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by Adriana Locke

  “Nothing went on in here. I refuse for it to look like something did. That’s the way rumors get spread, Mr. Landry.”

  “Mallory, I . . .”

  I get a final look at his face, reach up and straighten his tie as his eyes go wide, then turn towards the door. “I’ll send Ford in.”

  “Mallory!”

  “Yeah?” I turn to the side. He’s standing by the table, his hands in his pockets looking frazzled. When he doesn’t respond, I place my hand on the knob. “I’ll have that file back to you before I leave today. Thanks again for lunch.”

  I walk out before I can change my mind.

  Graham

  “DON’T LOOK AT ME LIKE that,” Ford says, counting out a final ten push-ups and then hopping to his feet no worse for the wear. “Your ass could be down here doing these with me.”

  “Absolutely I could.” I take a sip of tea from my seat on the porch swing. “But I’m not.”

  The air is crisp, a wind blowing across the lawn of the Farm. Our family’s getaway is an escape from the hustle and bustle of life, where we all come to congregate and get fresh air and have big-scale family dinners. We all have a space here, a bedroom that we use when we need a spot to land. Granted, I don’t ever use mine, but the others do. Ford is staying here until he finds a place of his own.

  “I’m thinking about hiring Barrett’s trainer, Achilles,” Ford says, stretching his arms overhead. “I’m having a hard time getting a hard enough workout in on my own.”

  “Paying someone to kick your ass. I’ve never understood that,” I joke. “Seems like you could just run another mile or lift another set and do it without shelling out money.”

  “It takes effort to look like this,” my brother says, flexing his biceps.

  “Do you forget you basically look like me? Just less good-looking?”

  “You wish,” Ford laughs. “You should see how your assistant looks at me.”

  I glare at him and he only laughs harder. “How are things going with Mallory?”

  I let my mind go to the one moment that I keep replaying. Her looking up, her eyes filled with every ounce of lust I was feeling, along with a dose of uncertainty. The way her lips parted in anticipation, how her chest rose and fell as she tried to stay calm. The smell of lavender is as fresh as it was as I breathed her in for the first time.

  “That good, huh?” Ford chuckles.

  “She’s smart. Doing a good job.” I rise from the swing and lean against the rail.

  “Nice vanilla answer. I love your evasiveness. You’re turning into Barrett.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “I chatted with her a bit before I left your office today,” he informs me. “I like her.”

  My head snaps to his. “What do you mean?”

  My brother’s laugh comes immediately. “Just like I thought.”

  “Just like you thought what?”

  “It’s only natural. She’s a nice girl. She’s seems smart. She’s gorgeous as hell.”

  I take a quick sip of tea to keep him from looking at me too closely. “I’m not following along.”

  “Only because you’re still chasing her tail, which is exactly my point.”

  “Whoa,” I say, standing up straight. “I think you’re ahead of yourself.”

  He climbs the stairs to the porch and leans against the rail on the other side, grinning at me. “I haven’t been around much these last few years. I only know what our siblings tell me, mostly meaning Camilla, plus what Mom and Dad volunteer. But none of them have ever mentioned you with a woman. Not seriously.”

  “This is not news.”

  “But why, Graham? It’s like everyone in the family is moving on, starting their own thing. Lincoln is having a kid. Barrett will eventually grow a pair and do the same. I’m not averse to the idea myself. But you? Don’t you want a family of your own some day?”

  “Sure.”

  I leave him standing on the porch as I head into the house. I don’t close the door behind me because I know he’ll follow. Sure enough, when I get into the kitchen and turn around, he’s standing in the doorway.

  “I’m not pressing you,” Ford says. “To be honest, I couldn’t give a shit about what you do with your life as long as you keep working because that benefits my bottom line.”

  “Fuck off,” I chuckle.

  “But I do think you work too much. I think you take shit too seriously. I think one day you’ll look back on your life and wish you’d lived a little more.” With a simple shrug, he turns and starts down the hallway. “I’m jumping in the shower. If you leave before I get out, lock the door.”

  His footsteps fall against the steps, his weight causing the floor joists above me to creak as he makes his way to the bedroom at the end of the hallway upstairs.

  I hate when he does this. He says something semi-insightful and then leaves you to think about it. I don’t want to think about it.

  The kitchen is quiet, the only sound coming from the birds outside. This is why everyone loves it here. It’s almost its own world.

  I venture out onto the back porch, Ford’s words echoing in my head. He’s wrong—I am happy. I live my life exactly how I want it. I designed it this way.

  I had to.

  A myriad of imagery races through my mind. I can see her tears rolling down her tanned cheeks, feel my stomach twist in what I’m sure is some kind of death knell. I see my father’s disapproving face and my mother’s look of sympathy, and I know I can never do that again.

  The last time I went off plan, I nearly lost everything. Anxiety sets in, my head filling with what-ifs—questions I’ll never have answers to. Maybe answers I don’t even want because it won’t make any difference. Things are what they are. There is no changing that. I go through my well-practiced routine of reminding myself I’ll never lose control like that again in order to gain some relief.

  My phone buzzes and I pull it out, happy for the distraction. I see a familiar number, a woman I meet sometimes for a bite to eat and then a quick fuck. It’s routine between us, neither of us wanting more than a release. I return her message with a quick text that I’m busy tonight, even though I’m not. I’m just not feeling it.

  Even as I type that out, I know it’s a lie. I am feeling it, just not with her. As my brain begins to parade images of Mallory Sims through my memory, my lips part into a smile.

  “What is it about you, Mallory?” I ask out loud, my voice carrying off in the wind. Unfortunately for me, the wind doesn’t answer.

  As my brothers have attested, there’s no denying her beauty. She’s fucking beautiful with her sexy lips, bright eyes, curvy body. Her brains make her a step ahead of the other women I see occasionally, because brains and beauty in one package? That’s heaven, a combination that just does it for me. But I’ve seen it before. Once, to be sure. Or so I thought. And that’s precisely why I’m not about to do it again.

  As hard as it is, figuratively and literally, to work with her every day, I have to make it happen. She’s the best thing to happen to my office since Linda. The fact that she opens up parts of me that haven’t been touched since Vanessa is the scary part.

  I let the sun shine down on my face, warming me. As my eyes shut, it’s Mallory’s giggle I hear and the heat of her breath I imagine on my skin. Instead of going back in the house like I should, stopping this stupid little fantasy before it gets out of hand, or worse, routine, I stand on the porch and relish the feeling for a few more minutes.

  The fact that I’m not just imagining her beneath me, losing myself inside her, but thinking about her smile, the way she tells a story—that’s a problem. It’s the scariest part of all.

  Mallory

  My bright red toenails wiggle in front of me. “This close, Joy. This. Close.” I bring my hands to my feet and stretch on the purple yoga mat under me.

  “You were this close to half of the dreams I’ve had in my life,” she laughs from her Downward Facing Dog. “I used to practice writing ‘Joy Landr
y’ in my notebooks. I wasn’t even sure which one I wanted. Come to think of it, I don’t think I really cared.”

  I struggle to keep the smile off my face, but when I look at Joy and our eyes meet, we both start giggling. “Graham, Joy. Oh. My. God.”

  “What are you going to do about it?” she asks. “You work for him. It’s not like you met him at some charity ball or something.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” I say, touching my toes. “I’m just going to go with the flow. See what happens. I mean, let’s be real. Nothing is really going to happen. It’s Graham Landry and me.”

  “Shut up. Don’t talk about yourself like that.”

  I roll my eyes. “You know what I mean. He can have whomever he wants. Even if I get lucky and somehow get lucky,” I grin, “that’s all it will be.”

  “Will you be okay with that?” she asks skeptically.

  “I hope . . .” I say, grimacing as the muscles in my legs start to burn, “I’m more than okay with it.” Standing, I look at her. “I’m taking risks, remember? I’ve never been able to just flirt and be spontaneous and have fun. If Graham plays back with me, then he does. I’m more than happy to be on the receiving end of that. If he stops or gets weird about it, I’ll stop. It’s pretty simple.”

  She smiles and goes back to her stretching. I go back to my endless thoughts.

  I’m not sure it is as simple as I just made it out to be. I explained it like it’s a purely physical attraction, and it is, for the most part. But I can’t deny I enjoyed talking to him yesterday. Our banter was fun, easy, and having him interested in what I had to say, even if he was humoring me, was the most fun I’ve had with a man in a long time. Maybe ever. That’s sad, but it’s also true.

  The bells chime on the door of the yoga studio where I work part-time in the evenings. It’s closed, the last class wrapping just a few minutes ago. Sienna introduced me to yoga in high school when it was the trendy thing to do. She does it off and on, but I was hooked immediately and haven’t stopped. I love the way it centers me. Without it, my body and my mind would be even more chaotic than they are now.

  “Hey, girls,” Camilla says, dropping her pink bag to the floor and removing her shoes.

  “Hi,” Sienna says, padding across the mat. They roll out their mats and take seats next to Joy and I, forming a haphazard circle. “What are you two talking about? You looked all chatty until we walked in.”

  Joy looks at me out of the corner of her eye with a smirk. “Do you two really want to know?”

  “Maybe not,” Camilla says, her brows pulling together. She looks at me with a puzzled look. “Do I, Mal?”

  “I do,” Sienna retorts. “Spill it.”

  “I want to do dirty, dirty things to Graham,” I grin.

  Camilla flops back on the mat, her hands covering her face.

  “I think I just puked a little in my mouth,” Sienna says, looking at me. “Did you really just say that?”

  “That’s just the tip of the iceberg,” I wink. “It’s your fault. You’re the one that got me the job working in such a confined area with him. What did you think would happen, Sienna? Have you even looked at him lately?”

  “Yeah,” she says, wincing. “All the time. And I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.”

  Joy sighs as she stands. “You’re lucky you didn’t hear her story from today.”

  Sienna’s face twists in disgust as I stand, laughing. We all stretch quietly, each of us mulling over our own thoughts. Joy’s obviously mirror mine because every time I make eye contact with her, I have to look away so I don’t start giggling again.

  “Are you ready to date again?” Sienna asks.

  “I don’t know. If I found the right guy, I’m sure I would,” I admit. “But I don’t even know what I’m looking for at this point. It’s been so long since I thought about it.”

  “Have you talked to Eric?” Camilla asks. The sweeter of the two sisters, her voice is soft and comforting. She reminds me of their mother—prim and proper and nurturing. Sienna, on the other hand, is more lively. She’s the one you could call at midnight and ask to sneak out and go for a drive. Camilla would’ve died before breaking the rules.

  I hold my Warrior pose as long as I can, weighing my words before answering her. “I haven’t talked to him. I doubt I’ll ever hear from him again, to be honest.” I release the pose and breathe. “I’m okay with that. It’s the way I want it, actually. If he called, it would just set me back. I need to be focused on what I want and what I’m able to get.”

  “You can get anything you want,” Camilla says. “You can go to school. Teach yoga. Change jobs or—”

  “Move to LA with me,” Sienna chimes in. “Cam is right. You can do whatever you want.”

  “You make it sound so easy.”

  “If you’re thinking about dating, I know a guy,” Camilla offers, ignoring her sister’s glare, “that I think you might like.”

  “I’m sure you do,” Sienna says.

  “Don’t start,” Camilla fires back. “I don’t say a word about your little friends-with-benefits thing with what’s-his-name and I know him. I don’t know why you feel the need to put down a guy you don’t even know.”

  “Because I don’t know him!” Sienna jumps to her feet, the purple ends of her hair swishing behind her. “You won’t let me meet him. You made me promise not to even bring him up to Linc or Graham or Barrett. That says something, Cam.”

  “It says I don’t want them to run him off before I decide if I like him or not! I need some room this time,” Camilla says, taking a step towards her twin. “Once you all come into play, you either plant thoughts in my head or you scare him off.”

  “Only when we need to,” Sienna says.

  “I don’t do that to you!”

  “Because I don’t need it,” Sienna says, holding her ground. “You’re the fragile one, Cam. You’re the one we all have to watch out for.”

  “Hey,” I say, a little louder than necessary. “Settle down, you guys.”

  Their faces fall, Camilla’s eyes finding the mat and Sienna, the fierier of the two, shaking her head.

  “I’m sorry, Sienna. Just give me some space, okay?”

  Sienna holds her hand out and Camilla squeezes it. Their bond makes me smile.

  “Anyway, you were saying something about a guy you know?” I ask gently. I don’t really care, but I don’t want this silence to last for too long.

  “He’s nice,” Camilla says. “He just moved back to town too. Well, I guess he’s always lived here, but he was gone for a while. Keenan Marks. Do you remember him?”

  I shake my head. “Maybe vaguely. Short black hair?”

  “Yup. I think you should let him take you out. He remembers you,” she smiles softly. “I think y’all met before you went to Columbia.”

  My first inclination is to say no. But when I look at Cam’s hopeful face and Joy’s raised brow, asking me without asking me what I’m going to do about Graham, I realize I might be able to kill a couple of birds with one stone.

  “Give him my number,” I say, getting back into Warrior position. “We’ll see how it goes.”

  Graham

  THE GREEN FLAGS COME OFF the file easily. Wadding them up, I throw them in the trash.

  “Well done, Ms. Sims,” I say out loud. The first error was intentional. I was just curious how well she paid attention to detail. Apparently, she’s careful because the second two she found weren’t on purpose and that’s a problem in and of itself.

  “Graham?” Mallory’s voice rings through the intercom. It’s sweet, professional as always. Anyone overhearing it wouldn’t think twice, but I do. I hear the little tease, the slight taunt that lies just beneath the surface.

  Besides her keeping me in a state of constant distraction, I hate to admit Lincoln was right: It is nice having her around.

  “Yes?” I respond.

  She smacks her lips together, the sound going straight to my cock.
This is what I’ve been waiting on all day, the moment when she brings up what almost happened yesterday. Despite thinking about it all night and all morning, replaying the things I wish would’ve happened, I’m still not sure how I’m going to deal with it.

  I want her. Of course I fucking do. I’ve admitted that to myself. Intelligence, round ass, sharp tongue—what’s left to be desired? But that’s just the thing . . . it’s all desire. It simply won’t work. Besides, desire uncontained can really fucking burn.

  The women I fuck aren’t involved in my life in any way. They’re acquaintances, women that know our time together is just that—a few hours here and there. It offers me freedom to work without the trappings of a relationship. It gives me autonomy to do what needs to be done. It’s clean, organized, practical. Mallory Sims is none of those things.

  So what happens if that box is opened? I already know she doesn’t fit inside a mold. I can’t just put this girl back in a box and I’m not sure where that would leave me. Her. Us.

  I sit at my desk and stare at the phone, waiting to see exactly what she has to say. She’s been very coy all morning. Polite. Detailed. Hot as hell. But she hasn’t crossed a line or asked me about yesterday. Until now.

  “Graham?” she asks again.

  “I’m sorry. I’m here. What can I do for you?”

  “Your mother is on line one.”

  Chuckling, I place my hand on the receiver. “Not what I thought you were going to say.”

  “Hmmm . . .” she says. “What did you think I was going to say?”

  The silence is filled with a heaviness that’s undeniable.

  “I can tell her you’re busy.”

  “But I’m never too busy for my mother,” I grin. “Send her through.” I wait, relieved, to hear her voice.

  “Good afternoon, Graham,” she says sweetly in the phone.

  “Hi, Mother.”

  “I suppose you heard the news. Lincoln and Danielle are getting married at the Farm.”

  “I did. Barrett told me.”

  “Oh,” she says, sounding surprised. “Linc didn’t say anything to you at all? That’s odd.”