13. Maeve
I pressa hand to my nauseous stomach as the elevator climbs. I don’t like feeling nervous about coming to work. This place has been like a second home to me for the past six months, and in an instant, all of that has changed. Now I’m worried about seeing Trey and all the conflicting emotions I’ll be assaulted with.
When he messaged last night, I acted as though I wasn’t as affected as he was, but that’s not the case at all.
How am I supposed to think of him as only my boss when I’ve had his cock in my mouth and know what his cum tastes like?
How can I forget what it feels like to have him buried inside me?
Or to have his mouth between my thighs?
I don’t know how I’m supposed to deal with any of this fucked-up situation. All my life, I’ve tried to do the right thing, make prudent choices, and put responsibility above having fun. And when I finally decide to do something a little risqué, this is the end result?
Fuck my life.
The door slides open and I step out to find Randy lurking in the hallway. He smiles when he sees me. “You’re just the person I wanted to see.”
Can’t say the same about you.
“Hi, Randy.”
“How have you been?”
“I’m good. Is there something in particular you need?”
He takes a step forward, placing himself a little too close for my comfort. “I was thinking we should go out for a drink sometime.”
“I thought I was clear about not wanting to give you another chance.”
“You were, but can’t we get together as friends?”
“Maeve,” Trey calls my name from just outside his office.
“Yes, sir?”
“Can I speak with you for a moment?”
“Sure.” I start toward Trey, calling over my shoulder to Randy, “See you.”
“Yeah, we’ll talk later,” he says.
Not if I can help it.
I brush past Trey as I walk into his office, and he closes the door behind us.
“What the hell was that?” he asks, a muscle ticking in his cheek.
“What are you referring to?”
“The conversation with Randy.”
“Nothing.”
“I saw it with my own eyes.”
“Saw what? I don’t have time for word games.”
“I could tell something was wrong when you were talking to him. Are you okay?” He peers down at me with concern, melting my annoyance away.
“I’m fine. I just don’t like him or talking with him.”
He steps toward me, looking concerned, and grips both of my arms, igniting every nerve ending in my body. “Has he been bothering you?”
“No, not like you’re thinking anyway.”
“Then explain it to me, please.”
I may like his concern a little too much.
The sobering thought has me tugging my arms from his grasp. “Last month, he asked me out, and at the urging of his cousin, who happens to be my friend, I accepted.” Trey scowls, and I raise an eyebrow as if to say you wanted to know. “He ended up standing me up and didn’t even text or call. When I saw him the next day, he said he got scared because I’m the marrying type. Whatever that means.”
“It means he’s a boy and not equipped to deal with someone as phenomenal as you.”
“Thank you. Anyway, he asked me for another chance, and I said no, but I think he’s trying to get me to spend time with him, hoping to change my mind.”
“You’re not going to go out with that tool, are you?”
My lips twitch. “Should you be talking about one of your employees that way?”
“Lately, there’s a lot of things I shouldn’t be doing,” he quips.
“And no, I’m not giving him another chance. I deserve better.”
He moves forward, and I hurriedly step away. The back of my thighs hit his desk, foiling my retreat. I hold one of my hands up like I’m stopping traffic, but stopping a speeding tractor trailer would be easier than stopping Trey’s imminent approach.
His hands clasp mine, holding them to his chest. “You deserve the best,” he says. “Don’t settle for less.”
I let out an irony-filled laugh. “What’s the best? Or should I say who? Are you referring to yourself, because we both know that ship’s sailed.”
He releases my hands and rakes his hands through his hair. “Fuck!” He starts pacing across his office. “After we had dinner together the other night, I made up my mind that the next time we got together, I was going to suggest we start dating each other.”
“Like going out places together?” I ask.
“Yes. Dating, and hopefully settling into a relationship.”
“Oh.” I’m elated to know I wasn’t the only one experiencing deeper feelings, but I’m fucking sad that nothing will ever come of it.
He stops pacing and stares at me with earnest gray eyes. “So if I seem like I’m struggling with our new dynamic, it’s because I am. Every second in your company, I’m fighting the urge to kiss you.”
“Trey,” I whisper, my eyes filling with moisture. “I feel the same, and if you had asked me to date you, I would’ve said yes. But all that’s changed now. Maybe not as far as our feelings go, but the rules of the game certainly have. You’re my boss, and not the man I was falling for, and that’s the way this has to be. Maybe if we act as if James and Mae are different people than us, it’ll make this easier.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t think I’m capable of thinking of you as anyone but the woman I want with every fiber of my being. But I’ll do my best not to make this situation any more difficult than it already is. You can go now, Maeve.”
I don’t want to leave. I want to step into his arms and have him tell me everything will be okay. But I push away from the desk and walk to the door. Pausing with my hand on the knob, I glance over my shoulder. “No matter how difficult our situation is, I’m glad I got to know you.” I’ve stepped into the hall and I’m closing the door when I hear his soft reply.
“Me too.”
* * *
Sheryl is already at my brother’s house when Lucy shows up with a pitcher of margaritas that she sets on the kitchen counter.
“Thank God you’re here,” I say, hugging her.
“Whoa.” She hugs me back and then exchanges a quick greeting with Sheryl. They’ve met briefly a couple of times when Lucy has stopped by to see me at work.
“I have so much to tell you both.” I eagerly start filling them in right away. “You know how I met James on Finder?”
“And he’s hot as fuck?” Sheryl confirms that I may have mentioned him.
“Well, it turns out he’s my new boss.”
Lucy’s mouth is hanging open and she’s speechless.
“Wait, I’m confused,” Sheryl says.
“James is actually Trey, my new boss. James is Trey’s middle name,” I try to explain.
“Holy shit. James and Trey are the same guy?” Sheryl finally understands, I think.
And I feel like I’m having a conversation with Joey from Friends. “Yes, they are one and the same.”
She makes an explosion sound and gestures as if her mind’s blown.
“How did you find out?” Lucy asks.
“When he called me into the office to meet me.”
“Oh Lord.” Lucy covers her mouth.
I share the details of what’s happened since yesterday morning, and by the time I’m finished I’m breathless and thirsty.
Lucy pours us each a drink.
I gulp most of mine down in one long swallow. “God, I needed that.”
“Here, have some more,” she says, filling my cup. “What are you going to do about Trey?”
“I don’t know. We don’t really have a choice but to keep things purely professional.”
“Pfft, good luck with that. I’ve seen that man and he’s hot as the sun,” Sheryl says.
“Right? How am I going to stay strong when I’m up against all his…” I struggle to find an adequate word.
“Daddiness,” Sheryl inserts.
Lucy laughs. “That’s hilarious, but it’s true. Now that I know James is Trey, I remember what he looks like. I met him and his dad at a fundraiser I went to with Niall.”
“I wish I’d shown you his picture. You could’ve stopped me from getting involved with him.”
“Yeah, but then you wouldn’t know how amazing it felt to be with him,” Lucy points out.
“True, but I’d have saved myself some heartache.”
“You really like him, huh?” Sheryl asks.
I nod slowly. “I do.” I drink some more margarita, hoping it’ll numb the ache in my chest.
“Is there a reason why you can’t be together?” Lucy asks.
“I don’t know if there’s a rule that states we can’t be or if it’s just that ethically it’s the wrong thing to do. I didn’t pay attention when I signed my paperwork when I got hired. I wanted a job so badly, I would’ve signed my life away.” I take another sip. “I can’t very well contact human resources and ask them what their stance is on me fucking my boss.”
Sheryl and Lucy laugh, but I can’t. There’s nothing remotely funny about this situation.
“I think you need a game plan for how you’re going to handle seeing him every day,” Lucy says.
“Okay, do you have any ideas?” I ask.
Lucy holds up her thumb. “One. Try to keep at least four feet of distance between the two of you at all times.” She raises her index finger. “Two. Avoid looking at him whenever possible.”
“I’ve got number three,” Sheryl says, holding up her middle finger. “Keep your meetings with him as short as possible.”
Lucy’s ring finger raises. “Four. Only talk about work-related topics.”
“Five.” Sheryl adds her pinky. “Don’t wear sexy clothes.”
My nose wrinkles. “I never do.”
“Okay, let me clarify that. Don’t wear dresses or skirts. Or fitted pants. Your legs look too sexy. I’m a heterosexual woman and even I’ve noticed how long they are.”
“Jesus, Sheryl. What am I supposed to wear?”
“Baggy clothing. We can go shopping after work tomorrow,” she says.
“I don’t have the money for a new wardrobe, and I don’t think I should have to change what I wear. Maybe he should be the one to buy new clothes. Then I wouldn’t have to look at his muscular ass or how his dress shirts hug his torso.”
“I think you should suggest it to him,” Sheryl says. “Men never get criticized for how they dress; it’s always the women’s fault. Our skirts are too short, our shirts are too low cut.”
“I don’t know about mentioning this to Trey. I think number five can be used as a last resort. Try the other four options out first,” Lucy says, doing her best to be the voice of reason.
Usually, I don’t need someone else to be that for me, but these margaritas are strong, and I’m currently on my third one.
“Okay,” I agree.
“Do you mind if I call Niall?” Lucy asks. “I told him we’d talk when I got home and I still haven’t contacted him.”
“Go for it. Where is he anyway?”
“Out with the guys,” Lucy says.
“I’d like to be out with all the guys he hangs out with,” Sheryl says.
I laugh. “Let’s get comfortable. Grab the pitcher,” I say as I head to the living room.
“Got it,” Sheryl calls out.
The two of us get situated on the couch with the margaritas on the coffee table in front of us.
Lucy enters the room and turns on the TV.
“Wow, that was a quick call,” I say.
She smiles. “He and the guys are busy watching a replay of the final championship game.” She changes the channel. “Here it is.”
“Oooh, yeah, hockey players,” Sheryl says, shimmying her shoulders. She pokes my arm. “You need to introduce me to one of those fine-ass men.”
“Ha. I barely know them. Niall doesn’t want them anywhere near me. Little does he know his team’s owner has been all over this body.”
“And inside it,” Sheryl adds, the two of us erupting in laughter.
Lucy’s focused on the TV and doing her best to ignore us. “Get him,” she shouts just before Niall slams a player on the opposing team into the boards. “Yes!” She pumps her fist.
“Lucy, you do realize this game was weeks ago, right?” I ask.
And I thought I was the buzzed one.
She laughs, placing her hand on her chest. “Yeah, I know. I just got caught up in the emotion all over again.”
“That’s so cute. I want to be in love too. Which players are single?” Sheryl asks.
“Most of them are in relationships,” Lucy says, never taking her eyes off the screen. She clasps her hands in front of her. “Get the puck out of there,” she shouts as Niall battles another player for it. He gets the puck loose and passes it off to Kaiden.
Lucy is an example of what love does to people. It makes them lose their minds. Raising my glass, I swallow a large mouthful, appreciating the burning sensation on the way down.
Lucy jumps to her feet and shouts, “Score!”
“Dammit, I missed it,” I droll.
Sheryl leaves while the replay’s still going, but Lucy and I continue watching until the end. Well, Lucy does. My eyeballs may have been aimed at the TV, but my thoughts were occupied with Trey.
Lucy shuts the TV off once they show the final score and ensuing celebration as the Coyotes come out on top by two goals, which gave them back-to-back championship wins.
I’m so proud of Niall. After all he went through on his last team, for him to come here and have so much success is amazing.
When Lucy’s ready to head home, I wrap my arms around the large pitcher and won’t relinquish my hold. She rolls her eyes, and before she walks out the door, she tells me I’m going to regret it in the morning. I probably will, but I’ll take a headache over a heartache anyday.
As it turns out, there are only two drinks left in the pitcher. I drink them both down too quickly while sitting on my bed. When I’m finished, I place the empty glass on my nightstand and flop back onto my pillows. When I close my eyes, it feels like the mattress is wildly spinning. “Whee.” I laugh. I like this. It’s like a private amusement ride in my bedroom. I’m not drunk, but I’m definitely not sober either.
Okay, maybe I’m drunker than I thought.
After a few more minutes of my world spinning, I’m feeling slightly nauseous, and the novelty of the effects of the alcohol have worn off.
“Fucking James—Trey—whoever you are. All your fault,” I grumble, picking up my phone. Time to tell His Daddiness where he can go. I type out a text and send it off.
You need new clothes.
What’s wrong with my clothes?
When I read his reply, I realize I never changed his name in my phone. I take care of that before I reply.
They fit you too well.
That’s a bad thing?
My eyes squint as I tap the screen.
It is for me. Your pants show off your ass and your shirts show off your arms and flat stomach. For fuck’s sake, buy some looser clothes.
Have you been drinking?
Yep, but not enough.
I’d say you’ve had plenty. We can talk about my clothes tomorrow. Go to sleep, Sunshine.
I am. But not because you said so.
I hold my middle finger to my phone, as if he can see it, before I drop the cell on the nightstand. My heavy eyelids fall closed, and the last thing I see in my mind before sleep takes me is Trey’s smiling face.
* * *
When I enter Trey’s office, he says, “Close the door.”
Pushing it shut, I walk toward his desk while he smirks at me. “What?” I ask, but I’m pretty sure I know what he’s going to say.
“Someone had a little too much to drink last night.”
Yep. I knew it.
“Yeah, I did.” I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. “Can we not discuss that?”
He chuckles. “I think I want to talk about it, though. You drunk texted me.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. It was completely inappropriate.”
“I rather enjoyed it, myself. Drunk Maeve is funny.” He grins and I scowl.
“Don’t get too attached, because she won’t be making another appearance.”
“That’s too bad.”
I clasp my hands together in front of me. “It’s for the best. People make bad choices when they drink. I certainly did.”
“That’s why I prefer weed. It doesn’t have that effect. You just sit there and chill out.”
“I’ll take your word for it. Can we get down to business now?” It’s been approximately twelve hours since my friends helped me devise the five ways to make this situation easier, and I’m already forgetting about numbers two and four.
I haven’t taken my eyes off him since I walked through the door, and we’ve yet to talk about work stuff. I suck at this.
“Sure. I called you in because I’m trying to print out quarterly reports for the players’ expenses and operational expenses, and I can’t figure out what I’m doing wrong.”
“I can help you with that. Let me sit down in your chair, and I’ll show you what to do.”
Standing, he moves aside so I can slide in behind his desk. “So you need to select ‘Reports’ from the menu.” He leans in, watching.
There goes rule number one.
“Then you’ll search for the one you want to print.” I move the cursor. “See, it’s right here.”
He leans even closer. “You smell wonderful.”
I pretend as though I didn’t hear him. “Then you click on where it says Run Report. To print it out, you click on the printer icon,” I say, demonstrating. The machine comes to life. He rests his hands on my shoulders, massaging my tight muscles as the pages stack up in the tray.
“That seems easy enough, but while I have you here, can you print out one for advertising expenses too, please?”
“Sure.” I don’t want to agree. I want to get away from him as quickly as possible. He smells amazing, and his magical hands are working the knots from my trapezius muscle. It feels divine.
I walk him through the steps once more, finding the report and showing him how to print it out. Before I escape from his chair, he winds a strand of my hair around his index finger, then lets it slide free. “Your hair is so soft.”
Pushing my feet against the floor, I shove the chair back, bumping into him, and jump from the seat. “If that’s all you need, I’ll head back to my desk. I’ve got work to do.”
“Thank you for your help, Maeve.”
“You’re welcome. Just doing my job.” My hand fumbles with the knob as I open the door. I step into the hallway and see Sheryl down at the other end. She points to the break room, and I hurry toward her. The two of us scamper inside, and, thankfully, we’re the only ones here.
“How’s it going?” she asks.
“Badly. I couldn’t follow the five rules. He invaded my space while I was printing out reports. It was all I could do to focus on the task at hand.”
“You’ve got it bad, girl.”
I rub my aching forehead. “Tell me about it. I’m so screwed.”
She snorts. “Not yet, but soon you will be. Right on Daddy’s desk.”
“Oh God, don’t say that.” My cheeks heat as I picture him bending me over the wooden surface.
She knowingly nods. “It’s inevitable. The only question is how long will it take for the two of you to reach that point?”
Rule number six: Avoid going near his desk.