by L. A. Witt
Yeah, the alcohol had lowered our inhibitions, but I bristled at the idea that it had been a drunken threesome. That anyone in that room—in that bed—had been anything but into it. I never fucked people when they were drunk enough to do something stupid, and if I’d been that drunk myself, I’d have had my head hanging over the toilet long before we got anywhere.
No, we’d all been lucid.
Maybe if we hadn’t been, things would have been different. Maybe I would’ve been too drunk to plant that long kiss on Reuben’s mouth. Maybe he would’ve been too out of it to feel anything but turned on, and maybe he wouldn’t have looked at me like that.
My throat ached at the memory of that look we’d exchanged when he’d broken the kiss. For a couple of heartbeats, I’d forgotten anyone else existed, even while I’d been buried inside Reuben’s wife. A few seconds, that was all, but it had jarred me right to the core. Being naked and intimate with him after all that time had brought every feeling I’d ever had for him right to the surface, and it had all been seared at the edges by the knowledge that he was out of my reach. It had been exhilarating and excruciating, and I had never been so close and so far away from someone at the same time.
If we’d been drunk enough for that night to qualify as a drunken threesome, that moment never would have happened.
And Michelle never would have noticed.
But it had. And she had. She hadn’t said a word, but… she’d noticed. We’d carried on, but no one’s heart had been in it after that. I’d bowed out and gone home, and I’d spent the weekend sick to my stomach with guilt over what must have gone through her mind in that moment, not to mention berating myself for still carrying a torch for him after all that time. I’d promised myself I’d sit down with Reuben on Monday, and we’d talk things through, and we’d put all this to bed, and maybe I could find a way to apologize to Michelle without making everything worse.
But Reuben hadn’t come to work on Monday morning and it hadn’t taken long to figure out why. By lunchtime, the rumor had circulated all the way around the plant—Michelle was moving out of their house. By five o’clock, the rumor had been confirmed. Reuben and Michelle were divorcing.
Gripping the van’s wheel as I stared hard at the interstate, I willed the sting in my eyes to go away on its own. I didn’t dare wipe them. I didn’t want Reuben to notice, especially because he wouldn’t ask. He’d damn sure know what was on my mind, but he wouldn’t ask, and we’d just continue in miserable silence because we both knew what he wouldn’t say.
He and Michelle had invited me into their bed.
Within days, their marriage had been over.
Now things were unbearably weird between Reuben and me.
And I didn’t know how—or if—we could come back from this.
***
Losing our appetites and only eating a few bites of our breakfast had one unfortunate side effect—within a couple of hours, we were both starving.
Of course, now we were out on one of those wide-open stretches of farmland and nothing. I didn’t trust gas station food, and I doubted either of us wanted to stop long enough for a sit-down meal—especially since that would mean getting into Boise and out of this van even later—so that pretty much left drive-thru fast food.
I cleared my throat. “Do you still have any signal?”
He picked his phone up off his leg. “Three bars.”
“You want to see if there’s any place to eat coming up? Ideally with a drive-thru?”
He didn’t answer, but when I glanced at him, he was tapping his phone. A second later, he said, “There’s a Dairy Queen off the next exit, but it’s about ten miles down the road from there.”
“Works for me.”
Silence followed us down the off-ramp, along a winding road through farm country, and into the parking lot of a mostly deserted Dairy Queen. The drive-thru was closed, most likely because of the huge snowdrifts and the broad, shiny patches of ice. So we went in, ordered, and came back out to the van with a couple of burgers and sodas. It bugged the shit out of me that he didn’t make some joke about promising not to tell each other’s trainers about the crap we were eating. We were both religious about our workouts and diligent about our diets, and indulging in junk food wasn’t nearly as fun without some conspiratorial chuckling and vows of silence.
We climbed into the van, and I started the engine while he unwrapped his burger, but I didn’t pull out of the parking space yet. I also didn’t take my sandwich out of the bag despite my grumbling stomach.
Ignoring my nerves, I said, “I think we should talk.”
Reuben stopped chewing the bite he’d just taken, and his eyes darted toward me, wide with alarm. Yeah, that was one thing that would never change—Reuben hated uncomfortable conversations. Not that anyone liked them, but he stopped just shy of being allergic to them.
“Look.” I twisted in my seat so I was facing him. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but we’re stuck together for the next few days. Starting tomorrow, we’re actually going to have work together. Constantly.”
He nodded, cutting his eyes away from me as he resumed chewing. After he’d swallowed, he said, “Yeah, I know.”
“So we really should clear the air.”
Reuben winced. He eyed his burger, and a pang of guilt smacked me in the stomach. He needed to eat—couldn’t I wait to bring this up until after he’d sated his appetite? But he took another bite. Smaller this time, but encouraging.
Though my own appetite was iffy while we were discussing this, the throbbing in my temples was non-negotiable, so I took my burger out of the bag. As I unwrapped it, I said, “Are you mad about what happened the night of the party?”
Reuben stared out the windshield with unfocused eyes, chewing thoughtfully. Then he took a swig of soda, and when he spoke, he kept his attention on the wheat field. “Not at you, no.”
More guilt. Damn it. “But it shouldn’t have happened?”
He sighed, slowly shaking his head. “Probably not.”
We ate in silence for a minute or so. I decided it was partly because we both seriously needed to eat, and partly to let the truth sink in—that the threesome we’d had with his ex-wife had been a mistake. I’d known it. He’d probably known it. Saying it out loud gave that truth some weight that hadn’t been there, though, and getting it out in the open didn’t make me feel any better.
Reuben wadded up his empty wrapper and dropped it in the bag. A moment later, I did the same, and got out to toss the bag into the snow-covered trash can.
As I pulled back out onto the road, I glanced at him. “Okay, so we agree it was a mistake.”
He tensed.
“But it’s not like we can go back and change it,” I went on. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry if it caused any problems with you and Michelle. If I could undo that, I would.”
Reuben nodded, jaw tight, but still didn’t speak.
Drumming my thumbs on the wheel, I kept my attention on the two-lane road taking us back to the interstate. I started to speak, but so did he, and we both paused, exchanging glances.
I cleared my throat. “Go ahead.”
He fidgeted in his seat, and finally said, “I really don’t want things to be weird between us.”
Relief rushed through me. “Neither do I.”
“But… they are weird. They’ve been that way since the Christmas party. I…” He shifted around some more. “How do we fix that?”
I chewed the inside of my cheek. The on-ramp came into view, and I put us back on the freeway to continue toward Boise. “I don’t know how to fix it, honestly. All I can think of is that we let things go as best we can, and try to be friends like we were before.”
“Sounds like something that’s easier said than done.”
“It is,” I admitted. “But it’s worth it, right?”
Reuben tapped his nails on the console between us. “Yeah. Yeah, it is. And I guess it would be easier if we weren’t stuck together li
ke this.”
“Maybe. Or maybe it’s a good thing.”
“How do you figure?”
“Well.” I shrugged. “If your dad hadn’t thrown us into this trip, how long do you think we would’ve gone before we talked about this?”
“Hmm. Yeah. Probably a while.” He pulled his drink from the cupholder and took a deep swallow. “I don’t think it’s going to be fixed overnight, though.”
“Doesn’t have to be.” I glanced at him again. “We’re both professionals. We can handle the trade show like adults, and after we get back to Seattle, we’ll work on the rest of it.”
Reuben seemed to mull that over. “Okay. Okay, yeah. I can do that.”
“Me too.” I stole another look. “We’ve got this.”
He brightened a little. “Yeah. We’ve got this.”
Chapter 5
Reuben
The rest of the drive to Boise was more comfortable. We still weren’t back to being able to effortlessly shoot the breeze like we’d always been able to do, but it was an improvement. I’d take it.
Thanks to some shitty road conditions on the way through northeastern Oregon and into Idaho—I fucking hated traveling in the winter—not to mention an eighteen-wheeler that had bitten the dust thanks to those shitty road conditions, it was almost six when we pulled into the hotel. The eight-hour drive had turned into fourteen hours, and we’d both been so tired we’d had to switch off almost every hour for the last third of that. And then there was the time change, so it was actually seven o’clock, and who knew one hour could make a man feel this jetlagged?
At least we didn’t have to deal with parking. Marcus handed the keys off to the valet after we’d removed our suitcases, and we headed into the lobby.
“I am so glad we’re not setting things up until tomorrow,” Marcus muttered on the way through the revolving door. “I would seriously just burn the whole thing down.”
I chuckled. “Now I know why Dad doesn’t let you handle the cutting torch demos at these things.”
He laughed, and I tried not to let it show how relieved I was to be able to make him laugh again. We weren’t back on solid ground yet, but I finally had a tiny ray of hope that we could be.
There was a sizeable line of people waiting to check in, which wasn’t surprising right before a big convention. There’d probably be twice as many showing up tomorrow—Marcus had explained that he and the field reps always came a day early so they’d have time to settle in, set up the booth, and go find an office supply store if they’d left something behind. As meticulous as he was about making lists and planning everything within an inch of its life, I couldn’t imagine him forgetting anything.
As soon as we were in line, Marcus the Marketing Manager came to life. A pair of bald guys in suits struck up a conversation with him—they obviously recognized him—and like magic, all his fatigue and frustration vanished. The transformation was instantaneous and dramatic. One second he was barely holding himself up, his eyes heavy-lidded and his gait dragging like he wanted nothing more than to faceplant in bed. The next, he had on a broad smile and his eyes were bright as he chatted up the people around us. He was like a different person.
With a hand on my shoulder, he gently herded me closer. “Have you met Reuben Kelly? Bob Kelly’s son? He’s our head of engineering.”
“We haven’t met,” one of the men said, extending a hand, “but we’ve talked on the phone. I’m Roger West from Rocky Mountain Analytics.”
“Oh, right!” I smiled—not as easily as Marcus, but I managed—and shook his hand. “It’s nice to finally put a face with the voice.”
Others in line turned toward us, as if they were drawn in by Marcus’s magnetic charisma, and I found myself being cheerfully introduced to a dozen people I’d spoken to or heard of, but had never met. Even as we all inched toward the registration desk, Marcus held court in the tightly wound cattle line, seeming to bring every tired person in the room to life with nothing more than a handshake and a smile. Jesus. I’d always known he was good at his job, but seeing him truly in his element was a sight to behold.
I couldn’t say if the line moved quickly, or if time just seemed to go faster while Marcus charmed and schmoozed. Before I knew it, though, we were at the registration desk. After that, it was another fifteen minutes before we were on our way to the elevators, and a good five after that before we could finally get into one.
A couple of sales reps from our steel supplier were on the elevator with us. They got off on the fifth floor while we continued up to the tenth.
As soon as the doors slid shut behind them, sealing us in here alone, Marcus sagged back against the wall, closing his eyes and releasing a long breath. The transformation this time was even more dramatic than earlier, as if the spell had been broken and all the life had gone out of him at once. If things had been just slightly less awkward between us, I’d have put a hand on his shoulder to make sure he stayed upright.
“You okay?” I asked.
He nodded, eyes still closed. “I just don’t have the energy to people today.”
“Could’ve fooled me back there.”
He looked at me, and a tired smile played at his full lips. “Can’t let people see the man behind the curtain.”
“Not even when you’re off the clock?”
Marcus chuckled softly, like it took some actual work. He glanced up as the elevator stopped with a gentle lurch and a ding. “I’m never off the clock at these things. Trust me.”
We filed off the elevator and headed down the hall to our room. As he tugged the keycard from its cardboard folder, my gut tightened. I’d been so mesmerized by his charisma downstairs, I hadn’t even thought about the fact that we were sharing a room.
He touched the card to the sensor, and when the green light came on and the door clicked, my throat tightened.
Oblivious, Marcus pushed open the door.
I hesitated, but followed him.
“You have any preference about which bed?” He shuffled deeper into the room, dragging his suitcase like it weighed a hundred pounds.
“Uh. No.” I shut the door behind us. “No preference.”
“Good.” He propped his suitcase next to the first bed, draped his garment bag over it, and then flopped unceremoniously onto the bed on his back. “Oh my God, I am so glad to be out of that van.” The words came out as a groan.
I laughed. It was definitely a good thing we’d had a talk a few hours ago and made some headway toward clearing the air. Otherwise, I might’ve taken his comment personally. But things were a bit less awkward between us now, and the drive really had been draining.
I sank onto the other bed. “So, what’s the plan for tonight?”
“No plan.” Marcus rubbed his hands over his face before letting them fall to the bed at his sides. “Aside from room service, a shower, and sleep.”
“Room service?”
“Fuck yeah.”
“Accounting doesn’t get their nose out of joint over that?”
He snorted. With a wicked smirk on his face, he turned to me. “Not anymore they don’t.”
I arched an eyebrow.
Chuckling, he looked up at the ceiling again. “They tried to tell us we couldn’t do room service unless we wanted to pay for it ourselves. Then they realized that if I’m eating in the room, I’ll just have a meal and maybe a glass of wine. If I’m down at the bar or the restaurant, and potential clients show up…” He shrugged, the smirk shifting to a poor attempt at innocence. “Well, I have to wine and dine them, right?”
I laughed. “You conned accounting into letting you expense room service. I’m impressed, Marcus. I really am.”
“Just don’t rat me out to your dad, all right?”
“Are you kidding?” I picked up the room service menu off the table between the beds. “Ordering in means I don’t have to go out and deal with”—I wrinkled my nose—“people.”
“Oh. Right. I forgot.” He sat up with a theatrical groan
and swung his legs over the side of the bed. “I’m traveling with an engineer.”
I grunted as I flipped through the menu.
Marcus studied me, and when he spoke again, his tone was more serious. “Are you going to be okay for this? For the trade show, I mean?”
I looked at him through my lashes. “I told you. I can be professional, and we’ll deal with our—”
“No, not because of that.” He shook his head. “I know you. You’re an introvert. This is going to be a lot of people in your face for hours on end.” His forehead creased. “Are you sure you’ll be all right?”
I gulped. All the way here, I’d been focused on whether I’d be able to cope with Marcus. I hadn’t had time to think about everything else this show entailed. “I’ve, um… I’ve never been to one. So I don’t know.”
Palpable concern radiated off him. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and looked in my eyes. “It’s going to be overwhelming, okay? You’re pretty much installing a revolving door on your personal space. It’s even overwhelming for me, especially after two or three days.”
“Oh fuck. If it’s a lot for you…”
“It is, but it’s manageable.” He shrugged. “Honestly, you won’t have to deal with people as much as I will. You’re there in case someone needs more technical specifics than I can give, and for demos. If it gets to be too much and you need a break for a while, just keep your phone with you and stay close by. I’ll text you if I need you.”
I held his gaze as some tension eased from my back and shoulders. “Really?”
“Of course.” A small smile came to life. “Everyone here is used to dealing with engineers, and believe me, you won’t be the only engineer hiding in his room or at the bar.”
“Oh. That’s… that’s actually encouraging.”
The smile broadened, lighting up his face as if I needed a reminder of what had drawn me to him in the very, very beginning. He was gorgeous anyway, and deploying that hypnotic smile was not playing fair. Especially not when he had five-o’clock shadow because damn, this man had always been hot with stubble.