by May Sage
“See if I care.”
‘You can’t! I’m on my periods.”
“Tough.”
If the feminine issues weren’t working, she was in deep, deep shit.
“Seriously, I’ll get pneumonia.”
“You have a great doctor.”
Oh, hell. The pool was in view – and definitely full.
Knowing that there was nothing she could do, except limiting the damage, now, she took her various phones out of her pockets and dropped them, before bracing herself.
Holy shitty hell, that was fucking cold. He’d thrown her right in, the asshole. She tried to get out, but Shane jumped in and before she’d reached the sides, he was catching her by the ankle and pulling her right back underwater.
Oh, there would be hell to pay for that.
It was common knowledge that she was just bugging them because she was younger and therefore, entitled to act like a brat to entertain herself if she damn well felt like it, but if they made the mistake of retaliating? That was declaring war. On a crazy hacker chick.
Her lips were blue and stiff as hell, and her teeth wouldn’t stop shattering, but she tried to speak until she managed to say:
“I hope you’ve written a fucking will, Shane Vaughan. You’re so dead.”
He came out smirking, not even shaking, and looking pretty damn sexy with the wet hair and all.
“Sure thing, darling. At least, I got to see you compete in a wet t-shirt contest before meeting my fate.”
Following his gaze to her tits, she felt heat rushing to her face. Fucking hell. Might as well have been naked. Her soaked beige t-shirt wasn’t hiding a thing, and underneath, she’d worn a lace bra – not exactly the kind of die-hard full cup that might have saved her dignity.
“You’re an asshole.”
“You like it in the asshole?”
Turned out, the asshole was pretty good at redeeming himself. She didn’t stop glaring, but it took some effort: between the blanket, the hot chocolate and the foot massage, staying mad wasn’t that easy.
“How come you have so many phones?” he asked, pointing at the six devices on the table.
She shrugged, but he wasn’t letting it go.
“I only have one number for you.”
“That’s because I only have one number.”
He frowned, moving to pick up one of her phones – the black one. She tapped his hand away.
“Behave. Those are computers.”
He opened his mouth, and closed it again. They definitely look like phones, to be fair; and not even the best of the ones out there.
She was going to have to face up, or he would bug her about it and touch them until he got some clue.
“I used to have five different computers – I could only carry three at a time, and that was pretty damn heavy, anyway. I just transferred everything on those computers to a very, very small system; look at the phones; do you recognize the make?” He shook his head; they were pretty basic, smaller than her iPhone, but unremarkable, otherwise. “That’s because it’s just a boring shell I’ve made. That one,” she pointed to the one with yellow tape at the back, “I use everyday. I just sync my laptop to it, and I work on anything from website to random internet stalking assignments.”
“You stalk people?”
Brooke had to roll her eyes at that.
“Some private investigators take pictures of people doing the nasty to prove a husband’s cheating; I just do it online.”
He launched into the expected remonstrance, telling her that it was illegal and blablabla. She tuned it out after a while.
“Do I want to know what the other phones are for?”
“No. You want to make me another hot chocolate.”
And strangely, he did. He also carried on bugging her about her systems, but his questions sounded more curious than forbidding, as though what she was up to genuinely interested him, so she opened up a little.
“So you never use that,” he said, pointing to the white one.
She nodded.
“Yep: backup only. Let’s say I get compromised, or my bag get stolen; white’s always with me. One code, and every other system gets flushed; all the data is transferred to this one. White is my baby.”
“What about Red?”
She had to laugh; he would love to know about that one.
Switching it on, she synced it with his TV, and a red screen with an evil laughing Chucky on the background appeared.
There only were a few folders, in there; she deleted the ones she didn’t need after using them. Right now, they listed every single member of the Barnes and the Vaughan family, as well as a handful of her friends, and the ex-boss she was going to have to deal with at some point.
She opened Shane’s folder, separated into two subgroups: files, and blackmail material.
“What the…”
There were a fair few embarrassing pictures in there, as well as videos – some, she’d gotten from bystanders who’d filmed his falls, his really bad hair days or any other ways he had made a fool of himself over the course of the last decade. Others came from security cameras.
“Shit. Mh… Brooke. We can put the whole pool thing behind us, can’t we, honey?”
“Not. A. Chance.”
She thought he’d taken the moments of silence to reflect on his impending doom, but when he spoke, it was to ask about the second file.
“Oh, that’s a backup of your computer. Don’t worry, I don’t actually look at it; but I do get a report when you manage to crash it,” she told him, rolling her eyes. That had happened often. “I just put your files back.”
He stared at her like she had grown a second head, which was surprising; Jack knew she did that on both of their computers. She’d assumed he’d told Shane.
“Fuck. I clearly remember losing a huge presentation for a potential client on our first property. I didn’t save anything, but when I managed to log back in, it was there. That was you.”
“2009?” She guessed. “Sure. So, see – you should be nice to the red phone. Red is good. Potentially embarrassing if I decide to release the blackmail material, but otherwise, pretty useful.”
Shane ignored her tirade, visibly lost in his thought. Soon enough, he was sharing them:
“Why do you do all that? I mean, I’m seriously thankful, but I don’t get it.”
Well, he wouldn’t, would he?
Truth was, she wasn’t babysitting him because of her crush on him; she’d started on her sixteen birthday, and he wasn’t the only one she monitored.
She was born in July, when everyone partied hard before returning to college.
That year, her birthday had fallen on a Saturday. She knew for a fact Shane and Jack had been invited to tons of parties, with cute girls and a lot of beer.
The systematic, consistent answer to any invitation they got by text or phone call, had been a simple: No. It’s BB’s birthday.
Yep, they’d tagged along to her silly, pink, sparkly sweet sixteen, although she’d celebrated it by going bungee jumping – something both of them, along with most of her friends, still hadn’t forgiven her for.
Brooke had thought back to three years prior, when she’d been sulky, shy, withdrawn and pretty friendless. Her brother had been there, then, and that was it.
That day, she had a dozen people around her, following her lead and taking the damn jump although they’d screamed all the way.
She’d felt like the luckiest girl in the entire world thanks to them all, and there had been no words to express her gratitude. Ensuring they never got hacked, scammed or let down by a computer seemed like a good start. She’d never stopped; it rarely took her more than an hour per month.
“You were a good friend,” she summed up, rather than getting into the whole pathetically mushy sentiment. “And that’s easy for me to do. As you see, you aren’t the only one on Red. Don’t feel too special.”
“We should pay you for that.”
“Right. A
nd I should pay you for renting out your carpet space, I guess?”
He’d offered an office, but she wasn’t a desk kinda gal if she could help it.
“Don’t be absurd,” he scowled.
“Right back at ya.”
Chapter Six
Shane
Over the last few years, Shane had had reasons to feel pretty guilty about avoiding Brooke. She’d always been dear to him, and not seeing her on her birthdays, or even her graduation, had really hurt.
He’d reasoned that he needed to get over his… interest in her, before resuming their previous relationship. He’d sent her giftcards with a lot of zeros to her favorite shops, but it hadn’t eased the sense of unease.
Right now, he felt like an asshole, point blank. He’d dumped one of his closest friends, and she’d carried on helping him out without expecting anything in exchange.
Truth was, Shane had noted he never had issues with computers; he guessed that it was because he had a pretty awesome computer… but that didn’t explain how stuff he hadn’t saved reappeared when he desperately looked for them, or how everything seemed in order after power cuts. She’d singlehandedly done a job he would have needed to hire a tech genius for, if she hadn’t been there in the background. And she didn’t even want to accept his money, which made him feel even shittier.
To be fair, it was probably because Brooke was loaded. Jack had been given a cool million – a tenth of his trust fund – after his graduation. He’d used it to fund VandB, but by the look of things, Brooke hadn’t dived into her egg nest, yet.
Still. He really needed to find something to do for her.
An idea crossed his mind, and any other time, he might have just ignored it, but considering the conversation they’d had the previous day, it was hard to resist.
Deciding to stop pussy footing and grow a pair of balls, he shifted on the sofa, where he’d been sitting with her feet on his lap.
“What are you doing?”
She was squirming, in the most flattering way as he towered over her, parting her legs with his torso; he dropped his lips on her knees, before glancing up.
“Thanking you. If you won’t let me pay you for your services, I’m going to have to settle my debt in a more creative fashion.”
On that note, he returned to her legs, kissing the inside on her thigh, going up each time he came up for air. She was panting by the time he made it to the rim of the boxers he’d lent her. Ignoring them altogether, he slowly lifted the t-shirt that was swallowing her, until he’d revealed those fucking glorious tits. Shit. They were heavy, and huge, so they bounced at the slightest excuse, but they were also firm. Cupping one breast reverently, he wrapped his lips around the other one and sucked.
“Oh fuck.”
She was so responsive, shivering under his touch.
“From the bottom of my heart,” he whispered, lifting his head to aim for the other nipple, “Thank you, Brooke Barnes.”
This time, he didn’t suck: he bit down, while pinching the other one. Briskly, his free hand dived inside the boxers and found her clit. She writhed and pleaded, but he was relentless, leaving her clit only to dip inside her and curve his fingers. Relinquishing her tits took some wherewithal, but he managed to, in order to finally take those damn soft, cherry scented lips under his.
Oh, fuck. That was so, so good. He was pretty sure he’d never tasted anything as sweet and perfect as that tongue against his.
At least, since the last time he’d kissed her.
She only had to say two words for him to rip every fabric separating them and dive into her; but she didn’t.
He was practically coming in his pants, like a damn kid, but he somehow found the strength to leave it at that, after she’d come on his fingers.
He’d made his point now; she knew what he had to offer… and the ball was in her court.
•
Brooke
Day two after the world had spun out of its axis, she wondered whether she’d imagined the whole thing. Shane was back to normal. Kinda.
“Here’s your coffee,” he said, passing her a warm cup.
He’d done that one thousand times before, without brushing her skin, but today, his hand lingered on her fingers for too long; it was definitely purposeful.
Brookes looked down, confused, wondering how such a minimal, simple contact could make her want to burn his clothes and jump his bones.
By the time she’d resolved to throw caution to the wind, Shane’s phone rang, and he walk away to answer it in his office.
Brooke forced her attention back on the website she was polishing; it was good – unique, easy to navigate and gorgeous – but she wanted it to exceed her client’s expectations; she really needed the referrals, and no one endorsed someone for giving a “good” service.
She was completely immersed in her job when Shane snuck up on her; one minute, she’d been by herself, the next, a hunk was towering over her, looking at her work behind her shoulders.
“You’re brilliant. You know, we could use a new website. Could you squeeze us in?”
“Sure,” she replied.
She’d seen their basic wordpress page and it had made her want to cry. Shane – or worse, yet: Jack – had probably done it himself in half an hour. While it had served the purpose at the beginning, seven years ago, they were in desperate need of a revamp.
She’d offered when they’d started up, but Jack had shrugged it off, and it hadn’t mattered at the time. She should have reiterated her proposal later on, when they’d become a serious business, but that might have been perceived as a desperate way to get Shane’s attention, so she’d left it alone.
“Great. I was thinking about something that showcase some of our best work, you know – a panorama of the renovation, some before and after shoots. I’ll write it all down, you can give us a quote after.”
That again. Was he serious?
“I’m not charging you, Shane.”
Unless he’d like to pay back her by offering a few extra orgasm. If he volunteered, she was writing down every work expense and out of hour work.
“Don’t be silly, BB. The kinda work you do is worth thousands.”
She shrugged; sure, it was, and she did charge thousands for it.
“Your point? I’m not charging my brother, or any childhood friend.”
“So, we’re friends, are we?”
That got her attention. Brooke stopped coding, glancing up towards him. He seemed annoyed, which kinda was hilarious.
“Well, I have seen most of my friends over the last three years, so I guess you’re right, we aren’t that friendly.”
Yes, she’d brought up that particular elephant sitting in the corner of the room; she couldn’t really believe her own nerves, and if Shane’s visible shock was any indication, he couldn’t, either.
He looked like he was tempted to start shouting, throttle her, devour her or all of the above, so it was a relief when his phone rang again.
His shoulders sagged and he sighed; a real, exhausted sigh, not the fake ones he reserved to her.
She only caught a few words before he was out of earshot, but they were enough for her to understand; there was only one person on this planet with whom he’d ever used that voice.
People have different intonation whether they speak to family, friends, work colleagues; and they generally have a voice for their lover, too.
Shane used the family voice with her and he had always reserved that soft, suave, understanding, adoring tone to one woman.
One woman whose ring he still wore.
After a full minute of numbness, Brooke mechanically packed her shit and high tailed it out of there.
•
Shane
Alice was going to drive him mad.
He loved both his sisters, of course, but he’d always preferred Alice; she was smarter, for one – and normally, there was less drama attached to her.
Key word: normally.
She’d just b
anked out of twenty-six years worth of drama and unleashed it on them – worse, yet. He couldn’t even tell her to get her shit together, because she wasn’t in a state to deal with the additional stress.
Normally, it wouldn’t have stopped him, but Alice was freaking pregnant.
Painstakingly, Shane tried to calm down and use his most patient, condescending tone – the one he switched to when he was talking to three-years-olds. Or his ex-wife, one of the two.
Eventually, Alice agreed to spend the night at a nice resort, and wait for him there; he’d drive her home. She stubborn idiot had had it in mind to drive all the way from LA – although she’d had fainting sprees by the bucket loads.
As soon as the conversation was finished, Shane ran out of his bedroom, irrevocably drawn to Brooke everytime something unpleasant occurred.
Three years ago
God, she was beautiful. Shane always noticed, but today, it was worse than usual; any given day, he’d think “yes, of course Brooke Barnes is stunning, however I am married, and she’s not interested.”
He was still married; but not for long. Not after the bomb Fiona had landed on him… And Brooke didn’t look not interested.
In fact, she ran out of the circle of friends with whom she’d been drinking her coffee, and landed straight into his arms.
“Shane! I didn’t know you were coming.”
If that was how she greeted him when he surprised her, he planned on doing it again.
And again.
“Last minute trip,” he replied – that wasn’t a lie, technically.
Ok, bullshit: it was a total lie per omission. He was letting her assume he was there for work; when in fact, he was there because everything in San Francisco made him feel foolish.
How had he let it come to this?
Truthfully, the more he thought about Fiona’s accusations, the guiltier he felt.
He had been a shit husband; he saw her ten minutes a day, max. Of late, he’d started to sleep at the office. He hadn’t fucked her in a while, either. Of course she’d go get her fix elsewhere…
