SUNDAY WAS A complete blur. I spent the entire day in bed, unless I had to use the bathroom or get something from the kitchen. After several missed calls and texts from Joey, I finally turned my phone off and kept it that way the rest of the day. Juls probably made him aware of Reese being married, but whereas she was into lecturing me about the topic, Joey would high-five me, insisting I tell him every juicy detail about the hook up, and I wasn’t in the mood for either. I didn’t want to think about the best orgasm I’d ever had. I didn’t want to think about the way his lips felt against mine, against my skin, the taste of his mouth, his smell, the way his face looked when he came, the sound of my name on his lips, the way he looked at me as he fucked me against the sink, or how ridiculously huge he was; because he was married. He was fucking married and a complete tool for hooking up with me behind his wife’s back. I can’t even have a one-night stand without it blowing up in my face. Then there was my jerk of an ex-boyfriend. Following me outside and putting his hands on me like that when he should have been glued to his new wife’s side. Talk about a scumbag. Of course, he did get cheated on at his own wedding, which could not delight me more. That bastard got everything he deserved and whatever else is coming to him. I hope he doesn’t find out about his wife’s indiscretions for a while and thinks he’s in a loving marriage. When in reality, she is out fucking anything that moves.
My alarm annoyingly wakes me at five a.m. on Monday, as usual. I like to get a run in every morning before I open up the shop, mainly because of the large amount of sugar consumption that happens regularly between Joey and me during work hours. Dressing in my running gear, I grab my phone and keys off my nightstand and go downstairs into the large kitchen. I live in a small loft above the bakery and have since I opened the place three years ago. It’s practical for me living at my job since some days I’m required to get up in the middle of the night to work on something for a client. My loft consists of one large room, which I separated into two with a decorative screen, giving my bedroom area some privacy from the living room and kitchen. It is small, quaint, and cheap. Renting the room above the bakery only costs me eight hundred and fifty dollars a month, which is relatively inexpensive for the downtown Chicago area. Below the loft, the stairs dump out into the large kitchen/work space, which I spend the majority of my time in, with a doorway that leads out to the main bakery. I make my way through the doorway and smile at Joey’s face, which is pressing against the glass, peering inside. He never misses a run. I step outside and lock up behind me, seeing his angry expression glaring at me as I spin to greet him.
“Well, thank God you aren’t dead. What the fuck? I called you a million times yesterday.” He stretches his back by twisting from left to right. “I believe I told you I wanted details.”
I bend down and reach for my toes and he does the same. “I’m sorry. I needed to mentally check out yesterday. The wedding was a bit much.” Understatement of the century. Stretching my hamstrings, I stand up and press my hand against the window of the bakery to steady myself.
“And are you going to just stand there and not tell me what the fuck that means?”
“I’m sure you already know everything, you gossip queen. Hasn’t Juls spilled the big surprise?”
We start jogging down the sidewalk together, our feet hitting the pavement at the same time. It’s already hot as hell outside and that just ups my annoyance level.
“What big surprise? Juls spent the rest of the reception sucking Ian’s face and God knows what else, and I ate my weight in cake after I saw Billy flirting with a waiter.”
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry, Joey. That really sucks.”
“Whatever. He ended up driving me home, and I did him in the back of his Denali as punishment.”
I push his arm, but he doesn’t budge. The man is a mountain of muscle. “Jesus. Well, I guess you showed him.”
“Oh, I did. Now, what surprise?”
We make our usual trek down Fayette Street on the deserted sidewalk, Joey initiating the pace as he always does.
“Reese is married.” God, it still sucked today saying it out loud. And why did my heart physically ache at the sound of it. I couldn’t be that affected by a wedding hook up, no matter how good the sex was. I stop running and look back at Joey who is frozen on the pavement, his blond curls already sticking to his forehead with sweat.
“He’s what?” He starts up again, momentarily stunned, and I move with him.
“You heard me. Fucking married. Of course, he didn’t mention this before, during, or after our hot as hell sex in the men’s bathroom. He just simply asked me ‘What the fuck was that?’ after he came, told me he was sorry, and went on about his business.” I push my legs faster as we run up a small hill, feeling the burn in my thighs.
“What a dick. Are you sure though? I mean, I didn’t see a ring and you know I hunt that out first thing.”
“Yeah, so do I. Apparently, Ian told Juls that he was married. He probably didn’t wear his ring so he could fuck me blind. Oh, and I almost forgot, to top the night off, Justin followed me outside and alluded to me fucking him since married men are my thing now.” Asshole.
Joey snaps his head toward me, eyes wide. “Are you fucking serious right now? Where the fuck was I when all this was happening? Oh, that’s right. I was eating my goddamned feelings.” He picks up his pace as I struggle behind him.
“Slow down! Your legs are miles longer than mine.”
“Crap, sorry.” He returns to my side. “I’m sorry about Reese, cupcake. I really am. But—”
“Don’t fucking say it, Joey.” I know exactly what his next words would be.
“I’m just saying—”
“Shut it, Holt,” I grit out as he spins around to face me, effortlessly running backward.
“You could be the sexy mistress. If the sex was that good, why give it up?”
Now I start sprinting and hear a squeal from him as he catches up within seconds. “Are you mental? I am not going to be his fuck buddy on the side. I don’t care how amazing the sex was or how hard he made me come. Fuck that shit.” I wipe my forehead with the back of my hand, the sweat already starting to build on my skin.
“Ooohhh, how hard did he make you come? Was he huge? Please tell me it didn’t have some weird hook to it like Billy’s did.” He shakes his head quickly. “I’m not quite sure how I feel about that yet.”
“Jesus Christ. It is way too early to talk about dick sizes and which way they curve.” I pause. “But for the record, he’s massive and as straight as you pretended to be in high school.”
“I fucking knew it. You lucky bitch.”
We run in silence the rest of the way around the neighborhood, the only noises coming from us being our breathing and the sound of our shoes striking the pavement. I run fast and hard, desperately trying to push the memory of Reese and our hook up out of my mind and hoping to run away from it. But that isn’t going to happen, at least not today, and it isn’t happening for my running partner either. I can almost hear Joey’s mind working as we run, most likely coming up with all the possible secret rendezvous scenarios between Reese and myself. Needless to say, the five-mile trek today is both mentally and physically exhausting.
I shower and dress for the day after saying goodbye to Joey, so he can do the same. He only lives a few blocks from the bakery and will be back before we open at seven a.m. He is my only employee at the moment, seeing as I haven’t gotten around to hiring anybody to replace Tiffany after I fired her. I’m not entirely sure I need anybody else to work for me; Joey and I seem to manage just fine on our own. I grew up with him, going to high school together, and then to college where we both studied business. He was more than supportive when I dreamed of opening my own bakery and insisted on becoming my assistant so we could stay close. Although, deep down, I think he just wanted to sample all my new creations. Thank God for our daily runs, otherwise, I’m certain we would both be as big as a house.
I tie my favorite apron on and begin pulling the pastries, muffins, cupcakes, and cookies from the back racks and bringing them up front to the display cases. The house specialty is my banana nut muffins, which I spent five years perfecting the recipe on. They’re insanely delicious and it’s a struggle not to eat every one myself straight out of the oven. I sell out of them every day by noon and nothing makes me prouder. At a few minutes before opening, Joey comes hustling through the door carrying two coffees and his award-winning smile.
“I’m dick talked out, so don’t even,” I say as I open the register and count the money.
“Cupcake, there’s no such thing, trust me. I had them put in an extra shot of espresso for you this morning, figured you might need it,” he says, walking around the counter. “Although, perhaps you’d prefer hard liquor with your coffee today?” He hands me my piping hot cup and I smile weakly. He is handsomely dressed in dark jeans and a bright blue polo shirt that brings out the color in his eyes.
“Thanks and, yes, liquor would be my preferred beverage this morning, but I don’t think the sight of me stumbling around the shop wasted off my ass would be good for business.” I take a sip and let the hot liquid run down my throat, instantly perking me up as the front door swings open. “Good morning. And how are my favorite regulars today?”
Mr. and Mrs. Crisp live around the corner and come into the shop every morning for two of my banana muffins. They are beyond adorable and always start my day off with a smile when I see them. “Well, besides the fact that this one kept me up all night, snoring, we are just fine, Dylan.” Mrs. Crisp motions toward her husband who smiles sweetly at her.
“You love it, dear. I’m sure you told me once how my snoring helps you sleep.” Mr. Crisp lovingly rubs his wife’s back as she bats him away playfully.
“Oh, that’s ridiculous, Harry,” she huffs. I pull out their muffins as I smile and place them in a bag, grabbing the money that was placed on the counter. “And how was the wedding, dear? You stick it to that nasty, no good ex of yours?”
I roll my eyes after handing Mr. Crisp his change. “Not the way I would have liked to.” I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the counter. “Whatever, I’m just glad it’s over with. The cake looked amazing and was apparently delicious.” I motion toward my assistant who is nibbling on a muffin. “This one ate an entire tier by himself.”
He snorts loudly at my declaration. “It was not an entire tier. Well, actually, yeah it probably was.” The four of us all laugh together as he devours his breakfast. The man can put away the sweets.
The front door swings open, getting our attention, and an older gentleman carrying a white box walks in and up to the counter. Mr. and Mrs. Crisp wave their goodbyes and slip out.
“Can I help you?” I ask, staring at the box questionably. It doesn’t have any labels on it, giving no indication as to where it’s from.
He places it in front of me with a smile. “Good morning. Delivery for a Ms. Dylan.” My eyes widen as Joey steps next to me.
“What the hell did you order?” he asks as I sign the slip for the man.
“I didn’t order anything, I don’t think. Who sent this?” The man just shrugs and takes his clipboard, pushing the box toward me on the counter and walking quickly out of the bakery. We both stare at the box, glancing up and meeting each other’s eyes.
“Well, aren’t you going to open it?” he asks, arching his brows at me.
I study it suspiciously before replying. “I don’t know; don’t bombs come in unmarked packages?”
“Who the hell would try to bomb you?”
“Well, for starters, a certain wife of a certain someone who banged my back out Saturday night,” I huff. He makes a face at me and pulls the white ribbon that is tied on the top, lifting the sides of the box to reveal a folded brown card on top of white tissue paper. I open the card and quickly scan the handwriting.
Dylan,
I fucked up. I’m so sorry. I would love to see you again.
X Reese
My mouth drops open. “You have got to be kidding me.” I hand the card to Joey and hear him gasp after a fleeting moment.
“Holy shit. He would love to see you again? Dylan!”
Snatching the card back, I pull apart the tissue paper and cock my head to the side as I stare at the contents of the box. “What the hell?”
Joey leans in and gawks. “Oh, my God. This has to be the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”
I pull out a pound of flour and drop it on the counter as he squeals next to me. “Why would he send me flour?” I am beyond confused right now while my assistant is bouncing around like a bunny. You would think by the way he’s reacting that I’m currently staring at an engagement ring instead of baking supplies.
“Don’t you get it? Instead of flowers he sent you flour since you’re a baker. Shit, that’s romantic.”
I shove him and he doesn’t budge. “Romantic? A married man just wrote me saying he wants to keep fucking me on the side. He’s married, Joey. This is not romantic. It’s sleazy and disgusting.” Picking up my coffee and stepping away from the counter, I stare at the flour and take generous sips. This is insane and my assistant is an idiot.
“You’re missing some key adjectives there. A hot married man wants to keep rightly fucking you on the side. You must have blown his mind, girl. Plus, he sends you presents? I want him as my secret boyfriend.”
I shake my head. “What a pompous asshole. He must think I’m some two-bit whore to willingly submit to this joke of a request. Fucking douche-bag.” I pick the card up and toss it in the trash as Joey lunges for it. “Leave it.”
“No. At least keep it for a day. You might change your mind.”
“You are high off your ass if you think I would actually consider this.”
“I fucking wish I was high right now. That would be an excuse for my insane case of the munchies.” He throws his hands up dramatically.
We both giggle at each other and the situation. Of course, this is my life. I couldn’t have some hot guy, who gave me the best orgasm, be interested in me. No, that would be too normal. He has to be a hot married best orgasm giver with a mouth I would pay to have on me again. Figures.
The morning went by quickly with the steady flow of customers. Mondays are always busier in the bakery, mainly with walk-in specialty requests, which I enjoy immensely and Joey hates. He prefers that I’m not tied up in consultations all day so we can chitchat and gossip. It’s close to noon when Juls walks in, looking as chic as ever in her tight pencil skirt, white blouse, and heels to die for. I really need to raid her closet someday. Besides the height difference between us, we’re similarly built and could swap clothes easily. We’re both slender yet toned, given how religious we both are about our exercise routines.
“Hello, lovies. And how is everyone’s Monday going?”
I moan as Joey smiles big, showing off his lonely dimple. “You look hot, Juls. Got a meeting with an annoying couple?” I ask as I straighten out the remaining red velvet cupcakes in the display case.
“Actually, I was just about to head over to Ian’s work to have lunch. You know I gotta look good for my baby.”
I perk up. Perfect. I could tell him off in person. “Mind if I joined you?”
She tilts her head to the side as Joey gasps dramatically. “Are you going to confront him?” The excitement in his voice is almost palpable.
I nod firmly. “Hell yes, I am. If he thinks he can proposition me to be his dirty little secret, he is seriously mistaken.”
“Excuse me? What the fuck have I missed?” Juls brings both hands to her hips and stares at me, waiting for an explanation. Of course, before I can speak, Joey opens his big gay mouth.
“Well,” he rests his chin on his hand, “Reese sent our sexy friend here a note with some flour saying he was sorry about fucking up and would love to see her again.” His grin cracks his face open. “Isn’t that fantastic?”
She stares at us with a furrowed brow. “Are you serious? Oh, damn it, I meant to confront him at the wedding after you left, Dyl, but he actually disappeared pretty soon after you did. Besides,” she straightens out her skirt, “I was a bit preoccupied. Wait, did you say he sent you flour? As in baking flour?” I nod and she raises her eyebrows, her mouth slowly forming an O. “Ah, instead of the traditional flowers. That’s actually pretty clever.”
I stomp my foot. “Oh, for fuck’s sake. Why am I the only person who didn’t get that? And it wasn’t clever. It was stupid, because he’s stupid.”
“Wow, you’re really gutting him with that insult,” Joey states sarcastically as I pull my apron off. I throw it at his face.
“Well?” I ask, turning to Juls.
“Well what?”
“Can I come with you?”
“Oh, hell yes. I would love to see you chew him a new one. I can’t stand cheaters.” We both move toward the door as I nod in agreement.
“Hey! What about me?” Joey yells.
I turn my head. “You need to stay here and man the shop. What, did you think I was going to close down for this?”
“Goddamn it! This is why we need another employee, Dylan. I fucking miss everything.”
“Don’t worry; I’ll give you all the details after I cut off his testicles.” Juls and I walk out of the shop together and toward her car as I give myself a mental pep talk. Yell first then remove balls or remove balls then yell? Hell, does it matter?
I’m slowly beginning to lose my edge as we walk into the crisp sleek foyer of the Walker & Associates building. Juls’ heels are clicking on the marble and I inwardly curse myself for not changing my outfit before I so bravely decided this was a good idea. I’m wearing a pale blue button up shirt, skinny jeans that are dusted in flour, and my favorite ballet flats. This would have been so badass if I was wearing something sexy and revealing, showing Reese what he will never touch again. Damn it, Dylan. Think next time. At least my hair and makeup are on point. We step off the elevators onto the twelfth floor and I follow closely behind her, unsure where to go.
“Nervous?” she asks as she walks up to a small reception area.
“Nope, but he better be.” She throws her head back and laughs as I wiggle my brows.
“Julianna Wicks for Ian Thomas, please,” she says to the pretty receptionist who smiles and picks up the phone, talking softly into it. She ends the call quickly.
“Go right in, Ms. Wicks.”
She shrugs playfully. “I fucking love this shit. My man is so important that I need to check-in with someone before I barge in.” I giggle at her and follow her through a closed door after she knocks quietly.
“There’s my girl. I’ve been waiting for you.” Ian stands up and walks around his desk, pulling Juls into his arms and smothering her with quick kisses. Christ, they are annoyingly adorable. “I’m starving and not just for food,” he whispers before his eyes flick to me. “Dylan. Are you joining us for lunch today?” he sweetly asks as he plays with the ends of Juls’ hair. He sounds sincere, but I have a feeling he’d much rather spend his lunch alone with my best friend.
I clear my throat. You can do this, Dylan. “Actually, I was wondering if Reese was here. I need to speak with him.” Juls is too busy frantically working at loosening Ian’s tie to even remember I’m in the room. I’m sure she would have snuck in a bitchy remark had she been paying attention.
“Oh, of course.” He smiles wide. “Just continue down the hallway until you see the redhead at the reception desk. She’ll point you in his direction.” I nod and turn on my feet, giving Juls one last glance as I step out, closing the door behind me.
He’s married. He’s married. He’s married. Who cares how fucking insanely hot he is. He’s married. My thoughts are so loud in my head; I’m sure the redhead, who I am now standing in front of, can hear them. I smile weakly at her.
“May I help you?” she asks in a rather snippy tone.
“Um, yes. I would like to see Reese, please.”
She cocks her head and narrows her eyes. Jesus. Retract the claws. Picking up her phone, her eyes run slowly down my body. “You mean Mr. Carroll? And who may I say is asking for him?”
Mr. Carroll. Oh, how fucking formal. I glare down at her. “Dylan.”
“Just Dylan?” Her tone is borderline bitchy and I am beyond over it at this point. Sweetie, this is not the day to test my patience.
“Yes, just Dylan,” I snap back, hands fisting at my sides.
She rolls her eyes and speaks softly into the phone, slamming it down with more force than is probably necessary. “Go on in, just Dylan.” She motions with a quick swipe of her hand toward a door that stands at the end of the hallway. What the hell is her problem?
“Thank you. Have a nice day,” I reply extra cheerfully to pluck her last nerve. She scowls. Mission Accomplished.
Not bothering to knock, I open the office door and step inside, stumbling a bit at the sight of the man behind the massive desk. Yup, that’s what he looks like. Completely perfect. His eyes slowly come up to mine from his computer screen and soften.
“Dylan, this is a pleasant surprise. I assume you received my package?”
I close the door behind me and cross my arms. “Yeah, cute pun. Do you have a minute?”
He smiles and I stumble a bit. “For you? I have several.”
Standing up, he gracefully moves his body around the desk and sits on the edge, crossing his long legs in front of him at the ankles and bracing himself on his hands. I shake my head at his cockiness. Damn it to hell. If he wasn’t so gloriously attractive, this would be so much easier. He stands before me in a light blue dress shirt, gray plaid tie, and khakis, his hair a perfect mess and his green eyes freezing me where I stand. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for me to speak. I could speak. I had a lot to say. But right now, I want to either throw him down and fuck him right on his desk or slap him so hard across his face that he will feel it next week. Hmm, I could do both. Oh, Christ, Dylan. No. Slapping him. That sounds satisfying. I move quickly, his eyes widening as I stop just in front of him and strike him across his face, a loud crack echoing throughout the room.
“Jesus Christ,” he almost yells, his hand coming up and rubbing his now reddened cheek. “What the fuck?”
“You fucking prick. Who the hell do you think you are?”
He stands up, towering over me in my flats. Fuck, he’s as big as a tree. “Okay, I probably deserved that.” His tone is sharp, but he doesn’t sound angry. He seems more concerned than anything. “Look,” he pauses, rubbing his cheek, “I’m sorry I kind of shut down after the bathroom. I’m not used to sex getting to me like that, and I handled it like an asshole.”
I see red. “Are you serious right now? That’s why you’re sorry? Because you freaked out afterward?”
“Yes, well, that and the fact those men saw you in there with me. I’m sure they knew exactly what we’d been doing.” He steps closer to me. “Why the fuck else would I be sorry? I’m not sorry it happened. Are you?”
I push against his chest, but he doesn’t move. Damn it, I need to start lifting weights. “Yes, I’m sorry it happened. I do not fuck married men, Reese!” I’m shouting now and my throat begins to ache, but not enough to make me stop. However, his current look of confusion is taking away some of my fire. He’s a smart guy. Why isn’t he grasping this?
“Okay, that’s good to know,” he says with a furrowed brow.
“Great. Now you know. So stay the fuck away from me.” I go to leave, but I’m stopped by his grip on my arm, turning me around to face him.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
I step out of his grasp and look down at his left hand, narrowing in on his bare finger. “You asshole. Why don’t you wear your ring? Hoping to get your dick sucked behind that massive desk of yours by some girl who doesn’t know you’re married?”
His look stuns me. I expected him to get angry with me for slapping him, maybe a bit disappointed in me for not wanting to pursue this any further, but the amused look on his face is not what I expected. He runs his hands down his face and laughs, stopping only when he sees my hardened expression.
“Married? Who the fuck told you I was married?”
I step back. “Juls. Answer my question. Why don’t you wear your ring?”
“Really? And where did Juls hear I was married?”
I throw my hands up in frustration. “What the fuck does that matter? From Ian. Who else?”
He grabs my hand and pulls me with him toward the door, swinging it open and storming down the hallway.
“Where are we going? Let go of me.”
“Shut up, Dylan.” My fighting is useless. He is clearly on a mission as he walks toward Ian’s office door, dragging my infuriated self behind him. “We’re settling this right now.”
“Settling what?”
“Mr. Carroll, Mr. Thomas told me to hold his calls.”
“It’s fine, Jill,” he grunts at the nice receptionist as he swings the office door open, pulling me into the room with him.
“Fuck. What the fuck, Reese?” Ian’s voice causes me to shriek, and then I focus on what is happening in front of me. My eyes widen at the sight of Juls bent over Ian’s desk, completely naked and getting fucked from behind. Ian quickly moves and covers her up as Reese and I spin around and shut the door to keep the curious eyes from the hallway from getting a show.
“Shit. Uh, sorry, man. This will only take a minute,” Reese says as we both stare at the door.
“Jesus Christ, Dylan. I was so fucking close,” Juls growls.
I hold my hands up. “This was not my idea. Blame the asshole next to me.” His head flicks toward mine and I stare him down. Yeah, that’s right. I said it.
“Well? What the fuck is it?” Ian asks, still out of breath.
“Why the hell did you tell Juls I am married?”
He laughs. “Uh, I didn’t. You? Married? That’s fucking hilarious. Babe, who told you Reese was married?”
“You did. Last week when we all went to The Tavern after work. Right?” She sounds nervous and suddenly unsure of herself.
“This is so fucking stupid. Can I go please?” I ask and Reese’s arm shoots out and prevents me from grabbing the door handle. I try to push it away, but my efforts are useless.
“Babe, I think you’ve mistaken Reese for Trent. Trent is married.”
My stomach drops.
“Oh. Oh, fuck, you’re right. Dylan, I’m so sorry. Shit, I really thought it was Reese. Honest mistake though, right?” She giggles nervously and clears her throat.
I drop my head into my hands. “Jesus Christ,” I groan, hearing a muffled laugh coming from my left, and suddenly I want to hurl myself out the nearest window. Oh, God, this is awkward.
“Well, now that there’s no confusion, can you two love birds please get the fuck out so I can finish?” Ian utters through a laugh. “And lock the door behind you.”
“Yup. Uh, meet you downstairs, Juls.” I quickly open the door, beginning to make my way toward the elevators when a pair of hands grab my waist and spin me.
“Oh, no. I don’t think so,” Reese states, gripping my elbow and leading me back down the hallway and straight to his office. Shit. He’s not married. Now what?