Sex God

by Marie Force

  “Why would you ask me what’s wrong when I’m saying you and Blake deserve to be happy?”

  “Because I know you, and as much as I appreciate that, I can tell when you’re upset about something.”

  That’s the thing about meeting your best friends in kindergarten. No one knows you like they do. “I’m not upset… I’m anxious.”

  “About?”

  “I have a date with Garrett tonight. A real date, not the usual beer and wings.”

  Honey lets out a giddy squeal and claps her hands. “It’s about freaking time!” She puts the keyboard on her desk and drops her feet to the floor so she can lean in for closer scrutiny. “What brought this on? We all assumed you guys decided to just stay friends.”

  “We did. We had. We… Well, it’s complicated.”

  “How so?”

  I bite my lip while trying to decide how much to tell my best friend, who is also Garrett’s good friend. “We sort of had sex six months ago.”

  Honey stares at me, eyes agog. “How can you sort of have sex?”

  “We did it, but it was weird and awkward and well… not good.”

  “Ohhhh.” Honey taps her bottom lip. “This is extremely surprising in light of his… well…”

  “Reputation?”

  Nodding, Honey says, “Supposedly, he’s somewhat of a… um…”

  “God in bed?” Girls we knew growing up used to wax poetic about his skills even when we were still in high school. Garrett thinks we don’t know this, but Honey and I are well aware that more than one tourist has come to town for a roll in the sack with the guy known as the Sex God.

  “Yes! So, what the hell went so wrong?”

  “I have no idea. I’ve gone over it and over it in my mind a million times, but it never makes sense. I adore him, and vice versa. We’ve been hot for each other for ages. It should’ve been off the charts. Instead, it barely made the chart, and it brought back a lot of crap from when I was with Wayne and he would tell me I suck in bed.”

  “Wayne is an asshole, and you do not suck in bed.”

  “How do you know that?” I ask with a laugh.

  “Because you’re gorgeous and sexy and any man would be lucky to have you in his bed.”

  The fear that Wayne is right about me has been keeping me awake at night since the disaster with Garrett. Though I’m touched by Honey’s unwavering love for me, I go with sarcasm to hide my emotional response. “And you’re not even slightly impartial.”

  “Not at all. It’s a well-known fact that men who suck in bed frequently make their partners feel responsible for their inadequacies. Clearly, Wayne passed off his own failings onto you, and you can’t let him get away with that.”

  “Where did you hear this well-known fact?”

  “Cosmo. Where else?”

  Snorting with laughter, I say, “Of course. Where else, indeed.” I run my hands over the skirt of my dress as another thought occurs to me. “But what if Wayne was right and I do suck in bed? What if it was my fault that it went so badly with Garrett?”

  “Lauren! Stop this! It wasn’t you. It was an off night. I can’t stand to see you doing this to yourself. If you believe that crap, then Wayne wins, and he can’t ever win. I won’t allow it.”

  Honey’s fierce defense goes a long way toward making me feel better, but I won’t truly believe it wasn’t me until Garrett and I successfully close the deal.

  “What I want to know is why you didn’t tell me about this before now.”

  “Because it was so embarrassing. It took six months for us to even talk about that night.”

  “At least you’ve managed to stay friends. Thank goodness for that.”

  “Yes, thank goodness.” A falling-out between Garrett and me would be a nightmare, not just for us but for our close circle of friends, too.

  “So why are you so tightly wound today if this happened six months ago?”

  “Last night, when we finally talked about it, Garrett said he wants a do-over. He thinks we went about it all wrong last time.”

  “Wow. How do you feel about that?”

  “I’m afraid it’ll be more of the same, and we’ll actually ruin a rather spectacular friendship this time.”

  “Hmmm.” Honey gave that some thought.

  “What does that mean? Hmmm?”

  “All of us—me, Blake, Matt, Julie, Scarlett—think you two would be a great couple.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “For one thing, you’re already close friends. For another, you’re attracted to him, and vice versa. Anyone with two working eyes can see that. Whenever we’re all together, you always end up sitting next to him. You finish each other’s sentences and laugh at all the same things. He holds doors for you and dotes on you. You guys already act like a couple.”

  “We do?” I’m stunned by Honey’s observations. “I’ve never noticed we do any of that stuff. It’s just me and Garrett being me and Garrett.”

  “Exactly—and you two are already a couple in many of the most important ways.”

  “Except the most important way.” I can’t bear to think about our fumbling attempt at sex. “I’m so nervous about it happening again. I’d be lost without him as a friend.”

  “Forget about that night. Tonight is a fresh start. Wipe the slate clean and pretend like the first time never happened. It was one night out of a whole lifetime. Bad sex happens.”

  “Has it ever happened to you with Blake?”

  “Umm, well, Blake is a very unique exception to all rules.”

  “I know. I remember. What does it say that I had better sex with Garrett’s friend years ago than I had with him?”

  “It says you’re reminding me that you once had sex with my husband, which we’ve agreed to never talk about.”

  I laugh at the face she makes at me. “It was more than once.”

  “And you didn’t have any problems with him, did you?”

  “No, but that was more about him than me. As you well know, he’s rather good at it.”

  “So is Garrett by all accounts. Has it occurred to you that maybe it’s more complicated with him because you have genuine feelings for him, which you didn’t have for Blake? Because if you did, I’d have to kill you.”

  Laughing, I say, “No need for murder. I love Blake to pieces, as you well know, but it was just sex with him.”

  “It’s very possible that you and Garrett haven’t hit your stride yet, and you will. How can you not? You’re you—gorgeous and sexy—and he’s smoking hot, intense, has all those muscles and is a known sex god. I’d be more afraid of what’s going to happen when you get it right than I would be of getting it wrong again. You’re apt to burn down the house together.”

  “If that happens, I hope we end up at his place rather than mine. I bet he has better insurance than I do.”

  Honey laughs. “Relax and enjoy the company of one of your favorite people. Think of it as just another night with Garrett. If you build it up to be a huge big deal in your mind, you’ll set yourself up for disaster.”

  “Too late for the warning about building it up to be a huge big deal.”

  Honey hauls herself up and out of the desk chair. It’s almost painful to watch her try to move with the giant baby belly weighing down her petite frame. She comes around the desk and reaches for my hands, drawing me up and into a hug that’s hampered by that big old belly.

  “This is Garrett. He loves you. He’d do anything for you. You have nothing in the world to worry about.”

  “Except making things weird with one of my best friends.”

  She draws back from me, but leaves her hands on my shoulders. “You got past the weirdness once before. You can do it again, if it comes to that.”

  “Maybe it would be better…”

  “What would be better?”

  “If we just… If we didn’t try to make it more than it already is.”

  “Is that what you want?”

  I give that question careful con
sideration. I’m well aware of Garrett’s affection for me. His devotion after the awful end of my marriage was more than I could’ve asked of any friend, and his steady presence in my life is something I count among my greatest blessings. But do I see us having more than great friendship?

  “I’m not sure,” I say in answer to my question and Honey’s. “But I’d like to find out, if for no other reason than I’d like to put this ‘will we or won’t we’ question to bed once and for all—pun intended.”

  She smiles and straightens my hair. “I want you to relax and put aside your worries and have a great time tonight, and then tomorrow call me and tell me every single detail.”

  I flash a coy grin. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

  “This time you do. Remember how you made me tell you every detail of my first night with Blake?”

  “I seem to recall something about that.”

  “Turnabout is fair play.”

  “Please don’t say anything about this to Blake. I don’t know what Garrett has told him, and I wouldn’t want Garrett to think I’m blabbing about our personal business.”

  “Not to worry. My lips are sealed.” Honey hugs me again, and this time I feel a strong kick from the baby against my abdomen.

  “Holy cow! The kid’s got game.”

  “I’m slightly afraid he’s going to be a holy terror.”

  “I can’t wait to meet him.”

  “Me either. Any day now.”

  “You’d better call me the second you go into labor, day or night.”

  “I will. Have a great time tonight, and don’t forget to call me in the morning, or after lunch, or whatever time you two come up for air.”

  At the thought of an all-night sexfest with Garrett, my nipples tighten and my sex tingles. Apparently, my thoughts are stamped all over my face, because Honey loses it laughing. “All indications point toward this evening going much better than you think it will.”

  “Stop making fun of me,” I toss over my shoulder as I leave her office to the sound of her laughter following me. I can’t help but smile. I deserve her infectious laughter after the wide range of emotions I just displayed in the span of thirty minutes.

  I’m a hot mess over this “date” with Garrett, but he’ll never know that. Having taken the rest of the afternoon off, I head home to get ready—or as ready as I’ll ever be to take another ride on the Garrett train.

  Chapter Three

  The last item on my to-do list before I turn my focus to the evening with Lauren is a meeting with Blake Dempsey. He’s been considering building some spec houses and asked me to do a cash-flow analysis before he decides his next step.

  Since Blake is working outside of town at the site of the proposed development, I offer to go to him. I never miss a chance to get out of the office, so when my clients need me to come to them, I’m always happy to oblige. That’s one part of my strategy to keep from going stir-crazy.

  Today, I’m behind the wheel of the black Mercedes-Benz E Class sedan I treated myself to after our banner year. I’m as good of a good old boy as the next Texas guy, and I love my pickup, but every so often, a day calls for luxury. As I press the accelerator closer to the floor, I revel in the roar of the engine and the smoothness of the ride. I fucking love this car.

  On the way to Blake’s work site, I review the plans I made for the night with Lauren—lobster, her favorite food ever, flown in from Maine at an ungodly price, the best champagne I could get in town, flowers I bought from her shop after she left for the day and a plan that will begin tonight and conclude with the best sex of our lives later this week.

  I’ve already told myself that no matter how hot she looks—and she will look incredible, of that I have no doubt—I will not take her to bed tonight. No, tonight and every night we spend together for the next few days will be about building the anticipation for the main event. With so much at stake, there’s no room for another calamity. I’ve got to get it right this time.

  Since I made the plans with Lauren last night, I haven’t had much time to think about the incredibly enticing job lead with an Austin-based tech company that the headhunter has found for me. As I drive on the long, empty roads outside of town, I allow my mind to wander a little in that direction. The job is exactly the sort of thing I’ve been hoping for since I started looking again. The headhunter has come to me with quite a few things that didn’t interest me. This one interests me tremendously.

  While I enjoy being my own boss, it would be nice to have less responsibility for the overall business. What would it be like, I wonder, to put in a day at the office and then forget about the place until the next morning? I can barely recall what that’s like, because I haven’t had that kind of job since I worked at the local pizza place in high school.

  I take good care of my clients. I’m available to them twenty-four-seven. I rarely take a full day off, even on weekends, which I use to catch up on the details of my own business, which gets overlooked while I’m busy all week helping others tend to their businesses.

  It’s a never-ending cycle of work, work and more work. That’s not to say I don’t enjoy it, because I do. Every day I’m presented with a different challenge in any number of a wide range of industries—from construction to photography to restaurants to hotels to dry cleaning and art galleries, among others. My clients help keep my life interesting, and I’m grateful for the trust they place in me.

  But still… I dream about the opportunities that got away. Where would I be today if my father hadn’t died? Would I be the CFO of a major US corporation, or would I have opened my own firm at some point? Where would I live? Austin? San Antonio? Houston? Or would I have left Texas by now for New York, Chicago or maybe Los Angeles? Would I be married with kids or still single?

  The push-pull of what might have been versus what is continues to be a vexing debate that I keep entirely to myself. No one in my life knows how I really feel about having my professional choices taken from me due to the sudden death of my beloved father. What point is there to talking about it? It’s not like there’s anything I or my family or friends can do to change anything. And besides, I’d look like an ungrateful asshole if I complained about being forced to take over my dad’s successful business, which became more so on my watch.

  Poor me, right?

  Since I don’t want people to think I’m an ungrateful douche canoe, I keep my mouth shut and soldier on, even if the gnawing discontent is ever present in my daily life.

  I hang a right onto a dirt road that leads into the development where Blake is working on the third of what will be thirty houses when the neighborhood is completed. My grade school friend’s booming company is one of my bigger clients, and I couldn’t be happier for his hard-earned success. Fueled by grief after the accident that took Jordan’s life, Blake poured his heart and soul into growing the company into the powerhouse it is today.

  Since he married Honey, Blake has been better about turning over some of the day-to-day management to his longtime foremen, including our friend Matt, but he still makes all the big decisions.

  I park in the future driveway of the McMansion currently under construction. Bringing several file folders with me, I make my way inside, where Blake and his team are hanging drywall on the first floor. I feel like a fish out of water in my black pants, light blue dress shirt and Ferragamo loafers.

  When Blake sees me, he hands off the nail gun to one of his employees before coming over to greet me with a handshake. “How’s it going?”

  “Good, you?”

  “Great. We’re making excellent progress here today.”

  “Progress is good.”

  “You want a tour?”

  “Sure.”

  Blake walks me through the framed house, pointing out rooms that would soon be a family room, kitchen, formal living and dining rooms, an office, master suite and four additional bedrooms upstairs. “There’ll be five bedrooms and six bathrooms and a media room in the basement.”

  As
I follow Blake through the house, the oddest sensation comes over me. This would be a great house to raise a family. Where in the ever-loving fuck did that come from? I shake off the weird feeling and say all the right things to my friend and client, who is understandably proud of the work his company has done so far on this development.

  “Is this one sold?”

  “Yep, the first fifteen are spoken for. The other fifteen are the ones I’m thinking about building on spec in the hope that this’ll become the next big neighborhood.”

  “With the town building a school out here, you’ve got a sure thing on your hands.” I hand him the report I put together to evaluate the pros and cons of taking on the spec houses.

  “Appreciate you driving out here to get this to me.”

  “Not a problem. If I waited for you to check your email, we’d never get anything done.”

  “This is true,” Blake says with a laugh. He laughs often these days, thanks to his happy marriage. We’re all thankful to have the Blake we used to know back with us after years of hell following Jordan’s death.

  “More pros than cons in the report,” I tell him.

  “I’ll take a look and get back to you with questions. My biggest hesitation is taking on more with the baby due any time now.”

  “You’ve got good people working for you. At the rate you’re growing, you’re either going to need to hire a full-time business manager or take it on yourself.”

  He groans. “I hate that shit. I want to be on the job sites, not stuck in an office.”

  “Then maybe it’s time to recruit for some executive-level help. The more you can delegate, the more you can get done in a day.” We’ve already had this discussion several times in the last year.

  “I know, I know. I’m thinking more about it with the baby coming. I want to be able to spend more time at home, and the only way I can do that is to bring in some help.”

  “Let me know when you’re ready to pull the trigger, and I’ll hook you up with a top recruiting firm.”

  “Go ahead and get me the info on the recruiters. We’ll go from there.”