Chapter Four

Beth

Maybe marketing isn’t the job for me after all. I jam the gearshift into park and head inside my apartment. I mean, if it were the job for me, wouldn’t I have had the most memorable first day ever?

Technically I did, just not in the way I wanted.

When I walk through the door I’m greeted with silence, and inside I’m screaming thank god. Just a few minutes of alone time, sitting on the couch with my eyes closed, is exactly what I need right now.

My roommate, Abby, is always open to share her opinions whether you ask for them or not. And nine out of ten times, they are the worst or most stupid thing I’ve ever heard. She wasn’t my first choice to move in with me, but alas, I needed the rent money and I was tired of losing roommates I actually like, so I chose her. That’s not to say I don’t like Abby, but the girl has definitely got a screw loose. Or ten. Or all of them. I have commitment issues, and Abby is the commitment issue.

Right now, though, I really need some time to hear myself think because, let’s face it, I’m not quitting. I want this job and, aside from working with Maverick, I think I’m going to really enjoy my time there. The problem is, how do I do it without wanting to throat punch him for how ashamed he made me feel that night or without trying to throw myself at him again? Somehow, behind all my annoyance, I still find him devastatingly gorgeous. Three different sex scene scenarios crossed my mind while he was in my office this afternoon. The one with him pressing my front against the wall while his body and hands explore mine from the back popped up when he marched over and closed my door without saying a word. Had I not opened it, I couldn’t promise I’d have held myself back from making one of those scenarios come true.

My cell rings and I eye the name that appears on the scene. Mom again. I silence the call. I have way too much going on to deal with her.

I let out a long and very dramatic sigh. What is going on with me? I don’t fantasize about men like this. It’s like my mind is screaming, “Be a lady!” while the rest of my body is screaming, “Take his clothes off!”

Shit, each time he spoke with that deep, throaty voice of his, all I heard was a voice that was up to no good and could force me to make bad choices. A voice that, had he commanded, would have made me do anything he wanted.

I am so totally screwed. Not just over him but the whole situation. I can’t compete against the boss’s nephew and the son. There is no way the company will pick me over either of them.

“Helllloooo,” Abby singsongs as she walks through the door. Poking her head around the wall between the kitchen and the living room, she smiles. “Tell me all about your day.”

I groan, loudly.

“That bad, huh?” she asks.

“It was worse than bad.”

Her brow raises and she leans against the wall with her arms crossed.

“There is this guy I’m working with who is a fucking scumbag and I have to work directly with him,” I tell her. “It’s going to be a long three months.”

“Geez, that’s twice in one week I’ve heard you complain about a guy. By your tone, I can’t decide which one you dislike more, the scumbag from work or the sleezeball from the weekend.”

She looks at me, her head tilting as she taps her foot.

“If you must know, the man is one and the same.”

“What? I thought your days of one-night stands were over,” she says.

I knew I shouldn’t have said anything to her. It was a weak moment and she wouldn’t leave me alone until I filled her in on my weekend.

“It was an attempted one-night stand,” I correct her, “and even if I had gone through with it, doing it again with him would be a horrific idea.”

“Why not? I do it all the time,” she says, and I honestly think she’s expecting a real answer. “And now he’s like, always accessible when you need to get some.”

Abby is the most promiscuous girl I’ve ever met, and she couldn’t care less what people think of her. Well, I think she cares more than she lets on, but that’s another story. I may be blunt, but I care. Some days I wish I didn’t, because it would be easier and take away some stress. Not that I have much to begin with, but landing this job would be a lot less stressful if I didn’t give a damn.

“My way is the fun way,” she adds.

“Your way is the trouble way,” I say.

“And what about this guy is trouble?” she asks. Nothing can really be defined as trouble to Abby. I know this because I used to think the most heartless people on earth were the cheaters. My dad did a fine job of teaching me that. He also, by lying to my mother and leading her on for a few years, taught me to develop a no nonsense approach to life. Abby though, Abby keeps reminding me that the second most heartless person is the one who helps someone cheat. If you can fall that far more than once in your life, you clearly don’t care about trouble. I’m blunt because I hate bullshit and too much bullshit leads to trouble, among other things—like believing something that isn’t real.

“Fuck. All right, where to start? Hmm, he’s the boss’s nephew,” I tell her.

“Eh, it could be worse.” She shrugs.

“My office has a fucking adjoining door with his because I work directly with him.”

“I still don’t see the problem, but yes, yikes. See, I told you it could be worse.” She pushes off the wall, talking as she heads for her room. “As you can gather, I don’t have much advice for you other than just have sex with him and get it over with. You’ll be less tense about working with him.”

“Abby!”

“What?” she yells from her bedroom. “I said I don’t have much advice for you, but I do know someone who might.”

“If you say Maverick, I’m going to give you a thirty-second notice to move out.”

“His name is Maverick? That’s a freaking sexy name,” she says, stepping back into the living room wearing a Black Alcove t-shirt.

“Abby…”

“All right, all right, Sara is stopping by the BA tonight. Come with me to work, we’ll serve you a few drinks and talk about your problems, and then you can decide what to do. Sometimes a less-than-sober brain can make some pretty awesome decisions.”

“I’m going to disagree with that, but a drink sounds pretty good. Just one though—I can’t drink too much since I have to work tomorrow and a lot of people to impress.”

* * *

Three glasses of wine later, I believe I can do anything. Mainly, work with Maverick without any side effects of his hot body in the room next to me. I won’t have any middle-of-the- day daydreams about him. I won’t envision the way he looks with his shirt off or how his pants look slightly unbuttoned and hanging off his hips just right so you can see that amazing v dipping right to the perfect bulge of—

“Seriously, whatever you’re thinking about or possibly drinking, I need some,” Kelsey says, and she’s practically blushing as she looks at Sara. Two of my best friends, married best friends, give each other a knowing look before focusing back on me.

“What’s that look for?” I put a hand up. “No, wait, don’t answer that. That is the exact look you two used to give each other when we would talk about Sky and Luke. Whatever you are thinking, stop. Stop right now.”

“Well, we’ve all gone through the denial phase of falling for a guy, Beth.”

“And yet your left ring fingers display how miserably you failed.” I wave my hand up. “This bare thing waves nothing but success.”

“It’s only day one. That will change,” Sara says.

Doubt it.

“It probably won’t, considering she tried to bang him over the weekend and it didn’t work out,” Abby so kindly reveals as she drops off another round of drinks at the table.

“You’re kidding.” Kelsey gasps, her hand over her chest.

“Thank you, Abby, for sharing that,” I say.

“Of course,” she grins and walks off.

Every day. Every. Day. I ask myself why I am still friends with her. How is anyone in our group still friends with her?

“You can’t just let her drop a bomb like that and not fill in the rest of the story,” Sara says.

“Well,” I take another drink. “That pretty much summed it up.”

“No way. There is the who, what, when, where, and how,” Kelsey adds.

“No, no, no, this is not another book idea,” I say.

“Everything can be made into a book,” Sara says.

“Yep,” Kelsey agrees. “As long as the right person is writing it, it’s true.”

“Well, if this is opening an idea for you, I’m not sharing anything.”

Their blank expressions surprise me. These two always have a comeback. Always.

When their silence continues, I crack. “What?”

“You are the bluntest person I know. You have never cared what we thought, yet something happened with this guy and now you’re all … secrets,” Sara says.

“You care what we think, so that means you care about him,” Kelsey adds.

This time, I don’t have anything to say. What in the heck have these two been smoking? Who comes up with this shit? Being blunt and sharing all my secrets are not the same thing.

“And I think that last line is my cue to leave,” I say, scooting out of the booth.

“No, no,” they both say.

“We never get to come out without the kids.” Kelsey pushes out her bottom lip.

“Technically,” I point to Sara’s growing belly, “you brought the kids.”

They laugh.

“If you two would stop birthing children, we could go out a lot more. If one of you isn’t pregnant, the other one is.”

I give them both a quick side hug as they are still seated. “I’ve got to get going. I don’t want to be late for my second day, and right now, I can already tell waking up is going to be hard to do.”

“You were always such a lightweight.” Sara laughs as I head out the door.

“Show him who’s boss,” Kelsey chimes in behind her. As lame as her comment might be, she has a point. I went to school for this. I busted my ass and devoted my time.

I may have said I was going home to get to bed, but that’s a lie. I need something to bring with me to work in the morning. Something to show him how dedicated I am.

Tomorrow I am going to show Maverick that he isn’t going to distract me and that I can do this pitch with or without him. Nothing he can do will stop me from earning this position.

Maverick

When I was younger, my mother used to tell me that I was the most headstrong little boy she knew. That I had more drive to accomplish things in life than most grown men she’d ever met. Aside from my father, of course.

Each time I came home from school with another A, another award, or a letter from the school explaining how I should be placed in advanced classes of some kind, she’d repeat those words to me. And each time she said them, I never wanted to let her down. I would do everything it took to be sure I was the man she always believed I was. I never did let her down, and now that she is gone, I’ve passed this feeling to my father.

I came back to my temporary apartment tonight, the one my father found for me before I even knew I was coming here, to consider a few ideas I have for social media promotion for the station. That’s our first task.

Everything came to a halt when I opened my email. The one from my father to Mark, the guy who despises me the most for landing more contracts, confirming him as my active replacement while I am out of the Rockland office.

I knew they’d have to continue my work without me, but a part of me was allowing myself to believe I could have both my job and the recruitment. Looks like I can’t.

I pull out my phone and let it ring longer than usual this time as I wait for my father to pick up the other end of the line. Either way, I want him to know that I am still available for anything he needs as his employee.

I tap the red button on my phone when the “Hi, you’ve reached me” message takes over and sit back on my brown leather couch.

I could always drive there this weekend. See how things are going. Find out if there is anything he needs me to do, even with my current status.

I wish I could say that status is under control, but I would be lying to myself.

Just because Beth is more beautiful than any other woman I’ve met before begins working in the same office doesn’t mean I have to be attracted to her. Then again, I met her beforehand, so I don’t really know where this falls.

No, I do know. I’m just struggling to accept it.

I grab my phone and scroll though the contacts. I need a distraction. A drink with the guys would do that, but since I’m not from here, I only know a few people from my previous visits. Of, course they all work for the company or used to—some left on their own choice.

I come to Drew’s name first and press send.

No answer.

Next up, Greg.

No answer.

I pass a few other names, most of whom I don’t feel like calling. Mainly because a drink sounds good but not drinking till I’m black-out drunk.

A name pops up that I honestly forgot was in my phone. Tyler Maron. I met him during the one semester I took a marketing class at Wind Valley college.

I press the green button and wait.

“Mav, it’s been a while.” There’s a chuckle to his greeting. If I recall, the last time I saw Tyler, we were leaving campus and this blonde chick marched up to him and hit him with her backpack. Right after he finished shouting at her to stop, she began screaming at him over something that had to do with a friend or girl who used to be a friend or something along those lines. I just know she was pissed.

“I figured you needed a decent amount of time to take care of your lady drama,” I say and somehow, the words immediately bring Beth to mind.

“Oh man, I will never forget that day, even if it was a couple years ago. I wish I could say any drama with that particular one is gone, but I fear she’ll always be around.”

I ask. “Care to meet for a drink and forget about it?”

He laughs more. “That is definitely something I can do. The BA in thirty?”

“The BA?”

“The Black Alcove bar. We went there once, I think, while you were here. It’s down near the park square.”

“Right, okay. I’ll see you there,” I agree and we hang up.

* * *

I push open the door to The Black Alcove and am instantly surprised at the number of people here on a Monday night. Being a college town—even during the summer months—probably has something to do with it.

I spot Tyler standing at the end of the bar. He’s leaning forward in a similar black slacks and button-down shirt ensemble that I am wearing, talking to a woman who’s balancing a small round tray on her hip. As I get closer, I recognize her as the same crazy girl from school that day.

“Hey man,” I say, grabbing his attention.

“Mav.” He shakes my hand. “It’s good to have you back in town.”

“It’s good to be back.” I nod and pull out a seat. He takes the one next to me.

“Abby, this is Maverick. Maverick, Abby.”

We shake hands and I smile, but I don’t miss the way her eyes narrow at me.

“Maverick, huh? That’s not a very common name,” she says.

“No, it’s not. I actually don’t know anyone else with the same name.”

She smirks.

“Neither do I, yet for some reason, I feel like I know you already.”

I start to speak, but her shout stalls me.

“Girls,” she yells down the bar. The women, one blonde and one brunette, turn to look at her. “This is Ty’s friend.” A large smile stretches across her face. “His name is Maverick.”

One jaw drops and a set of eyes go wide. Then they both break into a set of laughter.

“Abs, whatever you’re doing, stop,” Tyler says, and she rolls her eyes.

“You can wait for Luke or Sky to get your drinks.”

“Abby, seriously?” he asks. She just walks away.

I feel really out of place.

“Is there a reason you wanted to pick this bar? It doesn’t seem very relaxing,” I say.

“It is. I just never know what kind of mood Abby’s going to be in when she sees me. She was fine till you walked in. So thanks for that,” he says with a slight chuckle.

Once we have beers, we wander over to the only empty pool table out of the four along the back wall. Very similar to the bar in CO.

“You ever been in love, Maverick?” Tyler asks then pulls a pool stick from its place against the wall.

Beth’s face flashes to mind. I shake the thought and take a few gulps of my beer. “No sir. Not that I know of.”

“Well, if you ever do, take it from me. Anything you have to give up or fight for or break or whatever, just do it. If you don’t, you’ll be where I am and stuck trying to win her back.”

I glance back to the bar where Abby is watching us. Tyler takes the first shot, the pool cracking against the balls. After a while, he changes the conversation to sports, we drink two beers, and play three rounds of pool. By the end of the night, I walk out a hundred dollars richer and only slightly more confused on what I should about Beth. Or if I should do anything at all.