to my silent death wishes, she flashes me a flamboyant wave as she goes. “Have a good weekend, Nora. Don’t work too hard.”

  My smile is as wholesome and natural as a ten-pound GMO strawberry. I give her a mawkish wave to go along with it. A litany of images dash through my mind. They all involve Lori with Charlie doing ungodly things to each other.

  Appendages being stuffed into orifices. Limbs contorting in ways that should be illegal. Charlie performing that hot sex thing he does with kneecaps and his pinkie toe.

  Why do I keep torturing myself?

  Before I found out that Charlie was the reason that Lori hired me, I was about to call him and try to figure out a way to work things out but now, I’ve put that idea out of my mind. There’s no going back for the two of us. We should have never crossed the bright, red line in the sand to begin with. But we did. And he ruined me for every other man. Now, I’m suffering the consequences. I don’t even deserve my own self-pity. I’m not exactly a victim here.

  I sigh under the crushing weight of my regret as I swivel my stool back toward my work. Paper to pencil. One frame at a time. That’s the only way to get through this. The only way to deal with the hurt and the doubt and the self-recrimination.

  Laughter floats down the hall and I see a group of my coworkers, romping their way to the elevator. “Have a good weekend, new girl. Don’t—”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah—Don’t work too hard.”

  They freeze and stare at me for a second before one or two shoulders lift in carefree shrugs and they resume their jaunt toward the exit.

  God—I miss Reese and Sophia right now.

  I’d love to see their faces. Maybe I
can Skype them. I shove my hand into the pocket of my jeans to shoot them a group text. That’s when I realize that I have a single message waiting for me on my phone.

  It’s from Charlie.

  Charlie: Im in New York & I want to see u

  Chapter 42

  Charlie

  “Charlie Hartley? Is that you?”

  Slowly, I spin away from the bar with my gin and tonic gripped tightly in my hand. I look into the exuberant face of a man I don’t recognize. A carefully-determined amount of shiny blond hair peeking out from under the lip of his beanie hat. An over-conditioned beard, groomed with the skill of a sculptor. A checkered flannel shirt tucked into dark skinny jeans. He smells like moisturizer. The guy is taking the lumbersexual trend a little too far.

  He stretches a well-groomed hand out to me and tells me his name. I’ve already forgotten it.

  But he’s too damn chipper to even notice that I’m not paying attention. He leans his svelte frame on the counter next to me. “Your reputation precedes you, man. All these years in the construction business and you finally decide to come to the annual conference and grace us with your presence.” His nasally chuckle shakes his chest. “What gives?”

  “Just here for the…talks.” A tight smile unfolds on my face.

  His head bounces enthusiastically as he brings his bottle of craft beer to his mouth. “Yeah—we’ve got some great talks this year. Did you hear I’ll be leading the panel on energy efficiency and the sustainability of building materials in the 21st century tomorrow morning? Really innovative stuff.” He launches into a monologue about eco-friendly construction practices and micro-houses in urban settlements. Huh?

  I don’t give a fuck about the talks. Or the workshops. Or the fucking roundtable discussions. I don’t care about the experts or the industry trends or any of that shit. I don’t care about this construction industry conference that I just paid four-figures to attend. I’m in New York City for one reason.

  And that reason just walked through the door.

  Everything around me fades away. The rambling of the man next to me melts into the other sounds filling the bar. Every receptor in my body is focused on Nova as she steps into the place.

  A gust of wind causes her hair to flutter over her brow as the door closes behind her. It causes her little green dress to mold to her breasts, lifting up the hem just enough to remind me of the thickness of her curvy thighs.

  She pushes her curls out of her view as her eyes scan the bar and when they land on me, the impact of it is like getting stomped in the gut with a steel-toe boot. Looking at me, she seems a bit hazy, too. She doesn’t even notice it when the hostess tries to offer her a table.

  Without taking my eyes off of her, I abandon my drink on the counter and stalk off in her direction, meeting her halfway across the room.

  “Hi…” Before I can even consciously decide on a course of action, my arms are around her waist and I’m pulling her against my body, locking her in a hug.

  When her hands wrap behind my back, I feel the deep burst of air that leaves her lungs as she settles into my hold. “Hi…”

  I take a whiff of her sweet-smelling hair. This is what home feels like. This is what perfect feels like.

  She eases away from me and I instantly feel cold. I miss her and she’s standing right here in front of me. The soft smile on her lips is the only thing that keeps me from crumbling to my knees.

  A somewhat rowdy group does their best to sidestep us as they head toward the door. One of the assholes jostles Nova, causing her to stumble as he passes by. Instinct takes over as I grab him by the arm and give him a shove. “Hey! Watch it, would you?”

  He holds up his arms in a non-threatening gesture in response to my overly protective reaction. “Yo! Sorry. Didn’t mean to.”

  With a little nod, Nova accepts his apology. “We should find a table.” Her hand falls to my bicep to nudge me toward the seats at the back. The light touch causes a shiver to shoot down the back of my neck.

  Once we’re seated and the hostess has offered us menus, Nova’s eyes scan my face. Her expression is somber and melancholy. She smiles anyway. “You look good,” she says.

  I lean across the table and barely keep from taking her hands in mine. “You look amazing,” I tell her. “Gorgeous.” I’m eager. A little too much. But you can’t blame me. These past few weeks without her have been hell.

  Her eyelids flutter down to the table and she tucks a wild lock of hair behind her ear. But the wayward curl rebounds, springing across her forehead. Fucking adorable. I want to tell her that, I want to pour my whole heart out to her but I don’t even know where we stand right now.

  She’s uncomfortable, on edge. I can’t stand it. I want her to feel with me. Always.

  “How have you been?” I ask. That seems like a good place to start.

  She tips her head to the side and her gaze doesn’t leave her hands on the table. “Good. Adjusting to the city. Still trying to figure out the subway, y’know? You said you’re in town for a construction industry conference?”

  I nod impishly, hanging onto her every word, memorizing her every gesture. “Yeah, yeah.”

  She chances a peek up at me. “How have things been with you?”

  I’ve been miserable. I’ve been regretting the fact that I didn’t try harder with you. I hate the fact that you walked away. And now you’re in a different time zone and my days are filled with missing you.

  That’s what I want to say. But this is New York and you never know who’s listening in from the next table. If I’m not careful my tragic confession may end up on Broadway.

  To keep from making a fool of myself, I steer the conversation into safe territory. “How is work? Are you liking the people in your office?”

  Her expression darkens ominously. “You almost make that sound like an innocent question…” A bitter, little laugh spills from her lips.

  Confusion shows up on my brow. “It is an innocent question.”

  She just chuffs and sips water from the glass that the server places in front of her. “Well, then I guess it’s all just a strange coincidence.”

  “Nova, what are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about my job at CXT. I thought that I was hired because I was talented and I deserved the spot. Come to find out that my boss only hired me so she could have you all to herself…” She sucks in a deep breath, visibly forcing herself to relax before she utters her next words. “That really hurts, Charlie…”

  I shake my head at her. “I really have no clue what you’re talking about.”

  Her eyes narrow. “You honestly don’t know?”

  “I honestly don’t know…”

  She purses her lips for just long enough to calm herself. “My boss said she hired me after she saw you with my sketchpad…”

  That little bit of information makes no sense to me. “Your sketchpad…I only ever had your sketchpad once…” Oh, fuck! “Wait—Lorraine Arthur is your boss?”

  She nods.

  I think my jaw drops out and hits the table.

  “She saw you with my sketchpad and she Googled me, Charlie. She tracked me down and she gave me a job that landed me in New York.”

  “Oh, fucking shit…” I scrub a hand over my scalp as the words sputter out of my mouth.

  Nova’s voice vibrates with restrained anger and her green-eyed gaze fills with tears. “This isn’t a game to me. Living off of creativity is my dream. My art, my music—they’re sacred to me.” She looks away, running the side of her finger along the rim of her eyes. “I thought that this was my chance. That I’d finally get to prove that I am good enough. That I can get my shit together. And now, it’s just tainted. And I don’t know what to do. Should I leave the job and hope that something else comes along or do I stay put and fight to prove that I belong here? I just don’t know.”

  I finally break down. I reach across the table and pull her hands into mine. “Nova, I didn’t know anything about Lorraine hir
ing you. My crew finished work on her house weeks ago and I haven’t seen her since.” I hope she can see the earnesty on my face. “But you deserve this job. You’re so talented. It’s about time you get the recognition you deserve.”

  Her expression remains doubtful. “This is such crap…” Her gaze falls to the table. She looks devastated and it’s hurting my heart. Seeing her like that and knowing that it’s my fault…

  I slide out of my side of the booth and climb in beside her. She lifts her face to me. I can’t help the words that fall out of my mouth. “I’ve missed you so much…” The confession releases the stranglehold on my heart. “And I’m sorry for the ways I’ve hurt you.”