Chapter 18
Travis got up the next morning with a throbbing head.
Fuck. That’s what he got for only getting a few hours sleep. He’d tossed and turned for ages before managing to drift off. He wasn’t in his twenties anymore. He couldn’t survive on three hours’ sleep.
It was fucking annoying. Moving into the bathroom, he had a quick shower to try and clear his head. Then he got dressed and walked into the kitchen.
He needed to make Caren something for breakfast. Unfortunately, his housekeeper was away for a few weeks and he hadn’t done any grocery shopping since she’d gone.
Mainly because he hated it.
However, he should get some things in.
His gaze moved to the kitchen island as he thought about last night. About how Caren had sat there with her legs spread wide. How he’d made her orgasm with his fingers in her pussy. Her cheeks had flushed with color and her mouth had parted as soft, short pants came from her lips.
It had been delicious.
Was she still asleep? He glanced at the clock on the wall, surprise filling him. He hadn’t realized it was nine.
“Oh hey, you’re awake finally.” Tyler walked into the kitchen and grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl.
Wait. Since when did he have a fruit bowl? Or apples?
“And you’re still here,” Travis said dryly. “Where did the apples come from? Don’t tell me you actually brought some groceries?”
“Nah, Caren did. She must have ordered them really early this morning. Luckily, I was up and about to help her when they arrived about seven-thirty. She even put out this bowl. Said you needed a fruit bowl so you remembered to eat some. Guess she’s worried about your fiber intake or something.
I can understand that. Your face does have that constipated look. ”
“My face does not have a constipated look,” he snarled, trying to snatch the apple back from his asshole brother. “Give that back! It’s not yours. It’s Caren’s.”
“It isn’t. She bought these groceries for us. And even if they were hers, do you really think she’d want a half-eaten apple?”
Fuck.
Travis hated that he had a point. “Why would she buy groceries for me, though?”
“Dunno. Guess she was concerned for you. Worried that you might starve or something. She hasn’t seen your fat ass, obviously. You could do with a few work-outs, brother. Maybe lay off the pizza. You’re not getting any younger, you know.”
“I’m still old enough to kick your ass,” he growled. “I’ll go talk to her. She doesn’t need to buy me groceries or anything else.”
What was she thinking?
“Hope you’ve still got her phone number then,” Tyler said.
“Of course I do. But why?”
“So you can talk to her.”
“Why would I need her phone number to talk to her when I can just walk down the hall and knock on her door?”
“Um, because she’s not there, brother.” Tyler looked confused. “I thought you knew that she was gone.”
“Gone? How can she be gone? I drove her here. How did she leave?”
“Ahh, she called for an Uber, man. I walked her down and grilled the guy, don’t worry.”
“You walked her down? Why didn’t you stop her?”
“Well, I wasn’t aware she was a prisoner,” Tyler said. “If you’re going to keep prisoners and not lock them up in the basement then you need to tell me, man.”
“There are never any prisoners locked in the basement.”
“At the moment. But at some stage we all know that Rusty is going to snap and lock some asshole up down there and we’re going to have to cover for him. It’s a matter of time.”
Travis just shook his head at his brother, muttering to himself as he stormed into his bedroom and grabbed his phone.
There were several messages waiting for him, but he ignored them until he found one there from her.
Caren: Thank you for letting me stay the night. I don’t feel I need any more watching over, though. And when I woke up this morning I realized I have a meeting that I had to get home and prepare for. Hope you slept well.
He frowned. That seemed quite a formal text message, especially considering that he’d had his fingers inside her less than eight hours ago.
What was going on? Why would she just sneak out like that? And what meeting? She’d never said anything. Was that a lie?
Oh, he didn’t like the thought that she might be lying to him.
And why? Embarrassment?
Or something else? Regret?
Well, it hadn’t been the smartest idea, had it? In fact, he should likely be grateful that she had left. If she’d stayed, what would he have said to her? Thanks for the fun but nothing more can happen?
That’s what he would have said . . . right?
Because it wouldn’t have gone any further than what it had. Caren wasn’t the sort of woman he was looking for long-term. Although she also wasn’t the sort of woman that you had a one-night stand with, either.
Fuck.
As annoyed as he’d been at Tyler for walking in and interrupting them last night, he’d likely done him a favor.
No. He wouldn’t want to give Caren the wrong idea. Or to use her. He wasn’t a fucking jerk. She was his friend.
Perhaps a bit of space was what they both needed.
Much as he hated that idea.
How was he going to protect her if he was giving her space?
But friends really shouldn’t fuck their friends. And that’s what they were to each other.
Just friends.
Travis: You should have woken me. I would have driven you home. And thank you for the food, but you really didn’t need to. Friends don’t pay their friends back for . . .
Shit. For what?
As he was thinking about what to say, he accidentally hit the send button.
Well, fuck.
Now he had to say something. But what to say? Obviously he couldn’t say orgasms or near fucks or anything like that.
Shit.
Friends didn’t pay back their friends for what?
She stared at the text message. She shouldn’t have checked it right away but as soon as she realized it was from him, she had to open it. She’d been nervous ever since she’d left his apartment, wondering if he’d message her and how he’d react to her leaving. And to her gift.
It was weird, right?
Of course it was. You didn’t just buy a friend a whole load of groceries simply for letting you stay the night.
Which gave her gift other connotations.
She placed her hand over her face, as though trying to hide herself. It wasn’t going to work, though.
Idiot.
Cockwomble.
Dick.
“You all right?” the driver asked her.
“Oh, yes, sorry.” She took a deep breath in and let it out. She really should have taken the subway to get to her appointment this morning, but she’d been feeling too distracted. She just hadn’t wanted to deal with crowds.
Why wasn’t he adding anything more to that text?
Was that it? Was that all he was going to say?
Her phone beeped again. Another message from Travis.
Open it.
Urgh.
Don’t open it.
God. She’d never been this indecisive in her life! It was frustrating.
“Um, ma’am?”
“Yes?” she said distractedly.
“We’re here.”
She glanced out at the tall building next to them. Right.
“Thank you. Sorry.” Grabbing her handbag, she stepped out of the car and approached the door. The doorman opened it and she gave him a small smile.
Just open the message.
“Ma’am? Ma’am? Do you have an appointment?” A stern-looking security guard stepped in front of her and she stared up at him in surprise.
He was eyeing her with some confusion mixed with disapproval.
She guessed that they didn’t get many people in here who wore an orange fluffy scarf with a pink velvet ankle-length jacket.
And then there was her headband. She hadn’t had the energy to do her hair this morning so she’d just brushed it and used a pink headband to keep it off her face.
It also helped hide the lump on her forehead.
“Oh. Yes. I’ve got an appointment with Oliver Claire. My name is Caren Stanford. Sorry. I was distracted.”
He grunted. She bit her lip. She was guessing he wasn’t impressed with her excuse.
“Mr. Cain is ready for you. Here is a visitor badge. Take the elevator to the eighth floor.”
“Right. Thanks.” This was her second time visiting Oliver since she’d arrived in New York.
And she wasn’t sure why he liked working in this building.
It was so new and . . . and kind of soulless.
There wasn’t a lot of sun out today but what little sun there was streamed in and reflected off the shiny tile floors.
She could only imagine what it would be like on a full summer’s day.
Right now, it was starting to give her a headache.
She headed upstairs in the elevator. When she exited there was a younger girl waiting for her.
She wore a pair of wide-leg black pants with a white shirt.
A black belt cinched in her tiny waist. Her hair was kind of wild and she barely had on any make-up.
She was decidedly different from the assistants that Oliver usually hired.
She stared hard at Caren which was a bit odd, but Caren shook it off.
“Wow, you’re gorgeous.”
The girl’s intense stare turned to one of surprise, her eyes widening. “S-sorry?”
“You’re gorgeous. Stunning. Surely someone has told you that before?”
“I . . . I . . . well, not really.” She went bright red.
How odd.
Caren thought she would have heard that every day.
“Isabel!” Oliver snapped as he walked out. “You were supposed to bring Caren straight in to me.”
“My fault,” Caren told him as Isabel flinched. “I was just telling Isabel that she’s stunning.”
Oliver paused and blinked, then turned to look at the girl. “Oh. Yes. Well.”
“Sorry, Uncle Oliver,” Isabel said quietly.
Uncle Oliver?
“No, no. I’m sorry.” He waved his hand with a tired smile. “No need for me to snap like that. Come in, Caren. Isabel can you bring in coffee please?”
“Sure, I can do that.”
“Uncle Oliver?” she asked as she followed him to his office. She wasn’t sure why he’d sent poor Isabel to wait for her when she knew the way from the elevator to his office.
“Ah, yeah, my brother’s kid.”
“I didn’t know you even had a brother.”