by Cindi Madsen
“You mean has our relationship ever gotten in the way of me and another girl?” he asked, turning to fully face me.
I slowly nodded as my heart pounded faster.
“Sure,” he said. “One night I answered your call while I was talking to this chick at the bar, and she was pissed when she heard a female voice on the other end.” An odd sense of pride twisted through me, despite it hardly counting as a win. “And remember Lauren, my high school girlfriend? We had more than one fight about it.”
“You did?” I asked, and he nodded. “Not sure why, but it’s kind of nice to be viewed as competition.”
“That’s the thing, Chels. It’s never a competition when it comes to you. You win.”
My heart swelled and swelled, until it pushed against the bounds of my rib cage. This would be the moment in the romance novel where the hero would kiss me—or, you know, the love interest.
Instead, Liam pushed to his feet and slapped his hands together to rid them of sand. “I’ve gotta go to the gym. Shane and I are working with Finn on his striking so he’ll be ready for next week’s fight. You can come with us, or you can sit and enjoy the sunshine.”
Much longer in the sun and I’d burn, fifty SPF no match for skin I liked to refer to as porcelain, since it sounded much nicer than excessively pale. Part of me craved the buzz of the gym, where I could read to the background noises of gloves hitting bags and feet hitting mats. But that wouldn’t help douse the desire currently coursing through my veins. My attraction to my best friend refused to go away, regardless of the risks and all the proof he only wanted friendship and nothing more. “I…I think I’ll stay for a little while longer and then head home.”
The keys jingled together as Liam dug them out of his pocket and handed them over. “If you need me to pick up anything on my way home, shoot me a text.”
“Thanks.” I flashed a smile at him. “I think I’m set, though.”
“Wine?”
“Well, if you’re going to offer wine…”
Liam did the slow-walk-backward thing, his eyes on me, his footsteps sure even though he didn’t bother checking to see if anything or anyone was around him. His slanted grin made it clear he was showing off, easily executing the maneuver I’d pointed out when we were watching TV the other night. Didn’t he realize that moves like that made it impossible not to swoon? “I’ll text you when I’m on my way home.”
Perfect. That way I could put up my defenses before the wine took them away.
Chapter Eighteen
Chelsea
It’d been one of those weeks where I blinked and it was Thursday, which would be a relief if it didn’t mean that another week with Liam was almost up. He’d been crazy busy with training and extra classes since he’d taken over most of Finn’s. In addition to having a meeting with Brooklyn and Carlos to set up some last-minute advertising for Finn’s fight this weekend, I’d fit in another self-defense class, which had brought me up close and personal with Liam yet again. And again. In spite of the fact that my attraction refused to die, I was handling it better.
In the shower or under my covers mostly, but it at least helped take the edge off. Although the scenarios that played through my head during were probably contrary to my objective, considering they involved Liam ripping open the shower curtain and joining me or opening my bedroom door and tearing off my clothes. One night I imagined him on the other side of the wall, touching himself while he thought of me.
Today I needed to take off a different type of edge while also keeping it. Not sure how that worked, but hopefully today was the day I figured it out.
I’m smart. I have good ideas. I can be assertive.
The drawer on my desk caught, and I jerked it harder, nearly pulling it off the tracks. I grabbed my dwindling stash of Hershey’s kisses and popped one of the chocolate pieces that Liam had bought under false PMS pretenses in my mouth.
My phone chimed, and I hesitated over whether to check it. Kevin had been texting me nonstop, and I was struggling with indecision. There was a very big possibility that the reason I’d never felt the thing with anyone else involved the level of intimacy I shared with Liam. Of course I couldn’t feel as deep emotions for a guy I hardly knew. Even with my college boyfriend I’d kept up a wall, not wanting to let him in all the way, mostly because he came from money and I was embarrassed of my home life. Eventually he’d pried out more about my background and the way I grew up, and while he’d claimed he didn’t care, visits with my parents were beyond uncomfortable.
And then I’d noticed he never fully pulled me into his circle of friends or his life in general, and when the semester ended and he went home for the summer, he didn’t bother trying to keep things going. Or picking them up when he returned the next semester.
But I was doing my best not to let my past get in the way of my future, so I was pushing myself to be more open with Kevin. Thanks to his constant texts and having dinner with him last night, I was getting to know him better, yet during the date, I still just felt anxious to go back home.
I really should stop calling it home.
Thinking I’d send him a quick response before my meeting, I lifted my phone. Only the message wasn’t from Kevin, and the name onscreen sent a zip of electricity up my core.
Liam: Ready for your meeting?
I opened Snapchat, found the silliest filter—one that gave me fuzzy white ears as stars rained down around me—took a pic, and sent it to Liam.
Me: This is my kickass face. Thoughts?
Me: Is it intimidating enough?
Me: Also, to prepare, I’m eating the chocolate you gave me. Thanks again.
Finally, I stopped typing and waited for his response. Sometimes I accidentally overwhelmed him with too much at once, the way I did in real life.
Liam: We might need to work on the kickass face. Think less cuddly, more stony stare. You’ll knock ’em dead.
Me: Like TKO?
Liam: Probably frowned upon if we’re talking about your boss.
I laughed out loud, earning a couple of curious and/or concerned glances.
Me: Note to self: no knocking out the boss. Unless it’s with my brilliant ideas. Boom!
I snapped a quick picture of me giving a thumbs-up and sent it, too.
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Brad heading into the conference room. I liked arriving at meetings a tad early so I could fit in some extra face time, which meant I should get going.
A few steps from the conference room door, my phone vibrated. The picture that greeted me was of Liam and George. My kitty had obviously been woken from a nap and wasn’t happy about it, and Liam was flashing a thumbs-up that made every muscle in his arm stand out, because of course it did. Every single move he made emphasized all those muscles. I swear, women could probably get pregnant just from looking at him—my ovaries were definitely kicking, adding a sensual edge to the full-body flutter that’d claimed me the second I saw the picture.
“Morning, Chelsea,” Brad said. “How are things going with your team?”
“Going well,” I said, and when he seemed to want me to elaborate, I added, “Really, really well.” Shit. That doesn’t sound smart or like I’ve got it all under control. “We’ve gone over a lot of analytics and A/B testing this week, plus did a recap of acceptable CTRs, CROs, CPLs, and basically every other marketing acronym. We’ve also had a few pitch practices.”
Ashlee still wasn’t a team player or playing nicely, but last time she’d attempted to take over, I’d told her I was in charge and would say when we were done with a subject. My face had turned bright red, no doubt, but she’d clamped her lips.
Speaking of… Ashlee stepped into the room as I was reaching for the pitcher and stack of plastic glasses. After flashing Brad a big smile, she circled the table, eyes narrowing when they landed on me, and I instinctively knew this was where she’d try to get her payback.
The pitcher wobbled in my hand, and water sloshed out over the glass and
onto the gleaming cherry wood. Good thing I was in control. I dabbed the spill with napkins, then settled into the seat nearest Brad. Before turning my phone to silent, I sent a quick kissy face emoji to Liam and then placed the screen facedown so it wouldn’t distract me.
Since I’d been participating in these types of meetings for a while, I was fairly used to them. Not that they didn’t still get my heart pumping, and when it came time for me to present, my entire body flushed with heat, testing the bounds of my deodorant.
“We brainstormed a campaign for the new sedan.” Our top automaker client was unveiling the design in a couple months and wanted to make a big splash.
“My idea was to make it super sexy,” Ashlee said. “Make it look like if you drive that car, women will flock to you.”
My mouth dropped open. It was the same pitch I’d shut down. Not only because it was sexist but also because it was tired. I almost hesitated to see if Brad would like the idea, but then I thought of Liam with his thumbs-up and the advice Brooklyn had given me and decided I wouldn’t simply back down and wait. “And I told her that the client wanted something new, not something that’d been done so many times it wouldn’t stand apart from the rest, which is what they specifically requested.”
“Yeah, but we could find a way to make it fresh.”
“And as a team, we did.” I detailed the idea the rest of us had worked on together while Ashlee pouted. After I finished, I pinned her with a steely stare, holding it until she straightened in her chair. With that buoying my confidence, I went ahead and pushed it to the next level. “Ashlee, after the meeting, stick around. You and I need to have a chat.”
She swallowed, and I turned to my boss to double check that it was okay if I used the conference room. But then I thought about Liam again. He wouldn’t ask, so in spite of the side of me that needed to please and smooth everything over, I smiled at my boss and continued to fake-confidence my ass off. “I’d love to hear your feedback, Brad, and then we’ll adjust accordingly.”
As he rattled off his thoughts, I scribbled notes and noticed most of my team doing so as well. Already my head was spinning with ideas, and instead of keeping them there—and since I was riding a high—I went ahead and voiced them.
“So maybe we swap to a more nontraditional family to go along with the idea of standing out.”
“Love it,” he said. “I’d like those changes worked up by Monday.”
A quick nod and he moved to the next item on the agenda. My fingers itched for my phone. More than anything, I wanted to text Liam a dozen messages about how assertive I’d been, and that I’d used his stare, and gah! Once I got home, we were totally going to celebrate.
Then maybe I’ll use that boldness to tell him that I can’t stop thinking about putting my lips on his.
A different type of heat twisted through me. While I’d never actually go through with it, thanks to the many various reasons I’d rehashed until I was sick to death of them, it was fun to dream.
And I had a feeling that tonight when I went to bed, I was totally going to have another dirty dream about my best friend.
“I…I’m sorry,” Ashlee said. “I thought maybe if he heard my idea—”
“There’s a reason I shut it down in our group. I’ve been working with this company for a while and have a pretty good idea of what Brad likes, what the client wants, and what’ll fly in pitch sessions. The reason we have teams is to make us better, not so we can throw each other under the bus during meetings.”
I expected a huff, and for her to give me a look that spoke to plans of retribution, similar to the ones I’d received earlier this week. Instead she blinked back tears and ducked her head, and I suddenly understood Liam’s panic around tears.
Did I continue to act tough?
Did I go give her a hug like everything in me wanted to?
What would a good boss do? None of mine had ever doled out hugs, but maybe that was what was wrong with the corporate world. Something I could change. Coffee first, then hugs all around!
There’d definitely be that one creepy guy who ruined it for everybody. Then someone would roll their eyes about emotional women, and I’d use my self-defense lessons on them and end up with a lawsuit on my hands.
“Can you give me another chance?” Ashlee sniffed. “I really need this job, and I promise I won’t let you down.”
“Of course. This is hardly one strike and you’re out. I get that thanks to our first encounter, you probably think I’m a hot mess.” Presumably, reminding her of the coffee-boob incident wasn’t the best move, but since I’d put it out there already, I’d own it. “But I’m not someone who’ll be pushed around. I deserve a little respect.”
Dang it, I probably should’ve said respect, no “little.”
Ashlee nodded. “I guess I sort of saw that you were the only other woman in the office and automatically viewed you as my competition.”
“We women really need to stop doing that. We could kick ass if we joined forces. Make the guys keep up with us, you know?” I wished I could silence the voice in my head that said she might use that statement as ammo against me. Trust was a tricky thing, and I wasn’t sure my boss would approve of drawing gender battle lines—although with only two women in a group of twenty-two, it sort of seemed like they’d done that already. And seriously, why did she and I inherently view each other as competition? I was far from exempt in that regard. I’d done it to her because she was pretty, because she’d reminded me of mean girls from high school.
“You’re right,” Ashlee said. “It’s just you’re so pretty and—”
“I’m pretty? You’re beautiful. Like, I’d kill for your hair—mine frizzes like crazy in this humidity.”
“Whatever. Yours is so thick and long, and the color is amazing. And you can pull off that red lipstick, which is something I’ve always wanted to try yet never been bold enough to do.”
“Thanks,” I said, and she smiled. “You could totally pull it off, by the way. It’s about finding the right color to go with your undertones.”
“Useful to know. And thank you.”
“So, fresh start?”
“Deal.” We shook hands over the table, which I supposed was almost as good as a hug, and then she left the conference room. As I was gathering my stuff, Brad came in.
“You impressed me today. Both with your pitch and with how you handled the situation with your trainee.”
Funny, hearing her referred to as my trainee. I supposed I outranked her, and I’d basically said as much to her, but I still didn’t feel like a boss. “Thank you. I’ve been working on it.”
“I can see that. Keep it up.”
With that, he walked out of the office, and I finally had the chance to text Liam about my win. And it definitely felt like a TKO.
Chapter Nineteen
Liam
“You’re smiling,” Brooklyn said. “Which means whatever you’re reading on your phone must have something to do with Chelsea.”
I lowered my phone, the gym snapping back into relief after the two whole minutes I’d managed to shut it out and catch up on messages. “You never stop, do you?”
My sister shook her head. “Not going to, either, until you admit you have feelings for her. More-than-friends feelings.”
“I’m proud of her.” Yep, ignoring the more-than-friends comment and plowing right over it. “Our assertive lessons are working, and she’s finally speaking up at her job.”
“Well, she did learn from the best.”
“And next time she needs meddling lessons, I’ll send her to you.” The over-the-top grin I flashed Brooklyn earned me a punch on the shoulder, but she also laughed. I twisted away from her so I’d have an ounce of privacy. Also because it’d drive her crazy.
Me: Knew you could do it. Soon you won’t need me anymore.
Chelsea: As if that could ever happen! Maybe we can celebrate tonight? No cooking, I promise.
Me: Sounds good.
“Th
at’s five,” Finn said as he approached. He lifted his shirt and wiped the sweat from his face. “Are we going again, or are you too tired? FYI, once the tables turn and I’m the one doing the coaching, we’re working on your cardio.”
I’d begged off a few minutes early in the cage, claiming I could use a breather, but really I’d wanted to find out how Chelsea’s meeting went. Not that I was going to admit that to either of my siblings—they were bad enough about trying to play matchmaker as it was. I slipped my phone back inside my gym bag. “What I’m hearing is, you’d like to spar and see how fast I can kick your ass. I’ll even give you five free seconds.”
Finn bounced around on the balls of his feet and shook out his arms. “Bring it.”
We walked through the bigger squared-off area to the raised cage in the corner. Most of the time it was drills, drills, and more drills. With him shedding pounds, I had a good thirty or so on him right now. Since he’d mostly been sparring with people in his own weight class, it’d been a while since he and I squared off. We used to rumble all the time as kids. Usually friendly matches, but occasionally one of us would land a harder-than-sparring-level punch, and all bets were off. Which was one of many reasons I was glad he fought middleweight while I stuck to light heavy.
We signaled for Shane to put five minutes on the clock, and by the time the red numbers lit the board, we had an audience. Team Domination was well known for being a family-owned and -run team, and the Roth name carried a lot of weight. Especially when combined with Dad’s record and the way Finn and I had been moving up the ranks. Sometimes that was a benefit, and sometimes it worked against us. Expectations and biases, simply because of who Dad had beaten or trained back in the day. Who’d left the team when we were struggling and racking up more losses than wins.
The legacy thing had gotten to my head before, and occasionally I let the need to prove people right or wrong fuel me, but I was far more driven by the guys who’d stayed through thick and thin, and I had no problem working my ass off getting them in fighting shape and landing them matches that would help their careers. This gym, this team, was more than our livelihood. Every single member became part of our family, and they looked up to us as coaches, and that also pushed both of us to be better.
