Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
JEREMY
Ileave Marcus’s office with a solid boner, and I have no idea why.
Well, okay, I absolutely know why.
But it’s not like we were doing anything inappropriate.
He just has large hands and dark hair on his arms, and when he leaned across his desk, his musky smell filled my senses—some sort of woodsy scent like cedar or pine.
He’s like . . . a sexy lumberjack with a professional facade, and that makes me want to pick him apart and discover all his secrets.
Fuck me. Keeping this professional is going to give me permanent blue balls.
I blow out a breath when I reach the bottom of the stairs and am just about to leave through the back door when I hear Tris call my name.
“Jeremy!”
I curse under my breath. Not that I don’t want to see my friend, but I really want to go home and take care of my dick problem.
I pause to school my features, then turn to face him. “You rang?”
Tris exits the kitchen next to the bar and stops in front of me, his dark hair falling over his forehead. “You were up there a while, so it must’ve gone well.”
I give him a reassuring smile. “I think we’re going to get along great.”
“Listen, I have a few bottles of whisky behind the bar. Maybe we should have a quick drink.” He bounces hopefully on his toes. “We can celebrate bringing you on board.”
I give him an apologetic look. “Sorry, babe. I’m actually really tired. I’m still jet lagged from my trip, and I want to get started on some design ideas before tomorrow.”
Tris nods reluctantly. “I understand. Maybe I can get Marcus to crack open a bottle with me.”
His comment gives me pause. I know drinking with Marcus, my client, is a terrible idea. But it’s just one drink, right? And why does Tris get to do it? Marcus is his boss, for fuck’s sake.
Shit. Am I jealous?
It’s a weird feeling, curling in my gut, burning like bile. I don’t do jealousy, and I’ve certainly never minded sharing before. Group activities are always good fun. But the thought of sharing Marcus makes my teeth grind.
“Actually, a drink sounds good.”
Tris’s face lights up. “Really?”
I nod. “Not too late though, okay? I gotta take Peter home tonight.” I hold up my helmet, which is still attached to my messenger bag, and Tris giggles.
“You’re such a nerd. I can’t believe you named your bike after Spider-Man.”
I frown. “Be nice to him or I’ll go home.”
Tris loops his arm through mine and guides me toward the bar just as Marcus comes down the stairs from his office.
“Marcus, sweetie, we’re going to toast Jeremy. Pretty please come sit with us?”
Marcus eyes us suspiciously. “Yeah, all right. But I’m not drinking like I did on Friday. That night I—” His eyes dart to me.
I raise an eyebrow. “That night you what?”
“Err—I drank too much. Made bad decisions. You know.” He swallows hard, and I watch his Adam’s apple bob with the movement.
I want to lick it.
Tris glances between us, clearly confused, before he goes behind the bar, bending down to retrieve what I assume are glasses, and I situate myself at one of the barstools.
Marcus sidles up next to me, and our elbows bump as he sits down.
The contact sends electricity up my arm to the nape of my neck, raising goosebumps.
He pulls away quickly, his eyes widening.
I feel nerves pouring off him, his movements stiff and unsure.
Marcus the businessman is cocky and confident, in his element.
But business hours are over, and this Marcus is hesitant—almost scared—and defensive.
As strange as it sounds, I like that I make him uncomfortable.
Really like it.
He’s obviously going through something with his sexuality; that much is clear. It reminds me of me before I met my friend Trey in high school—a scared little queer boy trying to navigate an unforgiving world alone.
But then he accidentally kicks my leg, and like a child, I kick him back. Harder.
“Ow!”
Tris reappears with three glasses pinched in one hand and a bottle of amber liquid in the other. “Everything okay?”
Marcus flushes, cutting a look my way.
I bat my eyelashes at him.
His gaze darkens. “Sorry, just banged my knee,” he mumbles.
I hate to admit it, but he’s so big and awkward that it’s cute.
Tris places the glasses in a line and pours the whisky. “Sorry, these will have to be neat because the ice machine isn’t working yet.”
We both shrug, and I feel his shoulder graze mine. For the life of me, I don’t understand why he doesn’t scoot his chair over. I guess I could move mine, but I’m not the one with a proximity problem.
Tris raises his glass. “Cheers to our newest team member, Jeremy.”
I smile, and we clink our glasses together before taking a sip. The alcohol immediately warms my belly and spreads through my limbs.
Tris leans on the bar and smiles, his eyes bouncing between us. “So the design meeting went well?”
Marcus doesn’t say anything, so I answer, “I think we have a good start. Marcus is okay with letting me take control.”
Marcus’s jaw tightens. “That’s not exactly what I said.” Tris gives him a questioning look, and Marcus continues, “But being that design isn’t my strong suit, Jeremy will make a lot of the decisions, yes.”
“I meant to ask earlier,” I cut in, “who decorated the pub in Vancouver?”
“My friend Norah did most of it, actually.” Something about the way his expression changes makes me think Norah is or was more than just a friend.
“And why isn’t Norah here to help you now?” I take a long pull of my drink.
“She . . .” Marcus’s hands are clasped tightly together in his lap. He’s so fucking tense. “She was only in town for a few weeks. She lives in the Midwest.”
“And she didn’t want to make another business trip back to the West Coast?”
Marcus looks away and shakes his head. “Er, no, it wasn’t a job for her. She just has a really good eye for these things, so I asked for her help at the time.”
“Well, she did a fabulous job,” I say honestly. I don’t know who Norah is to Marcus, but she’s clearly a sensitive subject, so I choose to be a little nicer. “I hope I can live up to her vision.”
Marcus just nods, still avoiding my eyes.
Tris’s phone buzzes on the bar, and he looks down at it with a frown. “Shit,” he says, looking up apologetically. “I’ll be right back.”
My cheeks feel hot, and I realize that I probably should have eaten something before I started drinking. Marcus takes a swallow of his whisky, his throat making an audible noise in the silence.
This is going great. I love listening to people swallow.
“It’s good whisky,” Marcus offers.
I nod, giving a stilted “Yeah.”
Kill me now.
Tris returns, and he looks guilty. “I’m so sorry. I need to go pick up my gran. Her ride home from strip bingo drank too much.” He puts his glass behind the bar and leans over to kiss my cheek. I kiss him back, and I don’t miss the way Marcus watches us. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
We stare after him, and my eyes cut to Marcus. He sighs and anxiously taps his fingers on the counter, so I change the subject.
“So, will I be meeting your brother soon?”
Marcus’ shoulders lose a bit of tension. “I hope so. But Sebastian is taking on a lot while I’m down here, so I’m not sure when he’ll have time to make the trip.” He swivels his chair so that he’s facing me, and I do the same, our knees grazing. Now that Tris is gone, he seems a little less jumpy.
“And he doesn’t mind that you make all the big decisions?”
“I’m the one with the business degree. My brother . . . if he could spend all day in the kitchen, he would.”
I fight back a smile at the adoration in Marcus’s tone. He’s obviously very proud of his brother. It makes me a little jealous, to be honest. I’d give anything for someone to love me like that. I’ve always been an afterthought.
Marcus grimaces, and at my questioning look, he says, “It’s just . . . not what I want anymore.”
“What’s not what you want?”
He raises his eyes to mine. They look a little red-rimmed and glassy. “I don’t like all this,” he gestures widely. “Running a business. I started the pub in Vancouver because it was Sebastian’s dream to be a chef, and I had the power to make that happen.”
“Would you rather be running something else?”
Marcus looks down at his empty glass, then places it on the bar with a soft clink.
“No,” he says, shaking his head. The warm lights over the bar make his highlights shine almost auburn, and I have the urge to run my hands through his hair.
“I just want to live somewhere quiet. Peaceful.” He looks so tired all of a sudden, like the world is weighing him down.
“I don’t want to do this anymore—be the boss.
” He glances up at me. “Don’t get me wrong, I worked hard to get here, and I’m good at it, but it doesn’t make me happy. Maybe it never has.”
“You have the money,” I say quietly. “Why don’t you leave?”
His expression hardens as he raises his brown eyes to mine. “I can’t. Not yet, anyway.”
I want to ask more, but the change in his demeanor suggests he’s done talking on this topic. I stand and stretch. “Well, I should get going. Thank you for the opportunity. And the drink.”
Marcus nods. “Let me walk you out.”