Vested Interest Box Set: Books 1-3

by Melanie Moreland

  His car pulled away, leaving me alone and confused.

  I hadn’t slept all night, the evening playing on a loop in my head. The way he smiled. How my hand felt wrapped in his. How small and protected I felt when he held me. The emotion in his kiss.

  The pain in his eyes. I would never forget the anguish.

  I sat, lost in my thoughts, startling when my phone buzzed with a text from Emmy, reminding me about meeting for coffee. Glancing at the clock, I knew I wasn’t going to make it. At that point, I’d be lucky to make class on time. I stood, feeling drained, and wished I could just stay home and hide for the day in bed. I didn’t have that luxury, though. Returning to my bedroom, I grabbed my purple scarf, wrapped it around my neck, remembering Dee’s words.

  “Bad luck comes in threes. Watch out. Goodness knows what you’ll lose next.”

  I had a feeling I’d already lost my three.

  My umbrella, my scarf, and the biggest loss of all—Aiden.

  “Are you listening to me?”

  I glanced up from my cold coffee, shaking my head to clear it. I blinked at Louisa, trying in desperation to pick up the thread of our conversation.

  Or lecture was more like it.

  She wasn’t happy I’d been late. I’d already postponed coffee once, and I knew I couldn’t miss another date. She had sulked the entire time at our project group at my place last week until I made a point of asking her for coffee this time. Then she settled in and worked, even helping to serve coffee and insisting on staying behind and tidying up. I had to admit, when she wasn’t being whiny or stuck-up, she could be pleasant. But that wasn’t very often. She liked to complain—the way she was right at that moment.

  “I mean, really, why drag me out for coffee if you are going to ignore me? Good friends don’t do that.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to remind her I hadn’t dragged her anywhere and that we were school chums, not good friends. But it seemed unkind. So I patted her hand and smiled apologetically.

  “I’m sorry, Louisa. I didn’t sleep well last night, and today I lost my favorite scarf, couldn’t locate my notes in my locker, missed Emmy this morning, and was late for class. I’m a bit distracted.”

  “Is Emmy angry with you?”

  I shrugged. “Annoyed a little, but she knows I had a bad morning. I just hate letting her down.”

  “She should be more understanding.”

  “It was my fault.” I defended Emmy. “And she’s fine.”

  Louisa blinked. “Oh. Okay.” She blurted out, “You can borrow my notes.”

  “Really?”

  “Sure.” She dug into her bag. “I’m like you. I still write them out.”

  I took her notebook, flipping through it. The book was precise. “Wow, your handwriting is so neat. Mine looks like chicken scratch.”

  “I rewrite them all. I like them neat.”

  “Ah, that explains it. I’ll copy them and give this back to you.” I went to grab my bag and knocked over my cup, spilling coffee everywhere.

  I gasped and she shrieked, jumping up to avoid the coffee.

  “Oh no, my notes!”

  “I’m so sorry.” I grabbed some tissues, lifting the notebook, blotting up the liquid. “Look, it’s not too bad, just the cover, and the edge of the paper. I’ll replace it, okay?”

  “Fine,” she huffed. “But you should take better care of other people’s things.”

  I scowled. “It was an accident.” I offered her the book, not liking her tone. “I’ll ask someone else if you prefer.”

  Her expression changed from sullen and pissed to contrite. “No, it’s fine. It’s just a book, right? Keep it and use it. I’ll start a fresh one since it’s ruined.” She stood, picking up her knapsack. “I’ll get that from you on Monday. You can give me a new one when we have coffee again next week.” She hurried away with a fast wave over her shoulder, leaving me confused.

  When had I agreed to coffee next week?

  I glanced down at the “ruined” notebook. A few splashes of coffee on the cover. I flipped through the pages. None of the notes were affected.

  With a sigh, I stood and added it to my bag. Everyone was different. If a new fifty-cent notebook made her happy, I would get her one. I’d also tell her I wasn’t having coffee with her next week.

  No doubt, she’d be angry with me.

  But that wasn’t anything new for me lately.

  Especially not today.

  Aiden

  Maddox looked perplexed and tapped the pages in front of him. “This is more than we discussed, Bentley.”

  Bent ran a hand through his hair. “I know. Not a lot, though.”

  “No, but why, if I may ask?”

  He and Bentley had talked and cleared the air. I let them do it in private, knowing Maddox needed that, the same way he had with me. I had no doubt Bentley had been as surprised as I was to find out how Maddox had been feeling. However, he had assured Maddox nothing was further from the truth, and we were not moving away or leaving him out. We spoke afterward, and we all made a commitment to see each other more often—the way we used to. It was only when I thought about it that I realized I had missed the time we used to spend just hanging as friends, watching a movie or game in Bentley’s media room, or working out together.

  We were looking over the final offers for the lakefront properties. I had already seen them, so I knew about the figures. I looked forward to Maddox’s reaction to the reasoning behind the increased offers.

  “I told Emmy about my ideas and the people we met and why they’re selling their property.” He lifted one shoulder. “She was touched by the stories.”

  “And?”

  He rubbed his face roughly. “She told me this was their life savings and not to underpay them.”

  “Our offer was fair market value.”

  “And this isn’t much over the value. I—we—can afford it. You can charge me the difference if I buy the property.”

  Maddox looked at the papers, then at me, a smile already tugging on his lips. I needed the amusement today. “So the girl who insists you use a coupon at Swiss Chalet had no issue with you losing a few hundred grand to a business deal.”

  “I’m aware it’s unusual.”

  “Are you aware you are totally pussy-whipped?” Maddox responded dryly.

  He started to laugh. I joined in, then after he glared at us, so did Bentley.

  “Cut me some slack. I can’t say no to that girl,” Bentley huffed. “She won’t let me spend money on her, so if this makes her happy and she thinks I’m a better person, I don’t care.”

  Maddox wiped his eyes. “Life is so much more interesting now that she’s around.”

  “Amen to that.”

  I pulled out my phone. “Can I call Jed and tell him we’re sending them an offer?”

  Maddox shut the file. “Yes. Tell him he’ll be pleased.”

  “Good, Emmy. You’ve been practicing.”

  She nodded enthusiastically, wild tendrils of hair swirling around her face. She was sweating hard, and her cheeks glowed red from exertion. She looked proud of herself.

  “I’ve been using Bentley’s gym every day.”

  I heard him snort in the corner. “Every day,” he agreed. “My last Emmy-free zone gone. Boom!” He chuckled.

  “I don’t use your den.”

  “Much.”

  “Well, your sofa is comfortable. It smells like you in there, and I like it.”

  He stood, shut his laptop, and sauntered over. There was an expression of adoration on his face as he tucked one of her stray curls behind her ear. “I like it when you’re in there too.”

  “I like it when I distract you.” She winked.

  He leaned down, brushing his lips to hers. “I like that too. That’s the best part.”

  “Okay, enough.” I clapped my hands. “I don’t need you eye-fucking each other in my place.”

  “We’re not eye-fucking,” Bentley retorted.

  “Yeah,
Tree Trunk. We’re planning. There’s a difference.”

  I groaned and laughed, despite my mood. It had been dark for the past few days. Even the news that the sellers had accepted our offers for the lake property hadn’t cheered me up.

  I wasn’t surprised Cami hadn’t shown up tonight with Emmy. I hadn’t responded to her texts or spoken with her since the night at the lake.

  I’d had a bad reaction to her words. They had hit home, reminding me of a painful time in my life. And instead of brushing it off, I had dwelled. I had shut her out and wallowed the past few days. I had to admit, a huge part of me hoped she would be here with Emmy, but another part of me knew she wouldn’t show up tonight.

  “Aiden?”

  I pushed my thoughts away. “Sorry, what did you ask?”

  “If you were coming for tacos.”

  “No, I had my fill last week, and I ate before you came tonight. The rest of you go without me.” I didn’t want to go and cause Cami to miss time with Emmy.

  “It’s only us three. Maddox is at some accounting thing, Dee is away for a few days, and Cami just isn’t up to going,” Emmy stated. “She’s at home, resting.”

  All my protective instincts kicked in. “Resting? Is she ill?”

  She glanced at Bentley, then at me. “You didn’t know?”

  “Know what? What happened?” I demanded to know.

  “Cami was jostled going down the stairs at school yesterday and she fell. She hit her knee and landed on her shoulder. She was pretty shaken up, and she told me she aches all over. That’s why she wasn’t here tonight. I thought she must have told you since you didn’t ask.”

  “I-I assumed she had another commitment,” I sputtered.

  Cami was hurt.

  “Did she see a doctor?”

  “They saw her at the clinic. The X-rays showed nothing was broken. They gave her a prescription for some painkillers and told her to use ice.”

  “They suggested therapy to help, didn’t they? Some massage for the aching muscles?”

  “She doesn’t have coverage. She was going to look something up on the internet.” She grabbed my forearm. “Maybe you could send her some stuff, Aiden. Some exercises to help her? You know about that sort of thing, right?”

  “For sure.”

  I met Bentley’s eyes. He tilted his chin down in understanding.

  “Okay, Emmy. Let’s go. I’m starved.”

  They took their stuff and left, waving goodbyes. I hurried to my bathroom, grabbed some things I’d need, then went into the kitchen to get my icepacks. I picked up the phone and called my favorite Chinese place and ordered some hot and sour soup. It was Cami’s favorite.

  Then I ran to the car without a second thought.

  She was hurt. She needed me.

  She was shocked when she opened her door. I could see the pain etched in the pinched look on her face.

  “Aiden?”

  “May I come in?”

  “Why?” she asked, the one word saturated in a quiet sadness.

  “I came to help.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Emmy.”

  She hesitated, and I waited, expecting a shake of her head and for the door to shut in my face. I was pleased when she stepped back, opening the door wider.

  Inside, I unloaded my bags in the kitchen and took her the container of soup. “I want you to eat, then I’ll look at your shoulder.”

  “I don’t understand why you…why you’re here.”

  I opened the soup and handed it to her with a spoon. I sat across from her with a container for myself. “I took physical therapy as well as business at university. I also have my massage therapy license. I constantly take courses to keep up with changes in treatments. I can help with your pain.”

  She looked down into her soup. “Oh.”

  “Cami, look at me.”

  She glanced up, her gaze conflicted.

  “Please let me do this for you.”

  “Okay.” She spoke in a soft voice, dipping her spoon into her soup, wincing as she lifted it to her mouth. I had to stop myself from reaching out and feeding her myself.

  “What happened? How did you fall?”

  “It was the rush between classes. The stairway was full as usual, and someone knocked the girl behind me. She fell into me but caught herself on the railing. My arms were full, and I went down. It was only a few steps, but I landed on my right shoulder. I was lucky and glad I didn’t hurt anyone else.”

  I didn’t care about anyone else, but I didn’t tell her. “Emmy says your knee and shoulder hurt?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you taking the painkillers?”

  She shook her head. “They make me sleepy.”

  “That’s part of their job. You need to rest and heal.”

  She didn’t respond.

  “Are you in pain?”

  She hesitated. “I…”

  “Sunshine?” I prompted. “Are you in pain?”

  “Please don’t call me that,” she whispered. “I think it means more than it does, and”—she lifted her tear-filled eyes to mine—“it hurts, Aiden.”

  “I don’t mean to hurt you.” I dragged a hand through my hair. “I’m sorry. The other night caught me off guard, and I overreacted.”

  “What did I do?”

  “Nothing, Cami. You did nothing. It’s me. I told you I don’t do relationships. I’m not built that way.”

  “I think, if you gave yourself a chance, you could. If you talked to me, let me help you…”

  Her voice trailed off as I shook my head.

  “I like you, Cami. I like spending time with you. I like being with you. I think you’re amazing. But the rest…it’s not going to happen,” I told her, keeping my tone gentle. “I’m being as honest as I can be with you.”

  She stirred her soup. “So friends with benefits is what you’re saying?”

  “We can be friends without the benefits part, if that makes it easier on you,” I offered, hating myself, knowing how much more she wanted. How much more she deserved. “I like hanging with you. You really are a ray of sunshine in my life.”

  “I like hanging with you too.”

  “Eat your soup. Let me look after you tonight. We can talk about it later.”

  She sighed and picked up her spoon. “Okay.”

  After we ate, I made sure she took some painkillers. Then she lay on the sofa and let me look at her knee. It was bruised and swollen, and I worked on it for a while, stimulating the blood flow and trying to ease the muscle stiffness. After, I rubbed some anti-inflammatory cream into the skin and wrapped it in an ice bag.

  “I want that elevated as much as possible and iced every hour tomorrow for twenty minutes at a time.”

  I eased her onto a pile of cushions on the floor and sat her between my legs. “Let me see your shoulder.”

  She tugged her shirt over her head, the movements slow and jerky. The skin was mottled with bruises on the top of her arm, and as I ran my fingers over her skin, I could feel the pull and tightness of her muscles. She shivered at my touch.

  “Are you cold?”

  “No.”

  “Try to relax. I won’t hurt you. I promise.”

  I tried not to dwell on the fact that I hurt her constantly in another manner.

  She sighed, and her shoulders dropped. I spread some coconut oil on her skin and began to knead her neck. After a few minutes, she began to relax, leaning back into the sofa. I was careful as I worked the trapezius muscles, easing the tension created by the fall. I moved up her neck, my fingers sliding on the slick skin, pushing my thumb into the tight spots at the base. She moaned low, but it wasn’t a sound of pain. I felt her tension begin to drain away and her arms relaxed, her hands resting on my feet.

  I stopped for a moment and grabbed my phone, hitting a soothing playlist. The quiet notes filled the air, helping her to loosen up even more. I didn’t talk; instead, I listened to her breathing. I knew when I found a more tender area by
the hitch I could hear on occasion as my hands moved across her back. She would sigh when it felt good, and I made sure to linger longer on those areas.

  “So nice,” she whispered. “It feels so nice.”

  “Is the pain going away?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, we’ll keep going.”

  “I like the music. It reminds me of when I was little.”

  I added some more oil to my hands. “Oh?”

  “Dee would sing me to sleep some nights. She has a beautiful voice.” Cami sighed as I found another sore area, silent until the pain was gone and my touch only conveyed pleasure. “She still does sometimes if I’ve had a bad day.”

  “You two are very close.”

  “It was only her and me, to be honest. Like I told you before, my mom was there in body, but she checked out emotionally after my dad left us. She never got over him walking out. I was nine when it happened. A year later, she got sick with cancer and died.” Her voice was so low I had to strain to hear it. “She refused treatment. She had no will to live—not even for Dee and me. She deteriorated fast, and then there was just us.”

  “And your father?”

  “Still didn’t want either of us. Dee was my family.”

  Gently, I tilted up her head, sliding my hands to the base of her throat. A tear caught the light as it slid down her cheek. I spread my fingers wide over her clavicle, easing away the tension there.

  “I’m sorry, Cami.”

  She reached up, patting my hand. “It’s okay. Dee has been there for me all my life. She’s my rock.”

  I cradled her head, tilting it to one side then the other, soothing and lessening the pain. Then I began again on her shoulders.

  I knew when she fell asleep. Her body slackened, leaning into my leg, her hands lax on my feet. Her breathing was slow and quiet. I kept massaging her neck until I was sure she was in a deep sleep. Using caution, I widened my knees, stood, and maneuvered until I could turn around in front of her to look down at her sleeping form.

  Her head rested against the sofa. I could see the bruising on her arm, and I crouched to add some anti-inflammatory cream to help with the swelling around the area. I was careful not to wake her or press too hard. Her torso was bare, her shirt a pile on her lap. Her perfect breasts were on display, yet I felt no lust—nothing but an intense sense, a need, to care for her. Gently, I scooped her up, carried her to her room, and placed her on the bed, drawing her covers up to keep her warm.