“It’s not a joke.” Andrew didn’t know where to start in processing the statement, let alone responding to it.
Lucas’s twisted expression morphed to a frown. “Then it’s a shitty truth. You should have kept your mouth shut, for once.” He pushed back from the table. “I’m waiting in the car.”
“Hey.” Kandace’s bark echoed off the walls, drawing stares.
“Don’t.” Andrew didn’t want to embarrass the kid worse if that was part of the issue.
She sank back into her seat. “I’m sorry.
“I shouldn’t have done it. You were right. Isn’t that fantastic to hear?” Andrew meant to keep his tone casual but didn’t succeed.
“Not really. Do you want to talk to him, or should I?”
He waved a waitress over, asked for the check, and handed her his card. “Give him some room to deal. I’ll come back down in a few days and spend some real time with him. Thanks for letting me try.”
“Talk to you soon.” She grabbed her purse and followed the path Lucas took out of the restaurant.
Andrew scrubbed his face and sighed. He’d disappointed his best friend. Most likely pissed off another person he was starting to think of as a good friend. His own son couldn’t stand him. If he were someone else, he’d let it send him into a spiral of frustration. Fortunately, he didn’t do that. He’d lose himself in work, and everything would be fine.
Chapter Seventeen
Andrew didn’t get as much work done over the weekend as he planned. Or any at all. He spent the rest of Saturday sleeping. Which meant that night he was up at odd hours. He became familiar with the Cinemax movies of the month and had confirmation that cable porn hadn’t changed in ten years.
Now he was back in the R&T offices, he hoped he could focus. A knock on the door drew his attention.
Mercy stood in the doorway. “I wanted to make sure you got what you needed from my staff last week.”
“And then some.” He could be all business. “I’ll be out of here by the end of the week. Probably working from Kandace’s. until I leave after Christmas.” If I can make things right with Lucas. “As always, you rocked it. It works great.”
She gave him a small smile and turned to leave. “Glad to hear it.”
“Hang on. How was the honeymoon?” Okay, so he couldn’t leave things tense between them.
She looked back at him. “Amazing.” Her smile turned genuine. She only glowed like that when she talked about Ian. She was lucky she had someone she loved so much, who felt the same about her. Susan deserved the same. Where the fuck did that come from?
“I’m glad,” he said.
“How was my sister?”
And there it was. Out in the open. A way to remind everyone he was the asshole who needed to keep his distance. He adopted his favorite leer. “Fantastic.”
“That’s not the way she tells it. She said you couldn’t get it up.”
He doubted Susan said anything anywhere near that callous, whether or not she told Mercy the truth. “You know how girls like to talk. It’s always the guy’s fault if she doesn’t get off. I wasn’t there for her. I wanted to blow my wad and move on.” He managed to say it all without flinching.
Mercy closed the door and took a seat across from him. “If you’re going to play the pig card, stick to pervy. You’ve never been selfish.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Why was it so important to him to keep up this façade?
“I know what happened. Susan told me. I want to know why you’re spinning it so hard, to make yourself sound like the asshole. If it’s about ego, you need to feed your bullshit to someone else.”
“Why does it matter to you what did or didn’t happen?”
“Really?” She looked at him, brow furrowed. “Because she’s my sister.”
“And I’m one of your closest friends. Why was it okay for you to slum it with me, but not for her?” Was that why he did this? Mercy’s request bothered him? No. He was talking circles around the issue. Pushing for the sake of argument.
“So this is an object lesson of some sort? You haven’t convinced me I was wrong to make the request.”
He leaned in, to rest his forearms on the desk. “But you don’t believe anything happened.”
“Susan tells me nothing did.”
“What if the roles were reversed, and she told you it was the best sex she ever had—or that it was so bad she never wanted it again—but I was the one insisting nothing happened? Then how would this conversation go down?”
Mercy looked away. “I’d believe you.”
“Why?”
“Susan’s not much of the sleeping around type.”
“She stuck her tongue down my throat and begged me to take her virginity.” His voice rose, and he swallowed to bring his frustration under control. “Your sister isn’t clueless.” But suddenly, he understood Susan’s argument on Friday night so much better. Mercy had gone out into the world, to live, but she was another voice keeping Susan from doing the same. And so was he. Fuck. Did that make him a hypocrite or a good guy? He didn’t know anymore.
“Why did you want me to think you slept with her?” Mercy asked.
That was the billion-dollar question. “I was exhausted. Strung out. Not like that,” he added when she raised her brows. “I figured you could put some distance between us.” And that was what it came down to. He didn’t know how many more times he could tell Susan no. The desire to turn her down wasn’t there. But he’d do it for Mercy. Would I really?
“How’s that working out for you?” Mercy’s expression was sympathetic rather than judgmental.
“You’re here instead of her. What do you think?”
She sighed. “I’m not trying to be overbearing or control her life. She’s an adult, as you’ve so aptly pointed out. She can make up her own mind. But if she’s a novelty to you… I don’t want to see her get hurt.”
“You got hurt.” He didn’t know why he was arguing. She’d made her point. He agreed. Except he didn’t. He agreed with Susan, and not only for his own selfish reasons.
“I did. And it sucked so hard.”
“But you lived. And you learned. And you grew. And you’re here to debate with me now. I realize some things hurt more than others. I don’t plan on being on that list. If you’re giving me this kind of grief, what have you said to your dad?” Whoa. Where did that come from?
Her wide eyes said she wondered the same thing. “Nothing? Off topic much?”
“Not if we’re talking about things that have the potential to wreck Susan’s day. She hasn’t told you.” He should have known she was keeping potential roadblocks to her future plans to herself.
“Told me what? She asked me a couple of questions about why I left, because you were running your mouth.”
“Because he’s going to kick her out if she pursues dancing.”
Mercy’s jaw dropped. “I— No. He’s learned.”
“You’d know better than me. Do you believe it?”
“God damn it.” She clenched her hand into a fist.
He was tired of arguing. “I meant it, when I said I’m not interested in corrupting her. She’s there on her own, but that’s a different story. I don’t want to see her hurt, and if this was a shitstorm for you when he kicked you out, how’s it going to be for her?”
“I’ll take care of things with Dad if it comes to that. Make sure she’s got a place to go. And I know everyone gets hurt, but some can be avoided, and that would be nice too.”
“And… you’re talking about me again.”
Mercy stood, her gaze never leaving his. “What was it you told me seven years ago? Monogamy is fine for romantics and sheep, but you’re never tying yourself to only one person?”
That was it exactly. Word for word, as far as he remembered. And she’d thrown back in his face the one reason he knew Susan deserved someone other than him.
“That’s what I thought. You and me? We’re good. But not if you
break Susan’s heart.”
The conversation wilted to nothing, and a moment later Mercy left.
He let the conversation rent space in his skull, as it argued both perspectives, and he dove back into work. Minutes ticked away into hours, and he found the brain power to accomplish a few tasks. When the phone on his desk rang, he stared at it in confusion. Wrong number? He didn’t know why anyone would call him here, rather than on his phone. “Hello?”
“Hey, Mister Andrew.” It was Susan.
Despite his internal prompting to remain distant, hearing her drew a grin. “Hey, yourself.”
“Did I offend you the other day?” Her cheerful tone cheered him across the lines.
“Not at all. It’s that…” He didn’t want to rehash the conversation he had with Mercy. Whatever the outcome, he’d lose. “It’s complicated.”
“It always is, with you. Promise to tell me the story next time I see you?”
This was where he needed to say, That’s done and over. You had your lessons. There’s no reason for us to see each other again. “Maybe not next time, but I promise.” Like that, days of agonizing and self-abuse evaporated.
“I’m holding you to it. I only have a few minutes, but I had to call and thank you, and ask how things went with Lucas.”
“Not well.” The answer slipped out before he could consider it. “He told me he was happier believing the lie.”
“I’m sorry.” Sympathy hung heavy in the simple statement.
He wasn’t used to this. Of course, any kind, socially-trained person was going to offer their condolences, but she sounded sincere. The way she always did.
He didn’t need to be distracted by how good a person Susan was. He also wasn’t interested in talking about the failed attempt to connect with his son. She’d said she called to thank him. “Thank me for what?”
“I thought a lot about what you said Friday night. About passion and pursuing what matters. I made a bunch of phone calls, and I’ve got an appointment lined up. I may be teaching dance at a studio down in the valley soon.”
His smile grew, and an unfamiliar bubble of warmth spread through him. “That’s fantastic.” What he wanted to say next was best of luck. What came out instead was, “We should celebrate.”
“It’s a little premature for that.” She laughed.
Fuck, he loved that sound. “This is a big deal, because it leads to more. I’m buying you lunch. Where can I meet you?” So much for keeping his distance. Though right now, that was the last thing he wanted to do.
“I can’t do lunch. My interview is in Salt Lake, and I won’t be back until this afternoon.”
“Dinner then. Pick you up at home at six?”
“I can’t wait.”
How did such a simple conversation make his day? He didn’t care to analyze it too far. The fact that it did was good enough for him.
* * * *
Susan whirled through the kitchen, pivoted, then leaped the distance to the cupboard for a glass. She’d fretted all weekend—far more than seemed reasonable—over whether or not to call Andrew. She was wounded he’d more or less turned her in to Mercy, but it meant she wasn’t stranded. Whatever dragged him away from the hotel so early, he still looked out for Susan.
She decided this morning she couldn’t be upset with Andrew unless she had a reason for his leaving. She wasn’t going to make another mistake, like throwing herself at him, but asking what was up and making polite conversation was okay. When he invited her to dinner, the giddy little girl inside resurfaced, and she forgot about getting answers.
The interview this afternoon went wonderfully. She observed a class, hit it off with the studio director, and was going back later in the week, to help teach a beginner group.
Dad was working late, so she didn’t have to answer any questions about her day. She had another interview tomorrow. She wasn’t too proud to admit she had a charmed life.
Someone rang the bell, and she skip-twirled to answer. She stumbled when she found Andrew on the other side of the door. “You’re early,” she said.
“I finished work, and this was the most important thing on my calendar, so I put off everything else.” And he had her flustered again. With a single statement. It had a little to do with the way the damp tips of his hair curled against his neck and the faintest hint of body wash that drifted from him.
She tugged him into the house. “Let me grab my purse, and we can go.”
“I’m not the only one who’s early.” He followed her.
Her bag sat on the bar separating the dining room from the kitchen, her phone next to it. She swiped the screen out of habit, and saw she had a new message from Ballet West Institute. Her heart dropped into her stomach, and she hesitated with her thumb over the Listen prompt.
“Who’s it from?” he asked.
“One of the studios I called over the weekend. It’ll wait.” She resisted the temptation, despite the pleading in her head to see what they wanted. To tell me no. She didn’t know that.
“We have time. It’ll kill you if you don’t hear it now.” He settled onto one of the stools next to the counter. “Besides, if you ignore it, you defeat the purpose of tonight.”
“I do?”
“If we’re celebrating that you’re doing this, you have to actually do it.”
She didn’t want to argue with that, and was pulling up the message the moment the words were out of his mouth.
“Susan, this is Grace, with Ballet West. I saw you reached out to our Park City academy, to discuss a teaching position. I definitely want to talk. I’m only here until six tonight, or you can call me in the morning.”
Susan didn’t know if she wanted to scream in excitement or cower from anxiety. She should probably get more information before she chose. The clock on her screen read five fifty-seven. She redialed the last incoming call, her pulse hammering in her ears with each ring.
“This is Grace.”
“This is Susan Rice, returning your call.” Stay cool. Stay calm. Resist the urge to react, because nothing has happened yet.
“Thank you for getting back to me. I heard you’re looking for an instructor position.”
Susan forced herself to breath, to keep the tremors from her voice. “That’s right.”
“I’m so glad you reached out. We’ve got a girl leaving on her Mormon mission next month. I haven’t opened the slot yet, but I’d love sit down with you and discuss it.” Grace laughed. “That’s a formality. I already know you’re talented, so as long as you’re good with the students, I want you on staff.”
Susan swallowed her squeal. “That sounds fantastic. When can we get together?”
They discussed details. Time. Place. If Susan had any salary requirements. The moment they disconnected, she dropped her phone and let out the happy cheer she’d been holding back.
“Good news?” Andrew looked amused.
“I guess so. Yes. I mean, not super amazing lead-in-the-Nutcracker huge. Or one of the fairies. But she wants me to teach. And it’s a prestigious school. And”—she threw her arms around his neck, needing an outlet for the energy coursing through her—“thank you.”
He squeezed her tight. “You don’t have the job yet, and you did the hard work.”
“But like you said this morning, it’s a next step. It’s progress.” She pulled back, voice hitching when she caught his gaze—dark, intense, and she swore, trying to peer into her soul.
“I said that?” His tone dropped an octave. He dragged his fingers from her cheek to the back of her head, and caught her hair in a tight grip, never looking away from her. “Fuck. I’m smart.”
“Brilliant.” She forced out the word.
When he crashed his mouth down on hers, her pulse threatened to tear from her veins. This wasn’t like the last two times. The way he smashed against her lips, nibbling then claiming… It was hungry. Unrestrained. Terrifying. And—holy hell—she wanted more.
Chapter Eighteen
Andrew pull
ed Susan between his legs, not easing up on the kiss. She molded her body to his, every inch of contact searing across his skin and burrowing deeper. He was fucking tired of fighting this attraction. He tugged her head back, to suck a line down to her collarbone. The way she shifted against him pressed buttons he didn’t know he had. How was this possible? This intoxicating woman made him feel like a teenage boy with out of control hormones. The only clear thought he had was about fucking her.
He traced his tongue up the side of her neck. She even tasted like cookies. When he pushed up the bottom of her shirt, she dug her fingers into his arms with a whimper. His dick begged to be free, straining against his jeans to be closer to the heat taunting him. He grabbed sufficient rational thought to look her in the eyes. Clear. Blue. Captivating…
“This doesn’t change anything between us. It doesn’t make us a couple. Nothing like that,” he said.
“I know.” She licked her lips, and he wanted to kiss away the shine. Suck on that almost-pout until she couldn’t think.
“Is someone going to walk in on us?”
“Do you care?”
Right now? He only cared about one thing. “I really don’t. You don’t need the grief, though.”
“No one will be home until late. No one’s walking in on us. Don’t you dare try to talk us out of this again. Please?”
This was all he needed to hear. Except maybe a little more of her begging. He dove back in without hesitation, scraping his teeth along her shoulder, then sucking on her neck. He glided a hand under her top and slid his palm up her bare stomach to her breast, to trail his thumb over her bra and the swollen nipple underneath. Each tiny gasp she let out stole more of his reason. He pinched the hard nub through fabric, and she squirmed against him.
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