“That’s okay, ninja woman. I’m not really an office kind of guy.”
“I can’t imagine you would be, all things considered. Can I ask what it was like? I mean, what was a workday like for you, being in a band and all?”
He shrugged and propped himself against the arm of her loveseat as he took a sip from his mug. She could smell that it was hot chocolate and saw that it made a little milk mustache on his upper lip. Yum. “A lot of travel,” he said. “And not the nice kind on your own with a truck or a bike. All schedules and sleeping on tour buses, then as Smidge got bigger it was schedules and flights and hotels. A lot of drinking and drugs, if I’m being honest. A lot of getting laid.”
“Not much like the office,” Nell said. “Except schedules. We have those.” The hot mint tea soothed her, put her in a better frame of mind. Wildforest’s premium tier of vacation properties all stocked a nice selection of good quality Harney and Sons teas. It crossed her mind to be glad this emergency site visit wasn’t at Winter Pine, since the economy tier of properties got whatever basic black tea could be had cheapest from their supplier, plus one caffeine-free option — usually something with chamomile, which made her gag. A quiet moment settled over them. She sipped her tea and watched the gas flames flickering in the fireplace.
“We should go to bed,” Eamonn said with a lazy stretch, spreading his arms over the back of the loveseat. When had he moved from the arm of it onto the seat next to her? Too much of his bare skin was disturbingly close to her — she didn’t let anyone into her personal space like this, especially not a half-naked and flirty near-stranger with a hot body and a dirty reputation.
“True.” She got up and crossed the room into the kitchenette area to put her mug in the sink. “I’ll take the quilt and some of the pillows and sleep on the daybed. You can have the big bed and keep the comforter.”
Sitting there, his long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, he was a picture of laid-back unconcern, but his eyes were bright with interest and appraisal. “You don’t want to sleep on that little cot, do you? King size is plenty of room for us to share.”
“Don’t start with that. We are not sharing a bed tonight, and that’s final.” Why had she added tonight to that? She should have told him they were not sharing a bed ever.
His slow smile challenged her words. “Why not, gorgeous? We’re both single grownups and we’ve got chemistry in spades. So what if we have a little cuddle? Who’d even know?”
“I’d know.” Nell crossed her arms and planted her feet, falling into her pissed-off martial arts instructor stance. He was like a bratty student, not paying attention, wanting to get to the fun stuff without doing the work. “Easy, you’re not sharing my bed because you haven’t earned it. And I’m not sharing your bed because I don’t know yet if I want to be there. When I make love with someone, it’s mutual, consensual, and respectful. And I’m not seeing that from you right now.”
He winced at her use of his stage name, apparently recognizing that she’d meant it as a reprimand. “Fuck me,” he muttered, sounding grumpy and put out. “Okay, whatever.” Then, with grudging resignation, “D’you want the big bed? A lady should sleep in comfort. I can take the daybed.”
“Pretty sure you’d be uncomfortable, given your height, and I’ll fit nicely. Thanks for the offer, though.”
“Enjoy your little bed, then.”
“I’m using the bathroom first,” she told him.
“Fine.”
After she was done in the bathroom, she snagged the quilt and two of the four pillows from the big bed and made up the daybed for herself. But she waited until Eamonn was taking his turn in the bathroom before skinning out of the bathrobe and diving under the quilt. She had no intention of letting him see the silly sleep set Amy had given her. She wasn’t that kind of woman, and she didn’t want him getting any more ideas than he already had. She set the alarm on her phone to wake her and propped it where she could see it before burrowing in.
He grinned when he saw her under the quilt on the day bed, tucked in right up to her nose. “You’re sure you’re comfy all alone there?”
“I’m perfect,” she said. “Get into your bed and go to sleep, already.” His striped pajama pants were adorable.
He turned down the fireplace and put out the lights. “All right, then. Sweet dreams, Nell Whelan. Dream of me, will you?”
“Ugh. You wish. Goodnight, Eamonn.” She heard the rustle of sheets and the sigh of the mattress as he got into the king-sized bed a few feet away. Then a bit more rustling and shifting, getting-comfortable noises, or… “You’d better not be masturbating.”
He laughed out loud in the dark. “Oh, babe, I love how you say what’s on your mind like that. Do you really think I’m such a pervert, that I’d lie here jerking myself off and thinking about you while you’re right over there listening to it? I don’t think I could be that quiet.”
“No, I suppose not. I don’t know why I…”
Eamonn laughed again. “I’d like to, though. Yeah, I’d enjoy the hell out of that. If I thought you’d be even halfway okay with it, I’d be reaching into my pajama pants right now and stroking myself until I came, pretending it was your hand instead of my own, knowing you were lying there in the dark hearing me gasp and groan as I got myself off. I’m so hard right now, I don’t know how I’ll be able to fall asleep.”
“That’s intense,” Nell muttered. Her skin felt like it had been touched by fire all over.
“You’ve got a banging body, Nell, but what really turns me on is your sassy no-nonsense talk and your sharp mind. You don’t suffer fools, and I don’t want to be a fool around you. So my hands are outside the blanket, even though it damn well hurts, because I want you to still be talking to me in the morning.” He sighed, and she heard more rustling and a mattress noise — had he rolled onto his side to settle for sleep? “How come you’re not smacking me down for being inappropriate, I wonder?” he asked, and his voice sounded amused.
“I don’t know.” Honesty seemed to come naturally in the dark.
“Go to sleep now, Nella-bella,” he said. “Unless you’re going to come over here and get in with me. This flirting is torture, and I can’t stand much more of it.”
She wouldn’t dignify that with an answer. “Goodnight,” she told him firmly.
“Night.”
After a while, his breathing settled into sleep, and then she let herself drift off.
Her phone alarm woke her. For a moment she was disoriented, seeing the room around her that wasn’t her apartment bedroom — groggy with sleep, she’d forgotten for half a moment that she was on a site visit. She sat up, silenced her phone, and looked around at the daybed where she slept and the cream-and-gold décor. Champagne Cascades. The rainy drive up the night before. Eamonn sleeping in the big bed. Right.
He appeared to be fast asleep, undisturbed by the alarm from her phone. Thankful for this small mercy, Nell slid out of bed and padded quietly to the bathroom. She always felt more human after brushing her teeth. She did a quick round of squats but decided the bathroom floor was no place for pushups or crunches. She promised herself she’d find somewhere to do them later in the morning. Somewhere Eamonn wouldn’t see her. The glass-walled shower stall looked inviting, but her clothes and toiletries were in her bag at the foot of the daybed in the bedroom. And she hadn’t brought the bathrobe in with her either. I’ll just get my things. He’s sleeping.
Only he wasn’t. “Cute,” he commented from where he lay in the bed with arms folded behind his head, admiring her in the ruffled sleep shorts and babydoll top she found so absurd.
Damn. “I don’t do cute. I don’t do pink or ruffles or hearts. This was a gift and I feel ridiculous, but I didn’t have time to do laundry.” She hoped her flat tone and don’t-go-there face would be warning enough for him to drop the subject — with most people, it was sufficient.
But no, of course it wasn’t. “Aww, come on. You l
ook adorable. Pink suits you.”
That’s it. She could feel the burn of anger rising inside her. Needed to work it off. Needed to show off a little, to show him there wasn’t an ounce of adorable in her. With a quick glance around to make sure she had enough space, she dropped into pushup position. “Don’t mind me — I’ve got a morning workout to take care of.” Smooth pushups, perfect form, straight back, right down until her nose nearly touched the floor. She could feel him watching her. Ten… twenty… thirty… She’d usually stop there, but today she kept going. At thirty-five, he got off the bed and walked over to her. At forty, he got down on the floor and did the last ten with her. Fifty. She flipped over onto her back, shooting him a quizzical look as she did so. He raised his eyebrows and continued with his pushups, just another ten, but presumably that was enough to satisfy his macho competitive instinct.
When she started her crunches, he followed suit. She normally did fifty, but in this moment she pushed onward to sixty, purely because she could hear him beginning to breathe hard and slow down. Good. Nell sat up and stretched, mostly to show him how flexible she was. Am I still adorable when I can do this? Legs so wide they were almost in the splits, hands on her ankles, nose to the floor. She heard him mutter, “Fuck me.” He was still sprawled on the floor after his crunches, a light sheen of sweat on his bare chest and shoulders. Maybe you lift, but you don’t do enough core.
Planting one hand and one foot, she kicked out with the other foot and bounced to a standing position. “Much better. I’m off to shower. I imagine you’ll want to as well, so I won’t use all the hot water.” In a substantially improved mood, feeling that she’d paid him nicely for his comments, she grabbed her bag and practically floated into the bathroom. He’s lucky I didn’t make him do a round of squats.
One of Nell’s favorite things about site visits was that she could, out of sight of the office and Tommy’s critical eye, dress to suit herself. She vastly preferred stretchy, comfortable athletic pants — usually yoga or running pants that gave her the flexibility to move. Slacks and even jeans always made her wonder if she’d be able to fight and defend herself, if needed, or if they’d impede her movements with their tightness and resistant fabrics. Because of the rain and the cool air it had brought with it, she pulled a baggy hoodie with a picture of a martial artist breaking a board and the words Personal Victory over her tank top. She wished she’d brought boots and a rain jacket, but there hadn’t been so much as a cloud in the sky when they’d set out, and given that it was June, she hadn’t thought of it. Living in the Pacific Northwest, she should have known better, but it couldn’t be helped. She emerged from the bathroom and slipped past Eamonn who was waiting to go in. “Enjoy your shower,” she said to him. “Should I wait for you or go along to breakfast?”
“I’ll just be five minutes,” he said, and she nodded.
While he showered, she looked in the various cupboards and closets in the cottage and found what she was looking for — a pair of large umbrellas. Every Wildforest vacation cottage, even on the economy sites, came equipped with umbrellas for exactly this sort of unexpected weather. These were clear plastic, printed with a pattern of ivory and pale gold bubbles and the Champagne Cascades logo. As soon as Eamonn opened the bathroom door and came out, still toweling his hair dry, she held one out to him and said, “I’m hungry. Let’s go eat.”
If anything, the rain was heavier than it had been the night before, and the wind seemed angrier. Eamonn and Nell hurried along the path to the center of the resort and made a beeline for the portico of the office building, where they took shelter for a moment as they looked for a sign to lead them to the dining room. The office building also had signs for laundry, a games room, and a library. To one side of it, another building appeared to be a sort of boutique general store, and on the far side of that, they could see a signboard that read Pink Champagne Dining Room. They splashed along the driveway that curved around in front of the three buildings, making their way to the far side and taking shelter under the restaurant’s porch roof before collapsing their umbrellas. Fortunately, the dining room had lights on and seemed to be open.
Even though Nell arrived at the French doors to the restaurant in front of Eamonn, he managed to reach past her and pull the door open for her. She suppressed a sigh, remembering that he’d said his mother taught him to open doors for women. A guy who remembered what his mother taught him couldn’t be all bad. The dining room was empty, but a little bunch of bells chimed with the door’s movement and a moment later a woman with a mess of blonde curls popped out from the pass-through to the kitchen.
“Good morning,” she said, then, “You’re not guests — oh, are you… Nell, and…?”
Nell stuck her umbrella in the brass holder by the door and strode over to the woman with a smile, holding out a hand to shake. “Yes. I’m Nell, and you must be Mary. We talked on the phone. This is Eamonn, my assistant.”
Mary looked at Eamonn as though she’d like to pour caramel sauce all over him and eat him up. “Hi, Eamonn!” Then she grabbed a couple of menus from the hostess desk and waved for them to choose a table. The room was a pleasant one. Ten tables were spaced just right for intimate dining, with cream linen tablecloths and white roses in crystal bud vases. A cheerful gas fireplace gave the room a warm and inviting coziness, much needed on such a rainy morning. “Come and sit, you two. I’ll go tell François you’ve arrived. Have a look at the menu — he’ll make you anything you like. We’re so glad you’re here! Are you going to find out what happened to Jessalyn? I’ve been so worried!”
“Of course,” said Nell, as though there couldn’t be any doubt. Act with confidence, be decisive, don’t show weakness. Wanting to look authoritative in front of Mary, she marched over to a table by the window and sat down, assuming Eamonn would join her. She scanned the menu. By the time he’d seated himself across from her, she’d decided on the mushroom hollandaise omelet with fruit salad.
Mary popped back out of the kitchen with her order notebook and asked if they knew what they wanted or if she could start them with some drinks. “François says if you don’t see anything that appeals to you on the menu, he’ll make you whatever you like. Just ask. Now, tea or coffee? Or hot chocolate? And will you have orange or grapefruit juice as well? We usually do a hot beverage and a juice — the breakfast comes with both. But you don’t have to.”
“I’ll have grapefruit juice and Paris tea, please.”
“Just coffee with cream and sugar for me, sweetheart,” said Eamonn. Mary turned pink and fluttered her eyelashes at him before whirling away to get the drinks, her blonde curls bobbing like fancy ribbons on a gift.
Nell shook her head. “You oughtn’t call women by pet names like that. You’ll either make her feel like you don’t respect her or you’ll give her the wrong idea and have her all over you.” She couldn’t put her finger on why she felt so irritated with him. It wasn’t as though she wanted his attention — why shouldn’t he flirt with Mary the waitress and even potentially roll around with her in the staff bunk room? He’d said he was turned on by her mind, but maybe that was just a line and he was equally up for sex with a bubbly dumb-as-rocks Barbie doll.
“Come on, Nell,” he said, “I get that you don’t like being called baby and sweetheart and stuff, but not everyone’s offended by it. Mary seemed pretty content just now. And maybe having her all over me isn’t such a bad — hey!” Without meaning to, Nell had shoved her chair back and stood up, popping with adrenaline, ready to — she didn’t know what she was ready to do, only that all her fight-or-flight instincts had kicked in. “Sit down,” Eamonn was saying. “Please? Don’t go off mad. I shouldn’t have joked about that.”
She flopped back down in her chair, feeling like a puppet whose strings had been cut. “Whatever. Why shouldn’t you go have a cuddle with Mary, then? Why the ever-loving hell should I care?” She forced a neutral expression onto her face as Mary came over to the table with their drinks.
/> “Here’s your Paris tea, Nell.” Mary placed a small brown teapot on the table in front of Nell and set an empty mug next to it. “Do you want any milk or honey or lemon? Just black, is it? And coffee for you, Eamonn. Here’s the cream and sugar you asked for.” It was proper cream in a little pitcher, and a bowl of sugar cubes. No plastic cups of synthetic creamer or paper sugar packets in the Pink Champagne Dining Room. “I’ll be right back with that grapefruit juice.”
As soon as Mary had vanished back into the kitchen, Eamonn leaned across the table and looked into Nell’s eyes, his blue eyes intense and darkening with desire. “Because I’m flirting with you, lovely. Because I’m trying to get into your pants. Because there’s no denying I’ve done some pretty dirty things in my life, but just talking to you in the dark last night was sexy as fuck, and there’s no way I’d go hump some random chick when I might have even half a chance of getting somewhere with you.”
“Okay, then,” said Nell, nonplussed, crossing her arms across her chest and feeling defensive. “Not sure quite where to go with that, but okay.”
He relaxed, laughing softly at her discomfiture. “If you tell me it’s never going to happen, I’ll leave you alone. Promise. Otherwise… I’ll keep trying.”
Nell gave him a narrow look. I ought to be able to tell him it’s never going to happen, but… She couldn’t do it, couldn’t shut him down and close the door on that tantalizing possibility she could barely even admit to being curious about. “We’re co-workers. I’m your supervisor. It’s against the rules, and it could get awkward.”
“I’m not going to be at Wildforest forever,” he said. “Uncle Tommy thought it’d be good for me to have something to do with my days, and I was bored enough to go along with it, but I don’t have to stay. So I’ll make you a deal — if things get awkward, I’ll leave. I won’t mess up your job.”
Rock God in Exile (Smidge Book 2) Page 6