Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
DARCY
Y es, I may have taken advantage of Ridge’s figure of speech and snuck in a little hug. I needed to smell him, okay? Maybe I should start by saying that yesterday was absolutely horrible. Not because of Lou. If anything, she was the only thing that made it good before Ridge got home with his offer.
Tyler had texted me literally all day, hinting that I should go out to the bars this weekend and meet up with him. He even had the audacity to recommend a sleepover and say there was no reason we couldn’t have an “exes with benefits” situation.
But there are maybe three hundred fifty-seven I can think of off the top of my head. Like the number of times he lied to me about being out with his friends, who are all single. Or how he told me I didn’t dress sexy enough and how I should ditch my glasses for contacts. One time, he told me I was bad at blow jobs. Another time, he said I don’t give him enough blow jobs. The list goes on.
I had refused to let it ruin my day with Lou, so I’d let myself have like, a three-minute cry in the bathroom, and then I was done with it. Tyler has a way of manipulating me and I don’t even know it’s happening. Even though I know better. But if I’m not here this weekend, I can’t get sucked in. God knows I could use a little distance.
Last night when I got home, I told Lyric what Ridge had asked of me and she got very excited that I had agreed to do it for him. When I brought up what Tyler had been doing all day, she took my phone from me and threatened to flush it down the toilet if I didn’t block him on everything. So I did. It was long overdue, honestly. I don’t know why I hadn’t before. I’d just insisted to no one but myself that we could be friendly and agreeable. And yes, that’d been really stupid of me.
Lyric also may have insinuated a thing or two about me and Ridge, but I just rolled my eyes and then immediately left the room. I didn’t mention the part of the conversation between us about begging or how I was obviously and accidentally flirting. He didn’t seem to pick up on it, though. I doubt he sees me in that capacity, so the part of his brain that identifies flirting behavior is probably turned all the way fucking off when I’m around.
But god, with the way he smiles at me sometimes, I swear it’s like I can almost believe he’s attracted to me. Maybe. Probably not. See how that works? I almost believe it’s possible and then doubt sets in.
I’m in no condition to date a man anyway. And he’s a whole-ass man who doesn’t seem like he’d half-ass anything. It reminds me of something Lyric said once. We were drunk and in the parking lot of a twenty-four-hour diner, waiting for our Uber. We’d just eaten the greasiest things on the menu and scarfed down a bunch of carbs too, to make the morning a bit more tolerable.
She’d uncharacteristically bummed a cigarette from someone, and all I could see was her silhouette and the bright red cherry at the end of it. She leaned over toward me a little too far, almost losing balance. Her face got very stern as she pointed her cigarette at me and said, “Darcy, there are men and there are boys. A boy will bed you for his pleasure, and after he leaves, you’ll shamefully whip out your vibrator and crack out an orgasm on your own. But a man takes you to bed with one agenda only. Your pleasure. Oh, and he’s sure as fuck not going to leave after.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I really took that to heart. Tyler fell deep into boy territory, while I’m quite sure Ridge is all man. It’s just the vibe he gives off.
The point is, I packed my lemon. Sometimes I call him Sir Clit Suckerton, but no one needs to know that. Ridge assured me I’d have my own room and that when we checked in, he’d take care of all of it. So I figured, why the hell not? I don’t really want to explore the city by myself, but a nice long masturbation session on fresh white hotel sheets followed by a long bath and a good night’s sleep on fancy hotel pillows sure sounds magical to me.
Code Red. I repeat, this is a Code Red situation. Turns out there are no more hotel rooms in this entire place. Not a single one. There also aren’t any rooms with double beds that he can exchange his single king-size bed for. The gremlin in my head is laughing at me.
Ridge swipes the key card, and after a little clicking sound, he steps to the side as he holds the door open so Lou and I can step inside. It’s a large room. One could even argue that it’s big enough for a second bed, but what would be the point?
There’s a small area with two comfortable-looking chairs and a table in front of a television, then there’s the bathroom to the left. Inside, there’s a large soaking tub and shower combo, and I die a little inside knowing it would have been quite possibly the perfect bubble bath.
And finally, the bed sits on the left wall. Its crisp white linens went from bringing me peace and joy to being a very loud siren. It’s wailing, Hey, bitch. Where are you going to sleep? Good fucking point, crisp white linens. That’s a good fucking point.
“Where’s the other bed?” Lou asks, unaware of this new development.
“There was a mix-up with the room and there’s only one.” Ridge sighs, scratching at his jawline.
He looks so stressed right now. And he’s given me two sideways oh-my-fucking-god-I’m-so-sorry looks. Poor guy. I mean, I’m not thrilled about this arrangement. It’s nowhere near ideal. The only thing that would make it worse is if the air-conditioning went out or—oh my god… how the hell am I going to poop in here?
“I’ll sleep over here,” Lou says, pointing at the two chairs in the sitting area.
I assess them. They are a little divided away from the bed area. It’s almost like the bathroom juts out into the room and acts as a wall between them. Which probably means I should sleep in them.
“No, I can sleep over here,” I say. “You and your dad can take the bed.”
“Absolutely not,” Ridge says. “It’s my mistake. I’ll sleep over there. You and Lou can take the bed.”
“Um, of the three of us, you’re the last one who will fit into either of those chairs in any way that works to comfortable sleep.”
“She’s right,” Lou says, backing me up.
“See, I’m right.” I look at him smugly, wiggling my head back and forth.
“But I’m also right when I say if you push those two chairs together for me, I will fit in them perfectly,” Lou says. “And you guys definitely won’t.”
She crosses back over to one of the chairs in question and plops down in it. Just seeing her sit in one of them, it’s obvious to me she’s right. I cannot say the same for myself. I was prepared to have two very terrible nights of sleep, and I was willing to do that because Ridge actually has to show up to the convention and be in a good headspace for everyone here to see him and the other guys.
I haven’t met them yet, but he told me about them on the drive down. Based on what he said, they seem like really good guys. Ridge strikes me as the kind of man who isn’t going to associate with shitty people.
“We could share the bed?” Ridge says, looking directly at me.
I swallow thickly as my face begins to burn around the edges. It’s not like he’s asking me to sleep with him. But I mean, he is asking me to sleep with him.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m fine with it if you are? It’s a big bed. It’s not like we’ll even touch.”
Ridge shrugs and nods, clearly unbothered by sharing a bed with me. I guess that’s a good thing. It’s also further proof that he doesn’t view me as someone he would pursue. That’s a weird way to phrase that. Let me try again. He doesn’t view me as a viable candidate for mating. Yeah, that’s worse. I definitely made it sound worse.
We spend the next few minutes unpacking our bags, putting our toiletries into the bathroom, and getting familiar with the television and room service options and how to control the air-conditioning. After that, we go downstairs to meet the guys for lunch in the restaurant on the first floor of the hotel.
The Porch Bar & Grille boasts a semi-fancy menu. At least that’s how I’d classify it. We arrive before the others and are seated almost immediately. We ask for waters for the table, and Ridge tells her we will wait to order drinks when everyone arrives.
Opening the menu, there’s one thing that’s immediately clear to me. These prices were not crafted with the poor college student in mind.
“Get whatever you want,” he says, like he’s reading my mind. “It’s all expensed back to the shop.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” I say. “The owners of the shop seem like really good guys.”
“They are,” he says, propping his elbows on the edge of the table and rubbing his hands together. “Bird’s Eye is like one big family of misfits. I’ve had the pleasure of meeting Hawk and the rest of them in Louisville, and I’m grateful Hawk trusted Avery to run this second location.”
“Seems like you run it based on what you say some days.”
“He’s definitely much more hands off since his wife became pregnant, but he can’t stay away and will definitely come back.”
“So what’s it mean for you when he does?”
Ridge shrugs again, his face twisting up in what looks like a bit of anxiety when it comes to the topic.
“I’ll just be back in my chair, tattooing like always,” he says.
“What’s your favorite kind of tattoo to do?”
He thinks on it for a long moment, and I can tell he’s taking my question seriously. He’s very cute when he’s thinking hard about something. Nope . Too many of those thoughts and I’ll be trying to figure out how to take myself to Pleasuretown in stealth mode.
“Honestly, it’s the ones that mean something. It’s all fine if you want something random, and it’s all fine just to want them for aesthetic reasons. But the ones who come in and are already close to tears for something I haven’t done yet really makes me want to work hard for them.”
“I love that.” I’m smiling at him in that easy way, which I know is what happens when I really mean it. And I think he can feel it, because he smiles too.
“There you guys are,” a voice says from behind me.
A look of recognition crosses Ridge’s face as he looks over my shoulder. I spin halfway around in my chair, eager to meet the other guys from the shop.
And like most times in my life, I will never be prepared for just how beautiful all these men are. Like wowza . If I walked into their shop and found myself surrounded by the four of them, they could probably collectively convince me to tattoo anything they wanted on my body.
And just like I did the day I met Ridge in the interview, I will take a very special moment to appreciate and objectify them to rid it from my system. Although, that hasn’t exactly worked with Ridge, but whatever. Hashtag Y-O-L-O .
Ridge introduces Waylon to me first, who’s the tallest of them all. He’s equal parts imposing and goofy, which is a weird combination. His stature alone kind of makes you gulp, but in a very sexy way. He’s got tattoos that run all the way from his jawline down, his arms are covered, and in the shorts he’s wearing, I can see his legs are just as packed with ink. He wears a classic gold watch with a brown leather band, which gives him this odd sophisticated edge. His eyes are light blue, and coupled with his dirty-blonde hair, he looks like he could be a bit Scandinavian. You know, if the Scandinavians had a Mafia.
When he introduces me to Banks, there’s a lot of saliva in my mouth suddenly. He’s like, so pretty. Maybe too pretty. His eyes are deep green, which work magic with his nearly black hair. It’s pushed back like maybe he rakes his hands through it often. He’s clean shaven, which I don’t usually like, but it would be an absolute sin to cover up those dimples so I totally get it. And he might have the straightest, whitest teeth I’ve ever seen in my life. Of all of them, he looks like he does double or triple the workouts they do. They’re all in great shape, but he’s just a little more toned.
Last, Ridge gestures to Killian. And he’s not just Irish in name. He’s got a quiet demeanor, much more reserved than the others. His hair isn’t a bright orange, but more like a reddish-brown. It pairs well with his light brown eyes and fair complexion. But I think it’s the haircut that takes him up a level. With ease, he’s pulling off one of those modern-day mullets, shaved very close on the sides and partying hard in the back. There are two little notches in his fade right at his left temple. It’s just really working for him.
“So, you must be the hot nanny,” Waylon says, sidling up in the chair next to me. He leans his forearm on the table, crowding my space ever so slightly.
“Um.” I panic a little because, what?
Ridge punches him straight in the arm with a decent amount of force, but if I had to guess, it was only a warning shot.
“You’re a dipstick,” Ridge says, shaking his head.
“A dipstick?” Waylon repeats.
Ridge looks over at Lou, who seems oblivious, but it’s clear he’s avoiding harsher language in the presence of little ears.
Waylon nods, catching his drift. And just like that, the conversation turns sort of normal. The guys all take turns asking me things at different times. Everyone laughs and we all get along so well, it feels like this isn’t even our first time meeting. Ridge seems to work with really great people.
But every once in a while throughout the conversation, my brain is like, “Hey, what was up with calling you the hot nanny?” Because—and call me crazy if you want—that sounded like he was repeating what he was told. Did Ridge tell him I was hot? Because the idea of that might make me pee my pants. In a strictly metaphorical sense. Probably. The very idea has my nerves a little shaken.
But Ridge described Waylon as one of those people who never takes life too seriously. According to him, the guy is always having a good time and making jokes. He was probably just messing with me, trying to get a rise.
Though, sometime after everyone finishes eating and before we stand to leave—for one very delicious minute—I allow myself to imagine what it would be like to be worshipped by Ridge. To take and take with only my own satisfaction in mind.
Because I don’t have any evidence to support my claims. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s ten years older than me. Or that when he smiles at me, it reaches his eyes. Maybe it’s just the way he runs his fingers through his hair all sexy-like and I can’t help but to occasionally objectify him.
But if I was a bettin’ woman, I’d put my money on Ridge being a very thorough and generous lover. A giver, if you will.