by K. Bromberg
What’s up with the questions? “She was at The House until nine and then heading to dinner with Haddie. Why?”
“So you know her schedule then?”
“And your point is …?” He’s starting to irritate me with this cryptic bullshit.
“When’s her birthday?” He ignores my question by asking another, a regular fucking Socrates.
“September fifteenth.” Becks chuckles and I blow out an exhale at the condescending sound of it.
“Impressive.” He nods his head in approval. “Now I know you’ll know her bra size, but what about her shoe size?”
“What the fuck dude? What are you getting at?”
“Patience, young grasshopper. Bra and shoe size?”
“I’ll young grasshopper your ass if you don’t get to the fucking point.”
He leans forward and lifts a beer from the bucket toward me in offering. I nod my head and take it. Fuck it. I might as well answer him than deal with his crap. Besides, I’ve gotta admit I’m curious where he’s going with this. “Thirty Six D and size nine and half.”
“Nice,” Becks says, drawing it out in a sound of approval. “What are her parents’ names?”
“Daniels,” I grit out, patience lost amidst his amusing twenty questions.
“Last one, I promise.” He puts his hands up in surrender.
“Mr. and Mrs. Thomas.” Take that. I can be a smart ass just like you.
“Just answer.” He sighs in exasperation.
“If I answer, are you going to get to your point?” He nods his head, his grin spreading even wider as I tell him their names.
“Huh.”
“Huh?” After all the build up, that’s all he’s going to give me? I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees waiting for an answer.
He angles his head and looks me in the eyes for a beat. And despite the spinning in my head, curiosity is killing the cat. And of course cat leads me to thinking of pussy and pussy to Rylee. Fuck. I’m definitely drunk.
“Boyfriend,” he says, breaking through my thoughts, know-it-all grin spreading from ear to ear.
“Fuck off.” It’s the only comeback I have because he just baited the hook and I thought he was going to tell me something unexpected. What an ass. I throw the pillow beside me at him and flop back on the cushions.
He catches it and laughs loudly. “Those are things boyfriends know. Not fuck buddies, not random assholes—although, you qualify for the asshole part too—but boyfriends.”
“Isn’t it time you head back to your room? Isn’t your hand and some lotion waiting for you there?”
“Best offer I’ve had all night,” he says, pushing himself up off the couch, and I laugh when it takes him a moment to steady his feet. “I think I’ll try to enjoy it before I pass the fuck out …”
“You go do that,” I tell him, slipping my shoes off and turning my feet so I can lift them onto the couch and lie down. “Tell Rosy and Palmela to do you right,” I tease, making the jerking-off motion with my free hand.
“No worries, they never disappoint,” he says and so many comebacks flicker in my mind but are just beyond my drunken haze so I nod my head instead. “You just lie there and enjoy thinking about the sex you have regularly now with the woman you claim isn’t your girlfriend but who really is.” He opens the door. “Catch ya in the morning, boyfriend.”
Asshole is the word that comes to mind but all I say is, “Hmm …” as the door clicks shut and my eyelids begin to feel heavy. I start to doze, my mind on Rylee, wondering if the boys were good during her shift today. If she made it home okay afterwards. Shit! I’m thinking about stuff I normally don’t give a flying fuck about … stuff a boyfriend would think about.
There’s that fucking word again.
Thoughts come and go but they’re all focused on the one person I never expected to be thinking about. The damn voodoo she’s grabbed me by the balls with and is now somehow twisting around my hardened heart.
… If you were one of my boys and you wanted to tell me you loved me, or vice versa, you’d say ‘I race you, Rylee’…
The words flicker through my buzzed mind. I try to shake them, try to forget that look in her eyes when she made the statement. Try to focus on the incredible sex we had afterward.
But as I fall asleep on the couch in some overpriced hotel suite in Nashville, my mind should be focused on tomorrow’s negotiations and the upcoming season. I should be dreaming of great sex with a hot blonde.
But I’m not.
I’m thinking of roses and violets, of my girlfriend, and learning that maybe Spiderman and racing off the track just might have a thing or two in common.
“STELLA?” I CALL OUT FROM the door of my office. “Stella? What happened to my schedule for today?”
I lower my very tired and aching head into my hands and rest it there while I try to figure out how to juggle everything this week: budget projections, schedules, project meetings, along with the usual daily grind. And now I can only hope that the sudden four hour meeting blocked on my schedule for after lunch is just a computer glitch. Why didn’t Stella enter any details? I swear it wasn’t there thirty minutes ago. Maybe I’d looked at the wrong day.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath as I rub my temples to assuage the beginning of a headache. I hope it’s not one of Teddy’s endless brainstorming sessions. Our optimism had been tested earlier in the week when new budget projections showed us falling short of funding due to changes in California insurance laws. And since we’ve tapped every fundraising well dry, we’re crossing our fingers and hoping that Colton’s team pulls through with the needed sponsorships to keep everything on track. I look down at my schedule again, reining in my impatience at Stella’s lack of response, and remind myself of Haddie’s accusation when I’d snapped at her earlier this morning.
“Ooooh, someone’s having Colton withdrawals,” she chided as she added creamer to her coffee.
“Shut up,” I muttered, shoving my bagel in the toaster with more force than necessary.
“I guess it’s the toaster’s fault you’re pissy then.” I shot her a glare of death, but her only response was a smarmy smile. “Look, I get it. You’re so used to getting fucked into next week that when you’re stuck in this week you’re beyond sexually frustrated. You’ve gotten used to having incredible sex regularly, and now he’s been gone now for what? Nine days?”
“Eight,” I snapped.
“Yeah.” She laughed. “But it’s not like you’re counting right? And now Momma needs to get some to make her happy.” I stifled my smile then even though my back was to her. “Christ, Rylee, it’s nowhere near the real thing, but Skype the man and get yourself off if it’s going to stop you from being such a bitch!”
“Who says I haven’t,” I responded coyly, extremely happy that she didn’t see the blush creep over my cheeks as I remembered Colton’s and my chat last night. Oh the marvels of technology.
“Well hot damn!” She slapped the kitchen table. “At least someone’s getting some in this house this week.” She laughed. I caved and finally turned around, my laughter joining hers. She brought the cup to her lips again and looked at me while she blew the steaming coffee cooler. “I’m happy for you, Rylee. Really happy. The man looks at you as if you’re the only woman in the world.” When I snorted at her telling her she’s completely wrong, she just continued. “Colton’s put that spark back in your eye. Made you confident and sure of yourself again. He’s made you feel sexy too…don’t give me that look,” she told me when I narrowed my eyes at her. “I’ve seen the lingerie hanging to dry in your bathroom, sister, so don’t even try to deny it. I love it! So when does the handsome stud get back anyway?”
“Two more days,” I sighed.
“Thank God! Then you can stop being such a raving bitch!” she teased with a smile. “You’ve got it bad girl!”
“I know. I know.” I shot her a quick smile as I stuffed my lunch into my bag, knowing the following forty-eight hours were going to dra
g big time. “I gotta go before I’m late. Love ya – bye.”
“Love ya – bye.”
I take a deep breath as I shake myself from my reverie. Haddie’s right, I’ve got it bad. I turn in my chair and buzz Stella again.
“Yes?”
“There you are…hey what’s up with this meeting taking up my whole afternoon?” I try to keep the irritation out of my voice, but it’s hard. I’ve been working non-stop since Sunday and just want the afternoon to catch up.
“Um, I’m not sure.”
What? Who took my overly efficient assistant and hid her? “What do you mean you’re not sure?”
“Well…” I sense her discomfort even through her disembodied voice on the intercom. “I mean—”
“What’s it for?”
“Well someone from CDE called over and asked that I clear your schedule for a very important meeting about the sponsorship program. Teddy was right here when they called and okayed it. Said he’d tell you…and I’m guessing by the sound in your voice that he didn’t?”
My heart flutters at the mention of Colton’s company and then deflates knowing that he’s not going to be there. And then my mind starts turning and my heart accelerates because I have a feeling that this means I’m going to have to be one-on-one with Tawny and her team. Just the person I want to spend four hours confined in a room with.
“No, he didn’t. Are you fucking kidding me?” I say before I can catch myself.
“Nope.” She chuckles sympathetically, knowing I’ve been burning the candle at both ends. “I’m sorry. I know your day was packed, but I was able to move everything around. I left you a voicemail…I guess you didn’t get to that either, huh?”
“Haven’t even had a chance to listen to them since I first checked them this morning.”
“Well at least you might get to see that hot hunk of a man hmmm?”
I laugh overtly at her comment, knowing the rumors are swirling around the office about what Colton and I are or aren’t doing. I’ve yet to justify any of them except to say that we attended the gala together to promote the sponsorship despite what the caption in People said. I’m not sure if anyone believes me or not—and honestly I am way too busy to care—but I’m sure the water cooler has been a busy place as of late.
“Nah. When we spoke last week he mentioned that he’d be out of town for the week for some kind of promo junket,” I lie.
“Too bad,” she murmurs. “Looking at him during a four hour meeting would definitely put some pep in anybody’s step.” Her hearty laugh comes through the line, and I can hear it echo in stereo outside my office door.
“You’re incorrigible, Stella. What time do I have to be there?”
“They’re sending a car for you. It’ll be here in just under thirty minutes.”
Sending a car? Tawny probably wants to make sure I have no way to escape her evil plans for me. I snort a laugh at my thoughts and bring a hand up to cover my mouth to stifle it. “Okay, Stell…I don’t like it but I guess I have no choice, huh?”
“Nope,” she agrees before I disconnect the line.
“Fucking great!” I mutter aloud before reaching for a tootsie roll in the bowl on my desk. I think I’m going to need the whole lot of them to help me cope with the rest of my afternoon.
“We’re almost there,” Sammy says from the driver’s seat. “About ten more minutes.”
“Okay. Thanks, Sammy,” I murmur as I take in the beautiful interior of the G-class SUV. This must be yet another one of his collection of cars. I fight the smirk that wants to come. I don’t think it matters how many he has; Sex is definitely my favorite.
Sammy glances at me in the rearview mirror, and I smile at him. I was shocked when he was the one who came to pick me up. I told him so, expressing that I was surprised Colton had left him behind on his trip. I thought that they were inseparable. Sammy had just given me a non-committal shrug without saying a word. And now my overactive imagination starts to roam on the ride over, and I begin to worry about Colton. What if he needs help to keep some crazy, irrational fan away from him and Sammy’s not there to help protect him? I shake my head, telling myself I’m crazy. Colton admitted to me he was quick to throw down in his youth. I’m pretty sure he could hold his own if he needed to.
My phone beeps a text and I pull it out of my purse, a smile spreading on my face when I see it’s from Colton.
Beckett scolded me for not giving you romantic gestures. RME. He says I need to give you the flowers and poetry variety. Here’s the closest I get and the best we could come up with. Roses are red. Violets are blue. Sitting in Nashville. Thinking of you.
I laugh out loud at the image of Beckett and Colton sitting in Nashville and having a discussion about me. I can very clearly see Colton rolling his eyes at Beckett’s big brotherly recommendation of romantic gestures, all the while making up a nursery school rhyme to send to me instead. I quickly pull up the web on my phone and search for different versions of the preschool poem. After a few different links, I find the perfect one.
How sweet! And you said you didn’t do romance. Be still my beating heart. Those must be some really boring meetings. Now, I have one for you. Roses are red. Violets are blue. I’m using my hand, while thinking of you. Xx.
I smirk as I hit send, pleased with my witty response and wishing I could see his face as he reads it. We drive a couple more minutes when my phone chimes again.
FYI – Dick’s hard like a teenage boy. My turn—typing with one hand now: Roses are red. Lemons are sour. If you open your legs, I’ll be there in an hour.
I bite back the laugh that bubbles up in my throat, squeezing my knees together to stifle the ache our little text tête-à-tête has stirred up. I look up and meet Sammy’s eyes in the mirror, my cheeks blushing as if he knows what I’m reading, the dirty thoughts I’m thinking. I quickly avert my eyes and reply.
Quite the poet, Ace. Too bad you’re not here. The flight’s at least four hours. I don’t know if I can wait that long. Might just have to take care of myself. xx Gotta go. I need my hands for other things now.
I hit send as we pull into the parking lot of a large, nondescript, gray three-story building with a mirrored glass exterior. The building spans the better part of the block, and the only marker denoting its occupants are the letters “CD Enterprises” in electric blue at the top row of windows.
“Here we are,” Sammy murmurs, and my anxiety ratchets up at the thought of having to sit across from Tawny. I close my eyes momentarily and inhale a long breath while Sammy moves around to my side of the car to open my door. I need to keep my cool with Tawny because the last thing I need is to be known as Colton’s bitch of a girlfriend. Thank God I had my little texting distraction to ease the dread.
Within moments he’s taken me in a side entrance and leads me up the stairs to a waiting conference room. “Someone will be right with you,” he says as he walks out.
“Thank you, Sammy.”
“My pleasure, Ms. Thomas.”
I turn and appraise the conference room I’ve been ushered into. There is a long, typical looking conference table in the midst of the room with walls painted a warm coffee color, but the focal point of the room is the wall opposite the doorway. It’s a wall of tinted glass, and as I step closer to it, I realize that the opening looks down upon a massive garage of sorts. Around several race cars there is a flurry of activity with men moving here and there. Snap-on tool boxes in cobalt blue line one wall of the garage with a chair rail of sorts, made of stainless steel diamond plate across the midsection, with various posters and banners above it on the wall. I step closer, fascinated and feeling the energy from all of the activity below.
“Roses are red. Violets are blue.” The voice at my back startles me, but I whip around knowing that rasp anywhere. “It better be only my hands on you.”
“Colton!” His name comes out in a breathless rush of air and despite every nerve in my body tingling at his proximity, my feet remain cemented to the
floor. I swear my heart rate doubles at the sight of him, and although my intention is to remain cool and mask the excitement wreaking havoc on my system, I can’t help the wide grin that spreads over my lips.
“Surprise!” he exclaims, holding his arms out to the side. He steps into the room and shuts the door behind him.
It’s seeing him in the flesh that makes me realize how much I’ve missed him. How in such a short amount of time I’ve gotten used to him being a part of my day-to-day life. We both take a few steps toward each other, drinking the other in. The hungry look in his eyes steals my breath and hints at things that make my center ache with liquid heat.
My eyes move to that sensuous mouth of his. It’s quirked up at one corner, as if his thoughts aren’t exactly pure and innocent. And I hope they aren’t because then they’d be matching mine.
My body vibrates with his nearness, confirming that time has done nothing to dampen the instant pull he has on me. I surpassed stepping cautiously off of the edge of falling in love with him a long time ago and am now currently plunging headfirst.
Our eyes lock as we slowly close the distance between us, and I know it’s not possible, but in that instant I swear that I see a flash of my future in his eyes. The revelation unnerves me and releases the butterflies I have flitting around in my stomach.
We stop within a foot of each other, and I angle my head up so that my eyes can remain on his. “Hiya, Ace.” I smile at him, my pulse still jumping erratically.
“Hi,” he mouths, that shy smile tipping up the corners of his lips. We stare at each other for a beat, and before I can process the thought, Colton’s hands are fisted in my hair, yanking me forward, his lips claiming mine. He tastes of mint and urgency and everything Colton, and even though I’m drowning in him, I still can’t seem to get enough. His tongue licks in my mouth and teases by pulling back and then darting back in again.
His mouth captures my moan as he lowers his hand on my back and skirts under my sweater to draw his calloused fingers against my bare skin before pressing me into the hard length of his body. And just when the kiss starts to soften and become tender, Colton’s mouth dominates mine again, our hands becoming a series of touches and movements as if we can’t feel enough of each other.
