Straight Up Love - Lexi Ryan Page 8

  It occurs to me that maybe I’ve always been too hard on him. After all, I usually see him at work, where he’s operating under a lot of pressure, but tonight, his rough edges seem softer, his demeanor warmer—despite the fact that I just sprayed him with tequila and sweet-and-sour mix.

  “Good for you,” I say. “I imagine your job has to be pretty stressful right now.” I drag my bottom lip between my teeth and wish I hadn’t brought it up.

  “With the layoffs?”

  I nod. “Yeah. Everyone’s worried, but I’m sure it’s stressful for you too.”

  “Are you?” he asks. His gaze dips down to my cleavage. Why did I let Ellie talk me into this dress? “Worried about the layoffs, I mean?”

  I shrug. “I’m trying to prepare for anything, but obviously it’s hard not to worry a little when the future is uncertain.”

  “May I tell you something in confidence?” His gaze dips again, this time lingering.

  Okay, his eyes on my tits are making me feel super slimy. “Of course.”

  “You don’t have anything to worry about. You’ve been there longer than anyone else in your department.”

  “Seriously?” I let out a long breath, and relief washes like a cool shower over me. “That’s good to hear.”

  “We’ve gotta look out for each other, right?” He thumbs the condensation off his glass. “Two single people just trying to get by.”

  There’s that vague sense of sliminess again. “Um, right.” I force a smile, lecturing myself to be kind to him. What can a smile hurt?

  He scoots his chair a couple of inches closer to mine and leans in. I rest my gaze on my margarita. Looking at him when he’s this close makes this feel like the date it was supposed to be. “I can’t say I was disappointed when I realized you were my date,” he says.

  I snap my gaze to his just as he puts his hand on my knee.

  Holy fucking shit. Mr. Mooney is touching my bare knee. Alarm bells go off in my head. “Mr. Mooney?”

  He squeezes lightly. “Call me Mark. This is a date, right?” He winks at me, and his hand inches a little higher.

  I shift in my seat, trying to pull away from his touch in the most casual way possible. I don’t want to make a scene or make him uncomfortable, but his hand on my leg is definitely not okay with me.

  He doesn’t take the hint. Instead, he shifts too, following me, slipping his fingers beneath the hem of my skirt. “What do you say we get out of here? Get what we both came for?”

  I shake my head. “No thanks,” I whisper. I hate how weak I sound. I’m not the kind of girl who’s afraid to shut a guy down when he’s making unwanted advances, but this is my boss. “I don’t think that would be appropriate.” I shoot up from my chair, and it squeaks as it flies back behind me and clatters to its side. “I think I should go.”

  He stands too, and color blooms in his cheeks. “Please, wait.”

  I grab my purse and hold tight, as if it’s a life preserver in this disaster of an evening.

  “I’m sorry, Ava. I hope you can forgive me for reading this situation all wrong.”

  Swallowing hard, I shake my head. “Let’s forget this happened, okay?”

  “I hope this won’t make things at work awkward. I value you as an employee.”

  Just breathe, Ava. It was a big misunderstanding. “It’s fine.”

  He nods, but something in his expression tells me he knows fine is my favorite lie.

  Jake

  I show up at Ava’s house Sunday morning with a box of fresh donuts and two giant cups of fresh coffee from Ooh La La! I knock on the door before using my key to let myself in, practically holding my breath. Please be here. Please tell me you came home last night, and the date was a complete bust.

  “Ava?” I call softly as I walk into the house. It’s dark, but I head to the kitchen, expecting to see her sitting at the table with a book and a cup of coffee. The kitchen’s dark too. “Ava?” I call again, a little louder this time.

  I hate the idea of her going home with someone. It’s ridiculous. She’s young and beautiful and deserves a healthy sex life. But the idea eats at me. And she never texted.

  Still holding our coffees in each hand and the box of donuts under my arm, I decide to check her bedroom.

  Soft morning light filters in through her sheer blue curtains. She’s twisted in her sheets, one bare arm thrown over her head, her hair splayed out on her pillow. The gnawing jealousy of imagining her spending her night with someone else—waking up with someone else—fades and is replaced by a gut-deep ache of lust. Her pink lips are parted slightly, her cheeks flushed.

  What would I give to be the man who got to wake up to that face? To start my day by brushing my knuckles over her cheek before lowering my mouth to hers?

  I swallow thickly and try to make my feet move, but they don’t. I just want to keep looking at her.

  Ava wants a baby more than anything. Being a mom has always been important to her, and ever since she told me her plan, I’ve caught myself plotting ways I could make that happen.

  I could grant her the favor she drunkenly asked of me. Jack off into a cup, watch her belly grow with my baby, watch her raise my child. On the one hand, it would feel good to give her what Harrison couldn’t, but on the other hand, I know without a doubt I couldn’t handle the outcome. I’d insert myself into her life so completely that she’d resent me. If Ellie’s worried that a kid will make it hard for Ava to find love, imagine if the kid’s dad refuses to get lost. I can’t stop thinking about her proposal, but I also know it’s not an option.

  I’ve always wanted to give Ava everything, but for once I’m thinking of offering her what she wants. But on my terms. Would she go for it? Or would she panic and shut me out?

  I walk into the room, slide the coffees on the bedside table, and put the donut box next to them. “Good morning, sleepyhead.” I lower myself to sit on the bed.

  Her eyes flutter open and she looks at the clock then at me. “Good morning.” Her voice is husky from sleep and tugs at my gut. “What are you doing here?”

  I open my mouth to answer, and she stretches—both arms over her head, her back arched, her breasts thrust forward—and I forget her question.

  She blinks at me. “Is everything okay?”

  Right. Words. Use your words, Jake. “I just wanted to check on you. You never texted me last night, and I wanted to make sure you weren’t tied up in some creep’s basement this morning.”

  “Oh, shit.” She pushes herself up in bed and the sheets fall, exposing her thin tank top and the outline of her perfect breasts beneath it.

  Her eyes are up there. But I don’t know that I can be trusted to keep my eyes where they should be, so I turn my attention to her coffee, handing her a cup.

  “You’re a prince. I’m sorry I didn’t text. Last night was so weird that I just wanted to get home and wash it all off.” She shudders delicately.

  “What happened?” My guard goes up immediately. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s just . . . my date was my boss.”

  “Mr. Mooney?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Gross.”

  “It gets worse,” she says. “He made a move on me.”

  “Do I want to know what Mr. Mooney’s idea of a move is?”

  “He tried to put his hand up my skirt.”

  I jump to standing. “He did what?” I’m already reaching into my pocket for my keys, ready to head out the door.

  “Jake, calm down.”

  Brayden and Mark Mooney graduated high school together. Mark was the recipient of the one fight I’ve ever heard of Brayden getting into. Brayden was the poster child of a good kid, but he let loose on Mark. I remember sullen-faced Brayden sitting at the kitchen table with a shiner, waiting for Dad to get home and learn of his two-day suspension. Mark had been harassing this girl for weeks, Brayden told Dad, and when the girl told the school counselors how uncomfortable it made her, they told her Mark was a boy with
a crush and his attention was harmless. But that day, when Mark grabbed her ass in the hallway, Brayden had been there, and he’d decided someone needed to teach Mark the consequences of touching a woman who doesn’t want to be touched.

  “Mooney is slime,” I growl.

  Ava shakes her head. “Nothing happened.”

  “And nothing’s going to happen. Somebody needs to remind him—”

  “Jake.” She grabs my wrist. Like always, the feel of Ava’s skin on mine calms me. She only holds for a beat before releasing me, and like always, I find the contact too brief. “He apologized, and we parted on good terms. Don’t make a bigger deal about this than it is.”

  “Fuck.” I drag a hand through my hair and study her face. “Are you sure?”

  “He didn’t steal my virtue,” she says around a smile. “Just my Saturday night.”

  “He shouldn’t have touched you.”

  “Agreed, but when I made it clear I wasn’t interested, he apologized.”

  I force my shoulders down and my fists to release. “I never would have imagined Mooney using Straight Up Casual. Don’t they screen their clients or something?”

  “Don’t be mean.” She wrinkles her nose. “I mean, objectively he’s a catch. He’s got a good job. He’s good-looking.”

  “Mooney? You think Mooney is good-looking?”

  She takes a long gulp of her coffee and shrugs. “Intellectually, I can see that he has the characteristics of an attractive man, yes. I’m not saying I’m attracted to him.” She does an up-and-down motion, waving toward my body. “It’s like you. I can look at you and know you’re attractive, but that doesn’t mean I want to jump into bed with you.”

  I ignore that kick in the nuts and arch a brow. “Now you’re lumping me in with Mooney?”

  She rolls her eyes. “You’re much better looking than him and way more fun to be around. Does that help? Does your fragile male ego feel a little appeased now?”

  Not really.

  “Whatever, whether he’s a stud or a dud doesn’t matter,” she says. “I don’t understand guys who think they need to push themselves on women. Does that ever work out? Are there women who like that?”

  I take a deep breath. “I wouldn’t know, because I’m nothing like Mooney.” I try to deliver my answer casually, but the words feel like they’re being pushed out through two grinding stones.

  She sighs and holds her coffee to her chest, right between her breasts. “Anyway, it’s over. Now if we could never speak of it again, I’ll be golden.”

  “You need to tell the administration,” I say, and Christ, I still want to hit something. “What he did was inappropriate on so many levels.”

  “It’s not his fault that Straight Up Casual set us up. It’s a blind-date service.”

  “The setup isn’t his fault, but he has control of his own hands. Don’t let this go.”

  She chews on her bottom lip. “I think making an issue of it will cause me more trouble than it’s worth. Anyway, he told me last night that my job’s safe, so I’d hate to do anything to change his mind.”

  Relaxing at that bit of good news, I lower myself back down to the side of her bed and reach for the box on her bedside table. “I bought you donuts.”

  She grins and leans toward me. “Are you trying to win brownie points with me or something?”

  I shrug. “Maybe.”

  “What was on Star’s menu this morning?” She takes the box from me and opens it. “Did you know she was going to have the chocolate peanut butter this morning? These are my kryptonite, Jake. You practically have to be at the door at six a.m. to get them.”

  “Lilly’s going to try out for Charlotte’s Web,” I say, as if that has anything to do with me standing at Star’s door before she turned on her open sign. I’d happily do backflips to feed Ava her favorite foods.

  “That’s great news!” She lifts a chocolate-frosted donut from the box and takes a bite. She closes her eyes and lets out a long, low moan that makes blood rush to my dick.

  Shit. Ava in bed, moaning. I don’t know if bringing her breakfast in here was the dumbest idea ever or a stroke of genius.

  Star works voodoo with her food. It’s all delicious, but once a week she makes donuts that make all other donuts seem boring. This one, Ava’s favorite, has chocolate ganache frosting and peanut butter cream filling inside a flaky dough that’s closer to croissant than yeast donut. The only thing that’s more enjoyable than having one myself is watching Ava eat one.

  Her tongue darts out to catch the spot of peanut butter on her lip. She only gets half of it, and I swallow hard to keep my hands at my sides.

  “She’ll shine on stage.”

  It takes me a minute to remember what we’re talking about. Lilly. My niece. Children’s theater. My excuse for bringing Ava donuts in bed.

  “Is Ethan okay with it?”

  I nod, trying and failing to keep my gaze off her mouth. “She wanted to know if you’d listen to her audition before the big day.”

  She smacks my arm. “Of course I will! You didn’t have to bribe me for that.”

  “You have . . .” Oh, hell. Reaching forward, I wipe the spot of peanut butter cream from her lip, and she stills, her eyes meeting mine.

  I’ve spent a lot of the last seven years wondering how it could be possible to feel something so intensely for a woman who doesn’t feel anything beyond friendship for me, but every once in a while, like this moment, with my thumb on her lip and her eyes on mine, I know that Ava has to feel something. She just doesn’t want to admit it to herself.

  If it weren’t for moments like these, maybe I would have made myself move on long ago. Then again, I didn’t move on when she married someone else, so the chances of me successfully letting her go when she’s single are slim to none.

  I pull my hand away before the heat in her gaze can morph into anxiety over what she’s feeling.

  She turns her eyes down to the donut in her hand.

  “Lilly wants to join the swim team too,” I say, brushing past the moment as if it wasn’t even there. “She’s six years old, and I think her social calendar is busier than mine.”

  Ava grins. “She’s an amazing kid.”

  I nod. “Some days I think she’s handling Mom’s cancer better than the rest of us.”

  Ava looks up at me through her dark lashes, her expression soft. “She might be. Kids can be more resilient than adults.”

  “She certainly is,” I whisper, thinking of my niece when she was three and holding her dad’s hand as he watched them lower his wife’s casket into the ground. “She hasn’t had it easy.” I hear footsteps in the hall and turn to the door.

  “What the hell, Jake?” Colton asks. “Would you mind getting the fuck out of my sister’s bed?”

  “Colton,” Ava says with her teacher voice—equal parts patience and authority. “Jake brought me breakfast.”

  “He shouldn’t be in your bedroom, and certainly not in your bed.” His chest is all puffed, his dark eyes full of fury. Someone’s in a mood and looking for a fight.

  He’s probably right, and not because anything inappropriate is happening but because it puts ideas in my head. But if it puts ideas in her head too, this slow death by lust might be worth it.

  “Good morning, Colt.” I stand. “You want a donut? They’re from Ooh La La!”

  Some of his bluster falls away.

  “Chocolate peanut butter,” Ava says, hoisting the box in the air like an offering.

  “Seriously? You think you can manipulate me with donuts?” Colton asks, but he’s already stepping forward and reaching into the box.

  Ava snatches it away before he can grab one. “There are too many people in my room. Everybody out.”

  Colton snatches the donut box from her hand. “I’ll take these.”

  She points a finger at him. “You can have one, but if you eat more than one of my donuts, I’m coming after you!”

  Her little brother grins. “Yes, ma’am.” He
turns and leaves the bedroom.

  I watch him go. “You sure I’m safe out there?” I ask, waving toward the door, and not at all worried about Colton. “It might be smarter to stay in here with you. I’m afraid he might beat me up to protect your virtue.”

  Ava

  “Why’s everyone so worried about my virtue all of a sudden?” I ask Jake. “You both need to calm down. I’m a grown woman.” Seriously, I’m not sure what Colton’s problem is this morning. He’s always been protective of me, but he knows Jake’s just a friend.

  That said, I am suddenly all too aware of my thin tank top and Jake’s proximity. Funny how just last night I was thinking about how I like to maintain a bigger personal bubble than most people, but the need for that extra space never seems to apply to Jake.

  Then again, after the way my insides seemed to shimmy and melt when he touched my lip, maybe it should. Shit. What was that?

  Nothing. It was nothing but the response of a body that hasn’t had much physical contact lately.

  “Get out,” I tell Jake. “I need to get dressed and brush my teeth.”

  “Need any help?”

  I arch a brow. “Help brushing my teeth?”

  “Help getting dressed. Or . . . undressed.” He gives me that devilish grin that makes most girls drop their panties. It could totally work on me too if I hadn’t worked so hard to build up an immunity.

  I grab a pillow and launch it at his chest. “Get out. Colton’s out there, and if he heard you saying that he’d punch you.”

  His gaze drops from my eyes to my chest. “Might be worth it.”

  “Out.”

  Chuckling, he tosses the pillow back on the mattress and leaves my room.

  I crawl out of bed and take a big gulp of my coffee, grateful for Jake’s thoughtfulness. Then I go into the bathroom and shudder at my appearance. I took a long, hot shower when I got home last night and then slept on my wet hair. This morning, it’s a mess of tangled waves. And even though I washed my face in the shower, I didn’t bother getting all my eye makeup off, and now the remnants are smudged around my eyes.

  Sighing, I grab a makeup remover cloth and take care of it. Then I brush my teeth, pull my hair into a sloppy bun on top of my head, and dress in a pair of black leggings and my favorite Hamilton hoodie.