by Kelsie Rae
“You don’t need to call an Uber. I’ll make sure you get home okay,” I interject.
“You don’t have to. I’m a big girl.” Indie attempts to jump off her seat, but I catch her before she can fall on her ass.
“I know you’re a big girl, but I live across the hall from you. It isn’t that big of a deal for me to make sure you make it home okay.”
“I can take it from here, Batman,” she quips, shrugging off my gentle hold. Reluctantly, I let her.
“Batman?” I ask as I quirk my brow.
She dramatically slaps her hand against her heart in mock sincerity. “My hero! You saved me!”
I roll my eyes. “Fine. I’ll be Batman, but that means I get to make sure you get home safely. Superheroes don’t let girls walk home alone.” My gaze connects with Indie’s friends. “And that includes you ladies too.”
“I can take them home,” Nathan pipes in, his eyes lighting up with mischief as he nods his chin to the girls.
I’m a little afraid he won’t be able to keep it in his pants, and I’m not entirely comfortable with him having a one-night stand with one of Indie’s friends. The situation screams trouble, and I’ve had enough of that for one night.
“Hold up.” The dark-haired girl raises her index finger, motioning for us to give her a second while staring right at me. “Are you sure you aren’t her boyfriend?”
“Positive,” Indie answers for me. “I thought I already told you that the other day?” Her face scrunches as she tries to remember if she did, in fact, tell the raven-haired girl we aren’t dating. The alcohol seems to be making her memories fuzzy, and I find her hilariously charming.
“Was he your boyfriend?” the blonde asks, grabbing Indie’s attention as she motions to the exit where the dumbass was recently thrown out.
“Nope,” Indie says, pressing the palm of her hand against her forehead to keep the room from spinning.
“Then where the hell is your boyfriend?” Nathan asks the same question that has been on the tip of my tongue since she revealed he isn’t here tonight.
Indie yawns loudly as she answers, “Work, probably. I dunno.” She shrugs before clumsily walking to the door, effectively ending our conversation. You’d think we were on a cruise ship with the way her body is swaying.
“How much did she have to drink?” I ask her friends as we all watch Indie’s pathetic attempt to leave the premises.
“Apparently, too much. I’m Natalie, by the way. I don’t think we’ve officially been introduced.” She lifts her hand for me to shake, and I politely take it.
“Rhett Jacobs. I’m Indie’s neighbor. It’s nice to meet you.”
“I’m Sophie,” the blonde adds.
“Nice to meet you.” I shake her hand as well before returning my attention to Indie. She’s leaning against the jukebox in the corner, distracted by the flashing lights and looking absolutely exhausted.
Natalie follows my gaze. “I think she had a fight with her boyfriend earlier, but I’m not sure. She didn’t really tell us much. Just said something about being miserably comfortable?” She tilts her head to the side while trying to remember the exact words Indie used before she gives up and continues. “I dunno. I just feel bad things got so out of hand. She’s going to have a killer hangover tomorrow.” Natalie scrunches her nose in distaste like she’s remembering some nasty hangovers from her past, and I don’t blame her.
Hangovers are the worst.
“Yeah,” I agree. “I’ll be sure to get her home safe. Thanks for watching out for her. Are you guys okay with Nathan taking you home?”
My brotherly instinct is in full effect as I watch their expressions. Natalie barely glances at Nathan while Sophie’s practically drooling.
Please don’t be a dumbass, Nathan.
“I’m definitely okay with that,” Sophie quips, licking her lips and confirming my suspicion that she’s had a few drinks too. Nathan’s Cheshire grin is on full display as he guides the girls to his car without so much as a, “See ya later.” I curse under my breath as I watch them all leave through the exit before making my way over to Indie.
“All right, sunshine. Let’s get you home, okay?”
She nods her response before wrapping her arm around my waist and nuzzling into my chest.
“I’m tired,” she murmurs, resting her head against my shoulder and sighing in contentment. The televisions and crowded bar create a gentle hum as I give her a break for a minute. Looking down, I see her eyes closing.
I give her a few minutes to soak up the comfortable silence encompassing us before urging her to the exit. She’s going to fall asleep soon. “Come on, Indie. Let’s get you home and into bed.”
Carefully, I grip her hands and unwind them from my torso before wrapping them around my bicep so she has something to hold on to. She rests her head against my shoulder and allows me to lead her outside.
When the cool breeze hits us, Indie surprises me by continuing our conversation from inside.
“A bed isn’t going to fix my exhaustion, Rhett.” She sighs in defeat as her heels tap against the pavement. It’s still early, and the city is alive with bustling taxies, distant honking, and crowds of people hurrying to their random destinations.
I pause on the corner by our building. “What do you mean, sunshine?”
I look down at her. Her eyes are closed peacefully, again, and the majority of her weight is leaning into my side. Gingerly, I wrap my arm around her waist in case her legs give out and she collapses from sheer exhaustion.
“I mean, I’m tired of being comfortable in an unhappy relationship.” She opens her eyes and looks at me through her thick, blonde lashes covered in dark mascara. Her makeup is slightly smudged, but she’s still gorgeous. The deep indigo of her eyes could be weaponized to bring any man to his knees. She has no idea of the power she wields.
“My mom keeps telling me that it’s normal, ya know? It’s normal to be unhappy. I mean, she doesn’t come out and say that, but I can read between the lines. What the hell does that even mean, anyway?” She scoffs. “I keep waiting to be happy. I keep trying to try. Does that make sense?” Indie looks at me like I’m the man with all the answers. I have no clue what to say. “But I don’t want to try. And neither does he. Tony might think he wants to, but at the end of the day, I’m not worth it. Our relationship isn’t worth it. And if neither of us wants this anymore, why the hell are we still together?” She shakes her head angrily. “I’ll tell you why . . . we’re comfortable. Ya know? We’ve known each other for so long and have been together for so long . . . that we don’t know any other way. We’re comfortable being mis—” She stops abruptly. And pukes all over the sidewalk. The contents of her stomach splash against the cement as I guide her to a garbage can and proceed to hold her hair in a makeshift ponytail until she’s finished.
“Ugh,” she groans before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, ignoring the mascara that’s running down her cheeks.
“Why did I drink so much? This is terrible. I want to go home.” Indie drops her forehead to my chest, and I finally give in to my instincts. I sweep one arm beneath her legs and the other around her back so I can lift her and carry her into our building. Her slender arms wrap around my neck, and she lets out a tiny sigh as I step onto the elevator.
When we make it to her door, I debate whether I should put her down and search for a key, or pray that her boyfriend is home and can take care of her from here.
My eyes scan her unconscious face, and I decide to take a chance on the boyfriend. Hell, I’m already getting way too attached to this girl. I could use a stark reminder that she’s unavailable.
Softly, I tap my loafers against the door in an unconventional knock, waiting to see if said boyfriend will answer.
By some miracle, the door opens, and the breath catches in my throat.
“Anthony?”
“Hey, man, what’s up?” My presence surprises him, and it takes him a second to realize I have his unconscio
us girlfriend in my arms.
“What the hell?” Anthony asks accusingly. Concern is written all over his face as he examines her for injuries then gestures for me to hand her over.
She’s taken from my arms by the guy who deserves to hold her, and I feel the loss immediately. Like a deep ache that medicine can’t cure. The feeling is unexpected and quickly followed by guilt.
Anthony’s a good guy. He’s one of the reasons my firm moved me here. Hell, he’s the reason Nathan and I were celebrating tonight.
Shit.
Why the hell was Indie out with friends instead of celebrating with Anthony?
“Are you cheating on her?” The question slips past my lips before I can stop it. I’ve never been one to shy away from confrontation. I prefer to face things head on, but even I’m surprised by my brash inquiry.
“What?” His face morphs from shock to pure outrage in the blink of an eye.
“Who the hell do you think you are? And what were you doing with my girlfriend on a Friday night? You said you were going to go celebrate with Nathan. Is this how you celebrate?” His chin tips down, pointing to Indie in his arms. “Is this why she wasn’t answering her cell? ’Cause she was busy?” He spits the last word. My hackles rise to the bait.
Anger courses through my veins, but I try to rein it in. After all, it isn’t my job to defend Indie’s virtue. It’s her boyfriend’s.
I choose my next words carefully. “Anthony. I’m your new neighbor.” I point to my door across the hall. “I’ve met Indie a few times and saw her at the bar where she was borderline sexually assaulted.” That might sound dramatic, but when a guy touches a girl without her permission, it’s sexual assault. Plain and simple. “I stepped in, helped her out, and brought her home. That’s it.” By the time I finish, Anthony’s face is stark white, and his eyes are open wide in shock.
“Shit,” he murmurs under his breath. “I’m sorry, man. I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just been a long day, that’s all.”
I’m still pissed at his assumption, but I try to let it go. Hell, we work together, so I need to let it go.
“It’s fine.” My voice is tight. My words are short. “Make sure she gets some pain killers and drinks a lot of water. Her hangover is going to be a bitch.”
Turning on my heel, I head across the hall with my back ramrod straight.
I’m not supposed to like this girl. She isn’t supposed to open up to me about her rocky relationship. And I sure as hell shouldn’t know her boyfriend.
What are the odds?
As soon as the door closes behind me, I let out a soft curse as I head to my bedroom, pull off my clothes, and collapse on my bed.
I spend the next few hours tossing and turning. My mind keeps returning to the blonde bombshell who’s exhausted by her relationship. But there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
Chapter 8
Indie
My head is pounding. Pretty sure I can feel my heartbeat through every rhythmic throb, and it sucks a big fat one. My mouth is drier than the Mojave Desert and tastes like stinky cheese. To be fair, I’ve never had stinky cheese, but I’m pretty confident it tastes like a garbage can, which is the exact flavor in my mouth right now. Yuck.
Groaning, I roll onto my side and am greeted with a glass of water and blessed painkillers on the nightstand.
Hallelujah.
Greedily, I drink the cool liquid before swallowing the drugs and praying they’ll kick in within the next thirty seconds. Please, please, please.
My body feels like it’s been filled with slurry concrete as I lay my pulsing skull back onto the pillow.
“Hey.” Tony’s smooth voice sounds from across the room, but my eyes hurt too much to open them.
He isn’t one for waking me up in the morning. Actually, I’m pretty sure I never see him at home on Saturdays. Period. He’s always playing catch-up from earlier in the week.
Instead of answering, I shake my head, burrowing deeper into the pillows and sheets, while ignoring him completely.
He chuckles, and the sound warms me in an almost unfamiliar way. It’s been far too long since I’ve heard it. It reminds me of mud pies in my parents’ backyard and summer barbeques when we were little.
Footsteps make their way to the bed. The mattress dips when he sits on the edge and causes me to roll closer to his thigh.
“Hey,” he repeats. All I can do is groan. He chuckles again, giving me a strong sense of deja vu from thirty seconds ago. “How are you feeling?”
Another groan.
“That good, huh? Anything I can do to help?”
I shake my head with my eyes squeezed shut.
“All right then. I have some things I want to talk to you about. Some really good news, actually. Why don’t you go shower and we can chat?”
I shake my head again.
I seem to be doing that a lot today.
“I made bacon,” he coaxes before standing and heading to the door. Tony knows that’s my kryptonite, and come hell or high water, I’ll be there in ten minutes.
Bastard.
I’m a sucker for bacon. Or any form of pig, for that matter. Honey-baked ham is also a favorite of mine, but I usually save it for the holidays.
I’m still a bag of concrete for seven of the ten minutes. After an internal pep talk, I dig deep and somehow find the strength to get my butt out of bed and into the kitchen. A shower can wait. I really need some food, and bacon seems like the perfect cure for this damn hangover. My stomach is rolling.
Gingerly, I sit on the chair at the table before resting my elbows on the top and holding my head in my hands. My hair is a tangled curtain of messy waves as I pray for the bacon to magically appear in front of me.
Tony slides a plate beneath my nose, and the smell hits me like a wrecking ball. Greedily, I grab a piece and begin nibbling on the crumbly edge.
“It’s been a while since we had breakfast together,” Tony notes before handing me a glass of orange juice. I take a sip and enjoy the tart flavor that explodes on my taste buds.
“Yeah. It really has.” My voice sounds like I recently gargled glass, so I take another drink to clear my throat.
“I actually need to be going in the next few minutes.” His comment brings my attention to him and makes me take notice of his business attire. I snort softly as my fried brain pieces together the fact that I’m so used to seeing him in a suit, I had almost assumed he slept in them. Giggles bubble up, and I can’t contain them, confirming my suspicion that I might still be a little drunk from last night.
Oops.
“Of course you do.” I laugh sardonically.
His brows are pinched in concern as he watches me from across the table.
“Yeah. We landed a huge investor yesterday, and I wanted to tell you all about it last night, but you weren’t answering your phone.” He looks pointedly at me, making me feel like I’m in the doghouse.
“Oh.” I pause. “I went out for drinks with Sophie and Natalie, the two new girls I hired.”
“What happened to Rona?”
“She had her baby.”
“She was pregnant?”
Seriously?
“Yup.” My face scrunches. “Remember, you were supposed to come to her baby shower with me, but you ended up taking that trip to California?”
“I must have forgotten. Work’s been so crazy that I don’t recall if you did or not. Regardless, that’s great you hired some new girls. I hope it works out for you.” He’s always been so supportive with Get Baked, so his comments don’t surprise me. But him taking an interest in it? That is new, and I appreciate his sincerity.
“Thanks,” I respond, finally feeling the effects of the painkillers as I crunch on some more crispy bacon. “And I’m sorry I didn’t answer my cell. I know it’s no excuse, but I wasn’t really planning on hearing from you. You usually work late, and I assumed last night wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary.”
Tony nods in agreement like my act
ions are completely understandable.
We stopped fighting about his late nights years ago. Now it’s just par for the course.
“I get that. I should’ve warned you beforehand, but you don’t usually go out Friday nights so . . . .”
I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know or care what the hell I do on Friday nights, so I decide to make him sweat a little by not giving him an answer.
I shrug noncommittally before taking another drink from my half-empty glass of orange juice.
“How are you feeling? I heard about what happened. Are you okay?”
His comment doesn’t compute, so I continue with my shrugging and munching, only partially feeling guilty for my childish behavior. My head hurts too much to try to understand what he’s talking about.
“Anyway,” he continues, “the pitch went great. Steve’s happy with all the work I’ve been putting in and offered a promotion. It’s going to take a little more of my time, but I’m so close to becoming VP I can feel it.” His voice oozes enthusiasm while his eyes glow with excitement.
I, on the other hand, feel nothing but resentment. Him having to spend more time at work is like a sucker punch to the face.
Oh my hell! Rhett sucker punched a guy.
And I was kind of, sort of, assaulted. That’s what Tony was talking about a minute ago.
“How did I get home last night?” I screech, feeling panicked as memories start to hit me from all sides.
Shit.
Did Rhett really bring me home? Did I really tell him all those things about my relationship with Tony? Did he really carry me to my apartment? Did I really nuzzle him and his heavenly muscular chest?
I groan before weaving my fingers through my hair and digging my fingernails into my scalp in frustration.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“What?” Tony asks. He looks completely and utterly flabbergasted.
“I tell you that I finally got some recognition from my boss, and all you have to say is, ‘How did I get home last night?’” Now it’s his turn to look like he was sucker punched. “Indie, I’ve been working so damn hard for this, but you brushed my news aside like it was no big deal.”
