Return of the Jerk (Sweet Life in Seattle, Book 2)

by Simonne, Andrea

  He’s changed.

  Not in every way. His sense of humor hasn’t changed, and he still has a mischievous streak. In a lot of ways, he’s the same Road. Even-tempered—unless he’s really pushed—doesn’t judge, and rarely says anything bad about someone unless they deserve it.

  His world view has changed, though. It’s clear he sees the big picture now, and she wouldn’t have said that about him before. Not to mention his self-worth has grown by leaps and bounds. Road always had an ego, but it was more bluster before. The person he is now seems confident in a way that’s entirely new.

  “You’re different,” she tells him one night as they’re lying in bed together. The condo is quiet, since Fiona hasn’t started crying or talking on the phone yet. “It’s like you’ve learned who you are.”

  He doesn’t reply, though she can tell he’s listening as he caresses her back. This was another new thing—Road didn’t used to be such a good listener.

  “I understand why you started using your real name, instead of Road,” she tells him.

  “You do?”

  “It was a clean break for you, wasn’t it?”

  His hand on her back stills. The room is dark, but she can still make out his features, the way his eyes take her in. “Yeah, that’s right. When I left for India, I decided some things needed to change, and that became part of it.”

  “It’s a good, solid name.”

  “It is,” he agrees, still watching her.

  “Nathan,” she murmurs, enjoying the sound of it, letting it sink in.

  “Like the way you say it, babe.” He moves closer, pushing her onto her back. “Say it again,” he demands, his voice low and rough.

  Blair reaches out to touch his face. “Nathan . . .”

  And then there are no more words. Just his mouth on hers, his soft hair falling around her face as pleasure slices through her, sharp and poignant.

  Nathan.

  Later, she asks him why he decided to come back to Seattle. “You could live anywhere. Why here?”

  He shrugs. “Just needed to see if this is where I belong or if it isn’t.”

  Blair senses there’s more beneath those words, wonders if the Spanish girlfriend is involved somehow. She suspects he might still be in contact with her. The other day, he was on the phone, standing out on the balcony talking, and seemed both quiet and out of sorts afterward.

  “Plus, Fiona’s right.” Nathan lets out his breath. “As much as I hate to admit it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m stalled.”

  “With your book?”

  “Yeah. Don’t know how to end it.”

  Blair turns on her side in bed, facing him. “What are you going to do?”

  “Get it done somehow.”

  “I wonder why you’re struggling.”

  He sighs. “Wish I knew. Maybe it’s what Fiona said, how the expectation is high for this book, since my first one has been doing so well.”

  Blair nods, but doesn’t say anything more. Instead, they both listen as Fiona starts wailing from the other room. The bitchy ghost who haunts them every night.

  “Why do you think she stays here instead of a hotel?” Blair wonders aloud.

  “Suspect she’s lonely, that’s all I can figure. Don’t think she has a lot of true friends.”

  Blair is silent, and realizes Nathan is probably right.

  “It’s kind of you to keep letting her stay,” he continues. “I know she’s a handful.”

  “Maybe she really can help with your book. Though, it seems like she’s mostly on her phone or computer every day.”

  “She claims she already is helping.”

  “How?”

  He shrugs. “Don’t know.”

  Blair wonders if that’s true. Fiona claims she’s here to help, but all Blair can see is the disarray she creates. The living room is cluttered with all Fiona’s work stuff, while the kitchen is filled with empty take-out containers and coffee cups. After work, Blair usually finds her talking with a Bluetooth in her ear, pacing the living room, heels clicking on the hardwood. Nathan is holed up in his office, typing on the computer or talking on the phone, as well.

  It’s bizarre.

  How did my life get turned upside-down?

  She’s not sure how her peaceful sanctuary has become this chaotic mess. Fiona with her demanding and entitled ways. Blair is constantly on the verge of throwing her out, but worries if she does, things with Nathan might change. It’s gotten so Blair almost dreads coming home every day.

  But then there are nights.

  The incredible nights.

  God.

  Being in Nathan’s arms every night is beyond words. The pleasure surreal. It’s worth everything, even putting up with Fiona. And they’re not even having actual sex with each other, instead just doing what they have been. Using their hands, or he goes down on her. It turns out Nathan loves going downtown.

  And he’s crazy good at it.

  “You should write a book about your technique,” she jokes one night, trying to catch her breath after he brings her to a second shattering climax. Between his magic fingers and magic mouth, he’s nothing short of a maestro. “I’ll bet you’d make a million dollars.”

  He scoots up next to her on the bed, chuckling, enjoying her little joke. “At least I wouldn’t have to worry about writer’s block anymore.”

  “That’s for sure. See, I’m full of good ideas.”

  “Think I’ll call it Journey to Red Willow Valley.”

  She laughs. “I don’t know about that title.”

  “Course, I’ll need to spend a lot more time down in the valley,” he pauses and grins, “for research purposes.”

  As much as Blair enjoys him going down on her, she never reciprocates. She feels guilty and knows she’s being incredibly selfish, but something keeps holding her back, and she’s not even sure what it is.

  Nathan never asks her to, never says a word about it. He seems happy enough with her jerking him off or sometimes he just does it himself while he’s visiting the ‘valley.’ He probably thinks I don’t like giving blow jobs. Though, that isn’t it. If there’s anyone she’d be eager to give a blow job to it’s him, and she did go down on him years ago, but still doesn’t do it now.

  She looks forward to their conversations, too, as much as the physical intimacy, probably even more. Nathan is intelligent and thoughtful. After five years, it’s clear everything she ever loved about him has only crystallized into the man he is now.

  Talking together in her dark bedroom, she doesn’t feel the same shyness she once did. He seems to like talking to her, too, not just about himself, but asking questions about her life. He’s figured out Graham is only a friend, and instead seems curious about the guy she told him she’s in love with, the one who doesn’t love her back. To her amusement, Nathan continues to call him ‘dipshit.’

  “Why do you keep calling him that?” Blair finally asks one night, unable to stop her laughter.

  “Babe, if he can’t appreciate a woman like you then he is a dipshit.”

  Blair’s laughter stops at this, and her throat goes tight. She doesn’t know what to say, the reality of what she’s doing here breathtakingly real. The eventual agony waiting for her at the end of this journey. I’m the one walking the razor’s edge.

  “So, how long did you date the dipshit anyway?” Nathan wants to know.

  “A while.”

  “Do you still see him?”

  “Sometimes.”

  He’s quiet, mulling this over. “Are you still romantically involved?”

  “No.” We were never romantically involved, and still aren’t.

  “What about your test, does he pass that?”

  “The Bandito Test?”

  “Yeah, that one.”

  “No, he doesn’t pass.”

  He snorts softly. “Has any guy ever passed this test?”

  “Of course.”

  “And where is he now?�
�

  Blair thinks about some of the men she’s dated the past five years. There were a couple of guys she thought would pass. Of course, she wasn’t in love with either of them, despite their feelings for her.

  Nathan doesn’t wait for an answer and continues with his questions. “What does the dipshit do for a living?”

  “He owns his own business.”

  He nods. “Could see you with someone like that.”

  “He’s also an artist.”

  “Really?” This gives him pause, and she can tell he’s surprised. “Wouldn’t have pictured you going for an artist.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I don’t know. A classy babe like you? Seems like you’d be more into the business type.”

  “Some men are both.”

  Nathan is lying beside her and Blair reaches over and puts her hand on his chest, thrilled to touch his warm skin. Solid and real. This is no fantasy. And she loves to remind herself of it. She can just make out the Sanskrit above his heart, traces her fingers over it.

  “And besides, I’m here with you, aren’t I?” she says.

  “Yeah, but that’s different.”

  Blair doesn’t say anything to this, doesn’t bother asking why it’s different. She already knows why. He’s not in love with her.

  Her stomach sinks because that’s where the problem begins and ends. By night, Nathan is in her arms, the lover of her dreams, but by day, he treats her like a good friend. She doesn’t know what to do or how to change it.

  I’m like a beggar taking whatever scraps I can get.

  And it’s not like she can blame him, either. He’s never unkind. In fact, he’s generous in every way—not just in bed, but in other ways, too. He shops for groceries, fixes dinner, and tries to run interference between her and Fiona as much as he can. He lets her drive Isadora every day, while he takes the Honda. She knows the situation is not Nathan’s fault. The truth is she could kick him out anytime—Fiona, too—but she doesn’t. She doesn’t because then these amazing nights would go away.

  I walked into this with my eyes wide open.

  Ironically, Nathan also starts keeping the same schedule as her baker’s hours. He’s a morning person and decides the early hours suit him. As a result, they’re both up together at the crack of dawn, taking turns in the shower, until one morning, about a week and a half into their little adventure, Nathan suggests they take one together.

  “Come on, princess. It’ll save time.”

  “I guess.” She hesitates, knows she’s already in neck-deep with all this, so what’s one more layer of intimacy? She’s just not sure how much her heart can take.

  He comes over and stands in front of her, trails his fingers down her back. “You doing something private in there?”

  “And what if I am?”

  “Well, I need to know all about that.” He grins. “So I can help.”

  She groans to herself. He’s helped plenty. Nathan doesn’t know it, but he’s been helping her for years.

  “All right.”

  They shower together and Blair has to admit it’s fun soaping each other up, seeing his amazing body under some light for a change. She knows he goes to some guy gym downtown to lift weights and play basketball. Whatever he’s doing, I hope he doesn’t stop.

  “You never told me what the Sanskrit here means over your heart.” She runs the soap on his chest. “What does it say?”

  “Tell you later.”

  “Is it a secret?” she teases. “The name of some lover you inked on yourself in a moment of anguish?”

  His expression goes lazy. “Not at all. It’s no big deal.” She can see on his face he isn’t telling the truth, but decides not to push it. I probably don’t want to know anyway.

  Instead, she washes her hair while Nathan takes the soap and rubs it over her, paying special attention to her breasts, ass, and between her legs.

  “You know, there are other parts of my body, too.”

  “Don’t I know it. I’ll get to those soon enough.”

  After finally rinsing herself, he starts trying to soap her again. “Hey, stop it.” She laughs, swatting his hands away. “I’m clean.”

  Nathan grins. “Just trying to be helpful.”

  “Sure you are.”

  She closes her eyes and smiles to herself, rinsing the conditioner out of her hair. When she opens them, Nathan is studying her, but he’s not grinning anymore. There’s a serious expression on his handsome face, his green eyes intense.

  “What is it?” Blair asks. “What’s wrong?”

  He takes a deep breath and lets it out. “Nothing.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He shakes his head. “Just had a crazy thought, is all.”

  “What?”

  “Wondered how it would have been if things had turned out different for us years ago, you know? If they hadn’t gone south the way they did.”

  Blair blinks, tries to hide the impact of his words. A hammer to the chest.

  “You ever wonder about it?” he asks softly.

  “No,” she lies. “Never.”

  He nods, seems to accept this. “Yeah. Not good to dwell on the past anyway.”

  She swallows. “Best to let it go.”

  They finish their shower, both of them quiet. Blair wants to go back to their playful joking, but can’t find it within herself. Nathan doesn’t seem in a playful mood anymore, either.

  After getting dressed and disappearing into his office with a bowl of cereal, he finally emerges a short while later to tell her he’s taking the Honda to Brody’s today.

  “Is there something wrong with it?”

  He snorts. “That car runs like shit, needs a tune-up.”

  “I see.”

  “If I’m going to keep driving it around, might as well take care of it.”

  And then he’s out the door. Doesn’t kiss her goodbye—not that he ever has, despite their intimacy.

  He made me come three times last night, yet I’m still in the friend zone. Talk about crazy.

  Taking her iced coffee with her, Blair goes over to the living room with her daily list. Fiona is still asleep on the couch, her black eye mask covering her face. There’s writing on the mask Blair never noticed before, and she stops to read it. Written in fancy cursive, it says, ‘The Bitch is Sleeping.’

  Blair laughs to herself. Since Fiona’s been staying here, Blair usually hangs out in her bedroom during the mornings, but perversely decides to sit in her comfy living room chair and experience her normal routine for a change.

  Maybe I can pretend she isn’t here.

  After a few minutes, that proves difficult when Fiona pulls her mask up and glares at her. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m working on my daily list in my own living room.”

  Fiona lies back down, sighing with annoyance. “It’s bad enough I can’t sleep all night with the way you two carry on, but now you’re going to sit out here, too?”

  Blair stares at her in amazement. “You’re complaining about Nathan and me being noisy?”

  “I’m glad you worked out your marital issues, but my God, do you have to be so loud? It’s like listening to bad porn every night.”

  “You’re one to talk, with all your weeping and wailing!”

  Fiona sniffs and pulls her black mask back down. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

  “Of course you don’t.”

  It’s Monday, Blair’s day off, so she goes back to writing her list until Fiona flips her eye mask up again.

  “Could you just go?”

  Blair taps her pen against her notebook. “You do realize this is my home, right? And I’m not the servant here to clean up your messes or do your bidding.” She taps more rapidly. “In fact, I really wish you’d leave and go stay in a hotel.” And to think I actually felt sorry for Fiona.

  “What’s eating you this morning?” But then Fiona gives a wicked laugh. “Or maybe someone’s not eating you this morning, is
that it?” She laughs some more and lies back down, covering her eyes again.

  Blair pushes up from the chair, grabbing her iced coffee to take with her. She walks past Fiona then turns and, before she can stop herself, dumps the entire drink on Fiona’s breasts.

  “Aaaaah!”

  Blair smiles as Fiona screams, rips her eye mask off, and leaps out of bed.

  “Are you crazy?” Fiona shrieks, dancing around like an evil queen from a fairy tale as she tries to brush the freezing coffee off her silky black nightgown.

  “Oops,” Blair says with a smile. “Guess I spilled my coffee by accident.”

  “Accident!” Fiona screams. “That was no accident!”

  “Gosh.” Blair tilts her head to the side, amused to see a small ice cube stuck to the lace in front of Fiona’s nightgown. “I’m not usually so clumsy.”

  “You did that on purpose. Admit it!” Fiona glares at her.

  “Of course not. Why would I pour freezing coffee all over you?”

  “Aren’t you going to at least apologize?” Fiona demands.

  Blair smiles sweetly. “I’m really sorry about that.”

  Fiona continues with her glare, though for some reason, there’s the hint of a smile around her mouth. “Oh, God, don’t bother. I already know you’re not in the least bit sorry.”

  After the coffee incident, Blair goes into the bedroom to change clothes. Unfortunately, she spilled a little bit of it on her jeans, though they’re dark enough she doubts it’ll stain.

  Fiona is in the bathroom. Blair cleans up the coffee mess in the living room, pulling the sheets off the bed and hoping the couch’s mattress doesn’t stain.

  Even so, it was worth it.

  When Fiona emerges from the bathroom, she’s dressed more casually than Blair has ever seen her in ripped designer jeans and a faded black T-shirt Blair is certain cost a fortune.

  “I’m taking you out for coffee,” Fiona announces.

  “Pardon?”

  Fiona gives her a wicked smile. “Seeing as you accidentally spilled yours.”

  “Don’t bother.”

  “No, I insist. I’m going out with you. I want to,” Fiona pauses for dramatic effect, “apologize to you for my abhorrent behavior.”