I roll over and check the clock. Not even six-thirty. Fucking hell.
My room is still completely dark because of the blackout shades, but unless I get up and shut the door, the noise is going to keep me awake. I shove my head under the pillow and try to block it out, but a few seconds later I hear something shatter on the tile floor, followed by the sound of someone bursting into tears.
I jump out of bed and race down the hall to the kitchen, where Ruby, still in her nightgown, is standing over the remains of a glass, and Morgan is sitting at the counter eating a slice of cold pizza. She’s also drinking a can of Coke.
“Ruby, sweetie, it’s okay.” I kneel down, careful to avoid the shards. “I don’t care about the broken glass. We can clean it up.”
She cries harder, tears streaming down her face. I pick her up and set her on the counter, then look around the kitchen. Do I own a broom? If so, where would it be?
“Uncle Ian, your hair is funny.” Morgan is grinning at me.
I run a hand through it. “Thanks.”
“What are you looking for?”
“A broom.” I go over to the pantry and look inside. No luck.
“I’ll find it.” She hops off the stool and comes hurrying around the counter.
“Wait, Morgan, don’t step on the—”
“Ouch!” Morgan picks up one foot and looks at the bottom of it. A piece of glass has sliced her arch, and she begins to cry as blood trickles from the wound.
Oh, Jesus. Okay, make a plan. Blood first, then clean up the glass. I know where the Band-Aids are, right? I open the drawer I thought they were in, but don’t see them. Dammit!
“Okay, Morgan, just stay right there,” I tell her, opening every drawer in the kitchen. “Don’t move, I don’t want you to step on any more glass.” Fuck me, why didn’t I keep Band-Aids somewhere more handy? Meanwhile, Ruby is still howling away on the counter.
In the middle of all this, the doorbell rings.
What the hell? At six o’clock in the morning? What sane person is up at this hour? Sidestepping the glass, I hurry to the door and look through the peephole.
Of course. London. I look down at my naked chest, pajama pants, and bare feet. I know my hair is a mess. In the kitchen, I’ve got two crying girls, one broken glass, one bloody foot, and a breakfast of pizza and Coke. I am not exactly winning the morning.
Oh, well. I open the door.
“Good morning, sunshine,” I say as I look at her. She’s completely ready for a day of work. The sun blinds me from behind her and the sound of the kids still screaming from the kitchen stops her from saying anything.
“What the hell?” London asks as she pushes her way through the front door and rushes into the kitchen.
Well, there goes any shred of hope that I don’t look like a total fucking loser. I couldn’t even last one night.
“Come on in.” I close the door behind her.
“Ian!”
At least I’m consistent at disappointing her. I walk to the kitchen where she has Ruby in her arms and is looking at Morgan’s foot.
“I swear, this isn’t what it looks like,” I try.
She shoots me a glaring look and I shrug. “Can you please get the first aid kit?” London’s lips barely move as she asks through gritted teeth.
I don’t say anything about her looking like a wooden dummy—she might throw one of the shards at my head, and she was all-state in softball.
The kit is not in the obvious places like the kitchen or master bath. Where the fuck is it? I head into the guest bathroom and find it in the first drawer.
Score!
“Found it!” I yell like the hero I am and hustle down the stairs. “I found it!”
London rolls her eyes. “Good job. I got the glass out, you need to clean it and put a Band-Aid on.”
I walk over to Morgan and restrain myself from flicking her in the nose. “I told you not to move.”
Her arm moves across her nose and she sniffs. “You looked pissed that you couldn’t find the broom. I was helping.”
“I appreciate that, but next time listen.” I wipe the tear with my thumb. “What were you doing down here so early anyway?”
“We were hungry. We have to eat.”
“Before the sun is up?”
London huffs. “I know you’re part vampire, but you have kids now, and they eat breakfast by seven. Maybe I should’ve brought the schedule over last night.”
I put the bandage on Morgan’s foot and help her down. “I would say so since we’ve had a fucking shitshow of a morning.”
“Ian,” she scolds as she lifts Ruby in her arms. “You’re going to have to watch your mouth around them.”
Yeah, that’s going to be an issue.
I own a fucking nightclub. It’s sex, drinking, and cursing.
“Or they need to learn not to repeat me.”
She gives me a pointed stare. “Or you can be the adult here and act like the shining example Sabrina and David thought you would be to their three precious children.”
Morgan clears her throat. “I’ll take Ruby upstairs and get dressed. Sorry we broke the glass, Uncle Ian.”
“Accidents happen,” London answers.
I turn and glare at her. “Thanks, Uncle Ian.” My sarcasm is clear. I turn back to Morgan and smile. “It’s fine. I was more worried about you and Ruby. Go get your sister ready and wake your brother up in the most annoying way you can find.”
Her grin grows and she takes her sister upstairs.
“Do you really think that was a good idea?” London asks when they’re out of earshot.
“What?”
“Encouraging her to wake him up in some rude way.”
“Do you remember the fucking crazy shit you and Sabrina would do to me on the weekends?”
My parents had this ridiculous rule that we eat breakfast together on the weekends. No one could touch a piece of food until the entire house was awake. Sabrina and I took joy in waking up at six in the morning just to find the most horrendous way to get the other person up. She was a master with shaving cream and I always ended up getting it in the face. It turned into all-out wars in our house. I feel it’s only right that we pass on the tradition no matter what day of the week it is. That was part of parenting, right? Passing on traditions?
“Yes, I remember, but that doesn’t mean you should encourage them to do the same,” she scolds me.
London just loves a chance to prove she’s right. I can’t help but find ways to piss her off by using anything at my disposal to do the opposite.
“But where would the fun in that be?”
“You’re such a child,” London huffs. “I brought these over for the kids. I figured you didn’t have a chance to go to the store last night.” She reaches into her bag and takes out a box of breakfast bars.
“The food will be delivered at eleven, you know, when vampires tend to wake up,” I joke and nudge her.
“Can you please get dressed?”
I look down at my chest and grin. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
“No.”
“Really?” I taunt.
I see her pupils dilate with lust, but she tries to hide it. “You know what, why don’t you take your pants off, too? I mean, what almost-teenager doesn’t want to see their uncle half naked?”
London is like a jack-in-the-box, you wind her up and then wait for her top to blow. It’s fun and a little too easy. I know my bare chest is making her nervous by the way she keeps shifting her long legs and gripping her neck.
“Morgan has seen me in a bathing suit,” I remind her.
“Different.”
I move closer to her, keeping my eyes locked on hers. “Are you thinking about when I kissed you?”
Her lips part. “No.”
I keep walking toward her, waiting for her to stop me. “No? You don’t want me to hold you in my arms, press my lips to yours, and remind you how good we fit?” She doesn’t move and now we’re just a breath apart.
I could kiss her right now.
I could do everything I’ve wanted to.
But I won’t make a fool of myself again.
“No, I don’t.”
She’s lying, but I’ll let her have it.
“The next time I kiss you, London Parish, it’ll be because you beg me to,” I promise her.
Her breathing is labored as her breasts brush against my bare chest.
She lets out a hearty laugh, and presses her hand to my chest, pushing me back. “That won’t be happening anytime soon, but I appreciate the offer.”
Disappointment floods me, but I don’t let her see. Instead I give her a knowing grin. “Anytime, princess.”
I turn around, close my eyes, and get myself back to the cocky prick she expects.
Eight
London
“Holy fuck!” I say as I slump against the wheel of my car.
We were so close to doing something stupid again. Why am I such a dumbass lately? It’s like this box has been opened and we don’t know how to close it. It needs to be sealed shut and buried, with no hopes of being found again.
I sit up, looking at the house, and promise myself this stops here.
My job requires my full attention from this moment on. No more thoughts of kisses, abs that look more painted-on then real, or the feel of his fingers on my skin. Nope. It’s all in the past. I’m back to being badass London Parish, kicker of all other analyst asses. Today I close a major deal because my career is riding on it.
I make a good living, but it’s because I get the contracts signed, perform above their hopes, and get a referral from each one. I don’t have time for Ian and whatever feelings I’ve buried getting resurrected. And of all the days, today is the one I need to be on my game.
Thankfully, my day is so insanely busy I don’t have a moment to think about my personal life. Between checking everything I’d already prepared, checking it again, and then not throwing up in my meeting, my mind has been laser focused.
And I killed it.
I was better than ever before.
“Great job, London,” my boss says as he sits in my office. “You really impressed him.”
I had a meeting with the owner of the biggest casino chain in Las Vegas, and it went fantastic. He was funny, insightful, and needed me to go over some numbers that weren’t adding up. It was a great opportunity, and the fact that he even knew of our firm is amazing in and of itself.
I smile. “Thanks, it felt good. I’m sending the contracts over to him tomorrow.”
Casey gets to his feet and puts out his hand. “Way to seal the deal. Congrats again.”
“I’m glad it worked out,” I say, giving him a firm handshake.
“We didn’t doubt it would, that’s why you got this pitch.” He smiles and then walks out.
I grab my phone and start typing to Sabrina, letting her know how amazing today was.
* * *
Me: OMG! I think I got the account I was going for! I’m so happy! Thank you for the tip about writing up the pitch on his yearly savings instead of quarterly. The bigger number definitely swayed him. You’re the best.
* * *
And then I stare at the text.
I didn’t think.
I didn’t remember.
She’ll never get the text.
My finger hovers over the send button, and then I backspace over every letter as the tears stream down my face.
I open the photo album on my phone and look at the last picture we took together. We were at Ian’s pool when he was at work. He had no idea we were there until Sabrina set off the alarm and we ran back to my house, dripping wet, and laughing the entire time. We’re standing on my deck, with the pool behind us, with our hands over our lips.
Not wanting Ian to know, I made her send me the photo and then delete it from her phone. She would’ve sent it to him because she loved making him crazy by ignoring his wishes. I also didn’t want to have any reason to interact with Ian unless absolutely necessary.
But suddenly I have the urge to send him the pic, to let him know I had gotten away with something at his expense.
* * *
Me: I thought you might want to see what happened a few weeks ago when the cops had to go to your house.
Ian: You think I didn’t know it was you two?
* * *
I smile, knowing he had no clue.
* * *
Me: Please, you didn’t know!
Ian: <3 photos attached>
* * *
There’s a photo of me and Sabrina in the pool, one of us running off the deck with our clothes in our arms, and the last one is of me staring right at his security camera with a huge grin.
I burst out laughing, wiping away the sad tears that were there just a moment ago.
* * *
Me: You knew!
Ian: I know everything.
Me: Let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves.
Ian: I let you keep your secrets, but you two idiots cost me $400 in a false alarm fee from the city.
* * *
I laugh again, thinking how Sabrina would taunt him about how if he didn’t have such a cool house, we wouldn’t break in. Or how if he gave her a key and didn’t change the codes once a week, then all of it would’ve been avoided.
* * *
Me: I should get back to work. I’ll see you later.
Ian: Thanks for sending me that photo. I’m happy to see your faces that way instead of the criminals you both are as you sneak off my deck.
* * *
I turn the phone to selfie mode and make a kissy face.
* * *
Me: Instead of the customary one of me flipping you off, I thought this would be a nice change.
* * *
I have no idea why I did that, but it feels nice to talk to Ian and have it not end up in some argument. Maybe we can be friends.
Maybe we can find some sort of relationship where we’re not clawing each other’s eyes out or ripping each other’s clothes off. That would be nice considering we’re going to be around each other a lot.
Maybe.
“What time will you be home?” I ask as Ian stands in front of the mirror in his bedroom, looking unbelievably hot.
He’s wearing a navy suit, brown shoes, and a light blue shirt with the top two buttons open. Seriously, I’m glad I’m usually watching CSI by the time he leaves for work or I’d probably be like a dog staring out the window each day just to catch a glimpse of him.
“Usually I’m home by four,” he says as he fixes a piece of stray hair.
“Four?” I scream. “In the morning?”
He looks over as though I’m a total idiot. “What did you think?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Like maybe midnight?”
Ian tosses his head back and laughs. “Are you kidding?”
“I don’t exactly go clubbing, Ian.”
“The club doesn’t get busy until midnight. I’ll be here before you have to leave for work,” he assures me.
That’s not the problem. “That’s great, but where the hell am I supposed to sleep?”
He looks perplexed for a moment and then shrugs. “You can sleep in my bed.”
No.
No fucking way.
“Not happening.”
“Well, all the guest rooms are now the kids’ bedrooms. You’re welcome to the couch, but five nights a week that’s going to get a little old, don’t you think?”
My life has gone to complete shit thanks to him. I have a beautiful home that I bought all on my own. It has three bedrooms, a huge four-poster king-size bed that is clean and untarnished by bodily fluids. I can’t sleep in his bed.
I can’t lay in the place that is all . . . him.
“There has to be another option. I really don’t want chlamydia or whatever else is on that mattress.”
Ian chuckles. “Just think, it’ll be the closest you’ve been to having sex
in a long time.”
“You’re such a pig. I could have sex if I wanted! There’s no shortage of offers,” I tell him.
“Your vibrator doesn’t count.”
I slap his arm. “Stop it. I’m serious. If I’m going to be helping you, I need somewhere to sleep.”
He sighs and grips the back of his neck. “Look, I’m doing the best I can, but creating a bedroom for you is not on my very long list. This afternoon I ended up taking Ruby to basketball and Morgan to dance. Christopher’s friend thankfully saw him after school and took him to practice.”
I open my mouth and shake my head. “You fucked that all up, huh?”
“Yup.”
There’s no denying that he’s trying, but . . . I’m not sleeping in his bed.
Ian walks over, lifts his hand, and drops it before it touches me. “No one has been in my bed since Sabrina’s death, it’s clean. My housekeeper came today, and she’s coming three times a week now. You don’t have to worry about that, okay? If you want to sleep on the couch, that’s fine, but my bed is there if you change your mind.”
My stomach clenches as I think about the last time we were in the same bed. It didn’t end well.
We made promises.
We made love.
I learned heartache.
“I’ll think about it,” I tell him as I look away.
“You okay?” he asks.
I turn back, my mask back in place. “I’m fine. You should get going.”
We walk down the hall to where Ruby is still working on her dinner, and he kisses the top of her head. “Be a good girl for Aunt London. I’ll see you in the morning, preferably after six if you can manage that.”
Ruby smiles at him. “Bye, Uncle Ian!”
My heart sputters at the fact that she just talked to him. Please let this mean this beautiful little girl is going to heal a little.
His eyes go wide and he smiles. “Bye, Ruby. I love you.”
Hold You Close Page 8