Taking a deep breath, I knock on Kelsey’s door.
Coffee and donuts are in hand as I wait nervously outside.
I didn’t text her last night, I didn’t even bother contacting her, because I know how my sister works. When she gets mad, she needs time, and she needs space. I’m hoping a night away was all she needed, because, Jesus Christ, I need someone to talk to.
I need someone bad.
After what happened in the hallway with Huxley, I need to get it off my chest, and Kelsey is the only one who knows what’s actually going on in my life.
Last night, I felt . . . defeated. I felt as though I let down my entire family, and the last thing I wanted to do was have dinner with Huxley. I knew if I didn’t show up, he’d make a big deal about it, so I did the absolute minimum. And then I left. I didn’t think he’d chase after me, and I certainly didn’t think he’d attempt to take off my robe, let alone make me come all over his fingers. I’m not really sure if wearing the robe had been to tease him, if I’m honest.
I nibble on my bottom lip, still thinking about the way his strong, commanding voice felt right up against my ear, how his hand felt so large on my body, how desperately I wanted his lips to trail up my neck and across my jaw.
I truly do hate the man, there’s no question about that, but, oh my God, is he hot. He knows exactly how to use his voice, his body, in a way that will make anyone fall at his feet—me included.
And that orgasm . . . Christ. It was with just his fingers, and yet, it felt as though he attacked me in a way I can’t even describe. I felt as if I were under a spell and the only way to snap out of it was with an orgasm. And that orgasm delivered. It was so good, so satisfying, that I was still turned on when I went back into my room, and I had to ride it out on Thor one more time with the memory of Huxley’s dominant voice playing over and over in my head.
But what’s really rocking my world is not only what he said after, but the way he said it to me. Gently, holding my chin so I was forced to look him in the eyes, he made sure I understood that he’d take care of my sister. That he’d make sure she was heard.
When he left, I stood there, stunned.
There was no harsh tone, there was no sarcastic jab, it was as if I was back in Chipotle, talking to the man I first met. It was confusing. It’s why I need Kelsey to forgive me and open this door.
Impatiently I shift my feet until the door unlocks, and I hold my breath. Kelsey appears on the other side, but instead of wearing her usual boss-lady attire, she’s in a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top.
Oh God, what happened?
I swallow hard, smile, and hold up the coffee and donuts. “I’m sorry.”
She eyes the items in my hand and then opens the door more to let me in.
Step one complete: I’m inside the apartment. I go to the kitchen, grab plates, and set everything out on her dining table. She takes a seat across from me, pulling one of her legs against her chest, and watches as I carefully take out each donut, put it on a platter between us, set the bag on the ground, and then hand her the coffee I know she loves—a house blend with frothed milk and a splash of caramel. She takes a sip and I hold up the plate, which bears a giant bear claw, an apple fritter, a maple Long John, and of course, the classic Boston cream. As predicted, she picks up the apple fritter and I go for the Boston cream.
“I’m really sorry, Kels. Yesterday wasn’t my best showing, but I promise, it won’t happen again. I worked all day on the website, and I have some things to show you, some things I think you’ll—”
“Karla called.”
I pause. Why do I know that name? Karla . . . Karla . . .
“Huxley’s assistant,” she offers.
“Oh . . . OH! She did? Huxley said she would. Did she set up another meeting time?”
Kelsey nods. “She did. This Friday at three. We have more time to prepare, which is nice. We can come up with a great presentation now, fine-tune everything.”
“That’s great,” I say, feeling excited. But I’m sensing Kelsey isn’t as excited as me. “What’s wrong? That’s great, right?”
“It’s wonderful.”
“Then why is your tone of voice not matching your excitement?”
She sets her coffee down and asks, “Do you know why Huxley left that meeting?”
I shake my head. “He didn’t say why, just that it was important. Oh God, was it not important?” I lean forward. “Figures he’d go and lie about something like that.”
“He wasn’t lying,” Kelsey says. “It was important. One of their properties in New York City had an electrical fire. Two men had third-degree burns, others some smoke inhalation.”
“Oh . . . God, really?” I ask, feeling myself shrink into an incredibly small version of myself. He wasn’t lying. He’d been needed for something critical. Essential.
“Yes. Karla apologized for taking so long to get back to me with rescheduling, because she and Huxley spent the rest of the day on the phone making arrangements for not only the victims themselves but also the families of the victims.” Kelsey leans forward and says, “Apparently he personally called every one of them. Then he sent their favorite meals to the hospital and to the families.”
I blink a few times, attempting to comprehend what Kelsey’s telling me. “He . . . he did?”
She nods. “Yes, he did.” She picks up her donut. “Do you know why I’m telling you this?”
“To make me feel like an asshole?”
She shakes her head. “No, I’m telling you this so you can lighten up around him. He’s a good guy. There might have been some headbutting between the two of you, but at some point, you need to let that go. He’s helping you, he’s helping us, and that’s something you need to be grateful for. Yesterday should’ve never happened. You know I love you, but it was completely unprofessional. There’s no way you’d have done something like that if you were still working for Angela.”
I stare down at my untouched donut and swipe at the frosting with my finger. “You’re right. I never would’ve acted that way in front of Angela or in front of prospective clients.” I’ve had a lot of time to think about my reactions throughout the night . . . well, before the orgasm, of course. And when I considered objectively how insanely ridiculous and unprofessional my behavior was, I was more than mortified. My wish had been to put my studies to use, to help Kelsey grow her business to the next level. All I could attribute my behavior to was shock. Misplaced anger. Immaturity.
“I think I’ve built this whole situation up in my head, and instead of breathing in a deep breath and taking everything thrown my way one step at a time, I’m reacting without thought.” I sigh and lean back into the chair. “I hate to throw out excuses, but this whole thing with getting fired . . . I think it’s fucking with my head. Instead of giving myself time to mourn, I’m taking out my anger on everyone around me, Huxley included.”
Kelsey nods. “That makes sense. You’ve been rather . . . edgy lately.”
I smirk. “I’m always edgy. How about more irritable?”
“Okay, I’ll give you that.”
I reach across the table and take her hand in mine. “I’m really sorry, Kels. I promise, from here on out, it’ll be nothing but professionalism from me. Okay?”
“Okay.” She takes a bite of her donut. “Now show me what you’ve done with the website.”
“After I take down this donut. I didn’t eat dinner last night and I’m famished.”
“WAIT, so we can sell the sustainable products straight from our website?” Kelsey asks as we both hunker down at her computer, staring at the screen.
“Yes. I just have to install this app, and we can convert all sales through the website. Mind you, we won’t make a huge profit, but it’ll be nice supplemental income, while clients get the chance to browse the products we work with. And we can sort it by how you’d use each product, so, bathroom storage, pantry, etcetera.”
“This is great.” Kelsey sits back. “Would we purchase the product wholesale?”
I shake my head. “No, I sent an email to your supplier yesterday asking if we could set up a contract where we not only use their product for every project we do, but we also become an official supplier. I explained that we have some major projects in the works and want to make sure we have a solid product base to turn to.”
“Seriously?”
I nod. “And I know it’s a small percentage, but I said if we land this big client we’ve been talking to, we would like to start talks about our own product line.”
“Stop,” Kelsey says, grabbing my hand. “Our own line?”
I grin from ear to ear. “Yup. Mind you, it’s a pipe dream, but I wanted them to know that we were going places and they’re our first option when it comes to partnering up.”
Kelsey waves her hand in front of her face. “I’m sweating. I’m legit sweating.” She faces me. “Lottie, this is huge. Holy crap, where did this all come from?”
“Well, when you feel like a failure, it’s a nice, swift kick in the ass to get moving, and that’s what I did. I got moving.”
“Wow, Lottie. I’m really impressed.” Whispering, she asks, “Have they written back?”
I chuckle. “Not yet, but I did send it late last night and it’s only ten in the morning.”
“True.” She sighs. “Wow, wow, wow, I’m really impressed. Impressed and grateful. Thank you for working hard on all of this.”
“I’m invested just as much as you are in this business. I’ve seen you bring it to where it is today, but I know there’s so much more potential, and when I have my head out of my ass, I know I can really help build it.”
With a chuckle, she asks, “How were things when you got back to his place?”
I shut the laptop and lean back in my chair. “I’m not sure you’re ready for this story.”
She crosses her legs and rubs her hands together. “Oh, I don’t think I’ve ever been more ready.”
And this is what I love about Kelsey. We can have a fight, resolve it, and then just like that, we’re back to our normal selves. We don’t harp on disagreements; we don’t drag them out. We apologize and we move on. Another reason why I think, in the long run, we’ll be great business partners, because we’ll be able to read each other well. But that doesn’t mean I’m not incredibly thankful for the second chance.
“So, when I got home, I was obviously in a really sour mood. I got straight to work and buried myself in the computer. Before I knew it, it was getting late and I needed to take a second to relax, so I drew a bath.”
“Oh, I’m sure he has a really nice bathtub.”
“Really nice. Jets and everything. And bath bombs. I dropped a lavender one in the water to calm me. It was really nice.”
“But . . .”
I smirk. “But he texted that dinner was ready just as I was starting to release tension.”
“And let me guess, he expects you at dinner.”
“The show must go on,” I say. “Because I was lazy, I dried off quickly and then just threw on a robe, making sure it was properly cinched at the waist.”
Her brow raises in suspicion. “Just a robe, nothing under it?”
I shake my head.
“Girl, were you asking for trouble?”
“I was just trying not to have a moment in front of him after everything that happened. I didn’t put much thought into what I was dressed in, and believe me, I was more covered up than the night before. The robe was a step up.”
“Okay, so you show up to dinner in a robe. Was he aware nothing was on underneath?”
“It’s as if he has X-ray vision. I swear he sees everything. Anyway, we started getting into it again, because that’s what we seem to do.”
“Naturally, both of you like to be correct, both of you like to be in control. Sparks will fly when personalities clash.”
“Boy did they clash.” I think back to last night and it feels like a black hole in my head. “I can’t really tell you what we were fighting about. I know I was quiet and he didn’t seem to like that, so he provoked me. I told him I didn’t trust him, I think.” I tap my chin and then shake my head. “All I know is that I couldn’t sit at the table with him any longer, so I got up and went back to my room.”
“Oooo, I bet he didn’t like that.”
“He didn’t, and he made it known.”
“Did he send you a nasty text?”
I shake my head. “Worse. He came after me.”
Kelsey sits taller. “Oh, tell me more.”
Getting into the storytelling, I say, “I was inches from reaching my room when he snagged my hand from behind. And before I knew it, I was pinned against the wall.”
Kelsey gasps, hand to her chest. “Like . . . in a sexual way?”
I slowly nod.
“Lottie, what the hell did you do?”
“I did absolutely nothing. He was the one doing all the things.”
Kelsey nibbles on her thumb. “What kind of things?”
“He tugged my robe open.”
“He did not.” Her eyes widen and then she whispers, “Did he?”
“He did. But it never fell open, just was undone . . . undone enough for him to, uh, you know . . . lower his hand.”
Kelsey slaps the table. “Stop, he did not. He . . . he . . . fingered you?”
I nod. “Yup. He did.”
Hands by her head, Kelsey pretends her head is exploding. “You went from fighting, at each other’s throats, to him touching you in the hallway. How the hell does that even work?”
“I don’t know, and for the life of me, I couldn’t stop it. I didn’t want to stop it. I wanted him to keep doing what he was doing, and I wanted it to last all night.” I cover my forehead with my hand. “God, Kelsey, am I a whore?”
She laughs. “No. You aren’t a whore, but you are confusing, that’s for sure. I never would’ve thought you were interested in doing something like that with him. Not with the way you two seem to hate each other.”
“He said I hate him, but he doesn’t hate me. But I guess even if I think he’s an asshole, I still want his fingers inside me.” I shrug. “I’m pretty sure that means I’m fucked in the head.”
“They always say there’s a thin line between love and hate.”
“Oh no, don’t start with that. There’s no love involved. Lust . . . yes. The man is a dream, I’m not going to deny that. From the way he talks with such a filthy mouth, to his strong hold, to the domineering stance of his body and how he uses it to his advantage . . . yeah, everything about him screams ‘amazing, drop everything you’re doing, ear-piercing sex.’”
“One look at him and I’d believe that. And his brothers.”
“Makes you wonder what their parents are like.”
“Ooo, imagine an older man that looks just like them. A man in his sixties, salt-and-pepper hair, slaps you on the ass when you’re naughty.”
I cock an eyebrow. “Excuse me? Is this some sort of fantasy you’ve never told me about?”
“Old guys can be hot too.”
“Sixties . . . that could be our dad.”
“I never judge. Love is love. Lust is lust. As long as everyone gives consent, let people live.”
“Okay.” I chuckle. “That’s fair.”
“So . . . did he finish you off?”
I bite my bottom lip and nod. “He did, and it was explosive. Kelsey, I’ve never had an O like that before. I was shaking after, and I know this is TMI, but when I went back in my room, I had to get off again because I was so geared up from having him that close, touching me, talking to me. It was too much.”
“I can imagine. I can’t remember the last time I even kissed a man, let alone have someone do that.”
Feeling slightly awkward, I say, “He sucked his fingers after.”
“Stahp!” Kelsey yells and clutches her chest. “Oh my fuck.”
“I know.” I cover my eyes. “It was easily the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. And then he grabbed me by the chin, forced me to look at him, and told me that he promised you’d get your chance to pitch the business. In that moment, when he was speaking to me, it felt as if he was the same guy I went to Chipotle with. He wasn’t an asshole, he wasn’t provoking me, he was just being normal, sincere.” Likeable. I look Kelsey in the eyes. “It confused me.”
“Confused you how . . . like you might be feeling differently about him?”
I look away. “I mean . . . maybe. But just differently in the way that maybe I don’t hate him as much. I still think he’s an asshole, and I think one wrong thing he says to me will set me off, but that gesture . . . smoothed out some of the rough edges, if that makes sense.”
“It does.” My phone beeps and I snag it from the table as Kelsey continues, “See? Maybe there’s a chance for you two. Maybe you’ll have a proper working relationship.”
“Maybe,” I say as I see a text from Huxley. “Speak of the devil. He just texted me.”
I open the message and read it.
Huxley: Are you at your sister’s?
“He wants to know if I’m here with you.” I text back.
Lottie: Yes.
He’s quick on the trigger, and the dots appear right before his text message.
Huxley: I’m sending a car to get you. What are you wearing?
Lottie: Leggings and a crop top that was provided in my approved wardrobe. Do I need to borrow something from Kelsey?
Huxley: No. See you in fifteen.
“What’s going on?” Kelsey asks.
“I have no idea. He said he’ll see me in fifteen minutes. Something with Dave and Ellie probably. I feel like if he’s going to spring these things on me, I need more context so I can prepare.”
“Agreed. Ask him what’s going on.”
I shoot him another text.
Lottie: Can I have some idea about what we’ll be doing?
Huxley: Lamaze class. Hope you’re good at breathing.
“Oh shit.”
“What?” Kelsey asks.
I look up at her. “Lamaze class.”
She snorts and covers her nose. “To be a fly on the wall.”
I TAKE a seat in Huxley’s car and turn toward him as I buckle my seatbelt.
“What on earth—”
“Hey, baby,” Huxley says, leaning over to kiss me on the cheek. “How’s your sister doing?”
Oh yeah . . . there’s someone driving us. Act like the fiancée. When in doubt, from now on, always act like the fiancée.
“She’s good,” I say in a cheery voice. “Excited about Friday.” Wanting to get some information about what the hell we’re doing, I say, “This is an unexpected surprise.”
“I know how much you like surprises,” Huxley says and then turns to his phone.
Okay, so I guess that’s that.
I’m about to say something else to him, just to keep the conversation flowing so we don’t look like a lame couple, when my phone buzzes in my hand with a text. I glance down and see Huxley’s name on the screen.
Ooo, secret communications.
Huxley: This will be your first pregnancy class. You’re going just to try it out, and then we’ll get ice cream with Ellie and Dave after.
I’m glad he’s handing out information. The more I can prepare, the better.
Lottie: Can I ask how you got us wrangled into a pregnancy class?
Huxley: Ran into Dave at the coffee shop this morning. He told me he and Ellie were going to a class. I asked him which one and said we were thinking about taking that one. He told us to join and get ice cream after.
Lottie: What class was it?
Huxley: No fucking idea.
I chuckle and text him back.
Lottie: How do you know it’s good?
Huxley: I don’t. But I know since we have no clue what the fuck we’re doing, it’ll be good enough.
Lottie: Isn’t it a little early for a pregnancy class for me?
Huxley: Hell if I know. If anyone asks, just say we love education.
Lottie: How eloquent.
Huxley: Ask me a question, we’ve been too quiet on this ride.
Lottie: Uh . . . what did you have for breakfast?
Huxley: Jesus Christ. Out loud. Ask me a question out loud.
“Oh,” I say quietly and then chuckle. Facing Huxley, I ask, “How’s your rash doing?”
His eyes narrow and I have to hold back the straight-up outburst of laughter that threatens to slip past my lips.
“Rash is fine,” he answers through clenched teeth. “But now that you bring it up, is your yeast infection improving?”
Ohhh, he plays dirty.
“Faring well,” I answer. “Doctor said no sex for a week, though, but don’t worry, I won’t back out on my promise. I know how much you want to try out my vibrators.” A smirk crosses my lips. I find this far too entertaining. I pat him on the cheek. “I can grind your gears tonight, when we get home. You can light that lovemaking candle you enjoy so much.”
His nostrils flare, and I cover my mouth, protecting myself from an outburst.
“Sounds good to me. I know watching me come turns you on, but if you could refrain from sounding like a barnyard animal while I come, that would be great. The mooing is a weird habit you’ve picked up.”
“That was one time,” I say in defense. “And it’s because I watched that documentary on animals reproducing.”
“One time is enough,” he says, turning back to his phone. His fingers fly across the screen.
My phone buzzes.
Huxley: You realize I’m going to have to find a new driver now.
A hiccup of laughter pops out of me. This is the Huxley from Chipotle, from the sidewalk. This is the side of him I appreciate. The side of him I wish he would show way more often, because if he did, I’m certain we’d be friends.
Lottie: I’m pretty sure this conversation made my year. Also, I can run by the pharmacy tomorrow if you need more cream for your rash.
Huxley: If that’s how you want to play this, it’s on, Lottie. And remember, I’m relentless.
Lottie: I think you’ve met your match, Huxley Cane.
