by Anna Paige
“What? Like she’d be better off with you? You think you can love her better than I can? You don’t even know her. You don’t have the history with her that I do. That counts, whether you believe it or not.”
I couldn’t contain it anymore. I reached up and snared him by the collar, bringing my face to within inches of his. “What counts is that I don’t have a history of abandoning her.” I gave him a push and watched with a smirk as he staggered back, not even attempting to retaliate. “I can do everything better than you—everything—including loving her the way she deserves. Don’t keep pushing this. You’ve already lost. You’re just too damn selfish to accept it.”
He glared at me and straightened his shirt, tugging the briefcase strap higher on his shoulder.
I stepped back and indicated that I’d follow him out. It gave me a jolt of pleasure that he cast a wary glance behind him on the way, as if he was worried I’d come after him while his back was turned.
I wasn’t the coward in this situation and I had no problem facing him head-on. Like Clay always said, sneak attacks are for pussies.
I locked up without further comment to him, listening as his footfalls carried him down the sidewalk.
Shoving the conversation to the back of my mind, I headed toward my car with a grin. It was time to go back to Talia’s. My fierce little tigress had faced him head-on too, and that entitled her to a reward.
And I intended to reward her for hours.
Talia
I STILL COULDN’T believe he let me drive his Chevelle. Not only did he crawl into the passenger seat of his beloved car like he handed me the reins all the time, he insisted we jump on the interstate—which was nowhere near my apartment—so I could ‘stretch her legs.’
Several hours later, I was still smiling about it.
That car was loud and fast and got me so hot I barely got us back to my place before practically climbing Spencer like a tree. Lucky for me, something about seeing me drive his car turned him on, too. We were frantic for each other, knocking things over and wildly tearing at each other’s clothes until there was nothing between us but air.
And then even the air couldn’t separate us.
It was the first time since this all started that he let me do as I pleased. I reveled in the transfer of power and seized the opportunity with gusto.
Afterward we lay flat on our backs on my bed, covers strewn around the room, while we caught our breath.
Spencer chuckled softly, smile wide. “Well, that was fun. You’re a bit of a freak, you know that, sweetheart?”
“There’s something to be said for letting me follow my own impulses, I guess,” I teased.
“I’d have to agree with that. It won’t be the norm, but it will definitely be a recurring thing. Seabiscuit was never ridden so hard. I think I left a permanent ass print in your mattress.”
I turned to face him, head propped up with my hand. “I’ll consider it a keepsake for when you have to go back to Richmond.” I smirked at him seductively, running my fingers through the small trail of hair on his lower abdomen. “And then I’ll come for a visit and put a matching dent in your mattress. Deal?”
He pulled me until my body blanketed his, grasping a handful of my hair and tugging. “How about we put your ass print in my mattress?”
I rolled off of him, pulling him along with me, forcing his body on top of mine. “How about we put my ass print on them both? We can start with this one.”
He pressed himself against my belly, hard again already. “You keep talking like that and we’ll be lucky to ever make it out of this bed.”
I kissed him hungrily. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
“Me too.” He said as he thrust into me.
I wasn’t sure who was more addicted, me or him.
AFTER WHAT I estimated to be over a half dozen orgasms, I grudgingly left the bed to ready myself for work. I always went in at five to help with the evening shift but these last few days I’d been less punctual about it, arriving at quarter past and once—the day Spencer surprised me with shower sex that lasted longer than the hot water—I hadn’t gotten there until nearly six.
Luckily, I wasn’t technically on the schedule so no one was left in a bind, and the only comment made with regard to my tardiness was a suggestive brow wiggle or two from Gina.
I showered and walked back to the bedroom in just a towel, putting my long hair up in a messy bun while I applied my makeup.
Spencer walked in from the hall, a glass of iced tea in each hand. He placed one on my dressing table and took a seat on the foot of the bed to watch me go through my ritual. That was dangerous. I’d already nearly poked a damn eye out with my mascara wand when he walked in with his chest bare and those low slung jeans that accentuated his muscular torso. And that delicious V that began at his hips and pointed the way to his... well, it was a great V.
The man was walking, talking sex and feeling his gaze on me as I sat wrapped in only a thin towel was going to equate another late arrival to work. I had to distract myself before I got tangled up in those sheets with him again. “So, are you going to be working on your secret project again this evening?” Whatever he and Clay had going, he was tight-lipped about it. He wouldn’t even give me a hint. All I knew was it was going to be epic and it involved a lot of people, both tidbits I’d gathered while he talked to Clay on the phone, unaware of my prying ears. I didn’t usually snoop, but he wouldn’t give me clues.
That was the kind of teasing no one liked, dammit.
“Yeah. I’m meeting with a couple of people for dinner to work on it.” He gave me a half smile when I rolled my eyes at his vagueness.
“Why don’t you bring them to Canary? I happen to know the owner and she might just comp your drinks. I hear she’s really cool like that.”
He outright laughed at that one. “Nice try. If we went to Canary, I bet said manager would be hovering nearby trying to spy on something that’s none of her business. That would ruin the surprise.”
I huffed, breaking out the big guns and removing the clips from my hair so it fell down my back. He loved my hair down. “Why would that spoil the surprise? You don’t know that she would blab.” I theorized.
“Not tell her best friend the huge secret? The one who is more sister than friend? It’s a safe bet that she’d snitch.” He teased me back by running a hand over his beard, the sound of the stubble scraping over his palm making my heart race. I loved that beard. So damn sexy.
I gave up, knowing I wasn’t getting any information out of him.
But that didn’t mean I couldn’t get him back.
I stood, casually fluffing my hair and letting the towel drift to the floor. I flipped my head over to scrunch the curls and heard his soft gasp when I whipped my head back and straightened.
“Keep teasing me like that, precious. You won’t make it to work at all tonight.” He stood and walked over to me, placing his hands on either side of my waist. “Or is that what you’re after?”
I pressed a hand to his hard chest, tempted to pull him in but pushing him away instead. “No, you behave. We each have somewhere to be tonight. Wouldn’t want you to be late to your secret meeting, now would we?” The last sentence was heavily laced with sarcasm.
“You know, you’re cute when you pout. Maybe I should annoy you more often.” He tweaked my nipple and I swatted his hands, squealing.
He walked out of the room, his laughter booming down my hallway.
He was such a shit.
And I was falling hopelessly in love with him.
THE RESTAURANT WAS a tad slow for a Wednesday night, so I decided to catch up on some bookkeeping and file away the stack of invoices on my desk. I grew bored of that rather quickly and ended up on my computer doing the one thing I told myself I wouldn’t do.
I was googling Ivey Erickson.
Monday and Tuesday, I had methodically questioned Spencer about their marriage. He’d grudgingly recounted his relationship with the wom
an, and now I needed a face to match up with the name. I was expecting something along the lines of devil horns and maybe a nest of vipers for hair... what I got was a beautiful blonde with startling blue eyes and a striking smile.
Apparently, she was fond of social media and having her photo taken. Between Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and about five platforms I’d never even heard of, there were thousands of pictures to peruse if one was so inclined. After clicking through a few, I closed out the search page and sat back in my chair, not sure how I felt about what I’d seen.
She kind of looked like me. It bothered me that someone like that shared some of my physical traits. Or maybe it was that she and I had shared the same man. There was no denying the resemblance, though, and I briefly wondered if Spencer thought so, too.
No. He hated the woman, there was no way he sought me out because we looked alike. If anything, I would imagine he’d avoid thinking of her as much as possible.
She’d really done a number on him.
From what he told me, they weren’t really serious at first, just the occasional date when their schedules lined up. She was an interior decorator looking to make a name for herself, and his company—CBD, which he owned with Clay and Brant—was just getting off the ground. They went on like that for months, never making plans or anything. Just going with the flow.
Then CBD picked up a huge project building a multi-million-dollar estate for the lead singer of an up-and-coming band. The build put a lot of demands on Spencer’s time and, suddenly, so did Ivey. She was very supportive and encouraging of his career, asked a lot of questions, and before the final brick was laid on the rock star mansion, she claimed to be in love.
Of course, Spencer hadn’t made that connection at the time. Like most of us, he only realized his mistake looking back at things later.
I reopened the search page and scrolled through the image results, comparing what I saw to what I knew about the woman.
She’d fawned over him and cooed in his ear about how much she wanted a baby, knowing he’d always desired a family. He’d felt like he was living a dream. His company was suddenly on the map and in high demand, he was working with his two best friends every day, making more money than they ever dreamed of, and he had a woman by his side that adored him and wanted to have his children.
He was floating on air.
Until he wasn’t.
When Ivey had nearly died from complications of mixing the fertility drugs with the birth control shot, he’d been terrified. Then hurt. And after he knew she was going to be okay, enraged.
Within two months of learning of her deception, he’d served her the divorce papers. He didn’t even fight her over money. He was willing to give up half of his assets just to be done with their marriage and with her. A month later, he found out she’d been having an affair during their last year together.
Ivey had been the one to tell him.
She threw it in his face one evening when they accidentally ran into one another at a party. She’d been there with the man she’d been fucking behind his back. She laughed in his face and wondered how much it sucked for him to find this out after it was too late to change their divorce agreement.
Vicious bitch.
He had every right to hate that woman and I could tell from his tone when he spoke of her that he was still angry, but I could also hear the hurt that he still carried around.
That was why I’d looked her up. I needed to be able to recognize her face because, if I ever had the pleasure of running into her, I was going to knock her goddamn teeth out.
THURSDAY MORNING’S MEETING with Derek was much smoother than the previous days. He stuck to the interview questions, kept the conversation relevant, and minded his distance in a way that made me wonder if what I’d said had gotten through or if Spencer had threatened to kill him. Regardless of the reason, it was a huge about-face and I was thankful for it.
I hadn’t asked Spencer what they’d talked about the day before. I was just relieved they’d both walked out with no obvious signs of a fight. And I’d been too proud of myself to care. It wasn’t easy for me to stand up to Derek like that without my emotions getting the better of me, but I’d done it.
Sitting in the Chevelle blasting the heat and the stereo, I’d felt like a bit of a badass.
Spencer had laughed at me when he climbed in and given me a high-five—like we were in middle school and I’d just clocked the schoolyard bully. It was hilarious.
Looking at Derek today, he seemed different, subdued. Maybe a little sad. I wanted to feel bad for him, I really did. It was my nature to nurture—Spencer was right on that one—but I just couldn’t muster any feeling at all for the man who’d left me crying in my driveway all those years ago. Not sympathy or anger, not even familiarity. He wasn’t the same and I wasn’t the same.
For the first time since he walked back into my life, it looked like he knew it too.
I could only hope he would make a graceful exit instead of picking a fight with Spencer. As much as I appreciated my over-protective boyfriend—a title that still sounded odd to me—I didn’t want him getting into trouble. Derek wouldn’t win in a fight with Spencer, we all knew that, but Derek would be the type to be a sore loser and press charges or something equally spiteful. He’d had a vindictive streak as long as I’d known him, and I doubted that had changed over the years.
He might be giving me that patient, wounded look today, but that didn’t mean it would last.
He stood as we finished up, reminding me again about the photographer before quietly saying goodbye and walking away without even attempting a handshake. My relief at his attitude change was beginning to morph into something akin to suspicion.
Even Spencer felt it, coming up beside me as I stood watching Derek leave. He kissed my head and followed my gaze. “Why do I get the feeling that little bastard is still up to something?” He mused.
I shrugged and pursed my mouth in an attempt to seem unaffected. “He’s just tending his bruised ego.”
My explanation didn’t seem to impress him. He turned to me with a wry look on his face and a snarky comment on his lips, but was cut off by the ringing of his cell. He smirked at me as he took it out and thumbed the screen, mouthing ‘Brant’ and moving back to his spot at the bar to take the call.
Taking the water glasses from the table I’d been sitting at with Derek, I went back to the kitchen to put them in the sink and grabbed a small fruit and cheese sampler from the walk-in cooler to share with Spencer before we headed out.
When I got back to the bar Spencer was still on the phone, presumably with Brant, and seemed agitated. His voice wasn’t raised but he was practically snarling into the phone and alternately jabbing a finger at the screen on his iPad.
“What the hell are we supposed to do? We can’t start the build now and we have nothing upcoming that we can start on with such short notice. Fuck!” He scrolled through something on his tablet and nodded at whatever Brant was saying. “Yeah, I know. But what about the crews? What about the office staff?”
I stood in the archway between the dining room and bar, not sure whether to approach or leave him alone to hash out whatever this was.
He must have heard me there, though I was barely breathing, much less moving, because he turned around on his bar chair and motioned me over, trying for a reassuring smile and failing miserably.
I decided to take up residence behind the bar, placing the snack in front of him and busying myself making him a fresh cappuccino while I tried not to snoop on his conversation. The one he was having three feet from where I stood. Yeah, right. I was going to hear every word but he seemed not to care about that or he wouldn’t have motioned for me to join him.
“Okay, yeah. Maybe we can do something like that. No, no. You’re right. We can at least be productive while we try to fill the schedule.” He listened for a while, picking at the sampler and crunching on a few grapes. “I have a lot to do for the wedding gift and I’ve heard that Ta
lia has been drafted to help with some of the preparations, maybe I’ll see if I can assist somehow.” He winked at me, looking more relaxed but I knew he was still stressing about something and it was big.
I sat his cappuccino in front of him and smiled, wanting to be supportive in the only way I knew how. That was my thing. I fed people.
He took a sip and smiled appreciatively, mouthing his thanks before returning to his conversation. “I’ll get everything lined up and call Clay to let him know what’s going on. Thanks for getting in touch so quickly. If I’d seen it on the news...” He groaned. “Let’s just say it was better to hear it from you.”
The news? What the hell was going on?
Spencer said his goodbyes a minute later and dropped his phone to the bar top, leaning his head into his hands with a frustrated grunt.
I reached across the bar and touched his arm, waiting for him to look up at me. “You know, they say unloading your troubles to the local bartender can be quite therapeutic.” I made a show of grabbing a bar towel and wiping the already-pristine surface between us. “So, what’s the trouble, buddy?”
“You never fail to make me smile, you know that?” He was only partially smiling as he watched me. “It’s one of the things I love most about you.” He picked up his cappuccino to take a sip, freezing with the cup midway to his lips. His eyes darted to mine, wide as saucers. “Uh... I meant...” He stumbled over his words, running his empty hand over his dark hair in panic.
I was fighting to pull in a breath.
Did he just...?
No.
He didn’t mean it like that.
It was just an expression, right?
He looked as though he wanted to snatch the words out of the air between us, which made me want to rescue him from himself.
“Well, I tend to make jokes when things are tense or uncomfortable, so I’m glad I could help. It looked like whatever Brant told you was decidedly bad news.” I gave him a look of anticipation, hoping he’d take the opportunity to jump topics.
