Chapter 21 #2
I turn my head and meet her gaze. She doesn’t look away. Her big brown eyes, God, they’re so dark, almost black, like the deepest part of the ocean, soft but dangerous. The kind that pulls you in before you realize how far you’ve gone. Caring. Curious. Beautiful.
Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve gotten lost in them.
I clear my throat. “Partly. Everything changed a few years ago. When he got hooked on Oxy.”
Then, because apparently I left my cock at home, I add, “When you left for Richard.”
The corner of her mouth tilts up. Just barely, and her shoulders lift in the slightest shrug.
“I’m here now,” she says. Then she grins and nudges her fist into my tricep. “Look at you. Went from single, slutty bachelor to landing yourself a wife in a matter of weeks. Bravo.”
“Not my wife yet,” I shoot back. “Almost lost her tonight.” I search her eyes. “I think.”
She looks away, reaching for another carrot. “No, you didn’t. Don’t be dramatic.”
She sits up suddenly, twisting toward me and leaning back on a hand. Her knee brushes my thigh.
I don’t move, denying every natural instinct I have to grip her hips and lift her on top of me.
“I have to ask you something.”
I frown. “Okay.”
“Sherry.” She hesitates, then looks straight at me. “She said you referred her. Why didn’t you tell me? All this time—I didn’t even know you knew her.”
“Because I know you. And I knew you’d do this.”
Her head falls to the side with a small smirk as one of the straps of her tank slides off her shoulder.
Flirty as hell. Sexy as fuck.
“And what is it you think I’m doing?”
A soft sound slips from my lips, something between a laugh and a scoff. “Questioning whether you’re good enough. Whether you earned her business… or whether I handed it to you.”
She stiffens, sitting up straighter. Like she’s surprised that I can read her this well.
She pulls the strap back into place. “Well, did you?” she asks. “You can be pretty persuasive.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. We’ve had this conversation a hundred times. And if I’m doing it again, I’m at least going to enjoy myself.
“One,” I say calmly, “if I was being persuasive, you’d be naked and on your back.” I nod toward the pillows behind her. “Two—can’t both be true?”
Her brows knit together, irritation and confusion colliding.
“I gave you the introduction,” I continue. “You earned the job.” I meet her eyes. “Are you mad she chose you?”
“No. But—”
“Babe.” My tone drops, calm and certain. “Do you really think someone like me hires based on referral alone? I can have the best of the best for any job. You think I’d ever go in blind just because someone tells me to?”
“Well… no,” she says slowly.
“Exactly.” I lean back against the pillows stacked behind me. “Sherry’s the same. She didn’t hire you because of me. She hired you because she saw my place and loved it.” I lock eyes with her. “You designed it. I just nudged her in the right direction. You were always the right person for the job.”
She’s quiet for a beat. Then, softly, she asks, “She saw your place?” Something shifts in her expression. “Did you sleep with her?”
Jesus Christ.
“Normally I wouldn’t care,” she rushes on, like she knows exactly how that sounded. “I want you to know that. But Sherry? It just—” She makes a flippant gesture. “I don’t know. That feels… weird. Like a conflict of interest. Especially with what we’re doing tomorrow.”
My shoulders sag.
It’s not accusatory. It’s hurt.
That look she’s giving me, the one that says she’s bracing herself, waiting to be disappointed.
I hate it.
Mostly because I’ve never not been loyal to Jordan. But partly because it’s stemming from something deeper. Something still hurting her. And I haven’t a damndest what it could be.
I shake my head. “I didn’t sleep with her.
She was at my place for a party. Fourth of July.
With her boyfriend.” I watch her closely, the worry etched into her forehead, the familiar fear lurking in her eyes.
The fear of not being enough. “I’d never sleep with someone and send them your way, babe. I’d never disrespect you like that.”
Her shoulders loosen. “Okay.”
“Sherry wanted you because you’re very good at what you do.”
She smiles, and I give her shoulder a squeeze. “I mean—if I picked you, then you’re obviously the best.” I flash a grin.
“Ha. Ha.” She rolls her eyes. “God, it must be exhausting. Carrying around that big head of yours all day.”
“Well, if it wasn’t this big, I wouldn’t be able to do this.” I plant my palm on her head, mussing up her hair.
“Don’t you dare.” She swats at my arm. “You know I hate when you do that. God. I’m going to be living with a fucking manchild.”
I hold up a finger. “A child with a very large head who needs a lot of attention.”
She snorts. “No shit.”
“Speaking of children,” I add, sobering a notch, “the guardian ad litem called yesterday. They want to come see my place and interview us. It’s on the first. A Wednesday.
” I hesitate. “I know that’s not what you agreed to, but it’s really important that you’re there.
I’m hoping you can make it work with your schedule.
We’ll take my plane. Be back for work Thursday. ”
“Okay.” She drags another carrot through the hummus. “I’ll talk to my boss. See what I can do.”
“Yeah?” I nod. “Alright. Thank you.”
She shifts her attention back to the show.
“Jordan?”
She turns slowly. “Did you just first-name me? Am I in trouble?” she teases.
“Are you okay?”
She scrunches her brows. “Yeah. Why?”
“The text earlier.” I keep my voice even. “What was that about? You know you don’t have to do this. I wouldn’t hold it against you.”
She exhales softly. “Sure you would. Not intentionally. But come on, Matt. If I didn’t do this, and Cole ended up with Cece… you’d always wonder what if. You’d never forgive me.”
“I’d wonder,” I admit. “Of course I would. But there’d be nothing to forgive.” My thumb brushes over her knuckle. “I know I put pressure on you. I know I made you feel bad. But babe—if you don’t want to do this… you don’t have to. I hope you know that.”
“I do.” She laces her fingers through mine. “I just… had a moment in the Hamptons. A mini freak-out.” She lets out a nervous laugh. “I’m good now. Promise. I’ll be there tomorrow. Twelve o’clock.”
I clasp my other hand over hers and bring it to my lips, kissing it softly. “Thanks, babe. You’re the best.”
“I don’t know about that. But I am definitely opening a bottle of wine.” She scoots to the edge of the bed. “You want a glass?”
I glance at my watch. “I should actually get going. I’ve got an early morning.”
“You always have an early morning.”
“Not Saturdays and Sundays.” I stand, tossing my jacket over my arm. “Is the new Mrs.—” I pause, grinning. “—going to want breakfast in bed?”
She gathers the tray of food from the bed. “Gross. Don’t call me Mrs.” She shoots me a look over her shoulder. “Ever. Come on, I’ll walk you out.”
The walk out is about ten steps. No exaggeration. I look around one last time. The place is excruciatingly small, and the decor is simple, but it still has Jordan written all over it. Expensive. Elegant. None of this shit came from HomeGoods.
I’m not judging. Just confused.
Jordan has always lived in places with extra space. Mostly for the closet. That woman has a shopping addiction. Shoes, specifically. And she’s very good at buying them.
“Okay,” she says, wrapping her arms around my waist. “I’ll just text you when I leave my office tomorrow. Thanks for stopping by and checking on me. Even if it is creepy that you’re basically a stalker.”
I chuckle. “Is it creepy or kind of sweet and sexy?”
“Creepy.” She steps back, patting my chest. “Now go home and change. You look stiff. Good. But stiff.”
A smirk tugs at my mouth. I can’t help it. She set that one up too easily. “Only one thing that’s stiff, babe.”
She grins, shaking her head, already turning away. “Goodnight,” she calls, not looking back.
I don’t say anything. I don’t need to.
I just take her in from behind, appreciating the curve of her lower back down to her ass. Then I turn and quietly slip out, letting the door click shut behind me.