Broken Boundaries

by TC Matson

  She presses her hand to her chest. “Was your friend okay?”

  Care. Fucking care makes her so damn beautiful. “He was. His apartment not so much. They either took it or destroyed it. Wiped him clean. The scariest part of the situation was he had a six-month old baby girl, who thankfully, wasn’t at home, but with her mother. The appetite for security overcame me. I took it as a sign. I studied everything there was about security for months after I received my bachelor’s degree. Took out a loan and here I am today.”

  She melts me with a grin. “Pretty impressive.” The glimmer of astonishment rushes to my chest, tightening it with a pull. “Did you and your father make up?”

  I puff a chuckle. “We did. Unfortunately, he passed away in the thick of the beginning and never got a chance to see the empire I’ve built. LS had a rough start. It struggled to get off the ground, but once I made a name for myself, the company exploded.”

  Sorrow warms her gaze. “I’m sorry to hear that,” she says, her voice tender.

  “I’ve come to grips with it.”

  “Have you ever thought about going world-wide?”

  “I have. There have been times we’ve distributed items overseas, but never contracted out work. I’d have to create a new department, study up on foreign regulations and requirements, and honestly, that doesn’t appeal to me. Not yet. I’m still trying to conquer the states.” I smirk.

  “I can’t wait to see the day you do,” she says, her face lit up with a certain positivity, and it tightens my chest again.

  “Stick around long enough and you will. I guarantee it.” I check the time again. I loathe the idea of her traveling at night by train. Darkness and evil roam the same path. “I’ll take you home.”

  She shakes her head and scrambles to her feet. “No. I’ll be fine. I’m sure you have other things to do, especially since I’ve interrupted you.”

  She’s beautiful in a blunder. “Last time, who won the argument?” I remind her. “Sit. Give me five minutes and we’ll go.”

  Her legs are sexy as fuck against my black leather seats. Tan. Smooth. Delectable. My tongue would have a great time on them. She smells alluring and sweet, like her personality. Her in the passenger seat, so damn close to me… I hate doing this to myself, but I love every damn minute of it.

  “You do plan on sticking around, right?” I ask.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see her nod. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

  I’ve got a hell of a self-esteem, but she just boosted it. I’m smiling like an idiot when I pull up to the entrance of her building.

  She turns to me. “Thank you, again.”

  The impulse to snatch her by the neck and pull her in for a kiss storms me. Every muscle aches to do it. Fighting the urges, I grip the steering wheel tightly and launch a polished grin. “Anytime.”

  Her view dips to my mouth and then she abruptly bolts out of the car.

  An idea bombarded me yesterday in the middle of a meeting.

  Today, I’m executing it.

  My patience chewed through me this morning during a quick “check-up” meeting with the developers of the new T88 panel before arriving at the office.

  She’s sitting at her desk, her hair up, wrapped in a bun. She brightens the office with a yellow shirt and a grin. I can guarantee she doesn’t realize she’s been my only sun lately. Seems she’s a vitamin I need.

  “Good morning,” I say heading straight into my office, not wanting to seem too eager.

  An hour ticks by so damn slowly before she emerges with a coffee refill.

  “What do you have planned for Saturday?” I ask.

  Her beautiful hazel eyes, full of perplexity, blink to me. “Nothing. Why?”

  “I need a plus one.” Technically, it’s not a lie.

  “There’s nothing on your schedule,” she says.

  “This won’t be. You’ve stayed behind as many nights as I have. I’d like to make it up to you with a nice meal.”

  The color drains from her face. “You’ve driven me home those nights. We’re even. No dinner needed.”

  “I want to do this, thus the need to. I’ll pick you up around noon.”

  “Sir, it’s not necessary.” She can’t hide the franticness in her voice.

  “Zoey,” I warn firmly. I knew she’d fight this.

  Her shoulders slouch as discontent takes over her body. “I can’t go on a date with my boss.”

  I clench my jaw against the anger. “What’s the difference between sharing a meal here like we have multiple times versus outside of these walls?”

  She just looks at me, but I can see her thoughts racing, excuses flashing behind her eyes, but no words.

  “Precisely. I won’t light candles, Zoey. I just want to take you for lunch. My way of showing you appreciation.”

  And to get to know her better. Find out what makes her tick. I need to get inside of that head of hers.

  “Noon?” Her voice breaks, squeaking at the end.

  “Yes. And dress casual.”

  I watch the door even after she exits. My grin is triumphant. Small victory or not, it’s a step in the right direction.

  Easton

  I’m leaning against my Audi RS7 when Zoey comes out of her apartment. The sight of her stuns me and snags my breath. She’s in dark jeans, a burgundy shirt with matching heels. Her hair is down, flowing in the wind behind her as she steps. It’s wavy, a style I’ve never seen from her. And it’s beautiful.

  I’m so caught up in the sight of her that I fumble for words, only offering a smile when I open the door.

  “You look good,” I say as I drive off, finally getting my shit back right.

  “I didn’t know what to wear.” Her voice trembles slightly. “Casual means a few different things, but I didn’t think sweatpants and a t-shirt would fit in anywhere Easton Langley walks.”

  I choke on a laugh. “I take that as an insult. Sweatpants and t-shirts are definitely sported at my house where I walk.”

  Playfully, she rolls her eyes and then looks out the window.

  Twenty minutes later, we arrive at Lauder Winery where I lead her in by the small of her back, unobtrusive to the fact I need to feel her.

  Isabella greets us with a bouncing smile. “Mr. Langley. It’s nice to see you again. As you requested, right this way.”

  Thank God, the weather held its shit together and granted my wishes of a beautiful day. The sun isn’t beating us to a crisp and the breeze is warm across our skin.

  I pull out the chair for Zoey, before taking the seat beside her. “Do you like red or white wine?”

  She’s analyzing me like a hawk before slowly replying. “Red.”

  “My usual, Isabella. Please.”

  “Marcy will be serving you today,” she informs me and then hurries inside.

  Zoey looks around our secluded section and then zeroes in on me with an inquiring stare.

  “This is Max’s winery,” I inform her.

  “I figured, but why such a fancy place for a thank you?”

  I grin. “You’re welcome.”

  Marcy steps out of the door with a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon and pours our glasses before asking what we’d like to eat. Zoey’s still scanning the menu.

  “Are you starving or just a little hungry?” I ask.

  Zoey glances over her menu at me. “In the middle.”

  “Two of my usuals, please.” After Marcy leaves, I grin. “You’ve ordered for me. Figured I’d try my hand at it.”

  “This feels like a date,” Zoey states directly.

  I take a sip of my wine before replying. “Does it? I haven’t lit any candles. Although, I did think about flowers, but I have a hunch you don’t like them.”

  She titters. “It’s not the flowers I didn’t like. It was the person behind them, therefore making the flowers unimpressive.”

  I rest back in my seat. “How’s the hamster doing?”

  Her eyes narrow playfully. “Pretend pregnant, ro
lling around in her pretend ball driving the pretend cat insane.”

  I chuckle. “I’ve heard a lot of emergency back out calls, but this one takes the cake.”

  “Exactly. No one calls because their hamster escaped. It’s unexpected, which in turn, as ridiculous as it sounds, makes it more believable.”

  “It’s genius if you ask me. Hopefully, you won’t be receiving a call today.” I flash a charismatic smile. “What are their names?”

  She covers her mouth to hide her laugh but her eyes beam. “Gingersnap, Ricky Bobby, and the cat’s name is Beast.”

  I arch a brow. “You told me you weren’t a cat person.”

  Her giggle spills over my skin. “I’m not. But I can’t help my best friend gave me one. It’s not like I wanted it.”

  I laugh, truly laugh, and it feels damn good to be free with her.

  Marcy brings two plates of Max’s amazing Chicken Fettuccine Alfredo and we eat with only small talk, but as she eats, she loosens up with wine. By the time we finish, she’s working on her second glass.

  Her eyes are brighter, her giggles more liberal.

  “Do you enjoy working with me?” I finish eating and toss my napkin to the table.

  Her eyes slowly shift to me. “This is a trick question. If I say yes, you’ll say I’m brownnosing and you despise that. If I say no, I place my job in jeopardy. Question is, do you like me working for you?”

  I drag my tongue across my teeth and her eyes follow. “I do,” I state simply.

  “Good,” she chirps.

  “You skirted around my question.”

  She shakes her head. “Nope. The answer is in there.”

  “Normally you answer my questions pretty directly,” I say.

  She bounces her finger at me with exuberance. “You listen too well.”

  She’s sexy when flustered.

  I laugh. “Most women beg for a man who listens.”

  “I agree, but most women don’t have you as the one listening.” Her eyes flash wide as her cheeks stain with red.

  “Well, you have my attention now. Elaborate.”

  “I need a glass of water.” She tries averting the conversation.

  I slide my glass of water to her. “It won’t work.”

  “What won’t?”

  “The diversion. I’m not forgetful. I’ll carry what you said with me in the back of my mind.”

  She takes a long ass swallow of water. “I just mean I can’t get one past you.”

  I close my eyes, trying to conceal my laughter. “Even mute…” I flick my gaze to her. “Nothing much gets past me.” I lean closer, looking her directly in the eyes. “Not with you, Zoey.” My voice is heavy with seductive intent.

  She drops her view to her lap.

  “I’m privy to your thoughts, even when you don’t think I’m able. You have a unique way of watching me.” I’m a smug bastard.

  This grabs her attention. Her body tenses as her face crumbles. “That’s not what you think,” she rushes out and it tells me everything I hoped for. “I get lost in my own universe at times. Sometimes it’s black and noiseless. Safe. Other times, I just disappear.”

  I debate if I should press my luck and call her bluff. Black and noiseless doesn’t flush you. Disappearing doesn’t have your eyes heavy with sex. Safe doesn’t have you nibbling on a fucking pen like it’s a dick. And none of that black, noiseless, safe shit makes you look at me with so much lecherous hunger my cock takes notice. But instead, I fight my own lust and don’t delve into it.

  I keep on the same path as her. “There was a tree I used to climb when I was a kid. Back then it felt like a hundred stories up. I’m almost certain it was only fifteen feet tall, but I’d sit on a branch and enjoy the air. Up there it was quiet, tranquil, and far away from the daily truth.”

  It works. Worry wipes clean from her face. “My spot was behind the well house. I’d spend hours looking out into our backyard. We lived in the country. It was peaceful. Sometimes I’d sneak out with a pillow and blanket.” She titters. “It was so worth the tongue lashing I got the next morning.”

  My brows furrow. “You snuck out and got in trouble for being at a well house and not with a boyfriend?”

  “That was only my spot.” Bashfully, she tucks her chin. “I didn’t really date until my junior year in high school. By then, I didn’t need the well house for an escape. I could just drive around and empty my thoughts.”

  “I’m sure you had guys lining up to take you out.” I ease into the territory I’m curious about.

  She sniggers. “Pretty sure your line was much longer than mine. I’m certain I can tell you every boyfriend in a single breath.”

  This both excites me and piques my interest. “One breath?”

  She inhales. “One moved across country for culinary college, another decided after a strong year of dating it was time to inform me of his girlfriend in the next town over, another enjoyed arguing and I didn’t, and the last one sold drugs behind my back.” She sucks in a breath and holds up a finger. “One breath. I told you I attract the winners.”

  My turn to surprise her. I take a breath. “One left me for the quarterback. One ran off with the lead singer of some backyard band, I grew apart from one, and you know about Penelope.”

  Her brows dip low and she frowns. “Four? Puh-lease.” She rolls her eyes. “Easton Langley only had four girlfriends? I don’t believe you. And they left you? You’re lying.”

  “I’m pretty sure I can find their numbers. Would you like to call and verify?” I chuckle. “I think she married the quarterback, although after she left, I didn’t keep tabs on her.”

  She sobers up. “You’re being serious?”

  I nod. “I am. I’ll admit the backyard singer stung a bit. I didn’t see it coming.”

  She waves her hand dismissively and puffs a breath. “I’m sure your dating versus girlfriend list isn’t available in one breath.”

  My sly grin slinks into a straight line. “Big difference between having a good time and exclusivity.”

  The door behind us pushes open and Max comes strutting out, sporting his cocky ass grin. He looks between the two of us. “What’s up, Langley?” He slaps my shoulder and then sticks his hand out to Zoey. “I’m Max. You must be Zoey?”

  “I am. It’s nice to meet you.”

  He slides out a chair across from me and sits, leaning his elbow on the table. “Was everything good?”

  “As usual. Marcy seems to be working out well for you,” I say.

  I catch the suggestive flick of his gaze to Zoey before he smiles. “Seems like it.” His tone deliberate. “How about you, Zoey? Are you enjoying your time?

  Her smile is warm. “I am. You have a beautiful winery.”

  He grins. “Thank you.” Then he raps his knuckles on the table before standing. “I won’t stick around and interrupt you two. Just wanted to make sure everything was good. It’s nice to meet you,” he tells Zoey. “Hope to see you around.” He winks to me and then strides his cocky self back inside.

  “How long have you two been friends?”

  “Sophomore year. Stupid story. All three of us were in detention together. It not only gave us the opportunity to meet, it also bonded us.” I laugh. “Max was in for telling his teacher she was ignorant. Zach was busted for smoking in the bathroom.”

  She studies me. “And you?”

  I chuckle at the memory. “My girlfriend and I were arguing before class. It was ugly. Yelling and snide remarks. I couldn’t focus on the lesson. So fed up and pretty damn angry, I slid my desk across the room, right next to Shannon’s desk and asked her what the fuck was the problem.”

  Zoey drops her face in to her hands laughing. “Oh my God.”

  “Apparently teachers aren’t too happy when you disrupt their class,” I quip.

  “Did you ever get your answer?”

  “Oh yeah. The whole damn class did. She wasn’t very quiet when she proudly shouted she was fucking the quarterback as I was
carting my ass to detention.”

  Her jaw slacks before she recoups. “But you gained two good friends. Seems it worked out well in the end.” Her optimism makes her lips look sexier.

  I rip my stare from her mouth and nod. “It did.”

  The salaciousness heating her eyes speaks loudly, but suddenly she jerks to her feet. “I need to get going.”

  “Alright,” I respond. Disappointment fills me. I stand. “Let’s go.”

  She rushes off. I know we’re both fighting off our attraction, desperate not to give in. I’m determined to break her because I want the fuck in.

  She sits motionless as we head back to her place.

  “You good?” I ask.

  “Yeah,” she sounds small.

  I pull up to her apartments. “Can I walk you in?”

  “No. I’m good,” she says quickly climbing out of the car in the middle of the parking lot. “Thank you for lunch. I had a really good time.” Anxiousness laces the skin on her face.

  “I did too,” I say. “I’ll see you Wednesday.” That sucked to say.

  She blinks. Sadness dulling her smile. “Yeah. Be safe.”

  I’m smirking because her reaction fuels me.

  Zoey

  I’m barely able to look at Easton. There’s reluctance in my steps to him. Why? Because at our lunch, the impulse to kiss him was intense. More so when he stared at my mouth and I swore for a moment, he felt the same way. I’m an idiot to think it. I know, but I can’t control the fantasies.

  The phone rings and when I answer, a woman is crying on the other end.

  “Is Easton in?”

  Inwardly, I groan. “He is, but I’m sorry, he’s on another call. Can I take a message?”

  “This is Faith. I’m sure he’s talked about me. We’ve been together for several months now.”

  I’m sure since she feels the need to inform me…

  “Anyway, I’ll wait. He told me to call him today,” she continues.

  “Maybe he meant on his cell phone. That’s normally where he takes his personal calls,” I say, my tone heavy with frustrated sarcasm.