Unrefined (Monroe Series Book 3)

by Nicole Dykes

  She slaps my arm, “He’s not a pussy. I am. And you don’t come back from that. He had everything planned out, he wanted it all with me and I should have wanted it with him. I mean he loved me and he didn’t just say it, he showed it. He would actually ask me how I’m feeling and then listen to the response instead of staring at my tits.”

  Damn. I look up quickly from her chest. She has a nice rack, so fucking sue me. “Maybe he’s gay.”

  “He’s not gay, asshole. He just cared and he’s sensitive.”

  “So why did you turn down his proposal if he’s so fucking perfect.”

  “I was scared. It’s the story of my life, I think I want love and commitment, to be like my parents and then when I have a chance at it, I run. I’m a coward.”

  I drape my arm over her shoulder, “Alex, you are no coward. I’m not going to lie, I don’t get this thing with you and Nerd Boy, but if you want him, then I say go for it. But It probably is a good idea to make sure it’s what you want first though.”

  She leans into my shoulder, “I love him, but I don’t think I have the suburban housewife thing in me.”

  I chuckle at that, “So tell him what you want. Be your straightforward self, you are worth it.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” I wait a beat, “So you wanna go back to my place and bang one out? I’ll make you forget all about what’s his name.”

  She laughs and removes my arm from around her, pushing me away, “Jackass.”

  I’m mostly kidding and she knows it and then she changes the subject, “So who was the ‘Barbie’ you were talking to before you came over here?”

  “Just a client.”

  Her eyebrows raise with suspicion, “A client?”

  “Well her husband is a client of ours, and now we are going to customize a car for her.”

  “Ah the sexy, silver fox next to her?”

  Sexy? “He’s not sexy, I’m fucking sexy, he’s nothing.”

  “Jesus, Jax, we all know you are sexy, but he’s a good looking older man. So she’s his wife and not his mistress?”

  “Yep, they’ve been married for almost seven years.”

  “Damn, well if she’s a gold digger then she made a good choice. At least she’s not banging some really old guy.”

  I’ve only just met Charlotte, but I really don’t think she’s a gold digger.

  “I don’t think she’s in it for the money, she seems to actually care about him for whatever reason.”

  I can feel Alex examining my face, even though I’m not looking directly at her, “Jax, I don’t have to tell you not to fuck your client’s wife, right?”

  “No, I’m not fucking stupid, Alex.”

  She nods her head, “Right.” But then she adds, “Don’t fuck you your client’s wife.”

  I sigh, “Not a problem.”

  She pats my shoulder and stands up, “Good boy, I’m going to sneak out of here I don’t think they will notice.”

  She nods her head to where Brooke and Dylan are clinging onto each other on the dance floor. “Damn, they are so fucking happy.”

  She laughs, “It’s annoying isn’t it.”

  I agree, “Yep. See ya around Alex.”

  She ducks out of the party and when the song ends, Brooke moves over to a table to join Gabby and Cassie. I see Dylan walking over to where I am.

  “Hey, did I see you talking to Senator Warren earlier?”

  I nod my head in affirmation and move my gaze to where the Senator and his wife are talking with another couple across the room. It’s not really a group conversation though, the women are both standing there motionless. Hanging on their husband’s arms like the good pieces of arm candy that they are, staying silent. “Yeah.”

  He takes the seat Alex was just in, “Everything cool? He’s happy with his car?”

  I’m still looking in their direction, fixated on Charlotte, “Of course, he’s fucking thrilled. He’s even going to have us build his wife a car.”

  Dylan follows my gaze, “Shit, that is his wife? I thought for sure that she must have been a mistress or something.”

  I’m glad that I’m not the only one shocked by his wife. I had always pictured him being married to someone his age, someone uninteresting. Charlotte’s eyes meet mine and she shyly looks away like she did something wrong, when in actuality I’m the one that has been staring at her all night. Get it together Jax. “Nope.”

  Dylan’s attention is back to me so I force myself to pull my eyes away from where Charlotte is standing, “Damn. So you have another three months or so with him attached to your hip?”

  “Actually, it seems like he’s going to let her take point on this one. It’s her car.”

  Dylan scratches his chin, the worry slowly spreading on his face, “That guy is the biggest control freak that we have. Jax, you better make sure it’s done to his liking.”

  “Of course I will. It’ll be done perfectly down to the last detail. Don’t worry about it, I have it handled.”

  “Right, so it’s just going to be you and his wife for at least three months?”

  I can hear the suspicion in his tone and it’s starting to piss me off, he has no fucking reason not to trust me. “What’s your point?”

  “My point is you can’t think with your cock on this. She’s hot and I know you.”

  “Gee thanks man, act like I’m some kind of hormonal teenager. I can keep it in my pants when I need to. I’m not the one with a history of fucking the wrong people.”

  “Hey, one of them worked out fucking great for me, but this would not work out that great for you.”

  I hold up my hands in surrender, “I just talked to her for maybe two minutes, relax.”

  He runs his fingers through his hair, I think the stress of his impending fatherhood is really starting to get to him. “I know, but Senator Warren is a powerful man in this town, he knows everyone. If we cross him, it could be bad for business.”

  “He will be satisfied when this is all over. You have my word.”

  He grasps my shoulder, “I have faith in you buddy, sorry about that. I know this business is above everything else for you. I shouldn’t have even considered it.”

  “Damn straight.”

  When it comes to Dylan, my word means a lot to me. Now I just have to make sure that I keep it.

  Chapter 3

  Charlotte

  “Charlotte honey, wake up.”

  I feel a strong hand on my shoulder, and slowly will my eyes to open to see my husband standing beside my bed, “Nicholas?”

  “Good morning, my dear. Did you sleep well?”

  Nicholas is already dressed in his crisp, navy suit, his hair is styled to absolute perfection. Nothing new here. “Yes, I did. I guess the party last night wore me out.” I glance at his side of the bed, it’s completely untouched. “You didn’t come to bed last night?”

  He straightens his tie, “Oh no, I had some work to do and I didn’t want to wake you.”

  I sit up in bed, “I would have been okay with that.”

  He gently stokes my cheek, “It was really late, Charlotte. I have to run, but I just wanted to give you this.” He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a business card, handing it to me.

  I examine the card, the name on it is Jackson Garrett. The man from the party last night.

  Was Nicholas actually serious about that?

  “You really don’t need to buy me a car. I have a car.”

  He dismisses my statement, “Yes, Charlotte, you do, but this car will be special. A custom classic car. You’ll love it.”

  I don’t care about cars.

  I smile, “Okay, but I don’t know anything about cars, so maybe you should handle this. I trust you.”

  He sits on the bed, “Charlotte, I would love to. But this is your present and I want it to be exactly what you want.”

  This is so strange. Nicholas is the type of man that loves to take charge of all of the details. He’s a perfectio
nist and usually has a very specific way that he wants things done. So I know in the back of my mind there must be another reason he wants me to take this over. “Okay.”

  “Besides, I don’t think I would have the time and I don’t want it put off.”

  There we go. He just simply doesn’t have the time to spend on this. He’s been so busy for the last few years, worrying about his political career. I can’t fault him for having high aspirations in this world, after all he had a career in politics when I first met him.

  He leans across me and kisses me on the cheek, “You are in very capable hands, I promise you. Just call their office today and ask for Jackson. Don’t let them pass you off to anyone else.”

  “Well what if Jackson is busy?”

  “He won’t be for you, my dear. We are very important clients to them, trust me. Just tell them your name and request Jackson.”

  I smile again. He really seems to be impressed with this Jackson. “Okay.”

  He stands up from the bed, “Okay, I have to get going.”

  I quickly leap up on my knees and try to give him my best pouty look, “Wait, do you really have to go so soon?”

  He walks closer to me, maybe I can convince him to stay for a bit, I’m not proud to admit this, but it’s been weeks since my own husband has touched me. “I have to get going, I have a breakfast meeting and then a lunch meeting and then I really need to go into the office.”

  Maybe one last try. I move my hand to the silk nightie I have on and slowly drop one of the straps, “You could be just a little late.”

  He gives me a warm smile and kisses my lips softly, but then just as quickly he pulls away, “That’s tempting sweetheart, but I have to go.”

  He moves to the doorway, “Perhaps you could call Karen and Gloria, I’ve said time and time again that they would be wonderful influences on you.”

  Karen and Gloria are in their forties and both married to my husband’s friends. I have nothing in common with either one of them and I know that they just see me as a silly, young woman.

  Sadly, they are the closest thing I have to friends here. I used to be a social butterfly, but when I moved to Kansas to be with Nicholas, I lost touch with most of my old friends and was only introduced to people through Nicholas.

  I sit back against the padded headboard of our king sized bed, the one he rarely sleeps in. “Yes, I might do that.”

  “Great, don’t wait up for me tonight, it will probably be another late one and please don’t forget to call, Jackson and get that project going.”

  Don’t whine. He hates that. “Of course.”

  I’m not even sure if he heard my response before he left our bedroom.

  I know, you already have me pegged. I’m a young, bored housewife, with way too much time and money, that married a wealthy politician solely for his money.

  Go ahead and judge me, I probably can’t change your mind, but the truth is, I love my husband, with all of my heart. I loved him from the day we met. I admire him.

  And yes, I am fairly young. I’m 27 and he’s 46, it’s a large age gap I know, but it doesn’t bother me. He’s an attractive man and I liked that he had worldly experience, he’s traveled all over and is so refined and elegant.

  My parents absolutely adore him and never had a problem with us dating and eventually getting married. Almost seven years ago.

  Where has the time gone?

  And at one time, Nicholas was unbelievably attentive to me, he brought me flowers home every week and there wasn’t a day we spent apart. Of course with his career advancing and especially with the election coming up this next year we spend more time apart than we do together.

  I stand up and stretch my body, before dressing in my jogging gear to go out for a run.

  The bitter, January cold burns the back of my throat and lungs, and I don’t even make it a mile. I swear, I’ve lived in Kansas for seven years and I still can’t get used to the cold weather.

  I was born and raised in Savannah, Georgia until I met Nicholas and moved here.

  I’m not a fan of the snow.

  When I return to our large, six-bedroom home in the center of Mission Hills, a very upscale neighborhood. I set the alarm and climb the staircase to hop into a warm shower, trying to get my body temperature back up to normal.

  In the shower I think about this morning and my pathetic attempt at seducing my own husband. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a sex fiend, but I do have a healthy appetite for sex. And lately that part of our marriage, like many others has been lacking. If we do make love it’s quick and methodical, just going through the motions.

  When I’m good and clean, I go about my usual routine. I fix my hair and make-up, making sure both are adequate, nothing too sexy. I smile at my reflection in the mirror, I learned to apply make-up and style my hair at a very young age.

  Another thing about me, I was in beauty pageants from the time I was baby.

  Shocking, I know. A southern beauty queen, kind of a requirement when you live down there and come from the type of family I do. My mother was crowned Ms. Georgia in 1971, my grandmother, who I’m actually named after was runner up in 1953 and she was robbed. Please never get her started on that.

  I hold several titles in Savannah, but never made it to the Ms. Georgia pageant itself, much to my mother’s disappointment.

  I slip into a silk pink blouse, a knee length black skirt and pair it with tasteful, high heels before retiring to the grand living room downstairs.

  I really don’t want to call Karen and Gloria today. I’m just not interested in their judgmental ways, always trying to improve me.

  I hold Jackson’s business card in one hand and my cell phone in the other.

  Jackson Garrett. Last night he looked like he would rather be anywhere else, than the black tie event we were at. He was dressed in a tuxedo that hugged his enormous body, like one false move and it would just pop right off of him.

  I’m a fairly tall woman, but he still somehow towered over me. My best guess is he’s around six foot six and seems to be all muscle. Not that I was focused on his physical appearance. That would be inappropriate.

  It’s just that he’s the type of man you notice, so large and tattooed he’s impossible to ignore. And okay, breathtakingly gorgeous. I still can’t believe that my husband seems to have clicked with him so well. Jackson seems like the type my husband would usually ignore or maybe even look down on.

  I dial the number into my phone and call the office number of Tricked.

  A woman answers, “Tricked, no matter what kind of car you are looking for we will find it. How may I help you?”

  “Good morning, may I please speak to Jackson Garrett?”

  “Who’s calling please?”

  “Charlotte Warner.”

  “One moment please.”

  I’m placed on hold and then I hear a gravely, gruff voice, “Mrs. Warner?”

  It is Jackson. “Hello, we met last night at the party. My husband suggested that I call you this morning to set up an appointment.”

  “Yeah, I remember. No problem, I’m pretty much on your time. So just let me know what works for you to talk about what you need.”

  “I uh, I’m not sure. I’m pretty open, I mean my schedule is.”

  “Okay, how about we meet for lunch.”

  Lunch with another man? “Um, lunch?”

  “Or coffee, whatever works for you, Mrs. Warner.”

  He seems to be all business. I could have sworn last night that I felt his eyes on me several times, but maybe I was just being paranoid. “Alright, coffee would be wonderful. When?”

  “How about thirty minutes, there is a coffee place in Fairway, I believe it’s close to your neighborhood.”

  He knows where I live? Of course he does, he delivered Nicholas’s car just last week. “That would be great. I will see you soon.”

  Since it’s so close to my home, I wait for a while and then grab my purse and keys to drive to the quaint little coffe
e shop. I park my car and walk inside.

  Instantly I see Jackson, who is sitting casually. He is dressed in ripped jeans, and a t-shirt with his company logo on it, that leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination. He’s wearing sleek, dark sunglasses, but even with them on I can feel that his eyes are on me.

  I may be in way over my head here.

  Chapter 4

  Jax

  Well hell, does she always have to look so fucking perfect?

  I notice Charlotte as soon as she walks into the damn door, everything in order. It’s cold and windy as hell outside today, but her hair looks untouched by the wind. The girl is even wearing high heels, there is snow on the ground for Christ’s sake.

  She does however still look slightly uncomfortable, like she is totally out of her comfort zone.

  This poor woman definitely doesn’t feel comfortable in her own skin.

  I lift the sunglasses off of my eyes and place them on top of my head.

  Yes, I’m hungover. After the bore fest finally ended last night I managed to make my way down to a bar shortly after the ball dropped on the television. I wound up back at my place with a sexy chick that was perfect for what I needed.

  A quick lay. No talking.

  And she didn’t even try to stay the night, not that I mind that sometimes, but last night I was looking for a one and done and she fit the bill perfectly.

  She did leave me her number and I may end up using it again. That is the perfect kind of girl for me and I have a few on standby for when I’m feeling lazy.

  Yeah, yeah. I’m an asshole. Blah, blah, blah. I’ve heard it all before, but trust me they are using me just as much as I’m using them. Men aren’t the only ones that like it quick and dirty occasionally.

  I lift my arm and gesture at Charlotte to join me. She is still standing there looking uncertain and lost. She obliges me finally and makes her way across the crowded coffee house. I stand to greet her and she holds out her right hand to shake mine, “Jackson, it’s nice to see you again. Thank you for meeting with me.”

  Always so polite. “No problem. What kind of coffee would you like? Please tell me you drink coffee.”

  Brooke and Alex don’t drink coffee, drives me fucking crazy. Who the hell doesn’t love coffee? Charlotte looks startled and looks up to the front where they take your coffee order, “Oh, yes I drink coffee. I apologize, I should have ordered first thing.”