by S. M. Shade
Karma can be magnificent, even when it comes in the form of a Frat Hell guy.
By the time I get home and shower, Wyatt is texting me.
Wyatt: I’ll be back in town in a few hours. Would it be okay if I spent the night?
Me: As long as you realize this is a total booty call.
Wyatt: I can live with that.
Me: I’ll probably be asleep. Door is unlocked.
Wyatt: See you soon.
After the last two days, I’m exhausted, and I barely notice when Wyatt climbs in bed with me a few hours later. I snuggle into him and fall right back to sleep.
Wyatt’s phone blares, piercing through the three a.m. silence, and I groan as he flips on the lamp and picks it up.
“Yeah?”
I can only hear his side of the conversation, but it doesn’t sound good. He sits up, and the sheet falls to his waist. “When? Is it out? No, no one should be inside. Yeah, I’m on my way.”
He’s on his feet in seconds, jerking on his clothes. “Wyatt? What’s wrong?”
“Scarlet Toys is on fire.”
His words take a second to sink in, but as soon as my tired brain catches up, I leap out of bed and jerk on a pair of shorts and a tee. Silence wraps itself around us as we hurry out to his car and head toward the building we’ve spent so much time working on.
The smell of smoke fills the air before we even get close, but the sight of the building with flames licking out of the front window is something I’ll never forget. Red lights flash across the darkened buildings and storefronts nearby, and a piercing siren dies off as another firetruck pulls into the lot.
A selfish thought strikes me. I’m probably going to lose my job and Wyatt in one night. The store is a bust, so why would he stay? The sharp ache I feel from that realization tells me it might be for the best. I wasn’t supposed to catch feelings for him.
An officer approaches us as soon as we get out of the car, and I recognize him from the time we had to call them on opening day. “Mr. Lawson,” the officer says, nodding at Wyatt.
“Any idea how it started?” Wyatt asks, remarkably calm for someone watching his business turning to ash.
“Not yet. Do you have anything flammable or potentially explosive inside? We’ve heard a few pops.”
Wyatt shakes his head. “No.”
“Um…” I interject. “It was probably the pressurized cans of flavored whip cream and body paint.”
The officer suppresses a grin as he nods and heads over to tell the firefighters the likely culprit. “Wyatt, I’m so sorry,” I tell him, sliding my hand into his.
His lips press together as he looks down at me. “This won’t stop me.”
“You think someone set it on fire?”
“Look.” He points to the windows. More than one is broken, and not just near the fire. Even the slim window on the back door is busted out. “That isn’t accidental.”
“Fucking protesters.”
“Most likely. I have insurance. I’ll rebuild and upgrade with a sprinkler system and better security.” A satisfied grin spreads across his face as he gestures to the light poles surrounding us. Each bears a camera, pointed at different sides of the building. “The assholes who did this are busted and they don’t even know it.”
“When did you install those?”
“Last week. Once I realized the protests weren’t going to die off like usual, I expected some vandalism. Not to this extent, though.” His chest rises on a deep sigh. “We have to start over.”
Guilt seizes me. How much of this is my fault? Wyatt left town for two days and everything went to hell. Rule number one was don’t antagonize the protesters, and I let it happen.
“I’m sorry. I tried to keep everything under control, but…”
“Hey.” Wyatt slides his palm against my cheek. “This isn’t your fault.”
“We had some trouble earlier. Noble and his buddies were antagonizing the protesters. They sprayed them with poison ivy.”
He steps back and blinks. “How the hell do you spray someone with poison ivy?”
“Soak it overnight in a bucket of water, then put the water in a squirt gun.”
I expect him to sigh or curse or something, so I’m completely taken off guard when he bursts out laughing. “That’s fucking genius. If I ever need a revenge scheme, I know who to go to. Did it work?”
“Yeah, a good amount of them were scratching and rashy by the end of the day.”
Wyatt chuckles. “I’m kind of sorry I missed it.”
“Jani has some video.” Yeah, I’ll let him see Fappy the dino for himself. No way I’m trying to explain that.
“Still, that has nothing to do with the fire. If it’s arson like we expect, I’m sure they would’ve done it anyway. They want us gone.”
“Maybe this isn’t the best town for your business,” I tell him. The words taste bad in my mouth. I don’t want the protesters to win. I like my job. I like my coworkers. I like Wyatt. I’m not ready to let any of that go.
His eyes blaze as they clash with mine. “I don’t give up, sweetheart. So don’t you dare.”
“How long do you think? Before we’ll be open again?” I’ll have to go to the temp service to find a job in the interim if it’s going to be more than a couple of weeks.
“I don’t know until we know whether it’s a total loss or not. It may be better to just tear it down and build again. The place was pretty old. If we have to do that, I’m guessing two months or so. If we can repair this structure, maybe a month if we’re lucky.”
Shit.
As if he’s reading my mind, he adds, “I’ll keep you, Jani, Clarence, and Martha on the payroll until we reopen. You’ve all done great, and I don’t want to lose good employees.”
My jaw drops as I step back. “You’re going to pay us when we aren’t working? Aren’t you going to lose money?”
He shrugs. “Not enough to make a difference to me. But I know it will to your friends. Plus, I don’t want to have to retrain and hire new people if they quit and go onto something else because they have to.”
Damn it, he’s such a nice guy. I was sure those didn’t exist anymore.
Firefighters shatter the front window and continue to douse the flames, which are starting to dwindle.
A fireman approaches us. “We’ve got it under control. We’ll have to watch for hot spots for a while, though, so you won’t be able to get in and examine the damage until tonight. You’ll want to get in touch with your insurance company.”
Wyatt thanks them and then asks me, “Where is the best place to go for donuts?”
Either this guy is truly unflappable, or he hides his emotions really well. He should be beyond pissed, the way I am, but he’s thinking about breakfast.
“Foster’s Bakery. Down town.” I glance at my phone to see it’s just past five a.m. “They just opened.”
He hooks an arm around my neck and we walk to his car. “Let’s go.”
The lady working the counter at the donut shop looks half asleep as she boxes up four dozen donuts and takes Wyatt’s money. “Hungry?” I tease.
“I figured the fireman and officers might be.” He shrugs and picks up the boxes.
“What?” he asks after we return to the car. I might’ve been staring at him again, waiting on him to spontaneously sprout wings or shining armor.
“Are you always so perfect? It’s kind of annoying.”
His laughter fills the car. “I’m far from perfect. I have more than most so it’s not like it’s a real sacrifice to give to others.”
My phone blares to life in my pocket. Who the hell is calling before six in the morning?
“What the hell is going on?” Jani demands as soon as I answer.
“Scarlet Toys is on fire.”
“No shit! Damn it! Was it the protesters?”
“We’re assuming.”
Wyatt parks in front of Scarlet Toys, which is now smoldering and smoking. He gets out of the car to take the do
nuts to the first responders while I talk to Jani.
“I guess we’re job hunting again. Fuck. I’d rather shit in my hands and clap,” she moans.
“Actually, Wyatt said he’s going to continue paying us while he rebuilds. He doesn’t want anyone to quit.”
The information must stun her into silence because it’s a few seconds before she replies, “You’re kidding.”
“Nope, dead serious.”
“You better blow that man until the top of his head pops off.”
“I’ll take that into consideration,” I laugh. “I’ve got to go. I’ll talk to you later.”
Wyatt walks up and hands me a napkin with a donut tucked inside before leaning against his car and taking a bite of his.
The sun is starting to come up, illuminating the scene in front of us. Scorched dildos, lingerie, and random sex toys lay scattered across the lot. Most are melted and misshapen, the rubber and plastic bubbled up.
“It looks like the inventory is a total loss, but not the building. It’ll take the inspectors and insurance adjusters a week or so to get everything worked out. There’s not much I can do here in the meantime, so I’m going to spend a few days back in Indianapolis,” Wyatt tells me.
“Is this going to screw things up between you and your father?”
“No, he’ll rub it in a bit, since this is the reason he won’t open stores in small towns, but he knows I won’t give up.” He flashes me that devastating smile. “It’s not in my nature.”
“I talked to Jani. She knows what happened. Would you like me to call Martha and Clarence?”
Wyatt nods. “If you wouldn’t mind. I have a bunch of calls to make before we get ready to leave.”
Wait, what?
“We?”
He grins at me. “Did I forget to mention you’re coming with me?”
“You must have. Is there anything else I’m doing that you forgot to mention?”
He tilts his head back and scratches his chin. “Let’s see. You’re going to Indy with me, we’re going to hang out and relax, and have lots of dirty sex.”
Grabbing his waistband, I pull him toward me. “Anything else I should know?”
He shrugs. “Road head is a given.”
“Not sure I could drive with you doing that, but yes, I’d like to go with you. Since you asked so nicely.” I stand on my toes and plant a soft kiss on his lips. His gaze darkens a little when I look him in the eye and ask, “Are you okay?”
His chest rises and falls on a deep sigh. “I’m pissed.”
“Good. So am I.”
“And I want to take you home and nail you to the bed.”
“After you make your phone calls,” I promise, and smack him on the ass. “I’ll call the others.”
“Tell them I’ll put their checks in the mail weekly and be in touch when we’re ready to re-open.”
Wyatt’s place in Indianapolis really opens my eyes to how different we are. I expected a big house, but the fancy, down town penthouse outdoes anything I anticipated. He has his own private elevator that empties into a foyer half the size of my apartment.
“We’ll just drop off our bags, then head over to meet with my father.”
My head jerks up. “You want me to go with you? To meet your father?”
“Unless you’d rather not. I’d like to introduce him to the manager who can handle anything,” he replies with a grin.
I don’t know whether to be relieved or disappointed. There’s definitely a bit of both emotions running through me as I take a deep breath. For a second, I thought he was introducing me to his father, like a girlfriend or someone important to him. It makes sense he would want to show him one of his new hires. I really need to stop reading too much into this trip.
Wyatt shows me around the penthouse. His living room is a bachelor’s dream with a large sectional couch wrapped around a coffee table. A massive television hangs from the wall and multiple gaming systems rest on a shelf underneath.
“You’re a total gamer nerd, aren’t you?”
“I’m a tech nerd,” he corrects, leading me into the kitchen.
He isn’t kidding. His kitchen is full of bright, shiny appliances that would look completely at home in a futuristic movie. The refrigerator has a damn touchscreen on the front. “Wow, do you like to cook or is a robot chef going to pop out of a cabinet and start making dinner?”
“Nah, I save the robots for the bedroom.”
“As long as it’s a male robot. I don’t like vagina, metal or otherwise.”
Grabbing me around the waist, he pulls me against him and the smile on his face makes me want to strip him. “You have a smart comeback for everything, don’t you?”
“It’s a gift.” I shrug, trying to conceal the response he always seems to elicit from me.
He drops a kiss on my lips and steps back. “Make yourself at home. I’ve got to get some paperwork together and then we’ll go.”
“Sure.”
Make myself at home? This place is so upscale and pristine, I’m afraid to touch anything. I feel like a kid in a curio shop where one wrong move could destroy everything. I wander into the living room and take a seat on a couch. I can’t help but run my hands over the material. It’s so soft it’s like petting a blow dried baby duck.
I assumed Wyatt didn’t exactly do without anything, but sitting in his penthouse, surrounded by all this splendor I’ve never even come into contact with before, I realize he’s much better off than I thought. It’s a good thing our little fling is temporary because I can’t imagine I could ever fit into his world.
I glance down at my clothes. I’m just wearing jeans and a tee shirt, my usual go to outfit, but I suddenly feel like a poor urchin drug in off the street.
Wyatt pops into the room juggling a briefcase and a few file folders. “Shit,” he murmurs as he drops one and the papers scatter across the floor.
“Come on Lawson, get it together,” I tease, and pick up a sheet that landed near me.
My jaw drops and I feel my heart speed up at the sight of the company letterhead.
It takes me a moment to find my voice. “Cavenite Entertainment? I—your company is Cavenite Entertainment?”
Cavenite is a household name. They not only own and operate adult entertainment stores, but also own multiple production companies, both in television and music. They created one of the first and most popular streaming services for movies and television, and that’s just the tip of the iceberg. They have their hands in so many industries, they’re often spoken of in the same breath as Disney or Amazon.
The heirs to the Cavenite fortune—Vince and Wyatt Cavenite—have graced the covers of magazines since they were children. How did I not realize before who he is?
Looking up at him, I utter, “You’re Wyatt Cavenite. Not Lawson.”
A cautious expression steals across his face. “Lawson is my middle name.”
“What—why didn’t you tell me?”
With a sigh, he pulls me down to sit beside him on the couch. God, his father is a billionaire. The couch might actually be made from baby ducks.
“Because I wanted to be successful without using my father’s name. It opens doors for me that I’d rather pry open myself. And because of the way people treat me, like I’m a different species because my family has money.” The corner of his lip tucks in and he gazes at me. “Because of the look on your face right now.”
Damn. He’s right. “Pfft, like I’m so impressed by your fancy shmancy stuff.”
A small grin cracks his lips.
“I have to know one thing though. And I want to know the truth.” He bites his lip, waiting for me to continue. “What is this couch made of? Because I don’t think I can hang out with someone who murders baby ducks.”
His face blanks for a few seconds before he breaks into laughter. “What the hell are you talking about?”
My hand travels across the creamy soft material. “It’s the softest thing I’ve ever felt.”
“So it must be made of baby ducks?”
“Oh no. It’s bunnies isn’t it?”
Cracking up again, he pulls me to my feet. “I have no idea what my couch is made from. This place belonged to my brother before me, and he hired a decorator. I’m rarely here. I prefer my cabin on Monroe Lake. In fact, after I finish what needs done here, I was thinking we’d head down there.”
“You have a lake house?”
“Yeah, I’m not a big fan of living in the city. Would you like to go? We can swim and go fishing or just lie around and relax. In between marathon sex sessions of course. If you’d rather stay here—”
“You had me at marathon sex,” I interrupt, holding up my hand.
“All right then. Let’s go meet my father, then we’ll spend the night here and leave in the morning.”
Following him back to the elevator, I glance down at my clothing again. Once we’re inside and headed down to the parking garage, I can’t help but ask, “I—I’m not exactly dressed to visit a multibillion dollar company. Your father is going to think you drug me in off the street.”
Wyatt faces me and places his hands on my shoulders. His eyes lock onto mine. “No, he’s not like that. There’s nothing wrong with what you’re wearing. The only thing he’s going to wonder is how I got such a beautiful woman to put up with me.”
My hand travels to wrap around his neck. “You are completely full of shit,” I tell him, punctuating my words with a long kiss that makes him groan.
“Are you calling me a liar?” I don’t have a chance to reply before he’s kissing me, his hand kneading my ass.
“Yep. I’m sure women are throwing themselves at your feet.” I bring my lips to his neck and tug on the hair at his nape.
“Not for the right reasons.”
He steps forward, making me back up against the wall of the elevator. “Are we arguing?” I ask as he grips my ass harder and sucks at my collarbone.
“Best argument ever,” he murmurs.