by Kayla, Mia
Friends.
Yep.
Good.
“Connor.”
I jumped when I heard Nana’s voice behind me.
“You totally blanked out there.”
I smiled because there was no way you couldn’t when she was holding a dozen cookies before nine in the morning.
I lifted an eyebrow and tipped my chin toward the box in her hand.
“I’m going to die anyway. Might as well let me die happy.”
I shook my head and laughed. “Nana, you will live to be over a hundred. I’m not having it any other way.”
Besides arthritis, Nana was healthy as my parents. I noticed she’d gotten a little slower through the years, but that was it.
“Yes, gotta see my great-grandkids.”
She was funny; I’d give her that.
“It’ll be a while until that happens. I have to find a girl first. Then, I have to get married—”
“Then, hurry it up! Your nana is not getting any younger.”
I laughed and then poured myself a cup of coffee, watching the steam rise to the top.
And Nana grabbed it from me and winked. “Thank you.”
I groaned. “Nana, that’s my favorite mug.”
“Now, it’s going to be my favorite mug.” She patted my cheek. “My birthday is just around the corner. Did you get my list?”
This woman, I swore, she was a handful. Her list was endless and consisted of every beauty product from her favorite cosmetic line and her favorite foods. Every year, Kyle and I would clear her list.
“I did.” I took a paper cup and poured myself a second cup of coffee. “Is the house ready for the company party?”
“Yes. And why haven’t you stopped by? You’ve been here for weeks, and you haven’t seen me after work.”
“Nana, if you’re complaining about spending more quality time with me, I’ve taken you to lunch almost every day.”
“Your parents miss you, Connor,” she deadpanned, her tone telling me that I should know exactly what she meant. “Do you love your Nana?”
“Is this a trick question?” I knew exactly where she was going with this.
She pinched my shoulder and twisted, just as she had when she scolded us when we were younger.
“Nana! Yes, I love you.”
“Then, you’re coming to dinner at the house.”
When I opened my mouth, she threateningly pressed her thumb and forefinger together in a pinching motion.
I raised a hand. “Fine, fine, fine.” I conceded because I’d suffer an evening with my parents just to make my favorite person in the whole wide world happy.
“Hey.” Charlie walked in, stopping when she saw me.
“Hey.” I swallowed.
It felt as though it’d been weeks, not just days, since I last saw her. She looked stunning today. Her hair was in a half-ponytail, and she wore this green shirt that brought out her eyes.
“Hey,” I said again, shifting from one foot to another. I guessed that was the only word I had today.
“I didn’t have time to grab some coffee this morning on the way in, so I …”
She sidestepped me to get a cup, but I offered mine.
“You can have this one.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Oh …” She took the steaming cup from my hand. “Thanks.” She tiptoed to look behind me. “Is there any powdered creamer left?”
I grabbed it from the counter and then extended it to her.
“Thanks.” She tipped her chin toward the cup filled with silverware. “A spoon, please.”
“Yeah … sure.” I plucked one from the cup of spoons and turned to face her but noticed that her hands were full. “How many scoops?”
“Three is fine.” She wrinkled her nose in the cutest way. “Or four or five. I like creamer in my coffee.”
I spooned it in her coffee, stirred it, and took the creamer from her hand.
I was awarded with a beautiful smile that lit up her face.
“Thanks, Connor.” Then, she turned to someone beside me. “Cookies for breakfast, Nancy?”
Shit. I’d totally forgotten that my grandmother was in the room.
“Yes. Breakfast of champions. Cookies and coffee.”
“Well, enjoy.” With a single wave, Charlie was out of the room.
When I turned to my nana, she was sporting an all-knowing smile.
I laughed. “What?”
“Mmhmm.”
“What’s that look for?”
She walked out, and I followed.
“You didn’t offer me any coffee, but you single-handedly gave her yours.”
“Whatever, Nana. It’s just coffee.”
“Mmhmm,” she said louder, throwing me that same I know what you are up to look.
“And where is your cup, Connor?”
I stopped mid-step, turning to look at the coffee room, now a few good feet away. How did I end up giving up two cups of coffee and walking out with none?
Before I had a chance to answer her, she said, “And you gave her your creamer too. I think great-grandkids might be sooner than you expect.”
“Nana, no … no dirty jokes from you. Please,” I said, searching to see if anyone had heard her.
“Mmhmm.” Then, she kept on walking—with my cup of coffee.
Chapter 19
Charlie
I unwrapped my sandwich and took an overly large bite.
I tried to concentrate on what Casey and Alyssa were talking about, but it was hella hard to do so because … Connor Colby.
Holy sexual tension.
It was like my body knew what it wanted, even when my brain was screaming that it was bad for me. Like that extra cookie when I’d already had five.
Ever since his hot, naked body had pressed against mine, then the boardroom incident, and then the limo make-out session, I couldn’t shake him.
And after seeing him this morning, it was almost too much to take.
It was as if the universe were trying to tell me something, but it was too bad I didn’t believe in signs.
“Did you see this?” Casey’s head was nose deep into a rag mag she was reading. The headline on the magazine was about groupies. “Seriously, look at this. They’ve interviewed all these groupies who stalk all these rock stars and sleep with multiple of them. Like one big sex pool. Ugh … nasty.” Casey’s finger followed the words on the paper. “This one slept with Hawke Calvin from Def Deception. Hmm.” Then, she laughed. “Best lover out of all of them, she said.”
Alyssa cut up her steak beside her. “Why be such a prude, Casey? Don’t tell me if you had a chance with Hawke Calvin, you wouldn’t sex him right here on the table in front of”—she raised her knife and circled the room—“everyone.”
“Uh, no!” Casey’s tone heightened.
“Please, Miss Thang. You need to broaden your horizons, live life to the fullest, yada, yada, yada, and all that jazz.” She took a small bite of her steak. “And bang all the rock stars when you get a chance.”
“Nope. I’m not that type of girl.”
Alyssa raised an eyebrow. “What kind of girl are you saying I am then?”
“I don’t judge your choices in life. But mine are different.”
“Listen, you’ve only had one dick all your life. Multiple times, but the same dick nonetheless—ouch!”
Casey flicked her finger at Alyssa’s shoulder, like moms would do to their kids when they were in trouble.
“Hello? Just blab my whole entire drama to the whole entire world,” Casey snapped.
Alyssa rubbed at her shoulder and then leaned into Casey with a seriousness in her tone. “If you ever”—she leaned in closer—“ever do that again, I will tell the whole world who that one dick belonged to.”
Casey blanched. “You wouldn’t.”
Now, I was curious. “Who is it? Someone you dated in college?”
“No,” Alyssa answered for her. “High school.”
“Shut up,” Casey said.
“It’s okay, Casey. I’ve only had two dicks in my life. One in high school and one in college. I’m not that far behind you.”
Alyssa turned to me, dropping her fork from midair. “How are we even friends? Life is short. Seize the day. Monogamy is overrated.”
Casey tipped her chin toward Alyssa. “She’s only like this because her brothers have shielded her all her life and she wants to rebel.”
Right. Three brothers. Only girl. I couldn’t imagine.
“Please,” Alyssa scoffed. “My brothers are the reason man-whore is defined in the dictionary.”
“Anyway, who was it?” I turned to Casey. “Who was the special man?”
“Kyle,” Alyssa said without hesitation, not missing a beat.
Well, shit.
Casey flicked her again.
Alyssa’s eyes widened before Casey threw one arm around her and covered her mouth.
Casey smiled toward the people around us and announced, “Carry on. Alyssa almost choked on something.” She patted her back. Hard.
Then, she plopped down on her seat with a full-on pout on her face. “You were sworn to secrecy,” she whined.
“This is Charlie, and she is part of our circle of trust now.” Alyssa ‘s eyes narrowed. “She won’t say anything. Right, Charlie?”
I shook my head. Lost for words. Seriously … Kyle?
“I won’t say a thing. But I thought you hated the guy.”
Alyssa spoke up again, “She hates him because she loves him.”
“Oh my god, Alyssa. Listen to yourself right now. How does that make any sense?”
Alyssa raised a finger. “See … years ago, Kyle liked Casey, and Casey liked Kyle. Kyle popped her cherry and wanted more.”
“No, he didn’t,” Casey interjected.
Alyssa’s stare turned incredulous. “He did want more, relationship-wise. You assumed he didn’t. And because you wouldn’t talk to him, he moved on. Now, you hate him.”
“I don’t hate him. And he’s not the settling-down type.”
Alyssa shook her head. “See, you never had a conversation about it. You, and you alone, assumed he wasn’t the settling type.”
“You don’t know how it was,” Casey argued.
Alyssa nearly rolled her eyes. “I know how you are, Casey. You told me what went down.” Then, she turned to me. “This is why you should always set expectations at the beginning of the relationship.” She threw Casey a look. “Don’t assume what he wants or what it’s going to be. If you have an adult conversation on what it is, no one will get hurt.”
“I’m not hurting,” Casey said.
“You might not be hurting, but you’re not over it.”
“I am so over him.” Casey crossed her arms over her chest. “And I don’t hate him.”
Alyssa overly huffed. “You are not over him, and I know he’s not over you.”
Casey’s cheeks turned all shades of pink. “What do you mean, he’s not over me?”
“He’s not over you.” Alyssa lifted her eyes to the ceiling. “Why can’t people see the obvious? Am I the only one who can see what’s blatantly happening in front of me?” Then, she turned to me as though that comment was meant for me even though we had been talking about Casey seconds before. “In every relationship, set expectations. Then, you’ll know for sure you will not get hurt. Know what you want. Know what it is. Don’t assume. That’s my many-dicks advice for you.” Then, she winked.
Connor
Dinner with the parents. Could anything be more painful?
As Nana spooned more Mexican rice onto my plate, I smiled at her. Nana would forever want her grandkids fat. Period. In her mind, a well-fed grandkid was a happy grandkid. When Kyle and I had been younger, she’d follow us with broccoli and apples. She and Papa would have snacks ready after our games. So, when Nana placed a heaping pile of refried beans on my plate, I didn’t even flinch. But when she added double the amount of food to Kyle’s plate, I smirked. He stayed utterly silent, knowing he couldn’t win with the woman who could beat her opponent down with words.
My mother scrunched her face. “Ma, look at Kyle. He’s already too big as it is. Quit feeding him.”
Kyle lifted a muscle and flexed. “That’s right. Mom just called me swole.” He threw me a look. “Jealous?”
“Yeah, you got me,” I said.
Nana’s gaze flickered between me and Kyle. “I think you need more food, Connor.”
She spooned another heaping serving of beans on my plate, and the whole table laughed.
“You need to be benching more, not eating more food.”
I picked up a chip and threw it at his head.
“Hey. Mom, did you see that?” Kyle said, almost pouting.
Her eyes filled with an inner glow. “It’s good to see all of us together.”
I didn’t know when my mother had loosened up, when she’d stopped caring about the business as much.
A few years ago, care packages had made it to my doorstep in Manhattan, and random just because phone calls had begun. I had known that was her way of trying, of reaching out. But I hadn’t forgiven her then, but more and more now, seeing her in this element, lighter, laughing, I knew I just had to let some things go.
“So, how’s the rebranding going?” my father asked above the mariachi band playing at the far end of the room.
But with my father, nothing had changed.
I knew my mother kicked him under the table because he jumped.
“Not now. Not during dinner.”
My father quirked his head, unaffected. “Why not now? We don’t see him enough as it is. I just want to make sure that we’re not wasting all of our time.”
This was my father—only caring about the end result. If I had gotten good grades and made the honor roll, if I had won that football game or the state championship.
He didn’t care about the details, only the end product.
“Tom!” my mom scolded. “I told you … not now.”
“No, Mom, it’s fine.” I turned to my father, spooning some steak into my tortillas, unfazed. “You’ll have to wait till the board meeting, but what we have planned is phenomenal. I’m working with our marketing team and Charlie, who is an artist. Her vision is nothing short of spectacular. It’s exactly what we need to jump-start our sales.”
He nodded, satisfied. “I sure hope so.” His tone was terse, sharp, short—nothing that I wasn’t used to.
“It is.”
There was no guarantee, but damn it, Charlie’s ideas and vision were on target. I wasn’t a gambling man, but I’d bet all my money on Charlie—any day.
Chapter 20
Charlie
The workweek was intense. It was nine in the evening. Everyone was gone for the day, but I was working on refiguring the whole floor and installing the updates to our software. It was either do this all in one day or stay overtime multiple days when I had to get home and get to painting and preparing for my exhibit.
I walked into the office closet to look for more extension cords. The light flickered above me like it was going to go out real soon.
“Where the hell are the extension cords?”
It was a typical tiny office closet with cabinets lining both sides and boxes of random stuff. I dug to the bottom of one box in search of an extension cord. I swore, if there was a creepy-crawly in this box, I’d scream like a hyena.
The door opening caused me to look up. It was Connor.
“Oh.” He closed the door behind him. “Hey.”
“Hey,” I said.
His body was bigger than life in this small room. His eyes took me in from the little baby hairs by my forehead to my pointy heels, and my body reacted immediately. Warmth flushed every part of me, and it was difficult to get my next breath in.
“I was getting some staples.” He ran one hand through his sexy hair.
“I was looking for extension cords,” I whispered, dropping my gaze because, shit, he was too fine to look at.
; Against the soft cascade light that flickered, he looked like Adonis in the flesh, an untouchable god who should be admired from afar.
Goodness, I needed to get a grip on my hormones, on reality, on life, on this situation.
“They’re right over there.” He walked right beside me and pointed to somewhere over my shoulder, but I looked and couldn’t figure out where “there” was. “Right over there.” He cleared his throat. “Excuse me.”
He brushed past me but not before I felt every inch of him pressed up against me because this closet had not been built large enough for two people.
He reached over, grabbed the extension cords, and turned to face me. “Here.” His voice was low and guttural.
A part of me was glad he was feeling all the same things I was feeling at the moment—pure, unadulterated lust.
“Thank you,” I said, grabbing it right where he’d laid it—against my chest.
There was nowhere to move and nowhere to look but at him, so I closed my eyes.
He laughed then. “Why are your eyes closed?”
“Because you’re too beautiful to look at.”
Seriously, did I just say that?
Well, after the limo episode, there was no way to hide what I thought of him.
After a beat, when silence had spanned a few seconds between us, I opened my eyes and noted his eyes were closed.
“What are you doing?”
“Closing my eyes.”
Now, it was my turn to laugh. “Why?”
“Because you’re too beautiful to look at too.”
His eyes flipped open then, locking on to mine. The air was sucked out of the room, and I couldn’t breathe. I could not get my next breath in.
His eyes flickered to my mouth, and when my tongue darted out to lick my lips, his eyes flashed.
I could feel every inch of his hard body against mine. His thigh by my thigh, his chest by my chest.
“You can’t use my line,” I whispered, inching closer, not able to help it.
“Not even if it’s the truth?”
Please, someone, help me.
I needed to resist.
Then, he shut his eyes again.
“I think I’ll keep my eyes closed the whole time you’re around.” He let out a slow, shallow breath. “Maybe it’ll help stop me from wanting you.”