by Marie James
Out of sheer desperation, I look toward his bedroom window, as if scaling down the wall to avoid the walk of shame is an option.
“Jesus,” I grumble to myself. “Get your shit together and own up to what happened.”
With any luck, the trek back to the clubhouse will be easy and quiet. Hopefully, it’s early enough that Cannon is the only one lurking around, but with as much noise as he’s making, it won’t stay that way for long. It sounds like someone’s rearranging furniture down there, and it’s loud enough to wake the damn dead.
I leave my shoes off as I open the door and poke my head out, trying to assess the situation, but I already know I’m not going to get out of here without making contact with at least one person. The door leading back to the clubhouse is on the far side of the kitchen, and I can tell whoever is downstairs is in that very same room.
“Fuck,” I hiss under my breath and slowly walk down the stairs.
The perfect scent of coffee fills my nose, but as I arrow toward the door, I don’t give in to the temptation to look over my shoulder. Maybe whoever is there has their back to me, and I can slip right out without being noticed.
“Hey.”
“Fuck,” I mutter again, stopping in my tracks and turning around.
Cannon stands on the far side of the room, a full pot of coffee in one hand and a ceramic mug in the other.
“Sneaking out?” Mirth fires in his eyes, and I can tell with one look he wouldn’t be upset if I did. Somehow, that makes this all better.
There aren’t feelings involved—not unless you count the throb between my legs. I’m definitely feeling that right now.
“I was—”
“Sneaking out,” he interrupts.
He grins, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling myself.
“Coffee?” He holds up both the pot and the mug in offering.
I don’t even pretend to think about it. “Coffee would be great.”
I drop my boots near the door, and cross the room to him, accepting the cup he offers with a thanks before leaning against the counter while he pours himself a cup.
“Seems a little out of season.” I nod toward his shirt.
He looks down at the Santa head on the t-shirt. I DO IT FOR THE HO’S right under St. Nick’s smiling face.
“Sleep shirt,” he says as he scoops sugar into his coffee.
Last night at the bar wasn’t weird. The meal and drive home weren’t awkward either, but after last night and our sexual battle of wills, I’m standing here a little uncertain this morning.
Keeping my eyes down, focused on my cup of coffee, I wait for him to speak.
I needed the caffeine, but I don’t need the tension that’s brewing with the unknown. I don’t know how to act or what to say.
“How old are you?”
I grin before looking up at him. Small talk I can handle.
“Twenty-three. What’s your focus in school?”
“Business.”
My eyebrows shoot up.
“What?”
“I didn’t expect you to have such a serious career path.”
“I’m not always joking around.”
No joke. Last night was no joking matter.
I clear my throat to stop my impromptu trip down memory lane, but the sparkle in his eyes and the twitch in his upper lip tells me he already knows where my head wanted to go.
Thankfully, he doesn’t bring it up.
“So Marine Corps for four years?” I nod. “Why not longer?”
“It wasn’t the right fit for me.”
“There are a lot of the guys who discharged because of the same thing. It’s almost like the Corps kept them from moving forward—like they were too good, too skilled and staying enlisted only held them back.”
“I don’t know about the others, but I’ve never thought I was too good for the Corps. There’s just a lot of shit I had to put up with and it wasn’t worth staying in.”
Cannon places his coffee cup on the counter and inches closer to me. I hold my ground, but I don’t know if I want him to get closer or if I should take a step back and demand some distance.
“I don’t have a clue what it would be like in the military, so I’m not even going to pretend I understand, but I know the Cerberus guys are happy you’re a part of the group. Maybe it worked out exactly how it was supposed to.”
“I can agree with that.” I lift my coffee to my mouth and take a sip. “How long do you have left in school?”
Any conversation that isn’t about me is a good thing.
“Just one more year left.”
He doesn’t expand on the topic, and it leaves us just staring at each other.
The awkward morning-after tension changes, transitions into something with a little more fire, and my body begins to wake up again.
“Cannon,” I whisper because I’m freaking out about what we’ve done, what it may possibly mean, and the repercussions of our actions.
“Don’t think,” he responds. “Just feel.”
His strong hand cups my face, and he begins to lower his mouth to mine, and so help me, I’m going to let him kiss me. I don’t do it often. Keeping distance this way is the only thing I can think of to put a stop to the emotions that kissing brings. It’s a level of intimacy I avoid at all costs.
I kissed Bishop in Bahrain, but I was drunk and just about everything sounded like a great idea that night.
Before his lips can meet mine, the door leading outside opens. I jerk back, putting space between us, but when Misty looks over, it’s clear she knew what was happening. My pulse begins to thrum for a whole new reason because seconds behind his wife, Shadow steps into the kitchen.
“Hey, guys,” Cannon says casually like it’s an everyday occurrence for a woman to be in his house this early. “Did you have a fun time?”
My boots are lying haphazardly near the back door, and they don’t go unnoticed by my boss.
Misty frowns at her son. Shadow doesn’t pull his eyes from mine, and it’s impossible to look away even though my cheeks are heating with the fire of a thousand suns.
“Cannon,” Misty begins, “why don’t you go get the rest of the bags out of the car.”
He squeezes my hand before he walks out, and that action draws Shadow’s attention. If he had any doubts about what happened last night, he doesn’t any longer.
I clench my jaw, my teeth grinding together to keep from kicking Cannon in his perfectly muscular ass as he leaves the kitchen.
Misty shuffles out of the room, leaving me standing there holding a cup of lukewarm coffee, and knowing I’m seconds away from getting fired.
Holding my head up high, I turn and place the cup in the sink.
“Shadow, listen. I’m sor—”
He holds his hand up, effectively silencing me.
“You’re both adults, and I can’t control what you do or who you do it with, but this is my home. I need you to respect that.”
“Yes, sir.” I hold my head in shame until I sense him moving away from the door. The second it’s clear I rush forward, scoop up my boots, and shoot out the door like my ass is on fire.
He wasn’t angry or condescending, but that still doesn’t keep me from feeling shame all the way back to my room.
Most men don’t want to work with women in the field because they’re a distraction, a temptation on every level. I fought in the Corps to make sure the guys around me knew I was just like them—a soldier willing to do her part. I wanted the same thing with Cerberus, and yet I’ve let my hormones and the stupid goofy grin of a handsome man prove every guy’s point about women in a man’s world.
I’ve fucked up twice already. It may be too late to prove myself, but I’m going to try my best.
Now all I have to do is come up with a plan to avoid Cannon.
Chapter 22
Cannon
“You know the rules about no girls in the house.”
I scrub the already clean bar to
p, agitated with the conversation on constant replay in my head.
Dad was not happy after Rivet left yesterday morning. Mom wouldn’t even look at me. They’re both disappointed, and for some reason that bothers me more than I ever thought it would.
“I’m her boss, Cannon. There has to be boundaries.”
Dad never flat out said to stop whatever was going on between us, but Rivet was gone by the time I made it back to the house with the bags from the car. That means that he spoke to her, too. When I went to search for her, she was already gone on a solo bike ride. She wasn’t back by the time I went to bed, and even though her bike was in the lot when I left for work this morning, I knew bothering her would only cause more issues.
“Been busy?” Simone grins at me when I turn to look in her direction.
“Slow as hell,” I respond.
“I’m drinking as fast as I can,” Mike mumbles from his bar stool.
Simone and I laugh. I don’t even know how Mike is still alive. He drinks too much to have any amount of viable liver left.
“Only a half shift for you today?” Simone asks as she lifts the cooler door to make sure everything is stocked.
“Yeah. I’m helping Lawson and Delilah move into their new apartment today and helping Griffin and Ivy tomorrow.”
I turn away from her, not wanting to reveal how I truly feel. After yesterday, I know exactly why they want to get out of their parents’ houses. I’d bolt, too, but renting an apartment when I’ll be heading back to school in a few months is ridiculous.
“Really? It’s hot as hell outside.”
“They don’t want to wait.” I shrug before flipping the bar towel over my shoulder. “The heat doesn’t really bother me, anyway.”
“Well, go ahead and get out of here. No sense in both of us staring at Mike while he drinks himself into an early grave.”
Mike huffs but he doesn’t take his eyes off of the television. ESPN will have all of his focus until one of his drinking buddies shows up.
With a quick salute to Simone, I head to the employee lounge, grab my helmet, and head outside. The warmth of the sun beats down on my way back to the clubhouse, but all I do is park my bike and jump in my truck. Several of the guys, including Rivet, are out front shooting the shit, so I know now isn’t the time to have any sort of conversation with her. She doesn’t even look up at me, and when I’m pulling away, I watch her keep her head down in my rearview mirror.
The gang is already at the storage unit when I arrive. Ivy is fanning herself while Griffin and Lawson talk about logistics at the back of the U-Haul truck.
“You know,” I say as soon as I walk up, “you could’ve not put this shit in storage if you knew you were going to be moving so quickly. It would’ve saved us from having to pack and unpack twice.”
Griffin glares at me. “And rent a U-Haul for weeks and just let it sit?”
I shrug. “Whatever. Let’s do this.”
“They said they wouldn’t charge us for an extra day if we can get the truck back by noon tomorrow,” Delilah says as she walks up. She doesn’t miss a beat stepping into her husband’s arms.
Shit, it’s too hot for that mess right now. I swipe my arm over my forehead and squint at my brother. “We just going to knock it all out tonight?”
“Might as well. We both got ground units side-by-side, so that makes it easier.”
“We don’t have much stuff,” Delilah says as she peers into the stuffed storage room. “We have a couch on order and a bedroom suite for the spare room.”
“And by bedroom suite, do you mean crib and changing table?” Ivy asks with a grin.
For fuck’s sake. Here we go again. Maybe I’m not as grown up as I’d like to think. If planning for children and shit is what is required, count me out.
“Just a day bed for now,” Delilah clarifies. “We don’t want to jinx anything.”
Ivy nods in understanding.
As Lawson and Delilah turn to strategize over what needs to be packed first, Griffin turns to me.
“Talked to Dad yesterday.”
I just slow blink at him.
“He told me about finding Rivet in the kitchen first thing yesterday morning.”
“What?” Of course he would say it loud enough for everyone to hear.
I cut my eyes to Ivy, but I don’t say a word.
“No way,” Lawson says as he narrows his eyes at me.
All focus on moving is now gone, and I’m center stage. Cue the interrogation. Some days I hate how nosy these people are.
“Really?” Delilah squeaks, shock apparent on her face.
“I’m surprised you haven’t been bragging.” Griffin isn’t grinning at me. He’s watching me intently, assessing my response.
“I’m not talking about her with you people,” I mutter, hoping that’ll be the end of it. “We have too much stuff to get done today.”
“Oh shit,” Lawson sputters.
“Right!” Griffin snaps, his head bobbing up and down like I asked a question and he’s answering me. His smile is wide, matching the one Lawson can’t seem to wipe from his stupid face.
Both girls giggle, but they don’t do much else to explain something I’m clearly not understanding. It’s like they’re all speaking a foreign language, and I’m the only one who can’t interpret the meanings.
“What?” I hiss.
Lawson and Griffin smile even wider.
“You’ll see,” they say at the same time as if the choreographed their response.
After a few more seconds of staring at me like I’m getting ready to do a magic trick, they relent and we’re able to get to work. We packed everything strategically back in Rhode Island for the move back home, but we weren’t as diligent when it was time to unload the U-Haul into the storage room. Things are stacked wonky, and even though Delilah was planning to load the U-Haul to make things easier at the apartment, it just wasn’t feasible.
“I really wanted to load it in reverse, so the stuff for the farthest rooms were loaded last.”
“It’s fine,” her husband assures her, brushing a quick kiss to her lips in reassurance. “We’ll manage.”
“How did you end up with so much stuff?” I grumble as I carry a bedside table onto the back of the truck.
“We both had apartments,” Ivy answers, also struggling under the weight of a cardboard box marked KITCHEN. “If we stayed in the dorm, we could’ve done this without help.”
Maybe getting an apartment in San Diego is exactly what I need, but that would mean moving out of the frat house.
“Where’s Samson?” I ask, already overheated from the stifling air in the truck.
“Job interview,” Griffin grunts as he and Lawson each take the end of a massive dresser.
“Did you not unpack this, babe?”
“You told me not to,” Delilah says. “You said and I quote ‘Don’t waste your time with that. I’d rather get you naked.’”
“Oh yeah. I remember now.” Lawson grins from ear to ear as Griffin huffs.
The girls wink at each other, and I wonder if this is what I’ve been missing. I never once thought about spending a ton of time with a single girl. I’ve always been quick to spread the love. Egotistically, I figured more girls getting a little part of me is better than one girl hogging all of my attention, but it’s impossible to reach this level of comfort with a chick you just visit on occasion.
“Think we can fit both storage rooms in one load?” I ask as the guys situate the dresser to the far side of the truck.
Griffin groans as he stretches his back, looking around to assess the amount of room left. “Not all of it, but a good chunk, I think.”
“Okay,” I head back to grab another box. “Who’s buying beers after this?”
“I am.” Ivy bites her lip before speaking again. “But only if you help unpack.”
I shake my head, a smile teasing my lips. “I knew you were going to say something like that.”
“Beer is always
better when you’re drinking it with family,” Delilah adds.
“So both apartments now? How did I get caught up in this?”
Griffin claps me on the back after I stack the box in my arms on top of another one. “You just like helping out.”
“I’m going to remember this later. Each and every one of you will owe me big time.”
They all laugh as we continue to work.
Honestly, helping doesn’t bother me. The heat is a little much. Even though I told Simone it wouldn’t bother me, hanging out by the pool and manual labor are two totally different situations.
It only takes two trips to get both couples’ things out of storage and into their respective apartments. Lawson and Delilah have more things to unpack, so we start there.
By the time the sun fades in the sky we’re full of beer, pizza, and laughs, and the apartment is damn near completely unpacked.
Chapter 23
Rivet
The glances.
The guys snickering, keeping their heads close together as they gossip like little girls on the damn playground.
This last week has been hell.
I’ve avoided my team, kept to myself, and only came out of my room during the off times. I get up early to eat breakfast before the sun rises and don’t return to the kitchen until midafternoon. Even with my planning, sometimes I end up in the same room as some of the guys. No one has asked me directly. No one mentioned getting caught in Shadow’s kitchen with his youngest son about to stick his tongue down my throat, but somehow, I can tell they know.
The only one that isn’t enjoying whatever game they’re playing is Jinx. He no longer looks at me, no longer glances my direction with heat in his eyes hoping I’ll return the sentiment.
I’d take Jinx and the salacious thoughts he can’t keep off his face over the immaturity that seems to be running rampant through the clubhouse right now.
A week was a couple of days too long to stay isolated in my room, so that’s how I ended up in the living room, keeping my distance from the guys but listening to them bicker about some stupid shit on television.
“What do you think, Rivet?” Grinch asks as he peers over his shoulder at me.