First Comes Love (New Castle Book 1)

by Lydia Michaels

  By some miraculous magic she beat her boss to the office. As he entered he frowned at her, his white bushy brows spreading a fat shadow over his crinkled eyes. “Kat, are you feeling all right this morning?”

  “Just running a little behind today,” she said in the calmest voice she could manage. “Go ahead in your office and I’ll bring you your coffee as soon as it’s done brewing.”

  His eight o’clock arrived before the coffee was finished perking and he had to start his session without it, which was all her fault. She checked the messages and sorted Saturday’s mail. At nine o’clock she brought Dr. Stevens his coffee and he, again, frowned at her appearance. “Maybe you should go home for the day.”

  She couldn’t miss a day’s pay. “Oh, no, Dr. Stevens. I’m okay. I promise.”

  He didn’t appear convinced. When his next appointment arrived she took a few minutes to rest her head on her desk. Wearily, she rubbed the back of her neck, trying to work out the tension knotting there.

  For her to look bad enough that her boss questioned her health was pretty low on the scale of vanity. Add another check in the column of confidence building moments in the sorry life of Kat D’Angelo. She visited the bathroom with her purse and winced at her reflection. She looked atrocious.

  Wetting her palms, she attempted to tame the wild mess that was her hair. She pulled the snarls as tight as she could then secured them in a ponytail with a rubber band from her desk. It took care of the frizz, but made her puffy eyes more prominent. She had no makeup with her aside from lipstick, so there wasn’t much of an improvement.

  Digging in her purse for some Motrin, she stumbled across the ticket from that morning. As her gaze settled on the total she almost vomited. A hundred and fifty dollars!

  Her vision blurred as she continued to search for anything that might relieve the tension headache suddenly shifting into a migraine. How was she going to afford that fine? She could fight it, but then she’d lose a day of work in court, and she’d probably lose the case anyway. She hadn’t come to a complete stop and she definitely wasn’t wearing her seat belt.

  She worked in complete silence, sniffling away. Luckily their office didn’t get a lot of foot traffic and her desk partially faced the wall, wiping her eyes before each tear fell. By the end of the day her eyes were raw, red rimmed, and marked with bags. Her face was splotched with hives. She pulled the rubber band out of her hair and grimaced at the clump of hair that came with it.

  I just want this day to be over.

  As she pulled onto their street her car slowly crawled past Tyson’s house. It was dark and no cars were in the driveway. Mia seemed to detect something was off and walked quietly into the cottage.

  “Mia, Mommy doesn’t feel good. Why don’t you go play so I can lie down?”

  Curling into a ball on the couch she rested her eyes for a bit, but the headache didn’t ease. When she opened the pantry she cursed, reminded for the second time that she didn’t go to the market. It was obviously not the day for a routine. Grabbing can of tomato soup she heated it. After dinner, Kat took the trash out and noticed Tyson still wasn’t home.

  For as tired as she was, sleep seemed elusive. Tyson hadn’t stopped by or called. Not that he could have without knowing her number. A sad sigh slipped into the darkness. This wasn’t Ty’s fault. It was hers. She should have never wasted the day yesterday. If she would have just gone to the market and done everything she needed to do, her day could have gone much smoother. Tomorrow, after work she’d just have to go to the store with Mia and stay up a little later catching up on chores.

  Her face pressed into the pillows, the faint scent of Tyson still clinging to the linen. That right there, was the first thing that made her smile all day.

  “These look great, Ty.”

  Tyson took the plans from Imani as she stood from her chair at the conference table and stretched. Long arms extended toward the ceiling like black licorice as the sharp angles of her face contorted in a yawn.

  They’d been back and forth over the layout for the renovations to her secondary home for the past six months. It was a relief to finally produce something she was happy with, because Imani Jones was no easy woman to please.

  She made a show of looking at her diamond-studded wristwatch. Her short, black hair took on a glossy sheen as she tipped her head and rolled her shoulders with the grace of a sleek panther. “Wow, it’s almost ten o’clock. Tracy, you can go home.”

  Her personal assistant looked relieved and quickly gathered the coffee paraphernalia from the room and left.

  Imani rested her narrow frame against the conference table and leaned back, arching her long spine, and pressing her palms into the expensive cherry wood. Sighing, her tapered ebony legs crossed and she rolled her head back as if relieving all of the day’s tension. Round, perky breasts filled out her top to perfection.

  Her plump, neutral lips permitted a slight curve. It was the closest expression Imani had to a smile. “Did you eat, Ty?”

  Sidestepping her offer with an air of disinterest, he stood and retrieved his blueprints. Hoping to catch Kat before she went to bed, he casually said, “Not yet, but I need to get going.”

  Twisting her long neck, she eyed him from over the shoulder of her red tailored suit and purred, “Can I tempt you with a glass of wine?”

  Not going there. “Sorry, no.”

  He reached for the remaining papers on the table where Imani’s substantial ass had them pinned. It took some work to have a body as tight as hers and still manage to keep an ass worth grabbing. “Imani…” He motioned to his paperwork under her rear and waited for her to lift.

  With a coy glance, she slightly lifted herself, and pouted. “You’re no fun anymore, Tyson.”

  He opened his briefcase and ignored her comment.

  “I know how much you enjoy this table. Why not stay a bit longer? Everyone’s gone for the night.”

  Shutting his briefcase, he eyed his watch, wasting no time on memories of how they had utilized the conference table in the past. He wanted to make it home before eleven.

  She made a show of turning her lean, athletic body. She was not a woman who enjoyed being told no. The same persistent qualities that earned her a partnership at Welsh & Troche—now Welsh, Troche & Jones—were the same qualities she displayed with her lovers, of which he’d been at one time. She was not one of those women who checked their ‘in charge’ attitude at the bedroom door. And while he might have enjoyed her company at one time, that time was over.

  Imani was demanding, severe, and almost impossible to please in all areas. Several months ago he made the mistake of pleasing her very well after a meeting. They’d been laying out the preliminaries for her new home. He’d been exhausted, pulling several late nights in order to finish another job and contract Imani’s project before someone else had a chance to bid. Once they signed the deal she put the charm on full throttle and he, having been in a bit of dry spell, found himself hard pressed to say no.

  Within two hours of accepting her advances he’d fucked her every way a woman could be fucked. She was insatiable and liked things a little rough, which was fine. But he wasn’t her callboy. She’d scratched an itch that needed scratching and he’d done the same for her. End of story.

  He tried to keep his tone professional. “We should be able to break ground in about thirty days once I get the suppliers and permits in order. You’re looking at the end of July, maybe August, as a completion date.”

  She pursed her lips. “That long?”

  “Imani, you’re asking me to sacrifice a crew and per diem wages for a job you could’ve easily bid to a D.C contractor. The distance from here to Washington’s going to eat up a lot of our time. If you want me to oversee various stages of the job, you’re going to have to be patient. I can’t be there for the duration, but I’ll be there when I need to be. We discussed this when I agreed to the job. Besides, you spent twice that long deciding on a design.”

  “July fifteenth
.”

  “The completion date can’t be set in stone. It’s non-negotiable. If you want me to do the job we do it on my timeline. And I expect you here in Pennsylvania for the duration, not on site hounding my guys.”

  She attempted to stare him down, but he wasn’t budging. “Fine, but I want you there for my final inspection. I expect things to look exactly as we discussed. You may be paying their wages, but I’m paying yours, Mr. Adams, and don’t you forget it.”

  Ignoring the sudden drop in temperature, he let her sulk.

  As he drove home he thought about the way he left Kat. Her fear of her mother’s judgment was ridiculous. He couldn’t wrap his brain around a grown woman reverting back to such childish fright. It was irrational and he’d tried to reason with her, but the midst of her panic attack was not the time for lectures.

  He wasn’t angry with her or upset. He didn’t get it, but tried to understand why she was the way she was. If there ever came a day he met Kat’s mom, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his tongue in check if she was really as bad as Kat made her seem.

  He cared for Kat, that much was clear. They were rounding the bases at a teenager’s pace, but he liked that. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually made out or felt up a girl, under the shirt, over the bra, and experienced that sharp longing.

  He turned onto the bypass and adjusted his cock in his pants. Sooner or later he was going to need some satisfaction. Jerking off in the shower, imagining Kat’s sexy ass and plush spread thighs could only take him so far. It had become a fascination of his, Kat’s sexual awakening. He was thoroughly enjoying the slow journey and couldn’t wait to take the next step, but each time he pulled back the reward increased in value. He wanted her and sooner or later she’d be his.

  Kat woke up on time, but was still moving at a slugs pace. Her period arrived in the middle of the night and, of course, she was almost out of tampons. Still out of cereal, she had to make pancakes again. If she didn’t get to the market soon, she was going to run out of pancake mix as well. Slow, but steady, she dressed for work and got Mia ready for the day.

  After loading Mia into the car and climbing behind the wheel, she started the car and backed out of the driveway. When she put the car in drive, it died.

  I forgot to get fucking gas!

  The steering wheel smacked against her forehead. Complete defeat swamped her, extinguishing her last flicker of forced enthusiasm. She could not do another day like the day before. Keeping her head on the wheel, she growled and began to cry.

  “Momma?” Mia’s small voice came from the backseat.

  “What, baby?” Kat tried to compose herself. It wasn’t happening.

  “What are we doing?” Her question only made her feel like more of a failure, wringing out another string of shuddered sobs. “What’s wrong, Momma?”

  Taking a deep breath, she wiped her face. So much for makeup. How had something as simple as getting to work avalanched into something she could no longer handle?

  She rubbed her temples and tried to think of what to do as she saw Tyson climbing into his work truck. Guilt and fear added to her upset.

  She was so tired of feeling guilty, tired of trying to keep everyone happy, tired of coming up short when it came to being an adult. She just wanted to say fuck it and let someone else deal with all the crap that needed to be done.

  His truck slowed next to her little car as he leaned out the window. “Did your car break down?”

  “I ran out of gas.”

  He said something she couldn’t make out and pulled to the curb. As he walked toward her car Kat instructed Mia to stay put and got out as well. The moment Tyson saw her face he scowled. “Are you okay? What the hell happened?”

  Upset that she looked bad enough to get a reaction like that two days in a row, she welled up and choked out, “I had a really bad day.”

  He laughed. “It’s seven a.m.”

  She wished she could find the humor in her ridiculous statement. Her attempt at laughter came out as a jagged sob. “It’s been going on for thirty-six hours.”

  “Aw, come here, kitten. Don’t cry.” He pulled her into a hug.

  She clung to his strong form, greedily taking the offered comfort, knowing it was dangerous to depend on him for such things. His palm soothed her back as his lips pressed into her hair. She needed to pull it together, but a gate had opened and she was pretty sure the hinges and latch washed away.

  “What happened?”

  “Everything,” she mumbled into his shirt. He always smelled so good.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “No.”

  “Okay.”

  Still, her words followed a shuddering breath. “It all started after you left. I felt really bad for blowing you off and I was going to call, but I don’t even know your phone number,” she blubbered. “I couldn’t sleep and I thought I’d walk over to your house to apologize, but it was the middle of the night and it was dark. I got scared and went back in like a big fat chicken, but I still couldn’t sleep. The next morning I overslept and turned into a frizz ball. I forgot Mia’s Dora bag and was already late from the pancakes. By the time I was almost at work I got pulled over and got a hundred and fi—fif—fifty-dollar fucking ticket, which I don’t have the money to pay. I scared my boss and didn’t have his coffee. A clump of hair fell out and I had to feed Mia tomato soup. Then I got my…” she caught herself, a little late, but at least before she started talking about her cramps and stuff no man wanted to hear about. “Everything just sucks, okay? And now I’m out of ga—” Hiccup. “—gas.”

  Gibberish continued to spew from her lips in the form of nonsense words and syllables that didn’t even make sense to her, as she started to bawl.

  “Okay, okay.” He patted her back and pressed her head to his shoulder. He twisted around and the car door squeaked. “Okay, Mia, out of the car. Mommy doesn’t feel good.”

  Shifting her under his arm, he scooped Mia up with his other arm, settling her on his hip, and walked them back inside. One-handed, he directed her to bed and covered her, all while holding Mia.

  “I’m going to take Mia to Mrs. Bradshaw’s then I’m going to move your car. I’ll be right back,” he whispered, as he pressed a kiss to her damp cheek.

  Too emotionally exhausted to object, she merely nodded. She couldn’t take any more. She just wanted someone else to deal with all the stress, the groceries, the chores, the cooking, and gassing up her car. She rarely gave into moments of self-pity, but right now the pity parade was in full swing and there was no calling back the weariness stomping over her.

  She must have dozed, because when she woke up a little while later Tyson was rubbing her calve through the blanket as he sat on the edge of her bed.

  “That was fast,” she groggily said.

  “You think? It’s eight-fifteen. That Mrs. Bradshaw can talk.”

  “What?” Her body tensed as it fought with her need to get up. She could not believe she went back to bed. What was she thinking? The entire episode played back in her head like an out of body experience.

  “Relax, Relax. Everything’s fine.” He eased her back down on the bed.

  “I have to call Dr. Stevens—”

  “Already done. When I dropped Mia off, Mrs. Bradshaw said she had the number and called to let him know you wouldn’t be coming in. I also filled your tank. I called my crew and told them I wouldn’t be on the job site until noon, so is there anything else you need? I’m at your disposal.”

  Dumbly, she blinked. “Why are you doing all this?”

  “What do you mean?” He frowned. “This is what friends do.”

  “But after the way I threw you out the other day and—”

  “Don’t worry about that now. I may not completely understand your relationship with your parents or this hold they have over you, but it’s not my place to tell you how to run your life. Forget it. It’s over.” He tucked the blankets up closer to her chin. In a soothing voice
he asked, “Do you feel better?”

  Kat eyed him doubtfully. No one was that understanding. “A little. Thank you.” He’d never know how grateful she truly was for his help.

  “Is there anything you need?”

  Yeah, tampons, groceries, a hundred and fifty bucks to pay a traffic ticket— “No. You should go to work.”

  “Kat, you know… it’s okay to ask me for help. I care about you. I don’t want you to shut me out. You can talk to me.”

  “Thanks. I’m fine. I just had a really bad day yesterday and I’m still recovering. On top of that, I didn’t get any of my errands done on Sunday so my routine’s all messed up. Now, that I have the day off I can run to the market and grab what we need for the week. I’ll rest a little and tomorrow I’ll be as good as new.” She had no other choice. These moments of indulgent weakness were not allowed in her life.

  “Are you sure?” His expression said he didn’t believe her.

  She pushed for her most convincing smile. “Yeah, I’m sure. Thanks again. You really saved me this morning.”

  She wasn’t used to others taking care of her and she was starting to really like the feeling, which was dangerous. How many times would she have to learn depending on others always ended with her getting hurt?

  “Well, how about after work tonight I swing by with a pizza so you don’t have to cook?”

  “Oh, that would be—shit.”

  She looked at him, shame smothering her all over again. She was such an asshole. “Today’s Tuesday. I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “I, uh, have plans.”

  His brow lifted. “Plans?”

  “I have… a date,” she muttered, avoiding his gaze.

  He stiffened. “I see. With Dawson?”

  “Yeah, he called to ask me out the other night. He’s taking me to—”

  “I don’t need the details.”