Retreat

by Dykes, Nicole

  I’m a big girl. I can handle this.

  “It’s a great deal.”

  Chase pushes the papers across the desk to Levi and leans back in the office chair. “Fuck that. They want me, they’re going to have to pay.”

  Levi, who, by the way, is Evie Adamson’s oldest brother and manages Tate and Chase along with a lot of the other racers, stays cool, but I can tell he’s annoyed. “They’re willing to pay, fucker.”

  “Not nearly enough.”

  I haven’t been Chase’s assistant long, but I already want to kill him. “Chase, how much do you expect? It’s one commercial.” I, too, am trying to stay calm.

  His shoulders lift in indifference, and I could smack him. “They want me, they pay.”

  My eyes meet Levi’s as I huff in disapproval, but what the fuck am I going to do? I’m just an assistant. He’s the manager.

  Levi leans back in his chair, lifting his hands behind his head casually. “Look, you don’t want this, they’ll go to someone else, someone with more talent, smaller head,” Levi leans forward, resting his elbows on his desk, “and more than likely, a bigger dick.”

  Chase doesn’t miss a beat. “Ain’t none bigger.”

  Good lord, why don’t I work for a woman racer? Definitely wouldn’t be witnessing a dick-measuring contest at the moment if I did.

  I watch Levi’s jaw tick. “I’ll counter one fucking time. That’s it. It’s already a good deal.”

  “Fine. I’m a hot commodity right now. They’ll take it.”

  It’s probably true, which is incredibly annoying. Levi turns to me. “You’re going to have to get him in line, Morgan. You’ve done wonders with that fucker, Tate.”

  I smile, feeling oddly proud. “I’m doing my best.”

  He laughs. “Yeah, I know. I’m impressed.”

  Chase rolls his eyes and climbs up from his chair, sliding his black sunglasses over his eyes. “Let me know how it goes.”

  Levi stands, he’s a former racer who only recently retired, and honestly, he’s the best manager possible. I’m not sure most people could deal with the egos of these racers. “Push me, and I’ll offer it to Tate.”

  “I’m sure that prick would love my rejects.”

  “Keep fucking talking.”

  I grab Chase’s elbow. “Let’s go.” I pull him toward the door like the petulant child he is and give a quick nod to Levi. “We’ll be in touch.”

  He takes a seat at his desk, unbothered, and I shove Chase out into the hall.

  He just laughs. “What’s wrong, pretty girl?”

  I roll my eyes and grab my keys out of my purse, heading for the exit. “Just reevaluating every decision I’ve ever made.”

  He jogs to catch up with me, his cocky persona pissing me off, but it’s not like I’m not used to it. “Oh, come on. It’s no big deal. They’ll take that offer, no doubt.”

  I stop walking right before the glass door that leads out of the office building, holding my keys in my hand as I point at Chase. “You need a serious attitude adjustment.”

  His crooked smirk only grows as he looks down at me. “That’s where you come in.”

  “I think you might be a lost cause.”

  He chuckles at that. “Yeah. You might be right. But I’m paying you to try.”

  “Then stop being such a dick.”

  He laughs again, pulling the door open and allowing me to walk through before we head to my car. “Now that, I just can’t do. But I didn’t miss my flight to make this meeting, and I was on time today. That’s something.”

  I roll my eyes as we climb into my car. “Wow. You’re essentially sixteen, you know that. I’m not giving you a cookie for actually acting like an adult.”

  He wags his eyebrows suggestively. “Is that what you call it?” He looks down at my lap, and I might actually kill him. “Because I’ll behave for that.”

  I start the car and put it into reverse. “Dream on, asshole. My cookie and everything else is off-limits.”

  He’s amused as he sits back, and we drive back to his hotel. I have no idea how I’m going to handle this asshole, but I hate that I’m actually starting to grow fond of him.

  That can’t be safe.

  “So how is the make up going? You two have been quiet since you rekindled your love affair.”

  Chris is my boss, but he’s a friend first. My middle finger raises in his direction, as does Jay’s. Frankie laughs happily as she works on a client’s ankle. “I’m pretty sure I saw them skipping into work today together, telling secrets.”

  “I’ve never skipped a day in my life.” Jay is working on a regular customer who came in today to get his fifth tattoo from us.

  “Yeah, no skipping here either.” I pull my gloves from my hands as I admire my newest work on the fifty something woman who came in to commemorate her first grandkid.

  She looks at the heart, solid on the left, curved into “Kay,” the kid’s name, on the right along with the birthdate. She’s beaming with pride. “It’s perfect, handsome.”

  I smile, happy with my work. “I still can’t believe you’re a grandma, but I’ll take your word for it.” I give her a wink, and she blushes giddily as she bounces to reception to pay.

  I clean my station, and Jay nods over to me. “You talk to Morgan lately?”

  It’s been a week since she came over to my place after the fiasco at the bar. I’ve been trying to think about anything else since. Her offering a ‘friends with benefits’ sort of thing has been too much for my sex-starved brain to handle.

  How the fuck did I turn that down?

  She’s fucking gorgeous. She’s actually funny, not cringeworthy have-to-force-a-laugh funny. She’s smart. She’s strong, especially now.

  In my book, Morgan is perfect. But I can’t have a physical relationship with Jay’s little sister. I will not use her ever again. And I’ve proven I’m not someone who should be in a relationship. They aren’t for me.

  Eventually I would hurt her, and I’d rather die than do that.

  Okay, so that’s exactly how I turned her down. I just keep that in the back of my mind. Losing Morgan and Jay is far worse than the case of blue balls and sex depravation I’ve experienced in the past months.

  “I think she’s been working a lot.”

  He grunts as he nods at my answer. “Yeah. I think this Chase Castle fucker may be even worse than Tate. What the fuck was she thinking?”

  “Maybe they’re banging.”

  Jay and I both turn abruptly to Frankie, who, of course, is all “no fucks given” as she eyes us both.

  Jay’s eyes narrow. “They aren’t.”

  Frankie’s right shoulder lifts with indifference. She loves to fuck with Jay. “Whatever you say, big brother. Because you’d know, right?”

  Morgan telling me she’ll probably end up sleeping with Chase has permeated my brain over the last week, and I’ve been going back and forth from hearing that and her proposing we have sex. Both scenarios are fucking torture.

  And now, of fucking course, Frankie twists the knife.

  “Morgan’s smarter than that.” I decide to help Jay.

  Frankie laughs. Her eyes, lined with black liner and mascara, making them pop, meet mine. “Smarter than what? Have you seen pictures of Chase Castle?”

  Yes. Fine. I fucking googled the fucker.

  “What’s your point, Frankie?” I take a seat on the stool next to my chair. “You suggesting she’s some type of dumb bimbo who will be gaga over good looks and fuck him despite him being an asshole?”

  I see Jay’s jaw tick with tension. “She’s not.”

  Frankie’s eyes roll. “No, I’m suggesting that Morgan has grown into a strong, confident woman, and Chase is fucking delicious.” Her gaze is locked on mine, completely serious and intent on making her point. “And there’s no one stopping her from doing whatever she wants with him.”

  “How about I break his fucking legs? That might stop him from touching my sister.” We both hear Jay,
but neither of us turn to look at him.

  Frankie knows something. I’m not sure what, but she’s trying to push my buttons. “She’s a big girl, but I don’t think she’s into him. She thinks he’s a douchebag.”

  Of course, she thought Tate was too and still slept with him.

  My hands involuntarily clench as I stand and signal for Kat to bring my next client.

  Frankie laughs at that. “Oh my God. If only that could keep our legs closed.” Her eyes pass over Jay to drive that particular point home.

  “Don’t look at me, Frankie.” Jay nods in her direction. “I’m what? Six douchebags ago?”

  She raises her middle finger with a perfectly manicured red fingernail. “Fuck you, Jay.”

  Great. Now it’s fucking tense.

  Kat brings my new client over, a bubbly blond who can’t be a day over twenty. She smiles at me as she gets cozy in the chair, her eyes looking around the wall at the samples of tattoos.

  Jay and Frankie are still going at it as I introduce myself. “Alright, I’m Ty. This your first tattoo?”

  The blond nods her head. “Yes.” I can tell she’s nervous. Her fingers grip the hem of her jean shorts as her eyes take everything in.

  “Did you do some research? Know what you want?” I take a seat on the stool and scoot to her side.

  It’s not just our talent that pulls in clientele. We’re known for giving an entire experience and knowing our shit.

  “I did. You guys have the best ratings in the area. I know I’m in good hands.”

  I smile and see Chris is paying attention.

  “I want a butterfly on my hip.”

  Christ. Another one.

  She pulls her phone out of her pocket, showing me a picture of a watercolor butterfly, and I smile, knowing instinctively this isn’t a client to give a hard time.

  Some, we fuck with. The banter plays a big role in the success of the shop too, but this girl wants to be coddled, taken care of, treated right.

  And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

  “Good choice.” She sits up a little straighter in her chair, seemingly vindicated for her choice.

  I tug on a pair of gloves and get to work as conversation flows through the shop, the girl handling her tattoo a hell of a lot better than I thought she would.

  When I’m nearly finished, Chris, who’s working on his own client, looks in my direction briefly. “You’re coming Friday night, right?”

  “To what?”

  I have no idea what he’s talking about.

  “Duh, Chris’s birthday party, dummy.” Frankie is always so fucking helpful.

  Fuck, I forgot Amy, his wife, sent a text about it a couple of weeks ago. “I don’t know.”

  “What the fuck? I thought we were trying to go back to normal.” Jay doesn’t sound pleased.

  I look at Chris. Of course, I want to go to his birthday party, but his family is incredibly close. I already know the guestlist.

  Recognition must hit Chris. “Evie won’t be there.”

  “She won’t? She’s your sister.”

  “She’s on some trip with Tate. And it’s adults only. Just you assholes,” he gestures around the shop, “Ames, Levi and Nat, Phillip and Gillian, and Leslie and Cash.” So, all the rest of his siblings and their significant others.

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Oh, and Morgan.”

  Fuck.

  “Sounds good.”

  But really, . . . I don’t know how the fuck to be around Morgan. I want to be her friend, but I don’t know how long I can fight the insanely confusing attraction pulling me to her.

  I look over at Jay, who’s lost in the world of creating his art on flesh, and I know, no matter what, I have to figure this shit out.

  His friendship is worth it, and so is hers.

  Jesus Christ, why does it have to be summer?

  Morgan walks out to the back patio at Chris’s, dressed only in a short sundress, one that shows more smooth, tan skin than it hides.

  Thin straps and low cut. It’s not trashy, it could almost be described as cute if it weren’t covering Morgan’s sinfully beautiful curves.

  I need to get laid. I’ve got to stop looking at her like this. What the fuck is the matter with me?

  “She’s so fucking beautiful, isn’t she?”

  I turn to look at Frankie, who’s the only one standing next to me. Both of us have drinks in hand. “Yeah.” I take another drink. “You really think she’s fucking Chase?”

  It’s an unstoppable thought running constantly through my head.

  Frankie, who’s also dressed for summer in jean shorts and a cropped tank, holds nothing back. “Why do you care?”

  “Because I care about Morgan.”

  I watch as Morgan hugs Jay and says hello to Chris, handing off a gift. She’s late. She missed the large, catered dinner, but she made it in time for presents.

  “Care about Morgan or care about who is fucking her? Because there’s a difference.”

  I turn back to Frankie, her red hair pinned to the side with a black, rose clip. “No there isn’t. I don’t want some asshole using her.”

  “You mean you want to be the only asshole using her?”

  “Fuck you, Frankie. You know I care about Morgan.”

  She leans in, the smell of the minty drink in her hand wafting toward me. “I know you’re a pussy who won’t give her what you both want.”

  Did Morgan tell her about the other night? Is she talking about sex? “I’m not going to fuck her. She’s more than that.”

  Frankie scoffs loudly, taking a large drink from her glass. “You are so fucking clueless. I swear, it hurts.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

  She rolls her eyes and takes another drink. The alcohol has definitely been flowing at this party, and maybe we should all cool it. But that thought doesn’t stop me as I finish my whiskey off before Frankie says a slightly slurred word.

  “It means, you and Jay would rather hide in your own insecurities and fears than take a chance.”

  I point to my chest angrily as I face her. “I literally have no fucking clue what you’re talking about, so maybe I am fucking clueless.”

  “You definitely are.” She looks over at Morgan, who’s handed a drink by Levi’s wife, Natalie. “Maybe stop worrying about what Jay would think.”

  “Jay just spent months giving me the death glare for kissing her.”

  “Jay is going to have to let his little sister grow up sooner or later.” She starts to walk off, but looks back over her shoulder at me. “Grow a pair and do what you want.”

  That advice is dangerous as I walk to the outside bar while some of the partygoers congregate in the pool and hot tub. Brooke and Dylan Monroe, some of Chris’s oldest friends, are cuddled up in a lounge chair together.

  I smile as I stand next to Morgan and pour more whiskey into my glass. “You showed.”

  Her laugh is light as she lifts her own glass to her lips. “I did. I had a meeting this evening.”

  With Chase? I’m dying to ask, but I don’t.

  I screw the lid back on the Jack Daniel’s bottle and turn to look out at the pool, my elbows resting back against the bar. “You’ve been busy lately.”

  She turns, also looking out at the scene before us. The sky is dark, but there are lights out by the pool where most of the guests are gathered. Amy has her phone out, taking pictures, asking people to pose.

  I should be happy that our lives are returning to normal, but there’s a nagging feeling telling me everything has changed.

  “Yeah, it’s like I’m working for two toddlers now, but it’s good to be busy.” She downs the fruity drink Nat made her and turns around, pouring straight tequila into her glass.

  “You sure about that?”

  She tosses her blond hair with one hand as she takes a drink of the strong alcohol. “Yeah.”

  Is she fucking him?

  I can’t get it out of my he
ad. The alcohol sloshing around in my brain is only making it worse.

  “Can’t be worse than Tate, right?”

  Her shoulders lift. “I’d say they are about equal, but Chase is a little younger.”

  I watch as Jay takes a seat next to Frankie in one of the lounge chairs, letting his finger drag down her bare arm. Why the fuck aren’t they together?

  Yeah, Jay loves pussy and he fucks everything that moves, but for Frankie? I really believe he could solely be with her for the rest of his life. I don’t think he’s right about himself.

  But me?

  I’ve tried the relationship thing.

  I watch Morgan finish the tequila and sit the drink down on the bar before turning to look at me. “What about you? Any more dating disasters?”

  Don’t talk about dating and sex with her. It’s dangerous.

  “No. I’ve just been working. And it wasn’t a date.”

  “Right.” Her lips, painted a hot pink tonight, lift in a smile as I finish my whiskey and place my own glass down. “Any more disastrous bar hookups?”

  “No.”

  She turns away, leaning back against the bar next to me, her arm brushing against mine. “You thought any more about helping each other out?”

  Fuck, Morgan. I feel my entire body tense and fucking pulse with need. I try to take a deep breath, one that comes out shaky. “I told you to knock that shit off.”

  My eyes instinctively look for Jay, who’s busy with Frankie, stripping down to their swimsuits and jumping into the pool.

  No one is paying attention, but it feels like all eyes are on us.

  “And I told you I’m a big girl.”

  Why the fuck is she trying to tempt me? I look at her, my eyes mistakenly slide down over her body, over the tops of breasts that are exposed by the low-cut dress, over the curve of hips and long, bare legs.

  Fuck. Me.

  I swallow the lump in my throat, trying to fight my body’s response to her.

  She lifts one shoulder in a shrug, causing the very thin strap to fall down, leaving her shoulder completely uncovered. My eyes hover there, seeing her clavicle pushing against her skin and the delicate tattoo on her left one. “I was not built to break” scrolled in a feminine font. I remember when Frankie inked it there after Morgan’s mother tried to come back into her life shortly after she turned eighteen. When Morgan refused to see her, she stood outside, shouting nasty things about her for an hour before we called the police.