“You don’t fucking come to a reunion to score with the hottest, most wanted chick in our class when you have a girlfriend with a blowjob mouth and succulent tits just ready to blow you.”
What? Conor couldn’t even believe Bill had been so crass, especially with Morgan right there. “I need you to apologize to my fiancée right now. While I agree that she’s beautiful and captivating in every way, you’ve objectified her like she’s a porn star.”
“You’ve treated her worse than I ever could, man.”
Put up or shut up time. “I asked you to apologize.”
With a sneer, Bill puffed out his chest before crossing his arms. “Make me.”
Conor sized him up. He’d never fought anyone physically before, let alone a man bigger than himself—and he wasn’t a guy to worry about honor when they were just emotional words being flung around a room to get his goat—but something deep inside himself wanted to prove he could do it. Bill had been an asshole in high school, always engaging in skirmishes or word battles and, even though teachers knew he was an instigator, he’d gotten away with it all four years, usually leaving other kids to pay in one way or another.
No more.
The kid inside Conor wanted justice—and the man Conor had become needed to defend Morgan, even if she didn’t care one way or another. He’d asked as politely as possible under the circumstances and Bill had refused. “Fine. I need you to step outside.”
Bill raised his eyebrows, an amused look painting his face so much that he seemed to be on the verge of a laughing fit. Francis nodded continuously as if this was something Bill did all the time. “We don’t need to go outside, man, ‘cause this won’t last long. Take your best shot and then I’ll lay you out.”
How the hell had he gotten himself into this predicament? And was there a diplomatic way out?
Chapter Eighteen
LIKE IT OR not, Conor had been pulled into a fight and he wondered how the hell some men did this all the time, especially once they’d matured. Conor dug deep in his memory, back to a time when his dad had tried to teach him how to defend himself, trying techniques he knew he’d never use. But dad, being the smart man he’d always been, knew the lessons would come in handy someday. He clenched both hands at his side as if warming up, and then he consciously formed the fist his dad had taught him to make—solid and strong. Moving one more step toward Bill, he kept his legs apart to balance his center of gravity. Punch with your whole body, not just your hand.
Taking a deep breath, Conor pulled his fist back and let it fly before it landed squarely on Bill’s jaw.
Holy shit. He’d done it.
Bill blinked a few times, as if he hadn’t expected it. Conor kept his face neutral but shit. His knuckles hurt like hell. But he also remembered dad’s advice to defend himself, too, so he brought both fists up in a fighting stance again, ready to deflect Bill’s swing that was surely coming.
There were two quick punches—and the second one connected with his jaw despite his defensive posture, knocking him on his ass. And if he’d thought his hand hurt, his jaw let him know that that was nothing. He knew he had to get up, though. He hadn’t passed out and he wasn’t bleeding profusely. No teeth had been knocked out; no bones were broken. He needed to get up and fight some more. That’s what guys did, right?
As Conor was lifting himself up off the floor, Francis said, “Bill, there’s Kendra and some dude in a suit heading our way. We better get out of here before they get here. Remember that bill we had to pay in Vegas?”
Bill snarled, assessing the now-upright Conor. After a brief face-saving pause, he said, “Guess today’s your lucky day, Hammond. But think about what I said.”
Morgan was holding onto his arm. “Are you okay?”
As the men darted into the stairwell doorway, Conor asked, “What did Bill say that he wants me to think about? I can’t remember.”
“Something moronic, no doubt.”
Kendra and the man in the suit that Francis had warned Bill about before they skedaddled showed up next to them. The woman was not her usual bubbly self, however, and Conor suspected it was because they were ruining her perfect event. “Conor, do you want to tell me exactly what happened?”
“Not particularly.”
Morgan, however, had no qualms about talking. “Bill Bullock was being an absolute pig, commenting crudely about my body, using offensive language, and Conor defended my honor. For that, Bill punched him in the face, knocking him down.”
“Are you okay?”
Conor was rubbing his jaw with his left hand, not that it helped any. He’d nurse the knuckles later. “I’ve been better.”
“Can we get you anything?”
“No. We just need to check out now.”
“You’re planning to stay for lunch, right?”
Morgan stepped in again. “That had been the plan, but it’s all up to Conor. We’ll see how he’s feeling after checking out.”
“Yeah, we’ll be staying.”
Kendra and the man left and then Morgan and Conor walked the rest of the way to their room. The caring, albeit bossy, way Morgan had been acting, he figured they were on better terms, especially now that she knew he wouldn’t put up with that shit from a man acting like a pig, as she’d put it.
But he was wrong.
As soon as the door shut behind them, Morgan asked, “What the fuck were you thinking, Conor? Newsflash: You’re not in sixth grade. No more playground fights with the class bully.”
“Yeah, and what would you have said if I’d just let him trash talk you?”
“I can defend myself, you know.”
“Maybe you don’t realize it, but Bill was challenging my masculinity—even if he was insulting you. You’ll have to take my word for it here, okay?” Morgan rolled her eyes and started opening drawers in the chest of drawers across from the sofa. “We already checked everything. We’re good to go.”
“Yeah, and that’s how I lost my favorite pair of earrings a long time ago. It doesn’t hurt to check one last time.” Conor nodded, trying to be sympathetic, but it wasn’t happening. As the pain subsided ever so slightly, he allowed a foreign emotion to wash over him.
He’d been a tough guy this morning—just once in his life, he’d been a bit of a brute, defending his woman’s honor in hand-to-hand combat. He hadn’t won the fight, but he also hadn’t lost, and so a primal reaction took hold of his brain.
He’d done what any man would have.
“You’re not even gonna ask me how?”
Jolted out of his moment of silent self-praise, Conor asked, “What?”
“How I lost my earrings.”
“Sure. How?”
“I was a kid, and my parents took us on a weekend vacation to the beach. I’d never been in a hotel before, so it was exciting to unpack my entire suitcase to fill the closet and drawers, just like this was my bedroom for the weekend. The morning we had to go, dad kept telling me to pack and, of course, I told him I was working on it. But I forgot to check the drawer by the bed where I’d tossed my earrings, and it wasn’t until we were at our next destination—camping in the mountains with my aunt, uncle, and their kids—that I remembered. Dad said we weren’t going back, and we weren’t heading that way when all was said and done. He said it would teach me a valuable lesson.
“And it did. I triple-check hotel rooms before I check out now.”
“Triple-check? Isn’t that excessive?”
“Maybe…but I haven’t lost anything since.”
“Then have at it.”
Morgan growled, “Like I need your permission.”
Shit. She was still grouchy. Maybe having some lunch, knowing they’d be heading out soon, would help her chill out. If food were the way to a man’s stomach, perhaps it would be the way to a woman’s zen. There was only one way to find out.
* * *
Conor had attended a business conference here and there but determined years ago that they were a huge waste of money and tim
e. Even the networking opportunities didn’t make them profitable ventures. In fact, the only thing that made them worthwhile was that they were business write offs out of town.
But one thing he didn’t understand was why hotels didn’t change check-out times to coordinate with the events they hosted. He understood that people still had to get out so the rooms could be cleaned for the next batch of guests but it was damned inconvenient.
There was no sense in complaining, though. They’d be feeding them one final time—and this would be his last chance to say goodbye to a good many folks he wouldn’t see for another ten years, if he even bothered coming to the next one.
“Hey, guys!” The voice behind them sounded friendly and familiar, but he wasn’t sure who it was until he turned around.
“Hi, Amber. Leaving now or are you sticking around for the rest of the reunion?”
The woman laughed like Conor had just told the funniest joke, throwing her head forward so that her blonde ponytail whipped over her head. Then she straightened her spine and said, “I still live here, remember?”
“Yeah, I forgot.” Morgan gave Amber a polite smile but kept her mouth shut. “Sorry. I know not everyone moved away.”
“That’s cool. But, yes, I’m sticking around till the end.”
“So…if you stayed in a room,” Morgan said, “why are you checking out?”
“My parents. They’re watching my youngest and wanted me to have a ‘vacation,’ so they paid for two nights in the hotel. Anyway, I thought some of talking to the gals running the show to see if they want some help next time.” They took a step closer to the counter. One more person left to check out and then it was their turn. “Not that they did a bad job. It was great! But I thought they might like more help, and it looked like fun.” She lowered her voice and got close to Conor—and Morgan didn’t even bat an eyelash—as if she were revealing a state secret. “And maybe I could get a discount on the cost of this shindig. Know what I mean?”
Conor smiled. “I’m sure they wouldn’t object to more help. When I see what all they arranged here, I can’t imagine the time and effort it took to put it together.”
“For reals.” After a second, she added, “I don’t know if Kendra really likes me, though.”
“What does that have to do with it?”
“Would you want to work with someone you didn’t like?”
He’d only had to do that in a work-study job in college, but it wasn’t a big deal. You went in, got your job done, minded your own business. “Don’t you think we’re past all the petty high school baloney?”
“Maybe, but I’m talking about the way she treats me now. I don’t know. Maybe you’re right.”
If it were Conor, he’d take all the volunteer labor he could get—and, having seen the way Kendra had run around like a chicken with her head cut off, smiles and all, he doubted she’d turn down help. “All you can do is ask.”
Amber nodded and got a little too close for comfort, but Morgan was doing a shitty job of playing jealous fiancée now. At this point, she was just phoning in her performance, biding her time till they left—and Conor didn’t know if pulling her aside and talking with her would help—in fact, he felt certain it would make things worse.
Amber wasn’t trying to horn in that way anyway—at least, Conor didn’t think so. Giggling, she poked him with her elbow and said, “Might want to keep an eye on your wife-to-be, though. Sounds like she’s keeping her old flames close.”
Conor wasn’t quite sure what she meant by that, but he could tell the other woman was fishing for something. She probably doubted the whole ruse, because both Conor and Morgan had turned out to be shitty actors. They were almost through the reunion, so he knew they could make it to the end, but the last thing he wanted was for Amber to continue poking at him. Meanwhile, Morgan looked up from her phone with a bored expression. “Remember? I told you I made it sound like I’d been dating my ex recently and confused the heck out of Amber?” Morgan’s eyes had flared with anger until Amber turned, and then Morgan’s demeanor appeared to be as sweet as could be.
And, yes, he remembered her first night’s screw up.
There was one way to distract Amber—and maybe the same technique would shut Morgan up and keep that nasty look off her face.
Besides, Conor couldn’t resist.
He slid his hand against her cheek until the hair above her ear wrapped around his fingers. The shock in her eyes mingled with a flash of anger, but she didn’t fight him as he pressed his mouth against her warm lips. Her eyes might have shown irritation, but her mouth communicated passion and fire—and little resistance.
Would they ever be able to return to their normal friendship, their boss-employee relationship?
Morgan might find a way to, but Conor would never be able to forget the way her body felt up against his, the way she smelled up close, the way her mouth tasted.
“Can I help you, ma’am?”
As Amber turned to face the registration desk, Morgan pulled herself from his kiss. She gave him a little glare before burying her head in her cell once more. With Amber preoccupied with the front desk, Conor began thinking about Morgan and her ex. She’d called him something sickening like Sexy Rexy, but it hadn’t bothered Conor in the past.
Now, though…the thought of Morgan spending any time with another man, but especially with that sleazeball, made him want to beat the shit out of the guy.
What the hell was wrong with him? He’d thrown a punch and taken two and now all of a sudden he was resolving to end all his conflicts that way?
Well, it came down to one very important fact: Rex didn’t deserve someone like Morgan.
Then again, neither did Conor. And it was probably too damn late to try to convince her otherwise.
* * *
As Morgan created a deluxe ham-and-cheese sandwich with veggies and mustard, she could feel Conor just behind her doing the same thing. What was going through his mind she couldn’t even pretend to know—but she knew what she was thinking. This lunch was her last obligation before she could go back to just being Conor’s assistant.
But she wasn’t sure she wanted to anymore.
Maybe it was true that you couldn’t go home again, and it felt doubly true as far as returning to their old life. She doubted things between them would ever be the same.
Conor had shown her a side of himself that she’d never seen. Yes, she’d known for years that he was a bit of a player and he’d told her he’d been a nerd in school. Those things weren’t surprising or even upsetting, and they made Conor the man he’d become. It was the other qualities, the ones she hadn’t expected, that had her thinking twice about everything. Over the course of the weekend, Conor had been arrogant, brash, and a bit of an asshole, and she wasn’t liking it. And even knowing she had a bit of a double standard in that she might have kind of liked one of her boyfriends being a bit medieval by fighting to save her honor, she hadn’t expected that behavior from Conor. He’d been the one man she’d always known who kept his basest self in check—and yet, this morning, he’d proved her wrong, because he’d let it all out.
The animal out of the cage, so to speak…and it wasn’t pretty.
And she was pretty sure none of these behaviors had been an act. This was the real Conor, one she’d never seen because she’d only spent forty hours a week around the guy before. Once his professional persona dropped, this was the real him—and she didn’t much care for the real man.
As she used the tongs to toss several potato chips on her plate, she wondered if she had it all wrong. Maybe this extended weekend had changed him, and she analyzed that idea as she looked over the giant cookies, trying to decide if she’d take one or skip it. The confrontation with Bill, for example. Conor might not have gotten in fistfights with people over the years since she’d begun working for him, but he had always been a little arrogant, often shown a prick-y side that made him look like an utter jerk. Maybe it had been easier for her to dismiss before becau
se she could go home every night. The more she thought about it, she thought maybe the weekend’s behavior was just Conor’s personality on steroids—and, if she was correct, Morgan believed there would be no turning back. Now that Conor had gotten a taste of his power, he’d never go back to the mellower version of his self.
Which meant she wouldn’t be able to stand him.
She slid over to the drink station and poured a glass of iced tea, aware the whole time that Conor was right behind her. “Where do you want to sit?”
“I don’t care. Wherever. It’s your reunion.” She turned and scoped out the room, immediately regretting her statement. She saw three people she wanted nothing to do with—Raquel, Bill, and Francis, though both men were heading to a corner of the room, trying not to be obvious while making sure they got their money’s worth. Technically, Morgan was still on the clock, so she’d tolerate whatever place Conor chose to sit.
Conor’s eyes seemed to linger on Raquel, and it took everything Morgan had not to say a word. But he let the air out of his lungs and kept looking around, his expression perking up when he saw Steve waving at them to come over. Morgan plastered that same fakey smile on her face as she followed Conor over to their table but, by the time they sat down, the Mona Lisa curve of her lips was as genuine as could be.
Because she had made a decision. As soon as they got back home, Morgan was giving her two weeks’ notice.
Chapter Nineteen
GETTING OUT TO the parking lot proved to be quite an effort, while Conor hugged more people and shook more hands than he had during his entire high school career. And he wasn’t going to say it aloud, but he was keeping an eye out for Raquel. At this point in the proceedings, he knew he didn’t want a woman like her as a partner or even a girlfriend, but the baser part of him deep down inside wanted one last chance to make that determination, to decide if he was one-hundred percent certain. Right now, for some stupid reason, his interactions with her felt unfinished.
There was no Raquel, but he did get to say goodbye to the likes of Amber and Kyra and Denise and Kendra and dozens of other classmates.
Shenanigans (Pretense and Promises Book 2) Page 18
