GRIND

by MEGAN MATTHEWS

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Definition

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY - ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY - TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY - THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY - FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY - FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY - SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY - SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY - EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY - NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY - ONE

  EPILOGUE

  Thank You

  Irrevocably Mine

  Acknowledgments -

  Grind

  The Boys of RDA #3

  By

  Megan Matthews

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author recognizes the trademarks and copyrights of all registered products and works mentioned within this work.

  Copyright ©2016 by Megan Matthews. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written person from the author. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the author at megan@authormeganmatthews.com

  Edited by Amanda Brown

  Cover Images from: depositphotos.com

  To Shambles for your love of soccer and the men who play it.

  Grind: A form of warfare where repetitive actions are required to advance.

  The Ten Commandments of the Apartment

  No pets of any kind. Even those in tanks, bowls or cages.

  No music after 9 p.m. Television viewing is okay as long as it can’t be heard in any adjoining room or the hallway.

  No unapproved paint on any apartment walls.

  No more than two additional people allowed in the apartment at any given time.

  No parking in any of the designated spaces. Parking can be found at a metered space on the street.

  No hallway adornments.

  No one besides immediate residents of the floor should be given any codes to access the floor.

  No sheer window curtains or any other fabric that does not completely block the view from outside.

  No personal relationships with the landlord.

  The apartment should be kept in an orderly fashion at all times.

  Any violation of these rules can and will result in immediate termination of the lease agreement.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Aspen slams the sheet of paper listing the ridiculous rules required to live here on the white refrigerator door, attaching it with a pink margarita-shaped magnet. I dislike the fact my favorite souvenir from our senior trip to Mexico is used to hold up the stupid agreement. It’s a special magnet with great memories attached to it. Plus, there’s an identical one on Pen’s fridge in her condo across town with Finn. They moved in together earlier this month and subleased this four-hundred and fifty square foot place to me.

  “It’s official, Marissa. The apartment is yours,” Aspen says eyeing the page-long list of rules.

  I’m blinded by curly brown hair as Pen tugs me into a tight hug. Lost in her infectious happiness, I smile as she pulls away in time for Simone to jostle me with her small jumps as we embrace. The hard work from moving and their excitement messed with my ponytail, so I pull my straight brown hair back adjusting the elastic band.

  “Your first day and you’ve already broken a rule. This should be interesting.” Finn leans against my kitchen counter before sipping from the dark glass beer bottle in his hand.

  “Huh?” his girlfriend and my best friend asks.

  “Rule number four, Aspen. No more than two visitors at a time.” Trey, the tall guy next to Finn comments while shaking his head at her bemused expression. “You lived here how long?”

  He’s irritating in the way he does it, but the man makes a good point. All total there are five of us in the cramped kitchen. Six, if you count the fact Finn’s company driver, Jake, left a few minutes ago. He helped move my few boxes from Oakland into the new Pacific Heights apartment.

  Designed as a mother-in-law suite, the large condo shares the top floor of the apartment building with a penthouse condo. My little home may be less than five hundred square feet, but it’s on the San Francisco Peninsula for $1,000 a month rent. I’d sleep in a closet for those credentials.

  Plus, it’s just plain cute. The small kitchen opens to the living room where one large window faces the street and lets in enough light to brighten the entire space. A short hallway leads to the single bedroom where I plan to spend an extra forty-five minutes sleeping in each morning since I don’t need them for my commute anymore.

  I share the key-coded floor access with the large penthouse owned by my landlord. There are two floors of regular condos below and then an additional street level with various businesses. A bookshop slash café and a few clothing stores circle the building.

  “Oh those. Don’t worry about those. I broke them constantly. The guy who owns the condo has never been here. You’re fine," Pen tries to reassure me.

  Of course she’s not worried. When Pen lived here, she shared the floor with Finnegan McRyan, billionaire video game developer. He swept her off her feet and moved her into his sprawling condo on the top floor of the Raven Digital Arts building. She won over Prince Charming and left me to live in fear of the dragon’s return.

  Condo owner, Ryland Bates, is some kind of soccer legend. He left Stanford to play for a team in England at the same time Finn and Trey dropped out to start up RDA. Roomies their first year, they became best friends, but so far Ryland’s been a no-show in San Francisco.

  “I’m not so sure. The coach kicked Ryland off the team in December. He hasn’t called any of us yet, but he might end up back here. Keep an eye out."

  Simone’s hand flies in Trey’s direction as she hits him on the arm twice. “What! You didn’t tell me?”

  Trey shrugs. “Finn knew.”

  “Finn!” Aspen sounds as upset at missing out on these new developments.

  “He hasn’t returned my calls, Aspen. No one knows where he is.” Finn tries to plead his case, but Pen gives him the squinty eyes and we both know he's about to lose this argument.

  “He’s gone off to lick his wounds. Ry’s known for his crazy behavior off the field, but I doubt he expected to be kicked off the team for a bar fight. Let's cut the guy some slack.” Trey jumps to his friend’s defense.

  “Hey, after tonight I am all about the rules. Promise.” I tap the sheet of paper on the fridge to bring everyone’s attention my way. "Now let’s open the wine and celebrate.”

  There are murmurs of agreement and Aspen opens the fridge to pull out a bottle of white wine.

  “I left it here for this exact moment,” she says with a growing smile.

  Today is a time for celebration. It’s a new year, a new apartment, and a new beginning. Let’s be honest, last year sucked. With an exposed cheater for a fiancé and a cancelled wedding
, I’m ready for better days ahead. I’m a new woman. No more tears over Cody and a lost future. A new Marissa moved into this apartment. I’m back on the dating wagon and ready to take this city by the balls…or whatever.

  An announcer shouts from the living room, and we turn our heads to the television where a presenter screams in victory over a goal in the current hockey game. Trey nudges Finn’s arm and both guys walk to the tan microfiber couch, their eyes never leaving the screen.

  “How were the holidays in New York with Trey, Simone?” Aspen asks.

  “Good. It took a few days, but Trey grew on my dad. They seemed to get along.”

  While the last year sucked for me, it doesn’t hold a candle to the year Simone had. Christmas was her first major holiday after losing her mom. I’m sure Trey being there help distract them.

  A heavy knock rattles the room and we turn toward the door.

  “I’ve got this,” I announce to the room, but the boys don’t relax.

  We haven’t been loud enough to disturb anyone on the floor below us and none of those neighbors have the code to access this floor. There’s no one it could be besides Finn’s driver, Jake, and his large lumbering form on the other side. Maybe we left a box in the company Escalade.

  I swing open the door and come face to broad chest as expected, but it isn’t Jake. This body is leaner and taller. My eyes slide up his form and stop at his chiseled square jaw. I had no idea people like this existed. A plain white t-shirt hugs his body outlining what have to be a set of wonderful pecs. In his hands he carries a medium-sized brown box, the weight causing a rather large bulge of muscles to stretch the fabric of his shirt.

  “What the hell is this?” He shoves the box at me until I’m forced to grab it. “Why the fuck are there boxes all over my hallway?” His moment of being the hottest guy in the place is lost once he opens his pretty mouth. If I’m being honest, he lost a hotness point too.

  His question stops me short, and I jerk my head back to his face and short dark brown hair. My face turns a slight shade of red from being caught ogling his arms. “Huh?” I’m not winning any awards for my intelligence today.

  Bright blue eyes squint at me in irritation. “The fucking boxes all over the damn hallway. Get them out, Aspen.”

  My mouth falls open in a lame attempt to correct him, but then I bristle at his tone. He might be hot, but he’s also an asshole.

  “Ry.” With a gentle hand, Finn pushes me to the side and takes up the doorway. “This is Marissa, your new tenant. She moved in today."

  Finn’s words don’t relax him. Ryland’s scowl is still etched on his face. It might be permanent.

  “I didn’t approve a sublease.” His eyes narrow in my direction and I step away from the door.

  Crap. I’m going to kill Aspen for this. I’ve already given up my old apartment and now I’ll end up in a cardboard box off Van Ness Street.

  Ryland nudges his wide frame through the door. With arms tightly crossed, his eyes sweep the room. “How many people are in here?”

  I turn to Aspen with a silent plea for help, but she only responds by bringing both shoulders to her ears in the longest shrug I’ve ever witnessed. Simone stands next to her with a hand over her mouth and wide eyes, which don’t help my anxiety.

  “Ry.” Trey stands behind me and I move out of the way to give him space. Better him than me when it comes to the wrath of my new neighbor. The one Pen promised I’d never see. "You haven’t called me back.”

  “I’m here aren’t I?” he responds with a smidge less irritation in his tone.

  Finn widens the door to give Trey more room. “Have you played the new update? Let’s go to your place.” He steps into the hallway with Finn right behind him, beer still in hand.

  “Whose fucking car is in one of my spaces?” I guess my cuddly landlord hasn’t finished classifying our shortcomings yet.

  “Oh, yeah, don’t worry, man. That’s mine.” Trey leans back into the apartment and casts an eye to the boxes in the hallway—a silent reminder of what started this whole mess.

  The door closes behind Trey and the three of us release a collective breath at the reduction in tension.

  “Did I mention I get to babysit Sadie Saturday?” Pen’s lame attempt to use her baby niece to change the subject reminds me how much I'm going to kill her. Later. After she gets the chance to babysit. It’s all she’s talked about for months. Ben, her brother, has taken his time in letting her.

  “Don’t worry, Marissa. A sublease will be fine, Marissa. He’s never here, Marissa,” I repeat back Aspen’s words from the last few weeks to her.

  Rather than show any guilt, her smile grows with each of my sentences. There’s no telling what’s going through her head, but I swear there are visible wheels turning. Falling in love with Finn ruined her common sense.

  “Come on. Let’s get the boxes.” I shake my head all the way to the door, too flustered to figure out what she’s thinking. “If I unpack, maybe he’ll take pity and let me stay here.”

  Aspen tugs on a piece of my brown hair and beats me out into the hallway. “Of course he’ll let you keep the place. He can’t be that big of an asshole."

  It’s another one of her promises, but this time I’m not so sure.

  CHAPTER TWO

  The wind sweeps up the street and blows my hair around behind me. I contemplate putting it up in a ponytail, but I want to look nice for this first date. A guy shouldn’t see me in sweats with my hair pulled back until at least date five. If he has potential, maybe date ten.

  Hair whips around my face again and I reach back with both hands to tame it, holding on to the ends. It’s cold in San Francisco and, while I’ll never admit this to Aspen, it might be time to upgrade my winter jacket from the thick black fleece I have on today. I'd rather not walk around ready to go on an Artic expedition like Pen, but a little more warmth wouldn’t hurt. I’m a southern California girl, even if I’ve been here almost five years now.

  I jump a few times and stomp my feet in a half attempt to warm them up. If my date isn’t here in five minutes, I’ll leave the sidewalk to wait for him inside. In order to make it here on time, I left right from work and my thin black pants offer little protection against the wind.

  “Marissa Melrose?”

  I spin around toward the voice and remind myself to smile. Guys like girls who smile, right?

  “James?” I question the blond hair, blue-eyed man in front of me.

  His squint reveals a few wrinkles in the corner of his blue eyes, but they don’t hinder his cute factor. “That’s me. Are you ready?"

  Okay, if this blind date goes well, Aspen’s off the hook for subleasing me an apartment with a crazy landlord. I’m still not over our tumultuous first meeting two days ago. I haven’t seen Ryland since the first night and Aspen assured me Finn smoothed it over. But I plan to fly under the radar until he leaves again. Soon if I’m lucky.

  I walk behind James. He must have come from work as well. Unless he’s like Cody and wears a suit to the pool. The black two-piece ensemble looks good on him, and what woman doesn’t love a man in a nice-fitting suit?

  “Don’t we need tickets?” I ask as we bypass both ticket counters.

  “No.” James stops at the back of a line for concessions. “I bought two tickets for Killers on the Loose on my lunch break.”

  “Killers on the Loose? I thought we talked about the one where the guy goes off to war leaving his true love and dog behind. Love Notes?”

  “That’s a chick flick,” he responds like I wasn’t aware of the fact when I suggested it. “Don’t worry. This is better than a war romance movie.”

  Says him. Isn’t the girl supposed to get to pick the movie on a first date? What happened to the era where guys at least faked caring for a while? Have I been out of the field too long? Cody at least pretended to enjoy the same crap I did for the first few months.

  The line moves up two people and I lose my chance to suggest another movie. Not that it
would have mattered. What guy thinks a girl wants to watch a gore fest on a first date?

  Snails move faster than our line as James regales me with tales from his work with Aspen’s sister-in-law. I’m sure he thinks he’s interesting. He's not. He stands with hands in his pockets and his elbows thrust out creating space for himself in the squished line of people. It’s a pose reminiscent of Cody and reminds me how annoyed I’d get when my ex fiancé did the same thing. Do these men think they’re too good to stand close to the person next to them? I considered this attractive at one point in my life?

  James drones on and on about interest rate spikes or something equally boring, and I pretend I’m absorbed without a single eye roll or grimace. He doesn’t once ask me about my job. Even Cody would attempt to care about my job as a marketing assistant. A simple, "How was your day?” while he stared off into space calculating the latest stock trends.

  It takes fifty years and I’ve grown three grey hairs, but we make it to the front of the line before James killed me from boredom. It’s a win.

  James approaches the counter to place our order while I linger around the candy display. The brightly colored packages call out to me, but there’s only one you can mix with popcorn.

  “Combo number two.” James slides a credit card across the smooth black counter surface.

  The glowing order board on the wall behind the counter shows one popcorn and one soda for the second combo. Ready to order my own snacks, I step to the side of James and lean over the counter.

  “A bag of M&Ms please and a…” I pause deciding how big of a popcorn I need.

  “I already ordered.”

  I flick my eyes in his direction. “There’s only one soda.”

  “Yeah, we’ll share.”

  He’s so assured with his words I’m surprised. Share a drink with someone on a first date? I don’t think so. We haven’t even kissed, but he wants me to put my lips all over his straw? I dated Cody for four years and we never shared a drink. I’m not about to start now.