1. “I DON’T GIVE A DAMN ‘BOUT MY BAD REPUTATION” #5
She didn’t expect him to stay any more than he expected an invitation. If he lingered, she would only blame him for disrupting her deadline.
The silence pushed him into motion. He tightened his belt and pulled up his zipper. Time to go.
Hesitating, he glanced at the kitchen one last time.
Copper pots hung over the marble slab island.
They could have a drink before calling it a night.
It wasn’t like they didn’t hang out when his brothers and Wren were around.
But that’s not what this was. None of them knew he was here—alone. With Jocelyn’s come on his cock.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath.
He knew where the glasses were kept and how to work the ice maker. He even knew where she hid the cherries he liked—the ones she despised. The ones she shouldn’t own. The ones she bought just for him. The ones they never discussed, because why would she do that?
His gaze returned to the bathroom door. Was she even peeing in there? Or was she hiding and waiting for him to leave?
“Joce?”
“What?” she snapped with fraying patience.
“You working tonight?”
“I’m always working.”
His stare drifted to the stack of books that had fallen to the floor. He lifted them and set them back on the hall table. A shirtless Viking posed on the top cover, gripping a woman in a torn bodice.
No sound came from the bathroom. A decent man would ask if she was okay or wait to kiss her goodbye, but that wasn’t what Jocelyn wanted. They didn’t do intimacy, and they both preferred it that way.
She was waiting for him to leave.
Right. He moved to the door. “I’ll see you…around.”
“Bye.” Her voice held no objection, no shift, no expectation other than wanting him gone before she came out.
He opened the door and stepped over the forgotten wine glass on his way down the porch steps.
The motion-sensor lights clicked on, exposing his presence to anyone out and about this time of night.
Urgency surged through him as his stare locked on his SUV parked where it had no business being, and his pace quickened.
Climbing into the Escalade, he forced himself not to peel out in a hurried escape that would draw attention.
For over a year now, they’d conducted their business right under the town’s nose, and no one realized what they were doing.
No one except for his brother, Greyson. But Grey knew how to keep a secret better than anyone he knew.
He never brought up what he saw the day of their father’s funeral, and Soren believed he never would. Hell, Grey and Wren were married, and he didn’t even think his brother told his wife, which was another complication, being that Wren was Jocelyn’s best friend.
But none of that mattered. This whole lie was meaningless because it would never amount to anything real. Eventually, they’d have their fill, and he and Joce would go back to simply hating each other.
Soren drove home with the windows down, breathing in briny salt air that did nothing to clear his head. The empty streets of Hideaway Bay blurred as he navigated the familiar route on autopilot until he pulled into his garage.
Once he made it inside, he changed his mind about needing that drink after all. Passing the display wall where he housed his collection of the finest champagnes, he headed straight to the wet bar and poured two fingers of bourbon just as his phone buzzed.
Olivia.
“Shit.” Guilt surfaced as he brought the glass to his lips, the scent of Jocelyn still clinging to his fingers as he read the other woman’s text.
Tonight was nice, Soren. Hope your meeting tomorrow goes well. Also, spoke to Daddy. He mentioned golf at Newport on Saturday, the 24th—said he’d give you an answer by the 18th hole. I told him you’d be there.
He set the phone face down.
An amused chuckle left in a breath. She was showing him how indispensable she could be, arranging a private meeting between him and her father days before the board vote without him even mentioning work. She warned him she was determined. He should have seen this coming.
Not that he was complaining. Eighteen holes would be more than enough time to sway Warren’s decision.
The twenty-fourth. Why did that date sound familiar?
It didn’t matter. Warren Aldrich wasn’t the sort of man to make an offer twice.
He was willing to hear Soren out and finally make a decision.
And Olivia had made it clear that, when it came to her and Soren, there would be full transparency regarding her father.
If he fucked this up with her, he could kiss her father’s vote goodbye.
And he needed the board to move in his favor.
Seven weeks should be enough to get his head on straight. Long enough to stop ending up on Jocelyn’s back porch like a lost pup. Long enough to recognize the opportunity in front of him and take the chance to finally get what he wants, with his personal goals and his professional ones.
He sucked on his lower lip, still tasting her. “Fuck.” Hopefully, this time would indeed be the last time.