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“If you don’t want to watch us make out, then go home.” He was all growly and cranky sounding, but I had a feeling it had more to do with me currently cockblocking him than me and my sex life.
After Eve and I pulled ourselves together and she’d walked out of the conference room with her hair mussed and walking a little funny, she headed back to Steaming Hotties. My afternoon schedule had kept me on a lockdown of calls and meetings so by the time I could meet up with her, Steaming Hotties was closed. I texted her at the number she gave me before she left.
I want you in my bed. No more table sex. Next you’ll be on top. I can watch your tits bounce as you ride me.
I hadn’t heard back. Yet.
I didn’t have a woman to return to after a business trip like Mav did. Not really a home either, as he snarled. I had the little miner’s shack in town and my apartment in Denver. But I was rarely at either place. When I opened my eyes in the morning, I usually had no idea where I was. A different bed, different sheets, different showers, different everything almost every day.
“Then don’t be cranky with me about sleeping with your coffee supplier,” I countered. Then I paused. “Wait. How come you’re not pissed because I slept with someone from the office?”
He set Bridget back on her feet, gave her a kiss on the top of her head before she turned to settle into her seat beside me. He got a swat to her ass in before she got far, and she giggled.
Fuck me.
He stared at me. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You’re pissed I slept with your coffee supplier.”
“Yes.”
“Because I’m like Dad?”
He stilled. A guy his size should be like an aircraft carrier and take miles to come to a stop, but he literally froze.
“Like Dad?” he said, barely above a whisper. “Are you crazy?”
I ran a hand through my hair. “Well?”
“You’re not like Dad. Jesus. Not one fucking thing about you is like him.”
“I made you a plate. It’s in the microwave,” Bridget told him, her voice soft, perhaps trying to soothe him.
“Fine.”
“You obviously think you’re like Dad. Is this some kind of trauma bullshit?”
I had to laugh. “Definitely trauma bullshit.”
When I grew up, I wanted to be a mechanic. Fix cars. I spent time with the chauffeur and helped him change the oil. Learned about replacing spark plugs. Simple stuff. My father found out and didn’t go ballistic. Only laughed at me. Shamed me and my interest. Then fired the chauffeur.
After college, when I was working under him at James Corp, I turned a blind eye that he fucked everything with tits. Employee, client, waitress, flight attendant. It didn’t matter. When he died, I vowed to run James Corp with solid leadership and no sexual harassment suits.
“What’s the deal? I mean the loan, not the sex. She really won’t take it?” Mav asked, opening the microwave to peek inside, lifting the lid on the splatter cover. Clearly he thought comparing myself to our father was over.
“Dude. Eve,” he prompted when I didn’t respond. “She wouldn’t take it?”
Oh, shetook it,but that wasn’t what he meant.
He shut the door and pressed a few buttons to warm the food some more. Scout was still at his heels, so Mav squatted down to pet him while he waited.
“No. I guess her money source dried up,” Bridget said.
Bridget didn’t have billions in the bank like Mav and I. Her parents died when she was a kid and her sister, Lindy, had raised her. There had been some money since they kept the house after the accident, but not tons. No trust fund. Maybe a little life insurance. Bridget was frugal. In fact, she was finally coaxed into replacing her old beater car. It’d taken Mav a few months to gift her such a big present.
“You accepted her for the loan, so I’m not sure why a bank wouldn’t. I’ll have Bradley look into it,” I said, wanting to know what the hell was up with that. If her original loan source wouldn’t give her more, why turn down the James Corp loan? Who turned down a solid, low interest loan, especially when it was needed?
Eve.
