Dirty Deeds (Mechanics of Love #3)

by Megan Erickson

  “He’s a boy, yes,” Delilah said. “But he’s not . . . you know . . . a boy. I’m asking Alex about her job.”

  Jenna raised her eyebrows.

  Delilah threw up her hands. “Don’t look at me like that.”

  “I’m not looking at you like anything. I just think that was a sneaky way to ask about a boy. I’m disappointed in you, Delilah.” Jenna wiped away an imaginary tear.

  “I’m not interested in Gabe,” Delilah said through gritted teeth. “He’s like, a teenager.”

  “He’s twenty-two.”

  “Too young for me.”

  “You’re thirty, not seventy-five.”

  Delilah stared at her drink and crossed her arms over her chest. “I like them older, okay? More experienced.”

  “Don’t pout,” Jenna said.

  “He is kind of cute,” Ivy said.

  Delilah glared. “I don’t go for cute.”

  Alex smacked her palm on the table. “There are no boys, and there is no fighting on girls’ night out.”

  Delilah ducked her head, Jenna picked at her nails, and Ivy nodded as she said, “Except when they are our designated drivers and pick us up.”

  Alex snorted. “Yeah, except for that.”

  Ivy smiled, Delilah and Jenna started giggling, and then Alex joined in until they started getting looks from other customers.

  An hour later, they were all sufficiently drunk. Delilah and Alex were hiding out in a booth. Delilah had pulled her sunglasses over her eyes, so Alex wasn’t sure how she could see. And she sipped her water slowly from a straw.

  At least, Alex thought it was water. It could have been vodka.

  “I like his handwriting,” Delilah mumbled.

  “Who?” Alex asked, craning her neck around the bar.

  Delilah smacked her arm. “He’s not here.”

  “Who?” Alex asked again.

  “Davis.”

  Alex was starting to think it was vodka, and her mouth opened in an O. Davis was Brent’s neighbor, a former firefighter who was now in a wheelchair after an accident at work. Alex liked him; he was gruff and no-nonsense and fit well into the family. She didn’t, however, think Delilah had even noticed the guy, let alone what his handwriting looked like.

  “When did you see his handwriting?” She didn’t bother reminding Delilah it was girls’ night out and they weren’t supposed to talk about boys.

  Delilah rattled her drink. “He came into the shop, looking for a present for his sister. He wanted something a specific style, and I couldn’t figure out what he meant so he drew it. With words. I got a little turned on.”

  Yep, it was vodka. “You got turned on by a guy’s handwriting? Am I hearing this right?”

  “It was all soft lines and capital letters and hot, okay? Shut up. Quit judging me.”

  “I’m not judging—”

  “I don’t know. Whatever. He thinks I’m a shallow flake.”

  Alex was going to protest, but then decided not to. Maybe Davis did think that. She barely talked to the guy.

  “Why couldn’t his handwriting suck? Look like a preschooler’s? Then I wouldn’t have conflicting feelings.”

  Alex was having trouble following this conversation. “Are you attracted to his handwriting or him?”

  Delilah rolled her eyes. “Him too, of course. And his voice. And sometimes his eyes when he’s not scowling. Oh, who am I kidding? I love when he scowls.”

  “Does he know you . . . think this about him?”

  “Hell no.” Delilah violently turned in her chair to face Alex. “Everything I said just now was in a cone of silence. I meant to declare that first but then I forgot. So. Retroactive cone of silence.” She made a weird hand motion around them, like she was encasing them in something.

  Alex wondered at this point who was more drunk, because she was nodding vigorously in agreement.

  And then she started thinking about how she hadn’t seen Spencer’s handwriting. Then she started thinking about his hands again, and his voice, and that magnificent ass.

  Shit, why was she thinking about Spencer? “I need a drink.”

  “Me too,” Delilah said, draining her glass. “But first, tell me about the British guy.”

  Alex’s body stiffened. “What?”

  Delilah pushed out her lips. “Shit.”

  Alex elbowed her. “How do you know about the British guy?”

  “I noticed Ivy giving this British guy in our store the cold shoulder. He was hot too, so I asked her what the hell that was about. And she told me you two hooked up.”

  Alex knew her hackles were raised, but she wasn’t sure why. In the past, when she’d found a hookup for a night, she never kept it secret, like it was shameful. She was up-front about it to her friends. So Ivy telling Delilah that Alex had hooked up with the guy shouldn’t have mattered.

  Not at all.

  So why did it?

  “Why was she giving him the cold shoulder?”

  Delilah didn’t meet her eyes. “Uh . . . ”

  There would be no reason for Ivy to do that, unless Spencer had adopted his snobby attitude. Which wasn’t unlikely. “Did he say something?”

  Delilah pretended not to hear her question.

  “Look, I’ll never see him again, so it’s not a big deal. Just tell me what happened.” She should get up and walk away. Why did she give a shit?

  Delilah turned to her. “He was buying a necklace. For a friend.” She said the last word with her fingers crooked in air quotes.

  Alex swallowed, and she gripped the bench so hard, her fingers went numb. “Okay.”

  “Shit, I have a big mouth,” Delilah said. “I’m sorry, I—”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Alex hadn’t seen a ring. The knowledge she could be an “other woman” sat like acid in her gut, but she couldn’t do anything about it now. She hadn’t seduced him. That had been a team effort, what they did. “Okay, I’m going to go get that drink now.”

  Delilah placed a hand on her arm. “Are you mad?”

  “Why would I be mad?”

  She shrugged.

  Alex shook her head. “No, not mad. Just . . . really thirsty, okay?”

  Delilah bit her lip and nodded. Alex rose and walked to the bar, with one purpose in mind: to get really drunk and forget all about stupid Spencer.

  “I’M SORRY?” SPENCER leaned forward in his chair and cocked his head. “What did you say?”

  Richard Moore, CEO of Royalty Suites, repeated himself, speaking slower this time. “You weren’t the only one in Tory, Maryland, evaluating a location for a new hotel.”

  Spencer blinked. “I’m still confused.”

  “Look, Spencer, as you know, Cody Aldridge is stepping down as head of the new development team. And you applied.”

  Spencer was unsure what that had to do with Tory. “Okay.”

  “Well, you aren’t the only one who wants the job. The other employee who I think is as capable as you applied as well. So we sent Nick Paultino to Tory a couple of weeks ago as well, and he submitted his own report.”

  Spencer’s stomach twisted painfully in his gut. “You . . . we’re essentially competing?”

  Richard nodded. “Yes, we will be evaluating both reports. Yes, your previous job history speaks for itself, but we also wanted something where we could compare you directly.”

  Spencer didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.

  “I’m sorry if you feel—”

  “Duped?” Spencer said, speaking through gritted teeth as he gazed at the New York City skyline out the window behind his boss’s desk.

  The man sighed. “This is tough for me, Spencer. I’ve known you since you were a freshman in college. And Nick is my . . . son-in-law. I have to make sure I’m making an unbiased decision here.”

  Spencer fisted his hands on his thighs and willed himself to keep his face impassive. Penny, as the vice president, would have known. She would have known that her father was deciding between Spencer and her
own husband for this job.

  She hadn’t said a word.

  Objectively, Spencer knew she wouldn’t have been able to, but she was his best friend, dammit. Although, he had to admit, Nick—as her husband—would likely be more furious.

  They could use some new blood among the higher-ups at Royalty.

  “Spencer?”

  He got himself under control enough to meet his boss’s eyes. “Yes?”

  “Are you still interested in the job?”

  It would mean a little less traveling, and it would be a raise. And really . . . wasn’t that what Spencer was supposed to do? Keep moving up in his company. He should want the better, higher-paying job, right?

  So he nodded. “Yes.”

  Richard drummed his fingers on his desk. “We’ll be taking a look at your reports. It’s possible we’ll send you back to Tory if we need further information.”

  Spencer tamped down the flare of alarm. “Sure.”

  The man nodded. “Great, then that’s all I need from you today. Any questions?”

  “Not at this time.”

  Richard smiled tightly at him, in the cool professional way he had.

  Spencer walked back to his office quickly, thankful it was the end of the day because all he wanted to do was go back to his apartment and be alone.

  Except when he got to his office to gather his things, Penny was there.

  And for once, she looked less than put together. Her blonde hair was a little tousled, her pink lipstick on her teeth from where she bit her lip. “Spencer.”

  He gathered his suit jacket from the back of his chair and slipped his arms into it. “Pen.”

  “Are you mad at me?”

  He wasn’t. He understood he didn’t have the right to be. “Frustrated? Yes, but not at you. Definitely not mad.”

  “Nick’s kinda mad.”

  He pressed his lips together to prevent himself from saying less than desirable things about Nick. He didn’t keep much from Penny, but his complete disdain for her second husband was one of them. Well, she knew he wasn’t fond of Nick, but she wasn’t aware how deep his irritation went.

  She sighed. “You want to say something mean about Nick, don’t you?”

  Spencer dropped his bag onto his desk and slipped his laptop into it. “I said it in my head.”

  She laughed softly at that. He looked up at her and grinned.

  Penny had been one of the first people he’d met as a fish-out-of-water freshman at NYU. He’d come over on a student visa, with a thick Manchester accent and no money. Penelope Moore had been outgoing and friendly and immediately reeled him in with her charming hook once they realized they had most of the same classes.

  They’d never dated. They’d never even kissed. They’d hugged when they graduated and when Penny divorced her first husband, but she’d always been a friend. She was beautiful, and Spencer cared about her more than he cared for just about anyone other than his father. But they’d never been compelled to take their friendship in the direction of a nonplatonic relationship.

  Maybe because Spencer didn’t do relationships. Or maybe because he’d always been so scared of messing up the one real friendship in his life.

  Either way, it didn’t matter.

  “Claudia loves the necklace you bought,” Penny said. “Thanks for that.”

  He smiled. He was fond of her children, an older girl and a younger boy from her first marriage. “Of course, happy to do it.”

  She tapped her pink-tipped fingernails on his desk. “We’ll have to visit the shop if we go back.”

  Spencer ducked his head, fiddling with the clasp of his bag. He hadn’t told Penny about . . . well, about Alex. He could barely even believe it had happened himself, like it was all one giant hallucination.

  Except alone, in his apartment, he could do nothing but think about Alex. About her body and the way she talked and the way she moaned when he was inside her.

  Shit, he was going to get hard in his office in front of Penny.

  He sniffed and hauled his bag over his shoulder. “Sure, Pen.”

  “So, I’m sorry but obviously I couldn’t tell either of you.”

  “I know.”

  “And Nick already thinks . . . ”

  “That he’s competing with me for your affections?” Spencer asked.

  She fiddled with her ring. “It’s a new marriage—”

  “Five years isn’t that new—”

  “And he’s threatened about the fact that you came first.”

  “He should get over it,” Spencer said, leading her out his office door as he turned out the lights.

  “I know,” Penny said, walking beside him through Royalty Suites’ mostly empty headquarters. “But you know how he gets.”

  He huffed under his breath.

  She smacked him. “Stop.”

  As they walked, he thought again of his meeting with his boss. “Have you seen Nick’s report?”

  She shook her head.

  He frowned at the floor, running the other locations in Tory through his head. There weren’t many. There was the one Spencer was recommending. Then the one by the old lumberyard. Then . . . the one near Payton and Sons. Spencer took a deep breath so he didn’t work himself into a frenzy. What if Nick chose that one? There’d been some attractive traits about it. But they’d probably have to work to buy some of the auto shop’s land . . . or all of it.

  Alex, despite sleeping with him, thought he was a posh asshole. What would she think if he swooped in after shagging her and tried to take her business out from under her feet?

  She’d hate him.

  He shook his head and pressed the button for the lift. Penny was still standing next to him, lost in thought herself. She shook her head. “Anyway, you want company tonight? You can come over and we’ll all get pizza.”

  “I’m sure I’m the last person Nick wants to see today.”

  “He can separate my friend from his work colleague.”

  Spencer raised an eyebrow.

  “Okay, maybe not,” Penny muttered.

  Spencer bumped her with his shoulder. “You have a nice night with your husband.”

  “Penny,” a voice called.

  They turned around to see Nick standing in the hallway, a frown on his face.

  Spencer took a step away from Penny, then cursed himself for his reaction, because he shouldn’t feel guilty for talking to his friend. He hated Nick a little for that.

  Nick was blond and blue-eyed—an attractive man who’d wooed Penny after he was hired at Royalty. Spencer could tell he loved her very much, but sometimes his possessiveness and competitiveness was off-putting. Penny chalked it up to alpha males butting heads in the workplace, but Spencer thought it ran a little deeper than that.

  Just because Nick was married to Penny didn’t mean Spencer had to like the guy, who always seemed to try too hard. He went out of his way to buy Penny elaborate gifts and flowers. He kissed his father-in-law’s ass so hard, Spencer was surprised his lips weren’t in a permanent pucker.

  Spencer sometimes wondered what Nick did for himself, or if he just spent his entire life trying to impress others.

  And it seemed Nick knew Spencer didn’t care for him, and returned the sentiment.

  Spencer lifted his hand as the door to the lift opened with a ding. Nick didn’t move and Penny waved as she walked backward toward her husband. “Have a good weekend, Spencer!” she called.

  He grunted as the doors closed.

  BACK IN HIS apartment, Spencer quickly undressed and slipped on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. He found leftover Chinese food in the fridge and heated it up in the microwave, then ate sitting on his couch, watching the news.

  It’d been about a week since he came back from Tory.

  A week since he’d worked very, very hard to forget about Alex.

  But he couldn’t, especially when he looked at his keys every day and saw that damn keychain that he refused to get rid of.

  His hook
ups with women had dwindled the older he got. He was set in his ways now and accustomed to being on his own. Penny had told him to use a dating app, but they were all either too focused on hookups or too . . . desperate. Either way, they didn’t work for him, despite their happy pictures of smiling couples.

  Before Alex, it’d been . . . God, too long since he’d been with a woman. Maybe that was why his head was spinning, why he couldn’t forget about her.

  He needed to, though. He was up for a promotion, one that he’d had his eye on since before Cody ever announced his retirement.

  He walked to his kitchen to wash his plate and load it in the dishwasher.

  A maid came in twice a week and cleaned his apartment. He wasn’t here much anyway, so the biweekly cleaning left it rather sparkling. His black countertops gleamed. His tiled floor sparkled.

  He ran his bare foot over the floor as he leaned back on his kitchen island.

  He wondered where Alex lived, what she did in her spare time. She clearly had a loving sister, a niece, men she worked with who cared about her.

  He hadn’t been surrounded by family like that . . . well, ever. He’d grown up with a distant, workaholic father. His mother had died when he was ten, so his life had been a small flat in Manchester while his father worked on cars all day, then came home and drank beer all night. Spencer guessed he parented as best as he could.

  His relationship with Penny had been rocky at first as Spencer wasn’t quite sure . . . how to do it. The friend thing. The I rely on you and you can rely on me thing. Which was why he was loath to expand his circle wider. It’d taken years to get his friendship with Penny to this point.

  He wondered, though, what kind of friend Alex was. What kind of girlfriend. How would it feel to be loved by her?

  He shook his head and pushed off the island. He should just go to bed. This wallowing and thinking was just putting him in a shitty mood.

  And he really, really needed to get Alex out of his head.

  Chapter Five

  Two weeks later . . .

  PENNY STOOD IN the parking lot of the Tory Inn, hands on her hips. Her nose wrinkled as she gazed up at the hotel. “Not a Royalty Suites, is it?”

  Spencer rolled his eyes as he hauled his suitcase out of the boot of his car. “Don’t expect chocolates on your pillow.”