by Layla Frost
“I had a taste for it.” Ash stormed back into the pantry and reemerged with the Cheetos, giving Freddy a wide berth so he couldn’t reach him without abandoning his risotto. “You won’t take my requests, I’m taking your Cheetos.”
“Asshole.” Freddy’s tight expression smoothed out as he looked back to me. “What would you like?”
Since it seemed like this was a one-time, rare-as-a-blue-moon thing, I considered my options carefully before deciding. “I’d love some mac and cheese.”
“Done,” Freddy said with a firm nod.
My stomach did another grumble and flip in anticipation.
“Ready to get back to the exciting world of variables?” Ash asked me.
“You and I have very different ideas of exciting,” I mumbled. I started to follow him before turning back to Freddy. “Thanks for the chocolate.”
“It’s straight from Belgium. If you like it, I’ll get more.”
My mouth watered as I returned to the table with Ash. I sat and was about to rip into the package when my stomach twisted. Only that time, it was followed by a clench that stole my breath.
Oh shit.
No, not right now.
Staying in the house, all the days had begun blurring together. I’d lost track.
“What’s wrong?” Ash asked, his snacks forgotten as he went alert.
I jolted up before things got real embarrassing, real fast. The quick movement caused another cramp to squeeze my stomach like a vise. Wrapping my arms around myself, I blinked away tears.
“Juliet.” Ash stood and held my shoulders, panicked. “Are you sick? Does something hurt?”
Yes, my uterus is rioting and tearing apart the baby nursery it spent a month making.
I shook my head. “I need Ms. Vera.”
“I can help, just tell me what’s wrong.”
Yeah, not happening.
The situation was quickly deteriorating, and my panic went into overdrive. I probably looked like my head was going to start spinning around like the girl from The Exorcist. “Send Ms. Vera to my room.”
Realization must’ve dawned because his eyes widened. “Ohhh, got it. She’ll be right up.” Moving fast, he headed through one of the mystery doors.
I hauled ass as quickly as I could while keeping my thighs pressed tight together, waddling like a penguin.
We’re at critical levels of oh-shit. Code red.
Code-fucking-red.
No longer waddling, I took off at a run and didn’t stop until I was in the bathroom.
Stripping down, my stupid hormonal tears irrationally increased when I saw my cute polka dot undies were ruined. My leggings hadn’t fared much better.
I turned the shower on as hot as I could stand before stepping under the scalding jets.
It felt glorious.
My muscles loosened as I turned my back toward the hard spray. I leaned my forehead against the wall, taking slow, deep breaths.
I’d just relaxed when someone knocked. Tension tightened my body again as I braced. “Who is it?”
“Ms. Vera. Can I come in?”
“Yes,” I called since the glass was frosted and she couldn’t see anything.
The bathroom door opened and closed. “Mr. Ash said you needed me. Is it that time?”
“Yes.”
“There are supplies in the second drawer under the sink.”
“There’s already supplies?”
“Of course. We’re women. Women bleed. Men would die from their first cramp.”
I laughed through an emotionally charge sob.
“Stay in the shower as long as you need. Where are your clothes?”
“I’ll take care of them,” I insisted. “I’ve been doing laundry since before I was tall enough to reach the buttons.”
“Where are they?”
“I can handle it.”
“Where?”
“In the hamper. But I can wash them,” I repeated.
“You relax, sweet girl.”
The door opened and closed again as Ms. Vera left me to my shower.
Aiming the showerhead lower, I sat and wrapped my arms around my bent legs, letting the water hit my back until the last of the tension eased away.
I should’ve grabbed that chocolate bar.
Maximo
As I walked into my house, I caught a brief glimpse of Juliet’s back as she raced up the stairs.
What the hell?
Passing by the dining room, I saw Juliet’s MacBook still open with papers and a calculator next to it. Along with her school stuff, there were snacks and chocolate.
Freddy.
I went into the kitchen to find Freddy dumping ingredients into the stand mixer. Ash leaned against the counter next to him, his arms and ankles crossed.
“What the hell happened?” I asked.
“You saw Juliet,” Ash surmised. “She’s good, boss, it’s just that time.”
I glanced at my watch. “What time?”
“She’s a woman.” Freddy raised his brows. “That time.”
Shit.
I was an idiot. In my defense, I’d never lived with a woman before—not counting my ma. But not in my defense, I was a fucking idiot to not take into consideration something that happened to almost half the population on a monthly basis.
“My sisters called it shark week,” Ash said. “Four older sisters, all synced. Made it easy to work out why Juliet was upset and needed Ms. Vera.” He gave Freddy a pointed look. “No wonder she was holding that chocolate bar like it was her one true love.”
“I’ll run to the store. What does she need?” I asked, feeling out of my element.
“Ms. Vera was prepared.”
“And I’m making her mac and cheese and,” he gestured to the mixer, “chocolate cake with chocolate chunks and cream cheese frosting. If carbs and chocolate don’t help, nothing will.”
Since there was nothing I could do, I was out of my element and useless—two feelings I wasn’t familiar with.
“Let me know if something changes.” I backtracked through the house, snagging the unopened chocolate on my way up to my office. I’d barely sat when someone knocked. “Come in.”
Vera opened the door. “Juliet is not feeling well.”
“Ash told me. Does she need anything?”
“She’s in the shower now. I’m going to bring her some medicine and a hot pad when she’s done.”
“I’ll do it.”
She tilted her head, and I thought she was preparing her argument. “It seems to be heavy. Painful. She should be on the pill. It helps. It would be smart to start sooner rather than when it’s needed later. Call your doctor friend to prescribe it.” Then, not giving me the chance to process what she’d said—or the heavy implication in her words—she turned, still speaking as she left. “I’ll leave the supplies in front of her door.”
I sat back in stunned silence.
That was unexpected.
After a few minutes, I got up and headed to my room to grab a pair of my sweats and a tee. At the memory of what she’d done—what I’d watched her do—the last time she’d worn my clothes, my body reacted. I tucked my dick into the waistband of my slacks, the hard length stretching up my stomach. The fabric cutting in nor the uncomfortable angle did anything to lessen my hard-on, but at least it was hidden.
I carried the clothes to her room and picked up the waiting items before unlocking the door.
The little dove didn’t even lift her head when I entered. Her eyes tracked me as I approached where she was curled on the couch, but she stayed in her ball.
“I brought you water, pain meds, a hot pad, and a change of clothes.”
Her eyes dropped to the bunched fabric. “I can’t wear those.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
I looked at her fitted PJ pants and top. “It’ll be less constricting.”
She opened her mouth then closed it. Her lids closed, too, her cheeks flushing.
“I don’t give a d
amn if you leak on them. It happens.” Her eyes shot open but I kept going. “And Vera can get anything clean.”
And she’s got experience with blood stains.
A small tear dripped from her eye. She swiped at it as she sat up and grabbed the clothes. “Thanks.”
The loose comfort must’ve been needed because she didn’t wait until I left before closing herself in her bedroom. She returned a minute later, wearing my clothes. They were huge on her, but that was the point.
I waited until she took the pain pills before passing her the heating pad and plugging it in.
She pressed it to her stomach and curled around it. “Thanks.”
I reached into my pocket and pulled out Freddy’s Belgium chocolate.
Her pretty green eyes went huge and she licked her lips.
Jesus.
Before my tenuous control snapped, I handed her the chocolate and got the fuck out of there.
I need to stay the hell away from her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The One with The Time Jumps
Juliet
Three Weeks Later
I WAS BORED.
Beyond bored.
So bored, I was voluntarily working ahead on my schoolwork. Sitting on my bed with my computer, I flipped through my remaining assignments and sighed when I realized I couldn’t do anything else yet. I closed it and got onto my knees, moving the curtain aside to look out the window.
Still raining.
Damn.
I walked into the sitting room and knocked on the door.
Cole opened it. “What’s up?”
“I’m bored.”
“Want Ash to give you more math?”
“God, noooo,” I drawled dramatically. “I said I’m bored not that I want to be so bored, I’ll die.”
He half-smiled. “What do you want?”
“To do something. I feel all fidgety.”
“It’s still raining.” Holding the door with his body, he gestured out. “Want to walk around the house?”
Surprisingly, I didn’t.
With the exception of some off-limit areas, I’d already been around the house a bunch. Gorgeous room after gorgeous room had been exciting the first few times, but the appeal had faded fast.
I preferred my area to the rest of the house. It was the first time in my life I had my own space—even if temporarily.
Sometimes, late at night when dark thoughts took root and wove through my brain, I wondered if they were even keeping me locked in anymore.
Or if I was doing it to myself.
“Will you show me the forbidden rooms?” I asked even though I knew the answer.
“No. Want to use the gym?”
“Yuck, definitely not.”
He chuckled. “Media room?”
I shook my head and hooked a thumb over my shoulder. “I’ve got movies here.”
“Yeah, but not the big screen with recliners and popcorn.”
“Still not active enough.”
“You’ve gotta give me a little more to go on.”
“I want to… I dunno. Draw. Knit. Mess with clay. Hell, I’d try macramé and I don’t even know what that is. I just want to do something.”
He didn’t make fun of me or roll his eyes that I was asking a big badass to procure arts and crafts supplies. “I’ll see what I can do.”
The door closed and, since desperate times called for desperate measures, I grabbed my iPad and played some of the math games Mr. Reed had recommended.
Nothing about math was fun and games, but at least it took my mind off my boredom for a while.
Or, like, fifteen minutes.
I switched to iBooks, but nothing grabbed me, so I turned on the TV and flipped channels.
When I was sitting on the couch with my legs up the back and my head hanging upside down off the cushion, the door opened again.
“You really are bored,” Cole said, setting two loaded plastic bags against the wall.
In my excitement, I sat up so fast, my head swam. “I just do it for the sweet, sweet headrush.”
“Man, if you think that’s a headrush, wait until you try tequila.”
“Is that an offer of a shot or ten? Extra lime and salt, please,” I joked.
“No thanks, I don’t feel like getting shot today.”
“Huh?”
“He doesn’t even like you having caffeine. If I gave you liquor, he’d shoot my kneecaps.” He bent and extended his leg. “And I like my kneecaps.”
“I thought Ms. Vera was the one limiting my caffeine.”
Not only did Cole not respond, he avoided looking at me.
Ah, just like old times.
I got the feeling sharing any info was a big no-no. Taking pity on him—and not wanting to return to being ignored—I let it go. “I bet I’m more of a piña colada gal anyway.”
He still didn’t speak, but he did shoot me a half-smile. Holding the door with one foot, he reached into the hall for more bags.
Can’t they do anything half-assed?
I flung my hand toward the purchases. “I just wanted a thing of yarn or some colored pencils or something. I didn’t need all this.”
He shrugged. “Now you’ve got options. Yell if you need anything else.”
What else could I possibly need?
When he left, I pulled everything out and lined it up, hoping inspiration would strike. There were a dozen yarn bundles of different textures and colors, knitting needles, and some hooky thingies of various sizes, plus a couple adult coloring books with colored pencils and gel pens.
Going for the yarn, I grabbed the brightest color and two of the needles before loading a beginner tutorial on YouTube. I discovered how much fun it was to create.
I also discovered how incredibly, horribly, horrendously unskilled I was.
Still fun, though.
_______________
Two Weeks Later
Geared up in a pretty pink halter bikini, my flip-flops, a ton of sunblock, and a floppy hat, I hefted my tote up my shoulder.
Since my period was finally done, it was time to hit the pool. To be fair, thanks to Ms. Vera’s recommendation I start the pill, it had been the best—or maybe least bad—one I’d ever had. However, I’d still spent nearly a week on the couch with the heating pad.
I was ready to swim until my muscles ached before sitting in the hot tub until I turned to goo.
I knocked on my door and backed up.
“Yeah?” Marco called from the hallway.
“Swim time!”
“Okay,” he said, but the door remained closed.
I waited a couple seconds longer before asking, “Can you open the door?”
“Open it yourself.”
Shit, what’d I do to piss him off?
Marco may not have been as friendly as Cole or Ash, but it’d been a while since he’d been a jerk to me.
“Please, can you open the door?” I tried.
“Open it yourself,” he repeated.
“I’m just trying to go swimming.”
“Juliet.” And that’s when I heard it—a hint of amusement. “Open it yourself.”
My heart kicked into overdrive, hammering in my chest.
I’d already lost the men tailing me like prison guards. They weren’t even stationed outside my door. I was on my own, free to go anywhere but the off-limit rooms. But in order to take advantage of that freedom, I first needed to be let out.
Permanently unlocking my door would be major.
My breath froze in my lungs as I reached for the handle. It whooshed out in a weird squeal when I easily pulled the door open.
Marco was standing outside my door. “Took you long enough.”
“It’s unlocked now?”
He lifted his chin.
“Like, from now on?” I asked.
“Don’t fuck it up.”
I watched him storm down the hall, put his thumb to a lock, and head into the room.
He’s all bark and…
okay, he’s probably all bite, too. But it’s not aimed at me anymore, so whatever.
Hiking my tote up my arm, I hightailed it to the pool and hot tub.
I was total goo by the time I returned to my unlocked room.
Maximo
Three Weeks Later
“Get this area cleaned up.”
“Yes, sir.”
Walking slowly through the kitchen at Moonlight’s buffet, I checked every corner and crevice. My chefs and staff didn’t mind the health department’s inspection, but they loathed mine. I was a hardass when it came to cleanliness, order, and image.
Heading out of the restaurant, I knew the other kitchens would be spotless by the time I made it to them. Whoever I hit first tipped the rest off. I didn’t give a damn so long as the job was done.
“Maximo.” Serrano jogged over to catch up to me. “How bad was it?”
“Some clutter and spills. Not bad.”
“Did you put the fear of God in them anyway?”
“No, I put the fear of me in them.”
He chuckled. “How’re things for Friday?”
“Georgie says it’s going smooth,” I said, referring to Star’s Tournament Director. “Rooms are ready, tables will be set up Thursday night, kitchen and bar orders have been adjusted for the influx. Registration is already full.”
The poker tournaments tended to be easy. A few bickering fights, a few accusations of cheating, and a few small-town big shots who thought they deserved the VIP treatment. Other than that, people played cards, collected their winnings, and then hit up the tables and slots for the fun of gambling rather than the competition.
My cell vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out to see a text from Cole.
Cole: She wants a keyboard. A musical one, not the computer kind, so I’m no help.
I couldn’t hold back the small smile that tipped my lips.
Juliet liked to create.
She’d crocheted—badly, according to the men. Her knitting had been even worse. Coloring books had been a mild success, though the bar had been set low.
Despite her lack of ability, she had fun. Which meant I’d give her whatever the hell she wanted.
Me: Then get her one.
Cole: Given her track record, I’m getting the kind that hooks to her headphones. Because if she’s badly bopping some Backstreet Boys shit, I’m off guard duty.
Me: Unless she’s time traveling back to the late nineties, I think you’re safe.