by Angel Payne
“Anyhow,” I went on, stabbing at the word, “I had to take a second to lie down, and he turned all growly caveman and jealous of John—”
“Who’s John?” Once again, the Claire and Talia choir sang out.
“Did you fuck him too?” And once again, so did the Margaux jukebox.
I shook my head at all of them, focusing on my recount. “Mac bullied me into letting him drive back to my place.”
“Because he’d made you faint.” Talia dropped her fork again, in order to clutch both hands to her breast. “How romantic!”
“No.” I spread out both hands, erasing her conviction. “Not romantic. Just fun, sweetie. That’s all. He drove me home. One thing led to another. We fucked. It was nice.”
It was beyond nice…
But they weren’t going to know that. I enforced the point with a casual shrug, like it was an everyday occurrence to screw guys who drove me home. It was better that they thought that. Much better, if Maclain fucking Stone was going to be a Southern California resident now.
“He left early the next morning and flew home to Chicago,” I went on. “We talked and texted a few times over the next couple of weeks, but he’s never said anything about moving out here.” As the admission came out, so did my completely perturbed glower. “I wonder why he didn’t tell me. He’s such a dick.”
Talia, with hands still clasped like a damn movie princess, piped in, “Maybe he wanted to surprise you?”
“Surprise me?” I snorted “Isn’t that a pretty big assumption? Moving halfway across the country is kind of a big ‘something’ to conveniently leave out of a conversation.” Or a text message. Or a round of FaceTime sex, in which the parties discussed having a hot track date. Oh, my God. No wonder he sounded so sure about delivering on that shit with me…
“Well, maybe it wasn’t all because of you.” Despite the pretty princess pose, Talia was faithful to her textbook logic. She’d always been the most reasonable one in our group, grounded and sure, another contributing factor to people’s shock when they learned about her unconventional marriage. “It sounds like there was a lot of career motivation there too,” she suggested. “Maybe he didn’t want you to feel pressured into thinking it was all about you.”
“When exactly was the last time you spoke to him?” Claire’s questions, on the other hand, carried the professional curiosity of a crime scene investigator.
“Hmmm,” I teased back. “I’m not sure, Officer Stone. We had video sex about two weeks ago, before I hung up on him. We haven’t talked since.”
“Wait. You did what? After what?” Now even Margaux was stunned. Maybe that was a good thing. I’d started off with the cavalier attitude about all this but shown more of my hand than I wanted when going butt-hurt about Mac’s cute “surprise.” This new revelation could help me save face.
“You want that exact date too?” I taunted them, reveling in my fine, fine smartass skills. “I could check my FaceTime log…”
“Yes. Check!” Margaux nearly shouted.
“Gawd.” Claire grabbed at Margaux’s arm, visibly prompting her sister to dial shit back. “We don’t need the call log, Tay—although shit, to have been a fly on your wall…” She fanned herself with the dessert menu.
“I have no idea what the two of you are carrying on about.” I turned up my Southern drawl and batted my lashes a bunch of times. “Though I do swear, ladies, if you are telling me hot sex dries up just because you’ve had babies, I will never ever have a boob gobbler. Evah. I love sex too much to give it up for a little snot factory.”
“Hmmm.” Margaux cocked her head, contemplating that. “I think it’s been quite the opposite, actually. I’m afraid I’m going to get knocked up again. My hormones are on overdrive all the time, and Michael doesn’t seem to mind coming up with new and more devious ways of making me suffer. So no, babies don’t necessarily mean sex dries up. At least not in my house.” She sat down and took a big bite of her sandwich, looking to Claire for support. “And yours? Though I dread asking, because…my brother, and…ew.”
“Mine, neither.” Claire’s expressive eyes twinkled with mischief. “There are times you have to be quieter, but that just means getting creative.” She high-fived her sister. She and Margaux were adorable to watch, which made thinking backward, to the start of their relationship, that much more amazing. They’d come a long way in a short time. Healed a lot in each other…
I wondered if that would ever be possible for Mom and me. Could we ever mend stuff enough to have a loving, positive bond? It was so hard to imagine that ever happening, considering all the pain of our past and the resentment I harbored because of it. Because of her. Toward her. Even with years of therapy under my belt, there were issues tough to let go of. In addition, because so many of the triggers continued to happen, it seemed like I took one step forward and two steps back. Regularly.
The girls started talking about a new project for which the Stone Global R&D team was accepting ideas. I listened with only half an ear because strange dots were beginning to connect in my psyche. I thought more about Mom. A lot more. Turned over all the issues I had with her and how deeply they affected my ability to trust anyone’s word in general. It was different with the girls because they accepted me at face value, even knowing so many parts of my heart remained walled off. But Mac…
Had been different.
Demanded more.
He’d wanted to see everything…
And for a few insane moments, when I’d been falling apart in those orgasms for him, he’d gotten exactly what he’d demanded.
But people who saw everything turned into people who could hurt me. Deeply.
Was that why I was so hesitant to trust anything about his move here? Especially because he’d kept it from me until now?
My stomach suddenly felt like it was choreographing a strip tease to Versace on the Floor, though I still tried to cram my veggie sandwich down. But by the time Bruno was singing “let’s just kiss till we’re naked,” the squaw bread the chef had so artfully trimmed into tiny triangles threatened a repeat performance at the lunch table.
Damn it.
My mom’s history would haunt me for the rest of my life if I didn’t get a grip on myself. I knew, in all practicality, that her choices had been, and still were, hers alone. They didn’t dictate that I would make the same mistakes—but my own life had started to show the same stupid patterns, and that terrified me. I seemed to have a loser magnet buried somewhere deep within myself, and a guy who seemed perfectly normal at the onset of a relationship ended up being a useless, jobless leech within months of me making a commitment to him.
Okay, but Mac Stone was far from a loser.
But there was baggage there, nonetheless. Freight I couldn’t ignore. The mother that Claire had mentioned was a major red flag. Second, he’d just waved goodbye to a lucrative career in Chicago—because of what? Did he want to work on his tan driving a convertible up and down PCH on a regular basis? Not exactly a picture of stability, and the dude was still decades away from a significant midlife crisis.
But as long as I was on the subject of his cars…what about the whole racing thing? While that scene seemed thrilling and sexy, it was also dangerous and possibly irresponsible—at the very least, reckless. What kind of husband and eventual father would he make if he didn’t respect his own safety?
Whoa. Hello.
Cart before the horse, anyone?
“Are you even listening?” Margaux looked at me, frustration and a hint of amusement on her face.
“What?” I barked.
“Yep. Just what I thought. Not listening.”
“I am now.” Impatient scowl. “What is it?” Though if she asked me one more time if the spa sandals made her legs look doughy, I was going to cut the wench.
“I was asking if you just want to make up a reason to go back to Claire’s with her,” Margaux expounded. “Then, maybe you can happen to mosey on by the gatehouse…maybe in your cutest bik
ini or dress and sexy heels?” She giggled.
I slammed my head down on the table. “Stop!”
“Why? You haven’t heard a single word any of us just said. And we were talking about your account. For five minutes.”
“I’m sorry, you guys.” Great. Now I was whining.
“Don’t be ridiculous, honey. We’ve all been right where you are.” Claire stood up and tightened the belt on her robe. “But come on. Our massages are in ten minutes. We need to shower and be in the quiet room when they come for us. We can go back to the house from here.” She winked my way. “And maybe you will find a good excuse to wander out to the gatehouse.”
“Uh-uh.” I pouted petulantly. “There’s no way I’m going to your house. Ever again.”
We all started laughing as we walked arm in arm in arm into the locker room of the spa to enjoy a little pampering and relaxation. Maybe this was exactly what I needed. The massage could bring some much-needed clarity—and right now, I’d take every drop of the stuff I could get. I was in deep where Mac Stone was concerned, and seeing him—by accident or otherwise—was the last thing I needed.
Chapter Ten
Mac
“Can I get you anything from the cafeteria? I’m going to scoot down for a cup of coffee.”
My new nurse, Devon, popped her head into my office without knocking—a habit we’d need to break her of, but not today. I was in such a great mood, it could wait.
“Is it worth it?” I replied with a grin, hanging my stethoscope around my neck. “Or should I wait until someone makes a run to the shop on the corner?”
Devon, a curvy brunette with a killer smile and sparkling eyes, returned my smile before turning to go back out to her station. “It can get pretty busy once the clinic starts up. If you need caffeine, you may as well get used to the cafeteria. It’s not too bad. How do you take it?”
“Triple espresso. I’ll go easy since it’s right before lunch.”
“Christ. That’s going easy?” She winced at my caffeine tolerance. Med school conditions a guy pretty well.
“Rookie,” I teased as she left for the coffees.
I looked out of the window of my office, at the Pacific Ocean crashing on the shore below. The waves sent glistening sprays into the air, catching the sunlight like stars.
It was a fucking postcard.
And if it was a dream, I didn’t want to wake up.
Never again would I start my day to wind howling off Lake Michigan, to be sucked to screaming velocity between the city’s skyscrapers. I’d never listen with dread to the morning weather report, holding my breath as they spoke of the snow that had accumulated while I slept. I’d never rush into work to be debriefed on the casualties awaiting my attention, brought in from the numerous pileups on the tollway because assholes couldn’t handle the road conditions.
“Fucking paradise,” I muttered, adding a happy sigh to appease karma, just before my cell chirped with an incoming text. “The hell?” No add-on sigh this time. My cousin was the summoning party. And yeah, I’d used the verb on purpose. When Killian Stone summoned, he summoned.
Can you meet for lunch?
Clinic today. On call tomorrow. Wednesday?
He responded quickly.
Board meeting.
Thursday?
Yes. My office. Noon.
See you then.
Yep. Summoned.
He didn’t reply after that, so I figured we were on. It had shocked the hell out of me when his wife invited me to stay on their property, easing the initial chaos of the transition. I didn’t kid myself into thinking Kil and I would spend weekends barbecuing by the pool after that, but now I’d gotten a summons to the top of the golden boy’s kingdom, and maybe that meant he wanted to play nice. Maybe—gasp of gasps—the guy would even offer to introduce me around town. He seemed to know everyone between here and Santa Barbara. Maybe, like me, he’d also started to see that most of our bad blood was between our parents, not us. Maybe adulthood would bring the two of us a different energy. We could set aside the bullshit—quite possibly another by-product of my narcissistic mother—and try a relationship of our own.
Relationships felt like a good thing to be working for right now.
Wonder what Taylor’s doing.
It wasn’t a leap to connect those two thoughts—though the woman was no more than two links away from any of my thoughts these days. Just being here brought her closer to my psyche. The very air seeming to bring hints of her delicious scent. I saw her eyes in the vast blue sky and heard her laughter in the music of the sea.
She was in my fucking blood…
But she still wouldn’t answer my text messages or phone calls.
A few more ignored attempts, and I resolved to plant myself on her damned doorstep. I wasn’t above doing it. Hell, Claire had come home from a spa day with a few of her girlfriends the other day, and I’d peered at them from my window like a first-rate stalker, sure I’d heard Taylor’s voice among them. But then they’d disappeared into the main house, vanishing too quickly to give me certain confirmation. For the next twenty minutes, I’d racked my brain for a viable reason to go to the main house but had ended up hiding in the dark like a pussy—and then fantasizing about hers while jacking off under a cold shower.
Loser.
Wait. Make that obsessed loser.
It was official. I hadn’t felt this ass-over-teakettle about a girl since grade school. Maybe not even then.
“Here’s your rocket fuel.”
I jumped about a foot out of my chair when Devon barged into my office with my espresso. How long was I out in the land of Taylor Mathews daydreams this time?
“Annnd maybe you don’t need the nuclear juice after all.”
I shook my head, managing to blurt, “Huh?”
“Gosh. Sorry, dude.” She slid over one of my leather BMW coasters and set the coffee on it. “Guess I should’ve knocked.” At least she had the decency to look embarrassed now.
“Yes, please. I’d appreciate if you would get in the habit of it. Even if my door is open slightly. I tend to get lost in thought.” I barked more than I meant to, but the request would stick at least—and to be honest, it was best she knew this shit about me upfront. When the ping-pong balls were set free, God knew where my mind could bounce.
“I see that. Sorry, really. I didn’t mean to startle you or to be rude.”
“You weren’t. Neither of those.” I didn’t really mean it, and she was smart enough to know that, but something had to be said, because now she was nervous to the point of blotchy, and I felt like the dick I was known for being. Only why did that idea suddenly chafe in a dozen ways? I was used to the arrogant asshole shoes. I’d proudly, painstakingly worn them in and had even been comfortable in them, all too okay with letting people worry about their own damn insecurities if they couldn’t keep up with me.
But now, somebody could keep up with me. Was even besting me. Or at least she had…
“It’s fine,” I followed up in a rush to Devon. “Everything’s fine. Don’t stress. That’s my job today, right?”
“Oh, stawwwp.” Her blotches faded, becoming a pretty enough blush. Nothing like the roses that could tint Taylor’s incredible skin, but I was glad she no longer looked ready to plunge into the waves outside and never come back.
“Well, thank you for the—errr—rocket fuel.” I glanced at my watch. Clinic started in fifteen minutes. I grabbed my white coat and espresso and motioned for her to lead the way. “So shall we? After you, please.”
“Of course,” she replied. “And don’t be nervous. You’ll be great.”
I indulged a laugh. “I can do this shit in my sleep. I just still have a lot of loose ends from the move.”
“Hmmm. Anything I can help you with?” She glanced back over her shoulder while we walked. I couldn’t tell if she was genuinely nice or pushing the edge of personal boundaries.
“Nope, it’s all stuff I need to handle on my own. Thanks, thoug
h.”
“Well, just give a holler if you change your mind. Glad to be of service. I remember what it was like when I first moved here. Didn’t really know anyone…” She sighed. “It was a bit lonely.”
She didn’t add any more glances to that one, which enforced my impression. Yep. Pushing the edge.
“Soooo…this’ll be your clinic office. You can use that computer and log in to the hospital’s system with the login and password HR gave you. The patient roster for the day will be loaded in the menu screen that comes up after you log in. If you need help, just find me. I’ll do the vitals and the intake, and then patients will be ready for you. Pretty basic stuff.”
“Yep.” I made it noncommittal. “Basic drill.” In my sleep, remember?
“I’ll go bring the first one back.” She lingered in the doorway, not-so-subtly taking me in, clearly trying to decide if I’d be captivated more by professional crispness or a friendly, flirty edge. I pretended to check something on my phone, hoping she’d understand the answer was neither. “You all ready?”
“Let’s do it.”
She left the small office, leaving me with a few empty minutes with my phone still in hand. Like the smitten sap I was, I decided there was no better time to attempt texting with Taylor one last time before the day’s rat race began. On the other hand, was there ever a wrong time to keep trying?
I’d never stop trying.
Thinking of you, I tapped in but then hesitated, my thumb hovering over the keypad. And then I added to it and hit Send.
Thinking of you. In fact, all I do is think about you.
What the fuck—wasn’t like I’d have time to wallow in regrets about it.
Please answer me, sassy.
“Well, that makes it official,” I muttered while switching the device to vibrate and sliding it into the big pocket of my white coat. “You’re officially whipped cream, asshole.”