by Kelsie Rae
“What’s going on?” he repeats softly.
The silence is suffocating.
After a minute, I find my voice. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything,” he responds gruffly. The gritty sound causes goose bumps to pebble across my arms. Or maybe it’s his touch that makes them appear. I guess we’ll never know.
“If your girlfriend invited you out for dinner, and you hadn’t been out together for at least six months, would you go? Or would you use work as an excuse to get out of it? I mean, how often do you think a couple in a relationship should spend time together? Is it a weekly thing? Monthly? Hell, once a year?”
He pulls away ever so slightly, as if he’s taken aback by my questions. As if my words are a physical assault he’s trying to dodge, knowing it could get messy.
“Honestly?” His mesmerizing eyes study me like I’m under a microscope.
I nod, praying he’ll continue.
“Everyone needs their alone time on occasion, but why be with someone if you don’t want to spend time with them? If I were lucky enough to be in a relationship with a girl like you, I’d spend every waking second basking in her presence. Actually, I’m not sure I’d let her out of my sight.” His stare is laser-focused, making me squirm under its intensity. “And not because I don’t trust her, but because I know she’s way out of my league, and at any moment, I’d be terrified she would figure that out.”
I close my eyes tightly as I allow his words to marinate in my soul for a few short seconds. Somehow, he knew exactly what I needed to hear.
“Thank you.” My voice is nothing but a whisper, the hushed words hanging in the air. Slowly, I open my eyes to find Rhett still watching me. It isn’t sexual by any means. It’s just . . . intimate somehow.
His hand is still holding me in place, and when I glance down at his touch, he finally releases me.
“I better go,” I say, tilting my head in the direction of my apartment. “I’m not really hungry anymore, anyway.” My eyes are still a little glassy as I fumble for words. But I do feel better after our little chat. Lighter maybe?
“If you ever need anything, Indie . . . I’m only a few feet away.” His mouth tilts to one side as he watches me walk to my front door, open it, and close it behind me.
His stare never once wavering until I’m home safely.
Never letting me out of his sight.
Last night sucked. I stayed in the same room as Tony for about thirty seconds before throwing in the towel, stripping naked, and taking a hot bath with the door locked. We didn’t say two words to each other the entire evening. And what really frustrates me is that Tony didn’t even notice I was upset. My silence didn’t trip an alarm in his head that said, Hmm . . . maybe Indie’s a little frustrated.
The rational part of my brain recognizes that men aren’t mind readers, and if I wanted him to talk to me, I should have said something.
The irrational part of my brain says that he should have known anyway.
Gah! I take a deep breath before pounding my knuckles into the sticky brioche dough. The smell of yeast and sugar wafts in the air, making my anger a little more palpable. These buns won’t be ready until this afternoon, but I like to stay on top of things. And beating the shit out of something is the perfect kind of therapy.
After kneading the dough for a few more minutes, I fold in some dried cranberries and chopped white chocolate chunks then place the bowl in the proofing drawer so the dough can rise. It’s still early, but the bell rings in the front of the shop announcing a customer.
Quickly, I rinse my hands in the sink before making my way to the counter to find Tony pouring himself a cup of coffee.
“Hey. I’m running late so I don’t have much time, but I was wondering if we’re still going to that cooking thing this weekend? I got a notification on my phone.” He puts the coffee pot back in its place before grabbing said phone and tapping away on it like I’m not even here.
“You still want to go?” I inquire, unable to hide the shock in my voice. Tony glances up at me, his eyes finally taking a second to really look at me for the first time in weeks.
“Of course I want to go. If it’s important to you then it’s important to me.”
I would scoff at the absurdity of his comment if his expression didn’t look so damn sincere.
“Do you mean that?” I ask, feeling vulnerable in our relationship for the first time in years.
Apparently, we’re having a lot of firsts this morning.
Tony takes a step back, acting as if my question is a substantial blow, and shakes his head in disappointment. “Of course I mean that. Indie, we’ve been together for forever. I love you. Remember?”
I let his words settle for a minute.
Do I remember that he loves me?
Has he ever loved me?
“Babe, I have to get going, but we’ll talk about the chef thing tonight or something, okay? I have a big meeting today then I’ll be going out of town for a couple of weeks. Steven wants me to head up a manufacturing issue in China, and I think it’s a great opportunity.” His attention returns to his beloved phone, and I know I’ve lost the old Tony all over again. For the time being, anyway.
He walks out the door without a backward glance, and I’m left alone with my memories as my only company.
Thankfully, Sophie and Natalie arrive minutes later, and I’m grateful for their distraction. Their appearance is a stark reminder that the world is indeed still turning, and that I have other things to worry about other than my failing relationship.
“Why so glum, chum?” Sophie asks, as she slides behind the counter and grabs a fresh apron.
“No reason,” I reply, trying to reassure her as I refill the display cases with more blueberry muffins.
“Uh-uh. I’m gonna have to agree with Soph on this one, Indie. You look down. What’s up?” Natalie follows Sophie’s lead and ties her apron before helping me stock the cronuts.
I still have one in the back for Rhett, just in case he shows up.
I do the same thing for Theresa and her lemon poppy seed muffins, so don’t go judging me!
“I’m fine. Just relationship woes, I guess.” I shrug one shoulder while praying the girls drop it.
“Wanna know how to get over relationship woes?” Sophie asks, clearly oblivious to the I-don’t-want-to-talk-about-it vibes I’m sending their way.
“How?” I question grudgingly.
“You get under someone else.”
My eyes pop at her ludicrous suggestion.
“She’s kidding,” Natalie adds. “But, for real. It’s Friday. Why don’t we go do something tonight? Maybe get a few drinks after work? Looks like you could use some girl time.”
“And we’re the queens of girl time,” Sophie quips. She looks so excited at the prospect of a girls’ night that I feel if I decline their offer, it would be like kicking their puppy.
“Fine. I’ll go, but only for a little while.”
“Eek!” Sophie squeals before jumping around like a lunatic and pulling me into a tight embrace. Natalie laughs in return, and before I know it, I’m sandwiched between both girls in a group hug. It would be awkward if it weren’t so . . . them.
And I kind of love them for it.
Chapter 7
Rhett
“Mr. Sucosky, if you’ll take a look at page seven in the report, you’ll see that by investing in StormShock Enterprises, it’s going to increase their revenue by forty-six percent. Which means that within the year, assuming your profit margin stays the same, it will give you a ninety-six percent return on investment. And within the next three years, you’ll be at approximately three hundred and seven percent.”
He flips through the pages of the projections like a seasoned vet. The guy is known for being a shark in the boardroom, and I’ve personally seen him make grown men cry.
He looks up from the document before placing his laced fingers on the paperwork and staring at me pointedly. “Mr. Jacobs, you’re a well-know
n businessman, and many men that I respect have made a lot of money because of you and your associate.” He nods to Nathan sitting at the conference table next to Anthony, an associate at StormShock Enterprises.
Mr. Sucosky pauses, but I remain silent, holding his stare from across the table. I’m not an idiot. There’s a definite but that’s coming my way in approximately two seconds.
“But, I would like to request an additional quarter of a percent return on my investment as a safety net.”
Anthony leans forward to protest, but I see Nathan calmly place his hand on Anthony’s shoulder, stopping him from screwing up this entire deal.
“I apologize, Mr. Sucosky, but if you respected me as a businessman, then you’d understand that I’m fair in all of my dealings, guaranteeing the perfect business for the perfect investor. My job is to line up the best possible candidates to ensure an agreeable relationship and”—I shoot him an arrogant smirk—“a very lucrative partnership. Thanks to Anthony’s presentation, you’ve seen the client’s game plan for the future and know it’s a sound investment. The contract is non-negotiable. And while I do feel you’re the best candidate, there are many others who would kill for this opportunity. If you’re not interested in this venture, I’m sure we can work together another time. But this particular investment won’t be available for much longer. That much I can also guarantee.”
People might consider him a shark, but he’s nothing but a Beluga Whale in this conference room, and by the look on his face, he just came to the same conclusion.
He clears his throat brusquely before gripping the blue ballpoint pen lying on the table and signing his name across the dotted line.
“Very well. It’s good doing business with you, gentlemen.”
My expression warms as he sets the pen down. “Always a pleasure.”
We shake hands before our receptionist leads him to the elevator.
As soon as the doors close, Anthony jumps from his chair before shouting his triumph.
“Hell yes! We did it!”
I laugh then pat him on the back saying, “We all did it. Congrats, man! You need to celebrate!”
“We all need to celebrate,” Nathan interjects. “Because your success”—he points to Anthony—“is our success. Let’s get some drinks!”
Anthony pulls his cell out and starts typing away on the screen. “Can’t. I need to tell my girlfriend the good news. I’ll see you guys later!” He walks out of the conference room, and Nathan turns his attention to me.
“Well. Looks like it’s you and me.”
I groan. “Man, I’m tired. Let’s go out tomorrow instead.”
I’ve spent way too many hours putting this presentation together to ensure it went off without a hitch. It’s a miracle we pulled it off, especially when that initial investor fell through. Thankfully, we did, and now I want to go home and sleep like the dead for at least twelve hours.
“One drink,” he begs. “I know a place that sells the best burgers too, and it’s only a block from your new apartment. Come on, man. Live a little.”
I roll my eyes before giving him my reluctant agreement.
He had me at burger.
It’s still relatively early as we step inside, but the drinks are already flowing. The bar is more of an Irish pub, and while there are televisions hanging on every wall, the bar is without a doubt the focus of the place. The seating area is pretty small, and every chair is already taken.
Warily, my gaze connects with Nathan’s, and I raise my brows, silently asking if these burgers are really worth the wait.
He gives me an enthusiastic nod, dashing any hopes I had left of heading straight home and sleeping for a week.
As a couple evacuates their seats at the bar, Nathan taps my back and nudges me forward to claim the now-vacant spots.
We both take a seat on the cushioned swivel barstools as the bartender approaches us.
“What can I get ye, lads?” he inquires, his Irish accent lilting.
“Two burgers and a couple of pale ales.” Nathan’s voice miraculously carries throughout the noisy pub. The bartender nods before turning to fill two glasses with the amber liquid.
“You’re paying for my burger,” I grumble as the bartender places an ice-cold mug of beer in front of me.
I tilt my head to him in thanks before picking up the pint and taking a swig.
“No deal,” Nathan answers casually. It takes me a second to figure out what he’s talking about.
“Huh?”
“You’re paying for your own damn burger, along with a drink for your friend over there. Hell, you should probably pay for mine, too.”
He tips his chin to something behind me, and I turn to see what caught his attention.
Ho-ly shit.
Nathan’s right. I’ll be paying for my own burger tonight, and yeah . . . I should probably offer to pay for his too.
I’ve seen beautiful women all over the world. But I’ve never seen someone as breathtaking as the girl behind me.
Slinky black dress, hair loose around her shoulders, and heels that make every inch of her legs look delicious. I’m so focused on my perusal that it takes me a second to realize that I actually know her.
I have to physically shake my head back and forth in order to keep my blood where it belongs instead of rushing south because of the masterpiece in front of me.
A guy in a leather jacket and slicked-back, greasy hair approaches her from behind. He wraps his arms around Indie’s waist, and the possessiveness in that touch feels like a sucker punch to the gut. I watch him drag his lips against her neck, and my fists clench around my glass.
I never would’ve guessed this is what Indie’s boyfriend looks like. For some unfathomable reason, I thought she’d date someone who looked more like me. Someone who wears business suits and has a sexy side smile. One that he saves for her and her alone. Someone who makes her laugh at the drop of a hat, the sound keeping him up at night in hopes of hearing it again.
What I wasn’t expecting was some slimy asshat who bathes in Axe cologne and never washes his hair.
I feel like I’m watching a train wreck, but I can’t turn away when he leans in to kiss her. Her reaction isn’t what I expect. Instead of greeting him like a faithful girlfriend, she shoves him away a second before her face reddens with anger.
Something isn’t right.
I’m off my seat and storming across the linoleum floor before I can consider my actions, my drink already forgotten.
I grab the asshat’s leather jacket at the collar with my left hand, while my other arm is cocked back, ready to hit the bastard. I’m swinging, without asking questions, before I can stop myself.
Definitely not the smartest thing I’ve ever done, but I’m running on pure, uninhibited adrenaline. The need to protect Indie is so fierce that I’m afraid I might throw her over my shoulder and take her to the nearest cave if I can’t get a grip on myself.
The guy’s head whips back from the solid punch I just landed, and he crumples to the floor.
Well . . . that was anticlimactic.
A gasp snatches my attention away from the prone body lying on the floor, and I turn to see Indie’s delicate fingers covering her wide-open mouth in shock.
Her eyes aren’t quite as glassy as before, and I have a feeling my impromptu sucker punch may have sobered her up pretty quickly.
“Are you all right?” My voice is gruff as I take a step toward her. I examine her from head to toe, searching for a scratch, a hair out of place, a wrinkle in her dress, anything that tells me she’s not okay. That she’s not as perfect on the outside as she is on the inside after this mess I’ve inadvertently placed at her feet.
“I’m fine,” she breathes. Her gaze is firmly on my own, silently trying to calm my sizzling temper.
I’m not angry with her. I’m angry with her boyfriend. He touched her when she didn’t want to be touched.
And that isn’t acceptable.
“I’m sorry I kno
cked out your boyfriend,” I apologize, but my tone lacks sincerity.
I’m not sorry. Not in the least. That guy deserved what was coming to him. Hell, he deserves a lot worse for the way his touch seemed to scare her.
“That isn’t my boyfriend.” Indie’s face is flushed, and I’m afraid she’s going to pass out, so I lead her over to the stool next to Nathan. He seems thoroughly entertained by what just went down and simply smirks at the two of us.
The chair swivels as Indie attempts to sit. She nearly slides off the other end before I grab the cushioned seat to keep her in place.
“Whoa there, sunshine. You okay?” She seems a little shaken up, a bit tired, and more than a bit buzzed.
“Mm-hmm,” she hums lazily. The reverberating sound brings my attention to her luscious lips. Shaking my head, I remind myself that she is firmly off-limits. “Just dandy.” Her words are slightly slurred.
Yup. More than buzzed.
The bartender slides her a glass of water before giving me a nod as if to say he approves of my stepping in with her and the guy. I’m grateful he saw the whole situation unfold because if he hadn’t, I’d likely be hauled off to jail for assault.
She drinks the water greedily while her friends hover around her like overprotective hens. Their gazes bounce between each other, their new friend, and the guy who rescued her. Me. Apparently, I’m not the only one a little confused and in need of an explanation.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” the brunette asks while chewing on her lower lip.
“Yeah. What the hell was that?” the blonde adds, looking like she’s about to chase after the jackass and pummel him with her tiny fists.
“I’m fine.” Indie emphasizes the word fine before continuing. “Seriously, I dunno what the hell that was, but it’s over, and I’m okay. I just need an . . . Uber or something? And Advil. Definitely Advil.” She rubs her temples for a few seconds while I contemplate whether I’m going to leave her on her own.
“That’s probably a good idea. I think we should all call it a night,” the brunette agrees, pulling out her cell to find a ride.
