Chapter 7
MARC
The problem with trying not to think about something was that in trying, you achieved the opposite.
It was the same when you tried not to worry; all you managed was an irritating dance of trying to pull away from the worried thoughts before you were drawn back to them.
Then you found yourself stuck in the worrying spiral before you caught yourself and, chiding yourself firmly, yanked your mind away from those thoughts… only to come right back to them again.
I stared at the clock on my computer. Jude should have arrived almost seven hours before, but his flight had been delayed and it was going to take one hell of an Uber trip from the airport when he finally landed before arriving at the resort.
I had yet to receive a text saying he’d landed, which meant when he did, it would be another three hours from Denver before he reached the resort, and that was only because it would be the middle of the night with no traffic.
I knew planes were safe, and there wasn’t anything I could do. Hell, statistically speaking, he was more likely to get hurt or killed on the way to and from the airport than he was on the plane.
I wrinkled my nose; no, that thought didn’t help, especially when he had a long car ride to the resort.
Rather than think too hard, I drained the rest of my drink and watched the clock.
It still read just shy of ten at night, though I’d swear at least ten minutes should have passed, but it had only been two.
The alcohol was helping, but I would need more if I was going to assuage my nerves.
Of course, there was the delicate balancing act of making sure I wasn’t wasted by the time Jude got here, but it wasn’t my first time playing that game, and I could be good at it when it was important.
I poured another one and took a sip, leaning back and staring at anything but my computer.
It wasn’t my first late night, and it wouldn’t be my last. In a couple of hours, it would be the level of quiet that I loved, where I could take myself downstairs into the normally busy areas of the resort and just…
walk. It wasn’t like I disliked the people here, staff or guests, but I had always liked space, and being around people was… unnerving.
A sigh bubbled up but came out strangled as a figure appeared in the doorway.
For one crazed moment, I thought it could somehow be Jude and that the normally responsible boy…
man, had been so frazzled and exhausted he hadn’t remembered to text.
That was until I looked and realized it was Reggie.
Gone were the casual but mostly formal clothes he wore while he was ‘on the clock’, replaced by a pair of shorts and a tank top.
“Jesus,” I muttered, mostly my melodramatic reaction rather than anything he had done. It wasn’t like it was the first time he’d appeared at my office door without warning. If I’d wanted better warning, I would have closed the door.
“Jumpy,” he said, walking up and setting his tablet on the desk. “Still nothing, huh?”
“No,” I told him, and because it was Reggie, I added, “I’m trying not to think too hard about it.”
“That’s the worst way not to think about something,” he said with a chuckle.
“As I’ve been reminding myself for the past couple of hours,” I said, taking a small sip of my drink.
“Hmm, how many of those have you had?”
“Not enough, but not too much.”
“Spoken like a man who knows his own body,” he said with a laugh as he helped himself to my liquor supply. “Truth be told, I had a couple myself. But I guess it’s a good thing you called me. I’m the best distraction you could hope for…at least around here.”
“I should point out that I did not, in fact, call you,” I said with a smile.
“Well, you should have,” he said with a shrug. “So here I am, apparently heeding your telepathic cry for help.”
I squinted at him. “And how many have you had?”
“As if I need a drink to be myself,” he said, cocking his head. “Seriously, do you…want to work out?”
I winced. “A little too early for that.”
“You and your self-conscious, private gym sessions,” he said, shaking his head and then plopped down on the desk near me. “There has to be something; I could sing for you.”
I was ashamed to admit how difficult it was to focus on what he was saying now he was so close.
It didn’t help when he absently propped his foot on my desk, something he damn well knew I didn’t like, and it made the leg of his shorts droop down his thigh.
Once again, I was faced with the sight of his pale leg with wispy hair sticking out and catching the light.
Except this time it was directly in my face, and I felt my heart thump as I realized I didn’t know if he was wearing underwear or not, but I sure as hell couldn’t be caught trying to figure it out.
“Please don’t,” I said, meaning he shouldn’t move, but also that I really didn’t want him to sing. “You’re trying to distract me, remember? Not torture me.”
“Wow!” he said, eyes wide as he stared down at me. “I’m taking your alcohol away; you’re getting mean.”
I laughed at his indignation. “I’m kidding, you might sound like a cat in heat who’s been set on fire when you sing, but I like it.”
“Alright, you know what?” he asked, and a flash of disappointment shot through me when he dropped his leg and moved. “You can suffer in your self-made misery then; I don’t have to take this.”
I laughed again, grabbing his wrist and stopping him from hopping off the desk. “Maybe this is how you can distract me then.”
“By making fun of me? Sheesh, with coping mechanisms like that, maybe you should be a guest here.”
“I imagine it would probably make my life easier.”
His brow rose, and he settled back onto the desk to watch me carefully, legs dangling. “You sure you’re okay?”
“I never said I was,” I said with a smirk, tipping the last of my drink into my mouth and swallowing. “But yes, I am fine. I’m just…an overly concerned father at the moment. I’m attempting to distract myself, but as you can see, that hasn’t worked all that well.”
“Clearly,” he said with a smile, but concern in his eyes. “I’m serious; all you have to do is tell me how I can help, and I will.”
I stared up at him and was shocked to find I was tempted to tell him to show me whether he was wearing underwear. Clearly, whatever mental and emotional door had been cracked open after I’d watched him jerk himself off had not shut itself. In fact, it felt as though it had opened a little wider.
Never had I felt that close to saying something so unashamedly sexual to him.
I’d felt things before, but never to that degree, not with a restless feeling settling into the bones of my fingers, which felt unable to sit still unless I dared to reach out and touch him…
which I did not. The alcohol, not enough to settle my nerves, might have been enough to loosen some of the grip I usually had on myself, though.
He cocked his head. “Maybe I should be the one asking a penny for your thoughts.”
Startled, I leaned back, remembering I had prodded him with a similar phrase a handful of days before.
It was surprising because, really, the sneaky, curious part of my mind wondered if he might have had similar thoughts when I’d asked him the same thing.
There was no way I was going to be bold enough to ask him that, or admit what was going through my head right now, but the thought alone was enough to make my dress pants a little tighter.
“If I don’t have enough money to pay for your thoughts, then you probably don’t have enough to pay for mine,” I told him, trying to make myself comfortable.
I was torn between leaning closer to him and leaning back, in danger of tempting myself.
Of course, being closer meant playing with fire, but being further away might give away what was going on in my head because he might not be on display anymore, but Reggie still looked tempting and my dress pants would not hide just how tempting I found him.
“Oh, wow, now you’re just going to rub your riches in my face,” he said with a shake of his head. “You have no shame, you know that?”
I knew he wasn’t serious. Reggie hadn’t been self-conscious about the difference in our bank accounts since he realized I could fund most of the building and set up for Arete, so I smiled. “I have some shame; you just don’t see it.”
“Shame? What’s that?”
“True, you seem to have a noticeable lack of it.”
“I’m now figuring out whether that was a really bitchy statement or if you’re still just giving me shit.”
“It was supposed to lead into a joke in poor taste about you sitting on my desk without underwear on, bobbing your legs all over the place,” I said and felt my face stiffen as I realized that what had just spilled out of my mouth was one of the very things I told myself I wasn’t going to say.
His brow shot up. “I’m sorry, are you saying I’m…easy?”
Okay, he was choosing the playful route without the slightest hint that he thought my observation was weird. That was…good. Disappointing, which was stupid on my part, but good. That, at least, was familiar, and I could play along just fine.
“Maybe not easy, but easy adjacent…in the neighborhood of,” I added.
“Rude,” he said, finishing his drink and shifting over.
It was clumsy, and probably purposeful knowing him, as he bumped my keyboard and mouse out of the way so he was no longer sitting near my chair, but on the desk in front of it, his legs spread and resting either side of me. “Is this more or less easy?”
“This is your idea of a healthy distraction?” I asked, trying for wry and sarcastic, but hoping it didn’t sound as choked to him as it did to me.