Slimy bastard.
I can still feel his hands on my shoulders and smell his obnoxious cologne. I can still see the snake oil behind the lunch he brought with him to Blue Skies to conveniently offer to share. I can still hear the implied threat that if I don’t acquiesce to the prick, then my loan might not be approved.
Or funded.
Or maybe if I dated a sturdy man of industry such as himself, the lenders would look favorably upon his stability and be more willing to bargain.
I’m well aware this is all total bullshit. He’s out of his mind if he thinks I don’t see that he’s most likely holding back my loan from approval to string me along. To try to extort a date from me before he tells me if I’ve been approved or not. I’ve provided the correct documentation—a business plan, financial statements, an audit of the company—and yet I’m still dependent on him.
Dependent but not desperate.
No date. No way.
I may be a gypsy in his eyes, but this gypsy is smarter than he gives me credit for.
And then, of course, his departure was followed up by a phone call from the owners. Their weekly questions about our latest sales figures that segued into why I don’t have the loan yet. That was followed by the casual mention—threat—that regardless of how hard I work for them currently, if the sixty-day escrow falls through, they already have backup buyers in place just in case. Oh, and naturally, the backup buyers are offering a higher buying price, which I find to be total bullshit. But if I call their bluff and don’t play their game, too, do I risk losing out on my dream?
I slam around the training room, moving chairs back in place, resetting slideshows, wiping off the dry erase boards. Anything to calm my temper and rid the room of the slime Chris’s presence left behind.
Everything about me is itching to put my gear on and jump.
“You okay?” Leo asks from where he stands outside the doorway. More than aware of my mood and prepared for a running start should my temper flare.
“Yeah. I’m fine. I’m just . . .” I stop talking, the frustrated tears threatening to make their presence known when I don’t want them to.
“He’s a prick, Em.”
“Yeah, I know. I just wish I could tell him what I really think of him, but I can’t risk the loan.”
“My mom used to tell me never to wrestle with pigs. You both get dirty and the pig really likes it.”
“Smart woman.”
“Just know we all see it and admire you for dealing with him. It shows just how much you want Blue Skies to be yours.”
“Thanks.” I nod but avert my eyes, hoping it will prevent the sting of tears.
“You know Sully is taking one more flight up in an hour, right?”
He has my attention, which I’m sure was his hope. He knows me well enough to know that a jump is just about the only thing that will make me feel better. I’ve been so bogged down with loan stuff and instructing clients, that I need the release . . .
“He is?”
“Yeah. A fun run for some of the crew to get rid of some of the mid-week all-we-do-is-instruct-and-not-jump blues.”
I laugh. “God bless him. What time is he going up?”
“In about an hour. Everyone’s heading out to get a bite to eat and then meeting back here at seven. You want to come?”
I glance at my watch. That gives me seventy minutes to fill out a few reports for Blue Skies and complete the last few things on the new to-do list Travis gave me this morning.
“I can’t go out to eat with you guys,” I say, “but I’ll be geared up at the plane at seven.”
“Cool. It’s been a long time since we just jumped for the hell of it.”
“Amen.”
Leo leaves me be, but I can still hear him rattling around and gathering his things in the office before the bells on the door ring as he shuts it behind him.
I’m not sure how much time passes before the bells on the door go off again.
“Sorry, we’re closed,” I call out to the front of the shop and mentally chastise myself for not taking the time to lock the door.
Then the thought hits that it’s Chris coming back while I’m here alone.
“We’re closed,” I call again just as I turn the corner to the front office and run smack dab into someone.
“Whoa! Where’s the fire?” Grant’s hands are on my shoulders, holding me steady as I look up at him. I hate that I sigh in relief that he isn’t Chris.
“No fire,” I say as I catch my breath. “We’re just closed.”
“So you said.” Grant’s eyes narrow as he studies me, and I know he sees fluster. “Everything okay, Em?” Concern laces his tone, and the sound of it makes me step back quickly.
“Yeah, fine.”
“You sure?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.”
Why am I suddenly so nervous?
“Em?”
“It’s nothing, Grant. The loan guy was here earlier, and he was just . . .”
“He was just what?” The muscle in his jaw pulses as he clenches his teeth.
“I told you, I’m a big—”
“Girl who can take care of herself. Yeah, yeah. That doesn’t mean that prick has the right to treat you how he does. Who is he, Em? I can take a quick stop by his house and—”
“No. You’re not doing anything.”
“All it would take is some asking around, a little detective work,” he says, flashing me a smirk as he points to his shiny badge pinned over his heart, “and I could fix the fucker.”
“Thank you for the chivalry. I really appreciate your willingness to be my knight in shining armor, but I’m a big—I have it handled.”
He stares at me for a beat, our eyes warring over his hero complex and my independence. On any other day, I’d smile at the trait and think it was cute . . . but not right now. Not with my loan at stake.
“This is off your beat, isn’t it, Officer Malone?” I ask with a smile and try to switch gears.
“You keep ignoring me.” There is just a bit too much accusation there for his statement to be casual.
“No, I don’t,” I lie. “I’ve just been super busy.”
“Too busy to return a text or answer a call?” He angles his head to the side, and his brown eyes pin me motionless as they try to read my body language and unspoken words.
“Just busy. I have a lot going on.” A lot as in I’m trying not to want to talk to you as much as I’ve wanted to. I take another step back but bump into the wall behind me. “Did you need something?”
“I wanted to see you.”
I’ve never known just how fine a line there is between want and need until this moment.
“That wasn’t the deal, Grant.” I reject his words immediately because they hit too close to home.
I wanted to see him, too.
“What deal?”
“The deal we made the other night.”
“Oh, you mean your rules?”
“Yeah.”
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to believe any promises spoken when in the heat of passion?”
Heat of passion.
I level him with a glare. “Haven’t you realized yet I’m not your normal woman?”
“If by ‘normal’ you mean the type of woman who jumps out of airplanes, loves to eat food without shame, gives as good as she gets, and has no problem wanting sex for sex. Then, no, I’m sorry. I didn’t notice.” His face is stoic, but his eyes hold the humor and sarcasm his voice is lacking.
“Funny.”
“Perhaps, but it’s true.”
“The other night was a mistake.” Lie. Lie. Lie. I’m just so unnerved that he sees me so well when most days I can’t see myself.
“Nice try, but I call bullshit.”
“You can call it whatever you want, Malone, but it isn’t going to happen again.”
The corner of his lips curl as he shakes his head. “I’m glad you have this all figured out.”
“He chased you.”
Desi’s words come back and hit my ears as I stare at him and realize that he has the patience of a saint and she was right—he did chase me. He’s still chasing me.
So, why am I pushing him away again?
Because rules are rules. Now, I just need to stick to my guns.
“Look, I’m far from typical. Anything you might need to do out of obligation after sleeping with someone is not needed when it comes to me.”
“Like?” he asks as he folds his arms across his chest, leans a shoulder against the wall, and tucks his tongue in his cheek to fight from smiling.
“Like I don’t require the phone call afterward to make sure we’re both okay with the one-night stand thing. I don’t need flowers or apologies when you move on to the next woman. I don’t need empty promises or whatever else it is you guys do to soothe your egos. It’s all crap.”
“Every woman likes those things.”
“I’m not every woman.”
“So we’ve established.” He holds his hand up when I start to protest. “But no worries, I don’t do that. Just don’t tell my mom.”
“Good to know.”
“Is there a reason for so much hostility, Em? I’m sensing you’re mad at me, but if these are your rules, then how can you be?”
Silence falls in the small space as my tongue-tied thoughts spin and shift the conversation. “Look, we’re attracted to each other. There’s nothing wrong with that. We wanted out of each other’s systems. We screwed. We’re good.”
“So eloquent.” He lifts his eyebrows as his smile spreads.
“I’m serious. I barely have time to breathe most days, never mind have the time to deal with this kind of shit.”
“Wow. Way to knock a man’s ego—and dick—in the dirt.”
I growl in frustration when I realize how he took my comment. “We’re not talking about the sex part.” I backpedal. “That was top notch. It’s just . . . you’re Phony Maloney. And I’m Emmy Reeves . . . don’t you think we should let the past be the past and just be happy with knowing we turned out okay? With accepting our chemistry is great but that it will never work between us.”
“What wouldn’t work? The screwing part?” he asks, eyes narrowing as he mimics the way I said the word.
“Yes. That.”
“But we already did that part, and what were your words? Top notch? So, I believe that did work.” He knows he’s irritating me and is enjoying every second of doing it.
“What about this?” I motion to the space in between us. “Isn’t this weird?”
“It didn’t feel weird the other night. In fact, it felt pretty damn amazing, so lay your next excuse on me. Why can’t you pick up the phone and take my call, Emerson? I’m not buying whatever logic you’re trying to sell. And frankly you’re making absolutely zero sense, but please, continue. I’m enjoying this immensely.”
“You’re exhausting.” I sigh.
“And you’re infuriating, but we already knew that twenty years ago . . . so what’s your excuse going to be now, huh?”
“I don’t trust you.” I know my comment is a low blow before it even comes out of my mouth, but I can’t stop it any more than I can stop the sun from setting.
He staggers back as if I’ve physically assaulted him, and I can see hints of our past flicker through the anger sparking in his eyes.
Regret is immediate. How do I tell him not to think of the past when I just threw it in his face? I’m a goddamn mess. He doesn’t deserve this. He has to know that much at least.
“You fooled me the other night,” I say with a smirk, trying to make amends for the lingering effects of my childhood grudge.
Way to get my head straight. Tell him there was nothing to the other night and then admit to him that I’m thinking of it.
“Why ever would you think that?” He feigns innocence, but a smile plays on his lips.
“The agreeing to my rules but then turning around and saying I shouldn’t believe anything said in the heat of passion. That type of thing.”
He shrugs. “I agreed to your rules. We had sex. We got each other out of our systems,” he says, but the way his eyes run up and down the length of my body has me shifting my feet to abate the ache the hunger in his look causes. It’s like he’s remembering every line and curve and flavor. “And now I’m here because I wanted to see you.”
“But why? I’ve been nothing but bitchy to you.”
He shrugs again. “Your words, not mine.”
“I know, but they’re true. We squabble like brother and sister and—”
“Not exactly like brother and sister, or else that would make the other night a little more awkward than you’re already making it.”
“You’re a bucket full of laughs today, aren’t you?”
“Always.” And there goes the panty-dropping smile of his that makes me weak in the knees when I don’t get weak in the knees. “I’m sorry. You were saying? Brother and sister . . .”
My concentration is lost amid his interruptions, leaving me to fumble with where I was going with my point. “Just why? That’s all. Why would you want to come see me if I’ve been nothing but rude to you?”
“Because despite it all—or maybe because of it—I like you. And seeing as we got each other out of our systems, maybe I want to be friends.”
“Friends with benefits,” I retort.
“Not gonna deny the thought hasn’t crossed my mind.” His eyes lock with mine, those gold flecks dancing as my thoughts swirl, whirl, and tumble out of control.
“You’re serious.”
God, please let him be serious.
“As a heart attack.”
Thoughts of us in the dim light fill my mind. The warmth. The pleasure. The comfort. The praise.
The breaking of rules.
“C’mon, Em. You know it’s a good idea. We’ll both be the beneficiaries of good sex—sex we’ve already proven to be top notch—and we don’t have to deal with the complications of afterward. The clingy one who suddenly wants more. The frantic phone calls to make sure we’re thinking about them. The randomly showing up where we like to hang out to make sure we didn’t forget them.”
I chuckle because it’s as if he’s repeating every scenario for why I’ve deleted names from my phone.
“See? You know what I’m talking about. You know that’s all a pain in the ass.”
“Kind of like you?”
“Yeah, but I’m a cute pain in the ass.”
I can’t stifle my laugh because he’s wearing me down, not that I’ve put up much resistance.
“I have to think about this . . . without you in my face, badgering me like a little kid.” Because I know he’s playing me right now, and I’ll be damned if it isn’t a pretty brilliant play.
His laugh fills the room, and I know he knows he has me.
“Meet me here tomorrow after work. Like seven-ish. We can talk then.”
“Deal.” His grin is back and as disarming as ever.
And when he turns to go out the door, I hate that every part of me is relieved that I have an excuse to get to see him again. Whether I agree to his plan or not, at least I know he’ll be here tomorrow. I spent the last week avoiding him, and I would never admit it aloud, but I’d missed him.
Friends with benefits.
Humph.
Way to stick to your guns, Reeves.