Anyone But Nick

by Bloom, Penelope

  Seven years ago, I’d broken her heart. Now I finally had a chance to make amends for what I’d done. I just wished there was a way to do the right thing and tell her the truth. Unfortunately, the truth involved the part where I realized I still cared about her. A lot. The kindest thing I could do was suck it up and let this lie play out, no matter how much it stung.

  Chapter 5

  MIRANDA

  I closed the door to my office at Bark Bites and sank down with my back against the wall. I fished through my purse until I found some chocolate and an old, half-eaten bag of chips.

  At the sound of crinkling wrappers, Thug came bumbling toward me with his ridiculous underbite.

  “Don’t even talk to me right now,” I said to him. He hadn’t pooped in my house, but he’d knocked over the trash can and transported the contents to the corner of my bedroom, where he’d built a stinking, half-rotten little nest. I’d found him happily snoring in the center of it when I’d come home. He’d even had the nerve to look smug when I’d had to give him three baths to get all the smell out of his fur. “We’re fighting,” I added.

  Thug didn’t seem to share my hostility. He nosed—and teethed—his silly lopsided snout into my hands and tried to get my chocolate.

  “No,” I said. “Chocolate kills you things. And if you keep begging for it, I’m going to be tempted to let you off yourself.”

  Thug sat down and made a pathetic grunting sound.

  “Don’t even try to look cute. You look like a hairy gremlin. And, no, that’s not a compliment.”

  He tilted his head at me. I sighed. “Here,” I said. “You can probably eat a chip without dying.” I tossed one to him, and he snapped it out of the air, swallowing it without chewing.

  Even chocolate and salt couldn’t stop me from wanting to headbutt my new boss slash ex-crush in the balls.

  I crunched into a chip and chased it with a square of chocolate, but the sweet-and-salty blend didn’t do anything to clear my head. I could still feel the bottled-up emotions threatening to crack through to the surface. I had just been starting to think I was wrong about Nick—that maybe he had grown. But I guessed that was his signature move. He’d let you start to develop feelings for him, and then he’d do something inexplicably horrible and rude to crush all of it and make you feel like an absolute moron for imagining he liked you.

  My door opened, and I jumped to my feet, half throwing the bag of chips behind me. In a blind moment of panic, I shoved the rest of the chocolate in my mouth and tucked the wrapper into my bra. Thug took the opportunity to walk over to the corner and start nosing his way into the bag of chips.

  Nick paused, looking toward my desk, then flinched back when he saw me standing in the corner of the room instead of sitting at my desk.

  I wasn’t surprised when he seemed content to stand there and wait for me to speak first, even though he was the one barging into my office. He carried silence as comfortably as a child carried their favorite blanket. Where most people felt the need to punctuate every moment with words, no matter how senseless, Nick had always been the kind of man who said only things that were worth saying.

  So, in a silent game of verbal chicken, we both stood there while Thug noisily chomped down the remains of my chips.

  “Yes?” I asked, after lasting a whopping four seconds and change.

  “This was left on my desk.” He produced my phone, which, I cringed to remember, was currently inside a cat-themed phone case, complete with pink, rubbery ears. I could’ve explained that it was mostly a joke—mostly, because I really did think the case was cute, but I’d only let myself buy it because I knew my friends would think I was kidding and laugh—but I just snatched it from him and tried not to meet his eyes.

  “Thanks.”

  Nick’s eyes sank down to my chest.

  I could hardly believe he had the nerve to come in here and gawk at me, so I yanked up on my blouse, and I didn’t try to be subtle about the gesture, except . . . I felt the crinkly edge of my candy wrapper when I reached down. Apparently, I hadn’t actually tucked it far enough into my bra to conceal it.

  “I just hope you’re chewing before you swallow this time,” he said.

  “It’s not mine.” I reflexively pressed the wrapper deeper into my bra. It wasn’t until I was knuckles deep that it occurred to me how inappropriate this all was. My cheeks must’ve been bright red as I pulled my hand out and cleared my throat. “I was just holding it for a friend.”

  “In your bra . . . ,” Nick said.

  “Maybe it’d be best if my boss didn’t talk about my underwear,” I said.

  Nick’s nostrils flared, but I thought I saw a glimmer of amusement behind his eyes. “You’re right. Well, there’s a vending machine in the lobby if your friend likes uneaten candy bars. Were those for your friend too?” He nodded toward the chips spilled in the corner. “Because I don’t think Thug was planning on leaving any for them.”

  “I need to get to work.” I muttered the words half-heartedly and went to sit at my desk. I expected Nick to leave, but he just leaned in the doorway and watched me with an interested expression.

  Shit.

  I found myself sitting behind my desk with absolutely no work to do. Meanwhile, Nick was just watching me expectantly. I cleared my throat daintily, scooted my chair in, and shook the mouse around to wake up my computer. I was greeted by a log-in prompt, which reminded me that I didn’t know my password yet.

  I rested my chin on my knuckles and scrunched my forehead like I was reading something particularly troubling. Maybe some numbers from finance that didn’t add up. I reached for my coffee cup, because these imaginary numbers were so problematic that I needed a dose of caffeine to tackle them.

  Except I saw my mug was still empty. I’d been planning on filling it as soon as I finished my little stress binge, but Nick had interrupted me. I pretended to take a sip anyway, then pretended to swallow as I set it back down.

  I was too scared to look up and see if Nick had noticed the cup was empty, so I kept glaring at my screen. I finally looked back up at him and did my best to appear impatient. “Is there something else? Or were you going to just watch me work all day?”

  “I was just curious how long you’d be able to keep it up.”

  “Keep what up?” I asked. If my cheeks had been red and hot before, they were molten now.

  “Oh,” Nick said. “Before I forget . . .” He fished out a note card from his pocket and set it on my desk. “That’s your log-in info and password. And did you want me to fill this up so you don’t have to stop whatever you’re in the middle of?” He put his fingertips on the handle of my empty mug.

  “I’m good,” I said through a tight throat. “Thank you.”

  Nick took two steps backward while still wearing that obnoxiously cute smirk. All the indifference I’d seen in his office was apparently forgotten, at least momentarily. It was like I could see straight back to seven years ago when we’d flirted almost every day in AP Chemistry class. Back then, he’d been the only guy who ever seemed interested in me for my intelligence and not because of how I looked. But the smirk on his face suddenly melted away. He looked startled, even. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said quickly, then shut the door behind him.

  I glared at Thug, if for no other reason than because the real person I felt like glaring at had just left. All I’d done so far was show him that I was a bumbling idiot. He’d walked in on me stress-bingeing twice and had just watched me make a fool of myself pretending to work and drinking from an empty coffee mug.

  All I needed to do was remember that this was good. Even if it was painful to make a fool out of myself again and again in front of him, at least it was helping to simplify the situation. After all, I wouldn’t need to worry about developing feelings for him if he didn’t want anything to do with me in the first place.

  Except there had been something in his eyes that didn’t quite add up. In his office, it had seemed like he was actively trying to put di
stance between us. Then, just minutes later, I’d sensed something else.

  Thug came up to me and headbutted my thigh until I relented and scratched his ears. He sat down contentedly, apparently assuming the scratches would continue.

  “You’re a manipulator,” I said to him. “Aren’t you? Can’t get by on your good looks, so you have to resort to psychological warfare. Well, don’t get used to it. I’m going to find somebody to take you off my hands as soon as I can.”

  Unsurprisingly, Thug was not impressed by my tough-guy act.

  When my thoughts went back to Nick—which seemed an inevitability lately—I wanted to groan with frustration. Why couldn’t he just make it simple? Either he was interested, or he wasn’t. Either I’d landed this job because he thought I was qualified, or it was because he was trying to get into my pants.

  Nick was painfully attractive, but the idea of him giving me a job just to try to sleep with me made my stomach turn over. For more reasons than one, I desperately hoped that wasn’t the case. Then again, with the way he’d shut me down in his office, it felt more like he was trying very hard to keep out of my pants.

  “Why are men so complicated?” I asked Bone Thug.

  He tilted his goofy protruding teeth up at me and then sloppily licked his lips.

  Nick was hosting the party at his house, but calling the place a house felt as inadequate as calling a gunshot wound a “boo-boo.”

  It was a mansion in every sense of the word. The driveway sloped and curved down toward what appeared to be a massive garage below. Huge, perfectly squared-off hedges stretched out from either side but didn’t completely conceal the watery glow of a pool in the back. And the building itself was a glass-and-steel masterpiece with so many architectural flourishes that I probably could’ve spent hours just admiring the outside. It all looked sparkling and new, because it was. Houses like this hadn’t existed in West Valley before the King brothers brought Sion here. He must’ve paid a fortune to have the construction fast-tracked, because I would’ve thought something this massive would take years to complete.

  As much as I didn’t want to admit it, seeing Nick’s house in person made him feel even more like some larger-than-life figure. On one hand, I couldn’t help realizing he was exactly what most guys would be if they had a magic genie lamp and unlimited wishes. He was shockingly handsome, rich, and intelligent. I played pretend at being perfect, but Nick was nearly the real thing. So why should I have been so surprised that he passed on me all those years ago?

  I’d still spent seven years brooding over the way it had all happened. Seven years of unintentionally elevating him to supervillain status. A few months of being ignored by him while watching him gallivant around town with his brothers had only helped push him even farther up the evil totem pole. And now he was adding emotional whiplash to his bad track record with me to round it all out.

  The only problem was that obsessively thinking about Nick for seven years had apparently had some unintended side effects on my brain. Instead of doing what normal people did and moving on long enough for the flame to grow cold, I found it still raged inside me. I liked to think it was an angry kind of raging, but I was starting to see the danger of feeling any emotion so powerfully for so long.

  It felt like all that energy could just as easily get redirected if I wasn’t careful. One wrong look, one flirtatious comment, or one innocent touch could be enough to set me down a dangerous path with him. I was already feeling it in how much unwarranted focus I was putting on a few interactions with him, how I was endlessly turning the conversations over in my head and trying to read his intentions.

  I took a steadying breath and tried to focus my thoughts elsewhere. I was here for business. Maybe that was all I needed to do. Focusing on my career had always been enough for me before. I just needed to get my head back to that place and stop seeing the other side of Nick. For now, he was my boss. He wasn’t the boy I used to daydream about, and if his recent behavior was any indication, he wasn’t interested in me as anything but an employee, anyway.

  Inside his house, I found a relatively tame party. I was halfway prepared for some playboy billionaire–style engagement. I’d thought I might find scantily clad women dancing in giant glass tubes filled with smoke and aggressive techno music.

  Instead, the party had the vibe of a business Christmas party before anybody had gotten drunk enough to risk looking bad in front of their bosses. People chatted in small groups with drinks and appetizer plates in their hands, tastefully professional music slid from unseen speakers throughout the house, and waitstaff circulated throughout. It was all very prim and proper.

  Since I hadn’t seen Nick after my initial sweep of the main area of the party, I decided to do a little exploring before I introduced myself to anyone. I found a hallway lined with windows and art displays that seemed to take me away from the hub of activity and music. It led to a sort of theater room, where Cade King was reclining on a daybed with a metal plate of grapes beside him.

  He was so deep in thought that he didn’t even look up as I approached.

  “Cade?” I asked slowly. “Is everything okay?”

  “Hmm?” he said. He seemed to notice me for the first time, then smiled. “Oh, hey, Miranda. I was just trying to sort through some issues.”

  I leaned against the wall and folded my arms. I didn’t see Iris anywhere, and my thoughts immediately went to the worst. Were they fighting? “I know we’ve had our differences in the past, but if you need to talk, I’m listening.”

  “It’s just . . .” Cade frowned, then popped a grape in his mouth and chewed it before speaking again. “I mean, where the fuck are snails even going? Like where would you be trying to go in that situation? You look like a wet booger, you move at the speed of drying paint, and, I mean, let’s be honest—if sex is on your mind, you can’t seriously be too excited about getting your snail dick anywhere near some snail booty, can you? Do you think that’s it? Maybe they’re all just slurping around, looking for love? Do snails even know what love is, or is it just about the sex to them?”

  I sighed, pushing off the wall. “Do you know where Nick is?”

  “What does that have to do with snails? Were you even listening to me?”

  “Just answer the question.”

  “Nick is probably avoiding everybody, if I had to guess. Maybe upstairs in his sex dungeon, or something.”

  “Nick has a sex dungeon?” I asked.

  Cade smirked, popping another grape in his mouth. “All right, all right. I was just messing with you on that. I mean, who knows if he’s got a secret door somewhere, but no. As much as he’d like to be avoiding everyone, he’s probably convincing somebody they should invest their life savings in our newest business. He can get you thinking the most logical thing in the world is to give half your money to a bunch of billionaires if you give him a few minutes. It’s kind of scary.”

  “Right. Thanks.” I started to leave but stopped, putting my hand on the wall and then looking back toward Cade. “If I ask you a question, can I trust that you won’t ever tell Nick I asked?”

  “You can trust that nobody believes half the things I say.”

  I grinned. “I guess that works. Does Nick ever talk about me?”

  Cade sat up suddenly with a mischievous look in his eyes. “Oh. Oh my. I didn’t see it until now, but it’s so clear.” He walked over and started circling me with this goofy expression on his face. “I think I smell infatuation on you. Well, that and dandruff shampoo.” He took a pinch of my hair and held it up to his nose, but I pulled it away before he could sniff again. “No shame in a little bit of dry scalp, though. I’m not judging.”

  “What kind of person can detect that by smell alone?” I said.

  “The kind of person who knows when somebody is thinking about doing the nasty to his little brother.”

  “I’m not thinking about ‘doing the nasty.’ I just . . . I wanted to get a better handle on what’s going on in his head. One minut
e, I think he hates me. The next, I’m not so sure anymore.”

  “If you want my professional opinion, Nick is lonely. He’s too smart for his own good, and he gets bored with every woman I’ve ever seen him date. Let me put it in the simplest terms I can think of: Some men like a nice, big, luscious ass. Others want boobs they could fall into from a ten-story building and live to tell about it. But Nick? He’s got a boner for big brains. Not literally, obviously. Wait . . . what if that’s what the snails are really after? An intellectual connection. Do you think that could be it?”

  “You really are an idiot,” I said with a grin. “And thank you.”

  Cade did a little flourish of a bow and nodded. “Anytime you need my expertise, just ask. You’re also a shitty listener, for the record.”

  I found Nick just as he was walking away from a group of smiling businessmen. I was about to approach him, but I noticed he seemed to be heading somewhere with a purpose. Curiosity got the better of me, so I decided to follow him at a distance.

  Nick wove through the crowd, smiling and exchanging a quick greeting with people as he passed. He eventually headed up the twisting staircase that led from the main room to the series of balconies that made up the second floor.

  Within a few steps, the sounds of the party had faded away. Following Nick suddenly felt much more stalkerish and a lot less innocent, but I persisted. He disappeared into a room near the end of the hallway a few moments later.

  I paused, taking a deep breath and trying to think hard about the smart thing to do. None of my usual single-mindedness for work was compelling me back down to the party. I knew I would typically dive into the task Nick had given me, aiming to blow him away by how many investors I’d be able to bring to our cause, but then again, I hadn’t really felt normal lately.

  My heart was pounding as I reached for the door handle. I didn’t know why I should expect to find anything but him grabbing something from a closet or anything equally innocuous, but my skin was prickling with anticipation. Maybe a stupid, hopeless part of me was hoping he’d turn around, lock those bright eyes of his on me, and confess that he’d had feelings for me his whole life—that he just never knew how to tell me.