“Sounds like he would get along with my Mother. You know that show Toddlers and Tiaras with the pageant kids? I was one of those kids until I begged my father to make her stop. Not literally on the show, but I did the pageant circuit.”
Gigi didn’t even know that. Those pictures were hidden away and as long as no one knew, even the internet wouldn’t out her to her friends. Telling him went against the grain but not many people understood the connection of losing a parent and the strain of pleasing the family you have left.
“No shit?” He gawked at her, eyes raking her body as they moved.
“Pageant Queen and terror on the track. I’ve got hidden depths.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively, which elicited another laugh—a sound that she was starting to crave thanks to the gratifying chill it sent to all her lady parts.
They came to the end of the trail and the row of parked cars. Instead of relief to be out of his company and free she felt a pang of regret. She’d enjoyed getting to see this side of him, to relate with him almost as much as she’d enjoyed getting a sidelong view of him running beside her naked from the waist up.
“Which one is yours?”
She pointed across the lot to her Challenger, glowing like blue fire in the sun. “The Dodge beside that black sedan.”
“I parked by you.”
“That boring thing is yours.” Briar slapped her hand over her mouth. Shit that was rude. “I just mean you have such good taste in suits. You can’t tell me you couldn’t do better than that?” Dammit. She cringed at herself. That was almost worse.
Again, the warm rich sound of his laughter dissipating her worry over the faux pas. “I like you when you don’t filter. You’re right. It’s boring like me. I bought it for the safety rating and gas mileage. Yours on the other hand, suits you now that I know you’re a beauty queen that likes to go fast.”
Briar leaned one hip against the rear quarter panel of her car and gripped the door handle in one hand, still facing Ciaran. “You don’t strike me as someone who plays it safe. A bit of a stickler for the rules—sure. That comes with the territory of a good leader, but I think you’re more of a calculated risk taker. Makes me want to ruffle your feathers a little.”
He reached up, his hand caressing her cheek as he tucked an errant strand of hair that somehow came loose from her top knot. The touch was innocent on the outside but considering he was her boss, he shouldn’t be touching her at all. “Believe me, you are already.”
Oh, shit. What did that mean? Her body knew what it wanted such a bold statement to mean, but her heart and her common sense were quacking in their proverbial boots. It wasn’t technically a blatant come on. Did she encourage him or play it cool? Did she want that from him? She wasn’t divorced yet and he was her boss. Hell—she hardly knew him. She could at least admit she wanted that—to know him on a level that went past boss and employee or even past coworker.
Briar played the middle road. “Thank you for keeping me company. I promise I’ll try to keep my clothes on tomorrow.”
His lips spread into a crooked smile that made him look like a romance novel cover model before he leaned in, his lips so close to her cheek she could feel the heat of his breath on her skin and smell the spice in his aftershave. “Don’t stay dressed on my account.”
Those whispered words sent heat flooding through Briar and her nipples tingled in response. She leaned against the car for support, completely struck dumb. It left her no choice but to stand there and watch as he strolled to his sedate black Audi that she suddenly wanted to check out the backseat of. She didn’t move until he’d driven away with a small wave through his darkened windows.
Thud, thud, thud. “We come bearing ice cream!” Gigi’s voice carried through the door in a singsong rhythm. “Open up. I know you’re in there. You don’t get to sit at home alone wallowing.”
Briar padded across the floor as she wound her hair up in a towel to dry, no doubt leaving a trail of drips and wet footprints in her wake. She hadn’t exactly been wallowing, more like drowning out her hormones under the hot spray of her shower after her run with Ciaran. Somehow, she had to rinse all her new dirty thoughts right down the drain. Hell, she sang the damn song from South Pacific like it was her anthem through her whole shower.
As she swung the door open, she caught the tail end of Ann berating Gigi in an exasperated whisper. “I can’t believe you didn’t keep a copy of the key? We could be walking in there right now. What if she was sick or…” Ann stopped and turned her head slowly towards Briar, her hazel eyes wide with false innocence. “Hi. How long have you been standing there with the door open?”
Leaning against the casement, Briar scrunched her face up in a mockery of stern disappointment. “Long enough to hear you suggest that you’re totally okay with a little breaking and entering under the guise of my safety.”
The aghast look of horror that spread across Ann’s face made it impossible to hold her own stern expression together for more than thirty seconds before Briar lost it in a fit of the giggles that Gigi had already caved to.
Ann crossed her arms under her breasts, a fabric grocery bag dangling from one hand. “And to think I brought shit to share. I see how you bitches operate.”
This sparked another fit until Briar dabbed at the happy tears burning the corners of her eyes and took several deep breathes. “Get your asses in here. I totally needed that.” She stepped back to let them enter and then closed the door behind them.
“I know. That’s why we’re here. Jay called.” Gigi traipsed straight to the kitchen and made herself at home—which it technically still was—unloading the contents of her own rose print grocery bag. Only Gigi would turn something so mundane into another pink fashion accessory.
“So much for lawyer-client privilege,” Briar mumbled.
Gigi shrugged. “What can I say, sisterly benefits.” Her former roommate held up a pint and waiving it in encouragement. “Dark chocolate or milk chocolate with Carmel?”
Ann’s nose scrunched up in disgust. “Neither; no one is interested in your diary free crap. She’s having an adult root beer float with me.”
Using the pint to gesture, Gigi pointed at her, waving it up and down as she vented her conviction over her health treat. “I’ve got a wedding dress to fit into. You shouldn’t knock it before you try it. The almond milk ice cream tastes kinda like toasted almond fudge. And I didn’t ask you, Ann. I asked her.” She pointed it at to Briar as if they needed a visual reminder of who she was referring to.
“What’s this adult root beer float?” Briar asked, cutting off the bickering before it could go any further.
Ann smiled; her grin carried a distinct note of gloating victory. “Alcoholic root beer and vanilla ice cream.”
Apparently well-deserved gloating. The better Briar got to know Ann the more she liked her. “Sorry, Gigi. After the day I’ve had, alcohol-laced ice cream sounds like heaven. I’ll get the cups. Spoons are in the drawer next to the fridge.”
Pumping her fist in victory, Ann spun around and grabbed three spoons from the drawer, passing one to Gigi who grabbed it from her hand as she reached around her to pop the unneeded pint into the freezer. Gigi yanked the top off the remaining pint and speared the contents with her spoon. Then she hoisted herself up onto the counter, crossing her legs at the ankle like somebody’s five-year-old pretty pink princess eating pilfered ice cream. The scene unfolded like watching a low budget ballet.
Briar shook her head as she sat the cups on the counter and stepped back out of the way. The kitchen wasn’t big enough for three grown ass women even if those two made it look effortless.
She caught her reflection in the glass of one of Gigi’s picture frames, reminding her of the towel currently wound up on her head. “While you all are doing that, I’m going to finish my hair.”
“Do you have foam rollers?” Gigi called after her.
“You are not doing my hair,” Briar yelled back as she passed through the bedroom to get to
the bathroom. At least the steam had a chance to clear.
“You’re no fun.” Gigi’s voice became louder as she gave up her perch and followed Briar. “It could be like college. You looked fantastic with a wet set.”
“Just because I have blonde hair and blue eyes doesn’t mean I’m your live-action Barbie doll. Find a new victim.” Briar pulled the now soaked towel from her hair and spread it out over the empty towel bar to dry out.
Ann appeared over Briar’s shoulder in the mirror. “I chopped my hair off and died it blonde so that I could stop being her Christina.”
“But you’re my person,” Briar protested.
“I don’t even like Gray’s Anatomy.”
Briar and Gigi turned gasping in slack-jawed horror as Ann sat the red solo cup in front of Briar on the bathroom counter.
“I feel like I don’t even know you right now.” Briar stuck a spoon full of ice cream in her mouth as she continued to shake her head.
“I thought you said we could trust her.” Briar worked the brush through her hair. “If you hadn’t come here with ice cream and alcohol, I’m not even sure we could be friends, Ann.”
“You two are ridiculous.” Ann vacated the doorway and made herself comfortable on the edge of Gigi’s former bed, covered in Briar’s newly purchased silver and violet linens.
Much to Briar’s surprise, Gigi’s former bedroom lacked the vibrant colors she’d come to associate with her friend. Thankfully, she’d come prepared. In her boredom after the great purge, she’d been doing a little online shopping. After all, she’d burned the linens right along with every sheet and blanket in her house. There was no telling how long her mother had been sleeping with her husband or even how many other skanks there had been during their marriage since he’d never shown much interest in her past the obligatory once a month missionary that required a blowjob from her to even get started.
It was little wonder her hormones were raging around Ciaran. Setting aside the enlightening conversation they’d had n her run, he may be an arrogant, insufferable prick, but from what she could see around the office, he was at least fair and more often than not, generous. Jack explained at lunch that Ciaran did that coffee run every morning and they never had to chip in. If he was that generous to people he paid to employ, she could only imagine how he would be in a more intimate setting—something she really shouldn’t do. It also didn’t hurt that he oozed sex appeal through the seams of his overpriced suit.
Gigi milled around the bedroom behind her. “Start talking, Briar. Tell me about this sexy boss who calls you out on your wardrobe choices.”
Briar poked her head out of the open bathroom door, glaring daggers at Ann. “Traitor.”
She had the gall to play innocent and bat her eyelashes. “What? I figured you would have told her already. I was kind of surprised that I told her first considering how far back you all go.”
“You only know because I needed you to save my ass,” Briar called back out the bathroom door. She stuck her tongue out at herself in the mirror and then turned, leaning one hip against the doorframe as she continued to work on her hair. “Today he called me out on my fishnet tights. Gave me a bullshit cop-out about it being implied in the policy. He’s a total ass, but a good looking one. At least I thought he was an ass until I ran into him on the trail during my run. He must live around here or something.”
“Wait, you ran into him?” Gigi stopped in the middle of her pacing to focus on Briar.
She shrugged. “Yeah, and he behaved like a gentleman for a change.”
“And?” Gigi gestured with her spoon, circling it as if she could pull out more details.
“And nothing. I came home and took a shower, which you interrupted with ice cream and malt liquor masquerading as root beer. What’s there to tell?”
“For you to say that, he clearly did more than smile and run on past. We want the dirt.” Gigi abandoned her pint on the lowboy dresser and sauntered to the closet, flipping through the dresses.
Finished with her hair, Briar left her brush on the back of the toilet, grabbed the drink Ann left for her and took her first sip through the straw before filling them in on the short version. When Briar finished, Gigi paused through her casual perusal and focused as if she was turning the whole thing over in her head, searching for the hidden meaning.
“I never would have expected him to give me the shirt right off his back. He was nice about it, and I can’t say I minded the view.” Briar took another long sip of her root beer float. “This is pretty awesome stuff, Ann. But I have to ask, where did you find the straws? I didn’t think I had any.”
Ann leaned back, leveling her with an affronted glare. “Please. I came prepared. Considering you don’t pack more than a safety pin as an afterthought in your purse, there was no way I could have expected you to stock your kitchen properly. Now don’t change the subject.”
“Here! Here! Get back to the hunky boss, turning from suit-wearing asshole to shirtless hero. That sounded promising.”
“There’s nothing left to discuss. Have you ever considered making this with buttered rum ice cream? I think that could really take this thing up a level…I mean rum. How could it be wrong?”
Ann took the root beer float out of Briar’s hand. “Hey! Give that back.”
“You have to earn it, missy! We’re talking feeling’s here, and you are clearly in denial about the possibilities.” Ann held the drink up over her head, away from Briar.
“What possibilities? I’m sure he’ll turn back into a frog tomorrow.” Briar rolled her eyes and stood long enough to snatch back her drink before plopping down again. “This isn’t a fairy tale. Besides, I’m not in the dating pool. I’m still married.”
“The sex possibilities, sweetie.” Gigi pulled a low cut teal dress from the closet and held it up to her body, checking herself out in the full-length mirror and posing as she spoke. “When was the last time you got laid?”
Ann tapped the top Briar’s shoulder to get her attention and leaned in, her tone a mock whisper. “Little secret. Sometimes the jerks are the nice ones. They’re used to being used, and for a real estate heir like Ciaran Rand, there’s money and expectations. If a woman took the time to get past the wall of asshole he’s built around himself, he’s probably one of the good ones.”
Briar couldn’t help but think of how he offered his shirt on the trail and their mutual understanding of parental expectations and losing a parent. She’d left that part out of the version of events she’d shared. He didn’t deserve to have his pain broadcasted for their amusement.
Gigi took up where Ann left off, speaking over her shoulder as she continued to shop Briar’s closet. “It’s the charmers you have to worry about, and you married a charmer. Do you remember Todd in the beginning? Then later with everyone who wasn’t you? That’s why I kept pushing you to ditch him in college. It’s past time you changed your M.O.”
Briar didn’t want to admit it, but they made sense. The men she’d been encouraged to date tended to be charmers but then once she had them, either she got bored, or they did. She only dated them because her mother expected it. That never turned out well for her. If she’d followed her own heart, she probably never would have married Todd. He happened to be in the right place at the wrong time. Her knee injury put her in a vulnerable place. When he proposed, and he mother got excited, she didn’t fight it.
Did Todd cheat on her because he knew that she didn’t really love him? Had it been fair to expect fidelity in a loveless marriage? Okay—she wasn’t going to absolve him. That would be going too far. She’d been just as trapped, but she’d managed. Not to mention fucking her mother had been low of not only him but also her mother—unforgivable.
Briar could forgive herself and learn from that mistake. ”I don’t know myself enough to figure out what I want. All my decisions were weighed against expectation.”
Gigi crossed the room, the dress in her hands forgotten as she sat on Briar’s other side, sandwiching
her in. “Look at the source. No one can blame you for trusting your mother, but after what she did to you, can you really still think that any man she’d find good enough is the right kind of man?” Gigi hooked an arm around Brair’s shoulders. “You should follow your own desire. Beat your own path; but if you need a guide, we’ll be here. Listen to me or better yet—listen to Ann. I didn’t and almost missed out on the best man that ever happened to me. She’s like the dating whisperer. She used reverse psychology to get me right where I needed to be.”
“He pisses me off, and it gets me excited.” Heat flooded Briar’s cheeks as the admission slipped out. “It’s that feeling like I’m about to run a race—the drive to win. When he baits me using my clothes—the one thing I do that has always just been about what I want—it makes me want to push back harder.”
Gigi passed her the dress. “So let’s do it. Let’s plan out some outfits and see just how big of an asshole he is. With enough encouragement, I bet he breaks and seals the deal. This color brings out your eyes.”
“Not this one.” Briar put one arm around each of her friends, pulling them in for a side hug as the smile started to tug at her lips. “I’ve got a new lavender dress that makes me feel like a goddess. I guess you get to play Barbie, after all.”
6
Who would have thought that hump day of all days could usher in an attitude change—certainly not Briar. Nevertheless, the evidence was sitting beside her on a Chesterfield sofa with his shirt sleeves rolled up and his tie pulled loose. Not sloppy loose, just enough to be on the right side of sexy. Hell, he’d even gotten her coffee right. Apparently, he’d been paying attention, because today there’d been no creamers or sugar to fix it, but the first sip was perfect. Yet another sign there might be more to Ciaran.
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