Chapter 11
THE CERTAIN SOMEONE
Ivy
I read the last message from Hayes just as I shut the door to my apartment with my pooch, post-walk.
Stefan is with him. Why does that make my pulse race and my nerves skitter?
Because he’s sexy, too, and I don’t know what to do about that.
But I also work with them, so I really shouldn’t think about either of them like that, neither a lot nor a little.
I definitely shouldn’t think about Stefan’s admission as Number18—that timing is everything.
That he’ll try again. I don’t even know for certain he was trying to get to know me the other day. That’s a lot to think about. To accept.
I’ll just help with the kale, then leave. With that decided and Roxy’s leash still in my hand, I spin back around and open the door again.
“Wait.”
Jackson’s deep voice booms across the living room. He’s striding through the apartment in his gym clothes, looking far too pretty to work out. But he always looks good. “Where are you going with that Imma ’bout to get some look on your face?”
I do my best to erase any pre-sex face, since we’re not, not, not having sex. Not Hayes and I, not Stefan and I, not the three…
Nope. I won’t let myself go there even in my thoughts.
“What look?” It comes out innocent. At least, I hope it does.
When Jackson reaches me, he draws an air circle around my face. “I can read you like that.”
“So you’re a face reader?”
“Yes, ma’am. And yours says I’m getting some dick.”
“Please. I’m going to see a guy at his place with a friend.”
Jackson’s eyebrows climb so high. “Let me amend that. Your face says I’m getting some…dicks,” he says, dragging out the plural.
“No, that’s not happening.” My traitorous pulse rockets.
“But it could be happening. Why have one dick when you can have two, as I like to say.”
I hold up a stop-sign hand. The more he talks about two dicks, the more flustered I’ll get hanging out with two guys.
“I’m not looking for one dick, let alone two,” I sputter, feeling caught.
I know I should stay away from Hayes. And Stefan.
For a long list of reasons, starting with—I find both of them attractive, and that’s confusing to me.
Jackson wiggles his fingers at my phone. “Who’s the man attached to the dick? Or the men, I should say?”
“Since men are attached to their dicks, more than the other way around?”
“I like to think of the man-dick attachment as a package deal. Now, let me see.”
I huff then relent. “I’m going to see Hayes,” I begin. Easier to focus on one guy right now. The thought of a pair is throwing me into a lopsided spin cycle.
Jackson’s dark eyes twinkle. “Are you going to water his eggplant with your tongue?”
“No.”
“Any reason you’re not? Aside from the fact he has company, that is.”
“I work with him,” I say, insistent. “And he lives in the building. That would be doubly messy.”
“Other things would be too.”
I groan. “Stop.”
But also, I don’t choose well. What if I dated Hayes and he turned around and slept with my new boss? What if he subtly put me down and I barely realized it was happening? What if he dismissed my dreams? “Honestly, just not ready,” I say, which is the truth too.
Jackson nods thoughtfully, giving up his playful pushing. “I hear you, hun.”
“I mean, it’s not even that I’m covering Xander’s stupid wedding. It’s just…I can’t imagine anything going well with anyone right now. I’m not sure I know how to pick a good man.” My heart’s too tender, and my ego’s too bruised.
“I get it,” Jackson says gently, then rubs my arm with affection. When he lets go, his brown eyes twinkle again. “But you don’t have to get your heart involved, if you know what I mean.”
I slug his arm. “You enabler.”
“Just think of me as your libido’s wingman.”
“I think of you as the devil.”
“Same thing,” he says, while Roxy yawns loudly from the floor, interjecting herself into the convo. Jackson waves at the little lady. “See? Your dog agrees with me. She thinks you should get some.”
“No, she does not. She’s coming along to protect my virtue,” I insist, like she’s proof of my innocent intentions.
Jackson tuts. “Your five-pound senior dog’s not the cockblocker you think she is.”
Fine.
Maybe I am using Roxy as a shield. If I have the dog to focus on, I won’t be able to throw myself at Hayes.
Or Stefan.
But mostly Hayes, right? I’m mostly attracted to him. Which means I’ll need to resist his charms more when I head upstairs. I’ll activate a Hayes shield.
Jackson and I take off. He heads downstairs and my dog and I go up to the penthouse level. My stomach flips as the elevator rises, and I tell myself it’s from the change in altitude.
It’s not from the anticipation of the company.
A minute later, I head down the hall and rap on the door. “Garden patrol, at your service,” I call out.
See? I can be friends with Hayes. And Stefan too. In fact, it’s just good sense. I work with both of them. I should be friendly with them too.
When the door opens, Hayes is there, sporting a cocky grin and those damn gym shorts again—the ones I’ve seen him take off.
They’re blue and hang low on his hips, reminding me how easy they’d be to just. Push.
Down. A gray T-shirt snuggles his pecs, his biceps, and his abs, and it’s the luckiest piece of fabric ever.
His smile is pure sex. He looks at me like he’s undressing me.
His stubble is a little thicker now too. Almost scruff levels.
Yes, he’s the one I’m most attracted to. That makes sense. We’re well past the are we into each other phase—we crossed that somewhere between here’s my eggplant o’clock and check out my shower towel.
We’ve acknowledged, too, that we’re sticking to being neighborly. Stefan? He’s just a handsome guy I’ve known casually for years. He’ll be easier to resist.
When my gaze travels to him, he’s in the kitchen, leaning casually against the counter, hair mussed up, lips quirked in a grin. He’s got a smattering of stubble, and his jawline is chiseled but imperfect thanks to a scar on his chin. A perfect imperfection I’d like to touch.
But there’s no shirt in sight.
The man can wear the hell out of a Henley, and, I’m learning, out of nothing.
His muscles glisten. A smattering of golden-brown chest hair covers his broad pecs.
He doesn’t have any tattoos, but there are scratches on his shoulders and a few bruises on his arms. His abs are out of this world. Long, carved, tight.
His running shorts hug his hips, and I try to look away. I swear I do. But it’s one thing to think a guy with a fiancée is handsome. It’s entirely another to find a single man thoroughly fuckable.
But I can’t think that. Nope. I can’t. And I won’t.
Best to deny this lust blooming inside me. “Hi. I’m here to help,” I say.
Roxy’s bushy tail goes wild, faster than a metronome set to its highest tempo.
Hayes kneels in front of my cinnamon pup with her whitening muzzle. “Hey, girl,” he says and offers her a hand for sniffing. My mutt rubs her face against his palm, then the shameless hussy stretches her paws up onto his chest.
Not satisfied saying hi to one, she scampers to Stefan next, looking up at him, and barks her hello bark. Her look at me bark.
He must speak Dog, since he’s kneeling too, offering her a hand.
“Well, hello there,” Stefan says, and that only makes my girl waggle her butt more. “Who’s a good girl? You are.”
Dammit. My chest tingles at those words. Can he please say them to me?
Wait. Do I want Stefan to say that to me, or Hayes?
Hayes is the guy I’m resisting, right? Stefan is just a handsome afterthought.
But am I his certain someone? The one he mentioned in his comment on my post? There’s a certain someone I might run into today.
Has he been into me since before I showed up at work the other day?
I don’t even know what to think as Roxy taunts me, stretching against Stefan, getting a double pawful of his pecs before sliding her greedy mitts down his bare stomach.
“Sorry,” I say. “I hope she doesn’t scratch you.”
Stefan lifts his face, his eyes locking with mine. “I don’t mind a few scratches.” Heat flickers in his eyes, and I swallow roughly.
Hayes drags a hand through his thick, dark hair. “Yeah, nothing wrong with a scratch mark here or there,” he says in that sexy voice before he joins Stefan in the kitchen.
“Such a good girl,” Hayes says to Roxy, and yes. That sounds delicious too.
The double good girl.
My stomach flips, and my mind goes fuzzy. I can barely think straight as Hayes rewards the pup with more pets and chin rubs.
And she takes them all.
Hayes gestures to the bandana she’s sporting, black lined with chili peppers. “Fashion statement or a warning she’s spicy?”
Huh? Did he ask me something?
Oh, right. A dog question.
“Both,” I say. I try to clear my head and focus on my visit, not the view of two men lavishing praise on the little dog I rescued so she could have a home in her final years. So she could experience love. So she could be adored.
My stupid throat catches.
“Is that why you adopted her? Because she’s fiery?” Stefan asks.
It’s so seamless the way the guys trade off. And it’s good, too, that they’re asking about Roxy. Dog talk makes me emotional, but surely that’s safer than desire.
I head into the kitchen where Roxy is bounding back and forth between the two guys. Yes, better to focus on my shameless girl.
“She is fiery, but mostly I got her because I felt like she needed me. Trina told me about her,” I say, talking over this erratic beating of my heart, this quickening of my pulse.
“Trina is Ryker’s girlfriend, and also Chase Weston’s from the Sea Dogs,” I explain to Hayes, but he nods right away.
Maybe he’s heard about the throuple. “She volunteers at the shelter where I got Roxy from—Little Friends. But Roxy’s a Florida girl. ”