Chapter 6
LAWSON
The brown brick of Serenity House Women’s Shelter towers over me as I wait by the front steps, feeling more than a little guilty about my last poor choice of words directed at the woman I have to share an enclosed space with. I should apologize.
I should eat my damn words.
The clack of heels closes in, and I look up from the message I sent Mack. I’m so far out of my depth with this fiery woman. I thought I could handle working here. With her.
Maybe I should talk to Reed instead? God knows Rubes keeps him on his toes.
Carlie’s in a dress today—red—with black heels.
Fuck a man where he stands. I loosen the tie around my neck and force a platonic smile as she side-eyes me and stalks past.
Great. Just fucking great.
“Carlie, wait up.”
With a sigh, she stops and spins back. “What, Rawlins?”
“Did you get somewhere with those numbers I put on your desk?”
She tilts her head, closing the space between us at the top of the stairs on the landing. She smells goddamn incredible. Like spice and vanilla, or is that something floral?
“Serelle gave me access, so I don’t need your little handwritten love notes anymore.”
“Love notes?” I raise both brows at her.
She made a very clear point of hating being called Princess. But by the look on her face, it didn’t hit the way I assumed it would. Just when I think I have her pegged, she surprises me.
I’m an idiot.
That’s most likely her MO. Say one thing, do the other.
“You know, those sticky notes you stole and then littered my desk with?” She raises her chin, and it’s all I can do to not let my gaze fall to the soft, delicious-looking creaminess of her elegant neck.
The thought bursts when she says, “And who could forget the whiteboard covered in your formidable scrawl? My vibrator legit ran out of batteries last night when I replayed those words over and over in my mind.”
Her red-stained lips part on a feigned desperate breath, letting her head fall back.
My last breath stalls out.
The image of this stunning, hot-headed woman arched on a bed, impaled by her vibrator, sends my blood rushing south faster than humanly possible.
Sweet Jesus.
I try to clear my throat and choke on the absence of air that should be inflating my damn lungs.
I grind my molars, sliding my hands into my pockets and hoping she doesn’t catch the now-stretched crotch of my slacks.
“Here I was thinking you’d be face down in your pillow, crying all night at the thought of me. ”
She huffs a breath, raising an eyebrow. “The only way I’ll be face-planting on my pillow is if I’m biting it. And nowhere in that scenario would there be you.”
Well, fuck.
She throws a smile over her shoulder, so saccharine that it absolutely registers as an insult.
Christ, it’s going to be a long day. I’m going to need a workout after the clock ticks over. I flick Miles a text and then drop one into our group chat, ‘City Crew.’
I make it up the first flight of stairs as my phone lights up. Two messages from Miles. Four in the group chat.
“Sounds like someone needs to work on some frustration.” Miles.
“I’m on shift til tomorrow. Can the boys help?”
From the boys in the group chat:
Pin her to the wall and fuck her outta ya system, bud.
Dexter.
Yeah, cos that won’t land you in purgatory. You idiot, Dex.
Griffin
Griff and Dex, two twins who couldn’t be more different if they tried.
One the party boy and reluctant legal eagle, the other the straitlaced lawyer.
Griffin is who I recommended Carlie to, but she wouldn’t know, since she obviously never opened the email I sent before I quit that hellhole Carlson runs.
The four of us have been inseparable since college, catching up at least once a month, more if a game is on that one of us wants to see.
The third floor is abuzz with the usual business when I walk past reception.
Nadia waves and smiles like we’re best friends. Like only two people who have battled a jammed copier can be. I return the smile and wave. She’s on the phone but finishes quickly and hangs up, hurrying after me. “Lawson.”
I stop, my satchel swinging into my hip. “Morning.”
“Yes, I just wanted to thank you for your help with the copier the other day. That thing hates me, I swear.” She pushes a stray strand of hair behind her ear before wringing her hands in front of her.
“It’s all good. Happy to help.”
“Oh, thanks.”
“Have a great day, hey.” I head toward the glass corner of hell.
“Um, Lawson?” Nadia is still behind me, looking anywhere but at me.
Oh . . .
Oh.
“Let’s head to the break room.” I usher her to the room we barely frequent and close the door. “I think we have our wires crossed, Nadia. I’m not looking for a relationship or anything of the sort right now.”
Her face flushes, and her focus remains stuck to the floor. “Okay . . .”
“Hey, it’s just my life, okay? You did nothing wrong, and I would be honored to call you my friend.”
Now, she looks up. “You would?”
“Absolutely.”
“Oh great. I could use one of those.”
I frown. What’s that supposed to mean?
“Alright, well, if you’re okay, I’m going to head to the office before the dragon lady starts timing my arrivals.”
She laughs at my joke about Carlie.
“Carlie is the best applicant this place has had for years. Serelle was so excited she applied.” She looks almost apologetic as she says it.
“I have no doubt. See you later.”
“Yeah, later.”
I leave the break room and walk through the desks toward the corner office. Carlie is already seated at her desk with the door open, typing away on her laptop as she glances downward at the desk and swipes up her phone. Even from here, I can hear her conversation.
“Mills, slow down. What happened?”
She rubs a hand over her forehead and through her golden waves. Nodding, she says, “It’s okay, I’ll get another one. Please don’t stress, okay?”
Don’t tell me the ice woman has a warm side . . .
She looks up to see me outside the glass door and winds up the call in a hurry.
I push through the door. “Morning.” Like we didn’t exchange words outside.
It took two flights of stairs to lose the boner that sprung at the image of her—
Nope. Not happening.
I sink onto my chair and slide the satchel from my shoulder. Flipping it open, I pull out my Mac, but when I go to pop it on the desk, the surface is vandalized with pink sticky notes, each one with a lipstick kiss covering the center.
“The hell?” I grunt.
“It would have been beyond rude to not return a sweet note to sender.”
I pluck one of the hot-pink sticky notes up, and the instant I do, the pads of my fingers meet something slimy. I pull my hand away, turning my hand over to find . . . egg yolk?
“Jesus, woman.” I stride to the trash bin as she watches, trying her best to suppress the laughter currently tugging at the corner of her mouth.
As I pull the tacky notes from the desk, she bursts out laughing.
The egg sticks, cementing some of the notes on the desk.
“You realize you have to work in this room also, right?” I growl out, thoroughly annoyed. Now the old egg smell has finally found my senses. I gag, tossing the last neon square into the trash where it damn well belongs.
“Calm your farm, Cowboy. I got us better desks. This old thing has seen its last working day.”
As if on cue, a knock rattles the glass door.
“Delivery for Carlie Lamont?” the delivery guy holding a clipboard says.
“This wasn’t in the budget I sent you yesterday,” I say to Carlie.
“Don’t blow a vessel, Rawlins, it came out of my paycheck.”
That makes my mouth gape.
“Well, don’t stand there like a suffocating cod. Help the man.” She waves at him as she plucks up her phone and laptop and slips out the door.
“Shit, sorry.” I help him wheel in the cart with two oversized boxes. “How the hell did you get these up here?”
He chuckles. “Tricks of the trade, bud. You good with these?”
“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”
“Oh, Miss Lamont has a note on the delivery slip, hold on a second.” He turns the page over. “Oh yeah, she’s got here that Rawlins is to assemble the desks. Guessing that’s you? Firecracker, that one.” He shakes his head, a stupid hilarious grin plastered over his face.
“Of course she did.”
“Have a great day.” He leaves with a wave and a chuckle, taking his flat cart with him.
I look over the boxes as the best idea I’ve had all week hits me.
And the joke’s on Lamont.
Isit at my new large glass desk with chrome angled legs and a small black three-drawer unit that sits under the left side on wheels. It’s a damn nice piece of furniture. If it wasn’t sullied by the person who paid for it, it would be near perfect.
I line up my stationery and work items on the clear surface, then go back to my projections.
After lunch, Nadia arrives with a small collection of black desk accessories she claims have been sitting in the supply room for years.
Only the price tags on them tell me she went out and bought them on her lunch break.
I’m grateful to have her as a friend and make a mental note to repay the favor.
I turn the pen holder so it’s square with the rest of the items and the edge of the desk.
It’s then that Lamont comes in to find her pile of glass, chrome, and hardware in the spot where I would have placed her new desk. Had I been stupid enough to construct hers for her.
Not a chance.
“Enjoying your new digs, I take it,” she coos. Like the shock and distain on her face as she drags her gaze from the glistening pile on the floor are completely detached from her emotions.
I check my watch. It’s almost five. “You’ve been gone all day. Looks like you’ll be here all night.”
She glances at the pile of glass desk pieces before padding to the sideboard to her tote. A minute later, she’s out the door, and I’m left alone in my smug glass castle all fucking alone.
The feeling of triumph that I thought would find me is nowhere to be found.
Dammit.
Griff slides onto the stool to my right at Murphy’s. Dex plops onto the one on the left. “Spill it,” they say in unison.
Sometimes the twin thing is freaky.
But they are some of the best people I know.
“Work’s kicking my ass.” I sip my whiskey.
Harry’s favorite. When I first moved to New York, this bar was the place I would go when I was homesick. And after months of ordering the cheap stuff, I swapped it out for the amber that currently swirls in my glass.
“More like that pretty blonde is.” Dex grins.
“Is there a minute out of any given day you’re not thinking with your cock, bro?” Griffin grumbles.
I laugh at them, placing the tumbler on the coaster on the bar. Sleeves rolled up, satchel at my feet, I order another before I’ve finished the current one.
“No, seriously, is it Lamont?” Griff says in his serious tone.
“She’s got attitude, that’s for sure.” I meet his gaze.
“The feisty ones are the best ones.” Dexter winks at me, the idiot.
Griff puts his hand up, signaling for the waitstaff. That catches me by surprise. Straitlaced Griffin talking about women and ordering a drink.
“You coming over to the dark side, little bro?” Dex nods with a ridiculous smile.
“For the umpteenth time, bro, you are literally seconds older than me, it hardly counts.” Griff orders and the waitress gives him a shy smile.
The brothers are two very different peas in a homely pod.
Dexter is all blond-haired, blue-eyed beach boy with a grin that puts the damn sun to shame while Griffin is dark haired with dark brown eyes and a square jaw that could cut granite.
Their looks and personalities couldn’t be more opposite, but their ways, their speech, and their habits are very similar.
We haven’t decided if we’re putting that down to nature or nurture yet.
“Miles coming tonight?” Dex asks.
“Dude, read the chat. Keep up.” Griff pins his brother with a look of annoyance.
“He’s off today, but he’ll be late,” I add.
“Thanks, Laws. See, Griffin? Being a decent human isn’t that fucking hard.”
Griff flips his brother the bird. Very un-lawyer like. I shake my head, still laughing at these two when an extra whiskey is set in front of me.
“Long day?” a pretty brunette says.
Her black waitstaff uniform is a stark contrast to her fair skin and green eyes.
“Something like that.”
“Our boy’s having feisty woman problems.” Dex winks at her.
Under my breath, I curse him out.
The brunette offers up a sweet smile, wiping down a glass as she checks me out. “If you need her off your mind, I’m happy to help.”
It takes me a second to process that. “I’m good, thanks.”
She hides her disappointment, just barely, walking away with the glass and tea towel in hand.
“Damn, Rawlins. This blonde’s got you by the fucking balls,” Dex says, but his attention is on the ass of the brunette now nursing her rejected ego with a scowl.
“You go. Put her out of her misery, bud. I’m going to head home.” I down the two whiskeys, letting them burn all the way down.
“You catching the game next week?” Griff asks.
“Yeah, sure. Night.”
“Night,” they say in unison.
Dex waves from the patch of bar he’s now leaning on, talking to the waitress. As I step out into the sparkling New York City night, I’ve never felt so alone in my entire life.