Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
The rumor that cold showers help when you fall asleep feeling unsatisfied and wake up feeling even more unsatisfied is one hundred percent promoted by the water company. Don’t fall for it. Cold showers don’t solve shit!
Tips and tricks for every situation from divorce lawyer Connor Stone
Man, don’t leave these notes lying around just anywhere, there’s a thirteen-year-old girl running around here! - Cian
Connor couldn’t remember ever using so much cold water and achieving absolutely nothing. It was a damn waste — and physical torture.
Wanting Rachel James was possibly the stupidest thing he’d ever done.
And this from the man who'd once persuaded his little brother to stick three peanut butter cups up his nose because then a peanut butter cup tree would grow within easy reach of his mouth. Okay, no. That idea was brilliant, and Alec’s disappointment that it hadn’t worked was definitely worth his mother’s lecture.
His father probably hadn’t even known it had happened until his death, since he never noticed such things.
Connor had known that the thing in the alley was a stupid idea.
He knew he wouldn’t be able to forget it, and that it wouldn’t be enough.
But he hadn’t been thinking clearly. Rachel had looked at him, challenging him with her gaze, her body — and he hadn’t been able to resist winning another bet.
He hadn't been able to resist tasting and feeling her. He’d become addicted to watching Rachel’s lips part in pleasure.
No more provocative words coming from her mouth, just his name and the word yes.
Normally, he never had a problem forgetting a woman.
He could do it as quickly as he’d made her come.
But two nights and three X-rated dreams later, he could still hear Rachel’s moans in his ear.
He could still feel her nails digging into his shoulders.
He fantasized about her tightening around his fingers.
And he didn’t like it. This woman spent far too much time in his head.
It was time for her to either pay rent or get out!
“Connor, what do you want to eat? If I have to ask again, I’ll just bring you a bowl of black olives.”
Blinking, he looked up. Tara was staring down at him expectantly, and Cian and Ada were looking at him sideways in confusion. Gareth glanced at his phone and wrote an email.
Great. Now Rachel was responsible not only for his lack of sleep, but also for his lack of concentration. And that double perpetrator probably didn’t even know about her crimes.
“Eggs Benedict,” he replied curtly. “And coffee.”
“Black as your soul?” Tara asked kindly.
“Yes, please.” He put the unread menu back on the table. “By the way, if you bring me olives, I’ll sue you for assault.”
She laughed and ruffled his hair. “I’d hire Gareth as my lawyer; he’s better than either of you. So forget it.”
Cian snorted. “Gareth wouldn’t even know you hired him because he’s too busy buying some hockey player from Canada.”
“I would have known, and I did,” Gareth replied absently. “Tara, bring him olives.”
Ada giggled, Tara grinned, and Connor sighed.
“How can you work, drink, and still participate in our conversation?” Cian asked, annoyed.
Gareth didn’t even look up. “Tara already told you: I’m a better than you.”
“Oh. I’d just get Hazel Barrow as my lawyer. Gareth could never beat her, even back at Harvard.”
Gareth lowered his phone and looked up sharply. His gaze was as intense as every sound that had come out of Rachel’s mouth in the alley on Friday. “You’re an asshole, Connor, and shut the hell up,” he said coldly.
Connor bit back a smile. Okay, he'd gone too far. He knew the unspoken rule about not saying Hazel’s name. But he just wasn’t feeling particularly friendly today, and Gareth’s hostile reaction was always reliable when it came to his nemesis, Hazel.
“Hey,” Cian said, displeased, covering Ada’s ears. “There are children here.”
Ada rolled her eyes and tugged at his hands. “I know the word asshole, Dad. It’s actually very important for being able to describe our human anatomy in as much detail as possible.”
Connor laughed. God, he loved that kid.
“You’re such a smartass,” Cian remarked, displeased.
“I wonder who she got that from,” Gareth muttered, busy with his phone again. He’d had a decade of practice pushing Hazel out of his mind, so it came easily to him.
Shit, maybe he could give him some tips? Because Connor didn’t know how to get rid of Rachel. To live a normal life again, he needed to stop thinking about her!
“Hello.”
Great, now he could hear her voice.
“Hey, guys, our goat’s thirsty from the walk, don’t mind us.”
“Hi, Hailey,” Ada said, flashing a smile at someone behind Connor. “And I don’t know who you are…”
A laugh rang out, making the hairs on the back of Connor’s neck stand up. “I’m Rachel.”
Fuck.
He didn’t even want to turn around. He didn’t want to see her and be reminded that everything about her made him weak.
This, although anyone who knew him would claim that weak wasn’t even part of his vocabulary.
But now that he knew how she not only looked soft, but felt soft too.
.. that she played as dirty as he did and enjoyed it.
.. that she was so ridiculously intelligent that he had to work hard to keep up with her.
.. Shit. A woman he disliked so much shouldn’t be so damn attractive.
But even Gareth glanced at the new arrivals, so it would seem odd to just ignore them.
Reluctantly, Connor turned in his chair and looked up.
In the shade of the palm trees on the Sunny Umbrella’s terrace stood Hailey, Rachel, and Sir Bleat-a-lot.
Sure, Hailey had named the goat Scotland-Beard, but it bleated so damn often that this name was more fitting.
The goat wasn’t really the interesting part right now because, while he couldn’t ignore Rachel, she apparently could ignore him.
She was wearing one of those damn summer dresses again that gave men and the wind stupid ideas. It had a moderate neckline and reached down to her knees. But it was red and clung tightly to her torso, and his brain didn’t need much encouragement to replay the images from Friday night anyway.
Shit, he had to pull himself together! They were two adults who had had a one-night-stand, just casual, non-real sex.
The situation had no novelty value for him.
Even if it had never pissed him off so much that a woman smiled at everyone else, but skipped him as if he were nothing more than a hole in the ground.
“Ah, you’re Maddie’s sister,” Ada concluded. Her father definitely told her too much. “I’m Ada, and that’s my dad over there.” She pointed at Cian, who dutifully spoke up.
“Guilty as charged. Nice to meet you, Rachel.” Smiling broadly, Cian stood up to shake her hand. “I’ve been dying to meet you for a week.”
Rachel took his hand and...shit, was she blushing? Because Cian was smiling at her? Connor knew that most women responded like that to Cian’s charm, and normally, it didn’t bother him, but... his friend should sit back down on this one, damn it.
“Is that so? I’m really not that interesting.” Nervously, she tucked her dark hair behind her ears.
“Oh, yes, you are,” Cian assured her. Why was the asshole still holding her hand? “I just had to know who managed to conjure up so many shades of red on Connor’s pretty face!”
“Wait.” Of course, now Gareth was joining the conversation. “Is this the betting woman?”
“Her name is Rachel, Uncle Gareth,” Ada said, rolling her eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, sorry.” He smiled brusquely. “Hi, Rachel. I’m Gareth. Thanks for tormenting Connor. Cian and I sometimes forget our duty to punch his ego into shape, so a helping hand is much appreciated.”
Yep, now Rachel was really blushing, but she still wasn’t looking at him. “I’m not tormenting him.”
Oh, she had no idea. Not that he’d admit that to the idiots who called themselves his best friends.
And he certainly wouldn't admit it to her. But the whole Friday night had left him...confused. It had been too much fun. Even the non-sex part. It had been fun in a way he couldn’t even describe.
The evening had felt familiar and comfortable, but at the same time, it had been charged and terribly tense.
“Ah, don’t be so modest, Rachel,” Hailey said with a grin as she untied Scotland-Beard from its leash and Cian sat back down.
The baby goat bleated happily, then fixed its gaze on him and ran at him, ramming its head against his knee.
He sighed heavily. He’d wandered over to Match Me!
too many times in the last few weeks. Scotland-Beard had apparently mistakenly accepted him as part of its pack.
And pack members apparently turned their butts to poop precisely an inch from his shoes.
The goat looked at its handiwork with satisfaction and then turned to the water bowls Tara had set up for dogs.
Fantastic.
Ada giggled, and Cian didn’t bother to hide his chuckle.
“Oh, that’s a compliment,” Hailey said sagely. “He only does that to people he feels comfortable with, and he may not be a great judge of character, but he does have a weakness for nice shoes.”
“And Hugo Boss. Obviously,” Gareth said absentmindedly.
Rachel laughed, and his head jerked up. She didn’t look away fast enough.
Her eyes were as green as the palm trees above her, and the smile slipped from her face as soon as his gaze met hers.
She swallowed. She looked at his face, at his chin, which was currently covered in a seven-day beard rather than a three-day beard.
Her eyes trailed down his neck, to the spot where she’d bitten him just before she came.
Where a small red mark still reminded him where her mouth had been, even though he’d needed it somewhere completely different. ..
Rachel jerked her gaze away. She gulped again, and her face turned even redder before she squeezed her legs together.