THURSDAY: Bold, Rich & Strong (Hookup Café Book 4)

by Fifi Flowers

My mother would be thrilled to know what I had done for my roommates. Knowing that they were a couple of female college students probably on a budget and not wanting my condo to look like a flop house, I redecorated the room. I painted the one wall where the white headboards would rest a dark gray, got matching bedding in a plain white and placed dark gray faux fur throws at the ends. Then each girl got a black lockable trunk at the foot of their bed and two drawers each in a white dresser between the twin beds. In the closet that spanned the entire length of the room on one side, I installed two dressers, one for each girl. Lastly, I made sure their bathroom coordinated perfectly since that would also serve as a powder room, and made sure they had plenty of bath linens. I’d say that I did a damn good job—so much so that the other roommate had me help her with sprucing up her room and private bathroom. Thankfully, her living room furniture fit in well with a few throw pillows added. I got lucky with my roommates.

  “Hey…” I was about to ask how in the hell he knew so much about me, but he launched into his own story.

  “I get it. I’m from Boston. My father owns a big construction company back there and I could be a part owner, but I wanted to do things on my own.”

  “You came quite a distance to prove yourself.” I turned on the ignition, put the car into reverse, but kept my foot on the brake. “How are you going to get home from the café?”

  “You. I already had my truck driven to my house earlier when you volunteered your nursing services.”

  “I only got you into my father’s office. I didn’t volunteer to play nurse for you.” It was my turn to wince as I waited for him to make a naughty nurse comment. I didn’t get one. Instead, he told me nicely that he really needed my help and asked me to take him to his house. Not feeling like I had a choice, I backed my car out of the parking slot and off we went down the highway with my car radio instructing me which direction to go after he entered his address into my phone that was synced with my car’s Bluetooth. It proved to be a good thing he did that since I found myself chauffeuring a gorgeous sleeping man. I didn’t really mind, it kept him from insulting me, starting a fight, or talking dirty to me.

  Chapter Six…

  As my car alerted me to pull off the freeway, Deacon stirred in his seat next to me. “Sorry about falling asleep. I have a bad habit of doing that when someone drives me. Not to mention, I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  I assured him that it was no problem and suggested that we fill the prescription before getting to his house. That would be an easy way to look after him if he was passed out. But apparently, when I was saying my goodbyes to my father, Audrey slipped him a sample pack—I’m not sure if that’s legal, but I wasn’t about to get anyone in trouble. And damn, if he didn’t add that he didn’t like to take drugs that took away his control—aspirin suited him just fine for pain relief.

  “Whatever you say,” I said, continuing to follow the British man’s instructions as to where I needed to turn and how far until my destination. The final stop proved to be a jaw-dropping ultra-modern beach-house that I was sure had a spectacular ocean view since it appeared to be built right on the sand. “Wow! Fighting pays well!”

  “Construction work pays well. I told you the fight was a one-night-one-time thing.” Deacon’s voice seemed a bit annoyed or maybe it was pain as he struggled to get out of my tiny car.

  Trying to help him, I opened the door wider as he reached in for his crutches, I continued to ramble on. I have to admit that I was a bit nervous about being alone with him at his house—well, I assumed that we would be alone. “I don’t usually care for modern houses, but this isn’t gaudy, and it fits in nicely with the neighboring houses—such a big variety. Is this your design?”

  “My idea and labor, I have an architect that listens well and can decipher my chicken-scratch-not-to-scale scribbles.” He laughed. “Let me guess, you grew up in a dollhouse style painted Victorian house or castle for daddy’s little princess.” I didn’t know whether to knock his crutches out from under his arms as we made our way to the front door or not. Instead, I ignored his comments and shot back to defend myself.

  “Ha! I was more of a tomboy that liked to wear frilly fashionable clothes. Give me roller blades, a bicycle, or a tennis racket over baby dolls any day. And no, my parents have an old Mediterranean style house built in the early 1900s. It has lots of character.”

  “I’m surprised.” His answer was short but laced with sarcasm as we finally got in through the door and he gave me his security code to disarm the alarm system. Then I followed him into his living room where he plunked down on a large sectional sofa with a low but detectible wince that matched a pained look.

  “You sure like to insult me a lot. You don’t think much of me.”

  “I think about you all the time… You’re usually bent over a piece of my furniture, looking out to the ocean, and taking my cock like a good girl.”

  “Does that line work for you?” I asked with my hands on my hips.

  “It’s not a line. It’s the truth and you like it… you like me.”

  “I have never given you any clue that I like you at all. Do you want something to eat or drink? You do have food and stuff here, right?” I started moving toward the glass front and he still chattered on behind me as I opened up sliding doors that seemed to slide wide open, bringing the outside in or the inside out. Either way, it was an amazing view and the breeze felt so good caressing my skin.

  “We’ve been playing a game of cat and dog for a year. The kitchen is fully stocked. I’ll take a water if you want one.” Had I really been putting up with him for a whole year? I questioned silently as I turned and headed for the kitchen. Opening the huge side-by-side professional refrigerator, I saw that there was enough food to last for days, maybe weeks.

  “I’m not playing anything with you. And I don’t like you,” I said, handing him a bottle of water after I untwisted it—I wasn’t sure if he could open it with the splint on his finger.

  “Then why did you take me to see your father?” He took a drink and seemed to be studying me or waiting for an answer. “Why don’t you ignore my comments? There’s a saying that goes something like; if people annoy you, simply ignore them, and they will go away. You don’t want me to go away. You want me as much as I want you… since the first day I saw you almost two years ago on a Thursday morning.”

  I stared at him, confused as I found a seat on a nearby armless chair. “What? I haven’t known you for that long.”

  “I saw you when you applied to be a sexy-as-fuck barista.”

  What?! I was truly puzzled by his admission, but he proceeded to describe the day perfectly. Well, at least the café part—he had no way of knowing about the great humiliation I suffered before strolling into what was to be my new life.

  He explained that he was the contractor for the café’s remodel. He mentioned that I looked so out of place wearing a business suit and sexy high heels with my blonde hair pulled up. That my pearl necklace was a nice touch, but too old and conservative for me. I nearly laughed thinking if only he had seen some of my other stuffy clothing. My shoes were about the only item that made me feel good when I got dressed for work. But I wanted to look the part; grown up, responsible, exec-like. In the end the look didn’t matter. Which Deacon, apparently, noticed by his comment. He did say that he felt bad hearing that I had lost my job and needed work immediately along with roommates.

  “Right then and there I wanted to hire you and become your roommate. I was ready to be a package deal. If Pansie hadn’t hired you on the spot I was going to step up and offer you a position…”

  “I can imagine the position!”

  “I already told you how I want you.”

  Refusing to continue that line of conversation, I defended my role at Cafélicious. “Well, that’s not all I do there. I take care of the café’s accounting for Pansie.”

  “When do you do that? I only see you making coffee.” I reminded him that he was not at the cafe twent
y-four-seven to spy on me and he laughed. For all I knew, he had hidden cameras or people on his payroll watching me. I ignored him.

  “It’s ongoing. I developed a program with a computer genius. I told him what I wanted it to do and he made it happen.”

  It is a great system based on what most bars and restaurants already use; giving the staff access to log food and drink orders. Only I took it a few steps forward to include everything going on in the café while tying in all financial components to the business. Employees log into work, do their orders, Pansie logs monies going out for supplies, credit card fees, etcetera, and then all monies coming in. With everything having a code, it all organizes itself for tax purposes and to pay employees. There are a few other things it can do and it can be modified if she wants more things itemized. Tax time is a breeze for her, and I just have to tell the computer to print forms and checks.

  “I’m impressed.” He sounded sincere. “Does it work for any kind of business?”

  “Yes, with modifications. In fact, I am working out some bugs for Vivienne’s salon and once I have it up and running, I will be starting to work more diligently with her good friend Scarlett of Rhett Scarlett Organic Products. Even Vin is working on getting me an introduction to a vineyard in Temecula.”

  He chuckled. “That’s not all he’s working…”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I regretted asking that as I didn’t really want to hear him bad mouth Darla, if she was what he was referring to. But, it turned out that I had nothing to worry about.

  “Guy Code, as Belinda says, my lips are sealed.”

  “You’re quoting the Go-Gos?” I was shocked.

  “They’re classic to quote: Can’t seem to get my mind off of you…”

  “Doesn’t ring a bell.” I knew the song, but it was fun to hear his singing.

  “Here’s the rest of it, Vacation, had to get away.”

  I had to laugh. “You do not seem like the Go-Go type… at all.”

  “What type do I seem like?” He tilted his head, looking like he was waiting for my answer. A million words soared into my brain, but none of them were nice.

  “Don’t ask. I’m still not fond of you.” He just smirked and closed his eyes as the sunlight hit his gorgeous face.

  Standing, I walked over to him carefully, imagining that it was a ploy to maybe pull me down next to him. He didn’t move at all when I gently removed the water bottle, and set it down on a tray situated in the middle of a large ottoman. Then I left him to nap in the sunshine while I went back into the kitchen to figure out dinner.

  Looking up from time to time—while I chopped vegetables and prepped some chicken breasts—at the gorgeous man even with a beaten up face, my heart leapt in my chest. I was still amazed by the fact that I had allowed myself to be trapped in his web. All of my own doing really. He was right, I did feel something for him. A love-hate… or like-hate. I wasn’t willing to admit to anything close to love. That would be ridiculous. I had never kissed him or dated him or… but I had fantasized about him on several occasions. And I know he did the same about me because he told me so many times over. “Saylor, were your ears burning last night? Because I was moaning your name as I rubbed one out in the shower.”

  Suddenly, I found myself laughing and one sexy man coming up behind me. His lips to my ear, “I know that kind of laugh… it involves me exciting you.” Fuck! He was so right and I was truly in trouble being so close to him, alone in his house. How we made it through dinner, a movie, and slipping into his bed together without taking things to the next level was a miracle… or a shame. But I was certain that if he had been in tip-top physical shape and not injured, I would no longer be a Deacon-virgin.

  Surprise to me, he was true to his word when he offered me a t-shirt to sleep in after he came out of his master bath, and asked me to sleep in his bed with him. “I promise I will not touch you unless you beg me to, but I’m sure I couldn’t even move the way I want to with you right now. I don’t even have the strength to shower.”

  I smiled, took his shirt, and walked into his bathroom to change. Wow! I loved the bathroom with its walk-in shower and enormous bathtub that I couldn’t help but envision myself lounging in with a million fragrant bubbles floating above me. My thoughts even wandered to a certain muscle-bound man joining me. Lying back behind me, my head back on his shoulder, his hands skimming my breasts, toying with my nipples… a moan escaped my lips and startled me. I prayed that it wasn’t as loud as it seemed and if it was that he had already fallen asleep. Quick to finish up, I stripped, pulled his shirt that smelled incredibly masculine over my head, and let it fall down my body. It wasn’t supposed to send a volt of electricity throughout my body but it did. And I wasn’t supposed to think about him kissing me as I brushed my teeth and tongue with a new toothbrush I found sitting on the counter with toothpaste already on it.

  What the hell was the matter with me? Why was I going to climb into bed with a man who had tried to get under my skin forever? I asked myself silently as I entered a darkened room lit only by moonlight, hearing a gentle snore. I simply had no logical answer as I lifted the sheet and slipped in on the opposite side from where the beast slept.

  Chapter Seven…

  Waking the next morning, I felt rough hands roaming my naked body… my naked body? How the hell did that happen? It was warm wearing his oversized t-shirt, but did I actually take it off or did he? He certainly wouldn’t undress me. He didn’t strike me as the type that would take advantage of a woman. No, I’m pretty sure that several women had probably ripped their clothes off the minute they were alone with him. I had a feeling that I had become one of them during the middle of the night only it was for a completely different reason.

  Turning, I scanned the bed and floor for the discarded shirt. Not finding it, I laid on my back and tucked the top sheet around my body. Then I, bravely, twisted my head to the side and looked into two beautiful turquoise eyes that sparkled when I said good morning. I smiled and shook my head when he told me it was the best morning of his life. He was always quick with witty lines and many less than appealing ones.

  “I invited your parents to come see your new home next weekend. I could’ve had them over this weekend, but I want you all to myself for the week.”

  “You invited my parents to your house?” What the hell? Then it hit me—he had banked on me staying with him. “Wait! Week? I’m not staying here for a week. I have work.”

  “Our home, baby. You had plenty of vacation time according to Pansie. She was fine about you taking off a week to take care of me.” My head was swimming with all of his words about making arrangements and then he was back to talking about my parents and having a nice dinner for them. “Besides, I need to properly ask your father for permission. Announcing my intentions about his daughter in his office yesterday was just downright rude.”

  “You’re suddenly worried about being rude? And you went behind my back and talked to Pansie? Where was I when you had all of these discussions?” The only time he was out of my sight was when I had my back to him, cooking dinner in his amazing kitchen that was double the size of mine, and had much better appliances.

  “So you’re not opposed to me asking for your hand in marriage and them coming here for a late lunch? I’ve known you for two years and been courting you for a year. It’s time.”

  “Courting me? You mean harassing me?” How could he think that his lewd remarks were courting? And if he was courting me, wouldn’t there be dates involved? I didn’t understand him and for the life of me, I couldn’t picture him in the café any time before our initial meeting when he questioned my name. “I don’t remember you being in the café when I first started.”

  And I truly meant that. He’s hard to miss. But maybe it was because he had looked a bit different with long dark blond hair that he sometimes wore in a ponytail. Then he told me that there were only a couple times after he first noticed me that he stopped in for coffee before he took off for nearly a
year. He said that had he known that I would come into his life he would’ve never accepted jobs in LA, working on some other restaurants. And then he couldn’t say no to working with a well-known restaurateur—Spencer Donovan he said proudly, but I’d never heard of him—that owns several restaurants. Apparently, there was no way of getting back to San Diego any sooner, since he wound up following Spencer to his brother’s dude ranch where he has part ownership of the restaurant. Done with his last obligation and not wanting to be away from me any longer, he took more interest in his D’Gym expansion.

  Was he for real, I wondered. “You own that body building gym?”

  “Yep, I started the chain and we have more than just body building; cardio equipment, mixed martial arts, grappling, judo, cycling classes, yoga… basically, a little of everything. You could come in and I could work you out.”

  I sidestepped his raised eyebrow when he mentioned “working me out,” and redirected our conversation with a question. “Is that how you were involved in underground fighting? I’m pretty sure that whatever you were involved in wasn’t an organized… legal event.”

  “I gave it a try and retired in the same night, I wasn’t lying.” He looked me straight in the eye and I believed him but I still had a bit of fun implying that he quit because he didn’t want to hurt his pretty face.

  He assured me that it wasn’t for that reason and that he prefers mixed martial arts fighting. I flinched when he told me what he did to the other guy and how much worse he ended up than what he had done to Deacon. Brutal! He was lucky that he wasn’t knocked out, concussions are bad. I told him I was happy to hear that he wasn’t going to fight like that ever again.

  Of course, he twisted my words to his liking. “I knew you had a thing for me.”

  “Not hardly, but I don’t want to see you hurt.” I moved away from him, but he pulled me right back into his body and I could feel his huge length, hard up against me. It wasn’t easy to stay focused and noncommittal to sexual relations that had yet to commence—yet seemed inevitable being naked with only a sheet separating our naked bodies.