by Holley Trent
Will waved at Paul, who was kitted out in scrubs and wore heavy bags beneath his eyes as accessories. “I could say the same thing about you.”
“Nah, my schedule is fucked, anyway. You’re young, they say. You can work all the shitty shifts, they say.” He scoffed, and put in his coffee order.
When Paul was done and arced back to Will’s spot in line, Will said, “I’m just here for carbohydrates. I need to bribe Sleeping Beauty into staying put for a while.”
Paul nodded as he sipped, then asked, “Feeling anything?”
“Yeah. I don’t think she is, though.”
“I guessed that last night. I didn’t want to ask explicitly. You were neighbors, right?”
“Yeah.”
They moved up the line, and Will told the cashier, “Give me the six chocolate croissants you have left, to go.”
Paul leaned in and whispered, “You think living next door had anything to do with it?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her in twelve years, and when I left, I had no inkling that it was her.”
“But she’s a short circuit. You might not have been able to tell.”
“Good point. Chris seems to be holding out for a fated match, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“No such inclination yourself?”
“To be perfectly honest, I haven’t wanted to give it a whole lot of thought. Maybe I’m too much of a control freak to leave it in the hands of the Fates.”
“It’s good you know that about yourself.”
Paul laughed and gave Will a poke with his elbow. “Don’t blow smoke up my ass. Hey, if you’re not busy tonight, come on down. Maybe we’ll have something other than pizza.”
“You got it.”
Will paid for the pastries, and stepped out onto the sidewalk only to end up face-to-face with Lora, who was wearing her usual prim business attire, but had covered her typically emasculating stare with a pair of dark sunglasses.
“Shit,” she muttered.
He chuckled, and got them out of the way of foot traffic. “I take it you know that I know what you were doing yesterday.”
“Jody is such an asshole. He intentionally pokes at me to get me pissed.”
Will bobbed his eyebrows. There was absolutely no good response to that.
“Lips zipped,” she said.
“Not my business to tell. I’ve got enough of my own to keep under wraps.”
“Good.” She straightened her spine a bit and nudged her sunglasses down to look at him over them. “Now, would you happen to know where Erin is this morning? Jody said she left the trail with you.”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Chef is agitated this morning. I went into the mansion’s kitchen to check on the food we need for a meeting we’re having later, and he nearly bit my head off. He apologized, of course, but I had to ask what his problem was.”
Shit. Will pushed his hair behind his ears and shifted his weight.
“Well?”
“Yes, I know where she is.”
“Is she—nope.” Lora pushed her sunglasses back up and put up her hands. “Don’t tell me. Not my business. Just tell her to kindly inform her parents that she isn’t dead in a ditch somewhere.”
“I suspect they’d prefer her to be dead in a ditch than in some guy’s bed.”
“Knowing what I know about Chef and Mrs. Petersen, I’d say that sounds about right.”
“I’ll let her know to get in touch.”
“Great. Catch up to me later and let me know when you’ll need to speak to the folks at the mansion again. I need to coordinate schedules.”
“Sure.”
She gave him a curt nod, and pulled open the coffee shop door.
He jogged back to his apartment, hoping that Erin hadn’t awakened to find him gone and decided to leave, too.
___
Erin opened one eyelid, then the other, and let her eyes focus on a ceiling that seemed to be too far away to be her own. The texture wasn’t quite right, either. It should have been eggshell and beige. The white ceiling above her was flat white with a metal beam bisecting it.
She sat up slowly and found Will with his back to the wall beside her, tapping the keys on his laptop. He canted his head toward the right and cut his gaze just beyond her.
She followed his gaze down to the floor to the plate set next to the air mattress. “Holy shit.”
“I figured you’d start with two and make your way through the other four as the day goes on. How are you? Hungover at all?”
She closed her eyes, rubbed them, and let out a breath. “No, just a little headachy. Nothing a cup of coffee won’t fix.”
“There’s a pot on the burner. What do you have planned for today?”
Trying to get rid of me already?
Sighing, she scooped up a croissant and nestled beneath the covers again. “Eating this. That’s my plan”
“Ambitious.”
“It’s like what you said about compartmentalizing. I’m going to worry about eating bread, and then in a little while, I’ll worry about something else.”
“Such as bacon?” He chuckled. “There’s some on the counter.”
She sat up again. “You got croissants and went to the store to buy bacon? What time is it?”
“Around nine-thirty, so not as late as you probably feel like it is.”
“Late enough. My parents are probably freaking out.”
“Actually, you might want to let them know you’re okay. I ran into Lora. She said your father was concerned this morning.”
“Goddamn it. Where’s my phone?”
“On the counter with your keys.”
She jogged into the kitchen tenderly clutching her croissant, and snatched up her phone. She turned it on, and didn’t even wait for the messages to catch up to it before she started dialing.
Her father answered on the second ring. “Where the hell are you?”
“I’m fine, Dad.”
“That wasn’t what I asked. Your mother and I have been worried sick.”
The floorboards creaked behind her, and she turned to find Will leaning against the entryway with his arms folded over his chest. No shame in listening in, apparently.
She cleared her throat. “I told you last night not to wait up.”
“Not waiting up is one thing. You didn’t come home at all.”
“You do realize that there will be a point, and probably soon, that I won’t come home at all, right?”
“You always talk about moving out, but we all know you’re just blowing hot air. You’re not ready to live on your own.”
“And whose fault is that? Maybe I would have some inkling of how to do that if you hadn’t kept me sheltered like some delicate flower for all of my life. I don’t know. I think you might need to consult your diary, because you seem to have forgotten how old I am, and that I have the ability to make decisions for myself.”
“You just don’t understand the way the real world works. Listen, we don’t have a problem with you living at home until you get married. That’s never been an issue. It’s just—”
“Wait a damn minute. You think that me getting someone else to take care of me is a prerequisite to my independence? That doesn’t even make sense. Do you really think so little of my intelligence that you’d assume that the only way I could live on my own is if I had some person overseeing my every move like you do?”
“You are way out of line. Come home so we can discuss this like civilized adults.”
“Oh, so now I’m uncivil? Telling me that really makes me want to go home, let me tell you.”
Will ran a hand up the back of her shirt and pressed his palm flat to her spine. “Careful,” he projected.
“Why? It had to be said.”
“And sometimes, saying what needs to be said pushes people to share more than you’re equipped to hear.”
“What do you think he’s holding back?”
“That’s not for me to know.�
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“But you suspect something?”
“We all have skeletons in our closets. Every one of us, and I imagine the Afótama have more than anyone.”
She blew out a frustrated exhalation and gave her ponytail a yank. “I’m busy right now,” she said into the phone. “I’ll swing by at around dinnertime.”
“Busy doing what?” her father asked.
“I’m not answering that, but you could ask yourself why it’s so important that you know what I’m doing every waking moment of the day.” She ended the call, turned off the phone, and with a shaking hand, set the device on the counter.
Will took her hand in his, kissed it, and turned it over to rub her palm. “You’re all right. Don’t feel guilty for speaking your mind.”
“The more I think about the way they act, the weirder it seems. Why are they so clingy?”
“Perhaps because you’re an only child.”
She shook her head. “Nah, that reason doesn’t…feel right. It’s not that.”
“What do you mean it doesn’t feel right?”
She shrugged, nuzzled his hand with her cheek, and sighed at his comforting proximity. No one had ever made her feel so safe just by standing close. “It’s just a gut thing. Probably nothing.”
“Our queen would tell you not to ignore what your gut is telling you.”
Erin turned her taunting phone over so it was facedown and reached for a piece of bacon. “Our queen has a magic gut blessed by the gods. Of course she should listen to it. I’m just a nervous plebe who rarely knows which end is up.”
“You may believe that’s true, but I think you do all right. So…” He leaned his ass against the counter’s edge pointed to a cupboard behind her.
She fetched a coffee mug from it. He knows me too well.
“What are you doing until dinnertime?”
“Probably scouring roommate wanted advertisements and heading down to the temp agency to see what they have open in the next few days.”
“That’ll take you a couple of hours, max. Relax for a while. Enjoy your breakfast and have a pot of coffee or so.”
She laughed and spooned some sugar into the mug. “And then what? Once I’m high on caffeine, are you gonna escort me down to the lobby, tell me you enjoyed my company, and let me know you’ll see me soon?”
“Actually, no. I was going to see if you could hang out here. I’m expecting a furniture delivery. I was hoping you’d oversee it while I revise my questionnaire. I hope to test it on some friendly subjects tomorrow.
“Oh.” So he isn’t rushing me out. Apparently, she was just as good at jumping to conclusions as her father. “What time is it due?”
“The email said sometime between nine a.m. and six p.m.. Possibly a bit later if they get held up by the wolves at the gate.”
She rocked back on her heels and squinted at him. “Six p.m. is a time that could get me in a lot of trouble.”
“I’ll write you an excusal note, if you think it’ll help. Dear Mister and Missus Petersen, Please excuse Erin’s tardiness for supper. She was helping some asshole move into his apartment. Signed, Wouldn’t You Like to Know.”
“Ha. They would like to know. I just bet they’d march right over to your parents’ house and give them an earful about the shameful influence you have on their only child.”
“And my parents would probably shrug, because they already know I’m shameful.”
She gave him a bump with her hip. “You are not.”
“Aren’t I, though?” He pulled her against him and slipped his hands inside the back of her pants. His fingers molded over her ass, and the tips dug into the flesh. “So fucking shameful, and shameless, too.”
She dragged her tongue across her dry lips and turned her chin up to him. His heated gaze dredged up memories of what he’d done to her out on the balcony, and how she’d nearly come apart. She’d let him do that to her, and knew she’d probably do it again, if she had the chance. In daylight, even. Her gripping the railing tight as he yanked her dress up to her waist and thrust into her before she even had a chance to gasp.
“You’re going to get yourself in trouble with thoughts like that,” he whispered.
She groaned softly and closed her eyes. I’m so useless. “It doesn’t seem like such a bad kind of trouble to me.”
He freed his hands, gave her ass a light swat, and pulled his ringing phone from his sweatpants pocket. “Gotta take this. I’ve been trying to schedule a meeting with Maggie Gilisson. She hasn’t gotten completely settled, and is still in Fallon part of the time. I need to get her while I can because she holds the key to a lot of my research.”
“Oh. Better get that, then.”
He accepted the call and left the kitchen in a hurry, likely going in search of his binder.
Erin’s gaze fell to her own phone as she stirred creamer into her coffee. She’d never been so rude to her parents before, but she’d also never been so frustrated with them. Her aggravation would have probably come to a head years ago if she’d been paying more attention to what was happening around her. Everyone she knew had figured out where their lives were going, but Erin felt unplugged, not energized.
In the past day, she’d felt more activated than she had in her entire life. Maybe it was just her pathetic self needing someone to pay attention to her—the kind of attention she craved. Or maybe she’d finally found something she could be interested in for longer than a day or two at a time.
She liked meeting people and talking to them about what made them Afótama. Of course, she’d always known what that meant in general terms, but it hadn’t dawned on her that it might have meant something a bit different to everyone.
If Will would let her, she would love to be the person to talk to the new arrivals—to find out what brought them back and what it was they’d contribute to the web.
If she couldn’t contribute anything herself, she could learn about them and make Will’s research more whole.
“I can actually do that.” She piled some bacon onto a plate along with a banana, grabbed an additional croissant, and carried the dish and her coffee mug back to the bedroom. “Could that be my calling?”
Will set his phone on the floor beside the air mattress and set his computer atop his lap. “Could what be your calling?”
“Helping you.” She set her plate beside the bed and sank onto it beside him. “Need an assistant? I can start immediately.”
His lips moved for a few beats, but no words came out of them, besides an “Umm,” that needed no interpretation.
“I see. Well, I guess it was a bad idea, after all. Forget that I even said anything. Hopefully, I’ll get over this awkward inability to read people sooner than later.”
She wasn’t going to hold her breath.
CHAPTER NINE
Before Erin could scamper away, Will set down his computer and hooked his arm around her waist. She was off-balance enough that getting her onto her belly was no difficult feat.
He sat on her ass and held her arms down to her sides. “Going somewhere?”
“I was trying to get out of your hair.”
“Whatever for?”
“I’m obviously in your way.”
“You are not in my way. If you’re pissed at me because I was too slow to respond, I’m sorry. You were talking to me the same time as Chris.”
She cringed. “Chris?”
“Yeah. He was trying to see if I was here. I guess he’s off today.”
And on top of conversing with Chris, Will had been so stunned by her volunteerism, he couldn’t come up with a quick and suitable reaction. He liked the idea of working with her. Historically in the Afótama, the people in a couple would have complementary occupations and their lives both in and outside of their home would be in sync. The fact she was excited about the prospect pleased him, and it was further proof to him that they were preordained to be together. She hadn’t seemed to have caught any clues to that, and he was starting to wonder if he needed
to plant a few of his own.
She wriggled beneath him and sighed. “I’m sorry for being oversensitive.”
“You have the right to express your feelings. I just ask that you give me a chance to fix whatever I do to upset you.”
He released her hands and straightened out to more evenly distribute his weight along her body. He planted a forearm on either side of her head and dipped his head to skim his lips along the side of her jaw.
“Did I make things awkward?” she asked in a dreamy whisper.
“What makes you think you did?” He pushed her hair back from her face and traced freeform shapes against her cheek.
“Don’t…d-don’t stop touching me.”
“If that’s what you want, fine. But, don’t get distracted.”
“I’m…not.” Her words were slow and slurred as if the alcohol from the previous night had made a second coming in her bloodstream. It hadn’t, of course. It was a result of their increasing psychic entanglement, but apparently, the effects were hitting her harder than him. He couldn’t even begin to speculate on why that might be. “Am I…your friend?” she asked.
You’re a little more than a friend, babe. He ground his cock against her uptilted ass and gave the flesh of her neck a little nip of his teeth. “What do you think?”
“I don’t think. I shouldn’t think.”
Gibberish. He knew he should give her some room so she could think, but at the same time, he wasn’t so eager to give up their physical connection. The Afótama tendency was to touch, not to let go. If doing so could be considered the slightest bit professional, he’d take her with him to work and keep her perched on his lap for easy access.
He wedged his knee between her legs and pushed them farther apart to make room for his dick.
“I don’t think we’re friends.” She wriggled against him and squeezed his rigid shaft between her thighs.
“What are we, then?”
“I don’t know. I should know, but I don’t. I don’t know anything.”
“Then let me tell you what you need to know at this moment.” He pushed off her only to kneel between her legs and work her pants down. Leaving her underwear in place, he massaged the globes of her ass and muttered a grateful prayer to whichever god was in charge of distributing such assets. “You can work with me, if you want to. I would actually like it if you did.”
