So why the hell was he getting it from her?
“Do you honestly think there’s no connection between us?” she asked, steering the conversation in what had to be the only worse direction.
“Whatever is here will end when that storm does, and I’m fine with that.” And up went the wall.
She blinked.
He knew shit about women, but he knew hurt when he saw it.
And, too late, he recognized the lie he’d voiced. He wasn’t fine with ending this thing. And in the fucked up way of irony, that admission—the one that might occupy his head but would never leave his mouth—only reinforced that it had to end.
He didn’t have it in him to be hurt again.
He definitely didn’t have it in him to be the man she wanted.
Olivia swallowed, audibly. “Your sister,” she said. “Where is she now?”
He released a slow breath. Estelle was probably a safer topic, even if she shared Olivia’s belief in romance and happily ever afters. “She moved here to New York City after apartment-sitting for me and falling for the A/C repair guy.”
To Grady’s surprise, Olivia’s look was almost one of disdain. “You mean this place doesn’t have heat or air conditioning?”
Tension fled. His crappy apartment was suddenly a topic he could appreciate. “Oh, it’s got it. Just backwards. Heat in the summer, A/C in the winter.”
She blinked. “Um, no offense, but why don’t you move?”
“I was mostly kidding. And as I may have previously mentioned, I’m pretty laid back,” he said dryly. “The building is clean, and the neighborhood is great. Some of the neighbors leave a bit to be desired,” he said with a pointed look at the cat, who stared back. “But I’d miss that ugly-ass spawn over there, and Mrs. Harmon keeps me on my toes by swinging her purse at me every chance she gets.” He shrugged. “It’s not a bad place.”
“If you don’t mind taking the stairs,” she muttered.
“Good exercise,” he pointed out.
“Try it in my boots.”
“I don’t believe I will.”
She didn’t say anything for a moment, and he thought maybe he’d skated out of that conversation. Until she spoke again. “Who hurt you?”
He glanced at the window. Still snowing. Zero chance of avoiding this topic. Yep, here he was, sitting on his bed like he was at some kind of slumber party, realizing that whatever made her smell so good would cling to that sweatshirt. He’d be haunted by that, the same way he would be by that look in her eyes. Deflect, deflect, deflect. “I can only assume you’re not referring to when you knocked me in the head.”
“You assume correctly. You’ve failed to sell yourself as an asshole. I don’t buy that you have a cold, shriveled little heart. Granted, most guys don’t seem to favor romance, but they at least tolerate the concept.”
“The concept doesn’t need my tolerance. Or my approval.”
“I’m going away,” she said. “Soon. I told you I liked rough sex. You can tell me what your issue with romance is.”
So much for deflection. “I wasn’t dishonest with you before,” he said.
“There’s more to it than that,” she insisted.
He sighed. “I did the whole thing once. Actually, more than once. I’d bring flowers, and they weren’t good enough because I didn’t have them delivered. I’d make reservations at whatever restaurant was trending, but it was for the wrong time. Did you know getting past a months-long waitlist means nothing if you have reservations at six instead of eight?”
“You’re kidding me.”
“No, I’m not. I didn’t even get a thank-you for those reservations, and I had to pull strings that were barely mine to pull.” When Olivia gave him a questioning look, he added, “My sister’s husband’s family has been in business in this city for generations. They don’t flaunt it, but I’m pretty sure they have more high-profile connections here than the mayor.”
Olivia nodded. “So did you break up with her?”
“I should have,” he said. “But she was actually pretty great when she stopped worrying about what other people thought. Apparently when I didn’t outdo everyone in her social media feed, she took it as meaning I didn’t care enough. And of course I didn’t want her to think that, so I tried harder.”
Olivia’s eyes narrowed. “She was a real piece of work.”
“Maybe,” he said. “Actually, definitely. But I hadn’t yet figured that out. So I did the whole thing…something guaranteed to impress her and her whole damned friends list. Flower petals, champagne, whole thing set up at a hotel. I thought it was ridiculous then, too, but I guess you can say I was one of those guys who made an effort.”
“For the wrong person,” Olivia said under breath. Then, louder, “And?”
“I brought her in there, thinking I had some great surprise. And she burst into tears.”
“I don’t suppose they were happy tears?”
“No, they were I’ve been having an affair with my coworker tears. Then she left. The room was paid for, so I spent the night there alone and woke with rose petals stuck to my ass. And I drank the champagne myself. All of it.” He shot Olivia a sideways look. “Don’t ever ask me to drink champagne.”
“As per our agreement,” she said softly, “I don’t think I’ll have the chance.”
He took one of the last remaining scoops out of the bowl and passed her the rest. “What have you got against the morning after?”
“After I lost my job, my then-boyfriend assured me sex would make me feel better. I went along with it, then he dumped me.” She shrugged. “If he’s the one who pushed my program live, maybe the guilt got to him.”
“Immediately after sex?”
“The morning after. Still a jerk.”
“Then don’t make excuses for him.”
“It’s not for him,” she said, setting the bowl on the small table beside the bed. “It’s for me. I need to rationalize the fact that I completely missed that he could do something like that.”
“He’s an idiot.”
“So was she.” She offered a watery smile.
He leaned in and kissed her. Nothing devouring or indecent. Just…heartfelt. Then he did something stupid.
Something worse than sex.
He held her.
Chapter Nine
The next morning, Olivia eased out of bed and waved her hand in front of Grady’s face. He didn’t flinch, but she wasn’t surprised. After the snow cream, he’d pulled her into his arms, and that had turned into sex. An entire night of it.
She didn’t want to let him go.
Hell, she didn’t even want romance. Not if that was something he couldn’t deliver. She just wanted him, in whatever package he came.
But one thing bothered her.
She hadn’t made much of it at the time, but he seemed oddly uncomfortable when she talked about her job, or more specifically, her firing. Clearly, he knew Langdon & Walker, but how well? A suspicion had worked its way into her mind, and she couldn’t seem to shake it.
She glanced at him again. He hadn’t moved. Somewhat reassured he was actually asleep, she flipped open his laptop and keyed in the password he’d typed the day before, right in front of her. Maybe he hadn’t thought she was paying attention, or more likely he knew she’d be gone soon.
The light on his microwave was off, so she knew the power was still out. Her cell phone battery was low, she noted, but he’d mentioned the external battery pack on the shelf under the table, so she grabbed that and plugged it in, then activated her own mobile hotspot. It was too bad the thing didn’t give off actual heat. She was so cold, she had to tense her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering, but crawling back into bed wasn’t an option. Not until she’d eased her mind, or he caught her trying. She didn’t expect he’d welcome her back after the latter, but it wouldn’t matter one way or another. Wanting him made her want to run harder than anything. As soon as she could go, she was out of there.
In the me
antime, she’d settle for a little something less. Like his last name. She wanted to know who Grady was.
She shot another glance his way. He hadn’t moved. The cat, however, hopped on the sofa and situated himself precariously close to her arm. At the abbreviated distance, she could make out the flecks of dark and light in those yellow eyes. His plaintive expression now seemed more sad than evil.
She placed a tentative hand on his head, surprised to find it somewhat bony. “Mortimer, is it?” she asked.
He, of course, did not answer. She was about to withdraw her hand, relieved to have survived the encounter, when she realized he was purring. At least the noise was either a purr or a small cement mixer, and he was now head-butting her hand. She moved from his head to the spot under his chin most cats liked and was astounded when he leaned into her touch. She continued, gingerly avoiding contact with the crooked fangs and wondering how often the poor thing actually got any love.
One-handed now, the other occupied by the hairy enigma sharing her sofa cushion, she returned the majority of her attention to the computer.
Who are you, Grady?
She didn’t want to invade his privacy, at least not excessively, which left her with only one decent option. She went to his settings and checked the computer’s name. It would have been too easy for his full name to be listed there as the owner, and of course it wasn’t.
She tried to ease the machine to the coffee table, hopeful a new idea would hit her. The device nearly slipped, and when she made a grab for it, she accidentally hit another tab. It was his email. She moved the mouse over to switch the screen back, when one of the email subjects caught her eye. Grady Donovan, your next vacation awaits!
Spam, almost certainly, but that’s not what bothered her.
Grady Donovan.
Hacker and Star Wars freak.
Almost every hacker had a signature, and she had a sinking feeling she knew his.
Han Dono.
The name of the hacker who had shredded her program.
Betrayal smacked her with crushing force. Either this was the biggest coincidence in the history of coincidences, or Grady Dono was about to develop a permanent limp.
Chapter Ten
At first, Grady wasn’t sure what woke him. The uneasy feeling was not unlike opening his eyes to find that cat staring at him through the fire escape, so his sleep-muddled mind suggested Mortimer the hell beast was close. As such, he opened his eyes cautiously.
But there was no cat in sight.
Instead, Olivia sat facing him, like every bad guy in every movie who’d ever sat in a corner chair watching a future victim sleep. Her face was unnervingly calm.
He’d prefer the cat.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, not really wanting the answer. He had a feeling he knew. Fury like hers was hard to come by, but it wasn’t the anger he read into her expression that bothered him.
It was the hurt.
“Did you get me here on purpose, or is it just a coincidence?”
Not the question he’d expected. “What?”
“You found the holes in my program. You’re the reason I lost my job. Impressively cheesy plot twist,” she said. “Especially for a guy who isn’t a fan of romance movies. You didn’t expect me to stay. It was supposed to be sex. Why even get me here to begin with?”
“Wait.” He blinked the sleep from his eyes. “You think I purposefully found and lured you here?”
She glared. Actually, she hadn’t stopped, but this kicked it up a notch. “That’s a lot more believable than this being a coincidence,” she said.
Frankly, he agreed, but coincidence or not, it wasn’t the truth. “I knew you were in programming. In addition to the fact that you’re fucking hot, I pursued you because we had that much in common. Even for just sex, I didn’t want to end up with someone with whom I was completely incompatible.”
“So it’s a coincidence you chose me after getting me fired?”
“It’s a coincidence you were on the same app as me. Probably less so that you stood out because, as I mentioned, you’re fucking hot. I bet you had more offers than you can count, so if anyone singled anyone out, it was you. But, so we’re clear, you were at the top of my list based on looks alone, and when I found out you were into computers, I was done looking. You accepted, so here you are.”
“Sleeping with the guy who ruined my life. Unbelievable.”
“I think you can thank your ex for that,” he said dryly. And it sucked to say anything, because she wasn’t voicing a single thought he hadn’t already entertained. She just wasn’t chasing them with excuses and justifications. “I was doing my job,” he added. “Besides, why does it matter? This was one night. Two nights. Whatever. Either way, it was never going anywhere.”
That probably wasn’t the best thing to say, because she had stopped staring and was yanking on clothing left and right. When she tugged on the first boot, he frowned.
“Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“There’s a travel ban.”
She gave him a brief look that was so packed with hurt that the knot in his chest threatened to explode. “The sun is shining. Things are dripping. I will tunnel through the snow with a spoon if I have to. I’m not staying.”
He felt the mother of all headaches coming on. “You can’t possibly be serious. I wasn’t out to get you. I was doing my job.”
“Maybe then you were. But I saw your face when I told you where I worked, and you didn’t say a word.”
He didn’t tell her he’d already known. “What was I supposed to say?” he asked. “Oh coinky-dink! I bet I’m the one who found the holes in your program!”
She stopped what she was doing, and he realized she had been petting the cat. What the hell had happened while he was asleep? The entire world had shifted on an unsteady axis. “Never say coinky-dink,” she said. “Not ever.”
“I was being facetious.”
On went the other boot, then her coat. “Yeah, because that’s exactly the way to handle this. Screw me, fuck me, lie to me, then make a joke out of it.”
“Olivia, that is not what happened.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what happened.” She knelt to pet the cat, who now wound pitiably between her legs. Both woman and feline managed to give him a hard glare when she stood. “Look, it happened. Whatever. I wish you’d told me, but that wouldn’t have made this imprisonment thing any better, and like you said, we weren’t going anywhere. It’s not your fault I screwed up and trusted you. Good-bye, Grady.”
She went to the door, leaving him mostly speechless. It was a one-night stand gone awry. He didn’t want her there anyway, but his heart still skidded to a stop, and his breath caught when she hesitated at the door.
But she didn’t change her mind.
Instead, she backtracked into his kitchen, grabbed a spoon, and held it up like a goddamned middle finger.
Then she left without a word.
He sat there a long time, bewildered. He wanted her back. He was supposed to be glad she was gone, but instead, he felt this huge hole in his life. Two days ago, he hadn’t known she existed, and yet by leaving, she’d ripped away his equilibrium.
Mortimer yowled at the door, then gave Grady an accusing stare.
“I know, buddy,” Grady said. “I know.”
…
Olivia hadn’t quite needed the spoon. The travel ban was still in effect, but apparently not strictly enforced because she wasn’t the only one out there knee-deep in crusty, dirty, slushy snow. This time, she almost hoped to see her officer friend, but no dice. No anything. There weren’t any cars on the streets, save for the ones buried in dirty drifts.
She eyed her boots and thought about the twenty-block walk ahead of her.
It was worth it.
She couldn’t believe he’d lied, even if only by omission. He could have ended things as soon as he’d figured it out. He could have done a lot differently, but he’d let it go.
<
br /> He’d told her they didn’t matter, then he’d let her go.
But wasn’t that what she wanted?
She was so lost in that thought that she almost stepped in front of a city snow plow. In an uncharacteristically quiet hardscape, she had no idea how she’d missed the roar. Was she that distracted? She took a step away from the street, out of the way of the glaring driver, when a second thought hit her. Rather than giving him space, she ran to the plow’s door.
The move did nothing to lessen his glare.
She opened the door anyway, leaning in and digging into her purse.
“Beat it, lady,” the driver said.
“I have twenty-two dollars. It’s yours if you drive about a mile that way,” she said, pointing in the direction of her apartment.
The guy eyed her, then her money. “That ain’t my route.”
“Please?”
After a moment, he jerked his head to the side in a motion she assumed meant get in. So she did.
He stared at her until she remembered the cash in her hand and shoved it across the filthy seat at him, at which point he finally hit the gas.
She shot a look in the salt-stained side mirror, almost hopeful that Grady had decided to run after her to apologize.
But there was no grand gesture.
She was just sex.
And she was done.
Chapter Eleven
Two days passed, and Grady wasn’t having any luck getting over anything. The power had been restored but did little to make things normal again. Mortimer had gotten his fur in a knot shortly after Olivia left, first glaring at Grady, then yowling at the door. Grady assumed the little jerk wanted to go home, but he offered both the door and the window, and Mortimer stayed put. Finally, Grady gave up and turned on the TV, hoping he could make it loud enough to drown out the noise, but he only ended up with twice as much.
One Sexy Mistake (Chase Brothers) Page 7
