by Laura Pavlov
I licked my lips at the mention of him showering and tried to calm my breathing. We were friends. We’d established that.
“Okay, don’t worry about me. I’ll just be wandering around aimlessly in your palace.”
He rolled his eyes. “Just chill out for a few minutes. There’s a library you might like down that hallway. I noticed you have a lot of books.”
My bat senses were on high alert. Nothing got to me quite like a good library.
“I’ll go check it out. Take your time, I’m fine.”
I heard him chuckle as he disappeared down the hallway. But, wow. Ford Montgomery’s apartment was not like anything I’d ever seen. Not even in magazines or on TV. This place was a palatial masterpiece. I started my self-guided tour in the kitchen. It was a chef’s dream, though I doubted Ford did a lot of cooking. I snooped around the cupboards, wondering what it must be like to have so much storage. Talk about a great place to cook a Thanksgiving meal for your hundred closest friends. The space was massive. Two large islands with white marble counters sat in the middle of the kitchen. The cupboards were gray and the island black. It managed to be masculine, yet classic and tasteful. The appliances—I couldn’t even focus as I took them in. Top of the line. State of the art. Best of the best. All of these terms flew through my mind as I checked out the Viking oven and cooktop. Ford’s refrigerator was stocked. I knew that without even opening the door because the doors on his refrigerator were clear glass. Something you’d see in a restaurant. Full bottles of Pellegrino lined one entire shelf. Bottles of Montgomery Vineyards wine were on a shelf of their own. Fresh produce was organized in glass bowls and baskets. My god. Who the hell organized this? There was no way he could keep up with this with the hours he worked. Something came over me and I pulled one door open, took a lemon out of the basket, and placed it on the bottom shelf near the sparkling water. I laughed as I closed the door, just picturing him gasping at the out-of-place lemon.
“Hello, there,” a voice said from behind me, and I spun on my heels with a gasp.
“Oh my gosh. I’m so sorry. Hi. I, um, I, well, I was completely ogling this refrigerator if I’m being honest,” I said to the woman standing in front of me. She was older, maybe mid-fifties, dark hair slicked back in a bun and her kind gaze locked with mine.
“Nice to meet you. You must be Harley, Ford’s friend. He texted that you two would be here soon. I’m Helena. I keep this place running.” She reached out a hand and shook mine.
“Yes, I’m Harley. It’s nice to meet you. So you must be the one that keeps this refrigerator looking like a piece of art instead of a source of food.” I chuckled.
“Yes, thank you. We do our best. It’s not a one-man show, but I’m the only one here on Saturdays. Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, I’m okay. I was just going to wander around and go check out the library, if that’s okay? I don’t want to get in your way,” I said.
“Of course, it’s okay. Head right down this hallway,” she said, leading me through the enormous home and motioning me in the direction of yet another hallway. “If you enjoy reading, you’re going to love it. It’s really something.”
“Okay. Thank you. It was nice to meet you. I’ll see you in a little bit.” I waved awkwardly because I didn’t know how to act in this place. It was a mansion up in the sky. He had a staff. A refrigerator that belonged in a museum. Sans the out-of-place lemon that I was hoping Helena wouldn’t move.
I peeked in the first door on the right, and dark cherry flooring with floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined the space. There were floating ladders on each wall so that you could reach the higher shelves. I walked the room taking in the incredible collection of books. The classics, biographies, non-fiction, and fiction books lined the shelves. Encyclopedias and geography books. There was an entire section of historical non-fiction. There were endless genres to choose from. He was more eclectic than I would have guessed with some of the pop-culture covers I noticed. I climbed the ladder to check out his classics. I ran my fingers along, grazing the spines as I let the ladder move me across the wall. Unbelievable.
“I figured I’d find you in here,” Ford said, startling me from my literary coma.
“Wow. Just, wow. This is quite the collection.”
“Thank you. Yeah. It was a hobby I shared with my father. We’d spend hours in our library reading together when I was a kid. He favored biographies and I was drawn to anything action and adventure related.”
I made my way down the ladder and back to the floor, noticing a photo of Ford as a young boy standing beside a man.
“Who’s this? Your father?”
“Yeah. That’s when I was maybe ten or eleven,” he said, and I didn’t miss the tension in his voice.
“You look a lot like your father. I thought he looked familiar and then I realized it’s the resemblance.”
“Yep. I was the mini version of him. He’s a good-looking son of a bitch, right?” He laughed, and I knew he was trying to lighten the mood. I knew that Ford struggled with the loss of his father, even if he tried to act stoic.
“It’s okay to miss him, you know. It sounds like you had a great father, and I’m sure losing him was traumatic. It’s okay to be sad about it. You don’t have to put on a brave face for me.” I shrugged.
“I’m not,” he said, dropping to sit on the leather couch in the center of the library.
I sat beside him. “Whatever you say, boss. So, now what? You do know I need to get back to my regular life, right? I can’t hide out with you all weekend. I have things to do.”
“Such as?”
“I’m not going to list everything. It’s ridiculous. It was nice of you to show up last night, but honestly, this isn’t new for me. I can handle it. You really don’t need to worry,” I said, shrugging as I faced him.
“Why are you in such a hurry to go home? What, do you have a date? Jack told me Molly’s boyfriend brought some guy to the bakery and he was hitting on you.”
I laughed. Ford Montgomery appeared—jealous. It was quite the sight. His gaze searched mine, and my heart squeezed a little. But it made no sense.
“We’re going out this week. A double date sort of thing. I hardly know the guy, but I’m open.” I raised my brow in challenge. He wasn’t going to tell me what to do. You can’t tell someone that you don’t want to date them and then expect them not to date anyone else.
Before I realized what was happening, his mouth was on mine. Delicious and warm. His tongue moved in, tasting and exploring. His fingers tangled in my hair, and he groaned into my mouth. My entire body tingled. Goose bumps covered every inch of skin. My fingers found his damp hair, and I pulled him closer. My brain fired off warning bells, and I pulled myself from the moment of pure bliss.
I shoved him back and pushed hard against his chest.
“What the hell, Montgomery?”
He had a dopey grin on his face and stared down at me. “What? I like kissing you.”
I pushed to my feet, anger coursing my veins. “Seriously? We talked about this. You don’t date. And I don’t do this. Whatever this is.”
“Kiss people for pleasure?” His tone oozed sarcasm.
“I don’t make out with people I’m not dating, playboy. Get a grip. Go call one of your ho-bags but leave me out of it.” I stormed out of the library and down the hall before he caught up with me.
“Harley.” His deep voice came from behind me.
“What? What do you want from me?” I asked, turning around to face him.
He invaded my personal space, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t fucking know.”
“Well, you don’t get to take what isn’t yours just because you feel like it, Montgomery. And where I come from, friends don’t have sex. And for the record, I don’t owe you anything, and my body is off-limits,” I hissed and turned to storm away.
Was he for real? “Wait. That’s your actual defense? You can sleep with a multitude of other women? You think that makes me feel, what? Flattered. That you have your pick of the litter and you’ve chosen me today. Fuck you, Ford Montgomery. I don’t have time for you to sit around and decide what you want. If you wanted me bad enough, this wouldn’t be a discussion. But you want me today and someone else tomorrow, and that does not fly with me, buddy. So, go find yourself a willing companion. I’m out of here. Your babysitting shift is over.” I poked him hard in the chest before turning down the long hallway.
“Edward has someone waiting downstairs to follow you home. Someone will be looking out for you round the clock, just so you feel safe.” His voice was low. He sounded wounded, but I wasn’t falling for it.
“Well, thank you. But I wasn’t worried about it. I’ve survived a long time without you. I certainly don’t think I need you now.”
“You’re overreacting, but okay. You know, Harley, just because someone is attracted to you doesn’t mean that they think you’re a prostitute. You have a pretty warped sense of what relationships are.”
I turned back to face him. Did he really think I’d fall for his shtick? “Is that so? Okay. Educate me. So, you have ladies that you get together with often?”
“Yes,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest with confidence. His dark hair a bit disheveled, and his sapphire blues locked with mine.
“Right. So, do you just see one at a time? Consecutively?”
“No. But they are aware of the situation. They know we aren’t exclusive.”
“Ah. I got it now. So, you sleep with multiple women, but they’re aware?” I said, moving closer to him.
His lips turned up in the corners like he’d just helped me realize what a great idea this was. “Exactly. No one gets hurt.”
“Do you talk on the phone with them during the week?”
“No,” he said, running his fingers and his thumb over the scruff on his jaw.
“So, no emotional relationship. You meet them for sex?” I said, staring at him hard.
“Sometimes we go to dinner.” He shrugged. Clueless bastard.
“Do they come to your place? Spend the night?” I asked. Now I was just curious about this arrangement he had with multiple women.
“Never my place. I don’t bring women here. I go to their place. And I never spend the night.”
“Wow. That’s so tempting.” I paused to roll my eyes. “Not interested. At all. I may live above a laundromat and have a piece-of-shit mother. I might have the world’s smallest couch and the crappiest car, but I’m proud of everything I have. And the day I agree to a relationship like what you’re offering will be the day I’ve thrown in the towel. It’s cheap. It’s gross. And I think I’m worth a hell of a lot more than just being some girl who gets to fuck a rich guy.”
“Good Christ, that is not what I’m offering you.” He put his hands up defensively.
“Well, what then? Where are you wanting this to lead? You just want to be friends that make out? How long would that last? Because it sure as hell felt like we were about to rip one another’s clothing off last night. And again today. Then what? I explained to you that that isn’t my thing. You said you understood. But here you are kissing me again. What, are you just hoping to catch me at a weak moment, and I’ll give in? And then we’ll hate each other?”
“No. That’s not what I’m doing. I just, well, I just…”
“You just what?”
“Well, I like you.”
“And that’s why we’re friends. I need to go. Thanks for your help last night. I’ll see you on Monday.” I didn’t turn back this time when he called my name. I needed some distance from this man. This couldn’t go anywhere, and I needed to draw that line in the sand for him before we crossed one that we couldn’t take back.
Ford Montgomery needed to stay in his lane.
I needed to stay in mine.
And we’d have to figure out how to be friends without crossing over.
Chapter Eleven
Ford
The weekend sucked after Harley basically called me a whore and stormed out of my place. I’d gone to dinner with Blaire Sunday night to make up for leaving her hanging the night I’d gone to find Harley. It had been a typical date for us. A nice dinner, a great bottle of wine, some small talk and a little flirty banter. But when we’d left the restaurant and I’d agreed to meet her at her place, I’d gotten a migraine and decided to go home. She wasn’t happy, and I really didn’t care. I’d texted Harley a few times, but she ignored me. She was clearly putting distance between us, and fuck if I wasn’t going out of my mind.
I stopped in for coffee Monday morning. “Hey, how was your weekend? I tried you a few times.”
“Yes, well, I was busy. I do have other things going on, Ford. I don’t just sit around waiting for you to call me, you know.”
Jesus. She was still pissed. I tried not to stare at her pouty full lips as she hissed at me. She tossed the dough around on the counter and I leaned against the wall, crossing my legs at the ankle. “Ah, I see. Can we grab dinner tonight? I’ll even go to the noodle house if you want.”
I needed to spend time with her. I craved it. Craved her.
She raised a brow, and turned over a giant ball of dough, shaking flour all over it. “I’m going on a double date tonight. With an actual grown up. Not someone who just wants to sleep with me, but someone who wants to get to know me.”
My jaw clenched. “I already know you. I just happen to want to sleep with you, too.”
She huffed and rolled her eyes. “Right. Well, I’m going out with someone who doesn’t want to sleep with me, and the rest of the women in the city.”
“Is that so. You asked him that?”
“That is so, and I don’t have to. Because he’s normal.” She smirked. “Perhaps you should call one of your lady friends who just sits by the phone waiting for you to grace them with your big penis.”
I coughed and coffee shot all over her counter and down my shirt. “Damn it. You’re really pushing it today, Harley.”
I reached for some napkins and she used her towel to clean up the mess on her work counter. “Good. I suggest you get used to it.”
“I’m not playing this game with you. If you can’t handle us being friends, then we can call this done,” I said, my voice harsher than I expected. I mean, we’d kissed twice. It was harmless. Mind-blowingly good. But harmless. She was blowing this way out of proportion. Because she was fucking sexually frustrated. She wanted me as bad as I wanted her.
“Don’t threaten me with a good time, Montgomery,” she said. Her arms crossed over her chest and she raised a brow in challenge.
I tossed the napkins in the garbage and made my way out of there. I was done trying to talk sense into this woman. I couldn’t. She wanted something I couldn’t offer, and I wanted something she couldn’t give me. In the business world, it would be a no-brainer. Go a different route. Find someone who could meet my demands. The problem was, I didn’t want to.
My day took off, and I tried to shake off my bad mood. Harrison and Jack both came by eating pastries, which only pissed me off more. Fuckers. They were always hanging out with her, and she was never mad at them.
I finished my last meeting of the day and sat at my desk answering emails. I checked my phone a few times to see if Harley texted to try
to put this behind us, but she hadn’t. And I was tempted to fucking text her and apologize. But I wouldn’t. Two could play this game. Stubborn was my middle name.
“Hey, you still here?” Harrison asked, stepping in my office.
“Yes. What are you doing here?”
“Mom had things under control at the winery, so I’ve been up in the newsroom working on a few things with Eileen. You okay?” he asked. “You seem off today?”
“I’m fine,” I said, my tone harsher than I meant it to be. I was in a foul mood, and I wanted to be left alone.
“Funny. Harley’s in a mood too.”
“Meaning?” I asked, leaning back in my chair, not hiding my irritation.
“Meaning—get your shit together, brother. You like her. Admit it.”
“I did admit it, you asshole.”
“And?”
“And, nothing. She wants the whole nine yards. That’s not my thing. So, it can’t go anywhere. It’s better to stay friends. This will blow over,” I said.
“Ah, I see,” the smug bastard said. “So, you’re fine with her going out with that dude, Jared tonight? Jack met him. Said he’s a cool guy. They’re going to Blaze apparently.”
He was giving me the details on purpose. Trying to get a reaction out of me. We owned a few clubs in the city, and Blaze happened to be one of them. He knew it would irritate me that she was going on a date to a club we owned.
“Thanks for that. I need to get to work.” I stared at my screen and let him know I was done with this conversation.
“You know, Ford. You used to date. I don’t know why you suddenly think you can’t be monogamous.”
“Says the guy who hasn’t had a real relationship since Laney Mae,” I said, tossing her name out there knowing it would piss him off.
“That’s because I haven’t met anyone worth being monogamous with since Laney. And I have to live with the fact that I let the best thing that ever happened to me get away. You don’t. But thanks for bringing her up. Nice touch, asshole,” he said, pushing to his feet and heading for the door.