Not Safe for Work (20 page)

Chapter Twenty-Six

I shifted my gaze back and forth from the schematic in front of me to the model I was supposed to be building.

Nothing. I’ve got nothing.

I couldn’t translate the dimensions to the pieces of wire and foam-core I’d cut on Friday. Couldn’t remember how they were supposed to go together, where they were supposed to go, what the fuck this thing was supposed to look like when it was complete.

I wasn’t even scatter-brained. I was no-brained. No amount of coffee was going to get me out of this funk. All morning, I’d alternated between staring into space and staring at things with no clue what to do with them. Though I’d slept like the dead last night, I felt like I hadn’t slept in weeks. Drained. Dragging. Dumb.

“Hey, McNeill.” Cal jarred me out of my thoughts. “What do you think?”

I pushed myself up, gingerly rubbing my lower back. “About what?”

“About what?” Scott snorted. “Dude, haven’t you been paying attention?”

“Uh, can’t say I have.” I glanced at Teagan, and she gave me that look that said she’d be getting answers out of me later. I muffled a cough. “So, what do I think about what?”

Scott clasped his fingers together and stretched his arms over his head. “Cal thinks he’s got a shot at Dawson.”

“Dawson?” I blinked. “As in, Marie Dawson?”

Cal went bright red.

Bianca patted his arm. “It’s worth a try. The worst she can do is say no.”

“No, that’s not the worst she can do.” Scott shoved a chip in his mouth. “The worst she can do is sleep with him.”

“How is that the worst she can do?” I asked.

“Um, duh.” Scott shrugged. “Because chicks like her tear off their mate’s head after copulating.”

Laughing, I shook my head. “You are one sick fuck, you know that, Scott?”

Teagan snorted. “Says the man who’s boning Cal’s mom.”

“I hate you both,” Cal grumbled.

“So, when critters like that rip off their mate’s head, do they do it right after sex?” Scott asked. “Or do they wait until they’ve, like, cuddled awhile?”

“I don’t think I’d cuddle with something that was going to tear my head off,” Teagan said.

“Could be worse.” Bianca nodded toward Cal. “You could be cuddling with Calvin.”

“Good point.”

“Hey!”

“Come on, guys,” I said. “Dawson’s not that bad.”

“How the fuck would you know?” Cal asked.

“Yeah.” Scott eyed me. “Have you been cheating on—”

“Dude, if you say it,” Cal warned, “I swear to God, I will stab you with a pencil.”

“Boys, boys.” I laughed. “Settle down.”

“Dorks,” Bianca muttered.

“Well, with all that appetizing talk,” Teagan said, capping a tube of cement and glancing at the clock. “I could go for an early lunch. I’m going to Arturo’s. Anyone else?”

“Hell yeah,” Cal said.

“I’m there,” Scott and Bianca said at the same time.

“Someone bring Silent Dave back to earth, then,” she said. “What about you, McNeill?”

I pursed my lips, eyeing the model I wasn’t making any progress on. I wasn’t really in the mood to socialize, but I wasn’t in any frame of mind to build this thing either. And any distraction I could get right then was a good one. Fuck it. I grabbed my jacket. “Who’s driving?”

“You are, old man,” Scott said.

“If I’m driving, you’re walking.”

Bianca laughed. “I’ll take Scott and Teagan if you’ll take Cal and Dave.”

I grimaced. “If I must.”

We headed out to the parking garage, arranged everyone into Bianca’s car and mine, and headed over to Arturo’s, an aging Italian place that knew us all by name. The hostess showed us to our usual booth—way in the back so we wouldn’t disturb the more civilized customers—and brought us drinks.

As we bantered and ordered and plowed through a basket of breadsticks, I could barely keep up with the conversation. Hell, when the food arrived, I had to stare at my plate of cannelloni for a moment before I realized that, yes, this was what I ordered. I didn’t remember ordering at all.

All through lunch, my mind kept wandering back to the weekend. Back to every moment with Rick.

Sure, there’d been a bump in the road, and the club had turned out to be a bad idea, but he’d recovered from that and we’d still had an amazing time. God, wasn’t that an understatement. Rick was such a beautiful submissive. Willing. Eager. Adventurous. And I looked forward to the aftercare almost as much as I did the scene or the sex. Lying beside him, relaxing, rubbing lotion on his welts or helping work stiffness out of a muscle, kissing, talking…

Everything we did, I loved. I wasn’t aroused by the memories, I wasn’t turned off. I was just…preoccupied. Shell-shocked in a way. It had been a great weekend, but now my mind and body were both crashing. Fatigue. Overload. Having to function like a normal human being, surrounded by people but touching none of them.

An elbow in my side brought me out of my thoughts and back into the cramped booth at Arturo’s.

“Hey, what’s wrong with you?” Teagan cocked her head.

“Sorry.” I gestured dismissively. “Just lost in thought, I guess.”

Bianca giggled. “Thinking about Cal’s mom at the table again?”

Cal groaned.

I laughed. “Yeah, that’s it. What can I say? A woman with that much experience requires a lot of imagination to satisfy. So I always have to think up—”

“McNeill, I’m so fucking serious.” Cal gestured at me with a steak knife. “If you mention fucking my mom again…”

I shrugged. “Okay, well, there was the other night with your sister, and—”

“My sister?” He grimaced. “Dude, have you
seen
my sister?”

“No, I can’t say I have.”

He shuddered. “Yeah. You just…no.”

“So what you’re saying,” I deadpanned, “is that your mom is hotter than your sister?”

Cal buried his face in his hands and groaned while the rest of us laughed.

“Sorry, man,” I said without an ounce of sincerity. “You walked into that one.”

“You really did.” Bianca patted his shoulder. “But it’s okay, we still love you.”

“And your mom still loves Jon,” Teagan said.

Everyone except for Cal burst out laughing. He flipped us all off, rolled his eyes and kept eating. That was what I loved about this group. We all knew where the lines were when it came to ribbing each other, or sexual innuendo and explicit topics, and though we all pushed the envelope
hard
, it was known that any requests of “no, this needs to stop” were to be immediately respected.

These were people with whom I spent in excess of forty hours a week. I knew them, and they knew me. We’d all learned to give Scott space if he didn’t make any jokes in his first fifteen minutes of work. We boys didn’t have to—and didn’t dare—question Bianca and Teagan when the former couldn’t stop eating potato chips and the latter went to the vending machines for chocolate at ten in the morning. The cracks about Cal’s mom and me always stopped if he responded with tight-lipped silence. Everyone knew when Teagan called it quits with her ex-boyfriend, Scott had fallen in love with his current girlfriend, and my second wife and I had separated, all before any announcements were made.

The food on my plate was getting less and less appetizing as pieces began to fall together in my brain. These people could read me like a book. Which meant they knew when anything significant in my life had changed. Which meant it was only a matter of time before they picked up on something. Perhaps not exactly what, but they’d catch the scent, and sooner or later, the little tells would accumulate.

And suddenly I’d have to explain and define something I couldn’t explain or define. Things were too casual to use the word boyfriend but too deep to use the word casual. Not that I was obligated to answer questions or tip my hand, but I wanted to keep this under wraps for now. I didn’t like denying it. Self-deprecating comments didn’t feel right when it came to my relationship with Rick.

If I was going to keep this under wraps, though, I had to keep the business-as-usual façade going, and spacing out at the table during lunch wouldn’t help any. I forced myself to fall into the conversation, which currently involved everyone accusing Silent Dave of using his giant headphones to listen for signals from the mother ship. I played along. Anything to keep them from seeing how hard I was dragging right then. This didn’t hurt, not like a hangover, but it had the same effect, in a weird way. The price of a spectacular weekend—feeling not-so-spectacular afterward.

But I kept that to myself, and I kept up the illusion through the rest of lunch, paid my part of the bill, and we all headed out.

On the way out to the cars, Teagan put her hand on my arm, and I slowed my pace to match hers. Keeping her voice low, she asked, “Everything okay?”

“Yeah. Rough weekend, I guess.”

“You guess?” She eyed me. “Was it or wasn’t it?”

“It was.” I flashed her a grin. “In a good way, though.”

“Ah, one of those weekends. Well done, McNeill.” She elbowed me and winked.

I laughed. “Thanks. I really am okay. I promise.”

“Okay.” She smiled. “As long as everything’s all right.”

Oh, everything was all right.

I smiled back, spinning my key ring around my finger.

Everything was
great
.

* * * * *

Back at the office, I tapped into every last reserve of focus I had and got back to work. Some of my work was fairly mind-numbing, though. Cutting pieces. Arranging them. Painting them. Gluing them. Yawn.

Finally, I had to give up and step out for some air. The park across the street was a good place to walk and clear my head, and it woke me up a little, but there was no busting me out of this funk until it was good and ready to let me go. I’d be all right, and the drop was well worth it for the high, but man, this part sucked.

On my way back in, as I headed through the parking garage, a voice stopped me in my tracks: “Jon, there you are.”

I turned around as Rick came around the corner.

He glanced around as he stepped closer. “Are you okay? Every time I’ve seen you today, you’ve been out of it.”

I rubbed a hand over my face. “I’m okay. I’m just…after the weekend…”

“Top drop?”

I met his gaze. “How’d you guess?”

“This isn’t my first rodeo.” A faint smile appeared on his lips, but it quickly faded, and his forehead creased. “You’ve been working at breakneck speed for weeks, and then you’d barely recovered before we went to that club. I should’ve known this was going to happen.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Sighing, I rolled my shoulders. “I figured it was coming, but it hasn’t hit me like this in a long time. Like you said—stress. Lack of sleep.” I waved a hand. “Story of my life, I guess. I’ll be okay, though.”

“I know you will.” He studied me. “Why don’t we take it easy tonight? If you want to come by my place, I can cook something, and we can just watch movies or whatever.”

I lifted my eyebrows. “That’s the kind of crazy talk that leads to guys turning into boyfriends.”

Rick laughed. “I’ll order pizza, then. From one of those shitty chain places.” He winked. “Keeps the expectations low.”

I chuckled. “Seriously, though, movies and laying low sounds like a great night. Should I bring anything?”

“No. Just yourself.” He smiled. “I’ll take care of everything else. I’ll see you tonight?”

“Definitely. Text me if you decide you want me to bring something.” I glanced around. There were cameras in here, but no one ever looked at them unless something was stolen or damaged, so we were safe. I touched his arm, wishing like hell we could do more here. “And thank you. For understanding.”

“Nothing to thank me for. I understand.”

He held my gaze. I held his.

Oh, to hell with it. The garage was deserted, no one looked at the cameras unless there was an accident or a break-in, and if I didn’t kiss him soon, I was going to lose my mind, so I reached up, slid my hand around the back of his neck and pressed my lips to his.

God. Yes.

I didn’t have the energy for anything wild or kinky, but just touching him, just kissing him, went to my veins faster than a 5-Hour or a Red Bull. Like a hangover miracle cure delivered on the lips of a Prince Charming. Well, sort of. At least it got my heart going again, and I was pretty sure I could survive the day now.

Rick pulled back a little and glanced around. “Are you sure we should do this here?”

“What are they gonna do? Fire me?”

“Not on my watch.” He laughed and let himself be drawn back in, and I kissed him once more.

Any time I kissed Rick, there was that risk of losing track of time, space, everything, but we
were
at my office. Although I couldn’t get fired for being with him, I didn’t necessarily want to get caught.

So, reluctantly, I broke the kiss and let go. “I should… I should get back to work.”

“Yeah, me too.” He nodded toward where he must’ve parked. “I’ve got some meetings at my office today.”

“Okay.” I smiled. “I’ll see you tonight.”

“Looking forward to it.”

One more kiss, and we went our separate ways—Rick to his car, me back to the office to wrap up a few things.

I stepped into the elevator area, and froze.

“Mr. Mitchell.” I swallowed. “Didn’t…didn’t realize you were down here.”

“Mmhmm.” He gestured past me. “Did I hear you and Mr. Pierce having a conversation?”

God, I hope not…

“Sorry.” I cleared my throat. “Same as before—he had a question. I deferred him to you, though.”

“Mmhmm.” He scowled. “Again, and again, and again, I keep seeing you chatting with our client.”

We were doing more than chatting, but fuck you
.

At least he hadn’t, apparently, seen more than that.

“Sorry,” I repeated.

He narrowed his eyes. Glancing past me, he bristled.

My blood turned cold.
Had
he seen more?

But then he rolled his shoulders and looked me in the eye. “Anyhow. Let’s stop having these conversations, all right?”

I nodded. “Okay. Yeah. Definitely.”

“Good. Good.” He continued into the garage, and I paused by the elevator for a moment. That was weird.