by Lex Martin
She smiles, relief on her face.
With one trembling hand, I hold the paper bag to my mouth again and take three more deep breaths before I hyperventilate and pass out. With the other, I scroll through my phone and reread the article that’s going to destroy my life.
Portland’s number one bachelor, Drew Merritt, arrested with PR executive Kendall Greer over Thanksgiving for breaking and entering—details emerging.
Gary’s article has everything—how I crawled through a window to get into the cabin, how Drew and I holed up there during the snowstorm, the larceny charges, even quotes from an anonymous source that detailed the slew of used condoms that littered the trash can at the cabin.
I crumple up the bag. “It was that bitch at the front desk. I bet she’s the one Gary quoted in his article.”
But before I can finish venting, voices in the hall have me and Tristan whipping our heads around.
“Wait here. If it’s the media, I’ll handle it,” Tristan says as he slips on his suit jacket.
A moment later, Drew’s busting into my office with a very frazzled Jessica on his heels.
“Mr. Demerit’s here!” she announces from over his shoulder.
Tristan chuckles, but I can’t find the humor in her messing up the name of my…friend? Boyfriend? Baby daddy?
The second my eyes connect with Drew, he heads straight to me. One second I’m struggling to find the words to express how frustrated I am over this whole situation, and the next I’m wrapped in his arms with my feet dangling off the floor.
Well then.
My arms respond automatically, tightening around his neck. Glorious relief swells in my chest from his mere presence.
I breathe in his scent. Shower gel, expensive cologne and fine leather. Last month, I would’ve described it as the smell of rich boy, entitlement, and bad decisions. But as quickly as that harsh assessment enters my mind, it’s brushed aside by the assertion that he’s changed.
He’s here.
“I’m sorry all this shit got out,” he whispers in my ear. “Do you trust me?”
He sets me down on the floor.
I stare up at his brilliant green eyes that shimmer with an emotion I’m not sure I’ve seen before in this man. He threads his fingers through mine and squeezes.
Do I trust Drew?
The words come without a second thought.
“I do.”
25
Kendall
Tongue-tied, I stare at the pics on my laptop. How did he…?
I clear my throat. “When did you do this?”
Drew, Tristan, and I crowd around my laptop at the conference table. Twisting around to look at Drew over my shoulder, I almost laugh at how nonchalant he seems about the whole thing when he shrugs. “After you suggested it.”
Tristan chuckles from my other side. “This was Kendall’s idea? It’s pretty brilliant.”
Drew frowns at him, his jaw ticking. “She is brilliant.”
“I can’t take credit for this.” I mean, I might’ve said something in passing, but this exceeds anything I had in mind.
“Sure you can.” Drew squeezes my arm and drops into the chair next to me. “Call that fucker and let’s see what he has to say about it. I might have a few more tricks up my sleeve in case he balks.”
Tristan dials and puts it on speakerphone. “This is what we need. A united front. Makes it harder for Gary to twist our words around.”
Like the beating wings of a bird, hope that I might be able to navigate this PR nightmare builds against my sternum.
I chew my lower lip, afraid to be too optimistic. I’ve seen the messages Jessica took—LaRoe is pissed and wants to cancel his account. Never mind that he owes our firm thousands of dollars.
No matter what happens with Gary, I might not be able to reassure Howard if he’s afraid my tainted reputation will affect his mayoral run. But this is the best shot we have of salvaging my career and everything I’ve busted my ass to build.
As the phone rings, my heart hammers so hard, I feel it in my neck. Under the table, Drew takes my hand in his large one, and my breath steadies.
Shit. What if Gary’s not in the office? It’s a little after five on a Friday evening, so it’s possible he’s already taken off.
Fortunately, the slime ball answers, and Tristan tells Gary we’re all on the conference call. Tris motions to Drew, who takes over.
“Hey, man. Did you get my email?” Drew pauses to give me a wicked smile. “The one with the new campaign photos for Detention, my T-shirt company?”
The room is silent as Gary considers Drew’s words.
I can almost fill in the asshole’s thought bubbles. It should be, What the fuck is going on right now?
Because Drew just emailed him a dozen “mugshots” of models in #phuckifino T-shirts, including photoshopped images of our actual mugshots so it appears as though we’re part of the campaign.
“Yeah,” Gary says cautiously. “I got it. And?”
“And you’re not the least bit curious about how you managed to publish mockups of my campaign and not actual arrest photos? That’s not important to you?”
“You gotta be kidding. You think for one minute anyone’s going to buy that story?”
“Well, Gary, I have one very finicky attorney who thinks your liability insurance is gonna go through the roof when I sue you for libel, so yes, I happen to think people will believe me. Especially since my campaign is blowing up on Instagram right now.”
I grab my phone and open Instagram. Drew’s hashtag #phuckifino is trending, and the models he hired have all posted their pics and are getting thousands of likes. By the minute. Whoa.
Drew laughs, and it’s not the one I’ve heard recently. It’s the one he uses when he’s around socialites and his drinking bros. “Do you actually think Kendall Greer, one of the most respected public relations executives in the city, was arrested on charges of larceny? You’re losing your touch, man. Who shopped this story? Some underpaid assistant at some shithole police station who now has enough money to pay for her kids’ Christmas presents because you paid her handsomely? I guess I’ll give you points for philanthropy, but you get an F for your reporting skills.”
Papers rustle on the other end of the line, and then it sounds muffled, like Gary covered the receiver while he yells at his minions.
When he comes back on, he sounds out of breath. “I have it on good authority you and Ms. Greer were arrested over Thanksgiving.”
My heart stops. How do you defend against something that really happened?
Drew leans back in his seat, not breaking a sweat. “Prove it.”
Oh, fuck. Please know what you’re doing, Drew.
“Those photos prove everything,” Gary argues.
“See, to me, they look like all the other pics in the campaign Kendall helped me craft. What you got were the mockups we created to make sure we got the flavor of the brand correct before we hired the models.”
Silence.
“What? You think I had time to do this photoshoot today with all of these models—half of whom live on the other side of the country—after you published your article this afternoon? Sure. That seems reasonable.” Drew chuckles. “But hey, if you need confirmation about any of this, I can send you the contact info of the police chief there who can confirm he has no record of our arrest.”
More silence on the other end of the line.
“So Gary, I’ll expect a full apology on your blog tomorrow, including the images I just sent, and we’ll overlook this little snafu, or you’ll be getting a call from my attorney bright and early on Monday. Oh, and if you want in on my parents’ New Year’s Eve bash—because I know you get year-long press passes to their events—Kendall had better come off looking like a goddamn angel, capisce? Awesome, bro. Thanks.”
The second the call disconnects, I reach over and kiss Drew like my life depends on it.
26
Kendall
When the elevator
doors open to Drew’s condo, we stumble out laughing. My hand is in his hair, his is up my skirt, and we’ve barely been able to pull our mouths off each other to get from my office to his condo.
Deep down, I realize there’s no way to know how the truth of our arrest will play in light of Drew’s demands to Gary. But the fact that Drew had this amazing plan at the ready and took over like a total PR pro today—for me, to come to my rescue—puts him in a whole new light. A really attractive light.
So even though I’m not a girl who wants a guy to rescue me, I have to admit it’s an incredible feeling to know Drew has my back.
And my booty, apparently. I snicker as his hands squeeze my cheeks.
In fact, the relief of putting Gary in his place is so intense, I would fly away were it not for Drew’s arms, which now hoist me up around his waist while he unlocks his door.
“Good thing there’s only one other condo on this floor,” he mumbles against my mouth. “Don’t wanna show off your sexy ass to the whole world. We’d have to come up with another media campaign.”
We both laugh harder as he kicks the door closed behind him and stomps over to his couch, where the world suddenly goes horizontal and all I can see is his handsome face hovering over me after a surprisingly soft landing.
Drew’s hair is disheveled, and we’re both out of breath.
His big hand travels along my hip possessively, stopping to stretch across my belly.
“I’m realizing I can’t throw you around anymore,” he says tenderly.
All of a sudden, I tense and wait for him to freak out about the baby. To tell me he isn’t ready or doesn’t want it.
But he doesn’t, just gives me this look of affection, one that warms me all over.
“No, I guess not.” I brush his hair out of his eyes as I shake off the flicker of uncertainty.
Internally, I admonish myself. I’m not sure why I default to this mode where I question Drew. He’s been nothing but a standup guy since we started…whatever this is. Today should more than assure me he’s not going to take off at the first sign of trouble.
Is that what I’m afraid of? Because Bobby bailed on me so easily, I think Drew will follow in his footsteps? Until this moment, I never realized how much my ex screwed with my head by breaking up with me so abruptly. One minute we were in sync, and the next—after he said he wanted kids as soon as possible and I threw on the brakes—he was gone. And on to the next woman who would give him a baby.
Ironic that I’m now doing the very thing that douchebag wanted but with another man.
But I don’t want to think about that anymore. Especially not when I’m with Drew and he’s looking at me like this.
Drew drags his thumb over my bottom lip. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Kendall. I don’t think I tell you that enough.”
My eyes burn as my heart jackknifes in my chest.
I’m overwhelmed all over again, but not about my ex or work. I’m overwhelmed by the guy who saved my ass today.
Drew slides between my welcoming thighs, and I palm his stubbly chin.
“Thank you for today. For having everything ready to go. For doing all this work and knowing what to say and—”
He cuts me off with a kiss, moving closer until I can feel his heartbeat against mine.
“I would do anything for you,” he whispers, trailing his lips against my jaw. My neck. The hollow of my throat.
Again with the sweet things. This guy kinda melts my heart.
He pushes onto his knees to strip off his leather jacket and kick off his shoes, then helps me sit up to shove off my coat and heels before he settles over me again.
“Is this okay?” Drew’s deep voice in my ear makes goosebumps erupt across my skin.
I nod slowly, realizing I don’t want to hold myself back with Drew. It’s not fair that he receive the fallout from my old relationship.
Except I’m wondering…
Pushing him back carefully so I can see his face, I lay it out.
“What is this, Drew? What are we doing? Are we dating?” I feel like a royal moron asking these questions because I’m having his baby, for God’s sake, but people have all kinds of arrangements these days. “I don’t want to make any assumptions. Maybe you just want to help me through the pregnancy and then go our separate ways. Or you want to co-parent and not, you know, be in a relationship.”
A pang of sadness washes through me at the thought, but I lift my chin and try to be rational about what a guy like Drew would really want. “This isn’t the 1950s. You don’t have to put a ring on it or anything. Not that I expect a ring or that kind of commitment,” I rush to add.
With a groan, I fling my arm over my face.
Way to make things weird, Kendall.
A little voice pipes up in my head. You’re having his kid. All the more reason to know where you stand.
Drew pries my arm off my face. And then I word vomit some more.
“I don’t want you to do anything because you feel obligated or guilted into something. It’s a modern day. We’re not chained to outdated mores or pressure.”
The corner of his mouth tugs up. “Are you done freaking out?”
“I don’t know. Maybe?”
His smile deepens and hope blooms in my chest.
And then he dips down to drag his lips across mine. “So are you asking me if I want to date the beautiful, talented woman who’s having my kid?” He peppers kisses along my jaw, picking up from where we were before I decided I needed some kind of clarification on our relationship. “Because that answer is yes.”
He pauses to look me in the eyes. To study my face. To smooth his hand over my hair. “Let’s see where this goes. Let’s date like we would if you weren’t pregnant.” He pauses a beat. “Well, maybe not exactly as though you weren’t pregnant.” A wicked grin spreads on his face. “I probably can’t fuck you as hard.”
Heat creeps up my face as memories of all the ways we went at it on Mount Hood invade my mind. But it’s the way he caresses my face that makes the doubt about starting a real relationship with him subside.
Drew is still on top of me, hard, thick and heavy, and my libido is pleading to shut the hell up and get to the sexy things already, but I can’t throw caution to the wind. I need to think clearly.
Sitting up, I scoot out from under him because with Drew invading my space, I’m fifty shades of horny and all I want to do is strip naked.
Taking a deep breath, I realize what I want.
Instinct has always directed the big steps in my life. Deciding to stay close to home for college. Starting a business with my buddy from college. Not wanting to settle down and have kids with my ex.
This path with Drew? This feels right. Despite all of my reservations, moving forward with him seems like the right thing to do.
“Okay. Let’s date.”
“Okay?”
I nod, liking how reasonable everything he said sounds.
“As for the baby”—he pauses to squeeze my hand—“I’m on board to co-parent if, uh…if we decide things don’t work between us.”
I give him another nod, because, again, he’s being so logical—and yet I can’t deny I’ll probably be devastated if we crash and burn. I have feelings for Drew now. Add eight more months of pregnancy, sex, and a baby, and if things end badly between us, it’ll feel like a nuclear bomb went off in my life.
When I consider how, at our very core, we’re so different, the odds are not in our favor. Drew is a recovering party animal with a penchant to love the one he’s with. I’m a wine-with-dinner girl who prefers long-term commitments over hookups.
Clearing my throat, I rip off the Band-Aid because we’d might as well let it all out now. “So does dating mean monogamy to you? Because to me it does, and I’m not sure what you’re used to in your relationships—”
“I don’t have relationships. You know that. Or at least nothing that lasts longer than the pictures the next day.”
My stomach starts
to sink, but he tugs me closer. “Don’t. I know what you’re thinking. But before you jump to conclusions, what I mean to say is that, up to this point, I’ve not been in any kind of significant relationship. And fuck yes, this means monogamy. I’m not sharing you with Chewbacca.”
When I realize he’s talking about the morning he saw me sneaking out of Lawrence’s hotel room, I laugh.
“God, that was a mistake of epic proportions.” I glance up at Drew’s handsome face, the one that looks a little pissed to be talking about another man. “But then I ran into this great guy in the elevator. And I haven’t been with anyone else since. It’s just been you.”
His eyes soften. “Just me.” He leans over me and places a feather-light kiss on my mouth. “I haven’t been with anyone either.”
“Really?” I don’t mean to sound so surprised, but I guess I’m still having a hard time reconciling the claims he made last weekend that he’s a hermit with the guy I’ve always known.
“It’s been me and my left hand and some really hot memories of this beautiful woman who wrecked me on Mount Hood.”
Aww.
“I know we’re talking about you beating off, but that’s really sweet.”
“I’m a sweet guy.” He bats his eyelashes, and I smile.
But then my lips twist, and I give him an angry stare. “Just for clarity’s sake, I’m not into sharing my man either. I will cut a bitch and the motherfucker who cheats on me if it ever comes to that.”
Whoa. Even talking about the possibility of cheating makes my blood boil. Are pregnancy hormones supposed to make me murderous? I’ve never been a particularly possessive person, but Drew brings out my crazy.
A growl rumbles in his chest as he pulls me onto his lap so I’m straddling him. “You’re fucking hot when you’re jealous, Ken.” He shoves his hand into my hair, whips my head back, and kisses me like I’m the best dessert he’s ever had. “And I may not always be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I promise I’ll be loyal.” His hands tighten on my hips.