Hooked

by Elizabeth Hunter

  And when she woke, he was untying her hands and kissing her wrists, whispering sweet things against her skin and cuddling her against his chest.

  “You staying the night?” He played with a lock of hair that had fallen across her cheek.

  “I brought a bag.”

  “Good.” He kissed her temple. “I’ll make you breakfast in the morning. Sleep.”

  When she woke, it was to the sound of heavy breathing near the bedroom door. Tayla pushed her hair out of her eyes. “What are you doing?”

  “Practicing my golf swing.” Jeremy looked over his shoulder and grinned as he did another pull-up. His knees were bent and his arms extended as he raised and lowered himself on the pull-up bar over his doorway.

  “You know, for some reason I thought that bar was a kinky sex thing or something related to rope storage.”

  “It is a kinky sex thing. I just use it for pull-ups too.”

  Sweat was dripping down his back, which flexed and bulged with every extension.

  She looked at the clock. It was barely seven a.m. “Do you do this every morning?”

  “Every other morning.” He did two more pull-ups. “Arm strength is really important for bouldering.”

  She sat back and relaxed against his headboard. “I fully approve of this activity.”

  Jeremy laughed. “I’m glad.”

  “Not at all because it’s sexy. I’m only thinking about your health. And bouldering of course.”

  “You’re so thoughtful, Miss McKinnon.”

  “I try.”

  “Give me a few more minutes to finish up and take a quick shower. Then I’ll go make you breakfast. You want the shower first?”

  “Sure.” It all felt so domestic. Like she was playing house or on vacation with a boyfriend. Only she’d never had a boyfriend. She’d never wanted one.

  But she wanted Jeremy.

  “Shower?” He nodded toward the bathroom, still pulling his body up with only his arm strength.

  “Yeah.” She hopped out of bed, buck naked, watching him as he watched her. “Like the view?”

  “It’s a nice way to wake up in the morning.”

  She glanced at his gym shorts. “You’re insatiable.”

  Jeremy grinned. “He knows what he likes.”

  “Shower.” She grabbed her bag and ducked into his bathroom, flipping on the light. She fiddled with the faucet handle and turned it all the way to hot, guessing that like the bathroom at Emmie’s place, this one also took a while to heat up.

  Old houses. Old plumbing.

  She tied her hair up and put on some music to shower to. A thumping piano and the cheerful beat of “No New Friends” put a smile on her face. Then she locked the door.

  There was seeing her naked, there was sex, then there was watching her shower. She wasn’t a bathroom sharer, not with Jeremy. Not with anyone. Some things didn’t need to shared: bathrooms, toothbrushes, excessive baby pictures on Instagram. There were rules about things for a reason.

  Tayla rinsed off, dancing a little as she showered.

  When was the last time I was this happy?

  The thought bumped into her head like an obnoxious pop-up ad.

  When was the last time you were this happy, Tayla?

  She didn’t know.

  Don’t you think it has something to do with Jeremy?

  Great sex always made her happy though. It was great sex. The whole purpose of it was to make you happy.

  It’s more than the sex.

  It was more than the sex.

  It was definitely… more.

  What would she do when it was time to leave? She was already suffering from headaches and withdrawal symptoms when she spent a few days away from him. It was becoming a serious problem. What was she going to do?

  What will he do?

  What would Jeremy do? Jeremy would be fine. He was well-adjusted. He was wonderful. Once Tayla was gone, he’s probably find a real girlfriend. Someone who wanted marriage and babies and all that stuff.

  Fuuuuuuck that.

  She felt her jaw clench. Her fingernails bit into her palms. The unexpected surge of anger made her blink. What was happening to her?

  Tayla shut off the water and listened for Jeremy in the bedroom. He was humming along to Pink, occasionally singing along, and he obviously knew the words.

  “Of course he does,” she muttered. “He’s perfect.” He read feminist comics and had crazy, sexy muscles and ate ethically sourced beef products. “He probably knows all the dance moves to ‘Single Ladies’ too.”

  “Tayla?”

  She was mental. “Yeah?”

  “I’m gonna go downstairs and start the coffee, okay?”

  “Okay.” Suddenly Tayla didn’t want to leave the bathroom. If she didn’t leave the bathroom, maybe she wouldn’t have to confront the terrifying idea that she might just be falling stupid in love with Jeremy Allen.

  She waited to hear the door shut before she poked her head back into the bedroom. Nothing looked different, but everything had changed. Jeremy had made the bed and folded her scarf neatly on the side table.

  She could smell the coffee brewing downstairs. Could hear the low rumble of male voices. Pop was awake. Jeremy was probably cooking, making sure his grandfather took his medication, and mentally getting his day in order.

  He would make a wonderful father.

  What? Why had she even thought that?

  She didn’t want children… probably! Her parents were nightmares, and she had no idea what to do with kids. Sure, she liked teenagers, but they didn’t give you a teenaged kid at the hospital. They gave you a little squirmy one that didn’t talk and pooped all the time. Did she know how to teach a baby how to poop in a toilet? Of course she didn’t. Her parents had probably hired someone to do that.

  Why was she thinking about children? And pooping?

  “Tayla?”

  “I’m coming!” She paced around the bedroom, her heart starting to race. “I’ll just be a minute.” She paused in front of Jeremy’s dresser and opened the top drawer. It was a little messy, but he had his socks folded. And underwear. He even had a row of cotton handkerchiefs in the corner.

  “Of course he does.” She slammed the drawer shut.

  Jeremy would want children. When Jeremy Allen fell in love with someone, he would want to marry that someone and stay married and celebrate a golden anniversary or whatever prize you got when you stayed married for a really long time.

  He would want the wedding and the house and camping trips and drink-your-milk-before-school and good grades, and he’d probably volunteer to be a soccer coach or something. He’d live his life, running his shop in Metlin and climbing mountains on weekends and raising a family and being a happy, contented, perfect grown-up.

  That’s why you’re freaking out, Tayla. He’s not some shallow little boy you can play with and leave behind when you get bored.

  What the hell had she done? Tayla sat on the edge of the bed and clutched her phone like a security blanket when she realized the truth.

  She’d gone and fallen in love with an actual man.

  She didn’t want to leave him, but she also wasn’t sure she wanted the same life he did. What were you supposed to do with that? And she wasn’t feeling philosophical about their eventual separation. The phrase c’est la vie had not crossed her mind. In fact, she was pissed just thinking about it.

  She was pissed about something that hadn’t even happened!

  But it would.

  Her phone buzzed in her hand. She slid it open and saw the notification of a new email. A sense of dread hit her stomach when she saw who it was from.

  “Dear Tayla, We wanted to make the formal offer in writing. Azim and I are so excited to offer you a position…”

  The offer that would have made her dance a month ago suddenly felt like a burden she didn’t want to carry.

  They needed an answer within a week.

  The salary was… far more generous than she’d expec
ted.

  Medical.

  Retirement matching.

  She heard his footsteps on the stairs.

  “Tayla?” Jeremy cracked the door open. “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  He knelt down in front of her. “What’s going on?”

  I’m in love with you.

  You probably want marriage and children.

  I don’t know what I want.

  Except you. I want you.

  Tayla held up her phone. “SOKA offered me the job. I need to give them an answer by next week.”

  Tayla saw everything in his eyes. Panic. Pride. Fear. Determination. She blinked back tears, resenting their intrusion.

  Jeremy leaned forward and kissed her. “Congratulations, Miss McKinnon. I knew you’d kick ass.”

  She threw her arms around his neck and clutched him tight. “You’re not going to ask me to stay in Metlin, are you?”

  His fingers dug into her back. He kissed her neck. “You know I can’t.”

  “Dammit.”

  “Whatever you want, Tayla.” He kept kissing her neck. “You have to do what’s right for you.”

  You’re right for me.

  So was this job.

  How could she make a choice between the life she always wanted and the life she’d never imagined she’d want?

  Tayla wanted it all.

  Impossible.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Tayla flipped the sign over at Café Maya and pointed to Adrian Saroyan, who was still sipping his coffee and reading the paper.

  “Out,” she said.

  He frowned. “This place closes at four. It’s only three forty-five, and I want to sit, enjoy my paper, and—”

  “So help me”—Tayla leaned over and put her palms flat on his table—“if you don’t get your skinny little suit-clad ass out of here in the next five minutes, I will make your life a living hell, Adrian.”

  His eyes went wide.

  “I am having a personal crisis,” Tayla said. “And you are not part of my girl gang. So leave.”

  He gulped. “Is it a financial crisis, because I’m really good with—”

  “I appreciate that you’re trying to be relevant, but I have an accounting degree from Stanford and was raised by Aaron McKinnon, founding partner of McKinnon, Foster, and Smith. I do not need your financial advice, and I do not want you here. Leave.”

  He got to his feet and straightened his tie. “I was just trying to help.”

  “You can help by leaving.” She walked him to the door, opened it, and shut it behind him. “Daisy!”

  The girl behind the counter watched her with wide eyes. “She just took the trash out to the alley.”

  “Are you done here?”

  “I need to wash the dishes.”

  “Do you know Jeremy Allen?”

  She frowned. “Who?”

  “Fine. You can stay.”

  Daisy walked in the back door. “Hey, Ronnie, can you check the storage room? I think we need to order more— Tayla? Hey!”

  Tayla walked to her and held out both hands. “I need advice from a grown-up. And you’re the most grown-up person I know that I can still talk to about my sex life.”

  Daisy looked over Tayla’s shoulder. “Ronnie, you can clock out early today, hon.”

  “Okay.” The girl scurried away.

  “Tayla,” Daisy said softly, “she is a junior in high school.”

  “You think she doesn’t know what sex is? I guarantee she does.”

  “Sit.” Daisy went behind the counter. “Coffee or tea?”

  “Vodka?”

  “No vodka.” Daisy laughed. “What is wrong with you?”

  “I’m in love with Jeremy Allen, and I have no idea how to teach a baby how to use a toilet.”

  Daisy blinked rapidly. “Wow. There’s so much going on there.”

  “Do you know? Do babies even use toilets? What age does that happen? See, these are things that adults should know, right? I thought I was an adult, but clearly I am not.”

  “Are you pregnant? Is that what’s happening? If yes, please tell me Jeremy is the father.”

  “Because he is a grown-up who would know how to handle this shit, right?” She walked to a table. “And I am a grown-up who knows how to contact a Kardashian if I really, really wanted to. Not that I do want to. I’m just saying that if I called in a few favors, I could probably—”

  “Tayla!” Daisy walked over and shoved her into a chair. “Sit. Chill. I’m calling Emmie.”

  “Fine! But I have seen her checkbook. She is no more prepared for adulthood than I am.” Tayla rapped her fingers on the table and stared out the window. It didn’t help that Top Shelf Comics sat almost directly across the street. “Also, I’m not pregnant.”

  “Good. Especially if you’re thinking about turning to vodka.”

  Jeremy was probably inside, helping a customer find the newest edition of their favorite superhero comic or helping a mom buy a game for a picky fourteen-year-old. He was good at that stuff, helping people get what they needed. His encouragement was probably one of the reasons she was offered the position at SOKA. She’d been drinking more water. He was the one who suggested paper handouts for her presentation even though she’d only been thinking digital.

  And now she was going to leave him.

  She laid her forehead on the table. “My life is a mess.”

  Daisy put a mug of coffee on the table and patted her hair. “I thought things were going well. Did you hear about the job?”

  “Yes. They offered it to me.”

  “That’s amazing! Congratulations! Did you tell Jeremy?”

  “I was at his house when I got the email. That was right after I realized I am in love with him and I do not actually believe in serial monogamy because I would destroy any other woman he tried to sleep with ever again in any foreseeable future.”

  “Okay, well, that is a violent reaction to realizing you’re in love.” Daisy cleared her throat. “Maybe take a deep breath. Emmie’s on her way over. What we need to do is make a pros and cons list for—”

  “I tried that.” Tayla sat up and pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket. “I already tried that. In fact, I wrote it all out.” She smoothed the paper and spread it on the table. “See? On this side, I wrote down all the great things about working at SOKA. And on the other side, all the great things about Jeremy.” She shoved the paper in Daisy’s face. “See? They’re the same!”

  Daisy’s eyes went wide. “Wow. I didn’t ever need to know some of that.”

  Tayla glanced at the paper. “Oh. Yeah, I included some sexual positions that were pretty unique, but the point is”—she crumpled the paper up—“it doesn’t matter! Because not all data points have equal value. How do I weigh ‘has good health insurance’ on the same line as ‘is sincerely kind to old people’? One of these things is fundamentally more important than the other in the grand scheme of life.”

  The bell over Daisy’s door rang and Emmie walked in. “What’s going on?”

  “Existential crisis,” Daisy said. “Tayla realized she’s in love with Jeremy, SOKA offered her the job in San Francisco, and she’s having some surprising issues with toilet training.”

  Emmie’s eyebrows went up. “That is surprising.”

  “Not me!” Tayla threw her hands up. “I’m concerned that I am not a fully equipped adult person capable of having a mature relationship with someone like Jeremy, who you both cannot deny will fully expect a serious relationship to eventually result in marriage and children and things like that.”

  “Aren’t you jumping ahead a bit on this?” Daisy said. “I mean, there’s a difference between admitting you believe in true love and jumping into a full-on relationship with a man—admittedly a really great man—but you haven’t been dating that long.”

  “If I am this conflicted about taking a job that pays a very generous six-figure salary because it will be the end of my relationship with this man, it better be a serio
us relationship.” She dug her fingers into her hair and pulled. “If it’s not serious, then what the hell are we doing?”

  “Hey.” Emmie eased Tayla’s hand out of her hair. “Stop. Don’t start with the hair pulling again, okay?” She took her hand. “And for what it’s worth, I know Jeremy is serious about you. He’s not someone who just puts himself out there like this unless he’s serious.”

  Panic subsided and fear crept in. “Emmie, what am I going to do? My dad was right. Opportunity doesn’t come without sacrifice. So am I supposed to sacrifice my career? Or am I supposed to sacrifice Jeremy?”

  Emmie sighed. “I think—”

  “Your dad is full of shit.” Daisy grabbed the coffee she’d brought for Tayla. “You don’t always have to give up something you love to get the right opportunity. That’s zero-sum thinking and it’s lazy.”

  Tayla blinked. “Okay.” She sat up straight. “Okay. Ginger told me something the other day that might be relevant.”

  Emmie crossed her arms. “Well, this should be good.”

  “It was something along the lines of ‘If the world isn’t giving you what you want, then make the world your bitch.’”

  “Yeah, that sounds like Ginger.”

  “Okay yes,” Daisy said. “But she’s right. In a sense. Have you even tried to think what a compromise might look like? Why can’t you keep your relationship with Jeremy and also take this job in San Francisco?”

  “First,” Emmie said, “I don’t think commuting two hundred and thirty miles every day is practical. Not until transporter technology has been developed, and we all know that’s a ways off. We can’t even build high-speed rail.”

  “It’s a question of fiscal priorities, Emmie. The state of California— Wait!” Tayla shook her head. “I’m not having this discussion right now. I don’t think anyone is suggesting that I commute to San Francisco. That’s not going to happen.”

  “What about telecommuting?” Daisy said. “Lots of people do these days, and you’re talking about a company that operates in the online world. That seems like the most practical solution.”

  “Emmie and I already talked about that. It’s a great idea, but SOKA’s whole deal is that they want that personal connection. They have company dinners and communal break areas. They’re all about spontaneous collaboration. It’s hard to have spontaneous collaboration when one person lives hundreds of miles away.”