by L. P. Maxa
“No, not really.”
I ignored him, knowing he was most likely telling the truth. “And then he said, I’m serious, move in with me. I said yes.”
“Why?” He grabbed the ball of blankets off the foot of the bed and threw them in the air to straighten them before covering himself up.
“Why what?”
He rolled his eyes. “Why’d you say yes?”
“Oh.” I laid my head on the pillow I used last night. “I wanted to. I was in love. I wanted to be with him. I wanted to have dinner together and fall asleep watching the news. I wanted to build a life with him.” And he’d wanted to keep having sex with other women, so really, we were no longer compatible.
“It’s his loss, Hollie baby. Please believe me when I say that.”
I reached out and put my hand on top of his because kind words deserved kind gestures.
Too many more conversations like this and I might have to change my opinion of the pretentious prick after all.
Chapter Fifteen
Brice
I heard the front door open, so I finally got my lazy ass out of bed. The least I could do was help my new roomie haul all her crap into the guest room. I’d been relieved when she refused my help to go with her to pack it all up because that had really seemed like a shit way to spend a Saturday.
I stopped short when I saw the large pile of miscellaneous items crowding my entryway. Garbage bags full of clothes, a laundry basket piled high with shoes, countless suitcases, a toaster, a box labeled books, and one potted plant. And then there was Hollie sitting in the middle of all her stuff, bawling her eyes out.
For fuck’s sake, how often was this chick going to cry?
“What happened now?” I knelt next to her, tilting her chin to make her look at me.
“Trevor was there.” She wiped at her nose with the back of her hand, which would have been disgusting if anyone else had done it. “And so was that girl I caught him with.” Fresh tears spilled over and ran down her face, her kissable lips quivering.
That stupid motherfucker. Because of Hollie’s worthless ex, I now had guilt clawing its way through my chest for not insisting I go with her. I didn’t like guilt, and I tried my best to never feel it.
“Well, you already knew he was cheating on you.” Was that the wrong thing to say? Her darkening expression told me it might have been. “What I mean is, he’s an asshole. We’ve already established that. And you guys already broke up. And he told you he didn’t believe in monogamy. So, I’m not quite sure why you’re upset all over again.”
She used the edge of her shirt to dry her cheeks. “It hurt, you know, to have it all shoved in my face again.”
“Okay, um, you want some vodka?” That had seemed to help her last night, and I desperately wanted her to stop crying.
She shook her head, wincing like even the thought of alcohol made her sick. I was right there with her. We drank way too much last night.
“Dance party?” I gestured to the speakers I had throughout the house, but she shook her head a second time.
“You want me to fuck you again?” That had been the third thing that had put her in a good mood, at least for a little while. I’d fuck her every day she lived here if she asked me to. We were that explosive in bed. And that was saying something, because I didn’t typically do repeats.
“No, but you’re more than welcome to go fuck yourself.” She sent me that sneering smile that only she could make look sexy.
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Ah, there’s my girl.”
“Don’t call me your girl.” She shoved at my chest, but it was half-hearted at best.
I breathed a sigh of relief. If she was hurling insults, she was fine. “Come on. Let’s order lots of takeout and be lazy until we fall asleep from it.” I gestured down to the pile of belongings. “And then tomorrow you can get your room all set up and get back to hating me.”
I was guessing right about now she hated herself as much as she hated me though, so I wasn’t too upset. She considered me her archnemesis or some shit, and she’d screamed my name as she came that first time.
“I don’t hate you. But I do think you have loose morals and a pretentious air.” She smiled sweetly as she held her hand out, letting me help her up.
I pulled her close, putting my mouth by her ear. “Be careful, baby, your morals weren’t so upstanding last night, now were they?”
She shoved me away and stepped over her giant pile o’crap, flipping me the finger on her way toward the kitchen. “I’m ordering Indian.”
“I don’t like Indian food.”
She spun in a circle, adding a second hand to double flip me off. “I know.”
***
The little brat did order Indian food. She ordered like a hundred dollars’ worth and charged it to my credit card. When I asked her why I had to pay for her gross food, she told me it was punishment for charming her pants off last night.
We were in the living room, watching TV like only two still slightly hungover adults could do. I was on one end of my couch and she was on the opposite end, a blanket wrapped tightly around her and fuzzy socks on her feet. But her legs were bare, and my eyes kept drifting over to them. I’d seen her naked, and my dick wouldn’t let me forget it. He wanted more, even though for the last four hours I’d been mentally telling him it wasn’t going to happen.
My cell vibrated to the edge of the coffee table, the screen lighting up with a text. Ah, a distraction, exactly what my overly eager dick and I needed.
Declan: You out?
Yeah, nothing will deflate a hard-on like a text from your sister’s baby daddy.
Brice: No, I’m home. What’s up?
Declan: YOU’re home on a Saturday night? You have company?
I glanced down the sofa at Hollie. Her eyes were puffy from all the crying she’d done earlier, and her lips were all red from the spicy Indian food she’d made me buy her. I couldn’t tell Declan she was here. He would be so fucking pissed, and I didn’t really feel like listening to a lengthy tirade of Declan warning me to stay away from his best employee. Plus, it was too late for that. I’d already fucked her. Like three times if I remembered correctly.
Brice: No.
Declan: Are you sick? Is your cock broken?
Brice: I’m hungover.
Declan: You’re such a pussy when you’re hungover.
Rude ass. Hangovers hurt him as much as they hurt me. The last time we’d gone out drinking together he’d tried to convince Cassie he had the flu the next day so he could stay in bed. She’d cracked the whip and made him go with her and Wyllie to the zoo.
Brice: Did you need something? Or did you just feel like being an asshole and needed an outlet?
Declan: We’re coming back to Dallas for a visit next week. You gonna be around?
Brice: Yes. But I’m not going to a gender reveal party. I don’t care if it’s to find out if I’m getting a niece or a nephew.
Cassie had announced last month that she and Declan were going to have another baby. My mother had immediately started talking gender reveals and baby showers. I loved my nephew Wyllie, he was a cute little badass. And I would love this next one too. But if Cassie thought I was going to drink mimosas while I waited around for her and Dec to open a box filled with either pink or blue balloons, she had another thing coming.
I had to draw the line somewhere.
Declan: We already know what we’re having dickwad. But we do want to do a nice dinner with all the grandparents to tell them. You free next Saturday?
Brice: Sure.
Declan: You planning on bringing a date? I need to make reservations.
I immediately started to type out a sarcastic hell no reply, but then Hollie stretched out her long legs and shoved her feet under my ass.
“My toes are cold.”
I plucked at the hem of her ugly socks. “You’d think these monstrosities would be able to keep them warm enough.”
“You’d think.” She sen
t me a tight smile and shoved her feet farther under my ass, making me wince.
Brice: I might bring a girl that’s a friend.
Declan: You don’t have friends like that.
Brice: Yes I do.
Declan: Since fucking when?
Brice: Since yesterday.
And that was the god’s honest truth.
Chapter Sixteen
Holland
If someone would’ve told me last week that I’d be chillin’ on Brice Huntington’s couch with my cold toes buried under his ass, I’d have tried to have that someone committed to a mental institution.
But my belly was full of yummy food and I hadn’t cried since he found me on the floor earlier. His house smelled good, and we seemed to like to watch the same shows, with the exception of golf, obviously.
“Are you texting a lady friend? Do I need to make myself scarce?” I waggled my eyebrows. “Should we come up with a sock-on-the-doorknob type system?”
I bet Brice had a sock system in college, at whichever frat house he’d spent four years trashing.
“I’m texting Dec, nosey pants. And if I have a lady friend over, I’d suggest you stay in your room and put on some headphones.” He sat his phone back on the coffee table.
I opened my mouth to make a joke about his confidence level suggesting I would need headphones, but then I shut it. I was pretty sure at one point I’d screamed so loud last night the windows rattled. The jerk was good in bed.
Brice removed my feet from underneath him and placed them in his lap, covering them up with the blanket he’d been using. “He and Cassie are coming into town next week, they want to do dinner on Saturday. You want to come?”
I knew they were planning a visit already. Declan had added it to his Cueva calendar that we had shared access to. He’d come by and work at both locations for a few hours while he was in town to show his face to the employees and remind them who signed their paychecks. I wouldn’t mind dinner with him and Cassie. She was hilarious, and I loved watching her give Brice a hard time.
“Sure, but I’m not going to pretend to be your girlfriend.” I bit my lips together to keep from smiling too big. “It’s against company policy, you know.”
He threw his head back, chuckling in a mocking tone. “Actually, Hollie baby, I think fucking me is against company policy, not dating me.” He wagged his finger at me. “Are you going to have to fire yourself?”
Ugh, me and my sarcastic, loud mouth.
“I really should.” I wasn’t a hypocrite. I felt guilty as hell for doing something I was supposed to fire people over. “Or write myself up at the very least.” Maybe I’d tell Declan what happened before he headed back to Florida. If he wanted me gone, I’d have no one to blame but myself. And vodka. And heartache.
“Do you regret it?”
My gaze jerked to Brice. The way his voice sounded almost concerned gave me pause. Did I regret it? It certainly wasn’t my finest moment. But at the same time… There was something about last night. Something fun and free. Something that healed my broken heart, if only a little. Before the sex, and after, there was friendship. There was laughter and compassion, and kindness. I got to see a different side to Brice Huntington, playboy extraordinaire. I felt…special, almost.
“No, I don’t regret it.” I turned and rested my back against the arm of the couch. “Do you?”
He rested his hands on my ankles. “I’ve wanted to fuck you since the first moment I saw you, so no, I do not regret it.”
“I’m flattered.” I rolled my eyes and went to pull my feet out of his overused lap, but he clamped his hands tighter, holding them in place.
“I don’t regret the rest of it either, the friend stuff. It’s nice having you here, even though you cry a lot and eat stinky Indian food.” He shrugged, turning back to the TV. “Just because I’m always surrounded by people doesn’t mean I don’t get lonely sometimes.”
I’d never really pictured Brice feeling lonely, ever. I kind of thought his life was a perpetual balance between high-power work, a la Mad Men style, and sex with random beautiful women. But maybe I’d gotten some of that wrong. Maybe there was more to Brice than I’d thought.
Here we were, on a Saturday night, and he hadn’t even talked about going out. The only time his phone had made a peep was when Declan had texted him. Where were all the booty calls? Where were the ladies vying for his affection?
Chapter Seventeen
Brice
I opened my eyes, the light from the television the only reason I could read the hands on my watch. It was after midnight. Hollie and I had fallen asleep on the couch at some point. I grabbed the remote, switching off the screen and shaking her gently, her legs still in my lap.
She woke up with a start, sitting up and looking around like she was confused.
“What time is it?”
I stood, tossing my blanket down onto the sofa. “It’s late. I’m going to go get in bed.” I made my way around the couch, noticing Hollie’s pile of stuff in the entryway. Shit, I’d completely forgotten to change the sheets in the other room. “You can sleep with me tonight.”
“Why can’t I sleep in the guest room?” She was shuffling, groggy eyed, out of the living room.
I waited for her to make it to where I was standing, and then I put my hands on her shoulders, steering her slow-moving body to my room. “The, uh, maid comes tomorrow.”
“So? I…Ew, why would you have sex in your guest room?” She shrugged my hands off and sent me a disgusted look.
I wasn’t about to tell her the truth, that I took the majority of the girls I brought home to the guest room instead of mine. If I told her that, she’d leave and stay in a hotel. And for some reason, I didn’t like the idea of her leaving. “Um, that was how it happened last week.” And the week before that, and the week before that.
Contrary to what one might think, I didn’t like virtual strangers in my bed. It was like my safe space or something, I’d always been that way.
“I’m disinfecting the ever-loving shit out of that mattress tomorrow.”
Probably a good idea. “Okay, whatever you say.” I climbed into bed, holding the covers up so Hollie could get in.
I’d never slept beside a girl before, like only slept. Sure there had been all-night sex sessions that led to brief naps before me calling them a ride and shooing them out of my house. But inviting a woman into my bed for the sole purpose of sleeping was something I’d never done before.
“I’m a virgin.”
Hollie snorted at my statement, pulling the blanket up over her shoulder. “Yeah, and I’m the queen of England.”
“I’ve never had a girl sleep in my bed like this.” I rolled onto my side, facing her in the near darkness. I could make out her face, the way her hair was piled on top of her head. She was as beautiful half asleep and a mess as she was all dolled up for work.
She yawned, covering her mouth. “Well, I’m equal parts honored and appalled.”
“I’m appalled too.” I reached out and tickled her ribs, making her squirm. “You wanna jump on my dick and remedy that?”
“No. Thanks for the offer though.” She moved closer to the edge, out of the reach of my hands.
“Any time, Hollie baby.” I waggled my eyebrows.
I kind of wanted to ask her to come cuddle with me, but I thought that might be pushing my luck a bit. I didn’t want to piss her off, and I didn’t want her to go back to the couch to avoid me. Hollie was making me feel all kinds of things I’d never experienced before.
I liked her company, whether she was naked or clothed. Although, obviously, naked would have been preferred. I didn’t like to see her cry, and every time it happened I immediately wanted to do anything in my power to make it stop. I liked her sass, and I wanted her to keep giving me a hard time. She made me laugh, and she was tough and soft all at the same time.
I stared at her in the dark, waiting patiently for her to fall back asleep. Luckily it didn’t take too long.
I moved toward her, crowding her near the edge of the bed. I rested the side of my body against the side of hers, liking the way it felt to be next to someone. I lay like that for a while, alternating between feeling at ease and feeling like a creeper. The creeper feeling won and as I started to move away, she turned over and put her head on my chest.
“If you wanted to snuggle, all you had to do was ask, you giant weirdo.”
I smiled against the top of her head, placing a soft quick kiss against her hair. “Good night, Hollie baby.”
Chapter Eighteen
Holland
I spent Sunday getting my new room set up and running errands. I’d used two cans of disinfectant on the mattress, then I’d had to shut the door because all the fumes were making me feel high. I hadn’t seen Brice all day. He was out of bed before I had even woken up. He’d left a note telling me he was playing golf with his dad and then having brunch with some friends.
I pictured a bunch of overdressed man-child types, wearing shades and drinking vodka with their orange juice. All the waitresses would stare as they walked past and all the guys would act spoiled yet oblivious.
It was nearing dark now and I hadn’t heard from him. I could have easily texted him to see where he was, but that seemed invasive. We weren’t dating. We were temporary roommates. We were friends. Friends didn’t inquire as to when their other friends would be coming home.
I was in the kitchen, chopping up vegetables to make a stew, when the front door opened and male voices drifted down the hallway. I looked up, catching my reflection in the window that faced the backyard. I’d showered, but my hair was piled up on my head and I was wearing yoga pants and a ratty sweatshirt from my freshman year at SMU.
The voices were coming closer and I wanted to duck behind the island and hide until they left again. I wasn’t in the mood to meet any of Brice’s douchebag friends.