Chapter 5
Chapter Five
brADLEY
The words just slipped out, and I don’t know why my dick responded. But he’s waking up. He’s waking up for my best friend, and that isn’t cool.
I clear my throat as she smiles softly, and I notice the way her face softens and her eyes crinkle at the corners. Pretty eyes. Eyes that I could get lost in, eyes that… no! Not eyes I could get lost in… what the fuck is the matter with me?
“Magic?” she laughs, breaking me free from my reverie. “What makes you think I had anything to do with this?”
“Baby Girl, it has your name written all over it.”
“Nope,” she sings. “Not me.”
A slow smile spreads across my face. She’s simply adorable. Even on my worst days, Chelsea makes everything better just by being her.
“Well, they are delicious.”
“I guess Deat may have inherited my cooking skills.” She shrugs.
“Well, he’s gonna make a fine baker himself if this is what he’s churning out at six.”
“Oh, my godddd!” Mason squeals behind Chelsea. “I’m sorry, baby cakes, I couldn’t wait. I think I’m in love with all three of these! How am I meant to choose when everything you do is so freaking amazing?”
Chelsea, a little shyly, tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear. She’s never good with compliments, and I don’t know why. She’s a fucking superwoman.
“Are you gonna share?” I ask quizzically. “Or just hoard the sponges greedily?”
Mason promptly ignores me. “He’s commandeering your attention when cake wars could be happening in the next room.”
She laughs again. “Cake wars?”
“The staff in this office are like bloodhounds when it comes to food.” He rolls his eyes. “Especially cake. You have to help me make a decision.”
“I’ll help,” I put in. “Where’s my sample?”
Mason turns to give me an exasperated look.
“Seriously, Bradley? Is it enough that you Lucas men can just eat whatever you want and manage to not blow up like a pool float without rubbing it in us mere mortals’ faces?
It takes effort to look like this.” He swipes a hand from his well coiffured, perfectly styled hair, down his impeccably tailored suit, then flounders off dramatically.
“Wow. I think I hit a nerve,” I mutter with a chuckle.
“I’d better go and calm him down. You know how he gets in times of stress,” Chelsea says with a wince.
“Tell me about it. I have to work with him.”
“I’ll save you a bite.” She gives me a small wave as she disappears and I do not notice the flowery blue and white dress she has on and how it makes her slender figure appear curvy in all the right places, or how the wedges she’s wearing make her legs look even longer than they are. Calm down, dick. You’re just deprived.
I’ve had a eureka moment. That’s what it is.
I’ve denied myself sex for too long, and now I’m paying the price.
Lusting after my best friend wasn’t exactly in the cards, nor did I plan it, but it would make sense that the only reason I’m behaving this way is because she’s the only woman I see on a regular basis.
Does that make me some kind of creep? I didn’t think so until this moment, but maybe I have to get back on the horse. Why does that suddenly sound like the most horrendous idea in the world? Holy shit. What has happened to me?
I swallow hard, the realization that I’m pathetic should have hit me sooner than this.
Chelsea is precious. She’s on a pedestal that, granted, I put her on. But it isn’t my fault. Chelsea is an angel. An angel in a world where there’s so much darkness.
So realistically, it isn’t my fault. It is my fault, however, not to act on any of these ‘feelings’.
What I need is a night out. I’ll text all my friends and see if they’re free this weekend.
We haven’t been on a pub crawl in forever, and while the club scene used to excite me, I can’t help but realize how fucking boring it is now.
The same places. Same faces.
Meeting a woman and putting your best foot forward, knowing you’re never gonna see her again.
That used to be me until recently. Don’t get me wrong.
I never led anyone on. They knew what we were doing; it was just sex.
But I’d never treat Chelsea that way. Imagining a man treating her with anything other than respect has me clenching my jaw, ready to punch someone.
I’m not known as the office grump for no reason, but this time I’d have an excuse to punch someone’s lights out.
She’s never mentioned seeing anyone lately, and I know she’s so focussed on Deaton and her business that she probably hasn’t got time to date. Then again, she’s an attractive woman, and it can’t stay that way forever. I mean, she’ll meet someone eventually. And you’ll be demoted.
I scrunch my nose up like I smelled something bad, not able to quite comprehend being put on the back burner for some other dude. Like a lightning bolt striking me, I jump up out of my chair and head for Mason’s office.
I hear Chelsea laughing, Mason talking, and as I enter his office, I see several team members taking an impromptu sponge cake tea break.
I clear my throat. “Hasn’t anyone got work to do around here?” I ask, a little more tersely than I’d like.
Mallory, one of our receptionists, jumps and almost splats a giant piece of chocolate cake on her white blouse. I narrow my eyes. “I’d better get back,” she says meekly, taking her slice to go. How much fucking cake did Chelsea make?
“Eric?” I say, my voice a little louder because he’s laughing at whatever Mason is saying.
His smile drops when he realizes it’s me. “Oh, hello, Mister Lucas, I umm—”
I pique a brow. “You have my adverts ready for this week, right?”
“You know,” he says. “I was just about to email them to you.”
I give him a curt look as he runs away with a handful of cake wedged in his hand.
“I was just helping Mason out with some emails,” Kimberley, one of the assistants to two of our other reps, says. “But I really like the funfetti, Chelsea. I want an invite now, just so I can eat that delicious buttercream again!” She runs out as Chelsea shakes her head at me.
“Cleared the room,” she says, hands on hips. “Anyone would think you’re trying to sabotage Mason’s decision making.”
Of course, Chelsea isn’t mad at me. She never gets mad at anyone. Even a grumpy ass like me.
“Ugh, you again?” Mason wipes his mouth with a Sweet Confetti embellished napkin. “I’ll have you know it’s more productive to let your staff enjoy a few minutes of deliciousness before it’s ripped away from them by a giant ogre.”
“Oh, I’m not mad about that,” I say, walking over to Mason’s desk and peering over into the three large containers. Before Mason can snap the lid closed on my hand, I reach in and grab a piece of the chocolate raspberry. “I just didn’t want to miss out on cake.”
Deaton comes running back in with a Lucas Property Brothers LA cap someone must’ve given him when Chelsea says, “That was quick. Did everyone eat the cookies, honey?”
Deaton nods, placing an empty container down on the desk.
“Why don’t you be a good boy and see if anyone in the office would like some of the cake sampler that’s left, okay?”
“Okay, but Macy showed me some photos of her new puppy. Can we get a puppy, Mom?”
“Not right now,” Chelsea says, looking a little uncomfortable. “But maybe at some point because we’d need to find a house with a yard, puppies have a lot of energy and they need to run around.”
Satisfied with that response, I high-five him on the way to the desk, and he sets about his task with enthusiasm, taking off with one of the containers in his hands.
My phone dings with a message and I pull my cell out to read it, squinting when I read it once, then again, just in case I’m seeing things.
“Oh, my god!” I say excitedly. “Chels? You’ll never believe what Dad just told me!
Wait for it…” I can hardly contain myself.
“Sweet Confetti? The building is going up for sale!”
Chelsea’s eyes go wide, and I watch in slow motion as her bottom lip starts to wobble. She darts a glance at Mason, who’s still babbling away to himself, and my eyes widen in horror as her face turns pink, and then she bursts into tears.
I stare at her dumbfounded.
Oh, holy shit.
Maybe it’s true and I need to walk around with those orange cones around me, just like my dad and brothers always tell me? I’m a walking fucking hazard, and now I’ve upset her.
Why do I always put my foot in everything when all I’m trying to do is help?
But time stands still, and I don’t like making her cry.
I vow no matter what I do from here on in, I will never make her cry again.