Chapter Three
Laken
If he’d thought being back in the office would fix things, he’d been delusional.
The weeks flew past with how busy they all were, yet each minute felt like ten—a hundred—when Laken hadn’t found his center.
He had vertigo, his balance was shot, and he was wobbling all over the place, only the doc had said there was fuck all wrong with him.
Tell that to my damn brain!
Could he get it to switch back to how it was before the ranch?
He’d lost the off switch. It had blindly wandered off into a sand storm and got buried after the strange moment in the cabin where he’d nearly given into the attraction he had for Isley.
It had to be that, he’d concluded, after days, weeks with the inability to get Isley’s scent off him.
Even when they weren’t together, he could smell the citrus and cinnamon.
He didn’t know how that was possible, he’d scrubbed himself from head to toe and sent everything he owned to be laundered.
Some form of Pavlov’s dog theory being trapped in the cabin for a week?
He didn’t know. What he did know was that it affected every part of his life.
He struggled to sleep, to function with simple things.
His dick thought he’d forgotten how to use his hands when he refused to jerk off, because it never satisfied the craving for the sugar glider.
He’d taken to spraying himself with aftershave to mask his scent and wearing two pairs of underwear to keep his unruly dick in check.
He’d gone up a trouser size to avoid the obvious embarrassment of looking like a horn dog.
Which he wasn’t, and never had been, but when he went to bed, he couldn’t keep his thoughts out of the gutter.
Worst of all, Popi was watching him like a hawk watches prey.
It was fucking nerve racking working to act like his life wasn’t falling apart because of this attraction.
“—do a site visit so we can determine whether they have the capabilities to take on the full European contract. After all the mess we had before, I need to know this company can meet the demands of the stores we supply.”
Laken blinked several times to get the room into focus, because once more, he’d gotten up in his head and lost track of what the fuck he should be concentrating on.
“Do I need to book travel?” Isley’s question brought his gaze to the man tapping on his iPad, a wrinkle appearing between his brows. One that indicated he was having a problem with something.
“Travel?” Laken asked, before he could rein his tongue in.
“Are you listening to me?” Silas chuckled. “I. Need. You. To. Travel. To. Paris—”
“Stop fucking punctuating each word, I’m not deaf.”
“Then pay attention. Travel, you and Isley. We need to check out the haulage company that want to take on the European market. With the expansion of the clothing markets in Europe, we need to get this right.” His tone turned serious.
“We’ve invested heavily in branching out and opening forty stores across Europe.
We need to know that supply won’t be a problem.
Having empty shelves and no buyers is not something we need with the international press now on our ass most of the time. ”
As if the universe had decided he hadn’t suffered enough, he was now going to have to take a business trip, which meant sharing a damn suite.
He just wasn’t equipped for this. Galling, but true.
Should he speak to Hollis about swapping?
When was Isley due a heat? Could he take the trip when Isley was out of the office?
As if Silas had suddenly become psychic and was able to read his damn thoughts through the phone he carried on.
“It’s got to happen quickly, Laken. Wilder has just sent Isley an email with the dates I’ve arranged with Louis for next week. I’ll leave the rest up to you.”
“Fucking generous of you!” he exclaimed angrily, not missing how Isley tensed in his seat, his fingers tapping at the iPad harder than necessary.
He worked extra hard to return his attention to the computer screen and not obsess about the sudden change in Isley.
Did he not want to travel with him? Tough, he was coming, and that was the end of it.
He didn’t bother with the fact it contraindicated all his previous thoughts of trying to prevent it. Sue him!
“We’ll have the local deliveries to the stores by the end of this week. I see you mentioned in your last email that the last two deliveries were delayed by a day or two. Ven has promised it wasn’t a major issue, but can we monitor the situation closely?”
“What do you think I’m doing over here, twiddling my damn thumbs? Why else would I have emailed you about it? There can’t be any more delays, there are penalties we have to shoulder, not them,” Laken stated briskly, pulling his head back into the game.
His brow creased at the strange sound coming through the speaker—was that kissing? “Are you fucking kidding me? Are you and Ziggy kissing? It’s eleven in the morning, Silas. What are you playing at? Surely you can show a shred of professionalism and keep it in your pants while you’re at work?”
Laken laid on the sarcasm with a shovel, feeling no entertainment at the situation with his own zero sex at the forefront of his mind these days.
He was so over having his face shoved in the romantic entanglements of his brothers.
Booker and Frey were barely bearable to be around with all the touchy feely crap at home.
Now it seemed he was going to get no respite from it at work, either.
A hiccupped-cough came from the other side of his desk, but Isley kept his head down, giving Laken the top of his head to stare at.
“Is this amusing you?” he hissed at Isley.
“It is amusing listening to you get all uptight. Is your tie strangling you about now? I bet it is. Why don’t you loosen up, Laken?
You need to get laid, and fast, to improve your temperament.
” Isley didn’t seem to care that Silas could hear their conversation.
The traitor's slim shoulders shook with silent laughter, and Laken’s gray eyes hardened to steel.
“Ziggy came in for a meeting, and it’s perfectly acceptable to kiss one’s fiancé.”
“How many times do you need to get that into a sentence? I know you’re engaged. The whole fucking world now knows you're engaged.”
The press had caught wind of that bit of information and subsequently they had left Taylin alone to start a campaign of finding out as much as possible about Silas’s fiancé.
It wasn’t going well when Booker’s bio-dad had told the press about Ziggy’s attack on him.
Of course, they’d missed out reporting the part where the bear had threatened Frey and Ziggy was only defending his friend in snake form.
It seems the big coward was afraid of snakes and ran away.
Laken held some sympathy about the shit they were throwing at Booker, who didn’t seem to care too much when they’d talked about it at dinner the night before.
Laken and Booker had never been very close because Laken hadn’t known how to take Booker’s teasing when he’d arrived at the Starling house—one he now called home—and they’d fought more than Laken had with his other brothers.
He had wanted to prove he wasn’t weak and could defend himself.
“I just like to remind you because I can,” Silas quipped, sounding far too amused.
Laken bristled at Isley not holding back his giggles, which could probably be heard over the phone.
“I don’t care about that, what I am fucking interested in is the delivery of merchandise the clothes stores need so we can actually sell the clothes we make! You know, important stuff like that which helps pay everyone’s wages.”
The last part he aimed at Isley, not that he noticed with how much he was now struggling to keep hold of his composure. The prettiness became more obvious as he tilted his head, the pale blue of his eyes glistening like the sea on a sunny day. His full lips were tugged into a mischievous grin.
Laken lost his breath for a second as their eyes locked and he felt the familiar tug of arousal low in his gut.
The air buzzed with sexual tension, and Laken, in that moment, couldn't deny it as much as he wanted to.
In the small confines of the cabin, something had changed.
He saw Isley as a man… an attractive man… a man he was interested in.
“Keep your hair on Laken.” The voice floated out of the speaker, but it made no sense when blood rushed in his ears. His dick hardened painfully from its semi-aroused state as the man opposite flushed prettily and the warming scent of citrus and cinnamon increased until it filled Laken’s nose.
“Everything will be at the local stores by Wednesday. Wilder has just confirmed the international transport delivery time is Thursday afternoon through Friday morning, so that should give you something to smile about.”
Laken grunted, hoping it was the right response, his face heating when Isley’s smile stretched wider.
It consumed his face. The sunniness of it eclipsed the gloomy room, giving Laken another punch of arousal.
This one was more obvious, sending his pheromones on the fritz and making it impossible to deny what was happening under the desk. Fuck.
“A grunt! Is that all I get? Great, I’ll catch you later and don’t forget to contact Louis to let him know when you arrive.”
The sound of the dial tone shook Laken out of his stupor, his cheeks hot with embarrassment at how he had no way out of pretending the attraction wasn’t real. Unless Isley had no sense of smell?
“I’ve got the email from Wilder. I’ve checked your calendar and begun listing what needs rearranging. I’ll check the flight schedules for the plane and once you have locked in a date with Louis, I’ll book the hotel… for us.”
Laken must have made a suitable noise of agreement and minutes later he watched Isley’s pert backside exit through his office door with no clue what he was supposed to do next.
I can help. Go chase his pert ass and bite it.
Laken’s groan was pained for two reasons. Firstly, his animal was insufferable, and secondly, his throbbing dick was filling up the office with his scent and it was impossible to pretend it wasn’t because of Isley. Where had all his control gone?
“I’m a thirty-six-year-old man, not a horny teenager,” he said to the empty office, because really, how much more pathetic could he be?
He shoved his keyboard out of the way and banged his head on the desk in the hopes it would knock some sense into him.
You really are pathetic. Give in.
Fuck you.
No, let's save that for the gorgeous sugar glider.
Do you ever give up?
Laken lifted his head and rubbed at the spot above his bushy brows to take the sting of pain away, which had done nothing to help but added to his woes with a brewing headache. “Fuck my life.”
He didn’t like admitting defeat, he really didn’t.
He couldn’t lie to Hollis and say Isley couldn’t do his job properly because he was excellent.
The spreadsheets he’d created to manage their workload and track merchandize alone made Laken’s life so much easier.
Not that he’d told him that. Every time he tried to think about being nice, he choked, seeing Silas’s sappy grin, or Booker’s when Frey perched on his lap in the family room.
Taylin wasn’t much better. Thinking about Taylin left him with thoughts of how on an away trip, Taylin and Hollis had…
He laid his head back on the desk and shoved at his unrelenting dick. “I am not fucking Isley,” he said aloud and with conviction. “He’s my employee and I will not be cliché like my brothers, I won’t.”