Scott peered up at him, eyes narrow. “Thanks for your sympathy. Maybe next time someone smashes your dreams against the rocks I can return the favor. Oh, wait. You don't dream big. You just capitalize on other people's ideas.”
Standing, Zach took a step toward the door. Something in the back of his mind told him not to rise to the taunt, but holding back was getting old. It wasn't supposed to be like this. They weren’t supposed to fight, they were supposed to collaborate. “Tell you what. How about I come back when you're ready to deal with reality?”
Scott slammed his fist against his desk. A loose pen jumped and fell, clattering against his plastic chair mat. “How about you come back when you've bought your soul back from the highest bidder?”
Nails digging into his palms, Zach pushed the office door open. He bit back the “fuck you” sitting on the tip of his tongue. “Yeah. That sounds like a good idea.”
****
Rae tried to make out the clang of her swizzle stick against her glass amid the chatter in the bar. She stared at the milky brown swirling around ice. What was she doing there?
Someone slid into the seat next to her. The smell of cologne mixed with the alcohol on his breath was so strong she almost gagged. He loosened his tie and undid the top button on his shirt.
Rae looked him over, trying to decide if he was cute. It was hard to tell. He looked like every other twenty-something in the bar: trying too hard to prove he was someone.
She turned away when he looked in her direction.
He leaned closer, his breathy question making her eyes water. “Hey, beautiful. Is it true chubby girls try harder in bed?”
She tugged down the edge of her shirt and moved to a different stool, not bothering to answer. It had taken a long time to get over the image issues she’d had when she was a teenager, but for the most part she recognized her curves weren’t the same as being overweight. That didn’t mean any comments to the contrary hurt any less, though.
A series of basketball games blared in the background, overlapping each other and clashing with the chatter. A voice whispered in the back of her head if she wanted to take her mind off Zach, a sports bar filled with young businessmen just like him, but slimier, was probably not the way to do it.
She’d had the same thought two hours earlier, but had hoped the alcohol would make it better. Now she was just drunk enough to realize she wasn’t in the mood for a cheap stand-in.
“What's your poison, hot stuff?” The stranger’s alcohol-laden breath brushed her ear, and he wrapped an arm around her waist.
A chill crawled under her skin. She jerked away from the grabby douche. “Nothing you can afford.”
His eyes narrowed. “Like you’re going to find better offer.”
“She said she’s not interested.” A hand rested at the small of her back, and Zach’s familiar voice erased the cold roaring through her.
What was he doing there? And what would it take to keep his hand there a little longer?
Drunk douche’s eyes narrowed as he looked Zach over. “Not in you.”
“Maybe not.” Zach’s arm brushed her spine. “But at least I can take no for an answer.”
Rae watched the scene unfold, horror tingeing her fascination. Her stomach winced in protest, or maybe that was the three white Russians reminding her she hadn’t eaten that night.
“Slut.” Drunken douche turned away, stumbling when he ran into the bar stool.
Zach stepped after him, hands clenched into fists.
It was tempting to let him go after the drunk douche, but Rae forced herself to put a restraining hand on his arm. She wasn’t some princess who needed a knight in shining armor, but knowing that didn’t stop the unexpected rescue from warming her. “He’s not worth it.”
He snarled and spun back to face her. His expression softened. He slid into the stool next to her. “At least let me pick up your tab.”
He was being so sweet. She wanted his hand on her back again. To lean against his shoulder, to forget putting him behind her was part of the reason she’d been drinking.
She shook her head, stopping when the room tilted at strange angles. “Already covered, but thank you.”
He slid her drink away from her. “You look wobbly.”
“Only a little.” She wanted him closer again so she could lean on him. No, she didn’t. She was fine. “Maybe it’s time to call it a night.”
She hopped off the stool. Her heel hooked on a rung and she stumbled, destroying her attempt at a cool getaway.
Zach caught her, one hand on her shoulder and the other on her hip to help her stand again.
A whisper of his cologne washed over her and she swallowed. Damn it, she didn't need him there. She hurried to right herself, almost falling backward again in the process.
He studied her for a minute, concern heavy in his eyes. “You're calling a cab, right?”
“No.” She wasn't that drunk. “I need my car for work.”
He rested an arm on her elbow. When she wobbled again he grabbed her car keys and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Can I give you a ride home, m'lady?”
That felt good. Her entire body tilted toward the contact. She frowned and straightened up. How had she gotten jostled into this? “I'm fine, thanks.” She reached for her keys, stumbling when he yanked them out of reach.
“Yeah, you're not. You don’t have to leave with me, but you’re not driving.”
She wanted to protest again, but being so close to him made it hard to think. Damn it, this was bad. She put some space between them. “Fine. Whatever.” She winced at his wounded look. “Sorry. A ride home would be nice.”
They made their way to the parking lot. She scanned the rows of cars. “What about your car?”
“Since you need yours, I’ll come back for mine.” He steered her toward her familiar red hatchback. “I still have full control of my sensibilities.” He unlocked her door and held her arm until she was seated.
It didn't escape her he took the opportunity to watch her skirt ride up. Good. At least she wasn’t the only one this was affecting. She took her time smoothing it out again.
An awkward silence descended between them as he pulled onto the road. A string of questions spilled through her head, some ice-breakers, others flirty, and others self-righteous indignation. She couldn't focus enough to figure out which direction she wanted to go. One slipped out without permission. “So is the ride home a clever excuse to try and get me in bed again?”
His eyes narrowed. “This is the one and only I’ll ever say this. Never, not before, not now, not in the future, will we do anything while you’re under the influence.”
And the niceties were gone, and he was throwing their past back in her face. “Nice. Bring that up again. What happened to having closure? I thought we’d moved on.”
He glanced at her, eyebrow raised, before turning back to the road. “Right. The past is in the past.”
“You're lying.” So much for being flirty or diplomatic. She wondered if she could staple her lips shut when he was around. What was wrong with her? He’d rescued her and she was insulting him in return.
He sighed and fished a pack of smokes from his shirt pocket. He stuck one to his lips and then thought better of it.
“You can smoke in the car, I don't care.”
“You sure?”
“You wouldn't be the first.” She didn't know why he was so surprised. “Besides, you're doing me a favor.”
“Why do you do that?” He rolled the window down before lighting up.
“Do…?” She puzzled over his answer.
“Run hot and cold?”
Rae stared at him, surprised by the question and the vehemence behind it. “Uh...I'm not? I don't.”
“You know what? I am lying. There are still things about your behavior back then that gnaw at me. Like all of it.”
Rae's buzz was vanishing, leaving nausea in its place. Of course he was going to bring that up. It made her uncomfortable even t
hinking about the screaming fit she’d thrown on the docks. That day ten years ago when she’d told him off and gotten herself stuck in the middle of nowhere as a result. The way she’d been so thrown out of whack by diet and sleeping pills she couldn’t think straight.
Then again, she hadn’t been the only one at fault, and the lessons his callous brush-off had taught her were still a part of everything she did. “Like you’ve never been stoned before.”
He exhaled, smoke drifting out the window and vanishing in to the night. “In case you missed it that was your chance to apologize.”
She crossed her arms and flopped back against her seat, wincing when her skull bounced off the headrest. “I'm not that person anymore.”
“Gee, Zach,” he said in a squeaky falsetto. “I'm sorry about what happened all those years ago. I mean, I know you told me exactly what I needed to do to make amends, but I'm a little dim sometimes. Forgive me?”
She glared at him. She hadn't wanted this to turn ugly, but her ego was too wounded to back down. “You don't want an apology. You want to crucify me so…I actually don’t even know why.”
“If I succeed, that makes you a martyr, right? Why did you have to pick now to be back in my life?”
She stared at him, disbelief throbbing in her temples. “You want me to leave and come back in a few months? Because now someone’s going to stand in your way when you crush Scott’s dreams?”
He flicked his half-finished smoke out the window. “Excuse me?”
“He’s doing everything he can to keep his company together, and you’re just rolling over at every opportunity.” She’d crossed the line from personal to cruel and turned the conversation away from what they were really talking about, but she couldn’t take it back. His brush off hurt more than she wanted to recognize and she needed a change of subject to take herself out of the equation.
Zach slammed his fist into the steering wheel. “Do you not understand the concept of hostile takeover? I didn’t ask for any of this. I didn’t plan for the woman I thought I was going to marry to dump me in front of the entire internet. I didn’t want one of our biggest competitors to swoop in and steal our livelihood out from under us. “
“And now that it’s happened you just give up?” The alcoholic buzz was gone now. Righteous indignation on Scott’s behalf had taken its place. This was why she didn’t want to get involved with Zach, or any other asshole who thought he could rule the world with the right smile. She clung to the reminder.
He shot a glare at her, anger flashing in his steel eyes, before turning his attention back to the road. “I’m not 'giving up'. We can’t do anything else there. At least if we take the offer on the table we can get on with our lives. If Scott realized that, if you stopped feeding his fucking delusions, then maybe he could focus on what comes next instead of clinging to something he can’t have.”
Zach pulled the car into her apartment parking lot. He leaned over, face hovering near hers. “If you’re the one feeding him these ideas, keep in mind how severely it fucks with what little chance we have to recover. I keep bringing up the past because your track record when it comes to emotional decisions sucks. If you hurt Scott, I'll never forgive you.”
“Oh no. Because you and I such great friends now.” It took every ounce of sobriety she could grasp to ignore how close he was. To ignore the faint smell of soap, spearmint, and smoke that triggered her fantasies and made her heart flutter. To lie to his face. How had this turned so ugly? Again.
Zach gave her a cold smile. He shut off the engine and handed her the keys. His voice was low. “I’ve moved on, but forgetting would be stupid. Good night, martyr.”
She kept her back straight and her gait even as she walked toward her apartment. The conversation devoured her, and every replayed snippet pissed her off again. What was worse was some of the anger was directed at her. Was he right? Was she making things worse for Scott by being supportive?
No. Zach just didn’t want to hear any opinion that disagreed with his own. It had nothing to do with her or her own prejudices or insecurities. Probably.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Rae tossed her controller on the coffee table, a loud clatter filling the living room, and flung her hands in the air. “Pwned!”
The final score blinked back from the large screen TV, taunting and backing up her exclamation. She'd beaten Scott at a video game, she couldn't believe it. Sure, it was Tetris, but still. It was the principle of things.
“Not,” Scott countered.
“Yuh-huh.” She giggled. “Guess I'm not a noob after all, noob.”
“Oh yeah?” Scott lunged forward, tickling her.
“Ack!” Her giggles squealed through the condo. She fell back on the couch, leather creaking beneath her as she tried to get away. Her shirt slid up her stomach, exposing her flesh the more she resisted. His palms were warm against her skin. The more she squirmed under him, the more her body reacted. She paused, aware of how close he was.
Damn he was good looking. But he wasn’t Zach. What was she thinking? Scott was perfect. The kind of guy she should be with instead of one who used excuses like closure to get laid.
She blinked, but didn't pull away. This was enticing, perfect even. So why didn’t it make her pulse race? She pushed forward anyway. Her bottom lip caught between her teeth, the corner of her mouth still tugged up in a teasing smile. “Meanie.”
Scott rested his forehead against hers. “Pay back's a bitch.” His hands slid under her shirt, fingers lightly brushing her skin as he resumed the teasing torture.
“Oh, you asshole.” Her protest was broken up by laughter. She squirmed, but didn't try to get away. The soft musk of his body wash left her lightheaded.
A loud pounding interrupted. Both of them froze, Scott's gaze locked on hers.
She stared back, a frown driving into erase her amusement. She ignored the whisper of relief trickling through her. Why was this happening between them now? No, that was the wrong question. She should be wondering why she couldn’t get into it. Why it hadn’t happened sooner. “You should probably get that.”
The doorbell rang, followed by another round of pounding. He stood. “Yeah. I guess so.”
What kind of random visitors did he get on a Saturday afternoon? As soon as the question crossed her mind, she had awkward flashes of the weekend before and watching Zach served with the letter that might as well have been a death sentence.
Her gut flipped when she saw a FedEx guy in the doorway.
“Letter for Scott McAllister, can you sign?”
Scott reached for the digital clipboard. “Sure.”
The man in purple studied the signature for a second. “Last name?”
“McAllister?”
“Great. Thanks.” He handed over the envelope and was gone.
Scott turned, frown deepening when he looked at her. She had righted herself and was watching him with concern.
She smiled, but the expression faded again quickly. It was just a coincidence, right? A random delivery that had nothing to do with bad news? The DM logo glared at her from across the room. “I'm starting to think I shouldn't visit you guys on weekends.”
He raised an eyebrow, and then shook his head. He flopped down on the couch next to her and dropped the envelope into his lap. The soft overhead lights glared off the stark white.
The silence sank in, a heavy buzz growing in her ears. Finally she nudged his arm with her shoulder. “You have to open it sometime. It’s just a letter.”
He nodded, but still didn’t move.
She didn’t blame him. After the week of downs they’d had, she wouldn’t want to see what the parent company said either. She tugged it from his lap and yanked the pull strip. The tearing sound echoed in the emptiness. She dropped the contents into her hand, and the embossed letterhead glinted in the light.
It took will-power not to read it herself, but this wasn’t for her. She handed the short stack of papers back to Scott, and then tucked her hands into
her lap. Maybe she should leave.
He muttered as he read, and within minutes had his phone out.
“I should go.” She didn’t need to be a part of whatever this was. She could get the details later.
“It’ll only take a minute.” He nodded back to the couch. “Hey,” he said into the phone. “You get this?”
She hovered at the edge of the cushion, not having to ask who he was talking to. So awkward.
Scott set the phone on the coffee table. “At least they're still paying us.” His joke sounded forced. “I mean, the suspension is only temporary, right?”
“For now.” Zach’s voice echoed from the speakerphone. “You haven’t shown the layoff list to anyone, have you?”
Rae’s back went rigid. Now was definitely her cue to leave. She stood.
Scott shook his head and nodded to the couch again. “Just a sec,” he whispered. In a normal-volume he said, “I just got it. Who would I show?” He paced as he talked, socks shuffling against plush carpet.
“Same person you always show.” Zach’s disembodied voice was heavy with irritation.
A sick feeling grew in her stomach. Part of it was attached to his response; he was talking about her. But the rest of it hadn’t found a reason yet.
“I don’t have to show you,” he said to the phone. “You already know.” Scott gave Rae a weak smile and a wink.
“Clever.” Zach’s exhaled echoed through the receiver. “Just, maybe this once keep it between us?” There was a surrender in the plea that surprised Rae.
“I’m not stupid.” Scott wouldn’t look at her. His gaze was locked on the ground, following his footsteps.
And her ill feeling grew. A layoff list they wouldn’t tell her about. “Chloe.” The name slipped out. Crap, she’d meant to keep that to herself. Her hand flew to her mouth, but it was too late to take it back.
Scott froze, eyes locked on her, expression locked somewhere between apology and a grimace.
“Fuck. Really?” Zach’s voice grew in volume. “It hasn’t even been half an hour.”
His irritation bit at her, but not enough to push aside her concern for her sister. She glared at the phone. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to be the one to break the news.”
Holding Her Close (Bits and Bytes, Book 0) (Bits & Bytes) Page 6
