The Bachelor: a one-night stand boss romance

Chapter 11

Avery was playingwith a chord on her guitar when her best friend at work, Lauren, came rushing into the small office they shared. She glanced up at her in amusement. Lauren was usually loud and larger than life, and today was no exception. In the three months since Avery had been working at the small publisher, Rusted Truck, as a junior songwriter, she’d seen Lauren wear some of the most outrageous combinations of patterns and colors imaginable. Avery herself was invariably in jeans, a T-shirt, and cowboy boots. But Lauren liked stripes and polka dots, usually layered over top of each other. Today she was Cruella de Vil goes rockabilly, her black hair in victory rolls that showed off a prominent white streak, her red lipstick perfect. She was wearing a circle skirt and a tight short-sleeved sweater.

“You’re not going to believe this,” she declared dramatically.

“Believe what?” Avery kept her fingers moving, humming the melody a little to herself. She still had to pinch herself on a daily basis that she had landed this job within two weeks of her big blowup fight with Ben. She had checked into a hotel, gotten online, and found herself an apartment with two other girls, and then managed to get this job after meeting Lauren through her roommate. Lauren had told her Rusted Truck was hiring, and to her shock, after an interview she was offered a position. It didn’t pay well unless someone put a hold on one of her songs, but it was better than working for minimum wage at a coffeeshop. Plus here there was opportunity, possibilities. She was learning the industry, networking a bit, seeing how the process worked.

“There is some producer showing up in like five minutes. Pat says he’s shopping,” Lauren said.

That did make her back stiffen just a little. She hadn’t actually encountered any real musicians or producers at this point. That was all kept away from her, in the big offices in the front of the building. She and several other writers were shoved in the back, by the break room, in a tiny room. “Oh, really? Did Pat say what she’s going to show him? Or her?”

“No. But I’m tempted to accidentally get lost with my guitar in my hand,” Lauren declared. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know y’all were in here, I was just walking and singing this song as I always do.”

That made Avery laugh. “Subtle.”

“I can’t afford to be subtle.”

Lauren had been at Rusted Truck for two years while also taking on random gigs where she could get them. She was getting an anxious frustration that Avery didn’t have yet. “You can’t afford to get fired either.”

“True.” Lauren flopped down in a chair. “I just need a shot. Any shot.”

“All it takes is one person to hear you at the exact right moment. It will happen.” Avery was happy to be working in the industry in any way. She had no idea how she would feel in two years, but right now, she was just grateful. This wasn’t the vision she’d had of moving away from home, but in the end, it was even better than she had imagined. Not having a boyfriend was freeing, and she was learning a lot about herself and what she was capable of accomplishing.

She started playing the song she’d been working on. “Let me know what you think of this. It needs work in the middle bridge.” It was a raw, melancholy ballad she had been tinkering with, and she had just added the lyrics. She started singing softly, knowing her voice wasn’t her strongest asset—but it was safe in the office with just Lauren to hear. After all, she wasn’t writing songs for herself to sing, but for someone with the talent to carry them.

It was a song about watching her life fade in the rearview mirror. About being left broken and betrayed. About waiting for a promise that would never be kept.

Lauren closed her eyes, a habit she had when she was listening. She said it helped her see the sheet music in her head. She was more of a literal songwriter than Avery was and they complemented each other that way.

As she sang, Avery heard voices in the hallway and she regretted that the door was open since this wasn’t a polished, finished piece. But she wanted Lauren to hear the whole thing, so she kept singing.

As the last note trailed off, her boss Pat appeared in the doorway, her eyes wide as she made flapping arm gestures. Startled, and not sure what in the heck Pat actually wanted her to do, she put her hand on her guitar to quiet her strings. “What’s wrong?” she asked Pat.

Lauren’s eyes flew open. “Nothing is wrong. That song is fucking amazing.”

Avery sat up straighter and gestured to Pat. “No, I was asking Pat if something is wrong.”

“Oh, shit,” Lauren murmured under her breath. “Sorry for the cursing, Pat, I didn’t know you were there.”

“Not a problem,” Pat said loudly. “Now, Avery, was that something you wrote? Because it seems you have some interest in it.”

Avery’s heart started to race like a hovering hummingbird. “What do you mean?” she asked, breathless.

“Mr. Hart was in the office and he heard you singing.” Pat gestured to the hallway. “Right in here, Mr. Hart. This is Avery O’Leery, one of our newest staff members. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to meet you.”

Mr. Hart. Mr. Hart the music producer.

As in Shane? No, please dear Lord, no, anyone but him.

It was him.

He came around the corner, and his expression told her he was as shocked as she was. “Avery?” he asked. “I had no idea you worked here.”

Oh, no. He did not just make it obvious they knew each other.

“You know each other?” Pat asked, her eyebrows rising in curiosity.

Shane stood in the doorway, and there he was, all dark eyes and lean muscle, and sexy lips that had been everywhere on her body. Tugging at her nipples, nestled between her thighs… Oh, damn. She felt heat bloom in her cheeks. She hadn’t expected to see him ever again. Certainly not here, in front of her boss, while he raked his eyes over her as if he remembered what she looked like naked. She felt naked under his gaze.

He gave her a long, sensual, searching look, before turning to smile at Pat. “Just briefly. It involved a lost purse and some coffee, nothing more.”

That was unexpectedly harsh. It had been a whole lot more than coffee. But still she was grateful he was being discreet.

That night had lingered in her mind ever since she left him sleeping in the hotel. She had dreamed about Shane. She had run her hands over her own body in the shower fantasizing about his mouth on her. She had stalked the crap out of him online and found that he was thoroughly inaccessible on social media. Which was a blessing. Because she didn’t need the distraction of a man in her life, nor did she need the ability to contact him, and either embarrass herself completely or land herself right back into man trouble. It was best to just leave it as it was.

Despite the fact that she hadn’t stopped wondering about him and what he had thought of their brief time together, she had come to terms with the fact that she would probably never see him again. Now he was standing in front of her looking handsome as sin. He had jeans and a navy button-up shirt on, untucked. He had a silver ring on his hand that appeared to be a skull, and expensive black boots from the looks of them. She glanced at his crotch. She didn’t mean to, it just happened.

Fortunately, no one noticed her decided interest below his belt.

Pat didn’t seem to require any response from her, taking Shane’s statement as good enough. She laughed and said, “Goodness, that sounds like a potentially amusing story.”

“It is.” Shane looked over at her again, his brown eyes unreadable. “But I think you had to be there.”

Avery broke his gaze, afraid she would blush or that her expression would give away her confusion and discomfort. Also, the insta-lust she felt on seeing Shane again. It was like her inner thighs were having a Pavlovian response to him. See Shane, grow damp. She felt the need to cross her legs and did just that, which had the added benefit of pushing her guitar up to block most of her body in a protective shield she desperately needed.

Of all the times and places she could run into Shane again, work was the worst possible one.

“This is Lauren Scott,” Pat said, gesturing to Lauren, who was sitting and staring at Shane.

It was the only time she’d ever seen her friend speechless. Not that she could blame her. She couldn’t seem to squeeze any words out of her own mouth.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Shane said.

“Thank you, you too.” Lauren suddenly leaped to her feet, snapping out of her fog. “It’s such a pleasure, sir.” She stuck her hand out and he shook it. “I really admire your work.”

“Thanks.” Shane glanced over at Avery. “Is that all yours or did you write it with Lauren?”

She still couldn’t seem to speak but Lauren shook her head and answered for her. “Not me. That’s all Avery’s.”

The vehement statement made Avery really grateful to Lauren. She wasn’t always sure who was a true friend and who wasn’t in her new environment, and the fact that Lauren so clearly didn’t want to steal any credit was reassuring. “I’ve just been tinkering,” she said, finally finding her voice. “It’s not finished.”

“That’s pretty damn good for just tinkering.” He turned to Pat. “Do you mind if I have a private meeting with Avery? I want to hear the song again.”

Lord. Her palms started sweating for multiple reasons. “That would be an honor,” she said, because it would be. But maybe he didn’t give two shits about the song. Maybe he just wanted to cuss her ass out for leaving him in her hotel room without saying goodbye.

Her words seemed to actually make him uncomfortable. He ran his hand over his jaw. “Give yourself a little more credit, girl.”

Pat touched Lauren’s arm and gestured to the door. “Of course you can listen to the song again. We’ll be in the boardroom when you’re done.”

They left and Shane stepped fully into the room and closed the door behind him. When he turned to her, he didn’t speak for a minute. He just studied her, his eyes sweeping from head to toe. Finally he spoke, his voice low, tender. “Hi, Avery.”

“Hi, Shane. Fancy meeting you here,” she said, with a nervous laugh.

“I had no idea you were a songwriter.” He stood, feet apart, hands in his front pockets. Casual. Almost disinterested.

It was so bizarre to see him again like this, when she had left him naked and asleep. The cool politeness which was required from both of them seemed at total odds with the dark intimacy of hot skin and passionate kisses. It was confusing as hell to her.

“I didn’t know you were a producer or you know, like, famous.” She cleared her throat and put her hands on her cheeks to attempt to cool them down. “Good Lord, I’m so embarrassed right now, I can’t even tell you.”

“Why are you embarrassed?” His voice didn’t reveal much emotion and he didn’t move any closer to her.

“You know why.” He was purposely being obtuse and she didn’t appreciate it.

“Because we had sex?”

Jesus. He was just throwing it out there. “Yes.”

“Or because you left me alone in that hotel room with a four-word note?” he said, as a slight edge crept into his voice.

She pressed her lips together. She honestly didn’t even remember what she’d written in the haze of confusion and shock she’d been feeling that morning. Clearly it hadn’t been Pulitzer material. “That too.”

“Or is it because you didn’t tell me you were a virgin?”

Oh, yeah. That. Her teeth tore at her bottom lip. “How did you know that?”

He gave her a long look. “It doesn’t really take a genius to figure it out. You were clearly inexperienced and the look on your face when I got inside you was evidence enough, even without looking at the sheets the next day.”

She was literally going to die from embarrassment. She was going to faint, hit her head, and die, and she would welcome it. This was not a conversation she wanted to be having at work, or basically ever. “Dear Lord, please keep your voice down,” she hissed. “Pat will hear you.” If she got fired from her dream job because she had banged Shane Hart, she would hate herself for the rest of her boring and broke life back in Kentucky where she’d be forced to flee in humiliation.

“No one is listening at the door.” He shook his head. “But fine.” He moved further into the room, and lowered his voice. “Why didn’t you say goodbye?”

That was an easy question to answer. “Because your sister called and I saw her picture and then she texted and I wasn’t looking to be nosy, but to turn your ringer off because you were still sleeping, and when I realized who she was, I worried that you would think I was trying to get in good with a producer, and I didn’t want you to think that. Plus, I was embarrassed about not telling you it was my first time and…” She lost her train of thought. But it was enough. It pretty much covered the gist of the situation. “It just seemed best,” she finished a bit lamely.

“Okay.” Shane nodded. “I understand. I know you had a rough time that night. I just hope the morning we spent together made it a little less awful.”

That eased the tension in her shoulders. He wasn’t going to make a big deal out of anything. They could talk about this once, here and now, and then never again. “It did. It more than did, so thank you. I had a really great time.”

He took another step towards her, and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking. The room felt small, his presence huge. He was so damn gorgeous. It was still surreal that this thoughtful man, this sexy, larger-than-life, well-respected producer, had been all up on her business. His tongue and the things he had done with it was something a girl just didn’t recover from quickly. But it seemed like a very erotic dream. Not real life. Not her life.

“Was it decent?” he asked, and his voice had changed. It had gone low, seductive, a verbal caress.

Her nipples hardened and she swallowed the hot saliva that had suddenly filled her mouth. She glanced over at the door, convinced Pat was going to walk in at any minute and she would lose her job for being too personal with a producer. “Um, that’s probably not the exact word I would use.”

“No? That’s funny, because it is the exact word you used.”

She wasn’t sure what he was talking about. She didn’t remember saying it was just decent. “It was amazing.” Perfect. It had been perfect. She owed him for that, but what exactly did she have to offer? Not a whole lot other than hardy appreciation. “You were really great to me and I truly am sorry I wasn’t totally upfront with you. I just got swept away in the moment.”

Shane bent over and put one hand on each of the armrests of her chair. He was enveloping her and she instinctively shifted back, raising her knees, creating a barrier of limbs and guitar between them. He looked like he was going to kiss her and that both thrilled her and terrified her. She could not be kissing him in the office. Or anywhere. Ever.

“What are you doing?” he asked. “You look afraid of me.”

“Of course not. I’m just nervous about getting caught.”

The corner of his mouth turned up. “Caught doing what?”

He was teasing her, playing some kind of game she didn’t understand the rules to. She was, as he knew full well, not that savvy with men. It made her mad, which made her feisty. “Caught kissing, which is what I think you’re aiming to do, and to be totally honest, I would probably let you. Then regret it.” It would be the dumbest move on the planet to get involved with him again, knowing precisely who he was. Before, she could plead ignorance. Now she knew everything, and while she was a nobody, he was important, and she would be stepping in a whole mess of crap if she willingly got involved with Shane Hart.

“Why would you regret it? Do you regret the last time?”

“No. But this is a conflict of interest.” Or something like that.

He scoffed. “It is not.” But he did stand up. “I want that song,” he told her, in the no uncertain terms of a man who was used to getting precisely what he wanted. “And I want you. Tell me I can have both.”

Well, if that wasn’t simultaneously the most arousing and irritating thing she’d ever heard in her life. She stood up, because she didn’t like him looking down at her. “Oh, and that’s just that? I don’t have a choice?” She didn’t even know what he meant by want her, but she assumed he meant more sex. And while her body might think that was the finest idea ever, she had to be smart, even as she felt an unmistakable flicker of lust deep down between her thighs. Where only he had been.

Aside from all that, who did he think he was, ordering her around?

Shane Hart, that’s who.

Mama was right. She always got muddy. Every last time.