Roman: Time.
Me: Not sure yet.
That was a lie. I knew what train I was taking, but I didn't want to tell him. Partly because I was still annoyed with him for acting like a total asshole about this for three days, and partly because I wanted to surprise him and see the sexy grin spread across his face when I did.
Roman: Text me when you know.
I didn't respond to that last order of his, because I didn't want to have to lie to him again. Or rather omit part of the truth. Blake was traveling back to Philly with me, and I really didn't need Roman seeing him if he picked me up.
Talk about a train wreck. (Pun totally intended.)
"You want my coat?" Blake asks since I'm obviously shivering.
"Thanks, but I'm okay."
He gives me a perplexed look, because it's crystal clear that I'm freezing, but thankfully he decides to let the subject rest.
"Homecoming was kind of all right this year."
"Yeah, you would say that." I grin. "Your team won."
Blake laughs, "That's true, but we win every year don't we? What I meant was that the turn out was better than usual."
"You're right, it was a really good turn out. Must have been one of the biggest crowds yet. I didn't even see you once."
"You should have texted me. I would have met you somewhere," he said. "I haven't been in two years, so I hung out with some old friends from school back at their places mostly. I wasn't on campus that much. We only went to the game, not to any of the other stuff. Speaking of the game, did you try that carrot cake from the food truck over by the North field? You like sweets, right?"
I'm learning more interesting facts about Blake as we work together. He often brings up restaurants he's visited or new recipes he's tried. He's a foodie.
"Oh yeah, I've had it before. It's delicious. That's Ruby's truck."
"Ruby?"
"She was a lunch lady at Penn-Washington High for years. She always said she was going to start a business of her own, and she did about two years ago. The food truck was her dream."
"You keep in touch with her?" he asks as if he's kind of impressed that I still keep up with the lunch lady. I almost hate to disappoint him.
"No, nothing as nice as that. It's just that my mother knows everything about everyone in Penn-Washington. She's in every organization, club, and Facebook group that the town has. So she keeps me abreast of all goings on." I laugh.
"Ah, I see," he chuckles. "Sounds like my mom and your mom probably have a lot in common. That's how we know Jessica's family. Her mom and my mom are in MADD together."
"Mad?"
"Mothers Against Drunk Driving. My older brother was killed by a drunk driver when we were in high school."
"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't hear about that."
"Well I'm a few years older than you and my brother was three years older than me. So chances are you were watching The Disney Channel when it happened."
"Of course." I smile warmly. "You're right. I probably wouldn't have heard."
Our train finally pulls in and without asking Blake grabs the handle of my carry on and motions for me to step ahead of him on the train. It's kind of nice. He's almost like the big brother I never had, except for the fact that I pay him. I need to remember that. Maybe he's nice, because he likes his job and wants to keep it.
"Are these two okay?" he asks about a set of seats towards the back of the train.
"Sure, those are fine."
It's a section of four seats facing each other. So he gestures for me to take a window seat, then he takes the other facing me, and places my carry on and his backpack on the seats next to us on the aisle.
My phone buzzes to life.
Sloan: I miss u
Me: Not for much longer
Sloan: You're on your way home?
Me: Yep
Sloan: Yippee! Fun fact ... I got blown off by a man yet again.
Me: Just quit already
Sloan: I can't now. It's the principle of the thing. So what time does your train get in?
Me: I'll be home in about an hour. I'll call you later.
Sloan: Cool
Blake watches silently as I shift around in my seat, taking off my jacket, and sending a last emoji text to Sloan. I feel a little self-conscious, like he's studying me closely, but not in a creepy kind of way. Just a curious one.
"How's your mom feeling?" he asks as he pulls his shoulder length blond mane back behind his ears.
"She's much better, thanks for asking. She has to rest her back a bit more, but my dad took off of work next week. So he'll be there to wait on her hand and foot. Thank God."
"Ready to get back home were you?" he says in a funny Star Wars Yoda-like voice.
"Definitely." I giggle at his geekiness. "Oh and I meant to say that I'm sorry we weren't able to get as much work done as I thought we would. I didn't realize how much my mom still does at home. Even with just the two of them now, they really needed my help. She still does all the cooking, the cleaning and is part of like a thousand organizations. I was emailing on her behalf for hours."
"It's cool. We're only a week or two behind your release schedule. We can make it up by putting in a couple of extra hours this week and next week. It'll be fine. Actually in a perfect world, I should be able to do everything, and you just check that it all works in the end."
"Is that your roundabout way of saying that I should stop looking over your shoulder?"
"No," he chuckles. "I'm just saying that you should be able to take care of your mom without worrying that the app is going to get behind. You hired me for a reason. You should trust that I can get it done."
"I do trust you. It's just that I'm watching everything you do, because I want to learn. I don't just want to delegate."
"You already know the basics of most of what I'm doing. You just haven't put a lot of the theory you learned to actual use yet."
"I suppose you're right."
"That Penn degree is a good résumé builder, but in this business, experience is everything."
"That's exactly what I'm saying. At first it was entirely me working on School Bucks, but my lack of real world experience was holding the project back. I think it may have played a part in why I didn't get money from an investment group that I pitched earlier this year. I guess there's something to be said for knowing what you don't know."
"Very true, but why don't we agree that you pull back for the next two weeks, and let me finish the updates. Then after the release we can spend the next two weeks getting you ready to help me code the next update by yourself. I'll just supervise. Deal?"
I really like that idea.
"Okay, deal."
Blake reaches inside of his backpack and pulls out two bottles of spring water.
"Want one?" he asks.
I nod and accept the bottle. We've got about a forty minute ride, because the train is a local one and will make plenty of stops.
"Cheers." We both toast to our new business arrangement.
"Can I ask you something, Blake?" I ask as I take a long swig of the water.
"Sure."
"I didn't really hound you for a real answer when I first hired you, but why exactly do you work for me? It's plain as day that you're completely overqualified for the position. You should be running a tech department for an established company. Not working for a web start-up like mine."
He takes a long sip of his water as if he's contemplating exactly whether or not tell me the truth or a lie. At least that's how I'm interpreting his facial expressions.
"The truth?"
"Absolutely," I reply.
"As you know, my last job was in New York, but what you don't know is that I left kind of a mess behind. I had a thing with my boss Erin, and it ended badly." He grins sheepishly. "She basically blackballed me afterwards. At least at the companies that she'd knew I'd try to interview with. Management is pretty much out of the question for me right now."
It's not funny, but I can
't help but laugh a little to myself about the thought of Blake ruining a job because of an affair. I definitely didn't peg him as the type to be having a lurid affair at work. My first and second impression of him was that he's a free spirit, with little time for serious relationships, but that shows how much I know. We all can make fools of ourselves when it comes to love.
"Did you cheat on her or something?" I ask.
"No, that's not my style. In the end we were just too different. I know they say that opposites attract, but ultimately I don't think opposites can sustain a long-term relationship. Too many compromises."
"So she's a real bitch, huh?"
"Definitely." He cracks a wide smile. "Problem is I think I still love her."
I take another swig of water after that comment. Poor guy.
"That's unfortunate," I say.
"Eh, I'll probably always love her. I just don't like her very much. So anyway, I couldn't find work without a decent referral from her, and my ego refused to allow me to wait tables, so I broke my lease in New York and came home to mom and dad instead. None of us were happy that I was back in the house. I wasn't regimented enough for them, and they were driving me nuts with their expectations. So we cut a deal.
"They will support my moving out by paying half of my rent for a while, and everything else is on me. Luckily I have a bit of savings, so I found a decent apartment here in the city through a friend. My folks pay half of the rent, and now you're helping me pay the other half, boss lady."
His gray eyes dance a bit when he calls me boss lady, and even though I know he's not trying to be, there's something about his playful personality that gives off major flirty vibes.
Between his natural charm and the fact that Roman already feels some kind of way about the guy after meeting him only one time, I make the decision that I need to keep the two of them as far away from each other as possible. Blake is great, but I already know that Roman won't like him no matter what I say. And frankly I don't want anything to ruin this new alliance that Blake and I have formed. I could learn so much from him, and he's got great ideas for School Bucks. There's no way I'm messing that up.
"So how do you like working for a start up like me?"
"I like that my work really matters, and that the company is doing more for people than just making a profit. Plus it doesn't hurt that that the person in charge is easy on the eyes." He smiles.
Very flirty.
"Is that what you said to Erin?" I ask in jest.
"Probably." His grin grows even wider. "My mouth gets me in trouble a lot of the time."
Yeah ... it would probably be best if Roman and Blake stayed very far apart from each other.
CHAPTER TWELVE
ELIZABETH
Since I haven't called or sent a text to Roman about my arrival time, I figure it's fine for Blake and I to share a cab ride from the train station. He only lives about ten minutes from me. Plus, I'm probably overthinking this. He works for me. This is business, not pleasure. So we arrange for the cab to drop me off first and then continue on to his house.
I try to pay the driver the fare for both of us, but Blake adamantly refuses. So I pay the driver my half, and then wave good-bye as they pull away. I've concluded, based on our time together on the train that my coder is a really good guy, and that old boss of his is probably an idiot for letting him go. I wonder when I can arrange for him to accidentally meet Tiny. They'd make a cute couple.
I drop my bags at the front door, as I angrily begin searching the bottom of my purse for my house keys. So frustrating. I meant to switch handbags before I left for my trip to Penn-Washington, but I kept forgetting to do it. I can never find my keys in this one. The base of this black leather bag is too wide and deep.
Finally I feel the cool metal ring of my keychain, and a wave of relief floods me. The fact that this little thing irritated me tells me that I'm way more on edge than I thought. I'm happy to be back home, but my body is practically thrumming in anticipation of seeing Roman. So as soon as I walk through the threshold, I'm going to put my things down, quickly water my three sort-of-dead plants, freshen up a little (mouthwash and a little spritz of body spray), and then run by The Lotus to see if he's there. The club tends to be where he spends the majority of his time when he isn't handling something for Mendez. He doesn't like to stay holed up in his apartment by himself.
Speaking of Mendez, sometimes I think that he's just an overpaid major league pitcher who wants Roman around as some sort of glorified security guard. The big saving his ass from major league baseball job Roman did for Mendez has been completed. The baseball commissioner isn't going after him for illegal steroid use anymore. Now baseball has moved on to some other totally guilty player. So it really makes no sense why Roman has to spend so much time with the guy other than to justify the amount of money Mendez pays him. That and the fact that Roman seems to be bored out of his mind.
Before I can get my key inside the door, I suddenly feel something large and furry with strong, hot breath nudging the backs of my knees forward, almost making them buckle. I'd know that rough play anywhere, and that means his even rougher master can't be very far behind.
Butterflies fill my belly.
And my skin grows warm.
I turn my head and immediately lock eyes with Roman who is leaning against the passenger side of his Range Rover directly in front of me. I guess I was so preoccupied with finding my keys, that I didn't notice that he pulled up in a totally illegal parking spot; there's a fire hydrant there right in front of my house.
My heart races.
He looks better than I remember if that's even possible.
He's wearing my favorite dark jeans, a black leather jacket, a thermal underneath that, and hard bottomed boots. Everything about him looks worn, hard, and weathered. And after being home for two weeks and only seeing guys I grew up with, with soft bodies and bloodshot eyes; it's like a true reward to lay eyes on a real man who doesn't depend on his parents to take care of him, who is as hard as a rock, and who looks at me like I'm the hottest woman breathing on the planet.
Well normally he does.
Right now he's looking at me more like a dead man walking.
Even wearing his leather coat, I can still see the outline of his thick, roped arms that are crossed tightly in front of him in defiance. His scarred face shows little emotion, and his bottomless black pupils are battling back and forth between my eyes and my body. He's pissed, and knowing him it could be about a myriad of things, but my educated guess is that right now it's because I didn't tell him I was back in town.
All right, so this is not exactly how I thought our reunion was going to go down but, whatever. Here we are. And I honestly don't care how it goes down. I'm just so frackin' happy to see his mean butt.
"Masterson." I smile and nod my head hello in an effort to diffuse the tension.
His lips twitch.
He's happy to see me too, but he's really trying to be a hard ass. So I drop my bag and my keys and run towards him. Jumping high and wrapping my legs around his waist. I start peppering the sides of his face with kisses.
"I missed you." I practically squeal. Totally happy to see him, while also hoping that my over the top greeting will thaw his icy greeting.
He grabs me immediately by my hips and butt to hold me up, but he still doesn't say a word, as he moves us both forward towards the door. Still holding me, he silently bends down into a squat, picks up my keys and opens the door.
Damn, he's strong.
Once we're inside, he sets me down carefully on the large table I have near the door and orders me with a raw voice "not to fucking move." Just those four words alone are enough to make my insides clench in anticipation.
I watch as he pulls my handbag and carry on inside the apartment and slings them forcefully across the floor after shutting the door. Even Mr. Tibbs flinches in surprise for a moment, but then moves leisurely and silently to his favorite corner of my living room and lies down. Dogs aren
't dumb. He can feel the tension rolling off of Roman too, and he's trying to stay out of the line of fire.
"Masterson–" I try to say sexily.
He moves swiftly back to me, wraps his entire palm around my throat, cradling it as his thumb starts stroking my bottom lip. It's a dominant, but very controlled move. Almost as if he's trying to stop himself from doing what he really wants to do. I take a quick inhalation of breath.
"Don't say another fucking word," he commands.
I clamp my mouth shut.
He lets my throat go and casually begins to take off his jacket. His favorite one. A worn but very expensive, black leather, motorcycle-styled jacket with silver hardware. Then he carefully hangs it up on one of the silver coat hooks I recently had him install by the door. All his movements seem very slow and deliberate.
Making my angst swell.
Underneath the jacket, he's wearing his gun holster, which is somewhat unusual for this time of day. If he carries, it's usually at night when all the crazies are out. Especially for the club.
He pulls a gun that I've never seen before out of the holster, puts on the safety, unloads the clip, and takes a bullet out of the chamber. He places all the various parts down very carefully and methodically next to me on the table. I want to ask him if it's new, but I'm not a complete idiot. This isn't the time or place to talk about new purchases. This is a time to be quiet. I think he's trying to calm down.
I can't keep my eyes off of the way his shoulders, his arms and the muscles in his back ripple, as he takes off the holster and lays it across the back of the sofa. Next he lifts up his left pant leg and pulls a small hunting knife out of his left boot and places that on the table as well.
The clank of the knife landing on the table and Roman's continued silence is making me somewhat anxious, yet I'm also sopping wet between my legs. Probably because now my eyes have locked in on the very large bulge in his jeans, angrily trying push it's way through the zipper.
I'm not sure that it's in my best interest to start making inquiries, but I can't help myself. I want to know what in the ham sandwich is up with him. Is he trying to seduce me or scare me? Frighten me or fuck me?
The Cousins Series Boxed Set Page 46
