Center of Gravity

by Neve Wilder

  Alex had been right. Having Winslow with me made everything feel more alive somehow. Less empty, at least.

  “Don’t destroy the carpets, buddy,” I told him the following morning as I left for work.

  “Well, fancy seeing you here,” my boss said with a glimmer of a smile as I knocked. I strolled into his office with my coffee and sat across from him, resting one ankle over the opposite knee.

  “A regular Elvis sighting these days.”

  He chuckled.

  “I went over all of our accounts again, but it looks like Sean got his act together.”

  “He did. He’s really been on top of things lately.”

  I nodded smoothly, “Good.”

  Richard paused, grimaced, and then put his elbows on the desk, lowering his voice, though there was hardly anyone else in the building this early in the morning. “His wife lost the baby. I wasn’t sure he’d say anything. Did he?”

  I shook my head. “Not a thing.” I hadn’t heard from him in weeks, thankfully, but I felt a sympathetic pang for him. “Shit.”

  “Yeah. I think that might have been behind his erratic behavior over the past several weeks. She was pretty far along.”

  A shiver of guilt ran through me for coming down so hard on him when I was last in his office. “I’ll talk to him when he gets in.”

  Richard nodded. “Probably a good idea.”

  We were quiet for a few moments. I studied the pictures on the bookcase behind him. I’d never wanted a family. Not in a traditional sense. I wanted a partner, yes, but I’d never had a strong leaning for kids. Idly, I wondered if Alex wanted them, and almost as soon as the thought surfaced, I buried it with a deep breath.

  Richard cleared his throat and my attention snapped back to him.

  “On the subject of appearances, how are you doing? You look pretty good.”

  I nodded, thumping the air cast. “Aside from this hunk of plastic preventing me from running, I’m good. Back’s good. Got the house done and it’s on the market as of noon today.”

  He studied me so intently it almost flustered me. Had Sean mentioned our relationship?

  “You’ve had a lot on your plate this year. I don’t want you to get overloaded,” he said.

  I sat there for a second, trying to figure out if this was genuine, friendly concern or concern from a business standpoint. Maybe it was a bit of both.

  I found a smile. “I’m fine, Richard, really. Staying busy has been good for me and having the house finished is a load off.”

  “Good,” he said, lacing his fingers over his paunch. “I’ve submitted your name for promotion to partner. It’ll take a bit for it to go through, I imagine, but it’ll see you busier than you ever thought you’d be, that’s for sure.”

  “I can handle it,” I assured him. And I could.

  I thought, though, that I should’ve been more excited. This was everything I’d been working toward, the glossy apex of my career. Instead, a vague unease blossomed in the back of my mind and tickled the edges of my consciousness, maddeningly indefinable. “I appreciate your confidence in me,” I said, and mustered my smile wider.

  “You’ve certainly earned it.”

  I stood, tipping my coffee mug in his direction. “Going to get back to work now, earn my keep.” He winked at me as I shut the door.

  I approached Sean after lunch, rapping on his door before pushing it open. . Three inches of paperwork surrounded a steaming mega-mug of coffee like ramparts. I’d never understood how he could work like that. Dark strands of hair were disheveled by the capricious way he tended to rake his fingers through it and, even after so many months, it was still such a familiar picture that I felt a twinging ache. I used to be the one to bring him that mega-mug of coffee. I’d deliver it to his desk and he’d run his hands over my thighs just out of sight of anyone who might be passing by. It had been a small but enjoyable thrill. I was glad when the twinge faded to nothing.

  He glanced up briefly then doubled back for a second, longer look.

  “I heard you were back.”

  “I am.” I nodded, shifting my weight. “I saw you got everything sorted.”

  He gave me a wan smile then issued a long exhale. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

  We hovered in awkward silence for a few moments, then I sat down across from him.

  “Richard told me about the baby. Why didn’t you tell me? At the least I could have taken over the accounts.”

  “I—the last time we talked, it didn’t go well. I couldn’t figure out where to fit it in amid everything else, I suppose.” His fingers drummed a stack of papers as he rerouted his gaze to the closed door over my shoulder.

  “I’m sorry I came down hard on you. About work,” I clarified. I’d damn well meant everything else.

  He studied his hands again, his keyboard, finally my face. “Everything I said about missing you was true. I wanted to tell you, talk to you, but it’s…that transition is hard to make, you know?”

  I nodded. I understood, and a big part of me was relieved he hadn’t wanted to spill his sorrows to me. I would have wanted to comfort him, distract him, no matter what our status. He still had a small hold, at least on my sympathies.

  “So are we good? As good as we can be, considering?” He gave me a thin smile that I matched with my own.

  “As good as we can be, considering.”

  “I hear Richard put your name up for promotion. Congrats. You deserve it, Rob. You really do.”

  And he was right. I knew I deserved it. The bigger question now? Whether I really wanted it.

  With running out of the question, I took Winslow on a walk through the neighborhood. For once, he was dragging me along as I hobbled down the broken sidewalks. Sidewalks notwithstanding, I lived in a beautiful part of Savannah that I’d never had much time to appreciate, given my work hours. I thought about something Summer had said to me once during tax season. She’d called and I was rushed and short with her while we’d discussed Mom’s prognosis. I felt terrible about it now.

  “You know, plenty of people make it to their goal whether they’re sprinting or walking. The difference is whether the view passes in a blur that you can hardly recall later or not. Me? I like to watch the leaves change,” she’d said.

  Winslow and I turned down a tree-lined avenue and made slow progress beneath dappled light that spilled through a thick canopy of green leaves and ropy Spanish moss. It had rained earlier and the air was damp and loamy and rich. Winslow sniffed every single root, every mailbox, every curiosity we passed, and by the time we made it back to my apartment complex, windows glowed and the streetlights twinkled to life one by one.

  I’d stopped by my mailbox and shuffled aside to make room when I heard someone come up behind me. Winslow yipped and wagged his tail. A slim hand fit a key into the mailbox next to me and I turned to see who it belonged to. The guy was a bit older than me, someone I vaguely recognized in passing. He gave me a smile.

  “32-B. I was convinced you were a ghost.”

  “I suppose I qualify.” I smiled. “I’m an accountant.”

  “Ah, well, that explains a lot.” He grinned back at me. His dark hair was streaked with wisps of gray, but his eyes were keen and sharp, his skin tan, and his suit fit him well. Very well.

  “34-C. Scott Whitmore.”

  I took the hand he extended in my direction and gave it a shake, introducing myself.

  “New dog?” he asked, eyeing Winslow.

  “New to me. It’s a long story. He was my parents’.”

  His smile dimmed sympathetically. “Ah, I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you, but it’s fine. He’s adjusting pretty well. Still hasn’t figured out yet that he’s not six-feet-four and two hundred pounds.”

  Scott laughed. “It’s always the small breeds that do that. My sister had one once. Meanest sumbitch you’ve ever seen.”

  “I believe it.” I gave him another polite smile and shut my box, shuffling my mail to one hip as I prepared t
o leave. “Pleasure to meet you, Scott.”

  “Likewise,” he said, closing his mailbox and starting to turn before he stopped and angled back in my direction. “You play poker, Rob?”

  I tilted my head, intrigued. “I’ve been known to play a hand or two.” At least back in college. No need to date myself, though.

  “A few other folks in the complex and I have a game that goes once every week or so. Alden recently moved, so we’re down a guy. You have any interest?”

  I would have said no any other time. I liked poker, but I didn’t often have enough hours in the day, and I remembered the games going for hours on end. So I didn’t know what it was exactly that made me say yes, but when I did, Scott grinned again and we exchanged numbers.

  “Did it sell yet?” Summer asked when I called later that night.

  “It’s only been on the market for six hours, Sum.”

  “It’s gorgeous, though. Thanks for sending the pictures. I feel like someone will snap it up soon.”

  “Most likely.” I ignored the sliver of sadness that accompanied the thought.

  “So is it good to be back at work, plugged back into the large machine of the world, back to cog status?” she teased. “Is Winslow driving you crazy yet?”

  “It’s good, yeah. They put my name up for promotion. It’ll probably come through in a few weeks. And no, surprisingly, Winslow and I are getting along pretty well. Alex told me. I didn’t believe him.”

  “Alex? Oh, right, Alex! Oh my god. You slept with him, didn’t you?”

  “No.” I groaned, then gave in. “Sort of.”

  I filled her in on everything that had happened. My back, the hospital, and everything that followed after.

  “Holy shit, Rob.”

  “I know. It makes no sense.”

  “That’s so unlike you. I love it. Will you see him again, do you think?”

  “Unlikely. I was pretty clear about things when I left.”

  “That sounds more like my big bro. Always with the rules and boundary lines.”

  “Yeah, well, look what happened with Sean.”

  “So Sean was a mistake, so what?”

  “Sean was a mistake. The end.”

  Summer sighed. I could imagine her looping her hair around her fingers, knotting it up as she did when she was frustrated. “I love you to death Rob, but you can’t plot love in real life like you can a career path or a chart.”

  Alex sent me a text Thursday afternoon as I stretched out at my desk after lunch.

  I don’t want to bother you (much) but could you do me a favor and take a look at some of these loan options? They’re making my head spin. I can’t think in bottom lines like you do.

  I studied the message, unsure whether that last part was a subtle dig, then texted him back my email address, instructing him to send them over and I’d take a look.

  I called him later that afternoon.

  “You’re out of breath,” I said when he answered.

  “This lady has an armoire the size of Texas,” he huffed.

  “So you actually do move things.”

  “Oh, you just thought I was eye-candy? Are you forgetting I’m the one who lifted that fucking bank vault of a couch off your foot? Or moved all your furniture back into place?”

  “Fair point.”

  “So did you take a look at those loans? What do you think?”

  I pushed some papers around my desk and flicked a glance down the hall. Sean’s door was closed. Almost everyone had left for the day.

  “I haven’t had a chance to look at them yet. But it’s supposed to be really nice this weekend. I was thinking about coming out to the island for a night. We could go over them together if you’d like.”

  Alex was quiet for a few seconds, then I heard him adjust the phone before he replied. “Yeah, sure, that sounds great. Thanks, man.”

  This was a mistake. It was definitely a mistake.

  It wasn’t a mistake. Nothing was going to happen. I could offer him some friendly advice without trying to get in his pants like I’d been thinking about all week, right? Right.

  Winslow and I got in around 6:30. Alex was on my porch at seven.

  His gaze raked over me as I stood in the doorway, then he quirked a smile.

  “So this is what businessman at leisure looks like. You do it well.”

  I glanced down at myself. He’d seen me casually dressed before when I’d come to his house in the same jeans and button-down I wore now. Except the button-down in this case was light blue. And I also had a glass of Scotch in my hand, so maybe that was it. I chuckled and looked him over, as well. He was the same golden-bronze paragon of sexiness and youthful charm he always was, knocking a few strands of hair from his forehead as he adjusted the stack of papers in his arms in order to present them to me.

  “I think I can swing it so I keep working on the side but can finish out school, too. Best of both worlds?”

  I took the papers and ushered him inside. “We need to look at interest rates and a few other factors, see which one’s going to make the most sense with your current financials.”

  “That’s what I was counting on,” he said.

  “Step into my office, in that case.”

  We settled in the kitchen with my scotch and a beer for him. I flipped through his papers, scrutinizing the fine print, my forehead on my fist as I read. Realizing he hadn’t moved in some time, I looked up to find him watching me.

  “What?” I asked.

  He shrugged. “Nothing. It’s just kind of sexy watching you in your natural habitat.”

  “This is hardly my natural habitat.”

  “I know, but I can see a glimpse of it. I’ll bet you’re very serious at work, too.” He gave me a rakish smile that burned like liquid fire through my veins. And just like that, I was back to this being a mistake.

  “I am.” I took another swallow of scotch, ordered my thoughts from the chaos they were trying to descend into that involved a lot of Alex’s body parts and my mouth upon them. Then I pushed all but one of the forms aside. “This one’s your best bet.”

  Alex picked up the form and read over it. “All right,” he said, “Great, thanks.”

  We sat in silence for a few moments. Alex finished off his beer, crinkling his can as he watched me, then inhaled and stood, collecting his papers. I followed him up.

  “Anything else?” I asked.

  “Nah. I’m good. I’ll get out of here. Supposed to meet up with some friends, anyway.”

  A tendril of jealousy wound around my throat and forced a mute nod out of me.

  I took his beer can, tossed it in the trash, and followed him into the hallway where he turned and stood in front of me. “I really appreciate it, Rob. Seriously.”

  I wanted him to leave and I also didn’t, but I nodded agreeably regardless. “I’m happy to help. Take it easy tonight, okay?”

  “Sure thing. You do the same.”

  “Hey,” I called out, and he turned, catching the box of Cracker Jack I tossed in his direction and shoving it into his back pocket with a reckless smile.

  Then he threw that goddamned wink at me as he reached for the doorknob and opened the door.

  20

  Alex

  I’d hardly registered movement before Rob was behind me, slamming the door shut even as I was trying to pull it wider. I heard more than felt the back of my head hit the door as he whipped me around and thrust me against it, his fists bunched in the fabric of my shirt near my shoulders. My back thudded against the wood and knocked an oof out of me. Winslow scrambled down the hall, barking at the commotion, but the cacophony filtered through me as if from a distance.

  My world filled with the immediate sound and scent and feel of Rob, how much I fucking missed all of it in just a week, how wolfish and needy his gaze was on me, almost predatorial. His arms wrapped around my neck and he came at me like he’d been starving. I repaid the intensity, hands tearing through his hair until he grunted at the sharp sting of my
nails as they dug into his scalp and pulled him closer. I yanked his head back until his mouth fell open and he winced.

  His kiss was hungry and hot, our tongues twisting together fervently, messy and uncouth. My lip ring knocked against his teeth and Rob seized it in a tight clench, tugging on it as I moaned and pushed my hips against the thick rod in his pants.

  I staggered a breath out, pulled back, and rasped. “I was trying. Fuck—” His hips ground against mine again, insistent.

  “I know,” he panted back. “Me, too.” And then he descended on me again.

  He tugged my T-shirt up, and we separated long enough to pull the thin cotton over my head. I shoved off the frame of the door and then grabbed Rob by the lapels of his shirt when his balance faltered.

  “This is fucking happening,” I muttered, determined, and I caught him starting to smile. My fingers fumbled impatiently at his shirt and finally I gave up and just pulled the thing apart, buttons flying as I wrenched the fabric open and ran my hands over his chest.

  Rob’s back bumped against the stairwell post and he cranked us around, spinning me along the side of the staircase so my back was to him. I grasped the rails as his fingers dug into my hips, circling me and fiddling with the button of my shorts. It was tight and he struggled to get it through the hole.

  “Christ,” he growled. “What is this thing, a fucking titanium chastity belt?”

  I gave a breathless laugh and pushed his hand out of the way, wiggling the button free while his impatient hands waited to shove my shorts to my ankles. “You should know better than to ever use the word chastity around me.”

  I was drunk on him. Tipsy and sluggish and so fucking wanton, my body liquid and bending into his every touch. Seeking it out. Craving it.

  I wrapped my fingers around the railings again, head thrown back while Rob savaged my neck with his teeth in sharp, stinging nibbles before he burned a trail of kisses down my swaying, shuddering spine. My body twisted and turned with every touch, undulating like a cobra against him, my ass nudging his cock through his jeans in unsubtle invitation. When I met the absence of resistance, I snarled in frustration until I realized he’d dropped to a crouch behind me.