by Trace, Piper
“No, of course not. It’s just…” How could she explain her need to sleep behind a locked door? She flicked her eyes to Charley, who watched the discussion with interest. Moving closer, she lowered her voice. “Could we talk about it alone. Please.” She squeezed her hands together against the urge to squirm, shifting so her back was to Charley.
“No.” Ford put a hand on her shoulder and twisted her to face Charley. “Now tell me why you require a lock. You can say it in front of Charley. I want you to feel comfortable around him.”
Evie’s stomach sank. She’d thought she’d moved in with Ford. How much was she going to have to put up with this other man who seemed to hate her? She regarded Charley with the same disdain he was showing her and spoke through clenched teeth. “I just feel safer if I sleep behind a lock.” She looked at Ford. “It’s not you. It’s the way I’ve always been,” she said weakly, knowing it sounded implausible.
Ford’s jaw clenched. “That wasn’t part of the plan. I do not want that door locked.” He jabbed a stiff finger toward it.
Plan?
“But…” Evie flicked her eyes to Charley, who was frowning at her. Anxiety closed her throat and her eyes burned. This could be a deal-breaker. She wasn’t sure she could compromise on it, no matter what the cost. “I don’t think I can sleep without a lock,” she said quietly, trying to control the tightness in her voice. She touched his arm, imploring silently.
He studied her face. “You’re not afraid of me?” She shook her head. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.” She didn’t hesitate in her answer and it was the truth, she was surprised to realize. For a moment, he didn’t speak. His green eyes pierced into hers as she clasped and unclasped her hands, her palms wet with sweat.
“Alright.”
She took a deep breath, finally able to fill her lungs again.
“Tomorrow I’ll have a locksmith come and install any type of lock you want, up to and including a bank-vault door if that’s what you need, but—“ He held up a finger. “You must make a concession for me.”
“What?” she asked, her tone guarded.
“You will get three copies of the key. One for you, one for me and one for Charley.”
“Charley!” She glared over at the man Ford wouldn’t let her be free of. Charley met her eyes and lifted a shoulder as if to say, “I have no idea why I’d need a key.”
“Yes, Charley too. Those are my terms. Otherwise the current lock stays.”
She closed her eyes. She had to have that lock. “Fine,” she muttered. “But he—” she poked a finger at Charley, “—had better never use his key unless this room is on fire and I’m trapped in here!”
“Don’t worry, honey. I wouldn’t even use it then.” Charley cocked his head, an easy smile cutting across his face. Evie made a disgusted noise, crossing her arms over her chest.
“Well then.” Ford smacked his hands together. “Look at the two of you. I can already tell you’re well on your way to being…BFF’s. Is that what they call it?” Ford’s dimples punctuated his teasing.
Charley and Evie both huffed, but the message underneath was clear. Ford expected them to make an effort to get along while he was out. “I’ll see you both later for dinner and you can give me a full rundown of the day you spent together.” Nodding to each of them on his way out the door, he pressed the lock in firmly before winking and closing it behind him.
The door clicked shut and Evie and Charley turned a slow stare at each other, bristling. Charley stepped toward her, his long legs eating the distance in just a few strides. She held her ground against the assault on her personal space and glared up at him. She may have been tiny next to him, but she wasn’t going to allow herself believe that. She squared her shoulders.
“So what’s your agenda?” he demanded, venom in his voice.
“Agenda? I don’t have an agenda! He asked me to come here.”
“Everyone has an agenda when it comes to Ford. Why do you think I’m the only person he lets in?”
Raising her eyebrows, Evie swept her gaze meaningfully over the room—her room—and then back to him, allowing the silence to say it all.
The fire she saw in Charley’s brown eyes turned to ferocity as he spit out his next words. “So, have you fucked him?”
Wow. Right to the point.
“No. Have you?” she blurted in response.
He rocked back, eyes wide, seeming caught off guard that she’d asked him that. She kept her face carefully set, though she was just as surprised as he was that it had come out of her mouth. Uncrossing his arms, he shoved his hands in the back pockets of his worn jeans, his shoulders rounding in the slight way she’d noticed before.
“No,” he muttered before turning away and retreating to the window, effectively ending the confrontation.
Evie squeezed her eyes closed and took a deep breath. There was that feeling again—like she was sorry for defending herself against his attack. He just seemed so vulnerable.
She retrieved the computer from the dresser and flopped on the bed, determined to ignore him. Just because he was there, didn’t mean she had to engage with him. Heavy silence stretched through the room, punctuated now and then with her clicks and keyboard strokes.
After a while, Charley clomped around the perimeter of the room, the sound of his motorcycle boots thumping through her head like a hammer as his footfalls struck her glowing hardwood floor. She lifted her eyes when his steps halted near her dresser, and watched him pick up a few of the dainty decorations there before callously tossing them back down.
She squeezed her hands into fists. Those were her new things. Nicer things than she’d ever had. He was baiting her and he’d just about won when he picked up two china balls in pearlized colors from a decorative plate full of them and lay down on the rug on his back. His frame spanned nearly from one edge of the rug to the other.
Resting one oversized boot on his other bent knee, he starting tossing the balls into the air, one at a time, and catching them deftly. She could live with that—she had a plate full of them.
He was big, but lean, and she could see what looked like every muscle of his chest through the thin tee-shirt he wore stretched over his torso. The shirt had ridden up and she could see the cords of a fine abdomen split with a trail of dark hair that disappeared under the top button of his button-fly jeans.
She knew they were button-fly, because whatever he was boasting in them caused enough pressure on the placket to gap it so the edges of the shiny buttons were visible. The chrome winked to her under the lights of the room’s modern fixture.
Chewing on the inside of her lip, she thought about how good he looked. Especially sprawled out like that in his rough-and-tumble clothes on her fancy rug, like some kind of a yard-boy sacrifice to a rich cougar. The corners of her mouth twitched at the thought.
He cleared his throat and she flicked her eyes to his face. He was watching her, a smirk curled across his mouth. With horror, she realized he’d caught her staring at—oh god, her insides shrank—his…package.
“Don’t break my balls,” she muttered, trying to deflect.
“Don’t stare at mine,” he drawled.
Pinning her eyes back to the computer, she felt her face turn scarlet-hot. She ducked her head behind the laptop screen, trying to pretend he wasn’t there. But she had no luck. The man’s presence filled a room to the seams, and her skin pricked with the sense that she had nowhere to retreat from him.
She blew out her breath. “Why don’t you just leave?”
“Because he wants us to spend the day together,” he answered simply.
“Do you do everything he wants?”
He didn’t answer right away, and she heard the smack, smack of the balls landing on his paw of a hand three more times before his response came, simple and cutting.
“Don’t you?”
She didn’t answer the question either.
Determined to not let him ruin her day, she focused on her shoppi
ng spree, which was proving to be more challenging than enjoyable. She was finding things she liked, but she couldn’t decide if Ford would like them. Short of buying lingerie, she wasn’t sure what type of clothing he liked on a woman. And she wasn’t just following orders—she wanted Ford to like what she wore.
Charley stopped tossing the balls and lay flat on his back on the rug, his hands tucked behind his head and his eyes closed. After fifteen minutes of silence, Evie assumed he’d fallen asleep, and his lack of consciousness finally eased the pressure of their silent standoff.
After browsing through fifteen pages of dresses on one site—a site she’d always wished she could afford to shop on—she growled in frustration and scrubbed her hands over her eyes. How could she get this done? She had no idea what Ford liked. He’d always commented more on her body than on the clothes she wore on it.
Did he like short or tight? Classy or sexy? Bright or subdued? Pants or skirts? Well, she could probably at least guess that one.
“Having trouble?” Evie jumped and heard Charley chuckle. She slid the laptop sideways and saw that he’d turned to his side, propping his head on one bent arm and looking like he’d never been more content.
Damn, as surly as the guy was, he looked delicious. “Yes,” she snapped.
He stood up, placed the china balls back on the decorative plate and stretched.
Hello, abs.
She tried not to look, but there was just so much of him to ignore. He twisted his body, broadening his back, and the position granted her an eyebrow-raising view of a divine backside cupped in faded denim.
It was no wonder he always shoved his hands in his back pockets. Who wouldn’t want to grab an ass like that? She focused back on the computer before he could catch her checking him out again.
He wandered over to the bed. “What’s the problem?” His tone sounded neutral and she looked up at him, deciding to answer him when she read nothing but supreme boredom in his body language. They were stuck with each other. Might as well make the best of it. And maybe he could help.
She pointed to the page of stylish dresses on her computer screen. “I don’t know Ford’s taste.”
Charley rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, eyes unfocused. When he answered, his voice was heavy with emotion far out of proportion with her shopping dilemma.
“You, apparently.” He sighed closing his eyes.
“What?”
“His taste. It’s you, I guess.” He opened his eyes and met hers, and her stomach twisted at what she saw in his look. Gut-wrenching resignation. She’d felt pain like that and she did not want to be the cause of it.
“Charley…” The reluctant note of compassion in her voice was all he needed. He sat down on the edge of her bed, staring at his hands. “Does he know how you feel about him?”
He laughed mirthlessly. “Who knows? With Ford you can’t tell if he’s really not picking up on it, or if he’s purposely ignoring it.”
“But…” How should she say this? “Would he even be…open to that kind of thing?”
“I think so. Maybe. We…” He shook his head and trailed off, looking out the window.
We what?
This was a side of Ford Evie would not have suspected. It might have freaked her out, except that Charley had such a natural appeal to him, much like Ford did, that Evie could imagine most any human being willing to try out what Charley had to offer.
The big man was handsome, not in the pure way Ford was, but in an unpolished, wild way. He had an energy that seemed to swirl about him, a charisma. But unlike Ford’s crystal shell of confidence, Charley had a readable sensitivity, his body and the set of his jaw clearly reflecting his response to the world around him. Evie felt for him. How difficult would it be to go through life being such an open book?
“Well, if it’s any consolation, he doesn’t want to be my boyfriend either. He made that perfectly clear.”
Charley looked at her and his eyes seemed to be searching for the cruelty behind her mocking. She made sure he found none.
She’d never had a man as a rival for another man’s affections before, but this thing with Ford was so confusing that more so than a rival, she saw in Charley the only other person in the world who maybe understood how she felt.
A heart-achingly beautiful, sad smile graced Charley’s face and he lowered his eyes, peeking at her through his lashes. “You are very pretty. But you’re not like the others. That’s what freaked me out the most.”
“The others?”
“Ford goes out. He dates—I suppose as much as you could call it dating. He makes a social effort—let’s call it that.” Charley shifted on the bed and pulled one leg up on it, facing her. Just two girlfriends musing about the boy they were crushing on…if your girlfriend were a six foot four hunk of a man who oozed sex and sin all over your brand new duvet.
“He’s always with some woman or another, and those women are always two things —” He ticked them off on his fingers. “Women who make good business allies or women who look like runway models.”
“And I’m neither of those things?” she asked dryly. While she agreed, this didn’t seem a nice thing for him to point out.
“No, that’s not—! Sorry.” His easy smile lit his brown eyes with the warmth she’d seen promised there earlier. “You’re just… I mean look at you.” He gestured toward her body. “You’re not a fashion-model. A skinny mannequin. You’re all curvy. You’re like a walking promise of sex.”
Evie looked down at her body as if there was a sign on her front she hadn’t noticed before.
“And you’re a lot shorter than them. It just threw me. It felt like Ford had made a serious change and I’d been left out of the conversation.”
She opened her mouth, hesitating as she picked her words. “I don’t know if you just insulted me or complimented me.”
“It’s a compliment. Trust me. I have never, ever felt jealous of anyone in Ford’s life until I walked into this room today and was confronted with you.” Charley’s lips pulled into a frown.
“There’s no need to be jealous of me. You’re his best friend. I’m just an employee.”
Charley nodded with his eyes narrowed, as if he were trying to believe that.
“You knew I was moving in, right?” she asked.
“Yes, I knew, but you’re just not what I pictured. Ford doesn’t get close to people. I wasn’t worried at first.”
“And now you’re worried?”
Charley took a deep breath. “Now I’m worried.” He was as open with his feelings as Ford was closed tight.
“Well don’t be. This is a business arrangement. There will be no relationship. And when the year is up, I’m gone. I’ve got plans—plans that involve being far away from this state.”
“You sound very sure of that.”
“I am sure.” She had to be at least a thousand miles from this state before she might be able to stop living in fear, even after she paid John everything she owed him.
Charley nodded, but his face looked dubious.
“Maybe I can help you.” She put her hand on his knee.
“How?”
“I’m not here for the long term. Maybe I can plant the seed for you.” And if she could concentrate on bringing Ford and Charley together, maybe she could better control her feelings for Ford. “Maybe I can even…I don’t know…help make the both of you feel more comfortable about coming together.”
Charley narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to give her a look of disbelief. It was no stronger than the disbelief she was already feeling for having made the suggestion. What did she even mean by that? Had her attraction to Charley really just caused an offer for a threesome to come out of her mouth?
No. That’s not what she’d meant. Was it?
She tried to backpedal. “I, uh—”
“That one.” Charley pointed at the computer screen.
“Huh?” Evie had forgotten she’d been unsuccessfully trying to pick out clothes. Charley
was pointing at a navy-blue, tailored shirt dress.
“Ford would like that. Make sure it hugs your body and wear it with the top four buttons undone. And heels. The higher the better.”
Evie peered at the dress. It hadn’t stood out to her. The model wearing it looked very prim in the ensemble. Evie would never have picked that one.
“Really? It looks boring. Why that one?”
“It looks boring on her, but on you?” Charley swept his eyes down her body, lingering, obviously not caring if she noticed where his gaze was concentrated. “On you it would look mouth-watering.”
“Why?” The word popped out of her mouth too quickly to stop it. She watched his eyes on her and she wanted to know what was behind the flicker she saw in them. He’d said “mouth-watering” not in the way a person would say, “pretty”. He’d said it like he understood it.
“Your tits are…well they’re not even fair. Forget those knives you carry—your tits are your concealed weapons.”
Evie laughed. “That is the strangest compliment I’ve ever received. And I’m kinda proud of what you just said.”
Charley’s crooked smile widened and he leaned forward, energy jumping off him like water on a frying pan. “Your tits are the kind a man wants in his mouth. As soon as he can make it happen. I bet you’ve never had to buy yourself a drink at a bar in your life.”
She furrowed her brow. “I’ve had to buy myself plenty of drinks. And…do you like women?”
Charley chuckled, shaking his head. “See, this is why I don’t go out much. Everyone wants to label everything.” He met her eyes again. “I love women. In every way. I just don’t draw lines. A sexy person with the right chemistry is who I want in my bed. The equipment’s not important. The person is.” His grin turned wicked. “And man or woman, no one’s getting out of my bed before they’re thoroughly satisfied.” He winked.
She felt her skin heat. Forget what he’d said about her body. He was the promise of exciting sin, the kind you’ve never tried before but always wanted to.
“You like my tits?” She couldn’t help but match his flirtation. The conversation was like reading a dirty book she wasn’t quite comfortable with—but she kept turning the pages anyway because she had to know what happened next. Her clit had perked to attention.