I Kissed The Boss

by Lindsey Hart

  Ambi winced internally at herself. She was being petty. She knew it, but she just couldn’t help it. She was ten seconds away from telling Trey to make himself at home before she bolted up the stairs to her own comfy apartment, but then a big glop of snow melted off his hair and ran down his face like a really unfortunate bird shit or a raw egg.

  She was horrified to find a smile playing over her lips. God, she’d pay money to see Trey get shit on by a bird. She wondered if she could find one for hire.

  “You better come up.” She pointed to the ceiling. “I live up there, but then again, you probably know that given that you stalked me. You must have. You have my private cell number.”

  Trey tried to muster up his signature smirk, but instead, his lips wobbled, and his teeth knocked together loudly as a violent shiver swept through him.

  “Anyway. I don’t want to be the one responsible for you getting pneumonia or something. Two wrongs don’t make a right and two turds don’t make anything good. We’ve already decided that you’re a turd. I don’t want to be a turd. I want to be the better person. So- if you- can- uh- promise me a truce, I’ll make you a cup of mint tea and you can get out of those wet clothes.”

  Trey groaned. “You k-know I h-h-hate mint tea.” He had trouble with the words, given that he was shivering so hard that his whole body was shaking.

  Ambi grinned wickedly. “I know no such thing. You know, I don’t remember much of anything at all from when we went out. It was such a long time ago and it wasn’t very long or meaningful. When you ended things, I just kind of forgot about all of it. What I did remember, I viewed as kind of a really low point in my life, so I tried to block out as much as I possibly could.”

  Trey practically growled at her, but the effect was spoiled by the fact that he still looked like a wet mop and was shivering so violently his teeth were on the verge of shattering each other.

  Ambi smiled back innocently. She imagined it was innocent, at least. In reality, she probably looked like the guilty cat who had just swallowed its owner’s favorite canary whole and wasn’t sorry at all.

  “Anyway, you can have a bath while I dry out your wet clothes.”

  “Those clothes are d-dry c-c-clean o-only,” Trey shivered.

  “Good.” Her smile grew wider. “I’ll throw them in the dryer.”

  Trey’s eyes widened in horror. Please. Surely there were worse things than a two-thousand-dollar suit and an expensive wool coat hitting the dryer. Just because things said they were dry clean only, didn’t mean that they actually were.

  She followed up with the best part of all. The part she had no doubt that Trey would be absolutely thrilled about. The icing on the cake, the item that would seal the deal.

  “While they’re drying, I just so happen to have a nice, fluffy, pink quilt for you.”

  She turned and left Trey dripping all over the tiled floor of her office, shivering and breathing heavy. She went straight to the stairs to her apartment. It only took Trey a few seconds to do the whole suck it up, buttercup routine and follow.

  Ah, humble pie had never been so freshly baked or smelled so delicious.

  CHAPTER 9

  Trey

  It turned out that there were few things better in life than a warm shower. He stripped out of his sopping wet clothes, left them outside the bathroom door as instructed, and cranked the shower on to something somewhere between scalding and fucking unbearable. The water was hot enough to melt him and hurt like hell on his frozen feet, hands, and face, but it also felt pretty damn near heaven.

  He was so enraptured by getting warm again when he felt cold straight to his bones, the kind of cold that can’t actually be properly eradicated without being so hot that sweat beaded his brow even under the pounding water, that he didn’t actually stop to take in any details of the bathroom until after he’d shut the water off.

  Black spots danced in front of his eyes from the brutal temperature change, then the boiling alive. His blood was probably sizzling, and he figured passing out on top of everything else wouldn’t be smart or conducive to anything. He kind of wanted to keep his skull in one piece.

  He stepped out of the tub and grabbed for the towel on the rack. Of course, it was pink. Pink and fluffy. Ambi always did like pink. She liked her towels big enough to wrap around her three times since she was always cold.

  Thinking about the towel now wrapped around his hips on Ambi’s body worked miracles for his dick. It was good to see that the bastard hadn’t frozen off in the whole frigid trek from hell he’d forced himself to undergo. Then again, desperation made people do really stupid shit. He’d let Ambi go once. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake again.

  Trey glanced slowly around the bathroom, breathing in the colder air. The mirror was fogged up, even with the fan clanking away overhead. The office was one of those old brick buildings that must have had a few thousand previous lives. The apartment on top was large, but it was old and unique with tons of character. Brick walls, exposed ceiling beams, beat up hardwood floor. Exactly what Ambi liked.

  The bathtub was a claw foot, number one on her bathtub wish list, and an old cast iron one at that, none of the fake plastic shit. The sink was a simple pedestal and the toilet was nothing special, but the exposed gold radiator at the end of the bathroom was pretty cool. The whole thing screamed Ambi.

  Footsteps sounded in the hall outside the bathroom. Trey could practically hear Ambi breathing through the old wood door- also the real deal with the five panels and the antique knob that looked like it might fall off at any given minute.

  “Yo, Ambi? My clothes are done in the dryer yet?”

  She snorted through the door. It was muffled, but he could imagine her face, half pissed off, half annoyed. No, wrong. A third pissed off, a third annoyed, a third trying to hide that she actually didn’t find his company that repulsive. That might be wishful thinking, but he knew for a fact that if she did, she would have told him to go fuck himself and left him downstairs to thaw out in her office and figure out his own way home.

  Fuck. He couldn’t think about the term fuck himself at the moment. Not with Ambi so close and nothing more than her towel wrapped around his hips. His dick throbbed at the idea of any kind of action.

  Trey gripped the towel tighter, trying to figure out how to tuck his cock up or block it so that it wasn’t obvious that he had a damn two by four going on under there. Ambi would probably burn that towel if she found out.

  “The dryer?” Ambi snorted again. “They aren’t even done in the wash yet.”

  “You’re washing my suit?” Trey slammed his eyes shut. That was probably the end of his hopes of wearing clothes out of there. Everything would likely be shrunk eight sizes too small when Ambi was done with it. Maybe that was her end game. Revenge. Humiliation. Not that he could fault her.

  “Yeah. Everything. Your coat too.”

  Trey groaned. Wool and washers and dryers didn’t mix. That coat cost him over a thousand dollars and Ambi likely knew it.

  “Do you have anything I could put on in the meantime?” He was glad his eyes were closed so he didn’t have to watch his balls wither up.

  “I have a robe. A pink one. I think it would be way too small on you though.”

  Ambi’s. Pink. Robe. The fact that the idea wasn’t as hideous as it should have been said a lot for his testosterone level. He imagined slipping that warm fuzzy pink object against his skin and bringing it to his face, smelling Ambi’s fresh scent all over it. On the other hand, his dick was trying to reach up and give him a high five over the idea, so maybe he was still a dude after all, bathrobe fantasies included.

  “Or I have a quilt. Take your pick.”

  “I’ll take the quilt. I don’t want to ruin your robe.”

  Ambi let out a laugh that was too harsh to be a real laugh at all. “Oh really? You don’t want to ruin my robe, but you have no qualms about ruining my life? Not that I remember anything about that. I’ve blocked that right out of my mind. I ju
st think that’s really fucking rich.”

  Trey winced. Right. He deserved that. He deserved so much worse.

  He didn’t have a good comeback for any of it, so he stood there stupidly, staring at the pink towel wrapped around his waist. A minute later the door cracked open and something multicolored was shoved inside before the door slammed shut again.

  He stared at the heap of fabric. It wasn’t hand sewn. It was one of those cheap puffy looking things from the department store that ruined on the first wash. It was ten different shades of pink and purple. Apparently, his humiliation for the night wasn’t complete yet.

  He cringed as he slipped off the towel, hung it back on the rack since he knew Ambi hated towels left on the floor or flung over the shower bar or tub side, and pulled on the quilt. He wrapped it around himself the best he could before he opened the bathroom door and stepped out.

  He was greeted with another laugh, this time a real one. It started out small and turned into a full-on cackle. It was such a beautiful sound, Ambi full-on doing that crazy belly laugh of hers that sounded totally like an evil witch cackling about a spell, that he was instantly warmed all over again.

  “You look like a freaking burrito,” she giggled. He finally turned his head, just to watch her brush tears from the corners of her eyes. “Just wait. Let me get my phone. I have to get a picture.”

  “Hell no. No pictures,” Trey grumbled. “I won’t be blackmailed over this. I came here to apologize for what happened. I nearly froze to death out there. I’m lucky I didn’t lose my toes or my fingers or something worse.”

  Her eyes immediately tracked to his waist. Thankfully, his dick wasn’t choosing that moment to make a tent out of the middle of the quilt. Small mercies did indeed still exist. His eyes flicked to her face right after and she was blushing a deep shade of scarlet. She ripped her eyes away immediately and stalked down the narrow hall, muttering something about it being a service to all mankind if it had happened.

  Trey followed Ambi, struggling to keep the quilt in place. He was very aware that he had absolutely nothing on underneath and that she picked the kitchen to have their conversation. Of course. The kitchen. A room filled up with all sorts of sharp and dangerous objects like knives and frying pans if he should choose to get out of line again.

  Like the bathroom and the hallway, which was lined with colorful artwork, the kitchen and living room combo, which opened up into each other, was pretty much exactly what she’d always wanted. Not just the architecture of the place, but the furnishings. She’d picked mostly antique stuff and carried the eclectic artwork into the living room and even the kitchen. The living room had a big red woven rug and a curved vintage green sectional that screamed sixties. The kitchen was complete with a farmhouse table, big planks on the top and chipped yellow paint on the thick legs. The appliances were some kind of retro deal. They were a strange seafoam color and didn’t look safe to use at all.

  Of course, Ambi was right in her element. She threw a kettle on the stove and indicated the table. There were four different chairs surrounding it, all upholstered beasts that he had a fuck ton of trouble pulling out without the quilt dropping off. When he plunked down in a black brocade chair which was extremely uncomfortable and thrust a spring right into his left ass cheek, she set a steaming mug of mint tea in front of him.

  So, she’d made good on her word.

  God, he hated tea. He hated all tea, but he knew Ambi loved it. She didn’t drink coffee. Never did. She was a true tea granny through and through.

  “I like the place,” Trey said awkwardly, while he tried not to inhale the minty vapors coming from the mug in front of him.

  “Thanks.” She pulled out a chair and sat down across from him. She thumped a water bottle on the table and added a good portion to her half-full mug. It was something she always did. Added cold water so she could drink her tea right away without waiting for it to cool.

  It was amazing how five years hadn’t changed her at all. She’d accomplished and found everything she wanted. All without him.

  If that wasn’t humbling, he didn’t know what was.

  “It’s nice. Your style. The brick. The wood beams. The décor. The tub. It’s everything you ever described.”

  “Yeah.” She took a big gulp of tea. “And my office is right below so it’s really convenient. Thanks for making it possible, you know, with your twenty grand and the amazing reference you’re going to give me to ensure I can keep affording the rent on the place. I haven’t told Mom about Mexico yet, but when I do, I know she’s going to be thrilled.”

  Underneath her acerbic words, spoken with way too much sweetness for him to mistake her intent, was a big fucking guilt trip. She was basically flipping the bird right in his face without raising a hand at all.

  “Look… I’m here to make peace. I wanted to say that I’m sorry. For everything. God…” Trey reached up and ran a hand through his wet hair. He removed it, but not before spraying water droplets all over the place. “You have no idea how many times I wanted to call and tell you that. Text. Email. Send a fucking letter. Do something. Anything.”

  Ambi’s one eyebrow curled a little at that. “Yeah?” Her hand paused on the handle of her mug. She didn’t pick it off the table. Instead, she nailed him with a direct gaze that was so full of emotion he couldn’t begin to get his head on straight enough to unravel the mystery of it. “Then why didn’t you?”

  CHAPTER 10

  Amberina

  Trey in her apartment wasn’t a good idea. Trey soaking wet, sitting three feet away, very naked under a quilt that was trying its best to fall off, was a terrible, terrible idea. As in, the Worst.

  The problem was, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t erase the memories of their time together. She’d lied about that. About not remembering. About forcing herself to forget. She remembered it all. Every single detail. She wanted to peel back that quilt and find the scar on Trey’s left pec, compliments of when he fell out of a tree when he was six. A branch caught him and cut him, leaving him with a two-inch scar that hadn’t faded as he grew up.

  She wanted to see how five years had changed him, if at all. She didn’t care if he was still cut or as broad or ridiculously chiseled, veiny, and delicious. She could pretty much see that he was all of those things, even with the quilt covering everything but his arms. His arms. God, his arms.

  Those arms, with their sinful golden skin, their bulging muscles at the top and the striated longer ones at the forearms, the corded ropes of veins that traversed it all and the crisp dark hairs… they were good enough to rip off and eat. They’d probably be an extremely delicious accompaniment to mint tea.

  That was the problem.

  Trey was the problem.

  She hadn’t forgotten. Any of it. It hadn’t died with time. She couldn’t will it away no matter how hard she tried, and damn it, she’d really, really tried. The thing about hatred and rage was that it was too potent and powerful and close to other really extreme feelings and emotions. Like lust. Like desire. Like- well- like like. She couldn’t even think of any other L words.

  Trey cleared his throat and she remembered that she’d asked him a question.

  “Well,” he said gruffly. “I- I guess I thought that- that- you’d wait.”

  “Wait?” Ambi snorted. “Wait?” God. It was a good thing that Trey was so good at killing her feelings for him. She didn’t even have to do it on her own anymore. “You just thought that I’d wait for you? For five years?”

  “I didn’t mean it like that-”

  “Oh, no, you definitely meant it like that. You thought that I was pathetic. That I didn’t have a life? That I didn’t have any meaning other than you? That you- you- that just because you were rich, I’d gladly take you back? Jesus, Trey, how conceited can you be?”

  Trey thumped his hand down on the tabletop. Not hard enough to be violent or scary, but hard enough to make the tea in her mug jump a little. Hard enough that she might have jumped a littl
e too.

  “I. Didn’t. Mean. It. Like. That.” Trey ground every word out, enunciating each one. “I came here to talk. You might want to try listening.”

  Ambi slammed her arms over her chest. “Why the hell would I want to listen to anything you have to say?”

  “Great. Well. This isn’t going to go anywhere if you refuse to have an open mind.”

  “That would make two of us.”

  Trey’s nostrils flared. His jade greens turned to that darker shade, something closer to emeralds. “Here. I’ll prove that I have an open mind.” He picked up his mug and even though his tea was still steaming, he chugged back the whole thing. He kept the quilt tucked under his armpits and wiped at his mouth with the back of his hand. “There. I drank your foul tea. I tried it again, even though I knew I’d hate it. It wasn’t half bad. I drank the whole thing. Yeah. It actually wasn’t that bad at all. Can I have another? Is that proof enough for you? How many mugs of this do I have to drink to get you to hear me out? Because I’ll do what it takes, even if I have to down a hundred of those.”

  “You’d puke before then.”

  “It would be my pleasure if you’d hear me out.”

  She didn’t want to just capitulate, so she shoved back her chair and put the kettle on. She kept her back to Trey until she put a second mug in front of him. It was even worse than mint. He hated chai tea with a passion. She had milk and sugar to make it more palatable, but she kept it out of it.

  “Here’s the deal,” she said roughly, not letting him in on the fact that she might have been softening just a little. “You drink that, and I’ll hear you out.”

  “It’s scalding,” Trey protested.

  Ambi wasn’t letting him off the hook that easily. She got up, walked to the fridge, popped a few ice cubes out of the tray, and let them fall into Trey’s cup back at the table. She waited a minute until they dissolved.