Chapter 10
FARMER STEFAN
Stefan
He might mean Parvati. Maybe he’s referring to the general manager, Violet. Or possibly the new yoga instructor, Briar. But if I know Hayes’s taste as well as I think I do, he’s keen on our new mascot.
But I don’t let on right away. I want to have some fun with this intel. After I take a drink of the ale and set it down, I shoot him a curious look. “Jessie? Really? I never pegged you for the type to go after the boss. But more power to you.”
Hayes rolls his eyes. “Yes. I flirted with the team owner in the elevator. That makes perfect sense.”
I clap his shoulder sympathetically. “She’s married, my man. Maybe best to shut that crush down?”
“Don’t think you fooled me right now. I know you know it’s Ivy,” Hayes says.
Well, cracking that case was easy. “Only because it’s that obvious.”
Gage cackles as he sorts some glasses. “This I have to know. Tell me how Hayes made his new puppy-love crush known to everyone.”
Hayes drops his head to the bar. “Why did I come here?”
“Because it’s better than The Great Dane,” Gage says.
I let my jaw drop in over-the-top shock. “Those are fighting words.”
“I know and we’ll fight later,” Gage says, then turns his focus back to Hayes. “Now. Spill.”
Hayes lifts his face and turns to me, then Gage, looking dejected.
“She’s feisty, she’s fiery, she’s funny.
She likes gardening and standing up for herself.
And she’s hot as sin. I’m starting to avoid my own building.
I’ll probably have to live here soon just to resist her,” he says, gesturing behind the counter as Gage grabs some glasses from the dish rack.
“Cool, there’s a sleeping bag under the bar,” Gage says.
I take another drink, and already the wheels in my head are turning. This is better than I’d hoped for. This is fan-fucking-tastic. I had no idea he was into Ivy, but then I shouldn’t be surprised. We’ve always had the same taste in women.
Excellent taste.
“So, why not pursue her?” I ask, feeling him out.
Hayes grimaces. “An office romance is not a good look for the new guy. Besides, I should focus on hockey. Fitting in with the team.” I know that matters to him.
He wants to find a place to call home, though he’d never put it in those terms. I want him to, as well.
“But she’s…something else. We just vibed. ”
That explains the moment I saw passing between them in the hallway the other day. A twinge of jealousy curls up in me. I want that spark with her too, but she was a little cool with me. Or perhaps just professional? I’m not sure where she stands with me or if she’s interested.
I’m the wild card here.
Hayes is into her. She’s into Hayes. I’m into her. Would she be into me the way I suspected at the calendar event? And if so, would she be interested in us sharing her?
It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve shared a woman in bed. Or even the second or third. But this is a delicate situation, being a workplace tryst and all. It’ll require finesse.
But, like I told her, as Number18, I’m up for the challenge. And I’m particularly savvy with these sorts of arrangements.
I draw a deep, satisfied sigh. At last, I have a project to keep me truly busy. Flirting with Ivy, feeling her out, and laying the groundwork for a special night where my friend and I can introduce her to the most mind-blowing sex there is.
Doubling her pleasure.
With my plans forming, I return to the convo. “She’s a cool one,” I say of Ivy, subtly egging Hayes on. “Always been fun to talk to. I can see why you’d be into her.”
There. Step one. Make him see that it’s okay to want a co-worker. Hayes can be rigid. He needs someone in his life who knows how to bend the rules.
He shrugs. “Win some, lose some. But it’s no big deal. It’s not like I was going to marry her. Or date her even.”
Gage snorts, then flicks a dismissive hand at both of us. “Pretty boys are always trouble.”
“Aww, you think I’m pretty,” I mock.
“Please. I can tell who looks like a fuckboy, and that’s you, Stefan.” He points at my buddy, too, in accusation. “And you, Hayes.”
I pat my cheek. “I can’t help it. I was blessed with good bone structure.”
With a smile, Hayes lets his gaze drift downward. “I was blessed with it too. Everywhere.”
Gage mimes gagging. “Enough about your bones.” He grabs another glass and pours from the tap. “Also, does this new crush mean you’ve put that Tia shit behind you?”
I shudder at the mention of Hayes’s ex. “He’d better put Tia behind him. Because she was one hundred percent wrong in her assessment of him.” No one messes with my friends.
“Dead wrong,” Gage confirms.
“Yes, Tia’s in the past,” Hayes says.
“Sounds like Building Girl needs to be there too,” Gage says.
Oh, no. I won’t let him rain on my plans for a sex parade.
“I don’t know about that,” I say. “Sometimes Hayes plays hockey even better when he’s…happier,” I suggest, sowing the seeds for a night for three. Just call me Farmer Stefan.
Hayes acknowledges that with a nod. Yup. I’m right. “That may be true,” he says, “But I don’t need romance fucking up my head. Saw enough of that with my dad.”
From what he’s told me, it wasn’t easy for Hayes to watch his dad jump from woman to woman, from hurt to hurt, from broken heart to broken heart. All the more reason for me to engineer a night of fun for my friend.
“Hayes, up for a run in the morning?” I ask.
“Always,” he says.
And so it begins.
* * *
The four-mile run I’ve planned takes us through the hills of the Presidio then down to Lower Pacific Heights. We peel off miles till we finish.
Conveniently, we don’t end our run near my three-story home at the top of Pacific Heights with its spectacular view of the Golden Gate Bridge. Instead, we’re a mile away, off Fillmore, pulling up outside Hayes’s building. I’m strategic that way.
And I’m also very, very thirsty. “I need some water. Help a guy out,” I say, panting, sweat dripping down my T-shirt. I might even need to take it off if my plan works well.
Carelessly, Hayes points to a nearby fire hydrant. “There you go. Or I could set out a water bowl for you.”
“How generous.” I ignore the offer and trot up the steps to the building’s revolving door.
“And feel free to let yourself in,” he deadpans.
“Don’t mind if I do.”
He comes through the door right behind me. “Let’s get a drink then hit the weights in the building gym?”
“Fantastic.” It’s almost as if I’d thought of it myself. Once we’re inside the penthouse, and I’ve guzzled a glass from the tap, I gesture to the winding staircase leading to the rooftop. “I’m craving a fava bean.”
With his dark eyes, Hayes shoots me a look of disbelief. “Who craves fava beans before they work out? Who craves fava beans at all?”
I point to my chest. “This guy.”
“Seriously?”
“Some men crave potato chips. I have a thing for fava beans. Don’t judge me.”
“I will judge you for your oddball craving as much as I want.”
“Fair enough. But seriously, that garden is a major selling point. I need to check on it. When the Avengers lock you up, you’ll probably go buy some mansion in Cow Hollow.”
Hayes laughs dryly. “Yeah. Right. More like when you get the place back once they trade me.”
This guy. My heart bleeds for him. He’s on edge. “That’s not what I mean.”
He just shrugs. “But I should check on the veggies anyway. The previous tenants left a list of instructions, and it’s fuck-all confusing.”
“Eggplants are complicated. I understand,” I say solemnly.
We head to the rooftop, and I drink in the gorgeous view of the city. “I should take some more pictures from up here. It’s stunning.”
“Yeah, the views are great,” he says, dryer than usual. Then he points across the block. “You can see The Great Dane from here.”
“And vice versa.”
I spin around and head to the planters, pluck a fava bean, and pop it into my mouth while Hayes scans the gardening instructions left in the small shed, then stares at a gigantic green leaf, also known as kale.
His brow furrows. His gaze strays from the leaf to a weed, to the instructions and back again.
I’m practically holding my breath. C’mon. Connect the dots.
“What am I even staring at? Is that kale or a weed?”
And we’re getting closer. But I’m not about to tell him. “No clue. Ask Google,” I say casually.
He snaps a pic, then, presumably uploads it.
And shit. Fuck. Hell.
He wasn’t really supposed to ask the search engine. “I think it’s a weed,” I say, before he tells me the results.
“You do?”
“Yeah. Definitely.”
“Google says it’s kale,” he says.
“Well, do you trust Google or me?”
“What do you know about gardening?”
A lot. “Enough,” I say.
“Enough to be dangerous,” he counters. Then, finally, he follows my breadcrumbs and says, “I’ll just ask Ivy. She loves to garden—said she got it from her grandma.”
Brilliant. I turn to hide my face and how pleased I am. “Have her come up. Check it out in person. Easier that way.”
I munch fava beans while he’s busy on his phone for a few minutes, then he looks up and asks, “Can she bring her dog?”
I love it when a plan comes together. “Of course.”
“Cool. I hope she’s not bummed when she sees you, though,” he says with a grimace, then a long sigh. “But she probably will be. I’d better warn her.”
“And fuck you too.”
With a smug smile, he taps out a message on his phone, then meets my eyes. “There. Let’s just hope you don’t scare her away.”
I hope the same. But I can be very convincing. For starters, I strip off my shirt.