by Taryn Quinn
“You owe me,” my father said in a low voice, a muscle jumping visibly under his jaw. “After all I’ve sacrificed for you, that’s it? You’d just walk away and let this law firm crumble? And for what, Preston? If this is about your temp, hell, keep fucking her. See if I care.”
“So happy you’re offering your approval.” I dragged off the tie I’d only just put back on before coming in here, punishing the fabric between my hands to keep from strangling my father.
I never would’ve said I had a violent streak, but lately, the man was testing me.
“As of tomorrow, she won’t be working here anymore, and April will return.” He adjusted his cuff links. “Maybe then everything can go back to normal.”
“No, it can’t. I’m done. You know me well enough to know I don’t make idle threats. I never threatened to go before because I wasn’t ready.”
“Oh, and now you are?”
“So ready.” I pocketed my tie and moved to the door. “You can count on me to finish things out, as I said. I won’t leave until my clients are satisfied they are in good hands. But I will be leaving. And if you talk to Dex before I do, please pass along my thanks.” I flashed my dad a thin smile as I turned the knob. “As usual, he ran his mouth before I could, but in this case, I appreciate it.”
I stepped out into the hall and shut the door behind me. And I grinned, already palming my phone in my pocket.
I was free.
Finally, I was fucking free.
Oh, it wasn’t that simple. I’d likely be tying things up for months. But it didn’t matter. There was a light at the end of my metaphorical tunnel, and this time, it wasn’t a train bearing down on me. I could imagine making it through to the other side.
Even if I wasn’t entirely sure what my life would look like yet.
It wasn’t as if I was going to chuck my law degree to become a professional surfer or something. Never mind that a job like that was impossible in central New York. I wasn’t going to relocate either.
I rubbed the mark on my wrist. I had a very good reason to stay exactly where I was.
But I also loved my house. I loved my family, regardless of the fact that one of them was shortsighted, pigheaded, and a damn fool. I didn’t want to go somewhere else. More than enough existed for me right here.
It was past time I figured out how much more I could have.
Walking down the hall to my temporary office—oh, yeah, I was already moving out in my mind—I pressed the speed dial for my best friend. It had been far too long since we’d spoken, but it looked like I was suddenly going to have a lot more free time.
He took a few rings to answer. Once he did, I could barely hear him.
“Where are you? You sound like you’re in a wind tunnel.”
He replied again, not that I could make it out in the rush of noise. I distinctly heard a feminine laugh and then there came the sounds of movement before the line quieted.
“Sorry about that. How the hell are you, Pres?”
“Where are you?”
“On a beach loving life. You could use one of those.”
So, my buddy was on the same track as I was. Summertime and the living was easy. Well, it was almost fall, and my life wasn’t easy yet, but I was getting there.
“Which beach? I can meet you.”
“Before five on a Thursday? Who are you, and what have you done with my best friend?”
“Try me.”
His laughter was loud and rich. “Pretty sure you can’t meet me, bud. I’m in the South Pacific.”
“What? Are you serious?”
“Sure am. I told you I needed some time off. Well, I took it. Now I’m not sure I’m coming back.” He laughed again.
I frowned. He was kidding. Of course he was. People didn’t go on vacation and just…stay there. Did they?
Then again, most people probably didn’t sleep with a woman one time and rip apart their whole life. Was insanity catching?
Possibly.
The truth of it was that I’d been considering deconstructing my life even before I’d touched Ryan. She’d just helped accelerate things.
“When you say you need a vacation, you’re not kidding around.” I went into my office and eased a hip on the edge of my desk as I fingered the tie in my pocket. I wouldn’t mind not wearing those annoying things every minute of my day, that was for sure.
Besides, who said I had to? Of course I would when I went into court, but there was nothing wrong with trousers and a button-down shirt. My clients would probably expire if they saw me in anything but a full suit, but hey, maybe they needed to be shook up too.
“Nope, I’m tired of the grind, man. It wears at you. Especially in our line of work.” Bishop released a long sigh. “My last client before I hopped on the plane cried on my shoulder, thanking me for saving her family’s compound on Maui from her evil ex. I might’ve felt like Superman, if I didn’t suspect she was just as sketchy as her awful husband.”
I laughed. That was a scenario I knew too well. “I hear you. How long have you been there?”
“Just a few days. Not long enough. Especially since I’ve found an especially interesting distraction to occupy my time.” I could practically hear him waggling his brows.
I chuckled. “You sound like you’re on the prowl.”
“No need. I met her my first night here. Damn, Shaw, I think I’m in love.”
My laughter sounded more than a little crazed. “You too?”
Immediately, I sobered. What the hell was I saying? It was one thing to acknowledge I could want love, and that the possibility of love was more likely than it had been, say, three weeks ago. But to think I was actually in love already?
Nah.
Not possible.
I went to work on the top few buttons of my shirt. For fuck’s sake, I couldn’t be.
Bishop coughed. “Okay, now I think I’ve entered into another dimension. Never mind my own crazy situation, but you? The Preston Michael Shaw, king of all he touches and with no concern for any human emotion ever? I mean, dude, how long has it been since you’ve even hooked up?”
Though I wasn’t one to kiss and tell, considering my recent past I couldn’t help feeling smug. “About an hour ago.”
Static filled the line, and then Bishop let out a laugh. “No way. Same goes. Who is she?”
“Who is yours?” I countered, not wanting to go there yet.
As close as Bishop and I were, too much was in chaos right now. I didn’t want to say too much about Ryan. It seemed wrong somehow. It should be private, at least for a bit. Personal.
Just ours.
Too much of it had already been up for my father’s consumption due to his interruption. I wasn’t about to gossip to Bishop.
He sighed and the sound was decidedly misty for my normally non-emotional best friend. He’d certainly had his share of pain in his past, which he rarely liked to talk about. That included not getting too involved in his personal relationships. In a lot of ways, he was like my brother. He was more discriminating than Dex, but he never stayed lonely for long.
I understood all too well why he didn’t want to be, after what he’d dealt with.
“She’s amazing. Seriously amazing. We’ve been wrapped up in each other for days. We barely break to eat. Unless it’s off each other. I put slices of pineapple on her—”
I held up a hand, but he obviously couldn’t see me. “I get the picture. And normally, I’d say I was jealous, but I’m pretty pleased with my own situation right now. Mine is also local.”
“Yeah. That is a problem.” He paused. “I’m thinking of asking her to come back with me.”
My eyes widened. Something was definitely in the air, even on the other side of the world. “To live with you?”
“Well, she doesn’t have to move in right away, but she could. Why not, right? I like this feeling. Hell, I love this feeling. She’s incredible, Pres. Just the sound of her laughter makes me grin like an idiot.”
&n
bsp; “You know, you’re on a tropical island. I think the hotels pump drugs into the air conditioning system so you spend all your money. Falling for some pretty girl in a lei is just the next step.”
His laughter was quick. “Not in Hawaii, son. No leis. But she wears the fuck out of a bikini. Like I can’t even tell you.”
For a moment, I let myself imagine Ryan in a bikini. Hot pink, to offset her dark hair, jewel eyes, and olive skin.
I shifted on the edge of my desk at my definite discomfort down south. Would she like to go to the South Pacific? I should ask.
And hey, look at that, my schedule was opening up.
“You’ll have to connect me with your travel agent.”
“Oh, is that so? Thinking of finally taking a vacation in oh, 2024 or so?” Bishop teased.
“I’ll have more time on my hands much sooner than that, coincidentally enough.”
Not that I wouldn’t be working. I couldn’t not work. It was in my DNA. I’d just be taking more time to play, especially if I could figure out how to convince Ryan to play with me.
Innuendo absolutely intended.
“Why is that? Your dad’s retiring anytime now, isn’t he?”
“Yes. And so am I. Well, not retiring. But I gave my notice.”
“Notice of what?”
My lips twitched around a smile. “Has too much sex dulled your hearing?”
“Dude, maybe. I’m not sure half my senses are still working. But what a damn way to go. Now what exactly are you talking about? Use small words. I’m exhausted.”
“My heart breaks for you.” I had to grin. “I quit. I’m no longer a partner of Shaw, Shaw, and Shaw. Guess they’re going to have to change that name, huh?”
We would’ve had to anyway once my father officially retired, but now the firm wouldn’t only be made up of Shaws. It would be Shaw and Stone, assuming Bishop didn’t run off with his cabana girl and never returned to Kensington Square.
Such a thing would’ve seemed impossible just a short time ago, just like my giving my notice.
Just like either of us—hell, both of us—falling for some mystery woman. Not that Ryan was a secret to me. I knew there was so much more left for me to learn about her, but I was committed to the prospect.
I would leave no stone unturned, starting with how many times I could make her come back to back. So far we were at two, but I’d always been an overachiever.
“You’re going to have to do some serious backtracking, man.” Someone spoke over Bishop’s shoulder, and he laughed in a way I’d never heard from him before. Free and easy and unburdened. “Look, I’ve gotta go but I want to hear the full story when I’m back in a few days. Drinks at Lonegan’s on me?”
“Absolutely, but they’ll be on me since part of the story involves you. Have a good time. Do everything I wouldn’t do and then give me some tips.” I hung up to the sound of my buddy’s laughter.
It was a great sound, one I hoped to hear a lot more often.
I smiled as I walked around my desk and found the box of my coffee pods sitting on my chair with a lipstick kiss on the box.
Ryan Goddess Moon was a godsend in more ways than one.
While I popped one of them into the brewer, I called my car dealership and made a few subtle inquiries. I was interested in a new vehicle. Something less…beige.
My account representative got very excited indeed and invited me to come by for a test drive in an hour. I started to say no, since it was only late afternoon and I still had a stack of paperwork waiting for me—and apparently, my assistant had taken her leave early.
Hard for me to get too mad there. Emphasis on hard. Especially since I intended to see her again this evening.
Wouldn’t this car make a statement when I did?
I agreed to meet for the test drive and hung up to take my first sip of my beloved. I sat behind my desk and let the sweet warmth slide through my system, prodding my already overstimulated nerve endings. In no time, I’d finished the cup and went back for a second. The substandard kind from the supply closet was no comparison to this.
Now that I was fully caffeinated, I glanced down at myself. I couldn’t go to the dealership like this. I needed a shower. Desperately.
I took one glance at my pile of files and grabbed my briefcase to sweep them inside. On the way to the door, I grabbed my phone again and texted Dex.
PMS: What’s the name of your tattoo parlor?
Dex: Dude, don’t do it. Not if you’re going to tat something like ESQ on your ass.
I snorted.
PMS: Did Ryan tell you about her fascination with that word?
Dex: No, but I know she has a fascination with you.
My typical response would be to change the subject. But since I had it on good authority she did have a fascination with me, I only sent back a quick reply.
PMS: And vice versa.
Dex: Finally he admits it! Is she the reason for the tattoo inquiry? Not that your last tat choice wasn’t inspired.
I winced and wiggled the toes on my left foot in my shoe.
PMS: I’ve done questionable things while drunk in college. But I’m not drunk now.
Dex: Sure about that? And why do you say that? Tattooing big beneath your big toe seems logical 2 me.
I rode the elevator downstairs and headed out to my car. The sunny afternoon was sweltering, and my shirt clung to my skin within a moment of stepping outside. I was already looking forward to that ice-cold shower.
PMS: It seemed smart at the time. Tattoo place, please? I’m about to drive.
Dex rattled off the address before sending over a followup question.
Dex: Seriously, I know you don’t have much of a social life lately, but no matter how good the pussy is, do not put her name on you. Do not do it. I implore you. You’re begging to hate her by Tuesday.
I laughed as I unlocked my car and slipped inside. The interior was like the surface of the freaking sun. I turned on the car and blasted the AC. My new possible purchase was seeming smarter all the time.
PMS: No names, I promise. And you really shouldn’t be so crass.
Dex: But you didn’t deny it. Go big or go home, right? Even your toe knows that.
I smiled as I replied.
PMS: Thanks. Later.
I quickly called the tattoo place and asked to make an appointment, which struck the guy on the other end of the line as odd. He told me to come in two hours from now and that was that.
All at once, I had a packed schedule this evening. Now I could just hope my last stop of the night appreciated all these changes.
And if she didn’t, well, I would.
Go big toe or go home.
Eighteen
I unfolded myself from my cross-legged position. My back—and other tender things—reminded me that drawing on my bed was stupid. But I hadn’t been able to settle since I left work.
More than a bit early, to be honest, but I didn’t care. My level of overwhelm was in the red-line zone. Drawing was usually the only way for me to handle it. Yet even my little fox couldn’t lure me in like she usually did.
Roz, my human character, was even snarkier than usual.
I tossed my iPad and iPencil on my twisted sheets before heading into my kitchen for something cold. I’d tried to call Luna, but she had clients until late evening. I really didn’t want to have to explain my jangling nerves to my best friend. She was far too astute.
It was just sex.
And okay, it had been more than a few months since I’d gotten naked—or partially naked—with a guy. I stayed in my own lane most of the time. Between work and the web comic, I just didn’t have the mental space to date.
It was also too damn hot to think about getting naked with people.
Didn’t stop you from doing it in the records room, chick.
I rubbed my hands over my face. I’d taken a shower as soon as I got home and stripped down to the basics, choosing a long, shapeless dress that was super light, and I’d l
et my hair air-dry into its natural waves.
But even my ancient dress felt like too much. My skin was still buzzing from PMS’s touch and it had been hours ago.
Usually, a shower reset me. It was how I ended my work day and switched to my creative brain side. Right now, I was drowning in flashbacks from the records room.
His mouth.
His fingers.
The way he held me like I was breakable one moment, then proved to me I was invincible the next.
But then I’d left and he hadn’t texted me, not even after finding my present. Which actually he’d bought for himself, but whatever. It was the thought that counted, right?
Unless he was already regretting what we’d done…
“Stop it,” I ordered myself as I swung open the refrigerator door. I pulled out a pitcher of ice water loaded with citrus slices and filled a thermal cup. I had a million things to do and none of them included Preston Michael Shaw.
I sat at my kitchen table and opened my laptop. My email was mocking me with that ugly number of unread messages. I shook my hair back. I could answer some emails.
“Alexa, play work playlist.”
The heavy bass of a Daughtry song filled the room. I spent the next twenty minutes hacking away at spam and parceling out requests for readings for the following week.
When my life got back to normal.
One more day of working for PMS and I was free.
I rubbed the knot sitting in my chest. Free, dammit. It was only supposed to be a week. No, it was only a week. Period.
When I opened a third email for a love reading, I snapped the laptop shut. I didn’t want to think about love readings or relationships. I pushed my chair back and grabbed my favorite kickass tarot deck.