Chapter 6

Sierra

DAMN JACOB. Every time he opened his mouth and that rumbling voice spilled out, I had to remind myself that I hated him. But as he worked harder and harder to sell Charles on our relationship — and by proxy, the retirement community project — I was finding it harder to align him with the man who’d broken my heart two years ago. Was it possible that he’d changed?

No, my inner voice scolded me as the dessert was set down by a tuxedoed waiter. Guys like that don’t change.

Right. Of course. He was just smooth, always had been. Momma said to never fall for a guy whose wink could make you weak — that was the habit that’d be hardest to break. But could I help it if every glancing touch of his arm against mine made me woozy? And in that suit and tie… well, I was only human.

A human whose emotions he stomped on with his Timberlands, my conscience proffered.

I was getting distracted by appearances. Of course Jacob was gorgeous. He always had been. Didn’t make him any less of a snake in the grass. So what that he’d been the best sex of my life? It feels wrong even admitting that, ugh, like almost betraying myself, but it’s the truth. And besides, good sex — great sex — wasn’t worth bunkum if it wasn’t with a man who actually stayed.

Thankfully, dinner came to an end before I could go truly mad with confusion.

Charles pushed his chair back from the table, abruptly announced, “I’m going to bed,” and disappeared from the room.

All of Pillers held its breath as we watched him exit, then breathed a collective sigh of relief when the door swung shut behind him.

“That was weird,” I muttered.

“Rich people,” Jacob said, by way of explanation. “They’re like regular people, only worse.”

“Amen.”

Slowly, seeing as we were all stuffed to the gills, we stood up, groaned and stretched our legs, moving away from the dinner table and into a nearby sitting room. Charles had mentioned earlier that we could roam about the house at our leisure, and right then, all my ‘leisure’ wanted was to get out of that room we’d been in for hours… and get away from Jacob. Oh, my lush bedroom sounded so nice right now.

I moved away from Jacob’s side — a lateral thrust which didn’t escape his notice — and was planning my escape when I saw Joe and his brother, Tom, approaching us from across the room. Damnit. So much for the bedroom. Worse yet, we were now going to be confronted with the option to either tell Joe and Tom about our relationship, or lie like the dickens. And we hadn’t even thought to talk about it before. Argh! Well, I’d just have to hope that Jacob and I ended up somewhere along the same brainwave.

“Jacob, Sierra,” Joe called out, his voice rising over the chatter of the other Pillers employees. “Can you come here for a moment?”

I looked at Jacob, and he caught my eye but made no motion. I held up my hands, as if to say, ‘Should we go?’ He shrugged with exaggerated nonchalance, which I took to mean, ‘What choice do we have?’

With reluctance, I strode towards the brothers — there wasn’t a polite way to ignore your boss. Jacob fell in step behind me until we arrived at the marble column the CEOs had posted up against.

“Well done,” Tom began. “Charles looked delighted. How’d you two sell it?”

This was the opening, the split second where it might be appropriate — or, erm, vital — to mention that we’d dated before. But, in the moments it’d taken us to cross the room, I’d decided that I wasn’t about to say anything regarding our history. If Jacob did… well, that was his call. I wasn’t his master, or his mother — he could do what he wished. And in my experience, always did.

That’s when I heard Jacob reply, “Oh, you know me, Tom. Fast on my feet.”

So Jacob had decided not to tell them, either. Interesting. Very interesting. Did this count as corporate espionage? Perhaps he was worried that why we were no longer together would come out and Jacob would look like the bad guy. Perhaps he was ashamed. I worried briefly that maybe we really ought to disclose our history, for like legal reasons or something, but in the same breath discarded the thought. It wasn’t anybody else’s business but ours, and would just make an already complicated situation worse. Besides, because of my Instagram debacle, I’d already been derided quite recently by Joe for being unprofessional, and there was nothing more unprofessional than telling your boss about the bad blood you had with your former boyfriend turned mystery coworker turned fake boyfriend and we’d already sold our story to Charles.

And it didn’t hurt that my decision to keep quiet felt affirmed by Joe, who was looking at me approvingly for the first time in weeks. “I’m impressed,” he remarked. “Keep up the good work and this project is almost as good as guaranteed. You two are being real team players.”

Jacob nodded, saying, “Anything for Pillers, sir.” There was a sardonic edge but I was sure everyone else, save I, had missed it.

“That’s the spirit,” Joe agreed. “We’re turning in for the night, get some rest.” With that, Joe and Tom heaved their be-suited backs off the marble column and trundled out of the room.

As I watched their heavy, receding footfalls, I realized that, while Jacob and I had been talking to the bosses, everyone else had filed out of the room and off to their beds for the night.

That is to say, Jacob and I were alone. Again.

Great.

“Good work,” Jacob commented. “Very believable.”

I snorted. “Thanks. Acting is my backup career, in case our bosses discover that we just kind of massively left out a pretty crucial piece of information and I end up getting fired.”

“Feel free to congratulate me on my performance, too. Sounds like I’ll see you at auditions.”

“Mmm… no.”

He laughed, and moved an inch closer to me. I wanted to take a step back, to remind him that we weren’t friends or partners and that he wasn’t allowed to be so near me, but his body straining beneath the fabric was intoxicating. I couldn’t look, or step, away. Didn’t mean I had to let him see the pull he had on me. Besides, stepping back gave him all the power, and given the fact that he’d been the instigator of the breakup, I figured the scales were already too heavily weighted in his favor.

“So we’re agreed to keep our history private,” I said in a formal voice that broached no intimacy.

“Yeah. Don’t wanna muddy the waters.” He cracked his neck to one side, but he didn’t take his eyes off me.

I wasn’t sure what that meant, but I nodded as though I did. Never let the enemy see your confusion.

We remained there, close but not touching, alone in the candlelight for a fraction of a second too long. Memories of his skin on mine flooded back, and I felt my private parts dampen. I had to get away from Jacob and his irresistible pull.

“Well, good night,” I said briskly. “I’m going to bed.”

“As am I.”

“I’ll see you in the morning.”

He asked, “Do you need any help finding your room?”

At this I scoffed. “Yeah, right.”

“Okay,” he said, unfazed, and strode away from me, nearing the door. That’s when I realized I’d had about three drinks and definitely needed help finding my room.

“Er, Jacob?” I began, my voice faltering.

He grinned. “Come on, follow me.”

I skipped to catch up with him, saying as I fell in closer to his step, “This doesn’t mean I don’t hate you, I just can’t find my room alone.”

“Whatever you say, Sierra.”

He led us through the limestone halls, festooned with ancient vases and mile high ceilings, until we arrived at the corridor where most of the company had been roomed.

“Well, I’m in this hallway,” he explained. “I’d guess you’re here too. If not… you’re outta luck.”

We walked down the hall, passing by a couple of doors before I spotted the one that held my nameplate.

“I’m here,” I announced. “Good luck finding your room.”

I turned away from my door to see if he’d found his living quarters, only to discover that he was staring at the door next to mine.

He cleared his throat, and replied, “It appears I’m in this room.”

Oh great. Not only was I living in a house with my ex for a weekend and pretending to be in a relationship, now we were rooming next door to one another, with only a thin wall separating us.

“Whatever,” I said with forced ease. “Just don’t get any ideas.”

“A gentleman never gets ideas,” he chuckled. “Good night, Sierra.”

He swung open his door, stepped inside, and slammed it shut, leaving me shaken and alone in the hallway. How did he appear to be so cool under this pressure, this tension? God, I wished I could just shrug everything off like that. Men.

But I followed suit, going inside my room and promptly collapsing on the bed, only managing to pull my phone to eye level, click it on and hit the FaceTime button.

My cheek pressed into the satin pillows as the phone rang and rang. After the third ring, Florence picked up.

“Hey girl,” I said, my words muffled by the pillows. “How’s Ginger?”

“Angelic,” she replied. “How’s Jacksonville?”

“Satanic.”

“Oh, do tell,” she urged me.

In short time and hushed tones, as I wasn’t sure how much Jacob could hear from his room, I explained the situation to her. She gave me gratifying gasps — Flo always was the perfect audience. When I finished, she had her hand pressed over her heart, fingernails fluttering on my small screen.

“Your life isn’t real,” she screeched, and I had to put my hand over the phone’s speaker to muffle her noises.

“Flo! He’s right next door!” I reminded her, trying to get my best friend to pipe down.

“I know, it’s soooo romantic,” she squealed back.

Okay, this was a losing battle. I shook my head, and replied, “Sure, it would be. If I didn’t hate him.”

She snorted. “I’m not buying it.”

“What’s not to buy?”

“I remember Jacob, girl. He was hot as hell. I think you saw him again and remembered, oh shit, this guy’s cute! And now you’re mad that you feel that way, because he really was an asshole, and you’re confused about all your feelings.”

She tussled her hair as I contemplated this. “Just say I’m right,” she finished breezily.

“You’re not… wrong.” The fingernail I’d been subconsciously gnawing for half an hour was hanging by a thin thread.

“Just masturbate and then see how you feel,” Flo opined. “That fixes everything.”

“Does it fix the fact that I’m stuck in a house with him for a whole weekend?”

Her lips pursed. “Fix? What’s there to fix about that?”

I rolled my eyes and said, “Why do I even bother asking you? Your answer is always ‘masturbate.’”

She looked heavenward, like a martyred saint. “Somebody has to deliver the truth to the people.”

“All right, all right.” There was no point fighting Flo on this — as an employee of a sex shop, she had some pretty specific ideas about problem-solving.

“But seriously,” Flo said, interrupting my thoughts, her face resolving into the closest she could get to an earnest expression. “I know he treated you like crap, babe, and I’m not saying to forget that. But maybe try to remember that people change, and that you never know the whole story. Being generous of spirit isn’t a crime, it’s a relief. Holding grudges gives you acne.”

I smiled. Underneath all her flounce and flair, Flo really was a smart cookie. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” she sung. “Now Ginger and I have to get to bed. Don’t forget—”

“Masturbate, I know.”

She laughed, “Damn straight,” and ended the FaceTime.

I laid back in bed, pulling the covers up to my chin and placing my phone on the pillow next to me. My hand, with a mind of its own, absentmindedly wandered down to my hem. Maybe Flo had the right idea…

I was touching my clit, but stopped when I realized I was thinking about the man in the room next to me. The man I hated.