Chapter Six
“What the hell is this?” Sally asked.
Paige snapped her head up as her friend pointed to the large men’s promo T-shirt currently draped over the clothing rack along with her denim skirt and tank top. It was Sunday afternoon, a full day after the mixology class, and Paige still hadn’t been able to get Noah’s kiss out of her head.
God, she’d been an idiot. Who on earth would be dumb enough to make a bet with their boss? A kissing bet, no less. So childish. So stupid.
She was egging him on even though he wasn’t her type. Not only that, but they were going in different directions in life, and Paige wasn’t about to compromise her values for a pretty face. Or a hot body.
Or a pair of lips that could kiss her senseless and melt every brain cell in her head.
Vodka. It’s definitely a booze-related mistake…like the Naked Pirouette part II.
“Did you have someone stay over?” Sally’s eyes bulged. “Did you have a man stay over?”
“No, of course not. I wouldn’t defile your couch like that.”
“I was more worried about you corrupting Damon.” She laughed. “I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t appreciate a live sex show in the middle of the living room. Although if you do want to have someone over when I’m out, you can put him in the cat carrier.”
Paige smirked. “Does that invitation extend to any time I’m home by myself?”
Sally poked her tongue out and scooped up the cat. It was incredible how the furry beast could turn from a demonic fur ball with razor-sharp claws poised to attack to a boneless clump of purring cuteness as soon as Sally touched him.
Suck-up.
“He’s a perfect little kitty. I don’t know what your problem is.” Sally rubbed her nose against Damon’s head. “That Paige is such a meanie face, isn’t she, my darling?”
Paige pretended to stick two fingers down her throat, and she could have sworn that Damon’s eyes narrowed at her. “My problem is that I’m certain he’s plotting to kill me in my sleep. Do you know I woke up the other morning and he was sitting on the coffee table, one paw hovering over my face? If I hadn’t woken up, he would have slashed me.”
“He wants to play. It’s an affection thing.” Sally carried Damon like a baby into the kitchen to get his food out of the fridge.
“It’s a demon cat thing,” Paige muttered as she hung up the rest of her washing.
“Hey, I was thinking we should go out tonight,” Sally said from the kitchen over Damon’s meowing. “Grab a few drinks and shake our moneymakers.”
“I seriously doubt my butt would make any money.” Paige checked herself out in the full-length mirror that sat against the wall. Yep, pancake butt still intact.
“I’m ignoring that self-deprecating BS,” Sally replied. “You don’t start until later tomorrow, right?”
“Yeah, I’m on the lunch cover.” Paige bit down on her lip. A night out with Sally sounded fantastic, but there was this little problem of her dwindling savings. She’d be choking down a healthy dose of guilt along with her cocktails if she went out. “I’d love to, Sal, but you know I can’t spend much at the moment.”
“We’ll go to the Wooden Llama. It’s a really cute café that turns into a bar at night. They move all the tables out back to make a dance floor. Plus, they have two-for-one cocktails on Sundays because it’s ladies’ night.”
At least that would get her out of the house and stop her from obsessing over what’d happened at the mixology class on Friday night. Noah’s naked torso had been burned into her brain. The memory of his tongue sliding against hers sent a shiver down her spine.
It’d been so long since she’d been with a guy, and normally that didn’t bother her. She believed firmly that sex was something to be shared with a person you cared about, not simply a warm and willing body. For her, casual sex was a no-go. But there was something about Noah that got her blood pumping and her libido screaming like it was New Year’s Eve and Mardi Gras rolled into one.
Highly unlike her. All the attraction in the world wouldn’t change the fact that while they were working together, he was off-limits.
But you won’t be working there forever…
“Come back from fairyland. I’m talking about cheap drinks and dancing.” Sally came out of the kitchen and shook her head. “Not asking you to ponder the meaning of life.”
“I guess I can’t really say no to two-for-one cocktails, can I?” Besides, getting out of the house and keeping her mind off Noah was the smart thing to do.
Sally grinned. “No, you can’t.”
By the time they arrived at the Wooden Llama the place was packed. So packed, that Paige was sure a sardine tin would have been roomier. Oh well, who needed personal space anyway? That was part of big-city living. Packed bars, packed roads, packed trains. She tried not to cringe as a big, burly guy squeezed past her, his armpit uncomfortably close to her nose.
“Is it always like this?” Paige asked as they pushed their way through to the bar. She was thankful now that she’d allowed Sally to rope her into wearing a tiny little black dress. Not because she thought it looked good, but because the bare skin would help her keep cool.
“Sunday nights aren’t usually so busy, but they’ve been promoting the hell out of it.” Sally shrugged. “It’ll be fine out back. It’s only the bar area that gets crazy.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I’m always right.” Sally flagged down a bartender and ordered their drinks, shoving aside Paige’s hand clutching a twenty-dollar bill. “It’s on me.”
“I’m not letting you pay for everything.”
“Why not? I signed another corporate logo design job and those guys pay through the nose. Money’s not a problem, babe.” Sally shot her a rueful smile. “And I feel guilty that I’m ditching you at the end of the month.”
Like she needed the reminder. While Paige was floundering, Sally was flourishing. She didn’t resent her friend’s success, of course, but it didn’t fit with her view on the way the world worked. Paige had followed the rules. She’d gotten good grades, gone to university, studied hard, eschewed distractions (well, after the Naked Pirouette incident, anyway), and generally been a model worker.
Sal, bless her free-spirited heart, had given the rules the middle finger. But she was the one with an apartment, a well-paying job, and a boyfriend who was crazy about her and ready to take the next step. Paige had been taught early on that being a good girl led to getting ahead, but these days she was starting to question whether that was true.
The more she craved success, the further away it seemed to be.
“I feel like I’m dancing the line between accepting help and taking advantage of you,” she said as the bartender poured their drinks. The frothy, pale yellow cocktail looked perfectly delicate garnished with a wafer-thin slice of cucumber.
“I know you’ll pay me back when you’re sitting on the board of some big company and I’ve lost all my money and am living in a hippie commune.” Sally grinned and brushed a strand of curly blond hair out of her face. “Or in a beach hut in Byron Bay.”
“You fancy yourself a bit of earth-woman, Sal, but I know for a fact you’re wearing a forty-dollar lipstick.” Paige chuckled as she grabbed her cocktail from the bartender. “You’re not fooling me.”
“I like pretty things, so sue me.”
They wove through the three-deep crowd at the bar and found spot at the edge of the makeshift dance floor. The music was trendy and fun, and Paige found herself moving to the beat as she sipped her drink. She relished the cooling sensation of the cocktail sliding down the back of her throat. Dancing and drinks would do her good, help her to lose the pent-up energy that was making her feel edgy and tightly coiled.
It was the stress of her situation, that was all. That and the fact that she’d been so focused on finding work that she hadn’t let her hair down for months. Not since the night she’d accepted the job at the accounting firm and signed the lease on her apartment. She and Sally had sat on the floor, drinking champagne and giggling. It’d felt like her life was finally going in the direction she wanted.
If only she’d known that in a few short months she’d be back at square one.
“No frowning,” Sally said, poking her sharply with one painted fingernail. “Drink up. It’s time to dance.”
What the hell? She brought the cocktail up to her lips and tipped it down the hatch. Tonight, she’d put the rules to the back of her mind.
…
Noah leaned back in his chair and sucked in a long breath. He couldn’t have asked for a better night—cool breeze, beer in his hand, and the company of two gorgeous women. So why was he fidgeting in his seat?
“Bloody hell, Noah. Will you stand up and shake out whatever bug has crawled into your jocks? You haven’t sat still for three seconds since we got here.” His youngest sister, Ginnie, shook her head, sending black curls bouncing around her pixie face. She narrowed her dark eyes at him. “What is going on?”
“Nothing’s going on. It’s been a big week.” He took a long gulp of his beer.
“You’re supposed to be Mr. Chill,” Megan, his other sister, said with a frown. She was all lightness—white-blond hair and pale eyes—in contrast to Ginnie’s darkness. “I thought I was the uptight one.”
“I can’t handle two of you.” Ginnie grabbed Noah by the shoulders and shook him as hard as her skinny little bird arms would allow. “Snap out of it now!”
“Hey, respect the beer.” Noah plonked the bottle down on a small table in front of him to avoid spilling the liquid gold. “I thought you two would appreciate me being serious for once.”
“No way.” Megan shook her head. “I am not giving up that crown.”
Megan was a bank branch manager in the small country town she’d moved to with her fiancé two years ago. At twenty-six, she was the youngest manager in her division, had won several awards for her hard work, and had completely blossomed as a human being. She was a far cry from the sensitive young girl who’d refused to set foot outside the house by herself for her first three years in foster care.
Ginnie, on the other hand, was twenty-one and currently smashing it at university. She worked two jobs as well as studying and hadn’t changed one iota from the day he’d met her as a rambunctious five-year-old.
They may “only” be foster siblings, but he loved them like nothing else. Where he came from, blood connections didn’t count for shit; it was the family you chose to surround yourself with that really mattered. He was just lucky that the girls had forgiven him for abandoning them.
“That’s right,” Ginnie said. “Megan’s the serious one, you’re the protective one, I’m the funny one, and Amanda’s the…”
The smile slipped from her lips, and she dropped her hands into her lap. As the baby of the family she wanted everyone to stick together, and she put her older brother and sisters on a pedestal whether they deserved it or not.
“The unreliable one,” Megan offered, her lips set into a hard line. “Or the criminal one, that could also work. How about—”
“Enough.” Noah didn’t ever need to shout to get people’s attention—he’d learned that early on. Being a big guy with a deep voice, he often found that a quiet word had more impact. “We’re still family, remember?”
“How can you say that after what she did?” Megan shook her head. “How could you possibly defend her after she stole money from you?”
Noah sighed. Sometimes he wondered if he might’ve done things differently if the clock were turned back. Would he still leave if there was a chance to do things over?
Guilt had shadowed him for years after he walked out of his last foster home, because it was a selfish move. But getting out and forging his own space in the world—independently and without needing anyone’s permission—was the only thing that’d stopped him from going off the deep end. However, it’d come at a cost.
He’d left the girls in the presence of their foster brother, a recreational drug user and wannabe dealer who’d seen them only as potential customers. Not that his foster parents had believed Noah when he’d told them what their precious son was doing behind closed doors—no one had. In fact, the one time they’d found some pills in the house, Noah had taken the blame. His foster father, Bob, had torn him to shreds, never once for a second believing that someone else might be responsible.
He couldn’t stay in that environment; his self-esteem had taken a beating for too long. So he left…and ultimately, Amanda had succumbed to her brother’s sales techniques. Maybe if Noah had stayed, he would have been able to protect her…
“I’m not defending her actions.” He reached for his beer and took another long gulp, memories swirling like a vicious tornado in his head. “But she has a problem, Megs. You know it’s not really her doing those things.”
“Isn’t it? It’s been a pattern for years now. You’ll have to stop making excuses for her eventually.”
“She’s getting help. That’s what matters.”
A lot of people probably would have cast a family member out for what his sister had done. Thieving, lying. But now that he was in a better place, he owed it to them to provide support. Especially to Amanda.
Megan folded her arms across her chest. “She was supposed to have gotten help last time.”
“Come on, Megs.” Ginnie sighed and wrung her hands. “I don’t want to fight. You hardly ever come to visit anymore, and we’re supposed to be having a good time.”
“We’re not fighting.” Megan’s expression softened. She looked as though she wanted to say more, but she stayed silent. “I promise.”
“Excellent. Because I’m thinking this might be a good time to tell you something.” Ginnie bounced in her seat, her dark eyes glittering.
“Why do I not have a good feeling about where this is going?” Megan’s eyes darted to Noah, and he stifled a laugh by running a hand over his jaw.
“Don’t look at me,” he said. “I’m not the boss of her.”
“Oh ye of little faith.” Ginnie huffed. “I was going to tell you I got an internship at Cosmo magazine in Sydney.”
“Thank God. I thought you’d done something stupid and gotten a tattoo.” Megan sighed.
“Hey.” Noah looked at her. “Not cool.”
“You don’t count. I won’t have to talk the parentals down from the ledge on your behalf.”
Too right. He hadn’t exactly maintained a close relationship with his foster parents after he walked out almost ten years ago. He was grateful, though, that Ginnie and Megan maintained a positive relationship with them.
“Hello, great big exciting announcement alert.” Ginnie waved her hands around. “I got my dream job.”
“Well, you got an internship, which is not quite a job,” Megan said, sitting up straighter when Noah shot her a look. “But that’s really wonderful, Gin. I know you wanted that one a lot. I’m happy for you.”
“I did, and it’s so competitive. They get hundreds of girls applying, and they chose me.” She squealed, and the sound shot right through Noah’s eardrum. “It’s going to be like The Devil Wears Prada…but hopefully without the mean boss.”
“I’m proud of you, Gin-gin.” Noah looked from one girl to the other, warmth kindling in his chest. “You two are blazing trails. Bob and Marie must be so pleased.”
He tried not to let the dark cloud of Amanda’s absence overshadow his time with his other sisters. Growing up the way he did, he knew that the ideal happy family wasn’t anything but a figment of people’s imaginations.
“I’m having a going-away party before I leave,” Ginnie said. “You should come. I’m sure they’d like to see you.”
He pushed up from his chair, eager to get away from the sudden volatile turn of their conversation. Talking about his foster parents never did much good—to the girls, they’d been white knights. Loving, caring, nurturing. To Noah…well, they’d done nothing but reinforce his fears that he wasn’t built for long-term.
“How about I get another round?” he said, and the girls nodded, already having moved on to talking about Ginnie’s “first-day outfit” for her internship.
Noah walked through the patio area, trying to shake off his conflicted feelings. Ginnie’s invite to attend her going-away party might seem like a throwaway comment, but she’d been angling for Noah to repair his relationship with his foster parents for years. The scars of the past ran deep, however. Bob and Marie McMahon had been the first adults to ever treat him like he belonged. But eventually they, too, lost hope that he’d ever be anything but a bad egg.
The music from inside the bar pulsated as Noah stepped inside, being careful to skirt the edge of the dance floor where sweaty bodies writhed to the beat. Maybe after the girls went home, he’d stay a while longer. Drown his sorrows at the bar or something pathetically cliché like that.
As he walked, something caught his eye from the dance floor, compelling him to stop. Paige. Her lithe body had been poured into a little black dress that was hot enough to melt the gates of hell. Damn.
It wasn’t an image that would soon be evicted from his mind. Especially since she’d been at the forefront of his thoughts all day. Her whole first week at the bar had been an exercise in restraint—his eyes constantly drifted to her. And he found himself making excuses to leave the office so he could chat with her while she worked. Then Friday night, kissing her and watching her walk away had given him a case of blue balls that he hadn’t experienced in quite a while.
Like DEFCON 1 level of blue balls.
The music pounded in time with his heartbeat as he watched her dance, her hips swinging and hands coming up to push the hair out of her eyes. She had a drink in her hand—something fruity-looking—and she stopped to take a sip. Her head lifted suddenly, as if she could feel his eyes on her, and their gazes locked. For a moment she did nothing but match his stare—then her body moved again. Her hips rocked from side to side, and her free hand smoothed over the hem of her dress. When she turned, he caught a glimpse of bare back that finished in a point above the curve of her butt.
I have a hard limit when it comes to getting involved with people at work…
Her words rang in his ears. Sure didn’t seem like it given the way her hips were rolling while she kept steady eye contact with him. And it sure as hell hadn’t seemed like it when she’d kissed him back with all her might. The girl was toying with him, taunting him in the wake of their bet. Cheeky minx.
Noah stifled a grin and headed for the bar. He was going to win, but he’d take his time. Get the upper hand so subtly that she wouldn’t even know it until it was too late. Noah might not be the model big brother or budding success story—but there was one thing he knew inside and out. Women.