by Piper Rayne
“Oh no. That makes it sound like you’re going to bite my dick off. Not good.”
My shoulders slump and I walk farther into the deserted parking lot. “Just please come back and get me. There’s an issue with the plane and I can’t leave until tomorrow.”
“No need for excuses. You don’t want to be far away from me. That’s sweet.” His brake lights flash right before he does a U-turn. “No worries, darling, your prince is on his way to rescue you.”
I hang up on his laugh. The man is maddening.
I watch him come back and he unlocks the doors. I’m unsure if I should sit with Annabelle or in the front, so I hesitate.
He rolls down the window. “Do you need directions? Okay, you put your hand under the handle—”
“I got it.” I open up the passenger side and climb onto the plush leather seat of the high-end car, the likes of which I’ll most likely never own.
“Do you need me to buckle you in?”
“Just drive,” I say.
“Whatever the madam wants, the madam gets.” He pulls out of the airport.
I take my phone from my bag and search for a hotel, ignoring him.
“You can stay with me. I have more than enough rooms.”
“That’s okay.” I continue to check, not finding a lot of vacancies unless I want to stay somewhere sketchy. Clearly something big is going on in Waterfall Springs.
“Unless you booked a room about a year ago, you’re probably done for. It’s Merfest weekend.”
I turn to look at him. “Merfest?”
“Yep. I’d like to see you in a coconut bra.”
I roll my eyes. “Seriously? A conference for mermaids?”
He holds up his finger. “And mermen. Men can have fins too, you know.”
“Fine, can you stop at a Walgreens or something?” I shove my phone back in my bag.
“Nah, I got everything you need.”
“I’m not using someone else’s toothbrush.”
He turns onto the highway back toward his house. I’m way too familiar with the route from the airport to his house, which says how much of a headache he’s been since I started working for his family. “It’s all new.”
“You probably own stock in Oral-B.”
“Proctor and Gamble, and yes, I do. My dad didn’t like them as an investment, so of course I bought a ton of shares. You’re a smart cookie.” He winks.
Before I know it, we’re in front of his beach house.
Lord, help me get through this night. Surely he has an off switch when he’s tired.
As sad as it is to admit, I’ve had more fun messing with Lena tonight than if I went to Carmelo’s with the guys. Once Annabelle is fed and put to bed for the three hours max that she’ll sleep before she needs me, I go into my bathroom and grab Lena a toothbrush and a pair of my shorts and a T-shirt.
She’s on the couch, sitting with her back ramrod straight and her feet on the floor, looking as if she’s here for a confessional.
“Relax.” I place the stuff on the table. “You can take your shoes off.”
“Thank you for this. Hopefully I’m out of your hair first thing in the morning.” She slips off her black flats and wiggles toes that sport a vibrant pink I’d never have imagined would be her style.
“No problem.” I sit on the couch and blow out a breath. “You can take the guest room. Top of the stairs, straight ahead.”
She nods and scoops up the things I gave her. “Thank you.”
“Maybe I’m not the big bad wolf you assume.” I eye her as she stops her retreat to the stairs.
“I don’t think that.”
“Are you hungry?” I ask. I know I should let her go up to her room and hide out while I do what I usually do, but I’m kind of sick of spending my nights alone.
“I’m fine.”
“I mean, I’m starved, so I was going to make something. If you want to join me.” I inch toward the end of the chair, about to get up.
“Well… I didn’t eat at the game because I didn’t want to disturb Annabelle.”
I hold up my hand. “Then I’ll make you a late dinner. Go change and come back down.”
She doesn’t say anything else, but heads over to the stairs and walks up them so quietly she could be a thief.
I stare at my contents in the fridge. Hummus, chicken breasts, vegetables. All healthy and none of it appealing right now. So I pick up the phone and call for Chinese since there aren’t many places still open.
Unsure what Lena likes, I order a little bit of everything. I’ll be paying for the sodium in two nights at my game, but so be it.
Sitting back down in the chair, I turn on the television, keeping the baby monitor at my side. There’s a woman in my house and I’m not even thinking about sleeping with her. That’s a scary thought. But then again, it’s Lena. She despises me even if I don’t exactly feel different about her. She’s annoying as hell, but if I’m honest, there’s something about her I find… intriguing.
I hear the stairs creak before she turns the corner wearing my T-shirt that’s tied in the front and a pair of shorts that are rolled at least three times at the waist. Her sandy-blonde hair is thrown up in a messy ponytail, and her expression looks almost shy. Not at all like the spitfire who can spar with me.
There goes that whole thought about having a woman in my house I don’t want to sleep with. In fact, right now, I’m reliving that kiss on my family’s plane on New Year’s Eve.
“I ordered Chinese. I don’t have anything worth eating,” I say.
“Thanks.”
“You can stop thanking me. I’m sure I’ve put you in enough shitty positions that I at least owe you dinner.”
She shakes her head but smiles, insinuating I’m correct. Of course I am. I’ve given her so much shit since she started, but it’s been more about my dad than her.
“If you want to go out, I’ll watch Annabelle.”
I rock my head back. “Oh, because I can’t stay home?”
“No.” Her eyes meet mine and there’s genuine kindness there. “I just meant you’ve really adapted to this single dad role and probably haven’t had time to do the kind of things you used to—”
“I never had to go out every night. I do enjoy staying in sometimes.”
“I was merely suggesting—”
“I know what you were suggesting. That I’m a manwhore who wants to go back to the arena and pick up one of those bunnies.”
She looks away from me and sits on the edge of the sofa. I have no idea why it’s grating on my nerves that she can’t allow herself to get comfortable. I’m not a monster.
“That’s not it.” Her voice is small.
“You think I’m a manwhore, right?” I shouldn’t push this issue. Just eat the Chinese, go to bed, and when I wake up, she’ll probably be gone.
“Can we please not?” Her gaze remains diverted away from me.
“Why? I won’t get offended.”
“Do you ever stop?” Her voice is louder now and her cheeks are turning light pink.
I’m starting to enjoy myself, just like in the car. “I’ll stop when you answer.”
She says nothing, and I catch her chewing on the inside of her cheek. Just when I’m about to press her again, she says, “I think you’re a professional hockey player. I think you’re Ford Jacobs, heir to Jacobs Enterprises. I think you’ve rarely gone without something you’ve wanted. I think that’s just normal life for you.”
“What’s normal life for me?”
“The girls falling for you, for one. Let’s not sit here and pretend you’re not hot as hell. And that you have money and you’re a professional athlete. You’re like the horse that wins the Triple Crown of horse racing.”
I tilt my head, intrigued that she paid me that compliment.
“I doubt you’ve been told no many times in your life.”
“Once in the seventh grade, but I was going through my awkward phase.” I wink to lighten the mood because al
though she’s complimenting me, I hear resentment in her tone. “What about you? You enjoy telling me no.”
“It’s my job to tell you no.”
All that comes to mind right now is when she didn’t tell me no or push me away when I kissed her all those months ago. When my lips pressed to hers and a strangled moan sounded from her throat. She definitely wasn’t saying no then. “True, but—”
“The kiss was just a New Year’s tradition. If there had been other people there—”
“You would’ve kissed another guy?” I cover my heart with my hand and fall back into the plush chair. “You’re killing me.”
She stands from the couch. “I meant if there were other girls, you’d have been kissing someone else. Let’s remember I had to tear you away from a pair of women that night.” She remains on her feet, standing at the end of the couch. “I’m just going to go to bed.”
“Why are you always running away?”
Her footsteps stop.
The doorbell rings and I stand to go answer it, but on my way, I stop at Lena’s back. My hand wraps around her wrist, my finger running a figure eight along the inside. “Trust me. I might not have been where I wanted to be that night, but I was with who I wanted to be with that night. Stay and eat something.”
I inhale her scent, lavender and vanilla, and leave her standing there while I walk to the door before they ring the doorbell again and wake Annabelle.
After I pay the driver, I come back to find Lena still standing where she was, her cheeks pinker than I’ve ever seen. I’m not sure why I told her what I did, but I wanted her to know that I didn’t kiss her on New Year’s because she was the only woman there when the clock struck twelve. I kissed her because I wanted to. It’s as simple as that.
“Why does it matter to you?” she asks, glancing at me.
I take the white boxes out of the brown paper bag. “What?”
She slowly walks toward me at the kitchen counter. “Why are you so hung up on what I think about you?”
“I just like fucking with you. That’s all.”
She nods, and our eyes meet for a second. She probably knows I’m lying. And that’s exactly why I care. For some reason, Lena Boyd is the only woman who sees through me and the front I put up to my family, the world. And maybe that’s why I’ve been pushing so hard for her to tell me what an asshole she thinks I am. That I’m not worthy of that kiss on New Year’s. So I can hear what she really thinks of me and put her out of my mind. She’s way too good for a guy like me.
Light streams in my room and I squint, rolling on my sheets, exhausted and a little banged up from last night’s game. Damn Langley and his laser focus on where I was every second. Even though he didn’t play his best game last night, he’s still a contender. I cringe, rising slowly until I remember Annabelle. I grab the monitor and see that it’s off. Shit, did the power go out or something?
I run out of my room into Annabelle’s. Her door is open, and I rush through to find Lena in the rocking chair, holding Annabelle and feeding her a bottle. Did Annabelle really sleep through the night?
Lena looks up and her gaze falls back down to my daughter. Her tongue slides out and licks her bottom lip. “I just thought as a thank you, I’d let you sleep in.”
My heartbeat slows now that I know Annabelle is okay, and I rest my shoulder on the doorframe. “Thanks.”
“No problem. That’s a nasty bruise. Do you get hurt like that often?”
I look down at my stomach to see a black and blue bruise. “It’s nothing.”
Although that’s obviously what’s making me cringe when I move.
She places the empty bottle on the table, picks up Annabelle and puts her on her lap, then runs her hand in a circle on her back, patting lightly, holding my daughter as though she’s a professional nanny. This is another layer of Lena Boyd I had no idea about. I see what everyone means when they say she’s motherly.
Annabelle lets out a huge burp, and we both laugh. Lena picks her up and stands. It’s then I notice she’s wearing my T-shirt still, but the shorts are gone. And I finally get my first look at Lena Boyd’s legs. They’re as good as I imagined—long, shapely, and perfect for wrapping around a man’s waist. Or his head.
“Last night must’ve been a big night. She’s sleepy.” Lena smiles at Annabelle.
I give my head a shake to clear my thoughts. “Lay her down.”
I watch Lena lean over the crib to place Annabelle inside. My shirt runs up, but it’s so big on Lena, I only get a glimpse of her ass for a moment before she’s standing back up.
Turning around, she stays by the crib, not coming toward me. Her gaze falls over my body, her tongue sliding out of her mouth again as though she has no control. There’s a hunger in her eyes that makes my dick chub. Could we cross that line? Surely being my family’s PR rep isn’t her life goal.
“I should go.” She walks toward me, but I don’t move out of the doorway. When she realizes it, her gaze slowly meets mine. “Ford…”
It’s not clear what she wants from me—for me to press her to do what I think she wants me to, or for me to pretend there isn’t something that feels like it’s tugging us together, even if I can’t explain what that is or why.
“Lena,” I say, mimicking her tone. I step closer, removing any distance between us. Her nipples poke through my shirt and brush along my chest. My arm winds around her, touching her waist, ready to hoist her up.
Her phone rings from her bedroom and Annabelle lets out a small cry, clearly not as asleep as we thought.
“That could be the pilot,” she says and squeezes around me, brushing her entire body along mine.
“Yeah.”
I watch Lena walk into the bedroom and shut the door. Fuck. I run my hand through my hair because there’s no denying I almost lost all self-control and tried to sleep with her. It has to be because I need some female attention. God knows it’s been too long at this point, even before I made that stupid fucking bet with Tweetie.
When I pick up Annabelle, she looks about a minute away from a tantrum and I realize I feel the same way. I need to get laid and I need it soon, before I end up fucking the last woman I should.
Sex diet be damned.
When the plane takes off, leaving the beaches of Florida behind, I finally release the breath I’ve been holding. I didn’t spread my legs for Ford Jacobs. Mission accomplished.
Now if only I could stop replaying his intense stare or the feel of his arms around me in his daughter’s nursery. Not that it’s much of a nursery. A crib, a rocker. No decorations.
I was just doing him a favor with Annabelle. He let me stay the night with no notice, so I was being nice, like anyone would, right? He played a hard game the night before and we were up late, eating and chatting about all kinds of things—where to get the best egg rolls in New York City, how he first got into hockey. The topic of his playboy ways was put aside, and as much as I’m surprised, I actually enjoyed his company.
I couldn’t figure out how to turn the monitor off in Annabelle’s room because the main unit looks like something NASA would use on a space mission, so I opted to turn off the one in Ford’s room. Going into his room to turn off the monitor, seeing him sprawled out in only his boxer briefs, wasn’t part of the plan. I can’t lie, I stood there for a few seconds, watching him sleep. I didn’t lie last night. Lots of women see him as the Triple Crown. He’s got it all. If I hadn’t witnessed his turbulent relationship with his father, I’d say he was handed not only a silver spoon, but an entire silver platter. But I know his deciding to play hockey and not take over the business caused a rift in his family. One that has remained unfixable.
Still, I can’t stop wondering, if the pilot hadn’t called and my phone hadn’t woken Annabelle, would Ford have taken me to bed? Would we have kissed only to realize it was a mistake, or would the lust coursing in that room have been enough to keep us going until we quenched our thirst for each other? Afterward, would I have hated myself and bee
n discarded like all the other women in Ford’s life?
The fact that I have all these questions makes it clear the right decision was made. I can’t sleep with him, even if it is for only one night.
I open my laptop, seeing an email from Gavin. I go through what he’s got so far for the story. The pictures turned out awesome. Sending an email back to him, I ask him to send me everything before it goes to print.
Then my eyelids fall closed as I lean my head back on the headrest, thinking that I probably need to get laid. It’s been way too long, and if I can just sleep with someone, maybe all these thoughts about Ford will disappear.
I walk into the Jacobs’ house, surprised to hear Mr. and Mrs. Jacobs arguing in his office. Usually, he’d be at the Jacobs Enterprises office at this time of day. But I tend to do most of my work here with Mrs. Jacobs. I thought it’d be a light day, especially since the whole Ford baby mama crisis is well on its way to being spun to show Ford as a glowing single dad.
Deciding to head to the kitchen and hopefully convince Bennie to make me a sandwich for lunch, I find Imogen, Morgan, and Bennie huddled around a plate of small triangle sandwiches.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“They’re at it again,” Imogen says. “Dad’s birthday party.”
His party isn’t for two more weeks. Usually, Mrs. Jacobs does whatever she wants for their parties and Mr. Jacobs just shows up in whatever she tells him to wear.
“They’re arguing about the agreement they made,” Imogen says, taking a triangle sandwich.
Before I can ask what she’s talking about, Bennie says, “Heard you got stranded in Florida.” There’s a hint of mischief in his eyes.
“I did.” I pick up one of the sandwiches, starved from not eating anything on the plane.
“And?” Morgan asks.
I still with the sandwich halfway to my mouth. “And what?”
They all stare at me, then Imogen pulls out her phone, types out something, and slides it over to me. There’s a picture of me with Annabelle on my chest and a suit-laden Ford walking to his car. The caption reads, “Ford Jacobs sports new car and new baby mama.” I laugh and slide it back, not bothering to read the article.