Authors: M Leighton
“Yeah. He’s great.”
He
humphs
and then pauses for a second
before continuing. “Taryn had some concerns she needed to address
with me before tonight, which is why I’m calling you.”
I’m relieved. Instantly. And I hate that I
am. It irritates me. But more than that, now I’m worried. This call
seems ominous.
“Is there a problem?”
“Look, I’m not the type to beat around the
bush or to get involved in petty rivalries, so I’m just gonna be
straight with you. Taryn isn’t particularly interested in training
you. She doesn’t have a specific reason; she just isn’t. I won’t
tell you what
I
think it is, because it doesn’t matter. What
matters is that I want you working at Dual. I know you need a
specific shift. If she can’t work with you, that’s her problem and
she can find something else that might make her happy.”
“So, what does this mean? What are you
saying?”
“Well, when given those options, Taryn
decided that she’d rather stay. So, I’m leaving your training up to
you. If you want Taryn to train you, she will. If not, then I’ll do
it.”
My pulse speeds up just thinking about
spending so much time with Cash. And in such close quarters.
“Can’t Marco train me?”
There’s a protracted pause before Cash
answers. When he does, his tone is clipped. “No. That’s not Marco’s
job.”
My mind is racing with a thousand thoughts,
not the least of which is that it makes me smile to think Cash
might be a tad bit jealous of Marco.
“I don’t know what to say. I mean, I don’t
want Taryn to think I’m backing down from her. I’m not going to let
her run me off. But at the same time, I don’t want to put her in a
bad position if she’s got a problem with me.”
“Her job is not to like you, it’s to train
you. You aren’t putting her in a bad position.”
My hesitation is minimal. Regardless of my
feelings on the issue with Taryn, I know it won’t bode well for me
if I let Cash train me. I just don’t trust myself around him. Not
completely anyway.
“Then I’ll let her train me.”
“Okay. But if she gives you a hard time, I
want you to come to me immediately.”
“I will,” I agree, having no intention of
doing any such thing. No, I’ll have to sort out things with Taryn
on my own. We’ll either learn to get along or learn to work with
someone we hate.
I drag a hand through my tangled hair. I hope
it’s the former rather than the latter. Working with someone who
hates me will be stressful in a big, big way.
“She’s asked off for tonight, so you won’t
have to work again until next weekend. Unless you want to pick up
an extra shift Wednesday night when she works.”
Actually, I need the money. And my classes
don’t start until 11:00 on Thursday, so I could probably swing
that, as long as it doesn’t become a habit.
“Wednesday’s good. I can do that.”
“Good,” he says. I think I hear a smile in
his voice. I’m glad he didn’t take it personally that I don’t want
to be trained specifically by him.
I bet his ego is so big he didn’t give it a
second thought.
“Well, if there’s anything you need, give me
a call. I’ve always got my cell phone with me.”
“How did you get my number anyway?”
“Some asshole named Nash.”
“Asshole?”
“Yeah, asshole. Don’t tell me you don’t think
he’s an asshole!”
I laugh uncomfortably. “Um, no I don’t think
he’s an asshole. He’s always been nice to me.”
“Of course he has. You’re gorgeous. What man
wouldn’t be nice to you?”
“Plenty.”
“Assholes, all of them,” he teases.
“They’re assholes, too?”
“Yep.”
“Is everyone an asshole today?”
“Yep,” he repeats. “Word of the day toilet
paper.”
I laugh, genuinely this time. “Is that
right?”
“Yep. You don’t even want to know what
yesterday’s word was.”
“I’m sure I don’t. It would probably make my
ears bleed.”
His voice drops into a lower, softer range.
“No, but it would probably make you blush.”
I pause. My face feels warm, but pleasantly
so. It occurs to me that, no matter how much I avoid him, no matter
how wrong I know he is for me, he is going to be nearly impossible
to resist.
Dammit!
“Enjoy your day, Olivia. I’ll see you on
Wednesday.”
With that, he hangs up, leaving me lying
bonelessly on my bed, lost in thoughts of what it would be like to
stop fighting it.
********
I hear voices as soon as I get out of the
shower, which is unusual. Marissa’s screech is easily and
disturbingly identifiable. The raised voice that surprises me,
however, belongs to Nash. I creep to the door and crack it the
tiniest bit, turning my head and pressing my ear to it.
You are a
shameless, creepy
eavesdropping hussy
.
I stifle a giggle. Apparently I don’t cut
myself any slack. I pulled out the hussy card.
“You can’t just spring something like this on
me at the last minute! I already made plans and I don’t even have a
new dress!” I can tell she’s still trying to keep her calm, which
is a testament to how much she likes and, therefore, tries to
deceive Nash. I’m not sure how much she’s
actually
deceiving
him, though. It would be interesting to see how long he’d stick
around if she started showing her true colors.
“If I’d known I would be back, I would’ve
said something sooner. I wanted to surprise you.” Nash’s voice is
raised only enough to speak over Marissa’s loud whining.
“Well, now what am I supposed to do? I can’t
cancel on Daddy. He’s already—”
“It’s not a big deal,” Nash offers
soothingly. “I can take someone else.”
There’s a long pause filled with enough
tension for me to perceive it through a mostly-closed door.
Back up, Nash! She’s about to blow!
“Who did you have in mind?”
Her voice is like ice. I wonder if Nash knows
that sound and what it means.
“I didn’t have anyone particular in mind, as
I had no idea you wouldn’t be able to go. I’m sure I can find
someone last minute, though. No need to worry.”
I almost laugh out loud. No need to worry? I
bet Marissa is fuming.
I can almost smell the smoke from her
overworked brain as she tries to think of someone who will be zero
competition for her, someone who is trustworthy, but also someone
who is enough of a loser not to already have plans on such short
notice.
“What about Olivia? I’m sure she’d be happy
to go, especially since you’ve done so much for her.”
I know my mouth is wide open and there is the
look of grave insult on my face. I can feel it.
Ohmigod! I’m the loser!
“I appreciate the suggestion, but she works
weekends, doesn’t she?”
“If she took the job with Cash, who knows
what her schedule will be?”
“Well, I’m not waking her up to ask her. I
think she worked last night, didn’t she?”
“Yes, but she won’t mind. I’ll ask her.”
I hear Nash start to say something, but the
way it’s cut off makes me think Marissa has already walked off. I
close the door silently and haul ass to the bathroom, as though
I’ve just gotten out of the shower, which I technically have.
“Olivia?” Marissa calls, knocking once loudly
and then entering. She doesn’t even wait for me to give her
permission.
I bite back a snarl.
Witch!
“In here,” I call sharply.
The door is cracked and I see her practically
stomp across the room. She pushes the door open. There’s a nasty
look on her face. She wastes no time with niceties. “Do you have to
work tonight? If not, I need you to go to an art exhibition with
Nash. You owe him.”
It’s just like Marissa to jump right in with
the heavy artillery, like guilt and extortion.
I’m so proud to be related to the devil’s
mistress.
Carefully suppressing the urge to snort, I
answer her.
“As a matter of fact, I’m off tonight. I
can’t go, though. I’m sorry, but I don’t have anything to wear to a
fancy function like that.”
She brushes me off with a wave of her hand.
“You can wear something of mine. I’m sure we can make do.”
I’d just heard her complain about not having
had time to buy a new dress for the event, yet she’s perfectly
content to send me in…whatever.
“As long as Nash doesn’t care what I look
like…”
Marissa laughs in her demeaning little way.
“Olivia, I’m sure Nash won’t give you a second thought.”
I’m gonna be honest. I see red. Red, dammit!
And it’s in this very moment that I decide I’m going to knock
everyone’s socks off, especially Nash’s. Marissa will rue the
day…
Even if I have to pull a Pretty in Pink
and sew my own effing dress in seven minutes flat
.
All this is taking place internally. On the
outside, I smile sweetly at Marissa. “Well, in that case I’d be
happy to.”
She turns around and walks away without so
much as a thank you or kiss my ass. When I hear her tell Nash that
I’ll go and that she’ll do her best to make sure I’m presentable, I
can’t help but wonder if I could get away with stabbing her cold,
cold heart with an ice pick.
For that, I might win the Nobel Peace Prize.
Or, bare minimum, a call from the Vatican, thanking me.
This time, I don’t bother to hide my
snicker.
CHAPTER TWELVE- Nash
As I wait for Olivia to come out of her
bedroom, I can’t help but feel a little ashamed. I shouldn’t be
looking forward to spending the evening with her as much as I
am.
Yet I am. And there’s just no denying it.
“Nash?” I hear Olivia call. I turn toward her
bedroom. I can see the door from where I’m standing in the living
room. It’s cracked just enough for me to hear her, but not see
her.
“Yes?”
“Promise me that if I’ll embarrass you in
this dress, you’ll just go without me. It won’t hurt my feelings. I
swear.”
“Olivia, it doesn’t matter what—”
“Promise me right now or I’m not coming out
at all.”
She’s stubborn? Huh. I wouldn’t have guessed
that. But actually, I kinda like it.
I laugh. “Okay, fine. I promise that if I
think you’ll embarrass me, I’ll go without you.”
The door closes and then there’s a long pause
before it swings all the way open. What I see takes my breath.
Marissa is taller than Olivia. Thinner, too.
But Olivia is curvier. Much curvier. And every single one is
displayed to absolute perfection in the dress she’s wearing.
I think I’ve seen Marissa in it before, and
she looked great. But not great like this.
The material is some kind of thin, almost
sheer stuff in dark red. It flutters in the air that stirs as the
door comes to a rest against the stopper with a muffled thump.
Olivia stands still and lets me appraise her before she starts
toward me. I clench my jaw to keep my mouth from dropping open as I
watch her. The wispy cloth clings to her body as she walks,
outlining her form perfectly. She might as well be nude.
Holy mother, I wish she was.
I shake off the thought, knowing I can’t go
forward tonight thinking things like that.
Think with the big head, man! Think with the
big head!
She glides to a stop in front of me, all
grace and luscious skin. Her bare chest and shoulders glow in the
low light. I want to touch her, caress her, so much so that I ball
my fingers into tight fists to keep them to myself.
“You look beautiful.” My voice sounds
strained, even to my own ears.
Her face falls. “It’s too tight, isn’t it?
I’m wearing taller heels to make the length right, but there’s
nothing I can do about the rest.” I can see that she’s genuinely
distressed, which makes me want to smile, although I don’t. That
would be the wrong thing to do in front of an upset woman. “Marissa
is so much thinner than me,” she says, one of her hands fluttering
as she talks. “And I just don’t have anything that—”
I reach out and take her spastic hand,
pressing the forefinger of my free hand to her lips. “Shhh.” She
stops talking immediately. Yes, I could’ve shut her up a hundred
different ways without touching her, but I figure this is better
than kissing her, which is what I really want to do.
Good God, how I want to kiss her!
It takes me a few seconds to focus on
something other than the way her lush lips parted just a little. It
would be so easy to slide my fingertip between them, to feel the
heat of her mouth, the wetness of her tongue.
I’m both surprised and irritated that I feel
my tuxedo pants shrink a size in the crotch. I’ll have to be extra
careful with this girl. I can’t remember the last time someone so
thoroughly tested my restraint.
Actually, yes I can. It was Libby Fields in
her tight little dress at the Homecoming dance in the ninth grade.
I thought for sure if she sat in my lap and wiggled her ass one
more time, I was going to explode like Mt. Saint Helens.
I didn’t, of course. But it was close. And
this girl—this tiny, curvaceous, engaging, walking, talking
contradiction—is working her way up to Libby Fields’s position
very, very quickly, which is really saying something since I’m
twenty-five, not fourteen.
I clear my throat. “Please don’t say another
word. You look beautiful. In Marissa’s wildest dreams, she could
never fill out that dress the way you do. I’ll be the envy of every
guy in the whole damn place.” I smile to further make my point.
Although her brow doesn’t smooth entirely, I
know she’s feeling better when she grabs my wrist and pulls my hand
away. I can see the slight curve of her lips where she’s holding in
a smile.
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Really really?”
“Really really. Just remember, tonight you’re
mine.”