Buddy stared at her, demonstrating he very much did not get it.
“The Duchess of Cambridge? Prince William’s wife? The future queen of England?”
Ty had heard enough. He gripped Middleton’s upper arm, ignoring the jolt of electricity that shot up his hand. “We’re leaving now, okay?”
“Okay.” Middleton pulled out her phone. “Just let me find a picture of Kate Middleton to show Sam.”
“We don’t have time for this, you need to go to bed.”
“Hang on a minute.” Sam moved toward him. He was tall enough that he and Ty were eye-to-eye. “Just because you’re Katie’s boss, doesn’t mean you can tell her what to do.”
“Yes, it does.”
Buddy’s forehead wrinkled. “Well, yeah but, like, not when you’re not working.”
“We’re on a work trip.”
“Yeah, but like, she’s at a pub. She’s not at work.”
In other circumstances, this might have been funny, but the last of Ty’s patience was waning. He tugged Middleton’s arm. “You done?”
She shook her head. The fruity scent of her hair washed over him like a strawberry haze. “Hurry up.”
“I will, I’ll just be a sec!”
Sam looked from her to Ty. He flexed his sinewy upper arms. “Why don’t you get out of here? I can look after Katie.”
Ty released his hold on Middleton. “Is that right?”
“Yeah, why don’t you fuck off?”
For all his big words, the kid looked uneasy. Just like his mates, he was all talk, too green to hold his own, too young to shut his fucking mouth. Ty got a nice firm grip on the kid’s neck, one that could be mistaken for paternal comradery. “From what I heard, the only ‘looking after’ you were planning on doing involved your friends and a webcam.”
Buddy’s face contracted. He didn’t look like a big man anymore, he looked like what he was—an overgrown kid with more hormones than sense. “You didn’t…I wasn’t…how d’you know…?”
“Your mates are drunk, Trigger, and something tells me they’d be shit at keeping secrets even if they weren’t.”
The kid’s gaze darted toward the beer garden. “That was a joke.”
“Ha-ha-fucking-ha.” Ty tightened his grip on the kid’s neck. “Think Middleton’d like to hear your joke Trigger? Think she’d find it funny?”
Buddy glanced at Middleton, who was thankfully still doddering away on her phone, completely oblivious to their conversation.
“Don’t look at her,” Ty said. “Look at me. Explain to me why you were going to violate a woman for no other reason than it would entertain your fucking friends.”
“Come on, man, I wasn’t going to do that. We’re not even going back to the dorms, we’re gonna go back to Katie’s hotel room.”
“No. You’re leaving, and you’re never coming near Middleton again, understood?”
Sam looked like he wanted to protest. Ty squeezed his hand, compressing the nerves in the kid’s neck, feeling his spinal cord go taut. “I said, understood?”
The kid scowled at him, then nodded.
“Good.” Ty let go of his neck. “Now fuck off.”
But before the kid could leave, Middleton shoved her phone in their faces. “Here we go, royal wedding!”
Startled, Buddy jerked his head, making Middleton drop her phone on the floor. “Shit, sorry, Katie.”
“It’s okay.” Middleton got down on her knees and began looking for it.
Ty rolled his eyes. “I reckon that’s your cue to leave, Trig.”
“But—”
“Found my phone!” Middleton thrust the device into the air. Ty looked down to see her beaming at him from her knees. His first thought was of her smiling like that before going to town on his cock. The second was that something about her was off. Her pupils were blasted—big as black holes and shiny bright. “Middleton, are you on drugs?”
“No!” She looked shocked at the suggestion.
Ty believed her, but her voice was blurry and her eyes were gleaming like wet tar. What could she be on? He hadn’t seen her drink anything tonight, all throughout dinner she’d sipped raspberry lemonade like a nine-year-old.
A dark thought occurred to him and he grabbed Sam’s upper arm, too furious to make it look like anything but a threat. “You give her something?”
“No!” Buddy looked as shocked as Middleton. “Never! I wouldn’t even know where to get stuff like that!”
“Don’t fucking lie to me, Buddy.”
“I’m not! I swear!”
“You know…” Middleton knelt up a little straighter. “You know, it’s weird, Mr Henderson, but sometimes when I drink and take Ritalin, I have blackouts. I look normal, but I’m checked out inside. I once ordered a pizza, ate half, wrapped up the leftovers and when I woke up, I thought someone had broken in to my Aunt’s apartment and left a thin crust Mexicana in my fridge.”
Both he and Buddy stared at her.
“You’re on Ritalin?” Buddy asked, echoing Ty’s thoughts.
“Yeah, totally. Yeah.” Her voice had the dreamy, checked-out quality of the stoned.
Ty released his hand from Buddy’s arm. “Why are you on Ritalin?”
“Oh, I need it for my brain!” Middleton wrinkled her delicate nose. “Oh, I shouldn’t have told you that, Mr Henderson, please don’t tell any of the other guys?”
Ty compressed his eyelids together as tight as he could, hating everything and everyone, primarily himself. He opened his eyes. “Middleton, can you please just get up so we can leave?”
His employee looked down at herself, as though puzzled to find she was still on the floor. “Oh. Maybe.”
Ty watched her struggle for a few seconds, then against all his better judgment, extended a hand. She took it, her skin unnaturally soft, the bones in her fingers as delicate as a bird’s. Ty knew he was filing that information away for unsavoury purposes and hated himself a little more. As soon as she was on her feet he dropped her hand. “Let’s go.”
“Okay.” Middleton turned to Buddy, wobbling slightly like a newborn foal. “Want to come back to my hotel room with me?”
The kid beamed as though he’d just been handed a free pint. “Sur—”
“No, he fucking doesn’t!” Ty snarled. “You can’t fuck someone if you’re off your head on pills!”
She gave him a sugary ‘I’m a good girl’ smile, the kind that haunted his jerk off sessions. “I’m fine! The fuzziness goes away pretty fast.”
“That doesn’t fuckin’ matter. Besides, Buddy has a big exam tomorrow. He needs to go home and study, don’t you, mate?”
Buddy glared at him. “My name’s…yeah, yeah I do have to study. Sorry, Katie.”
Middleton sighed prettily. “That’s bad luck, good night kiss?”
He smirked. “Sure.”
They moved toward one another and the awareness that Middleton was going to suck face with her would-be webcam predator in front of him snapped something inside Ty.
“Okay, we’re done here.” He bent down, grabbed her around her middle and threw her over his shoulder. Buddy made a noise of outrage but Middleton merely tapped his back. “Mr Henderson, can you please put me down so I can kiss—”
“No. Say goodbye to Buddy.”
He felt her body turn in Buddy’s direction. “Goodbye, Buddy. Good luck with rugby!”
“I…but…?” The younger man caught sight of Ty’s face and fell silent.
“He’s really nice,” Middleton said as he strode toward the front door.
“No, he isn't.”
The remaining patrons were so drunk they barely noticed a man carrying a girl out of the pub but behind the bar Sandy let out a theatrical snort. “You did get a better offer then? Bit young, isn’t she?”
Ty thought it better not to respond.
“Who was that?” Middleton asked, as he walked them down the mercifully empty street toward the hotel.
Ty ignored her. “Can you walk?”
/>
“Um, maybe?”
He groaned and hefted her a little higher on his shoulder. He couldn’t put her down only to have her collapse, but carrying her like this was a long way from professional; the sooner he dropped her off at her room, the better.
She tapped his back again. “Mr Henderson, I’m not what that woman said. I know I have freckles, but I’m twenty-five. That’s super legal.”
Ty clenched his teeth and willed himself to walk as fast as he could on footpaths still slick with afternoon rain. Why did she have to call him ‘Mr Henderson?’ Everyone at work called each other by their nicknames. To the other staff at GGS, he was ‘Hendo,’ ‘Nirvana’ or ‘Ty.’ He didn’t want her calling him those things, but hearing her say ‘Mr Henderson’ in her sexy little girl lisp was worse.
Middleton tapped his back in a line, like she was playing itsy bitsy spider. “Mr Henderson, why’re you helping me? You don’t even like me. I’m pretty sure you hate me.”
Ty stayed silent.
“You know how I know? You never talk to me. You won’t look at me. You always schedule jobs, so we never have to go out to sites together. Sometimes I see you glaring at me like you’re trying to give me cancer with your eyes. Is any of that ringing a bell?”
Again, Ty said nothing. He had an arm slung across Middleton’s thighs, and he could feel the muscles twitching beneath her skin. She had good legs, as far as he could make out through her endless pairings of thick patterned tights and knee-length skirts. Maybe she got them from roller derby. He entertained himself for a second, picturing what she wore when she played. He’d never seen a game, but he’d always had a thing for girls wearing roller skates. Sometimes when he was cranking one out he imagined sitting on a chair and having a girl ride him with nothing but skates on, the wheels spinning uselessly in the air as he fucked her…
“Are you carrying me like this because you used to be a firebag?”
That got Ty’s attention. “What?”
“A firebag,” Middleton repeated. “Shoot, I mean a firebag.”
He heard a soft smack that told him she’d slapped her own forehead. “Fireman,” she gasped. “I mean fireman, sorry, I feel weird.”
“Ritalin does that to you?” Ty asked, unable to help himself.
“No, I had a couple of vodka raspberries, it’s been a while since I’ve been drunk.”
“I didn’t see you drink anything.”
There was a short pause. “How do you know? Were you watching me?”
Ty clenched his jaw and vowed not to speak again.
“Anyway, back to my original point about you hating me.” Middleton’s voice was as bright as if they were discussing newborn puppies. “I kind of get why we never talk. I mean, we don’t have anything in common. I’m a girl, and you’re all ‘I’m Tyler Henderson. I’m from Regional Queensland! I never smile!’”
She said all this in a gruff attempt at a man’s voice, her body stiff as though she was flexing her muscles. “Or maybe you’re just like all the other guys on the crew, and you hate having a girl around because you can’t rearrange your testicles in front of everyone anymore.”
Ty was so surprised she said ‘testicles’, he almost dropped her. “That’s not true,” he told her. “No one resents you being there.”
Though they did tend to adjust themselves more freely when she wasn’t.
Middleton made a soft clucking noise with her tongue. “You still hate me. Admit it!”
I do, Ty thought. I hate working with you. I’d love for you to get another job. Just take your long hair and jiggly tits and sweet smile and get the fuck away from me. I had enough problems before I started panting after your ass like a stray dog, and after tonight I’m only gonna have more.
Silence fell between them as Ty cursed the distance between the pub and the hotel; it hadn’t seemed this fucking far when he walked over. Middleton’s fingertips traced his back once more, making the hairs on Ty’s neck stand on end. “This is a beautiful coat. Where did you get it?”
Distracted by her touch, he said, “Ireland, my ex picked it out for me.”
“Is that your ex-fiancée that no one is allowed to talk about?”
Ty said nothing.
“Hmm, well, either way, it suits you. It makes you look like, I don’t know…”
A stranger you fall in love with on the train, Veronica’s voice whispered in his ear. My perfect gentleman, Tyler.
“Sherlock Holmes,” Middleton concluded. “Like the Benedict Cumberbatch version of Sherlock Holmes. Only you don’t have a sly badger face.”
“Right.”
They were silent after that. Ty walked as fast as he could and after a few minutes spotted the lights that marked the main street hotel. He congratulated himself on a job well done and patted Middleton’s foot. “We’re close to the hotel now. I’m gonna put you down, okay?”
There was no reply.
Ty shook her a little. “Middleton?”
No response.
“Shit.” He slid her off his shoulder and held her in front of him. Her eyelids were closed, her breathing was even. He groaned. “You can’t do this to me, you just can’t.”
But she had, she’d passed out less than ten meters from her hotel room, and she didn’t have a handbag on her. He couldn’t rummage through her clothes for a keycard. He couldn’t call anyone to take her off his hands. He recalled that quote about how saving a man’s life made you responsible for him. He’d already saved Middleton from becoming an involuntary pornstar, he couldn’t abandon her to the freezing cold. As far as he could see, he had only one option.
He raised a palm to his forehead and hit himself a couple of times, then he hoisted Middleton back over his shoulder and walked toward the hotel. His room was as cold and bland as he’d left it, the bed made, his leather overnight bag on the side table. He dumped Middleton on the hard navy couch and studied her for a moment. Her dark hair was spread around her like a mourner’s veil and her eyelids were flickering with the telltale signs of REM. She had very long, dark lashes. Ty stared at her for a beat too long, then walked away shaking his head. Hopefully, she’d wake up after a couple of hours, realise what she’d done and sneak back to her room to avoid embarrassment. If not? Well, maybe waking up in his hotel room after blacking out would finally motivate her to seek employment elsewhere.
Ty flicked on the light, took a piss and brushed his teeth. He made as much noise as possible, hoping to wake Middleton up, but she dozed on. Unable to sleep naked the way he normally did, he pulled a fresh t-shirt and underwear from his bag and changed in the bathroom. His cock was heavy against his thigh, throbbing with an unwelcome eagerness. Bad thoughts swooped through his head like the fruit bats he could hear chattering outside. He ignored them, dressing and climbing into bed, pulling the cold sheets over his chest. When he closed his eyes it occurred to him that a gentleman would have let Middleton have the bed. He sat up, prepared to change places, then grimaced and fell back against the mattress. No matter what Veronica said, he wasn’t a gentleman. Not anymore.
Chapter 2
Kate had no idea where she was. Most women would be distressed by that, but for her, it was as familiar as donning her old school uniform. When she was a teenager, drinking and smoking sticky lumps of weed was the only thing that numbed her boiling hyperactivity. She had been a fifty-five-kilogram girl with the drug tolerance of a Keebler elf, so she passed out a lot. Once, at a house party, she’d climbed the stairs to the guest bedroom and fallen asleep on the carpet. Brent’s mother had found her the next day and they’d both screamed fit to bring the house down. Another time she’d blacked out in the bathroom at a Chinese restaurant and had to be carried out by one of the cooks. Ritalin had proved itself a much better mood-modifier than vodka UDL’s or home-grown cannabis, but it lowered her alcohol tolerance even more.
She couldn’t quite remember why she’d decided to drink tonight, but it was clear her inner lightweight had decided to re-emerge. She prodded her fa
ce and body for injuries and found none. That was good. She was fully dressed. Also good. Her back ached. She felt around herself. She appeared to be lying on a ridiculously hard couch. But where? And for what reason? Had she gone out and crashed at some stranger’s place? As her eyes adjusted to the dark she realised the room seemed familiar, familiar and yet somehow new as well…
“Hotel room!” She sat bolt upright. “Bendigo! Hotel room! I was nervous because it’s my first work trip! That’s why I was drinking!”
She smiled into the darkness, quite proud she’d managed to remember where she was and that she’d found her way back to her hotel suite, safe and sound. But that didn’t quite add up. If she made it back to her hotel room, why was she on the couch?
A low grunting moan came from across the room. She looked over and gasped, a little theatrical gasp that sounded like it was for show. There was a man in her hotel bed, or an enormous woman. Or a really big dog.
The thing emitted another grumbling noise, a man, definitely a man. How had he gotten here? Kate patted herself on the head, willing the thoughts to return. Had she broken her years-long dry spell and hooked up? If so, why was she on the couch with all her clothes on? She tried to retrace her steps, think back to whether or not she’d met anyone, but she could only picture the pub; old and dingy with a faded burgundy carpet. She had arrived with the other GGS employees, sitting at the edge of the group listening to the men discuss what was better—chicken schnitzel or chicken parmigiana. Tyler Henderson had been at the head of the group, his face set and his hair gleaming gold. He said very little and drank a lot. He glanced away whenever she spoke.
That he didn’t like her always would have hurt. That he didn’t like her and she was so hopelessly attracted to him burned. In the kind of all-encompassing obsession she’d only ever read about in books, but unlike books, her obsession never went anywhere or did anything. She just got sweaty palms whenever she saw him and it made her work-life very awkward.
Her obsession wasn’t even original. Everyone had a crush on Tyler Henderson. Women, gay men, straight men, more perceptive animals. It was like having a crush on a Hemsworth brother—it made you basic as hell.
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