11. Maeve
11
maeve
Fuck Logan Matthews and the orgasms he rode in on.
My life was so much easier prior to meeting him. Before then, I was a content single mom. I had a tight group of friends, sisters who were my rocks, a family I adored, and a career that kept me more than fulfilled. So on Sunday nights like this, when Jayce spends the night with his dad, I never feel lonely. I usually get some takeout, catch up on work, or watch television that isn’t in the form of cartoons or YouTube videos.
But what I’d never do, and I mean never, is think about a man. I wouldn’t replay conversations and interactions. I wouldn’t go back and forth about whether or not I should swallow my pride and work for him. And I for sure wouldn’t pull out my vibrator and take care of myself with him in mind.
Yet, that’s what’s happening now.
And it’s all Logan Matthews’s fault.
I close my eyes as I apply the device to my clit, hating that I need to feel a release when all I’ve been doing is cursing him internally since I walked out of his mansion the other day. How dare he call me things like beautiful and smart. How dare he wear a tight T-shirt that showed off his arms to a business meeting and made me fantasize about him holding me against a wall. And how dare he sound sincere when he said that I’d have free creative rein of the house.
That might have turned me on more than anything else.
And when he grabbed my arm as I was leaving? I know he felt the connection between us too. With one touch, I was transported back to that night. The feel of his mouth on me. How his fingers knew just how to find a spot I didn’t know I had. How rough he was, but without being overly forceful. He was the perfect blend of dominant and tender.
I bite my lip and position the bud in the perfect spot as I let my mind wander back, letting myself get lost in the memory of him driving into me, giving me exactly what I needed.
“Now, Love. Come for me now.”
“Logan!” I yell as my orgasm hits me. It’s not as strong as it was the night in the hotel, but I don’t think that will ever be replicated.
Especially since I’m never sleeping with Logan Matthews again.
I take a second to calm myself down, gently put my toy away, and head to the bathroom. Since it’s just me tonight, I don’t bother changing out of my robe. Why put on clothes when it’s just going to be me, Thai takeout, and reruns of Criminal Minds?
I splash some water on my face and tug my robe tight as I head out of my bedroom and back to my living room. It’s only a little after five o’clock, but because of the time change it’s pitch black. I run my hand over the wall to find the light switch, finding it quickly and slowly bringing the lights to life.
“What’cha doing, big sis?”
“Jesus Christ!” I yell, covering my heart because I’m pretty sure it just jumped out of my chest. “What the hell are y’all doing here?”
I tighten my robe as I look into my now-lit living room to see all three of my sisters sitting on the couch. Stella looks curious. Ainsley looks guilty. Quinn looks smug as hell.
Fuck, they heard what I just did.
“We’re just checking on you,” Stella says.
“Have you ever heard of knocking?”
“We did,” Ainsley adds. “But no one answered. We saw your car in the garage and a light on in your room, so we figured we’d come in and wait.”
Did they really knock and I didn’t hear? How out of it was I?
“Yes, Maeve. We were worried,” Quinn says as she walks over to me. “And as good sisters, we came in to check on you. We rushed to your door to make sure everything was okay. We almost came in when we heard heavy breathing.”
“I need to say I didn’t do any of this,” Ainsley says. “I stayed right here.”
“Which is a good thing she did,” Quinn continues, her tone now mocking me. “We wouldn’t have wanted Ainsley to hear the moans.”
Was I moaning? “I wasn’t moaning.”
“Oh but you were,” Quinn sits me down on the couch between my sisters. “And now, the question begs to be asked, who is Logan?”
I don’t even bother trying to fight the blush that comes across my cheeks. I was able to fend off Stella the other night. Ainsley would never push me if it were just her. But Quinn? With Quinn here, I know my fate—I have to tell them.
I have to tell them everything.
But I need a second first to gather my thoughts.
And a glass of wine wouldn’t hurt.
“Why are you even here?” I ask Quinn as I stand up from the couch and head into my kitchen. “Shouldn’t you still be in Arizona teaching the youth of tomorrow? I thought you weren’t coming in for Thanksgiving until next week?”
Quinn follows me into the kitchen and grabs two bottles from my wine fridge and a bottle of water for Ainsley since she rarely, if ever, drinks. I also throw a bag of popcorn into the microwave, because I need a snack and I have a feeling my sisters aren’t leaving anytime soon. “I had PTO and I took it. Now who is this Logan? Is he in this house? If so, I think we deserve to meet him.”
I shake my head as I grab three wine glasses and take them back to my living room. “He’s not here.”
“Oh! So this was alone time?”
I shoot a look at Ainsley as Quinn and Stella let out deserved snickers. “Ainsley Mae! I expect that kind of comment from Quinn. Not from my good sister.”
She just shrugs as she reaches for her water. “Am I wrong?”
“You’re not,” I say in a sigh. “He’s…”
I trail off as I sit across from my sisters in my favorite chair. How do I tell this story? Do I just tell them about the trip? Do I admit that I had a one-night stand? Do I tell them that he was the mystery client? I mean, at some point I’m sure all of this will come out, but am I ready for it to come out in a large heaping of word vomit?
“Oh! Oh my God!” Stella shrieks, making both Quinn and Ainsley jump. “He’s the guy! The red cheeks! The trip! Oh my God, Maeve had sex!”
My two other sisters turn to Stella then back to me with looks that are filled with confusion, shock, and maybe a little hopefulness.
I guess that’s what I get when I’ve been five years man free.
“Yes,” I say. “But it’s a lot more than that.”
“Then what are you waiting for!” Quinn says, fixing herself on the couch like she’s ready to listen to a fireside story. “All the details. And don’t you dare leave a fucking thing out.”
“It’s a lot more than you think,” I admit.
“Great, we’ll order a pizza,” Stella says. “Now quit stalling. Spill.”
I take a breath and start at the beginning. This story is so convoluted, and now has so many moving parts, it feels like the best place.
I tell them about the airport bar, our flights getting canceled, and how I for some reason agreed to go to the hotel with him. How I knew it probably wasn’t my best decision, but I was going to need a room, so I might as well head over. And if another drink happened, then so be it. And that one thing led to another…
“You knew what you were doing,” Quinn says. “You wanted to fuck him.”
I shake my head, even though I don’t know if I believe me on this one. “He was attractive. Yes, but you know me. I wasn’t about to just spread my legs just because I thought he was hot.”
“Your self-control is both amazing and frustrating,” Quinn says.
“And apparently non-existent,” I say. “It took only a few martinis, some good conversation, and a hot British guy to make me lose it.”
The three let out a gasp.
“You didn’t tell us he was British!” Ainsley exclaims.
“Oh, I didn’t?” I actually didn’t mean to leave that part out. But then I realize that I left out another big detail. Might as well drop it now. “This would probably be a good time for me to tell everyone that his name is Logan Matthews.”
It takes two seconds for my sisters to register the name I just dropped.
“Shut the fucking front door!” Stella yells. “You’re telling me the man who ended my sister’s dry spell is one of the hottest billionaires in the fucking world!”
“Wait!” Quinn yells, taking a little longer to figure it out. “Isn’t that the video game tycoon who dates all those models?”
“It is,” Ainsley says. “And if I’m remembering correctly, he’s Stella’s age.”
Open mouths and wide eyes turn to me. And yup, here come the red cheeks again.
“Cougar!” Quinn crows, pointing at me.
“He’s not that young,” I defend. Though I did feel like it when I found out. “It doesn’t matter. Because it was a one-night thing. And it was great. Memorable even. But then I left in the middle of the night and went to the airport to avoid the awkward talk in the morning.”
“I bet it was memorable,” Quinn adds with an eyebrow wag.
“I can’t believe you slept with Logan Matthews,” Stella says. “This might be the best thing to ever happen to one of us.”
I roll my eyes. Of course my sister who loves reading her celebrity news would take this stance. “Bask in it now. Because it’s never happening again.”
“That makes sense,” Ainsley says. “You aren’t exactly a relationship person. You’ve gone this long without even dating, let alone having a friends-with-benefits situation. And even if you were up to that, it’s not like he lives around here. What are the odds you’d run into him again?”
I try to keep my face under control, but apparently that fails as I feel Quinn’s eyes on me. She might live in Arizona now, and I only see her in person a few times a year, but the woman will forever be able to clock my thoughts a mile away. “Where does he live, Maeve?”
I lower my eyes and take a breath. “He just moved to Nashville. He was on my plane.”
“What!” The three say in unison.
I let them be in a tizzy for a few minutes as I head into the kitchen to grab my popcorn and doctor it up with extra butter and light salt, and pour myself another glass of wine. When I return to the living room, they are still shocked.
“Did you know he was going to be on your plane?” Ainsley asks.
“I didn’t. I hoped to never see him again. I even snuck out of the hotel room in the morning. I was embarrassed and didn’t want to have that next-morning talk. So I left without saying goodbye and went to the airport insanely early. Because of that, I was sleeping as soon as I got on the plane. When I woke up, there he was, sitting next to me.”
“Holy shit,” Quinn says. “What are the odds?”
Oh, if she thinks those odds are slim, just wait until I deliver the final bomb. “It gets crazier.”
“It can’t,” Stella says.
I nod. “Remember the mystery client who kept canceling on me?”
Gasps are the only sound in the room before Ainsley whispers, “No…”
“Yes…the mystery client is Logan Matthews.”
Choruses of “holy shit,” “no fucking way,” and “I can’t believe it,” fill the space for the next few minutes. While they have their freak outs, I go deal with the pizza delivery that just showed up.
“How did you figure it out?” Ainsley asks.
“When I showed up at his house for the consultation.”
“Did he know?”
“Oh he knew,” I say, my voice now laced with a touch of anger. “He figured it out on the plane and didn’t tell me.”
I fill my sisters in with the last bit of details of the story. How the meeting was magically rescheduled. My feelings of shock and anger when I found out it was him.
“So what did you say?” Stella asks. “Please tell me your stubbornness didn’t lead you to turn down the job.”
“Of course I did,” I say. “Stubborn or not, I can’t work for him.”
“And why not?” Quinn asks, grabbing a slice. “I bet it would be a hell of a payday.”
“It would. Likely my highest commission to date, and that’s without the up-charge I’d add because he lied and I feel like it.”
I don’t know why, but my eyes meet Ainsley’s, who doesn’t look as mad as I’d like my sisters to be right now. “Please tell me you’re not taking his side.”
Ainsley shakes her head and gently dabs the corner of her mouth. “I’ll always be on your side. But maybe you’re being too harsh?”
“Too harsh? How? I don’t think I’m being harsh enough. Or did you forget the fact that he lied to me when he knew who I was? And I’m still not convinced he didn’t know the whole time.”
Okay, that last part is a stretch. But the part of me that is embarrassed and angry needs to believe it.
“For some reason, I don’t think he’s lying to you about that,” she says. “And didn’t you say he came clean? I think before you cut all ties, you should maybe weigh that into consideration.”
I let out a sigh, hating that she’s right. “He did. He kind of begged.”
Quinn groans in an overtly sexual way. “Oh God, what I wouldn’t do for a man to beg for me. Did he get on his knees? That would be so fucking hot.”
“Focus,” Stella scolds Quinn. “This is about Maeve and her remembering what sex is and us convincing her to do it again, not a list of Quinn’s kinks.”
The talk of kinks makes me think back to the elevator…and how I shouldn’t have liked that as much as I did.
“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “I turned down the job. As far as I’m concerned, I’m never going to see Logan Matthews again.”
That’s the first time I’ve said those words out loud. I should feel relieved about my declaration. Except I’m not.
No. I’ll get over it. I have to. I don’t sleep with clients, and I don’t work with men I’ve slept with. It’s my two rules.
I just added that last one today.
“Hear me out,” Quinn says. “You don’t have to sleep with him again. You’re a grown woman. Who you choose to—or not to—sleep with, is your decision. But I’m now going to appeal to Maeve the businesswoman. Does she think it’s a good idea to turn down a life-changing commission?”
Damn my sister for knowing how to get to me. “She doesn’t.”
“And think of it like this,” Stella says. “You’ve been saying for months now that you want to transition out of bachelor pads, but you didn’t know if you could. Isn’t that why you went to that conference? So what if you take this job and use that commission to take time off and rebrand? You’d be able to.”
Oh, now that’s a thought…
“Oh good one, Stella!” Quinn says, putting down her pizza so she can use her hands to fully get her point across. “Charge him an insane fee. You said he has the money to do it, and I’m guessing if he begged for forgiveness, he won’t say no. Use the money as your seed money to start Banks Interiors 2.0. This could be your final bachelor pad before shifting to designing spaces the way you’ve wanted to for years.”
The more they talk about this, the better of an idea it sounds. I have been unhappy. I’ve wanted to change direction, but the pragmatic me couldn’t see a good time to do it. How could I turn down commissions just because I was bored? But if I had some padding to get me through a few months, and it was also enough to put together a new portfolio, well, then I’d be willing to see Logan again.
Even if it meant reliving that one night every day.