Fool’s Errand: Cartwright Brothers, Book 4

by Anderson, Lilliana

  “Help me by going away.” I turned back to the mirror. “Better yet, leave. And take your fucking game with you. I’m done.”

  “Sloane.”

  “I forfeit, Abbot,” I yelled. “You should be happy.”

  “Will you just talk to me?” He held his hands out, pleading.

  “This is bullshit. I said I’m out.”

  He didn’t move, just turned his head to the side and looked at me with those beautiful blue eyes that were breaking my fucking heart…because I wanted something I knew I couldn’t have. I wanted him. Not just this game. Every time I thought about him moving on to another woman, I felt crazy. I couldn’t do this and be OK walking away anymore. I needed to end it before I fell too far.

  “Go, Abbot. I’m out. I don’t care about the money anymore.”

  “Sloane.” His voice was even softer now. I wanted to punch him in that handsome face. Why won’t he leave?

  “Don’t believe me?” With fingers shaking with frustration, I unbuttoned my pants and pushed them to the floor.

  “Sloane.” This time my name was a warning.

  “I forfeit. You win.” With my eyes locked on his, I shoved my hand inside my panties, plunging my fingers inside my ridiculously wet pussy, my mouth falling open with a gasp because I’d been craving penetration since we started fooling around. I leaned back on the vanity, my fingers working in and out, in and out. “You win.”

  With his mouth set in a stern line, he shook his head from side to side, eyes dark as he twisted the fly of his jeans. “You seriously wanna play like this?”

  I moved my fingers defiantly.

  “Fine.” He pulled his cock out, holding it in his hand. “You wanna do this? Let’s do this. First person to come.” He’s making a competition out of masturbation?

  “Fine,” I ground out through my teeth, pausing long enough to push my panties to the floor and get more comfortable on the vanity, angling my hand so I could push deeper before I slid my fingers out and teased my clit. So angry yet so turned on. “Oh God.”

  Abbot’s breath came out in grunts as he leaned against the doorframe, his strong arm moving his hand up and down his shaft as his eyes stayed fixed on my fingers going in and out of my pussy. Watching him watch me was turning me on even more. We were out of control, out of our minds and playing games we couldn’t handle. “I’m close, Sloane,” he warned.

  No.

  I didn’t actually know what was at stake when one of us came. Did we lose the money? This argument? The forfeit? I had no real clue what happened, but I knew I needed to come first or my point wouldn’t be made and—

  Abbot groaned then shuddered, white fluid shooting out of the tip of his cock in spurts. Holy fuck. In my frenzy, it was enough to send me over the edge, my hips bucking as my clit pulsed against my finger, my free hand hit against the wall. “Ohhh.”

  The reality of our madness hit embarrassingly hard and fast. I froze, my fingers still pressing against my thrumming clit, my eyes downcast. I couldn’t look at him. He couldn’t look at me either. And with our chests heaving, we slowly released ourselves and stared at the semen in the centre of the tiled floor.

  “I win,” he announced, his voice flat.

  “This is so stupid,” I whispered, my eyes burning as I picked up my pants and pulled them on, needing to cover myself even though I didn’t have a scrap of dignity left. “What the fuck are we even doing?”

  Abbot tucked himself back inside his pants and blew a heavy blast of air from his lungs. “We need to talk.”

  “Not now, Abbot, I just need you to go. Please.” My eyes pleaded, my emotions too raw to deal with anything right now.

  He looked at the cum on the floor then back at me, unmoving.

  “Go.”

  Reluctantly, he backed out of the bathroom. I was quick to close the door and lean against it, the tension in my chest so tight that I wanted to scream it loose. Instead, I put my face in my hands and sobbed. It was possible that I had no money, no future, and no friends. Not bad for two weeks worth of work.

  What a fucking mess.

  And I wasn’t talking about the cum on my floor.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Mummy Issues

  “You’re not hearing what I’m saying, mate. She deserves better. So fuck right off and let her live her life. If I find out you’re sniffing around her again, I’ll remove the teeth from your mouth one by one.”

  The front door slammed just as I burst out of my bedroom, barely awake after falling asleep in an emotional heap.

  “Who the hell was that?” I demanded, pulling a hoodie over the singlet and leggings I’d changed into after my shower the night before. I’d exited the bathroom to find my flat empty. And while I’d told him to leave, finding Abbot gone had hurt far more than I cared to admit. Instead of facing why I felt that way, I dragged some clothes on my dejected body and curled into a ball, willing myself to sleep off my emotions. When I woke during the night, I found him right beside me, the big spoon to my little.

  He came back.

  I don’t know why…

  “Who do you think?” He stood with his hands on his hips, his eyes tired. We’d really messed things up between us last night. “He saw your van and couldn’t help himself. Fucking weasel.”

  I looked at the floor. “Mark isn’t a weasel. He’s a doctor.”

  “Big whoop.”

  I shook my head, moving past him to go out the door. If I was fast, I’d catch up to Mark and explain…I don’t know, exactly. But I needed to say something to him, even if it was just to get him to stop calling me.

  Abbot caught me by the arm. “If you chase after him, he’s got you, Sloane. He wins.”

  I pulled my arm free. “Not everything in this world is a competition, Abbot.”

  He grunted as I breezed past him then ran down the stairs, hitting the street just as Mark was getting into his Lexus.

  “Hey,” he said, standing with his arms on the top of door, the morning breeze blowing lightly against his dark blond hair. “You’ve been avoiding my calls.”

  “I have.” There was no point denying it. “I told you I was done.”

  “And now you have a guard dog to keep it that way.”

  “Well, if you took the hint instead of chasing me down…” I let the rest of the sentence go unsaid as I looked up to my unit where I could see Abbot watching us with a coffee and a disapproving glare. “I don’t really know what he is to me, if I’m honest.” He was the man I shared my bed with. The reason I smiled and laughed more in the last week and a half than I had in years. He was the reason I was opening my eyes to the world around me, and why I finally felt strong enough to let the ties of my past go. He was important to me.

  “Don’t think he likes me much,” Mark said, following my gaze.

  “That’s because he thinks you’re being dishonest and stringing me along.”

  “I get it. He’s willing to give you everything you want as long as you cut all your old ties and run away with him? There’s a name for those kind of men, Sloane.”

  “I have my own mind, Mark.” How dare he.

  “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  “You’re wrong. He doesn’t even want me like that.” And that was the clincher.

  You like her enough to marry for money?

  I have enough of my own.

  That moment with my mother was a moment of clarity.

  It wasn’t like I was expecting a proposal, but the blatant dismissal of anything going on between us had hurt. It opened my eyes. Wide open. I’d been convincing myself that I could play this game for fun without feeling. In truth, I was secretly falling for every smile, every wink, and every soft-spoken word. He was stealing my heart with his passionate kisses, chipping away at my soul with his tender touch. And I was letting him. Lying to myself and falling, tumbling. Blundering.

  “He doesn’t want you, but he’s chasing your friends away? Yeah, there’s a name for that too—narcissist.”

&n
bsp; “Don’t do that, Mark. He’s honest. Something you should have been from the start.” Abbot had always been straight with me. I gave him a huge amount of credit for that. I’d known where I stood from day one, but still…

  Falling, tumbling. Blundering.

  “He’s obviously protective of you, whatever he is.” Mark pressed his lips together and studied my face, his head tilting a little to the side. “You seem different.”

  “Maybe I’ve always been this way. Maybe you just didn’t notice.”

  “You’re throwing our friendship away, Sloane.”

  “That’s because I don’t need it anymore.”

  “Because of him?” He pointed up to Abbot. “What about me? Who am I without you?”

  “You’re Terry’s husband. Kate’s father. A well-respected trauma surgeon. A triathlete. A friend to more than just me.”

  He blew air out of his nose, a laugh, but not quite a laugh. “See. You know me so well. I’m struggling to believe that you really want to throw over twenty years away because some oaf told you to.”

  “He’s not an oaf,” I said, looking back up to Abbot who was still watching over us like a gargoyle. “He’s…fearless and badarse. Everything I think I forgot how to be.”

  “Why do you want to be fearless and badarse? You’re fine as you are—independent and capable. Come and have coffee with me. Talk this through.”

  I shook my head, still looking up. “No. I won’t be changing my mind because it’s time for me to move on, start a life that’s all my own. I feel like I’ve been living in the remnants of everyone else’s, and I need to be selfish for once. Think of myself.”

  He looked at me for a long moment, seeming to want to say something but changing his mind. A common occurrence with Mark. He never had a lot of fight in him when it came down to the actual confrontation. Not like Abbot who was nothing but fight. Fearless. Badarse.

  Abbot.

  “Well, call if you need me. I’m always here.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

  Then he nodded and got back into his car, leaving me to wonder why he even came. He didn’t really want me. Seemed he was just comfortable in that habit of us. Something I had been guilty of too. But it was time for change.

  “So that’s it? You two buddies again now?” Abbot pounced on me the minute I returned upstairs.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. I meant what I said about selling up and starting again. I won’t have as much capital to start fresh now, but it’ll be OK. I’ll just downsize, make it work.”

  He looked at me like I was speaking Dutch. “I won the forfeit, Sloane. The five hundred K is yours once the safe is open. You should be happy.” That last sentence sounded a little condescending to my ears.

  I narrowed my eyes. “No. I quit first.”

  “I came first.” Excuse me?

  My head drew back, confused, frustrated as I studied his stern expression glaring back at me.

  We were competing to be the one to throw in the towel? I didn’t know how to feel about that. Was this his pity? He was being charitable? Quitting on his own terms? Fuck that. Obviously he thought he had to pay to get rid of me, and quickly.

  “You won the forfeit?” I checked, saying each word carefully.

  “And now you have your fucking money so you can go away and live your dream life.” He didn’t look away, or flinch when he said it. He was actually paying to be rid of me.

  It made sense. He’d found out I was completely broke, and knowing I needed a husband to collect the money from Pop would make any commitment phobe run a mile. Forfeiting that money was his way of making sure I didn’t need to return to Torquay for the sake of a job.

  You can go away and live your dream life.

  I folded my arms across my chest. “Then I guess all that’s left is to get that safe open so we can be done with this,” I said, grabbing my bag from where I’d dumped it the night before. “And each other.”

  He followed me without a word. I wanted to cry.

  * * *

  With my headphones in and old-school RHCP blasting in my ears, I worked through the shrinking list of combinations. One after another, I crossed each failed one off and moved to the next. The faster I’m done, the faster I’m home.

  In my periphery, Abbot was pacing back and forth, bouncing a tennis ball against the wall and generally being distracting. I really wanted him to go wait outside or something so I could work in peace. Especially since after almost three hours cooped up in the van with him, we could barely speak to each other without getting snappy.

  Despite what anyone says, men and women can’t be friends without sex coming into it. It’s basic biology. And once you do have sex, the friendship isn’t the same anymore. You become something other than what you were.

  Abbot and I didn’t even have to have sex for things to get messed up. I wished we could rewind the last twenty-four hours and go back to playing for third base. Better still, go back to the day in my flat and never agree to the bet in the first place. But nothing could erase what had passed between us, the nightmare of my mother, and the embarrassment of my reaction last night. I just needed to be done.

  Bounce, bounce, ba-bounce.

  I tugged an earbud from my ear, the lyrics from Higher Ground spilling into the room. “Would you quit it?” I bit. “Go and pace in the hall or something if you can’t sit still.”

  Catching the ball in one hand, he looked at me and stilled.

  “Thank you,” I said, sliding the earbud back in and spinning the dial to reset, starting again. 52. 159. 33. 445. I tried the handle. No go.

  Cross that combination off the list.

  Just as I struck my pencil across the numbers, my earbud fell from my ear, tugged out by a pissed-looking Abbot. “This is fucking ridiculous.”

  With a sigh, I put the bud back in my ear.

  He tugged it out again. “Would you just talk to me a second?”

  “What’s to talk about?” I started dialling again. 56 right…

  “The fact you cracked it after your mum’s, had a masturbation fight with me and have barely spoken to me since.”

  “There’s nothing to discuss and I’m busy.” 160 left…

  “You can dial and talk, Sloane. The game is over now, so this is just us. What the fuck is going on with you? Are you pissed about the money? Are you pissed at your mother? Or are you pissed at me?”

  “Why would I be pissed at you, Abbot?” My voice came out flat as I dialled the next two numbers.

  “You are pissed at me.” He narrowed his eyes, like he could see what my problem was if he studied my expression close enough.

  Rolling my eyes, I gripped the handle. “Drop it, buddy. I’m a big girl who will get over it.”

  “Buddy,” he repeated. “You’re being passive-aggressive, Sloane. Speak your mind like the big girl you claim to be.”

  Releasing the handle, I turned in my seat so I was facing him properly. “I’m embarrassed. Over the way I reacted after seeing my mother and what we did in my bathroom afterwards. I’m pissed that after everything I told you about her, you just sat there and let her touch you, flirt with you, right in front of me. Like, if I wasn’t there you’d be fucking her against the wall.”

  He opened his mouth to speak, but I jumped in before he had a chance. “Don’t, Abbot. I don’t want reasons or excuses. This has all happened before. She swoops in, fucks up my life, fucks my boyfriend, then leaves. It’s really fun. I’m sorry we couldn’t stay longer so you could get the full experience,” I shouted, irrationally, angrily…pathetically. I could hear myself going on, and I wanted to stop it, but it all came spilling out. “You should have told her you were with me, Abbot. You didn’t have to profess your undying love or anything like that, but at least”—frowning, I shook my head and grabbed the handle—“at least pretend you’re more interested in me than you are in her. Just once, I need someone to do that. That’s what a real friend would do.” I turned the hand
le, expecting a solid reaction like every other time, but instead, it shifted with a click.

  I did it.

  Holy fuck.

  “I did it,” I whispered. “I fucking did it.”

  Pulling the door open, I gasped at the sight of the stacks of money inside. I had no idea how much was there, but it had to be millions. Millions. Where did they even get this?

  I looked up at Abbot who didn’t seem anywhere near as excited as he should. And I understood that my jealous-girlfriend tirade had completely freaked him out. OK. Great. Honestly, it had freaked me out too. I didn’t want to be this girl.

  And now I can go home.

  “How about we just ignore everything that happened and call it a day?” I said, trying to salvage some dignity. “You can pay me the original two-fifty and we’ll forget all about the game and my mother and whatever we were supposed to be to each other.” I smiled and touched my hand to my head, trying not to cry. “I obviously got a little too involved here and…I think it’s best if I just go and we don’t see each other again. I mean, if it’s urgent and you haven’t found a new locksmith, I’ll help. But we can’t…I can’t…friends with benefits really won’t work because—”

  “Shut up, Sloane.”

  “—I feel too much towards you, Abbot and I know you don’t feel anything for—”

  “Shut the fuck up and let me speak,” he boomed, shoving the safe door shut with a loud bang.

  My eyes stung with tears as I jumped in my seat.

  “My God, you just keep banging on and spouting shit and you haven’t once given me the chance to speak or explain my side.” He blinked rapidly. “Did you ever consider how I feel?” A tear slid from his eye and he frowned. Oh God. Abbot’s emotional?

  I felt awful for reducing this strong man to tears and stood, my hands up in apology. “Abbot—”

  “I wasn’t flirting with her. She touched me, and I gave zero response. And if you had let me fucking speak to you without fighting me at any point in the last twenty-four hours, I would have told you what I wanted…” He paused and frowned, lifting his hand to touch his cheek. “Why am I fucking crying?”