A Co-Worker's Crush

by Piper Rayne

  “Now I have to go in the shower with you, okay?” I don’t trust her not to slip and fall.

  “Sure.” She turns around and her arms move over my shoulders, then she breathes right in my face and I gag. She covers her mouth. “Sorry.”

  I hate her being apologetic right now. She has no idea what it’s like to be taken care of and I kind of like that I’m the one who gets to do it. And it has nothing to do with her being naked right now.

  I step into the shower first, holding her up, and get her under the stream of water. I’m not sure if it’s the fresh water or what, but she seems more alert after I rinse all the vomit off of her, so I can wash her hair. She sighs as I work Kamea’s shampoo through her hair then condition it. But I lather up her body with my soap because I wouldn’t mind her smelling me on herself, as sick as that probably is. I avoid all her sexual parts because I don’t want her looking back on this and thinking I did it for some cheap thrill.

  Once she’s all cleaned up, she looks as though it took every ounce of energy she had to take a shower. So I guide her to step out and hold on to the towel rack until I can step out. After grabbing a new towel from under the sink, I wrap her in it and pick her up to carry her to my room.

  I lay her on my bed and grab two shirts and pairs of shorts—one for me and one for her. But when I turn toward the bed and see her lying there, I’m struck, as though she’s supposed to be there, like she belongs.

  Gumdrop jumps at my legs, but I can’t take my eyes off of her. She’s so beautiful and she deserves someone she can be like this with. Someone who will take care of her, not hurt her. Someone to share the burdens of everyday life with. A possessiveness spurs inside me, urging me to be that person.

  I shake my head. “What the fuck am I even thinking?”

  I dress her in my shirt and shorts, doing what I can not to look at her. I sit her up long enough to comb out her hair, then I put her to sleep on her side, tucking her into my bed. Picking up Gumdrop, I take him out to the living room and dress in the second pair of shorts and T-shirt I pulled out. Then I clean up everything before taking her clothes downstairs to the laundry room in the basement.

  She’s still passed out as I pull Gumdrop into my lap on the chair in the corner of my room and watch her to make sure she doesn’t roll over. For the first time in my life, I think about what sharing a life with someone would be like, coming home to a woman like Frankie every night. It looks really nice in my crystal ball. Like something I might enjoy. And that thought terrifies me.

  I’m drinking coffee the next morning while attempting to teach Gumdrop how to sit, using mini treats that wouldn’t get me to sit on my ass for anyone, when Frankie makes an appearance. Damn, she looks better than I do in my clothes.

  “So it wasn’t a dream,” she says.

  “Did you see the aspirin and water I put on the nightstand?”

  She nods and sits down next to me. “I just talked to Sandy. Thank you for calling her last night, and thanks for taking care of me.”

  I nod. “You’re welcome. It happens.”

  She falls forward, her head in her hands. “I’ve never been more embarrassed.”

  I hold the treat for Gumdrop and nudge his butt down, then I give him a treat. “Surely you’ve been more embarrassed than just throwing up on someone.”

  She side-glances me and shakes her head.

  “Then you need to get out more. Do more crazy shit,” I say.

  “I have a five-year-old. Getting drunk at a game night might be my limit of crazy shit. And now I will kindly refuse any other invitations.”

  I knock my shoulder with hers. “No, you won’t. We’ve all had nights like that.” I hold up the treat and again Gumdrop stares at me as if he has no idea what to do. I nudge his ass down again, say “Sit,” then give him the treat.

  Frankie laughs next to me. “I’d like him to stop chewing things and peeing everywhere before we get him to sit.”

  “He’ll get there.” I pick him up and pet him, giving him a break.

  Frankie slides closer, and I smell my soap on her when she pets Gumdrop. Knowing my scent is on her brings some latent caveman tendency to the surface, making my dick twitch.

  “You’re really good with him,” she says.

  “Well, someone said he was half my responsibility. I can’t have an asshole for a dog.”

  She laughs and why does it sound so different than it did weeks ago? Why is there an urge inside me to make her laugh again?

  “I should get going.” She pets Gumdrop one more time and stands.

  “Your clothes are on the chair in my room.”

  I don’t look to see her reaction, but she sighs. “You didn’t have to wash them, but thank you so much.”

  “No problem,” I mumble.

  A second later, my bedroom door shuts.

  Get yourself together, Jax. This isn’t anything but a friendship forming. I’m not catching feelings. It’s just the tornado we’re in that keeps throwing us together. That has to be all it is—because if I have feelings for Frankie and I fuck it up, my entire life here in Cliffton Heights will be blown to smithereens.

  She walks out of the bedroom a little later, dressed in her own clothes. “Do you want me to take Gumdrop?”

  I shake my head. “Mind if I keep him for the day? I mean, if Jolie—”

  “She’ll be fine.”

  “I’ll drop him off tonight.”

  “Sure.” She opens the apartment door and stands in the hallway.

  Blanca and Ethan walk past, and they’re nice enough not to say anything to Frankie about her drunken incident last night.

  “RSVPs, peeps!” Blanca points at both of us before they continue to the stairs. Those two always seem to be in a rush.

  “I forgot about that,” Frankie says.

  “Me too.”

  “Maybe I’ll take Lyle as my plus one. At least that way I’ll have a date, but I won’t have to worry about shaving my legs or anything.”

  I stretch my arms on the doorframe, chuckling until the memory of slipping her panties down her clean-shaven legs last night comes to mind.

  “Yeah, I don’t want to shave either, so how about…” I am a complete moron for doing this. It’s only asking for trouble. “We go together. Saves Blanca and Ethan money.”

  “True, that would mean two place settings they wouldn’t have to pay for,” she says. “And you don’t have to shave your legs.”

  “Yeah, I hate shaving.” I pretend to run a hand down my hairy leg. “What do you say?”

  She nods. “Sure. But I won’t be drinking much. There will be no replay of last night.”

  “I kind of liked you all vulnerable and free,” I say, my feelings slipping out like an idiot.

  “Says the man who had to clean up my vomit. Did you shower me?” She lifts her arm to smell the back of her hand. “I smell like you.”

  “I didn’t mind.”

  “Still… thank you.” She steps back to leave, and I realize that I want to beg her to stay.

  “You’re welcome… again.”

  She smiles. Damn, she’s gorgeous without makeup and her hair not done. “Bye.” She waves and turns, but before she walks down the hallway to the elevator, she spins back around. “Jax?”

  I lower my hands from the doorframe. “Yeah?”

  “I think you underestimate yourself. You’d make someone really happy. Behind that commitment-phobe is a really good guy.”

  Before I can respond, she walks away. I hear the elevator ding its arrival, and I shut the door and close my eyes. Is this what’s happened to all my friends? It can’t be. I’m the foster kid whose perspective on life and love was screwed up from the beginning.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Frankie

  * * *

  A knock sounds on our apartment door and Jolie runs down the hall from her bedroom.

  “Hold on.” I wipe my hands on the dishcloth and look through the peephole since no one buzzed up. It’s Jax with
Gumdrop. I open the door.

  “Jax!” Jolie yells and runs right into his legs.

  “Hey.” He looks at me as he pats her back.

  “Let him in,” I tell Jolie and she steps back, allowing him space to come in with Gumdrop.

  He sets the dog on the floor, and Jolie follows Gumdrop as he gets reacquainted with all his stuff at our place.

  “Something smells good,” Jax says.

  “Just spaghetti, nothing fancy.” I head back into the kitchen to stir the sauce. “You’re welcome to stay.”

  “Yeah, stay, Jax,” Jolie says.

  I knew she would. She loves Jax so much it scares me that I’m setting us all up for failure. But having a positive male role model in her life can’t be a bad thing, right?

  In the past week since I threw up on him, things between us have felt different. We’re nicer to one another and are having conversations without the constant digs on one another.

  “Are you sure you have enough?” he asks.

  “Yeah, I made a whole box and it’s only us.”

  He comes into the kitchen, taking off his coat, and washes his hands. “Well then, put me to work.”

  I push him out of the kitchen. “Nope. I’ve got this. Consider it payback for last night.”

  “Stop feeling bad about that. You would’ve done the same for me.” He sits at our small table. “Jolie, come here.” She runs over to him and he hands her a small bag of treats. “Ask Gumdrop to sit.”

  She turns to find Gumdrop right behind her. “Sit, Gumdrop.”

  He actually does it.

  “Now give him a treat,” Jax says.

  As she gives the dog a treat, Jolie’s mouth falls open and she looks at me in astonishment. “He did it.”

  “Pretty cool. Way to go,” I say to Jax with a smile.

  “The chewing thing isn’t getting much better unfortunately,” he says.

  “I heard it could be almost two years before he stops.” At least that’s what my client told me the other day, and he said he’s had numerous dogs throughout his life.

  “Great.”

  We sit as I stir the pasta and check the garlic bread in the oven. Jolie keeps telling Gumdrop to sit. It’s weird how comfortable this situation feels.

  When Jolie goes into the other room to play with the dog, Jax asks, “Have you heard from the lawyer?”

  “We’re at a standstill because he can’t find Michael. He said that if Michael’s gone without any contact for six months, things will go a lot easier in court. I’m not sure I want to wait that long… but hey, did he cash your check?” I ask.

  “What?”

  “He hasn’t cashed my check, and I feel like he keeps making excuses about it. I’ve been waiting so I don’t spend the money in the bank. But at this point, I wonder if he lost it.”

  “No it’s not just you, he hasn’t cashed mine either,” he says.

  My forehead wrinkles, but I feel slightly better about it. “Did you hear from him?”

  He nods.

  I rest the spoon on the holder and go to the table to sit with him. “Did he find your parents?”

  He nods. “He thinks he found my mom.”

  My eyes widen. “Does she live locally?”

  “Yeah, she has a permanent residence at a cemetery up in Southport.”

  “Oh.” My shoulders fall. “She’s already passed?”

  He nods. “Turns out Momma fell in with the wrong crowd because she was an addict. No idea about my father. He’s trying to turn up some relatives. Supposed to hear back in a week or so.”

  I grab his hand. “I’m sorry, Jax.”

  He shakes his head and shrugs. “It’s fine. If he can find any family, I’ll probably get the medical information I wanted. Same difference.”

  The sound of water spilling over on the stove has me out of my seat and rushing to the stove to lower the heat.

  “Sorry,” I say when I return, but he’s shaking his head.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Okay, well, if you could cut the garlic bread, I’ll get the pasta ready and we’ll eat.”

  I know that when I want to get my mind off something, I like to keep busy.

  He cuts the bread as I drain the pasta. We move around the kitchen together, me handing him things since he doesn’t know where anything is. Five minutes later, we’re at the table like a real family and I have to remind myself that we’re not. Jolie is telling Jax about a new friend, Isaiah, she’s playing with at school.

  “A boy?” Jax asks and eyes me.

  “Yeah, and he’s so nice. He has two mommies.”

  “Really?” He twirls his pasta.

  “So I told him on Daddy Day that you’d pretend to be his daddy too. Okay?”

  I choke on my pasta. She never told me that earlier when she was going on and on about her new friend at school.

  “Sure, just hire me out for any kindergarteners who need me.” Jax ruffles her hair, then he and Jolie bury their heads in their meals.

  I twirl my pasta, wishing this pull on my heart would go away because one thing Jax has made clear is he isn’t interested in any type of commitment. And when you have a five-year-old daughter, that’s the first thing you need from a man.

  Jolie swindles Jax to stay for a movie, and the three of us cuddle on the couch with her between us. Talk about breaking your heart—watch your daughter happy as a princess when the man she wants as her daddy sits down to watch a movie with her. It’s heartbreakingly sweet.

  As we watch the thief win the princess’s heart, all I can think about are these feelings for Jax growing inside me. It’s horrible that he’ll never know his mother. I can only imagine how that must make him feel. I’m not close to my family at all, but they’re there in Wisconsin should I wish to have a relationship with them—not that they want one with me. Being the black sheep of your family isn’t the same as not having one. Is that what’s making these feelings surface? Because sometimes he seems almost lonely and the motherly instinct in me wants to nurture him?

  I could probably convince myself of that, but it would be a lie. I love Jax’s sarcastic humor. Hell, the majority of the time we went rounds with our bickering, I felt this sexually charged energy between us, as if he could back me up to a wall and shut me up with a kiss. The way he is with Jolie is a completely opposite side. I’m not sure he even notices how good he is with her. It’s like he doesn’t see how much she looks up to him.

  “Why is it that someone has to be poor and the other one rich?” Jax asks.

  I look over to find Jolie’s head tucked under his arm. She’s asleep, nestled into his side. My ovaries are on high alert again. “How do you mean?”

  “Think of all the movies. He’s the thief and she’s the princess who wants to get out of her castle, and she falls in love with him. Of course her father, the king, doesn’t think he’s worthy. Then you have Cinderella. She’s got a wicked stepmother who locks her in the attic where she talks to mice.”

  “I’m oddly impressed that you know your fairy tales.” I chuckle.

  “I’ve had foster sisters my entire life. But seriously, in Cinderella, you have the prince who’s searching out the woman who left a glass slipper and she turns out to have nothing? I mean, I think in reality, the prince takes all the girls who are vying for his affection.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “I’m going to need you to cover my daughter’s ears while talking like that.”

  He chuckles. “Maybe it’s the ones who don’t get a fairy tale who are the most cynical that they exist.”

  “I could see that.”

  He looks down at Jolie. “Maybe I’m just bitter.”

  “Jolie told me what you said to her that day at the snowman competition. Ever think about taking your own advice?”

  When she told me Jax told her to be thankful for what she has, she listed all of her friends, including everyone at the Rooftop Apartments.

  “I’m thankful for my friends. Hopefully, y
our ex leaving doesn’t affect Jolie too much.” His eyes find mine through the glow of the television in the dark room. “I think I’m too messed up from my childhood to have a healthy relationship.”

  I don’t respond because I almost think he’s baiting me. Like he feels this thing between us too, but he’s warning me not to expect anything because he’s too damaged.

  He shakes his head. “I don’t know. I just hate fairy tales. I always relate to the damaged one who has to do all the growing. They aren’t realistic.”

  “Would you rather the princess get her ass kicked by the drunk prince, so kids think that’s normal behavior for people when they fall in love?”

  I meant it as a joke, but I think my words hit too close to home because his lips tip down and his expression reads angry. “That’s not reality either.”

  “Then what’s reality?”

  He shrugs. “Two people who have great sex and mistake lust for love. They marry, have a few kids. Raise the kids while they stop having sex or enjoying one another at all. Then the kids grow up and they live the rest of their lives in bickering hell.”

  “Whoa, so all of our friends are on the path to hell, huh?”

  He chuckles. “I’ve tried to warn every one of them.”

  I distinctly remember him talking Dylan into dating Rian.

  I look down to make sure Jolie is still sleeping. “What about when bickering turns into make-up sex?”

  “Eventually the make-up sex ends because she’s not in the mood. Have you never seen this scenario in a movie?”

  “Have you ever read a romance book?”

  He chuckles. “Touché.” He leans back, wiggling in his seat.

  “If you’re uncomfortable, I can take her to her room.”

  He shakes his head. “So tell me, when you meet someone you want to be with, how do you envision your life going?”

  “First I have to find someone willing to take on Jolie and love her like his own.”

  He looks down at her and smiles. “She’s easy. Hell, she thought she wanted me for her daddy. We really need to work on her taste. She can’t be trying to find boys like me when she’s a teenager. I’m sure whoever you’re with won’t be able to stop himself from loving her.”