But the truth was worse. Last night, sex hadn’t been to make herself happy; it had been to make him happy. She’d been afraid of him being annoyed or impatient or bored with her if she’d said no.
It was exactly what her sister had warned her about.
“Stand up to him,” Jane had said that morning at breakfast. “And if you can’t do that, avoid him.”
But I did stand up to him, she’d wanted to say, remembering the wall. I had to. There wasn’t a bed.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she’d told Jane. Sharing a house with her sister wasn’t as fun as she’d hoped, for two reasons. One, Jane was a morning person. And two, Jane was a morning person. It was like waking up to a mariachi band. Loud, energetic, determined, impossible to ignore.
“You need to ask him about what he’s thinking long-term. Watch him panic. That will make you realize what danger you’re in,” Jane had continued, freestyling the cream cheese again. She’d graduated to a tablespoon.
“I need to get to work.” Fleeing her sister and her questions, Billie had left her cereal unfinished and driven to the office early.
Now she sat behind her desk and pulled up the department’s Facebook page. Nobody coming to their Facebook page wanted stupid jokes or cat videos; they wanted to know what paperwork they needed, when they needed it, how much it cost, and who to vote for in the future to bring down the iron fist of tyranny that presently crushed them.
She began searching for a cat video.
Ask him about what he was thinking long-term? They’d only fooled around twice. He’d never asked her on a proper date, asked her where she saw herself in a few years, asked her to marry him and have a few blue-eyed, brown-haired babies and make him the happiest of men.
Her memory wasn’t very good, yet another reason she’d been such a bad student, but she’d remember if he’d asked that.
No, they were friends. Family friends, which was worse. The sex was a very recent accident that felt good. She had no standing to demand more. And asking for more…
Made her embarrassed. He didn’t want more. The best way to protect herself was to hide the growing reality that she, unfortunately, did.
“You’ve got a friend here to see you,” Doc said from the doorway. His voice held a hint of the familiar scorn it had before the peep show.
Before she could wonder about what she’d done, she saw Ian standing behind him. The blood drained out of her brain and flowed to her girl parts.
“Oh,” she said, standing up.
Ian grinned at her. “Got a minute?”
Doc’s lips screwed together so tightly she thought his face would turn inside out. “Sure she does,” he said tightly. “I’m manning the counter today.”
She didn’t like it when he used “man” as a verb, especially since working the counter was almost always her job. Shouldn’t he say he was “womaning” the counter, or at least “Billie-ing” it?
“Thanks, Doc,” she said, walking over to greet Ian and close the door to the outside office. Doc had a creepy smile on his face as he turned away.
“I hope it’s all right I came by.” Ian wore his usual T-shirt, cargo pants, and flip-flops. After glancing over his shoulder, he leaned down and brushed his lips against hers. “Have lunch with me.”
“It’s nine o’clock,” she said, inhaling his smell. Cologne, not just laundry detergent or deodorant. Very nice.
“I’ll come back.” Eyes fixed on hers, he kissed her again.
“I’m not sure—”
“The sign says the office closes at noon,” he said, quickly stroking her bottom. “I’ll see you then.”
If you can’t stand up to him, avoid him.
“Ian,” she called out.
He’d already walked away and opened the door. He turned, one dark, sexy eyebrow lifted. “Yes?” Just one word in that voice sent hot shivers down her back.
Chapter 35
Doc, as well as some of the bored, unhappy members of the public waiting for service, would hear whatever she said. She didn’t want to make a scene. “See you then.” They’d talk over lunch. Hadn’t she been hoping for a real date? He’d come over in person to ask her to lunch, and—although he hadn’t actually asked her, only told her, and he was wearing the usual casual bro-wear he always did—she wanted to be with him. Of course she did.
He stared at her silently for several aching heartbeats, then strode away.
She sat down and dug her fingers into her hair. Filled with an emotion she couldn’t pinpoint, she stood up and went out to the counter. Without asking Doc’s permission, she stood at his side and called for the next person in line. She didn’t care if Doc wanted to act like a hero; she needed to keep her mind busy.
The line had grown, and several people stood in the hall, scowling through the glass wall at the long wait ahead. With spring approaching, and with it the end of the rainy winter, a lot of people were planning renovations and additions. Doc didn’t dare send her away in front of such a growing crowd, so they worked in parallel for the rest of the morning.
Around eleven thirty, she was just rushing back from a delayed bathroom break when Doc said, not looking up from the man he was helping, “Your friend is back.”
Her gaze darted to the inside office. A dark, handsome head peeked out from behind her computer.
He was early. He wasn’t supposed to be early.
She glanced at Doc, anticipating a snide remark.
“Go ahead,” he said with a smile. “Seems like a nice guy.”
Huh. Ian had charmed him. That wasn’t too surprising; he’d certainly charmed her.
She went in and closed the door behind her. “Hi,” she said. “You’re early.”
He rose from her chair and came over to her, his gaze traveling up and down her body. “You’re beautiful.”
Her nipples puckered. Damn body, never following the plan.
“I can’t leave until noon.” She lowered her voice. “Doc is pretending to be nice, but it won’t last. I don’t want to push it.”
“I want to push it,” Ian said with a grin, reaching for her. He caught her hand and stroked her palm with his thumb.
All her anxieties about what he wanted, what she wanted, what the world wanted, faded away. His hand was so warm and strong and felt just right in hers. “Could you wait for me outside? I’ll meet you as soon as I can.”
“You’re too good for this place,” he said, his expression turning serious. “What are they paying you?”
“I’ll meet you outside. Please?”
He looked back at her desk. “Your chair isn’t very good. They should get you an ergonomic one.”
“It’s fine,” she said, reluctantly pulling her hand free. “I don’t get to sit in it much anyway.”
“Why not?”
“I work the counter.”
“Do you have those floor mats for reducing standing stress?”
“Sure, and half-naked international male fashion models come by and massage my feet every fifteen minutes.” She rolled her eyes, laughing. “This isn’t high finance, Ian, it’s the Flores Verdes permit center.”
“I don’t like it.”
“I don’t like it either, but it’s a steady job with health insurance. Not all of us have degrees from MIT and millions of bucks.”
When she laughed again, he captured her face in his hands and looked deeply into her eyes. “I’m not joking. You can do better than this.” He stroked her cheek, his voice growing tender. “And someday you will. You’re too smart not to.”
Her leg muscles turned to butter. He seemed sincere. “Thanks, Ian.”
A lopsided smile curved his lips. He ducked his head. “You’re welcome,” he said softly. His breath was warm against her temple.
And then his lips were warm against her lips. And his tongue was warm against her tongue. And there was lots of warming all over.
She heard the door open. Gasping into Ian’s mouth, she broke away and jumped back a step.
Doc was smiling. Not a nice smile, either; it reminded her of the terrifying evil cheer of the gargoyles hanging over the front entrance of city hall.
Then he tried to pull his smile into a disapproving frown, but the glee was shining in his beady little eyes. “I’m really sorry I saw this, Bill.”
Her skin crawled whenever he called her Bill. It claimed so much intimacy he didn’t deserve. “Yeah, I know how you feel,” she muttered. She put her hands on Ian’s back and gave him a push toward the door. “My friend was just leaving.”
“Was I?” Ian asked. He locked his knees, becoming as immovable as an oak tree.
“I’ll meet you outside,” she said quietly.
He looked at her over his shoulder. “Come with me.”
“I’ll meet you outside,” she repeated, more forcefully.
“Go ahead,” Doc said. “Go with him. You’re taking the rest of the day off.”
“No, that’s not necessary,” Billie said. “I’ll take my hour and—”
“It’s not a suggestion,” Doc said.
The room fell silent. She had the sudden fear Ian was going to interfere, so she shot him a hard look and shook her head slightly.
“All right. Thanks Doc.” She gave him the brightest smile she saved for the hardest, meanest members of the public. “Sorry about this. Ian won’t be coming by again.”
When Ian’s lips parted as if he was going to jump in and try to rescue her, she grabbed his arm and dug her nails into his bicep. He sucked air through his nose and snapped his jaw shut.
“It’s not that he came by. It’s…” Doc raised his eyebrows. “Well. Let’s just say I’m very disappointed.”
Give me a break. One fully clothed kiss hardly competed with hours of full-blown (so to speak) sexual intercourse.
Gritting her teeth to keep herself from telling him so, she went to her desk for her bag, kept her eyes on the floor, and hooked her arm through Ian’s on the way out.
She felt Doc’s eyes drilling into her back until they were out of sight.
“What a prick,” Ian said, snaking an arm around her waist as soon as they were outside. The sun was shining through thin, high clouds, giving the sky a metallic brightness that hurt her eyes. He nuzzled her neck, inhaling deeply. “I’ll help you find a new job.”
For some reason that infuriated her.
“You might have to.” She pushed him away and walked toward the parking lot. “Did you have to manhandle me at work? When you knew my boss hated my guts?”
“Manhandle?” he asked.
“That’s how he’ll spin it.”
“It’s not like he can do anything,” Ian said. “You saw him do much worse.”
“But I didn’t report it. And he knows that. Now I never can. Did you see how happy he was? You wouldn’t know it, but that’s as happy as he’s ever been in his life. I bet he actually came in his pants, he was so happy.”
“Judging by his previous behavior, I wouldn’t be surprised.” Ian smirked.
“This isn’t funny! I’m screwed. Totally screwed. And it’s all a joke to you. My life—” Her throat tightened. Getting angry always made her cry. It made arguments impossible to win, which was a key reason she avoided ever getting into one. She looked around for her car, saw it two rows over, and weaved through the other cars toward it, blinking hard to keep the tears from falling.
“Billie,” he said in that slightly aggrieved, slightly condescending tone that men used when they thought women were flying off the handle into estrogen-fueled Irrational Land.
Her voice was gone. Too angry to breathe, she was certainly too angry to talk. Waving him away, she took out her keys, fumbled her way into the driver’s seat of her crappy little car she still hadn’t paid off, and slammed the door. In the enclosed space, her loud breathing sounded as if zombies were on her tail.
She spared a quick glance at Ian as she started the car. He was too manly to beg her to stay and instead stood with his arms over his chest, frowning at her through the glass.
No zombie had ever looked so hot.
Fuck hot, she thought, lifting the parking brake and kicking the car into reverse. The last thing she needed was hot. She needed bland and boring, and she needed it now.
Now and forevermore.
Chapter 36
Ian was too surprised by Billie’s sudden freak-out to do anything right away. In a daze, he went to work and went through a buttload of emails he’d been ignoring, called a client, read financial reports, and held a staff meeting that told them that, for at least the next month, he would be relying on them to keep the ship afloat while he dealt with personal matters. He’d planned the meeting yesterday and had been thinking of the manual labor he’d be doing on the house. Now he wondered if he’d need the time off after all if Billie was as angry as she’d seemed.
Lorna, who’d been teasing him about Billie relentlessly, didn’t laugh today. Across the conference table, she watched him thoughtfully while she chewed the corner of her iPhone case. When the others went back to their desks, she followed him out into the hall to the stairs.
“Where you going, boss?” she asked.
“Just getting a coffee.”
“Don’t you want me to get it for you?”
He stopped, suspicious. “Excuse me?”
“I could get it for you.”
“Yes, you could, but why would you?”
“To be nice,” she said.
“Nice.”
“Don’t look like that. I’m very nice.” She adjusted her necklace, twisting the bloody-dagger pendant so that it pointed up again. “You looked like you might need some help.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets. Did he look that bad? “Thank you, but I’m fine.”
“Look, I know it’s none of my business—”
“Whenever you hear yourself say those words, stop right there.”
“It’s something with Billie, am I right?”
He shot her a warning look before turning away and walking down the stairs.
“Maybe I can help,” she said, hurrying after him.
“You can’t.”
“So it is her.”
“Lorna—”
“I could talk to her.”
He spun around. “No. You will not go anywhere near her.”
Her eyes widened. She wore pink eye shadow today, exaggerating the brightness of her green eyes. “What happened?” she asked eagerly. “Did she want to get serious too soon?”
“Do you want to get fired?”
“You know I do,” she said, “but you’re too mean to give me what I want. You make me keep working with you and all the other geeks.”
“Not anymore,” he said. “You’re fired.”
Her voice lost its mocking tone. “Wow, it’s serious.”
Scowling, he bounded down the rest of the steps, feeling like a jerk. He wouldn’t really fire her, but at least she’d worry about it for an hour or two and leave him alone. There was a coffee cart just outside the front door, and he went there with a throbbing headache, his hands clenched into fists, not knowing why he wanted to pound a hole in the wall.
Billie had thrown a fit and stormed off. Like everyone else, she’d cool off eventually and apologize, and they’d continue where they’d left off.
He shouldn’t have to apologize. Her boss was the problem, not him. There wasn’t anything wrong with a friend giving her a little peck—
Well, not a friend exactly. He didn’t know what he was.
Maybe not anything.
“Is something wrong?” The barista, Crystal, a twentysomething woman with streaks of white in her black hair, was staring at him from the other side of the cart’s counter.
He tried to wipe the scowl off his face. “Everything’s fine. Black coffee. Don’t leave room for anything else.”
“What happened?” Crystal asked. She was looking past Ian to Lorna, who’d apparently come up behind him. It was a freakishly warm February, and Lorna wore
a sundress under her leather vest.
“Woman trouble,” Lorna said.
Crystal pursed her lips, eyeing him sympathetically. “Poor baby. How about a muffin? On the house.”
“I do not want a muffin.” He turned to Lorna. “Now you’re really fired.”
“Can I have his free muffin if he doesn’t want it?” Lorna asked Crystal. “I just lost my job.”
Smiling at all the fun, happy to be included in his private misery, Crystal took about a week to choose a muffin from the case, slipped it into a bag, and handed it to Lorna. “Maybe he’ll want it later.”
“Never mind about the coffee,” he said roughly before striding down the street away from his building with no idea of where he was going.
Home. He had coffee at his place.
“Ian, Ian—” Lorna was chasing after him.
He spun around and held up a hand. “Stop. Just… stop.”
“But—”
“No. You are going to go back to the office. You’re going to leave me alone.”
She froze in place. For a split second, she looked young and vulnerable. “All right,” she said, nodding slowly. She lifted her hand to her face and began chewing on a purple fingernail. “Am I really fired?”
“Just leave me alone.”
“OK, OK.” She started to walk away. But then she punched the air and turned back. “It’s just that I care. It’s stupid, but I care.”
There had been way too many bewildering female emotions in his life today. He managed a nod. “Thanks. But I’m fine. Go back to work.” He lowered his voice to a growl. “Or I swear to God, Lorna, I’ll kill you.”
She rolled her eyes. “Fine. Whatever you say, boss.” With a wave, she bounded off in her mismatched Converse high-tops.
Maybe he should fire her. He’d put up with her bullshit long enough. Any sensible person would’ve sacked her on her first day.
Tomorrow. He didn’t trust himself at the moment. He didn’t feel right. Maybe he was coming down with the flu. Or that virus in the news. It was a good thing he was going home.
Two hours later, at home, blissfully Lorna-free and flowing with all the black coffee he could drink, he felt worse.
Going for Broke: Oakland Hills Friends to Lovers Romantic Comedy (Friends with Benefits) Page 16