by BJ Harvey
On Saturday, I thought I wanted to get her out of my system. Now it’s about making sure she sticks.
I do have one errand I have to make today, and that’s with my mentor and dean of the arts faculty, Joey Blackman. Ronnie may have signed off on a statement to cover any future infraction of the non-fraternization policy, but I want to discuss the ramifications of any relationship, and also the steps I have to take to ensure there are no accusations of impropriety. I’ve never let my dick get in the way of my career, and I’m not about to start now. I’ve worked too damn hard in the past ten years to destroy my credibility.
So, no run or hike for me. I may get to go for a ride up north and take some candid scenic shots this afternoon, but first, it’s meeting Joey for breakfast and discussing my options.
I’m already waiting at the diner around the corner from the arts building when Joey walks in.
The thing that has never changed about Joseph “Joey” Blackman since the day I met him at my own college orientation is his zero-fucks-are-given style. He’s been working in academia for well over twenty years, and one look at him would have you thinking he belonged on the stage as the lead singer of a rock band: he has onyx hair that’s unkempt and in constant disarray, thick-rimmed black glasses that make him look interesting and debonair, and bright blue eyes that are constantly calculating and analyzing. Then there are the clothes: black on black on black, right down to the unlaced black motorcycle boots on his feet and the leather messenger bag slung across his chest.
I stand as he reaches the table.
“Jax, good to see you,” he says, pulling me in for a bear hug like he’s done since sophomore year. He saw potential and ran with it, taking me under his wing at the first opportunity and nurturing me ever since. When I told him I was going freelance, he never once tried to talk me out of it. Instead, he stole my portfolio and got me my first client. From there, it grew and grew, a snowball effect the likes of which I’d never anticipated, let alone ever expected to happen. Now, I have the freedom to pick and choose jobs and contracts, and—like I’m doing this semester—return to my alma mater and teach.
“Good to see you too,” I say, giving him a light-hearted slap on the back as we step apart and sit down. “I didn’t catch you during your office hours and spent yesterday preparing for my Intro class.”
“I got a little side-tracked last week.”
“Right. Woman or scenery?” I ask, one brow lifting. He throws his head back and laughs loudly. One thing Joey is known for is the freedom by which he expresses himself. His reactions are honest, his behavior transparent, his emotions as clear as day.
“Scenery this time, but it was a woman who led me there, so you’re right on both counts,” he says with a chuckle. His eyes crinkle, and he looks me up and down just as a waitress appears beside us to take our order.
Breakfast instructions given, she leaves us alone again, and it’s then I see that Joey knows exactly why I’m meeting him. There’s a glint in his eye that is a combination of amused and skeptical. I’ve never been in such a position in any professional capacity before. My personal and career lines have never even blurred, let alone been crossed.
“Tell me, how was class yesterday?” he says.
I narrow my gaze. “It was good. They all seem eager to get started next week. There were a few questions afterward about equipment and the specs needed, but otherwise, it was relatively straightforward.”
“Relatively?” he muses, not even trying to hide his enjoyment.
I roll my eyes at him, unable to stop my lips from quirking. “Yes, relatively. I had no idea Ronnie—I mean, Veronica—was going to be a student in the class.”
“She didn’t tell you?”
“It’s a complicated story.”
He looks toward the open-plan coffee-shop kitchen and the barista, who is still churning out espressos like her life depends on it, and shrugs when he returns to me. “We’ve got time.” His grin widens.
“You’re totally enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“The extra paperwork? No. Seeing you squirm? Absolutely. It takes a lot to get you squirrelly and right now, you look like you’d rather be anywhere else than here, telling your longtime friend how your dick has gotten you in trouble.”
My head jerks back, my throat going tight. “Am I? In trouble, I mean?”
“Fuck no,” he says loudly. “It’s definitely not your style. Maybe your brother Cohen, but never you. So, I’m curious as to how you ended up in a relationship with a student and did not know.”
“She didn’t tell me.”
“She kept her schooling a secret?”
I grab the back of my neck and look down in my lap as I search for the words to use. Then again, this is Joey, and he’s known me for almost half my life.
“I had been keeping my distance to preserve… family relations… and in passing, she mentioned school and giving up a big job, but it was a group conversation, and the next time we saw each other there wasn’t—”
“—wasn’t much talking going on?”
I chuckle. “You could say that.”
“Okay. I get that. Although if it was a one-night stand, then that’s probably trickier to manage, but—”
“Definitely not a one-night stand,” I near on growl.
Joey’s eyes flash with surprise. “And the female student involved?”
“I don’t think it’s a one-off thing for her either.”
“I gathered that by the signed statement in my desk drawer. Ms. Nelson was rather thorough in her explanation of the situation and insistent that there be no ramifications for you should the prior existing relationship be determined to be detrimental.”
My head jerks back at hearing that, my eyes wide as I whistle through my teeth. “I’m impressed. All she told me was that it was taken care of.”
Joey nods approvingly. “She’s definitely done that. All that needs to be discussed now is moving her out of your class and—”
“Is that necessary?” I blurt out. He frowns, opening his mouth as if to say something, then slamming it shut again. “I mean, as long as I don’t grade her work, surely she doesn’t have to change her schedule or wait until the next class is held?”
Thank God I checked the timetable before coming here today. When I saw she’d need to defer the paper until this time next year if she got kicked out of my class, there was no question in my mind that I was going in to bat for her. I’d wait another year to pursue her if that was the case. Not that I want to. Not that I think I could. But I would find a way.
Our breakfast arrives at the same time as our coffee does, the waitress apologetic as she puts our plates and cups on the table and leaves us to eat.
Joey leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest, his grin widening to a ridiculous level. “Ah, this one isn’t just a fly-by-night fling.”
“Fuck no, she’s not.”
He nods, his eyes shining with pride and what I’m reading as approval. “So how long have you been involved?”
“Technically? We’re not officially.”
His expression turns confused. “Explain?” he asks, his forehead bunched impossibly tight.
“Well, not to get too detailed, out of respect for her, but we’ve known each other for almost a year, and only acted on our feelings on Saturday.”
Joey holds up his finger, his gaze lifting toward the ceiling, his lips counting out numbers. “She submitted her statement to my office on Friday.” I nod, still surprised Ronnie preempted anything that might’ve happened between us before anything actually happened.
“I haven’t had the opportunity to discuss this situation with her in detail—”
“But you acted on your feelings without talking?” he asks, lifting a brow, his lips twitching. “That’s impressive even for you, Jax. I’ve seen you work fast before, but it always involved you talking. You could charm the pants off any available female within a ten-mile radius in your heyday.”
&n
bsp; I laugh at that before digging in to my pancakes and bacon. “Not that you can talk. Remember that trip to Miami for that fashion shoot and—”
“And,” he says, spearing me with a look, “what went on between me and those two models shall never be spoken of again. What happens on location, stays on location.” His smirk proves he’s so full of shit.
“So, about Ronnie. What can we do to ensure whatever happens between us doesn’t affect her progress?”
He studies me from over the top of his coffee cup. I match his stare, hoping he’ll see just how serious I am about this.
He sighs, shaking his head and putting his mug back on the table. Sitting up straight, he leans down to rummage in his bag before pulling out a piece of paper and holding it and a pen toward me. He leans forward on his elbows, pointing to the document in my hand.
“Complete that, agree to the conditions, and I’ll personally grade every one of her assignments. There will be no room for any accusation of impropriety or favoritism, and once she’s passed the semester—if she passes—then you two can go on to live a happy life together.” He grins wryly as he meets my eyes. “Just make sure I get an invite to the wedding.”
My eyes bug out of my head, my mouth dropping open as my chest seizes. Who fucking said anything about marriage?
“Joey, I haven’t even taken her out on a date.”
He shrugs, returning his attention to the omelet on his plate. “I have a good feeling about this one. She’s smart, she got one past you, and she’s not afraid to put herself and her future on the line for whatever may or may not happen between the two of you. That takes balls.”
He’s not wrong. Now, I’m feeling the pressure of making all that effort worth it.
Lucky for me—and Ronnie—that’s a challenge I’m more than up for, because if she’s that certain about us, then I’m damn well going to make sure I give her something to be certain about.
7
Ronnie
I’d received a text from Jax mid-afternoon while I was running on my treadmill, giving me an address for coffee. I am under no illusion that we’ll actually drink coffee, nor do I actually want to—drink coffee that is. It has only been three days since I took the bull by the horns, so to speak, and already, I am ready for another ride.
I went six months without sex and somehow, three days after having Jax, I need another fix.
However, having entered his address into my car’s GPS, what I don’t expect to pull up to is a giant Barbie-pink monstrosity that looks like a wonky castle—a wonky, seen-better-days eyesore that should be leveled instead of flipped.
I’ve been to each of the houses Jamie and his brothers have worked on so far, and none of them ever came close to being this rundown before they were renovated. I knew Jax was living in the “pink house,” as it was slated by Jamie and April, but I didn’t know it was this bad.
Putting my Prius in park, I look out my window and take a minute to try and see whatever potential the guys must’ve conjured up when they bought this place.
The trim is pink, the porch is pink, the damn door is fuchsia and the turrets—yes, it even has two freaking towers on either side—are too-much-sun-in-summer pink. It’s so bright and garish it’s giving me flashbacks of my childhood when my mom would make Gilly and I wear matching froufrou dresses to church every Sunday, the kind that would enter the building before we did.
My perusal is interrupted when my phone vibrates on the passenger seat.
Jax—Are you going to sit out there and admire Her Majesty or come inside and get a private tour?
Ronnie—I’m too scared to come any closer in case Barbie and her merry minions hold me captive and roll me in pink glitter.
Jax—Now, now, don’t besmirch the house without seeing her in all her grand, blushing beauty.
Ronnie—She’s blushing alright, with embarrassment. Barbie called, she wants her Dream House back.
Jax—Barbie is too busy getting porked by Ken. She’s moved on to a beach house in Malibu, playing happy polygamy with Ken and his transgender lover, Kendra.
Ronnie—You seem to know a lot about Barbie.
Jax—Just get your ass out of that prissy Prius and come inside.
Ronnie—If I start turning blonde and saying like in every sentence, promise you’ll take me out the back and put me out of my misery.
Jax—Veronica…
Ronnie—Yeah, yeah. I’m coming, Ken.
Jax—Fucking finally, Barbie.
Ronnie—Call me that again, and you’ll start sounding like my prissy Prius.
I grab my purse and get out of the car, locking it behind me and walking through—you guessed it—the pink picket-fence gate toward the front door. He appears just as I step onto the porch.
“Did you find the place okay?” he says with a grin.
“NASA called, said I couldn’t miss the massive pink pimple called your house.”
He throws his head back and laughs, giving me pause as my eyes take in the beautiful sight. When he moves on to a deep, rumbling chuckle, I meet his amused brown eyes.
“Come here, beautiful.” He holds out his hand for mine. As soon as my palm slides against his, he tangles our fingers, tugs on my arm, and pulls me into him. His mouth descends for a soft and sweet kiss, leaving tingles in its wake when he pulls back disappointingly quickly.
Part of me was hoping coffee was code for giving me a belated round two of mind-blowingly hot sex, but when he leads me inside, shutting the door behind us, he doesn’t pick up where he so promisingly left off. Instead, he lets go of my hand and holds out his arms.
I stare up at him, dumbfounded, not exactly sure what is going on.
“Your coat, beautiful.”
Oh… ohhhh. Gentleman Jax is in the house. I slip it off and hand it to him, watching as he opens a closet and hangs it up.
“I promise it will come out the same color it went in,” he says.
“Can you make me the same promise?”
“Depends on what you’re into.”
I quirk a brow, my lips twitching as I unsubtly run my eyes over his body. He’s wearing a pair of low-slung jeans and a plain black tee that looks like it was made to be worn by him and him alone. His hair is disheveled in his own styled way, and his jaw is covered in short stubble that is giving me so many great ideas of how I could fully enjoy its texture and friction on certain sensitive parts of my body.
“Fuck, you look sexy when you’re checking me out.”
My eyes snap back to his. “What?” I say with an awkward ‘I’ve been sprung’ laugh.
Closing the distance between us, he rests his hands on my hips, his fingers biting into my skin through my skirt. He dips his head so he’s all I can see, his hooded gaze dropping to the low V of my shirt. “When you’re turned on, your eyes get darker, and you bite your lip…” He lifts one hand to my cheek and runs his thumb over my skin to release the firm hold of my top teeth. “You give me ideas I said I wouldn’t entertain tonight.”
I jerk back at that. “Why not?” I ask without thinking, totally giving myself away.
A slow-growing smirk curves his lips. “Because we started this thing off between us with a bang—”
That makes me snort and his eyes crinkle at the sides.
“And I’d like to get to know the woman behind the fucking fantastic body, amazing smile, and smart mouth before we get back to the—”
“Banging? I’m all for that. More banging, I say.”
He lowers his mouth to mine, chuckling against my lips, which just serves to make me want him more. I melt into him, wrapping my arms around his back and pulling him in tight. Our teeth clash, our tongues tangle, and when I lift up on my toes, I run my fingers up into the back of his hair, gripping tight and deepening the kiss. His answering guttural groan is so damn sexy I near-on climax right there in the pink entryway of the very pink house.
Just as I’m thinking this ‘coffee’ is going in the right direction, Jax ends said great kiss a
nd takes a step back, unabashedly reaching down to readjust himself before grinning at me. “That’s definitely a good way to say hello,” he says, grabbing my hand and leading me through a white wooden, rather eccentric-looking doorway into a garishly blush living room.
I stop dead in my tracks, my eyes wide as I take in the pink velvet, the gold trim, the sparkling, textured white ceiling, and the collection of art on every wall that looks like it has come straight out of the 70s. “You bought this house furnished?” I squeak, unable to stop myself.
Jax shakes his head, his lips quirked. “It was take it or walk away. It was a deceased estate, so it was in all parties’ interest to have a quick close and an all-encompassing sale. That means tomorrow, it’s all hands on deck to move anything of value or worth keeping to our storage unit. Everything else is being donated to co-op shops.”
“Wow,” I whisper, lost for words. This is more than just a pink house. It’s a damn fuchsia fun land. “This could be a museum to Strawberry Shortcake or Pinkie Pie.”
“Strawberry who-now?”
My head twists Exorcist-style toward Jax, my brows bunched. “I thought you have a sister.”
“I do.”
“And did she not get a chance to watch anything other than baseball, car racing, or boobs for her entire childhood?”
He chuckles. “Well there was one TV, and she had four brothers and her father to contend with. Let’s just say her and Mom used to escape the testosterone by going next door to the Bakers, where there were two girls and a Mrs. Baker, and Ezra would come join the locker room known as our house.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “I have so much more respect for Abi and your mom now. To come out of that a well-adjusted, happy woman—”
He barks out a laugh. “Have you met my sister?”
“Well, your mom at least. Although she thinks I’m a sex addict who had to frig herself off in the middle of an engagement party because I couldn’t bear to wait another minute.”
His gaze turns so hot, I swear I’m burning up on the spot. “I don’t think you could wait any longer,” he says, taking one step toward me. “I think you had to walk away with the hope I’d follow you.” He takes another step. “And the moment I saw you…” He moves closer again. “. . . the moment I knew you wanted me…” One of his hands goes to my hip, my legs walking backward as he pushes me until my back meets the wall. Then his body is pressing into mine—every hard inch from chest to pelvis—and his mouth dipping to mine. “When I saw that you were aching for me as much as I was craving you…” My chest is heaving, my limbs trembling, my heart thundering, and my thighs are clenched tight to quell my soaked core. “When I knew this dance of ours was coming to a climax… it was a miracle I waited long enough to close the damn door before throwing you on the bed.”