3. Lowen
THREE
LOWEN
Silence.
I love this time of day.
The guys won’t roll in for a few hours still, so I can sit in the office and make sure all our spreadsheets and accounting is set up for the new year. Not that I haven’t already checked it twenty times, but I’m thorough if nothing else.
The loud buzzing of the back doorbell breaks the moment, and I grumble as I rise from my seat and make my way to the kitchen. Who the hell is here for deliveries at this time of day?
After unlocking the door, I push it open to find Oakley on the other side, his arms full of boxes. My stomach does an annoying flip that ripples down between my legs, and if my cheeks aren’t turning pink, I’d be shocked.
“Good morning,” he says in his deep, gruff voice. “I figured you’d be here. I wanted to drop this off before I headed out to New Onyx.”
“What?”
Oakley smiles. “The special order for the hallway light bulbs came in. I know you really wanted them so…” He glances up at the snow falling. “Can I bring them in?”
“Oh. Yeah, of course. Sorry. Come in.” I step to the side to allow him to pass, my eyes lingering on the tight fit of his jeans and the way they hug his ass. “What are you doing in New Onyx?”
“It’s a bid for this old beat-up office building.” He sets the boxes down on the stainless steel counter. “To be honest, I’m a little intimidated. The owner is some major player out there and word on the street is he’s very particular.”
“Oh yeah? What’s his name? Maybe I know him.”
“I don’t think you do. He’s reclusive. Yves Orpheus. He’s been buying up a few of the abandoned buildings in a rougher part of town.”
I scrunch my nose. “Gentrification?”
“Not at all. He’s building affordable housing. That’s why I want the job. I hope my work is good enough for him.”
“If you can work with me and make me happy I’m sure you can pass whatever criteria he has.”
Oakley nods, and I notice how his eyes linger on my mouth. He’s gotta be replaying what happened the other night, and if I wasn’t a coward, I would rip the bandage off and discuss it, but que sera, sera.
“Do you want help installing them?”
I blink several times, aware that he said something, but not sure what. “Huh?”
“The light bulbs. I got a few minutes before I need to take off.”
“Oh. Right.” I look over my shoulder at nothing. “No, I think we can manage. Be careful. The roads might be slick.”
“I will.”
“And good luck.” I pat his arm, aware of his muscles even through his thick coat.
“Thanks, Low. Have a good day, huh?”
“I’ll do my best.”
I walk him to the door and watch him get into his truck. He waves at me before driving down the alleyway, and I shiver as the chilly wind blows snow inside. I wasn’t sure how our first interaction would go after the night we shared, but I suppose I should have known Oakley would continue to be the professional gentleman that he is.
Even rubbing like animals in heat in my bed, he didn’t make a single move to get me naked or push me beyond what I was ready for. Leaning against the door, I replay the way his strong hands held me firmly, like he was afraid I’d run, but caressed me like a priceless piece of art.
I…like him. I wish that was enough to get me over my bullshit, but alas, it’s not, and there’s a business to run. I head back to the office, alone with my thoughts.
“Damn. It’s dead today,” Ridley says, dropping a pile of mail on the bar top in front of me.
“Everyone’s on their healthy bullshit,” Indy says while he and Salem fold the new order of t-shirts we received.
“Which will last for three weeks before everyone is back,” Salem says.
“Not to mention the university is still on break until Monday,” Kit adds.
“That’s right,” Ridley says, pausing when Wren steps out of the kitchen carrying a tray of food for one of our few tables.
“Speaking of resolutions,” Salem says, his tone teasing. “Wren made a big one.”
Ridley’s neck practically snaps as he swivels his head in Salem’s direction. “Yeah?”
“He’s gonna look for a new place and finally ditch the loser. He’s just saving up money.”
“We can give him an advance if he needs it,” I say. “No one should stay in a bad situation over finances.”
“It’s more than that. There’s nothing on the market.”
“We have the guest space in the attic,” Bane says. “If Ridley can handle sleeping in the same building with him.”
Salem’s face lights up. “I didn’t think of that.”
Ridley chews on his bottom lip for a second before nodding. “His safety and well-being are more important than my crush. Of course he can stay there. If it’s cool with everyone else.”
“He’s family,” I say. “It’s fine with me.”
“Same,” Indy says as Salem nods.
“Fine with us,” Bane says, glancing at Jerryn, who nods as well.
“I’m good with it,” Kit adds.
“You want to handle it, Salem?” I ask, flipping through the mail and pausing when I get to a larger letter with a fancy envelope and my name scrolled on the front.
Conversation is happening around me, but I’m focused on the letter. I open it and pull out an embossed invitation. As I read it, my pulse picks up and my mouth goes dry. Oh god.
Indy’s hand lands on my shoulder. “What’s wrong, Low?”
I look up, blinking through the shock. “I’ve received a design award through a Parisian publication. They also want me to present an award at a ceremony.”
“That’s amazing,” Salem says. “Why do you look sick?”
“The ceremony is being hosted in New Onyx because they’re opening a branch here in the states.”
“Still doesn’t explain why you look like you saw a ghost.”
Indy takes the invitation from me and reads it, then whispers, “Fuck.”
“What?” Ridley snatches it and reads it. “Dude. Alain is going to be there.”
I try to swallow the lump in my throat, but it feels like sand. I haven’t laid eyes on my ex since the last time I saw him in court. I declined social events and timed my required appearances to avoid him at all costs. The last thing I wanted was for the media to see us in the same space, but more than that, I wanted to forget he ever existed.
“Not just there,” Indy says. “He’s one of the MCs.”
“I can’t go.”
“What?” Kit grabs my wrist. “You’re not gonna let that loser keep you from what you’ve earned. No fucking way.”
I notice Salem shifting his weight and whispering to Indy, whose eyes go wide as he glances at me.
“What?”
“Uh…” Indy twists his lips.
Salem looks uncomfortable as he takes a step toward me and places his hand over mine. “I follow a few design blogs.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I wasn’t planning to tell you, but maybe it’s relevant now?”
With my hands shaking, I nod. “Tell me what, Salem?”
“Alain is…” He blows out a breath. “He’s engaged, Low.”
The words feel like walking into a wall. “What?” I grip the edge of the bar to steady myself, unsure whether my legs will hold me up. “Oh.”
“To a designer. Gerard Stanton.”
I back away and pace in front of the bar for a second. “I definitely can’t go. The gossip mags will be all over me for a reaction.”
“Fuck that,” Kit says. “You’re going with your head held high.”
“That’s easy for you to say, Kit. He nearly destroyed me.”
“Do you still love him?” Bane asks.
I recoil at the mere thought. “Fuck no. I’d rather drink bleach than ever let him near me again. I despise him. Honestly, I could handle his smug face if I had to, but I don’t want to do it with hundreds of eyes watching my reaction. I’ve done that and I’m not going to again.”
“I have an idea,” Salem says. “What if you had one too?”
“Had what?”
“A fiancé.”
I scoff. “And exactly how would I pull that off?”
“One of us could be your stand-in.”
Ridley grins. “That’s fucking epic. Totally do that.”
I shake my head. “No. He knows you guys. He’d never buy it.”
“He doesn’t know me,” Salem says. “Or Stewart.”
Kit scrunches his nose but nods.
“No offense, Salem, but he knows I’m not the young twink type. As for Stewart, he’s sweet but we don’t have that kind of chemistry. It’s not gonna work.”
“I think you’ll regret not going,” Jerryn says. “You’ve earned it.”
“There’s gotta be a solution,” Bane says. “There’s always a way.”
“Come on, guys. Where would I find someone willing to be a fake fiancé for a week of bullshit award pomp?”
Sunlight from outside floods the space as Oakley and two guys he works with enter through the front door. He smiles and nods in acknowledgment as they take a table.
“Well, well, well,” Ridley says, gripping my shoulder. “If it isn’t a solution.”