Claiming His

by Bailey Rock

  Who am I kidding? I know that I’m going to wait this one out and just see what happens.

  I didn’t see that he had a wedding ring on, and I’m sure he wouldn’t be willing to go ice skating with me if he was dating someone else, right? Right? I mean, most men are pigs, but he was always different. We were friends, and for him to treat me differently would be pretty crappy.

  Suddenly I’m overcome with self-doubt. Sure, we’ve both grown up a lot since high school. But the truth of the matter is that I always wanted him when we were younger and I couldn’t have him then. Why in the world would I think that I could have him now?

  He may not be mine, not yet, but I at least want the chance to change that, and I don’t want anyone, including the doe-eyed Becky, getting in my way.

  Chapter 3

  Lance

  “Ben, are you available?” My employee looks up at me from his desk and sighs, immediately setting my teeth on edge. He does a great job making people feel like they’re a nuisance, which is probably how he made Maggie feel.

  Sometimes I wonder why I even hired him, and then I remember. When I first started this company and barely had enough money to buy a suit, I ran into him at a coffee shop when I was practicing my pitch. He overheard me and offered to help me perfect it. It worked, and I landed my first clients.

  The only thing he had asked was for me to consider giving him a job when I got my feet under me and finally had the company going. At that point, I was thrilled to hire him. He’d helped me out when I needed it the most, and I was happy to return the favor.

  Recently, though, his cocky attitude that had helped me out so much in the beginning was starting to wear on me.

  “Boss man. How can I help you?” He stretches his arms out over his head and leans back so that he can prop his feet up on his desk. It takes all of my self-control not to roll my eyes or smack his expensive shoes off of the desk.

  He’s trying to show that he’s not scared of me, but that’s fine. I’m not scared of him, either.

  “I want to talk to you about the Blue Sky Bakery property.” He motions to a chair across his desk, but I stay standing. As much as I like Ben personally, I know that if he thinks he has the upper hand in this meeting, he’ll run with it.

  I don’t want that to happen.

  “Yeah, Maggie, right? Nice girl. Her muffins this morning were delicious. I’d like to give her a taste. You know? Heh. You know, you dirty dog.”

  Ben is also completely inappropriate. Back in college I may have laughed at his humor. Hell, I would have cracked up, but now that we’re older and he’s talking about Maggie, I’m not a fan.

  When I don’t laugh, he stops smiling and sits up in his chair. “Something wrong?”

  “Yeah, the barkery. Apparently, Maggie had her eye on that property and even signed an application for it. You want to tell me why it ended up being a dog biscuit factory?”

  “Just a space issue.” He shrugged, looking nonchalant, but I had an idea that he was starting to sweat. Most people wouldn’t dream of standing up to Ben, so he’s probably quite surprised that a client would dare to complain.

  Ben is a great asset when he’s doing his job correctly, which is about 60% of the time. Objectively, he’s gorgeous, with a jaw that could cut glass and thick blonde hair that gives him a laissez-faire appearance of a surfer.

  We have plenty of clients who have fallen hard for Ben, but he won’t ever commit. He just likes to work his way through anything that has two legs and a pair of tits. I remember that Jeremy said the barkery girl is cute and I wonder if that’s why she got the better of the two pieces of property.

  “A space issue?” I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about someone based on how well they can hold your gaze and how quickly they look away when they’re uncomfortable. Ben and I have had our fair share of staring contests since I hired him a few years ago, but this is different.

  This one is about Maggie.

  “A space issue.” He looks confident.

  “Ben, what the hell? You and I both know that that’s not true. If it were a space issue, then you would have switched the properties for the two clients. You sleeping with the barkery girl?”

  “Jessica?” Ben grins and I want to punch the look off of his smug face. “Not anymore. Why? You want a go at her?”

  I nod slowly, not to answer his question, but as I realize how everything fell into place. “You’re an ass, you know that? Also, your ass is now on probation. You can’t make any offers or sign contracts without me signing off on them.”

  He starts to interject, and I cross to his desk, slamming my hands down on the surface. It makes a loud bang, and he jumps in his chair, pulling his feet off of the surface and sitting up. “Don’t fuck with me, Ben. You’re only still sitting in that chair because you have been with me since day one, but I’m perfectly willing to throw you out of it and let you land on your ass, do you understand?”

  He nods. “What is this really all about?”

  “You. Not doing the right thing for our clients.” I’m speaking to him through bared teeth, and even though I’m saying one thing, I’m thinking another. You not doing the right thing for Maggie.

  “Seems personal.”

  I’d never really believed the old adage about seeing red when you were really mad, so I’m surprised to find that it can actually happen. My vision starts to get a little fuzzy around the edges and I blink hard to clear it.

  It doesn’t help. He’s still ringed in red, like the asshole devil that he is.

  “It will be personal when I fire you if you don’t get your shit together.” With that, I turn and leave, slamming his door behind me. It feels good, even though everyone in the building turns and looks at me as the sound reverberates down the hall.

  “You okay, boss?” Jeremy pokes his head out of his office and eyes me warily. Like an antelope checking out a cheetah.

  “Yep.” I stomp down the hall to my office and carefully close the door behind me. Even though this company makes more money than I ever thought it would, I may have to replace Ben soon. I don’t want to have to replace the doors, too.

  Maggie

  There are few things in this world that bring me more pleasure than spending the early afternoon baking. I should call Lance and see if he really wants to go ice skating, but I’m busy working on a new recipe. Julie has texted me a few times, my phone buzzing on the kitchen table where I left it, but I’ve ignored it.

  It’s hard to think that things could change. It’s hard for me to think about what may have happened if it hadn’t been Ben helping me find a place for my bakery.

  Helping. Yeah, right.

  I carefully fold the dough over on itself so I can perfect the delicious flaky layers that I want in my croissant. Even though I can’t serve lunch so that people can sit down and eat, there’s no reason why I can’t serve lunch food that can be taken on the go. Ham and cheese croissants are a good place to start.

  My cat, Hemingway, twines around my ankles while I cook. He’s probably trying to trip me so that he can get some of the ham sitting on the counter. A huge Maine Coon, he’s practically a dog. I even got him a harness and a leash so that we can go on walks. Against all odds, he loves it. Also against all odds, he has all the dogs on the street completely terrified of him.

  I really should take him to the barkery. Show them what’s up. The idea of my giant cat terrorizing the stupid little dogs in there makes me smile. My phone buzzes again and I glare at it before making one more fold with my dough.

  There. Now it can rest for a moment and I’ll get the fillings prepared.

  Hemingway continues his plaintive cries while I start chopping ham and shredding cheese, and it isn’t until he dashes out of the room and runs to the front door that I realize someone is knocking on it. It’s easy to get into the zone when baking, which means that I don’t always pay attention to what’s going on around me.

  I curse and wipe my hands off on my apron. There’s flour
everywhere and I have a distinct feeling that I smell like ham, but I open the door anyway.

  “Maggie Ward, why in the world aren’t you answering my calls and texts?” Julie pushes past me and grabs Hemingway as he makes a mad dash for the open door. Ignoring his indignant yowls, she tosses him over her shoulder in a fireman’s carry and waits for me to close the door.

  “I’ve been a little busy.”

  She follows me to the kitchen after putting Hemingway down. He immediately runs back to where I was standing and stretches out on the floor, making me straddle him to keep working.

  “Too busy to make plans for our double date?”

  “Our double date?” My hair has worked its way out of my ponytail and I brush it back, leaving a streak of flour on my cheek.

  “Yes. With you and my brother and me and some yet unknown handsome beast. Or have you forgotten so soon?” Ignoring the daggers I shoot in her direction, she braces herself on the counter and jumps, spinning halfway around and then landing so her feet are hanging off the edge.

  “You’re going to break my counter.”

  “Naw, it’s tougher than you think it is, right? I mean, it withstands all of the punishment you give it when working.”

  I’m whacking my croissant dough with a rolling pin, but I stop to glare at her again.

  “Oh, come on, cut out the shit looks, Mags. I want to go on a date, and you clearly haven’t gotten over my brother. Why don’t I text him and see what he says about your lunch date?”

  “It wasn’t a date. And you won’t text him.”

  She’s already pulling out her phone. “You’re right. I’ll call him.”

  For a moment, I’m caught in indecision. I could, obviously, rip the phone from Julie and throw it into a bowl of water. That would be sure to get her attention and would stop her from calling her brother, but to what end? Piss off the best friend I have?

  My other option, and the one that I’m leaning towards, is to ignore her. I don’t even think that she’ll call him. They’ve been working hard to patch up their relationship, but I know from her that they still have a long way to go, so I’ll let her make her silly little phone call so that she feels better and then see what she has to say. The more I think about Lance, the less I think that he actually wants to spend time with me, especially with his comment about kids.

  Although it’s not like he knows the truth about me yet.

  A guy like him probably has women throwing themselves at him all the time.

  He probably could get any woman he wants.

  Sure, I was in love with him in high school, and still may harbor some feelings, but that doesn’t mean he feels the same way.

  I’m so wrapped up in my own feelings that I don’t even notice that Julie is off the phone. The ham I’m chopping, however, is in a really fine mince. Too fine. It’s almost a paste. I close my eyes and swear before scooping it into a bowl and setting it down for Hemingway.

  Merry Christmas, cat.

  “So, I talked to Lance.” Julie’s voice rips me out of my reverie and I almost cut my finger.

  “Oh?” Nonchalant. Really nonchalant. I’m sure that she can’t even tell how much I don’t even care.

  “Yep. He has an idea for me for a date.”

  “Oh?” Starting to sound a bit like a broken record here, but I don’t care, and Julie certainly doesn’t either. As long as she can daydream about this new mystery guy, I’m sure she’ll be fine with my monosyllabic answers.

  “Yep. Ian.”

  “McKellen?”

  I dodge as she throws a chunk of cheese on me, and when it hits the floor, Hemingway pounces. The mighty hunter strikes again, and before I can stop him, he has his furry tail in the air like a victory flag and is running with the cheese to the safety of his cat tree.

  “Nice.” She rolls her eyes at me, so I continue, “do you know the plan?” Even though I feel like I sound calm, my heart is pounding. Ice skating is not my forte, but I thought it would be fun since it will give me a chance to hang onto Lance if I happen to lose my balance. Not that I would let that happen on purpose, of course.

  “This weekend. You have all week to think about how much fun you’ll be having.”

  “And you have all week to think about this Ian guy,” I tell her, pointing my knife at her.

  “Can’t wait.” She hops down from my counter, a sound that brings Hemingway running back into the kitchen, probably in search of more cheese. “Well, I’m out of here. Let me know how your cheesy ham wallets do tomorrow.”

  “Seriously? Gross. They’re croissants.”

  “Whatever you say, Mags.” She hugs me from behind. “I’ll let myself out.”

  It isn’t until I hear her shut the front door that I exhale the breath I’m holding. Friday is a long time to wait until ice skating. I wonder if Lance will want to get together before then.

  He’s all I can think about as I fold and stuff the croissants, brush them with butter, and pop them in the oven. When they come out, perfectly flaky and hot 15 minutes later, I burn my tongue taking a bite.

  Cheesy ham wallets. That girl has a twisted sense of humor, but these are delicious. I’ll be making some in the morning to see how they’ll sell. I just won’t call them that.

  Chapter 4

  Lance

  After the debacle with Ben and Maggie I decide to spend a little more time working one on one with our clients. This means that my secretary will have more work to do in my absence, but getting out of the office and actually being able to help clients rather than just overseeing all of the moving parts appeals to me.

  Additionally, I’m hopeful that I can help some of our clients avoid the same problems that Maggie is running into. Although after spending the morning with a client looking for a retail space for their new cat boutique, I’m beginning to wonder what I got myself into.

  The first place I took them didn’t have enough windows for natural light.

  The second? Too many stairs. Cat owners apparently don’t like stairs.

  Finally, by the fifth stop, I think that I have them figured out. They want something small and cozy with plenty of light. I know just the spot, and it happens to be across the street from Maggie’s hated barkery.

  The clients promise to call me in the morning and I decide to stop into the barkery to see what’s going on there. Before I can even get to the front door, the smell of peanut butter hits me full in the face.

  Dogs must like peanut butter more than I would have thought.

  I push open the door and am immediately greeted by the shop dog, who is wearing a tie-dyed bandana with the name “Chunk” embroidered on it. Nice.

  “Hey, I’m Jessica, how can I help you?”

  A thin girl a bit younger than me walks from behind the counter where she was icing a bunch of fresh dog bones. I wasn’t aware that dogs could eat icing, but obviously it’s a thing.

  Before answering, I look this girl slowly up and down. I can see how she would appeal to Ben, but I’m still surprised that she had enough of an impact on him to make him give her the better space instead of Maggie.

  There are chairs and tables throughout the space as well as plenty of large pieces of art hung on the walls that look like they were painted by dogs. In the corner is a huge water bowl and a basket of toys, presumably so that the dogs can feel at home when their owners come in here to pamper them.

  It’s weird.

  “Do you like the art? Chunk painted it.”

  Yep. Everything makes sense now.

  “I do. I’m actually just coming by to see how the space is working out for you. I’m Ben’s boss.”

  She reaches out to shake my hand and holds onto it a bit too long. I feel funny pulling it back, but I can tell by the way she looks me in the eyes that she doesn’t want to let go.

  “The space is great. It’s so nice and airy, which means I can have plenty of dogs in here with their owners without anyone getting into a fight.”

  Maybe there was more to
Ben giving her this space than I thought.

  “That’s great,” I tell her. “Has that been a problem in the past?”

  Her face falls and she crosses her arms across her chest. “Actually, I haven’t had a lot of foot traffic. I just don’t get it. I’m in prime location, with great windows and delicious treats, and I still don’t have many people walking in with their dogs. Why do you think that is?”

  I don’t want to tell her that I think it’s probably because most people would rather buy muffins and eclairs from Maggie for themselves than buy their dogs a biscuit, but that would be in bad taste. Especially since she knows where I work.

  “Hard to say. The market can be a little tricky at times. I’m assuming that you’re advertising?”

  “Sure am, look.” She grabs a newspaper from behind the counter and spreads it out on the table for me to look at. On the last page is a quarter page ad with a picture of their logo and a promise to “fill their pet’s belly with yummy treats”.

  It’s not exactly inspiring.

  “Hmm,” I tell her, for a lack of better things to say. I can’t help but think about the line out the door at Maggie’s and how amazing the food there had been. “Well, why don’t you give me some business cards and I’ll put them up on the table in the office? It can be a good way to get your name out.”

  Her face brightens. “Really? That would be great! Hang on.”

  While she rummages around in a drawer to find the cards, I take one more look around the building. I can only imagine how incredible it would be for Maggie if she had been able to get this space. There’s so much room for seating and the display counter is twice the size as hers. A huge chandelier hangs in the middle of the room, casting great light on the tables.

  It would be dreamy.

  She deserves better than what she was stuck with, thanks to Ben. I can’t go back in time and fix what was done, but maybe if I’m lucky, I can help her in the future. Jessica presses a stack of business cards into my hand, allowing her touch to linger too long.