3. I’m Not That Guy
Chapter 3
I’m Not That Guy
Ash
“L
et me get this straight. You want me to give up a day of football and beer to work on Ori’s house?”
My brother Braden is none too happy that I’ve volunteered him for duty this weekend, but I know I can finagle a yes from the guy.
“She’s overwhelmed after purchasing the Dean Estate and I don’t want to see her get taken advantage of by some sleazy contractor.”
Braden snorts out a laugh as we walk over to One More Page for our mid-morning dose of caffeine. “Three weeks ago, you would have relished the idea of her losing her shirt to a scumbag.”
“Times change. Besides, you like Ori.”
“I always have but you felt a distinctly different emotion toward the woman.”
I shrug, pulling open the door to the bookstore. “Like I said, times change. Are you in or not?”
Braden sighs, tugging a hand through his dark hair. No doubt he’s adding this to my ever-expanding list of IOUs. “I’m in, but you’re buying me coffee for the next week.”
“Dude, I buy you coffee now,” I volley back as we sidle up to the counter, where Ori’s co-worker Mina—her right-hand woman at the bookstore—is waiting with a grin. “Morning, Mina.”
I scan the perimeter of the bookstore, but Ori is nowhere in sight. When I turn back to Mina, she’s watching me with a sly smirk.
The woman knows exactly who I’m looking for and she’s loving every minute of it.
“What can I get you two?” Mina asks, a hint of color climbing her cheeks when Braden offers her a dimpled smile.
What Braden and Mina need is a locked room and some private time, though my brother would sooner die than admit it. I know he’s got a thing for the stunning blonde, but he’ll never act on it—and I have no idea why.
Something to pick his brain about later.
“That Jamaican blend this guy loves so much.” I jerk my chin in Braden’s direction before pivoting to take another sweep of the store. “Where’s your fearless leader?”
“She’s not here yet, which is odd. Ori is never late.”
But I know exactly why she’s running behind. Our pizza picnic didn’t end until after three in the morning, when we awoke curled up together on the couch. Despite the warmth of her arms, the cold had settled into the basement, and Ori said it was time to head home.
I begrudgingly agreed.
I rarely hang around long after the deed is done, but it’s different with Ori. Something about her embrace just feels right.
Plus, we were busy.
I got that woman off several times last night. Damn, she’s breathtaking when she comes. Don’t get me wrong—any orgasm is an ego boost, but with Ori, she’s on a whole different level.
Plus, she’s fucking delicious. Getting her off gets me off, even if my cock and I aren’t on speaking terms this morning.
Ori offered numerous times to lay aside her rule about dinner before coitus, but I stuck to my guns.
I want to take her out. For some reason, I need to prove I’m not the man she’s so sure I am—even though she’s had me pegged since day one.
I chuckle and run a hand along my jaw, remembering the taste of her honey on my tongue. “Cut her some slack. I wore the woman out last night.”
Mina scoffs at my bold statement, but it’s a gentle hip check to my right that steals my attention.
I glance down at Ori, grinning as she shoots me her favorite mock glower.
“Tell me, who did you wear out? Certainly not me, because I’m raring to go this morning,” Ori teases, flashing a cheeky smirk.
“You slept well. Admit it,” I whisper, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek.
“Sure. Chamomile tea helps.”
“My tongue helps,” I volley back.
“Yes, it does,” Ori purrs, her eyes fluttering shut as she bites her pouty lower lip.
Fucking tease.
Ori loves pushing my buttons, but what she doesn’t realize is I’m more than happy to take full advantage of every perk that comes with our newly forged friendship.
She thinks I won’t take her right here? Bend her over this counter and peel those pants from her luscious ass? Sink balls deep inside her as I mark every inch of her as mine?
That visual is enough to wake up every body part, desperate for some additional playtime.
I grunt and shift my leg to adjust myself, grateful for the baggy jeans. Without them, there’d be no hiding the effect Oriana Thorne has on me.
But of course, Ori notices. The woman notices everything.
Mina clears her throat, breaking up our flirtations as she slides a cup of coffee my way. “Sorry to interrupt your party.”
A bark of laughter escapes my brother, and I realize that I’d forgotten anyone else was here besides Ori.
This isn’t the first time, either. Hell, it’s every time with this petite siren, which is far too dangerous a concept for my taste.
Ori shoots me an appreciative glance as she adjusts her glasses before giving me a playful punch in the arm. “Real nice. Getting me all hot and bothered. Don’t you have work to do? Sexy women to ink?”
“Messing with you is far more fun.”
She runs her fingers along the collar of her shirt. “You’re just hoping for another wardrobe malfunction.”
“Prettiest view in town.”
She really is. Ori isn’t my usual type, but she’s exquisite. She’s the living embodiment of a sex kitten librarian, and I’ll fully admit I have a raging fetish for it.
And for her.
A confident grin splits Ori’s face as she rests her palms against my chest. “You’d better go or else we’ll have to discuss your behavior in my office.”
Fuck, can we? Screw clients. I’d far rather spend the day screwing her.
“Please?” I chuckle, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “Before I forget, me and the guys will be up at your place on Saturday around nine.”
Ori claps her hands together, thrilled I haven’t forgotten my promise to inspect the damage at the estate house. “You’re the best. Thank you for this. I know it’s hardly a fun way to spend the weekend, but I’ll bring lots of food and hopefully make it a bit less painful.”
Braden waves his hand, dismissing her worries. “No problem, Ori. We’re happy to help.”
He means it, too. Although he’ll give me some good-natured ribbing about it, he’s fine with missing a few hours of football and beer.
Ori notices a well-dressed customer standing by the antique bookcase and waves toward him. “I have to run, but have a great day.”
I watch her stroll over to the man, her face lighting up in a smile as he sets down his briefcase to engulf her in a hug.
A muscle jumps in my jaw as I observe their interactions. All I know is, if he tries that maneuver again, I’m breaking his hands.
Mina notices them, too. “He’s been in a few times. Keeps saying he’s searching for first editions, but I think he’s gearing up to ask Ori out.”
The fuck he is.
“Who is he?” I snap, taking a long pull of coffee to hide my irritation.
Mina shrugs. “I think his name is Kevin. Obscenely wealthy, judging by his outfit. That briefcase costs over ten grand.”
“Fucking waste of money,” I grumble.
I clear my throat, my eyes glued to them as they chat on the other side of the store. Why the hell is he standing so close to her? And why is she letting him?
Then the man glances in my direction as a sneer spreads across his face. Clearly, he’s enjoying the reaction he’s provoking in me, but if he doesn’t back the fuck up, he’s going to end up with a pair of black eyes.
“We’d better go,” Braden says, nudging my arm. “I don’t have bail money.”
Swallowing down my jealousy, I huff out a breath, forcing a smile for Mina. “You let me know if he bothers you two. I’ll handle it personally.”
“Thanks for looking out for us.” Mina bites back a smile as she hands us a few muffins from the case. “On the house. Oh, and Ash, I wouldn’t worry too much. Seems Ori has a type and he’s not it.”
I nod and rock back on my heels. “Who said I was worried?”
Mina lets my question lie, but her smile speaks volumes.
And she’s not the only one.
From the corner of my eye, I catch my brother’s knowing smirk as we stroll back to Black Lotus , but I refuse to acknowledge it.
I know what he’s thinking, but he’s wrong.
Grabbing the tablet at the front desk, I open the appointment app and check over the damage for the day. Shit, we are booked solid.
I was supposed to leave early today, but when Ori told me she had to work late, I opened my schedule back up. Hey, some extra cash is always nice, but I didn’t expect this in a few short hours.
“Have you seen this?” I hold up the tablet, determined to steer our conversation to neutral waters. “Apparently, the three of us believe there are twenty-eight hours in the day. We need a receptionist, because at this point, there’s no time to sleep, eat, or shit. Don’t even get me started on extracurricular activities.”
“Mm-hmm.” Braden’s response sounds innocuous, but it’s the way he’s watching me. No matter how long I linger by the reception desk, I’m not escaping the noose of this chat.
With a grunt, I slug down some coffee. “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t even say it.”
Maybe if I play off my situation with Ori like it’s nothing, my little brother will believe me.
No such luck, judging by the shit-eating grin on his face.
“Fucking stop before I beat you.”
“What?” Braden throws up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m happy for you.”
“There is nothing going on between Ori and me.” I scratch my chin, reconsidering my words. “Okay, there’s something, but not what you’re thinking. We’re hanging out. That’s all.”
“Right,” Braden drawls, biting back a laugh. “That’s why you’re skipping out on your day off to help her repair her house … because you two are buddies.”
“Exactly.”
“And you only go next door half a dozen times per day because the coffee is so good.”
“You said it.”
“And you damn near lost it when that guy hugged her.”
“Yeah, because he’s a sleaze bag and should respect her personal space. Someone has to look out for her—she’s tiny, okay?”
“Fucking liar. All I can say is it’s about damn time, Ash,” Braden retorts.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I pivot to face him. My first appointment isn’t for another thirty minutes, which gives Braden plenty of time to give me crap about Ori. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He furrows his brow, clearly perplexed by my question. “You and Ori. It’s a good thing. She’s a great woman, too. She’d have to be, to coax your ass into settling down.”
I slice my hand across my throat in a cutting motion. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Easy there, killer. No one is taming me or tricking me into settling down. That’s not how I roll. You know that.”
I expect my stern response to end this chat.
It doesn’t.
Instead, Braden perches on the green velvet couch in the reception area, a wary look flickering across his face.
He’s going to get into it.
Even though I’ve told him—nay, warned him countless times to never bring it up, he’s going digging.
Son of a bitch.
“Ash, it’s been over ten years, man. You’ve got to let it go. Lucille wasn’t worth the energy then, and she sure as hell isn’t now.”
“This isn’t about Lucille.” Total fucking lie, but it’s the only comeback I have at the moment.
“Isn’t it? Haven’t the last ten years been all about Lucille? She was a heartless bitch, and you’re lucky you didn’t get caught in her web.”
One thing about Braden—he knows how to hold a grudge against my ex.
He also had Lucille pegged from the start, but even after what she did, he never threw it in my face. Never once did he say, ‘I told you so,’ or remind me how he warned me.
Not that I don’t blame myself daily for not realizing the truth sooner. I still do, and nothing can change my mind.
I won’t allow it.
Emotional distance keeps me safe, and that’s the way I like it.
Now, if only I could convince Braden of that.
“You’re right. I’m damn lucky to have slipped Lucille’s clutches and I will never wind up in that position again. I’ll be in my office if you need me.”
I make it four steps before he throws out a comeback.
“There’s something to be said about a serious relationship with the right woman.”
With a choked laugh, I pivot on my heel. “Says the man who’s not in one.”
“If I met the right woman, I would absolutely consider it. You’ve met the right woman.”
“I meet lots of women.”
“And you’ve fucked even more, but are you happy? What Lucille did to you was beyond messed up, but when are you going to stop blaming every woman out there for her indiscretions? When are you going to stop blaming yourself?”
“Dude, if I wanted a therapy session, I’d still be screwing my shrink.” A callous comment, no doubt, but I need Braden off my back about this love stuff.
My brother doesn’t get it. His heart has never been decimated.
Mine has, and I’ll be damned if it happens again.
Besides, I’ve been completely up front with Ori about my lifestyle. She knows exactly where I stand on relationships.
I’m honest with every woman—no confusion, no false expectations. That way, no hearts get entangled, and no blame gets thrown my way when I have the audacity to stay true to my word.
I keep it simple and straightforward. Any woman who doesn’t like it knows where the door is, and I wish her the best in finding a man who can fill that role.
I really do.
Because I’m not that guy.
Braden can tell from the set of my jaw that I’m done with this conversation, but although he might walk away now, I haven’t heard the last on the subject. When he latches onto an idea—no matter how ridiculous—he’s like a dog with a juicy bone. Fucking relentless.
“You’re an idiot,” he mutters, tossing his coffee cup into the garbage.
“Why? Because I’m telling the truth?”
“You’re so mired in past grievances you don’t know what the truth is.”
That’s where he’s wrong. I know exactly what the truth is. And it fucking terrifies me.
Will I admit that? Not a chance. Even admitting it to myself takes serious effort.
But Braden sees the difference between Ori and all the other women who have drifted in and out of my life.
I see it, too, and that’s exactly why I must keep my wits about me.
The raw, unvarnished truth?
The thought that won’t stop bouncing around my brain, no matter how much I try to reason it away as insane and impossible?
I don’t want to like Oriana Thorne this much.
I don’t want her running through my thoughts on an endless loop or her image tattooed in my memory.
And it’s not just the sex, though I know that’s what Ori believes.
It’s everything.
Her smiles, her snarky wit, that husky laugh—even her infamous eye roll when I’ve stepped in it yet again.
I invent reasons to be near her, even if it’s only for a few moments. How I felt like a fucking king when she walked into Black Lotus last night and staked her claim on me.
It’s all the little moments when she doesn’t think I’m paying attention.
And it’s exactly why I need to keep her at a safe distance.
I’ve been down this road before, and I know how the ride ends.
Trust me, it’s not pretty, and I’ll be damned if I fall down that rabbit hole again.
Not even for Ori.
No matter how tempting the idea.
It must be a full moon.
That’s the only explanation for the string of cockups throughout the day. Nothing major, thank God, but countless minor inconveniences in an already swamped day.
First, the phone lines went down. Then the ink delivery I’d been waiting on for days ended up at the wrong address—again. And when one of the hydraulic chairs gave out mid-session, I was damn near ready to throw in the towel and take up bartending instead.
By the time I finally heed the gnawing hunger in my stomach, it’s almost three o’clock. My morning coffee is long gone.
On the plus side, I finished a side piece, which took over twelve hours to ink. It was worth every second, judging by the woman’s excited squeal when she saw it in the mirror.
A gorgeous woman, too, her extensive ink adding to her already gothic vibe. Turns out the admiration was mutual—she pressed a cash tip and her cell number into my palm before blowing me a kiss and strutting out the door.
“Another number? How many does that make this week?” Zane asks, giving me a slap on the back.
Zane has been at Black Lotus for years, so he’s well-versed in my dating habits. But let’s be real—the man isn’t exactly hurting for female companionship, either. Three is his favorite number, and he’s never short on takers.
“Five, I think? It’s been a slow week.” I rub the back of my neck, trying to work out the kinks. “I’m starving and my head is blasting. Want to call in a pizza?”
“No need,” a familiar voice chimes in from over my shoulder. “I saw you guys were swamped, so I brought in some fuel for your fires.”
A grin breaks across my face when I turn to see Ori standing in the reception area of Black Lotus , her arms loaded with bags.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say, though I’m so damn glad she did.
Ori shrugs, setting the bags on the table. “No big deal. I stopped at the deli and got several sandwiches, a few sides, and some drinks. Then I swung by the liquor store to grab an after-hours treat for you three.”
“You brought us food? I’m so marrying you, Ori.” Zane grabs one bag and peers inside, groaning at the delicious smell.
I know the man is joking, but something about the appreciative looks he’s giving my petite brunette irks the fuck out of me.
Hold up. Did I just refer to Ori as mine?
I shoot Zane a stern gaze. “Nice try. Hands off.”
“Yeah, I think she’s already been claimed,” Braden chimes in, giving Ori a high-five before snatching a sandwich from the bag.
“I’ll leave you guys to fight over the food. Have a good afternoon. Don’t have too much fun with the whiskey.” Ori winks at me, flashing a glorious smile before strolling toward the exit.
“Like I said,” Braden murmurs, grabbing me around the neck, “you’re a fucking idiot if you let her go.”
I brush off my brother’s comment, but deep down, I know he’s right.
Women like Ori don’t come along every day and she deserves the best of everything—all the romance, all the trappings.
And sadly, that’s something I can’t give her.
Thanks to Ori saving our asses—and stomachs—the rest of the day passes without a hitch. Before I know it, the world is dark, and our final customers have vacated the premises.
Time for that after-hours treat.
I stroll to the water cooler and grab three cups, but my gaze lands on a Maybach parked on the opposite side of the now-empty street. The only reason I notice it?
He was there earlier today, too. My money says this car belongs to the asshole in Ori’s store this morning.
But her store sits locked up tight, so why is he still here?
Time to shut this situation down, even if it’s all in my head.
I unlock the front door and step onto the sidewalk, crossing my arms and pulling myself to my full height. My gaze locks on his vehicle, making it clear I’m onto him.
Sure enough, the engine turns over seconds later, and he pulls onto the street. But he’s in no hurry, barely crawling along at ten miles an hour.
When he’s parallel to me, the window lowers a crack—just enough for me to glimpse his beady eyes. Then he revs the engine and guns it down the street.
“Asshole,” I mutter, shaking my head as I retreat to the warmth of Black Lotus .
I grab a cup of whiskey, my gaze drifting to the darkened interior of One More Page.
Ori is gone for the day. Judging by the hour, she’s probably asleep by now.
I wonder what she’d do if I dropped by her place.
Then it hits me—I have no idea where she lives. She owns the Dean Estate, but it’s uninhabitable. For some reason, not knowing where she calls home doesn’t sit well with me.
What if she needs help? Or someone to reach a box on a top shelf?
What if she’s lying there right now, thinking of me, hoping I’ll make a midnight visit?
What the hell is wrong with me?
Scrubbing my face, I take another sip of whiskey. Have to hand it to the woman—she’s got great taste in single malt.
Then again, she’s got great taste in everything.
Retreating to my office, I settle in to work on a custom design, but my mind keeps drifting to Ori, curled up in bed, her naked curves begging to be explored.
A woman with the tightest pussy and sweetest taste on the planet.
Get a fucking grip, man. She may be hot, wicked smart and a goddess in bed, but she’s still just a woman.
Nope, I don’t believe me, either.
She’s not just some woman, and if Lucille hadn’t ripped me to shreds all those years ago, Ori would be perfect wife material.
I did not just think that.
But I did, along with a million other thoughts centered on Oriana Thorne.
Too bad she didn’t stroll into Sparkwood eleven years ago, when my heart was still capable of love.
But Lucille ended any chance of that.
The shop phone rings, and I grab it, assuming it might be a client. Hey, they call at all hours.
It’s not.
“Hi, cowboy.”
My hand tightens on the phone, a death grip to match the unease surging through me. “Lucille?”
Is this some kind of sick joke?
Her husky laugh, so unmistakable, carries through the receiver. “Bingo. What’s shaking, bacon?”
Is she serious? My ex is calling me out of the blue to have a casual conversation?
The gall of this woman.
“What can I do for you?”
“Where do I begin?” she replies, her levity grating on my nerves.
“Are you drunk?” That has to be it. Drunk dialing explains a lot. I down the last of my whiskey, knowing I’ll need it to get through this call.
“No, I’m not drunk.” Her voice softens, the giddy edge fading. “Sorry, I was nervous about calling you.”
Lucille? Nervous? That’s a first.
I scrub my face with my free hand and groan. “What do you want? I’m exhausted, and I want to go home.”
Her voice drops to a whisper, muffled like she’s covering the receiver. “I can’t talk to you over the phone. I don’t know who might be listening.”
What in the hell has she gotten herself into now?
“Are you in some kind of trouble?” And if so, why are you calling me to discuss it?
“Do you have a free hour or two this weekend?”
Typical Lucille—ignoring my questions and bulldozing me into conceding to her demands.
Sorry, love. I don’t play by your rules anymore.
“For what?” I ask, drumming my fingers against my desk. “Is this about that custom piece we did in Vegas?”
“Umm … not really, no,” she says, her voice so low I barely catch it.
“Not really? That’s a yes or no question, Lucille.”
I’m losing patience fast.
“Hang on.” Her voice fades, muffled by some garbled exchange in the background.
Honestly, I’m tempted to hang up, because I’m in no mood for her variety of bullshit.
She comes back on the line, the background noise now a dull roar. “That’s better. I walked outside.”
Why do I care? Better yet, why am I still on this call?
Consider it morbid curiosity.
“So, this weekend? Are you free?” she presses.
“I’m not. I’m helping a … friend with her house. Why do you ask?”
But Lucille continues with her cloak and dagger game. “I need to talk to you, but it has to be in person. Please, Ash, I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important. Do you have time next week?”
She has got to be kidding me.
“Of all the people in the world, why are you calling me? Don’t you have some friends who can help you?”
“I can’t trust them, Ash. You’re the only one I can.” Her voice wavers, thick with emotion.
Don’t do it. This is a terrible idea.
But despite my brain’s warnings, I huff out a sigh and relent to her request. “Fine. I can find an hour or two next week. You want to give me your number or?—”
“I’ll call you. It was great hearing your voice.”
The line clicks dead, leaving me staring at the phone.
“Don’t tell me that was a last-minute addition to tomorrow’s schedule, because my hands are aching.” Braden stands in the doorway, massaging his palm.
I lean back in the chair and release a noisy exhale. “That was Lucille.”
“What the fuck does she want?”
“To talk.”
“Maybe she should have done that ten years ago. You know, told you she was married before she started fucking you?” Braden snarls.
“Good point.”
“You told her where to shove her request, right?”
I shrug, pouring another finger of whiskey. “She said it was important. That she can’t trust anyone else.”
Braden yanks off his ball cap, running a hand through his hair. “Ash, come on, man. You know she’s not worth it. Don’t do this to yourself.”
“I’m not, Braden. She asked to see me this weekend, but I told her we’re busy helping Ori.”
“Good. I’m glad you told her no.”
I run my tongue ring along my teeth, unsure I want to say anything more.
But my brother knows me too well. He reads my silence like a book.
Braden narrows his eyes, his disgust palpable. “You didn’t tell her no.”
“I told her I’d find time next week. She said it was important,” I mutter, sounding like a broken record.
“What’s important is getting your head out of your ass before you wind up right back where you were ten years ago,” Braden snaps before storming off, throwing up a hand for effect.
There is no love lost between my brother and my former lover, but can you blame him?
Braden had a front-row seat to the nuclear meltdown of my one and only romance.
In the beginning, he loved Lucille, too. She was wild with a devil-may-care attitude that made her fun as hell.
She’d do anything on a dare—including riding topless down the streets of Sparkwood on the back of my bike. Per Lucille, she was in love with all the richness life offered.
Turns out, she was also in love with another man, and that man was her husband.
I learned this valuable piece of information after I blew my savings on a diamond ring for the two-timing bitch.
My family and friends rallied around me, but they don’t know the whole story.
Everyone thinks Lucille and I ended that night.
We didn’t.
A stupid move? You fucking bet. But I was in love with Lucille for a long time—and in hate with her for even longer.
So, when she approached me at a tattoo convention, desperate to talk, I played it to my full advantage.
She wanted a second chance, but I had no intention of giving her my heart.
Not again.
I’d done that one time too many.
I wanted revenge.
And so it played out over the next several years. We’d hook up occasionally, but it never went beyond the cheap motel room. She was my dirty little secret, always on the down-low, and no one but us was the wiser.
But even that lost its appeal.
When my ex cornered me last week at the Vegas convention, desperate for a little side action, I flat-out refused.
This time, I wasn’t interested.
This time, I had Ori waiting for me at home—a fact which really piqued Lucille’s curiosity. She asked about my new woman, but I ignored every inquiry.
Ori is none of her business.
A realization settles over me as I acknowledge I don’t want to speak to Lucille—not about anything. I don’t care if I ever see her again.
Lucille is no longer a part of my life, and that’s exactly how it’s going to stay.
Braden is right. Any further contact with her is asking for trouble, and Lucille has already brought enough of that to last a lifetime.
“Are you ready to go?” I ask, poking my head in my brother’s office. “My headache is back, and I’m ready to call it a night.”
Braden meets my gaze, but he doesn’t smile. He’s still fuming over Lucille’s attempt to worm her way back into my world. “Sure. We can go.”
“Hey, you’re right about Lucille. She’s not my problem anymore.”
His eyes widen, suspicious of my one-eighty. “You mean that, or are you blowing smoke up my ass?”
As soon as he asks, I know the answer. “I mean it, Braden. She’s my past and she’s fucking staying there.”
“I’m glad. You’ve got a good woman next door. Don’t mess that up.”
Braden is right—Ori is spectacular, the total package. But no matter how many feelings swirl in my gut for that sexy librarian, I know I can’t give her what she needs.
Lucille’s phone call serves a taunting reminder from the universe that love can’t be trusted and that I was played for a fool once.
Love is no longer an option for me. Lucille made sure of that.