Chapter 23

Brooke

The door on my mailbox is sticking again, and when I give it a hard pull the damn thing comes right off. I stare at it morosely for a moment before grabbing my mail with a resigned sigh.

Classic Monday.

Trudging back up the slope of my driveway, I head to the passenger side of my vehicle where I toss the mailbox door onto the floor in exchange for the large pizza on the seat. I picked it up on the way home from an exhausting day at work so I wouldn’t have to cook dinner.

Oh, Monday. I used to love you.

When I lived in New York, the start of the new week was actually something to be excited about. I know that’s because I loved my job and the motivation I derived from it. That was the benefit of working for a great boss and mentor. I could put in a ten-hour day and still come home completely energized.

Here? Mondays are just kind of blah. The people are nice to work with, but the work isn’t all that challenging. Team services is absolutely not a two-person job. I end up doing most of the grunt work and my boss takes the credit for it, which is fine, but again, it’s just not that hard to arrange hotels, travel, and meals. I do think I would be more stimulated over in merchandising, but I have absolutely no clue if that’s even a real potential for me. Sebastian could just be blowing smoke up my ass about transferring there. He interviewed Nanette this afternoon and I haven’t heard a word from either her or him. Sebastian hasn’t even sent me any work to do, which is unusual.

With my purse hooked over the inside of my elbow, I balance the large pizza and bump the car door closed with my hip. The hockey game is going to be starting in about twenty minutes and I want to have my pajamas on and my first slice of pizza on a plate on my lap before they drop the puck.

Bishop and the team flew out this morning for a road game. I didn’t go for a few reasons. First and foremost, it was a short trip, out and back in one day to Houston. The hotel and catering confirmations could be handled via phone. I also wanted to be in the office today in case there was an actual job offer from Sebastian in the Merchandising Department, whether that offer was made to Nanette or me. And last, I didn’t go because I still had a guest in my house.

I unlock my front door without managing to dump the pizza, and when I push it open, my gaze immediately sweeps the interior to locate Nanette. She’s on the couch with the remote pointed toward the TV. She gives me a quick glance over her shoulder before turning back. “Hurry up. The game is going to be starting soon.”

It seems a passable truce has been reached between my houseguest and me. True to her word since her apology three days ago, Nanette has been an overly gracious guest. It made for a nice, stress-free weekend. I’d spent Saturday hanging out at my house doing laundry and general cleanup. Nanette helped out with that and we actually had some easygoing conversation along the way. She came to the game with me that night and was not bent out of shape at all when I told her I was going to stay at Bishop’s place. We offered to drop her somewhere but she said she was just going to hang at my house for the rest of the evening. I thought it was cool that she did not feel the need to go out and party, but Bishop wasn’t buying it. He called it “the calm before the storm.”

Yesterday I spent the entire day with Bishop and it was amazing. We went hiking in Papago Park in the morning and spent the afternoon chilling at his house, which also may have included some hanky-panky of the orgasmic kind. That evening he took me to an out-of-the-way Peruvian restaurant that he had heard good things about. Bishop and I are both adventurous eaters. We dined on seviche, anticuchos—or beef heart kebabs—and salty plantains. We were there for two hours and I don’t know where the time went.

He stayed with me at my house last night. We watched some TV on the couch, and with a full and happy belly, I fell asleep with my head on his lap. I don’t know how I made it into the bed, but I woke up this morning with him kissing my forehead and dashing off to catch the team plane to Houston.

I spent several moments after he left staring at the ceiling and replaying the last few days. We have fallen into a relationship. A real relationship. We haven’t talked about lies, fake engagements, or ways to mollify my father. We talked about each other, we held hands, and we ate meals together. We watched TV and he carried me to bed when I was asleep.

He didn’t even bother to wake me up to have sex, which I totally would’ve met with a big smile on my face.

But he didn’t.

And that somehow makes the relationship all the more real, because it meant that’s not the only reason he stayed the night.

Walking into the living room, I dump the pizza box onto the coffee table. I turn toward the hallway that leads to the bedrooms and call out to Nanette, “I’m going to get my pajamas on. Grab us some plates.”

“Got it,” she says.

It only takes moments to get out of my dress and into a pair of sleep shorts and a camisole top. My feet are always cold, so I put on a pair of fuzzy socks. I wash my face quickly, slapping on some moisturizer, and I’m ready for dinner and a hockey game.

When I make it back into the living room, Nanette has plates, napkins and two bottles of water. She’s already halfway through her first slice of pizza.

“This is really good,” she says while chewing a mouthful. She then nods down to the coffee table and I see a ten-dollar bill lying there. “For my share.”

“Thanks,” I say, once again thankful that Bishop had a talk with Nanette about her manners as a guest.

I settle onto the opposite end of the couch from where she sits after pulling a huge slice of pepperoni pizza onto my plate. It has the appropriate amount of grease on it and I’m hoping it will be close to is good as what we could get in New York, but knowing it will never quite make it.

We both eat in silence while we watch the pregame show on TV. I have to say watching on TV versus being there live is completely awful and unacceptable. It’s frustrating because I have to depend on them to show me what I want, and I want to see Bishop.

In the games I saw him play, I never really realized how much I watched him like a stalker. My eyes would be pinned on him during warm-ups, trying to gauge how his legs looked and if his head was in the game. The TV gives you none of that because the sports announcers would rather talk and see themselves on screen. I know once the game starts I’m going to be equally as frustrated, since I won’t be able to see Bishop while he’s on the bench. It’s not that I stare at him 100 percent throughout a game, and I most definitely follow the action as a good Vengeance fan should. But having the ability to glance over at him and see how he’s doing when not on the ice is something I will not take for granted again. I don’t intend to miss any more away trips.

The TV cuts to a commercial just as I’m finishing my first slice. I wipe my mouth with my napkin and lean forward to grab another. Nanette does the same, and when we settle back in, I use this opportunity to ask her about how the job interview went.

She has been noticeably mum about the entire thing, I think mainly because she may be embarrassed about her past partying with the members of the Vengeance team and front office staff. In turn, I have not once told her that I had been dabbling within the merchandising division. That I had been doing work for Sebastian with the hope that he would bring me on full time over there. I didn’t tell her that I was suspicious whether there was actually a job opening and figured she was just going to have to go through the process and we would let the chips fall where they may.

My curiosity is getting the better of me. “So…how did the interview go today?”

Nanette smirks at me with a triumphant look on her face. She gives me a sly wink. “It’s in the bag.”

“In the bag?” My stomach flips in shock and then drops with disappointment.

She gives me a side glance and a broader smirk. “Let’s just say I gave the best interview of my life and Sebastian was a satisfied man when I walked out the door.”

My stomach rolls, as I think I know what she means. But I have to make sure. I lighten my voice to a conspiratorial tone and say, “Ooooh…You have to give me details.”

That’s all it takes for Nanette to spill her guts and tell me why she is looking and acting so triumphant. She puts her plate down on the coffee table and turns toward me, sitting cross-legged. Leaning forward she practically gushes about her interview. “So I figured that when Sebastian offered me an interview it was not going to be a typical interview. There was enough innuendo that night at the bar. And as expected, he had me give him a blow job and I happily did so. I mean, he’s so hot and I would not mind working for someone like that. He was practically speechless when I left his office. I expect I’ll be getting the offer any day now.”

It’s a true testament to my willpower that my mouth doesn’t drop open and I keep an amused look on my face. “You’re so bad.”

“You have no idea,” she says with a laugh. “But that’s how things happen. As women, we have to use every weapon in our arsenal to get what we want. If giving Sebastian a little extra happy in the process is what it takes, so be it.”

I want to ask so many questions. Like how does she even think that was professional? Doesn’t she feels debased? And how in the hell can you give somebody a blow job that you don’t even know? That’s absolutely gross.

Clearing my throat, I force a bright tone into my voice. “Well, good luck.”

I simply can’t say any more. There’s no way I can validate what she just did.

She doesn’t seem to care. She grins at me and says, “Thanks.”