Just Be Her

by Kaydence Snow

  His right hand shifted lower—only a fraction of an inch, but enough for his fingers to brush the top of my panties, enough for me to realize I was hugging a stranger in my damn underwear! My heart thudded in my chest, and I pulled back, but then our eyes met, and I forgot what I was doing.

  “But I have conditions,” he finally said, his lips inches from mine.

  “Conditions?”

  His eyes flicked to my lips, then back up to my eyes, then back down, lower. When he looked up again, they widened. “You should probably get dressed first.”

  He cleared his throat and turned those mesmerizing, distracting eyes up to the ceiling, but his hands were still at my back, holding me against him.

  “Oh my god!” Mortified, I stepped out of his arms and rushed back into the apartment, slamming the door.

  “Uh, why don’t you get dressed and come down to the bar. There’s no one around. We can talk.” He walked away without waiting for a response.

  I stood with my back against the wall, listening to his heavy footfalls and trying to catch my breath. I was hot, but I was also hot and bothered. I couldn’t stop thinking about how good he smelled, how hard his chest was against my breasts, how his touch made me feel both grounded and like I was seconds away from being taken to new heights. His hands were big and strong. What would it have felt like if he’d kept moving them down, over my ass, under my panties, his big fingers sliding inside . . . ?

  I shook my head and locked the door, heading for the bathroom and a cold shower before I made my way downstairs.

  Andre was very polite, not bringing up our moment in the hallway as he ran me through his chat with Toni.

  His few conditions were perfectly reasonable. He wanted me not to slack off on Toni’s shifts at the bar, as he couldn’t afford to look for someone else on such short notice; he wanted Toni to check in with him every few days; and he wanted a promise from both of us that should either one decide she felt uncomfortable or unsafe, we’d shut it down.

  I readily agreed. These were things Toni and I had already discussed.

  We spent a bit of time chatting about inconsequential things, and before long it was time to get to work.

  Loretta showed up and cracked a joke about me being out of bed before she’d fired up the grill. “Can’t remember that ever happening!” She laughed and coughed as she disappeared into the kitchen.

  Andre and I exchanged a look and a silent laugh. Having someone to share the secret with was really nice. It wasn’t how I’d planned for this to play out, but I was supposed to be having a break from my planned, regimented, obligatory life, so I chose to embrace it.

  My body was still sore, but Andre helped me restock the fridges and quietly instructed me on a few other things anyone working behind a bar should already know. The other wait staff didn’t take long to arrive—both casuals whose names I didn’t know—and Andre managed the bar seamlessly, giving them the more complex tasks and getting me to do things that wouldn’t make it so obvious I had no idea what I was doing.

  The Cottonmouth filled up as night fell, and one of the casuals came behind the bar with a tray of empty glasses. “Band’s here!” she announced and turned to take an order.

  Andre smiled and rushed around the bar to greet them. I couldn’t see much through the crowd, but he stayed with the band as they set up. I caught several glimpses of him speaking to a guy in ripped jeans and a black vest over a white T-shirt, tattoos covering his entire right arm. They joked and chatted with an ease that indicated closeness, even intimacy.

  “You do something to piss him off?” the blonde casual asked.

  “What? Who?” I turned my attention to her. She was pouring drinks while I unstacked glasses from the dishwasher tray.

  “Andre. He’s got you bussing tables, and you keep throwing him weird looks. What’d you do?”

  “What? I’m not throwing anyone any weird looks. Everything’s fine.” I smiled, but my eyes once again drifted to Andre through the crowd.

  “Fine. Keep your secrets.” She gave me a pointed look and turned to take another order.

  The bar was getting busier as the band started to check their instruments, and I had to take a few orders. Thankfully, they were mostly just beer and easy to handle.

  I closed the till and looked up. The guy Andre had been speaking to stood in front of me on the other side of the bar.

  He wasn’t as bulky as Andre, but he wasn’t skinny either. He was lean, the fabric of his T-shirt clinging in all the right places to show off the lines of his toned body. Several leather necklaces hung around his neck, which displayed another tattoo along the side. Where else did he have ink? I had the distinct urge to find out with a thorough examination.

  My encounter with Andre must’ve still had me worked up. I forced a smile to hide the lust in my gaze.

  His eyes met mine, the color indiscernible in the low light, and he scowled. With a tilt of his head, he leaned forward on the bar, challenge joining the disdain already present in his expression. He had brown hair—short at the sides and long and messy on top. Several stud earrings sparkled in his left ear, and a ring through the middle of his bottom lip caught the light as he moved.

  The look he was giving me threw me off guard; it seemed like he wanted to throw a beer in my face.

  “I got this.” Andre appeared beside me. He gripped my hips loosely as he shuffled behind me to my other side, then they both proceeded to ignore me. Confused, I frowned and turned to take another order.

  Things really picked up then, and there wasn’t time to ask Andre what his friend’s problem was. But when the band started playing, all thoughts of what an asshole he was left my brain.

  They started with a cover of “Rescue Me,” but it sounded almost nothing like OneRepublic’s hit. It was still up-tempo and full of energy, but the new rock arrangement gave a whole new, deeper meaning to the lyrics.

  Tattooed asshole was lead singer and guitarist, and his voice was like sex. Every grunt into the microphone, every smooth note made heat shoot down my spine almost as intensely as Andre’s hands had in the hallway.

  All night I couldn’t keep my eyes off him. I’m sure I looked like a lunatic, staring at the stage every chance I got. He kept meeting my gaze.

  Every time our eyes met, his would narrow.

  As the night started to wind down, the band packed up. On their way out, the lead singer paused by the bar. He reached over and did a sideways high five followed by a fist bump with Andre. Then with the same hand, he pointed at me. “Nice try with the crazy eyes.” He flipped the hand to give me the middle finger, walking backward toward the door. “Didn’t work.”

  He flashed a cruel grin—perfectly straight teeth and that piercing digging into his bottom lip. As he turned, he punctuated his perplexing words by calling me a bitch over his shoulder.

  I propped my hands on my hips and ground my teeth. What the hell had Toni done to piss this guy off? I hoped to hell it had nothing to do with a romantic past. It would be too weird if we slept with the same guy.

  I shook my head and stormed into the bathroom for a breather. Why was I even thinking about sleeping with someone who’d just called me a bitch?

  …

  A: We have a problem! I need you to call me ASAP!

  A: Toni?

  A: TONI!!!

  A: This is serious! Call me NOW!

  T: Fuck! What? I’m having brunch with your boo. I can’t exactly talk right now.

  A: We’re busted!

  T: WHAT?

  T: How?

  A: Andre! He clearly knows you way better than you think. He had me figured out in the first 24 hours. Now he’s demanding to speak with you or he’ll call the police.

  T: Shit! OK, I’ll call him as soon as I can get away.

  T: How did this happen?

  A: Oh, I don’t know . . .

  A: Maybe because you failed to mention that you have a GIANT FUCKING BIRD THAT LIKES TO LET ITSELF INTO YOUR APARTMENT???


  T: LOL! What does Ken have to do with anything?

  A: I have a fear of birds. He scared the absolute crap out of me. Andre saw the whole thing.

  T: Hahahahahahahaha!

  A: Not funny.

  T: It’s a little funny.

  Seven

  Toni

  Wearing one of Alex’s white swimsuits, a wide-brimmed hat, and some sheer linen thing George had referred to as “resort wear,” I made my way out to the pool. I’d given George shit for even knowing what “resort wear” was, but if I was being honest, he had saved my ass several times. It was as if he was constantly hovering just out of view, waiting to jump in and provide some bit of information I didn’t have or pretend he needed to speak with me.

  Since Alex’s panicked message and a very long conversation with Andre, I’d come to realize I maybe had more people in my corner than I originally thought. It was nice to know but also a little scary.

  Taking care of myself was so much easier. And it was even easier in the lap of luxury.

  I picked a lounger in the shade and removed the sheer thing, settling into the chair. Even the towels at this place were thick and soft. I wondered if anyone would notice if I took a few when I went.

  Other than the few times George had intervened and saved my ass, the past few days had been going great. The Winthrops were busy people, and I’d only seen Oren’s parents a handful of times in passing. I, on the other hand, had nothing better to do than take full advantage of a life of luxury.

  A servant delivered the Bloody Mary I’d asked for on a silver tray.

  I smiled at the young man. “Thank you.”

  He nodded and disappeared.

  In the past few days, I’d tried on every article of clothing Alex had packed—it was more than I owned—every piece of jewelry, even the multiple pairs of heels.

  I’d tested out the devotion of the hired help by ordering the most pompous things I could think of at all hours of the day. Caviar, lobster, champagne, truffle pasta, and strawberries dipped in Swiss chocolate were all delivered with a smile and without any question or complaint.

  I’d taken baths in the ridiculous tub, wandered around the house looking at artwork that probably cost a fortune. I’d gone into every room I didn’t think I’d find another person in and confirmed the only television was in the tucked-away lounge Oren had pointed out.

  I’d discovered the library—they had a fucking library—on the third day and decided to fill my time with reading.

  I opened the thriller I was halfway through and sipped on the Bloody Mary while wishing for a cigarette. I’d been cutting down. A lot. Having fewer was easier when you were worried about someone busting you. I smoked almost only at night at my open window, but it was still damn hard.

  I refocused on the book, trying to keep my mind off nicotine, and managed to get engrossed in it. Dropping the now empty glass on the side table, I turned the page, but the sound of the door opening made me look up.

  Oren strode toward the pool area from a side door I knew led to the fully equipped gym. I was giving that particular area of the house a wide berth.

  “Good morning.” He smiled and waved from the other side of the pool.

  “Morning.” I waved back.

  He was in shorts and a tank, his breathing a little labored, his hairline sweaty.

  “I hope you don’t mind the intrusion.” He unfurled a jump rope. “I’m going to be cooped up in meetings all day—thought I might take advantage of the sunshine and finish my workout outside.”

  “Of course!” I gave him a wide smile and lifted my book before mumbling under my breath, “It’s your giant house. Do whatever the fuck you want.” I just wanted to be left alone, but what was I supposed to say?

  He picked a spot on the paved area. The steady rhythm of the rope hitting the ground grated on my nerves, and I was glad he couldn’t see me roll my eyes behind the dark sunglasses.

  What the hell was he doing out here anyway? If there was one thing I’d learned about Oren Winthrop, it was that he was a creature of habit.

  He got up at precisely six—I knew because, despite the property’s grandeur, the old plumbing was loud and creaky—took a shower, went down to breakfast, worked for an hour. By this point I’d gotten up, unable to get back to sleep after being woken by the loud pipes, and had to walk past his office to get to the kitchen. Then he made his way down to the gym and exercised for one hour before getting dressed and either working in his office or leaving to do whatever the fuck it was he did.

  Dude ran his life like clockwork; I was beyond shocked to see him breaking his routine.

  It may have still been morning, but the heat was already rising, making me contemplate having a dip. And I was just reading in the shade. I couldn’t imagine how hot he had to be jumping like that.

  He must’ve had the same thought, because he stopped, dropped the rope, and took his shirt off. After depositing the sweaty garment on the ground, he picked the rope up again and got back to work.

  I hadn’t read a word of my book since he’d come out, but I kept it up in front of my face as I watched him.

  I had to hand it to him—the guy was ripped. Every muscle in his body clenched and rolled as he jumped faster and faster. His face was pure focus, his lips parted. The skin of his defined shoulders and abs fucking glistened with sweat in the morning sun. He even had that V so many men wished for, pointing to the promised land. Er . . . some other chick’s promised land. Not mine. I wasn’t into privileged guys with control issues and ridiculously ripped bodies.

  Even his hair looked good, the auburn waves bouncing, a sweaty strand falling over his forehead. He clenched his teeth, punishing his body, and I wondered if he ever made that face during sex.

  I slammed my book shut. That was quite enough of that. Clearly I needed to get laid. It had been well over a week since the blond who’d tried to take me out for Cajun eggs, and that didn’t even count since I couldn’t remember most of it.

  The hat and sunglasses joined the book on the side table, and I waded into the pool. I ducked my head under, letting the cool water distract me from my lascivious thoughts. Thoughts that had nothing to do with Oren fucking Winthrop. Nope, I was just horny and projecting it onto the perfect specimen of male beauty jumping rope.

  I emerged in the middle of the pool and took a big gulp of air.

  From this vantage point, I could see his junk bouncing in his shorts. I averted my gaze immediately, swimming to the other side of the pool. The rhythmic whoosh-thwack of the jump rope suddenly stopped, and a splash had me turning back around.

  He had dived in and was shooting through the water. When he emerged near me, he was breathing hard from the cardio. His hair looked darker wet, but the morning sun was also bringing out some of the natural red hues in it.

  “Good workout?” I asked, looking for something to fill the silence.

  “Yeah,” he panted.

  “You usually go that hard?”

  “No. Sometimes. I had something to work through.” His breathing was calming down quickly. He lazily swam over to my side, and we both propped our elbows on the edge.

  “I hope it’s nothing too serious.” I didn’t actually give a shit. What kind of problems could a guy with that much money have?

  “Every problem has a solution.” He smiled, his gaze on an ant making its way across the pavers, inches from our faces.

  Cryptic much? I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.

  After a beat of silence, he turned his gaze to me. “How are you enjoying your stay? I’m sorry I haven’t had more time to spend with you.”

  “Oh, that’s OK. I’ve been taking full advantage of this pool.”

  He nodded. “Honestly, I’m surprised you haven’t been cooped up inside working more. I was under the impression . . . If I’d known, I wouldn’t have packed my work schedule so tightly.”

  Shit! Of course Alex was a workaholic; there was no way she would’ve been having as much leisure time as me.
“I’m doing what needs to be done.” Great. Now I was being cryptic. “But I have very reliable people, and honestly, it’s been nice to slow down a little.”

  “Good.” He pushed off, floating backward through the cool water. “In that case, I’d like to take you to dinner.”

  “Dinner?” Shit fuck shit!

  “Yes. You know, tablecloths, silverware, food delivered to the table?” Rich boy had some sass.

  I turned and cocked a brow. “We have that here. Daily.”

  He laughed “Yes, but I’d still like to take you out. Show you New Orleans a little. You’ve never been, right?”

  I’d only lived here for eight years. “No. First time.”

  “It’s settled then. The day after tomorrow?”

  “Sure.” I smiled, hoping it didn’t look as tight as it felt. What else was I supposed to do? Alex would’ve gone, because it was what she needed to do. Maybe I could make an excuse, pretend to be sick or something.

  “Perfect!” He swam to the steps leading out of the water and climbed out. The water dripped off him, droplets trickling over defined muscle. I may not have liked the guy, but I could appreciate a fine body when I saw one. His back was as toned as his front, his ass firm and round, and he had those little dimples just above the waistband of his shorts. “Have a great day, Alexandria.”

  I flicked my gaze up and just caught the knowing grin pulling at his lips before he turned and walked away. I was busted checking him out.

  I dipped below the water and resisted the urge to scream. I had to get this shit under control or he’d get the wrong idea, and Alex would skin my ass.

  There’s nothing like realizing how long it’s been since you’ve had sex to make you constantly think about sex. Oren’s little performance in the pool the previous day hadn’t helped. I was like a hormonal teenager, the ache between my legs almost constant, the knowledge that I couldn’t have something only making me crave it more.