Shenanigans (Pretense and Promises Book 2)

by Jade C. Jamison

  And then Steve and Susan.

  “Man, we can’t go twenty years without seeing each other again.”

  Conor agreed. “You’re right.”

  “I don’t want to insert myself into your lives,” Susan said, touching Morgan’s shoulder (and Morgan didn’t object), “but we’d love to attend your wedding. Now that the kids are older, we can get away with traveling on occasion without them.” Morgan’s face was like granite, even though she made a smile pop up on her face, but surely Susan could read that something was amiss. “Oh, but if you’re doing something small…”

  Conor said, “We’d love to have you guys there. Hell, Steve, I should have you be a groomsman.”

  Steve’s face told Conor all he needed to know—that time and distance had not weakened their friendship at all. “I would be honored.” Morgan nodded, but her acting skills sucked.

  She wasn’t even trying anymore.

  Susan said, “If you guys are ever in our neck of the woods, we’d be happy to have you—anytime.”

  Morgan finally seemed to get with the program. “Where do you guys live?”

  “Florida. Just outside Miami. And I agree with Susan—we’d love to have you anytime.”

  “Same to you both. If you’re ever in Washington, give us a ring.”

  As the two couples began making their way through the lobby, Bill and Francis came near again—and Conor felt his hackles rise. He really didn’t want to get into it again with those guys. Patting Steve on the back, he said, “Safe travels. Are you flying out?”

  “Out of Vegas. We’re driving to Nevada, spending an entire week playing tourist. We’re going to hang in Utah a bit and then we’re checking out the Hoover Dam before hanging in Vegas for a couple of days.”

  “Sounds fun.” The two men shook hands and Susan hugged Morgan, leaving them open to the approach of the terrible twins. Conor readied himself in case he had to bloody his knuckles again, but both men appeared to be calm. When they got closer, though, Bill didn’t approach him; instead, he faced Morgan. “Hey…I wanted to apologize to you.” Unlike his usual brash self, Bill was calm, his voice quiet. “Conor was right. I crossed a line.”

  “I accept your apology. Thank you.”

  Then Bill turned to face Conor. “You, though, man…I oughta knock one of your teeth out, just for good measure.” Conor felt his hackles rise and prepared once more to duke it out, much as he didn’t want to. But then Bill added, “Just messin’ with ya. I had a little too much to drink over this whole shindig, including this morning. I guess I just let it get the best of me.” He stuck out his hand. “No hard feelings?”

  Well…if Morgan could accept their apology after the shitty things they’d said about her, Conor certainly could. “Yeah, okay.”

  Just as he brought his hand closer to Bill’s to shake it, the other man withdrew his. “Gotcha.”

  Still an asshole.

  “Yep. See ya in ten years.”

  Not if Conor could help it.

  Climbing into the rental car a few minutes later, Conor tried not to act disappointed. He’d been able to say goodbye to so many people, but he hadn’t seen Raquel again. As he’d told himself earlier, it wasn’t like he wanted a woman like that as a mate or even a girlfriend, but his baser self wanted one last chance to make that determination.

  Well, there was always Facebook.

  And then it dawned on him…he hadn’t even looked for her at lunch. Maybe she had been there.

  What did that mean? Was it because of Morgan? Had he been too worried about whatever weird thing was happening between him and his assistant that Raquel had been the furthest thing from his mind?

  “What time is our flight?” Morgan asked.

  She already knew the answer. “Not till this evening.”

  “Oh, joy. More time alone with nothing to do.”

  God, she was being a bitch, but maybe he deserved it. He wasn’t so sure anymore. “I want to see my parents one more time before we go. I won’t get to see them again until Thanksgiving.”

  “Fine.”

  The atmosphere in the SUV was thick, like pea soup that has cooled, and as heavy as a lead jacket. Part of Conor wanted to talk, to find out what was eating at Morgan, because he’d thought her mood would improve once they left the reunion and she no longer had to portray his fiancée—but, if anything, her demeanor had soured.

  And, even though the other part of Conor wanted nothing to do with it, the rational side of him prevailed and decided to talk. “What’s wrong, Morgan?” he asked at the stoplight.

  He couldn’t see her face because she was looking out the passenger window. “Nothing.”

  Bullshit. Staring at the red light in front of them, he assessed her attitude. Men might not be outwardly emotional or instinctive creatures, but there was no denying the cold breeze flowing off her. Conor felt like he needed a coat inside the car. “You want to talk?”

  “Not really.”

  Even though he’d never seen Morgan this closed off, he knew better than to pursue it when she’d communicated that she wanted to be left alone, and he understood that anything he said right now would be like gasoline on a fire, one he wasn’t in the mood to try to put it out.

  So let it burn.

  * * *

  “Morgan, I wanted to thank you for helping my Conor stay organized. I know he’s tried his whole life to be able to do that himself, but he’d always get sidetracked by more interesting things.” Conor’s mom held up the pitcher of iced tea, her eyebrows raised in silent question.

  Morgan nodded, letting her know a little more would be fine. The caffeine would help her stay awake until they boarded the plane. “He’s still the same way. In all fairness, though, it’s hard to make a huge mess in his business. But all the files are on his computer, so even when he’s not organized there, we can search and find.”

  Conor said, “I’m not as bad as both of you think, although I have reformed. Morgan set up a solid filing system on our network, so it’s just a matter of me putting things where she expects to find them.”

  “Yes, but let’s just say you get a little creative with your files.”

  “You don’t seem to have any problems finding them.”

  “Only because I’ve gotten to know you so well.” Wow. That was true. Morgan felt like she knew Conor almost as well as she knew her friends. Definitely better than she knew half the guys she’d dated since working for him. That was probably why she’d been so damned disappointed at his behavior over the past few days, leading her to believe that he’d reverted to his real self—and the guy at work was simply an image. “Mrs. Hammond?”

  “Please call me Dale.”

  “Okay, Dale,” Morgan nodded, her finger tracing a pattern in the condensation on the glass. “Conor’s old classmates said you have a crazy sign on your bedroom door, one they all seemed to remember fondly.”

  His mother began laughing. “The old if this trailer’s rocking sign?”

  “Well, yeah, but they hinted that it was a little more suggestive than that.” She tried to recall the exact words they’d used.

  “I know. His father made that stupid thing years ago, but I took it down a while back.”

  “Why, mom? I thought you guys loved it.”

  “No, your dad did. Thought it was funny. And I did, too, but it served its purpose.”

  Morgan brought her glass to her lips, hoping not to give away her thoughts by her expression. Did his mom mean they were no longer interested in sex? Would she herself eventually lose interest due to old age?

  “What purpose, mom? To embarrass the crap out of us kids?”

  His father shouted from the living room, “That was just a fringe benefit.”

  “Thanks, dad.”

  Mrs. Hammond said, “Your dad had all kinds of things in our room, like his gun collection. Even though the guns were locked up, he didn’t want kids getting any bright ideas, like stealing his things to get easy money. He figured if you all pictured
us having sex in there, you’d stay out. After all, if a parent would hang a sign like that on the door, heaven knew what they’d actually do in the room.”

  The giggles started pouring out of Morgan’s mouth slowly at first, but as the joke washed over her, the laughter gained momentum. Soon, his mom and Conor joined in and even his dad started laughing in the other room.

  Wiping tears from her cheeks, Morgan said, “Seems like an awful lot of trouble to go to just to deter teens from looking through your stuff.”

  “Maybe…but it worked.”

  Morgan began laughing again, even harder when she noticed that Conor wasn’t as amused as she.

  His father got up and was walking through the dining room toward the kitchen, but he paused. “Son, tell me what happened to your jaw again. You got in a fight?”

  “Yeah. That happens sometimes, right?”

  “You never did this kind of thing in high school and now, in your thirties, you’re throwing punches. Don’t you think it’s a little late in the game to start doing that?”

  “It didn’t last long because I followed the advice you gave me back then—you know, about how to fight.”

  “Back then. Son, maybe you shouldn’t be going to these reunions if it brings out the kid in you.”

  Conor’s jaw slackened and Morgan had to stifle a belly laugh. Her boss seemed mute.

  “Ed, knock it off. You know he wouldn’t have done it unless absolutely necessary. Conor’s not a fighter.”

  “These guys were always bullies—but it came down to him or me. He was insulting Morgan. I’m not even going to repeat the nasty things he said. I was defending her honor.”

  As much as Morgan didn’t want to back him up today, she felt compelled to set the record straight. “It’s true. The guy was being crass and disgusting—and I can usually take that kind of thing, but Conor asked him to apologize and he refused and told him to take his best shot. So he did.”

  “You would have done the same for me, Ed.”

  Conor’s father shook his head, as if giving up the argument. “Well, at least it looks like you won the fight.”

  “I don’t know about that. But they left. That’s all that matters.”

  “Mama can bandage your wounds if you want, honey.”

  Morgan could tell from Conor’s response—not what he said but the way he said it—that he was probably ready to head back home. “That’s okay, mom. I think I’ll live.”

  He might have been tired of his parents already, but Morgan had enjoyed meeting them—and she knew she was going to miss them…probably a thousand times more than she’d miss Conor after she quit. They would have made great in-laws for real.

  Soon, though, they were at the airport. As usual, it bustled with people and activity, but here they were, stuck in a TSA line. Morgan hadn’t been able to help smiling and hugging Conor’s parents when they’d said goodbye, because they were sweet people who had no idea what an ass their son had become. In fact, Morgan had started to grow quite fond of them, but it had taken every ounce of decorum she had to manage to treat Conor civilly while they’d been there.

  He just didn’t fucking get it.

  Clueless.

  So everywhere they went, she kept her head stuck in her phone, and that managed to help her keep her mouth shut. From the car rental place to the airport shuttle, she’d barely looked at Conor twice. And she thought maybe he’d taken the hint, because he’d barely been talking.

  She was in no mood to chat.

  Finally, they’d made it through all the preliminary stuff and just had to wait to board the plane, but they had two hours to go before their flight. “Why don’t we grab a bite, Mo?”

  Mo. Hmph. Trying to be all buddy-buddy now?

  “Whatever you want.”

  No one said she had to look up from her phone.

  She continued to follow him, her phone in her left hand while pulling her overstuffed bag on the right, her purse draped over her shoulder. As they walked down the tiled space, she smelled roasted coffee beans followed by the smell of baked bread and then a sweet chocolate scent. That was soon replaced by the aroma of barbecue and pizza.

  All that deliciousness, and Conor led her to a sandwich shop. Probably just as well, though, because she didn’t know that she wanted something heavy in her belly before the flight. But when he ordered, he asked first for two glasses of beer. “To start.” Then he asked, “What do you want to eat?”

  “Whatever.”

  “Hmm.”

  “I’ll find us a place to sit.” Maybe then he’d get the hint. She found a small table tightly packed in with a dozen others and realized there was no escape from the general noise of the airport. That was okay, because it wasn’t like she felt like talking anyway. Conor rolled his bag to the table and then went back to the counter. When he returned with a tray full of chips and sandwiches, Morgan made sure her face was still buried in her phone, communicating in no uncertain terms that she wanted nothing to do with conversation.

  But when she got an unexpected text, she spoke when she excused herself to go to the ladies’ room.

  * * *

  Conor was already sick of Morgan’s shitty attitude, but he realized they needed some time away from each other. They’d never spent this much time together in such a short span, and he figured Morgan would do better away. He planned to give her Monday off to recover, hoping she’d be fresh and happy come Tuesday.

  What a strange weekend it had been.

  Maybe she was mad that he hadn’t made any commitments to her, even though they’d slept together twice. But Morgan had flat-out told him not to even go there.

  Then again, women could be fickle. He knew this.

  Taking a long pull on his beer, he looked out of the small, tight restaurant. People wandered past, not whizzing by like frenzied crowds as they would closer to the gates. Here, they hung out, digging in for the long wait before their flight.

  He could relate.

  As he lifted his glass again, his eyes locked with one passenger sauntering past.

  Raquel.

  And her blue eyes met his at the same time his landed on hers. Her face immediately brightened and she and her rolling bag sashayed into the little restaurant.

  At this point, Conor had nothing to lose. If he and Morgan had been on speaking terms, he would have politely wished Raquel a nice flight and said he looked forward to seeing her again in ten years. But Morgan had made it more than clear that there was nothing between them, so Conor had no shackles holding him back.

  He stood, meeting her in a warm embrace. No, she wasn’t Morgan, but the musky floral perfume wafting from her pulse points helped Conor realize she was a port in the storm nonetheless.

  “Imagine meeting you here, sweet Conor Hammond.”

  “I could say the same thing.”

  “Where’s your fiancée?”

  “She had to use the facilities.” Raquel nodded, a cool expression frozen on her face. “You can join us here until your flight.”

  “Oh, no. I’m not about to piss off Maureen. But—” she said, touching Conor’s forearm, “I get the feeling not all’s happy in paradise, so I wanted to make a bit of a proposition.” Conor didn’t know what to say, so he simply raised his eyebrows and opened his ears. “Not all married men are faithful, Conor. I know my husband wasn’t. So I just wanted to let you know that I have lots of time and plenty of frequent flyer miles, okay? And I’d love to see you anytime you feel like it.”

  Conor didn’t even know what to say, but he imagined Morgan showing up right now, pissed off in general, ready to engage Raquel like he had Bill hours earlier.

  As Raquel fished through her purse, she asked, “So what happened to your face?” His knuckles and jaw had stopped throbbing and the swelling had gone down, although there was a general soreness in those areas. He wondered if Raquel found that sexy, unlike Morgan.

  “Bill Bullock.”

  “What happened?”

  “He was being a d
ick, acting like he did twenty years ago, and we got in a bit of a fight.”

  “Ooh. I’m sorry I missed that.” Her lips curled in a smirk, but she looked down, writing on a piece of paper in a tiny notepad. A few seconds later, she ripped the paper off and, after tucking the notepad and pen back in her purse, she slid her fingers into Conor’s palm, pressing the folded paper into his hand. “Here’s my number if you ever want to talk…or anything else.”

  As he watched Raquel’s fine ass sway away from him, he wondered if he’d died and gone to heaven. The ultimate woman—the ideal when he’d been in school—had just propositioned him. Could life ever get any better than this?

  Chapter Twenty

  IN THE PRIVACY of a quiet bathroom stall, Morgan allowed herself to read the text from Rex, her asshole ex…the one who broke up with her because she wore too much red.

  Dick.

  But she couldn’t believe what she was reading now. Hey, Morgan. I wanted you to know this time apart has made me realize how much you mean to me. I miss you. And I want to be your T-Rex again. You were the light of my life, and I don’t care if you wear red 7 days a week. I just need you in my life. I promise to make it all up to you.

  Morgan read and reread his text, confusion washing over her like a steady rain. Last week, would she have given Rex a second chance, maybe one he didn’t deserve?

  But, more than that, did she even love him anymore? Had she ever loved him?

  And what about Sandra, his new girlfriend?

  As much as her emotional side wanted to react immediately, she knew she needed to let her emotions cool so she could think about it rationally. She’d been in touch with her heart all day long, and it had to stop. That was the main reason why she hadn’t been talking—because she couldn’t trust herself to not say something she’d regret later. Even if she quit tomorrow, she’d still need Conor to be a reference—and being a bitch wouldn’t work in her favor.

  She just couldn’t trust herself.

  So, when she exited the bathroom and began walking back to the restaurant, she nearly leapt out of her skin when she saw Raquel. Seeing that greedy man-eating bitch made Morgan immediately forget her higher purpose.