Bossy (43 page)

“You think you’re the first one to try it? You know what? It’s my own fucking fault. I didn’t even ask. You screwed up though, talking where I could hear you. Would’ve been safer to wait a few days. Could’ve had that many more chances to hit the jackpot. Wouldn’t that have been fun?” I need to get the fuck out of here. I feel like such an idiot.

“Gavin!” She’s crawling over the bed, looking drop dead sexy. “You’re acting crazy. It was a mistake! We were drunk. I didn’t even think about it, which was dumb, yeah, but we were both stupid. I was just nervous and joking with Cassie.”

It would be easy to believe her. I’ve gotta get out of here before I head back in and fuck her again. Tears run down her face, but I’m not fucking falling for it. Not again. Pulling on my pants, I ignore her. A shirt, a pair of shoes, and I’m gone. This is exactly the kind of shit I was afraid of, and I should’ve fucking known better. Nobody is too cute, or too innocent when money’s involved.

“I need some space. Do me a favor and stay out of my way. I’ll do the right thing if I have to, but enjoy this honeymoon, because we’re not having another one.” I’m fucking growling, I’m so pissed.

My hangover is back, a painful spike hammering through my skull. Even as I tear open the door to the hallway, leaving Angie behind naked on the bed, all that flashes in my brain are memories from last night. Of her under me. On top of me. Of me fucking her deep and making her mine.

Fuck. I need a drink.

T
he door slams behind him, and I sag back on the bed, stunned.

What just happened? Irritation, panic, a joke about knocking me up on my wedding night. All of those I could have understood, but not that. He exploded. There’s no other word for it. Does he really think I could do something like that? I knew when he made the comment about my mother’s motivation that it was something he worried about, but me?

That’s tinfoil hat level paranoia.

I can’t take back last night, even if I wanted to. Even now, I don’t know that I do. Last night was incredible. I’d never thought anyone would be able to make me feel like that. I didn’t know it was possible to feel like that, but he made my first time magical. There’s no way he didn’t feel it too.

Shit.

I need someone to talk to. Joyce? I guess, if I wanted to hear about how the same thing happened with her second husband who was amazing with his toes. Pass. I blow my hair out of my eyes in frustration. Yes, that’d be great. How would I even start? “Hi there, inappropriate old lady, let me tell you about how I fucked my stepbrother and how awesome it was until he flew off the hook.” I’m sure she’d love it.

I guess Cassie would be the obvious choice. Picking up the phone from my nightstand, I scroll until I find her name and tap the call button. It rings a bunch of times and I almost give up, but then I hear her familiar voice. “Angie! Are you alright?” She’s concerned. I cut her off pretty suddenly before the argument.

I sigh. “Yeah. Or at least I will be.” I think.

“Whoa, what happened? I heard Gavin in the background before you hung up, and he sounded really pissed.”

I want to cry again, and it pisses me off that he can make me feel that way. “Yeah, you could say that. He overheard us talking, and now he’s convinced that I tried to get him to knock me up. Like I’m some gold digging slut. What the hell is up with that?” For once, Cassie’s quiet. Like dead quiet, so long that I think I’ve lost my connection, except that I can hear her breathe. “Cassie? Are you there?”

“Yeah. Just not sure what to say. What a prick.”

“Well, I mean, I guess what we said sounded bad, but—”

“Seriously? Making excuses for him?”

“No, I’m not. It’s just—”

“Angie. Listen to yourself. You don’t actually want him, do you?”

“No!” I say it way too quickly, too defensively, and she hears it. “But I might be pregnant. With him.”

“I know it’s scary, trust me, but Angie? We had our periods together like last week.”

“Yeah, but—”

“But nothing. Chances are super slim. You’re going to be fine.”

“I suppose, but—”

“Even with the worst timing, once isn’t very likely.”

“Um...” I’m only on the phone. I shouldn’t be this embarrassed.

“So, not just once then. I knew it! He was good, wasn’t he? How many times?”

She giggles, which annoys me. I sigh. “Cassie, priorities!”

“I’m sorry.” She laughs. “Excuse me for wanting to dish with my first married friend. He’s really getting to you, isn’t he?”

“I’m not really married.” Probably. Just the thought scares me a little. “He’s an asshole, it’s just—”

“You like him.” Her teasing tone gets on my nerves. Maybe I shouldn’t have called her after all. “You’re in love with your totally hot asshole stepbrother, and now that he’s mad at you, you don’t want to admit it.”

“He’s inappropriate, crude, bossy, vulgar and a big freaking bully. You heard what he did to Paul.” Anger is good. Anger means I’m not scared or hurt.

“And still you want him back so bad it hurts.”

“Yeah. Wait, no! Stop putting words in my mouth.” I should’ve gone looking for Joyce.

All Cassie does is laugh. “Alright, so tell me this, then. Why are you so upset right now? You got your nasty stepbro sex, and now he’s pissed and out of your hair. Isn’t that like having your cake and eating it too? Or maybe he was
that
good at eating
your
cake—”

“Cassie!”

She’s trying to stifle her laughter. I can hear it. “Seriously. Why do you care, Angie? If you can answer that, maybe you can figure out what you need to do.”

“I—”

“Yeah, I thought so. Think about it. Oh, and speaking of thinking about it, I just remembered that I
may
have given away that you’re not here to your mom.” She sounds mildly apologetic at that at least. “Sorry, I just didn’t think about it, and you never actually asked me to cover for you...”

“Yeah, yeah.” I sigh. I seem to do that a lot lately. “She was bound to figure it out eventually anyway. I’ll worry about that when I talk to her next time.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“About Mom?”

“No, silly. About your sexy-ass stepbrother with the big chest, sexy tattoos and the tight ass. That guy you married.” She’s laughing again.

“What can I do? He made it pretty clear that he doesn’t want to see me. Maybe I’ll just spend the day catching rays while I pretend that he never existed.” Chances of that happening are just slightly higher than pigs flying.

“If you were me I might almost believe that.” For a moment she’s actually serious. “I know you Angie. You’re not going to be able to let this go. When you first sink your teeth into something, you’re like a freaking bulldog.”

“Are you calling me a bitch?” I snort. “He doesn’t want to see me, fine. I’ll avoid him for a couple of days. I can do that.”

She makes a frustrated sound. “Listen to me. It’s like college, right? Once you decided you wanted to go to med school, everyone told you how hard it was, how difficult it was to get in. About how you’d have to do all these internships that don’t pay, that you wouldn’t have a social life, and on and on and on. Do you remember how no one believed you could do it?”

I remember. Even Mom was skeptical, and she’s always been all about me finding my own way. “You believed I could.”

“Yeah, because I know you.” She sounds like she’s explaining things to a small kid. “You weren’t giving up. It was always on your mind, even when you pretended it wasn’t, and now you’ve been admitted. You’re going to do it.”

“Okay, but I don’t see what that has to do with my asshole stepbrother.” As soon as I mention him, flashes of his naked body standing in the shower with the water running over his perfect chest rush through my mind. Why does the guy I hate most have to be the one that can make me weak with just a thought?

“You sound exactly the same when you talk about him as you did when you were talking about med school. You’re stuck on him. I’m sure you’ll try to waste the day working on your tan, but you’ll be spending all that time figuring out how to get him back into bed.”

“Cassie!” It’s a fake outrage, because I know she’s right.

“It’s true.”

“He hurt me, Cass...” That’s it. That’s the worst part. That I’d finally opened myself up to him, completely, and the first time something came up, he turned it around and stabbed me in the heart with it.

“I know, hun,” she whispers softly. “And if you talk to him, and he’s still an asshole, I’ll be here to help turn his balls into jerky, promise. But go talk to him. You’re never going to be able to let it go until you do.”

“I wish you were here.”

“Me too. My tan is complete crap!” Her voice is back to teasing. “Go find him. Talk. Be the bulldog, not the bitch.”

“I don’t even know how to take that.”

“You’re worth a hundred pretty rich boys, Angie. I have to go, but I want a full report, alright? And if you guys aren’t fucking on the regular by the time you get home, I’ll eat my hat.”

“Do you even own a hat?”

“I’ll buy one. Later, sweetie. You’re going to be okay.”

“Later, Cassie.” The line goes dead. Throwing myself backwards, I sprawl on the bed, my arms stretched wide while I stare straight up. My eyes follow the blades of the ceiling fan as they spin just quickly enough that it’s difficult to keep up. Just like this trip. It’s like I’m only barely hanging on, and I don’t know if I can keep it up or if I’m getting spun right off.

A gust of wind blows in through the open door to the balcony, making me shiver. There’s a bank of clouds on the horizon moving quickly towards us and the breeze is noticeably cooler than it was even before the phone call. Soaking up sun isn’t even going to be an option today, is it?

Great.

I guess I’ll be looking for my husband, then.

“A
nother.” I raise my finger to get the bartender’s attention. He’s tall and lanky, wearing a white button-down shirt with those straps around the upper arms like the card dealers wear at casinos. After the bomb Angie dropped on me this morning, the idea of gambling kinda pisses me off.

He gives me a disapproving look down his long nose. “Are you sure? It’s not even one o’clock. A little early to get in a party mood, isn’t it?” He tries to put a friendly spin on it, but he’s judging me. I can hear it. “Newlywed life that bad?” The bar’s pretty empty at this hour, but the few people around to hear him, chuckle.

“I asked for a drink, not your opinion. Another.”

The look he gives me is a mix of curiosity and disgust, but I don’t give a fuck, and when he slides the scotch my way I take it with a nod, then ignore him.

I feel like an asshole. The pleading look on Angie’s face when I left her is burned into my brain. Fine, so I suck at anger management. What am I supposed to do now? Crawl back and beg forgiveness?

A man’s got his pride. Not that I’m so damn proud of myself right now. The doubts creeping into the back of my mind don’t help either. Maybe I went over the top? Projecting Dad’s paranoia? Fuck if I know.

Sliding my fingers along the edge of the bar, I play with the texture, feeling the bumps and nicks in the stained wood. Just distracting my fingers while my mind tries to work. I’m rationalizing, just because I was too drunk and lovesick to remember to wrap my pecker. Fuck.

Angie’s not the first girl I’ve fucked and dumped. She’s not the first to try and trap me with pregnancy shit either. I didn’t make it out of fucking high school before our lawyers had to handle my first paternity test. Negative. Which she already knew, but that didn’t stop her from trying.

And then there’re the creeps with investment opportunities too good to pass up, so long as I act now. Just a few million, and we’ll never have to work another day in our lives, they say like that’s not my life already.

So I say sit back and use the users. If they want to fuck me, I’ll give ‘em a ride. If they want to wine and dine me, I’ll gladly oblige. Just don’t expect me to call in the morning. Not once have I felt bad about it. Until today.

Waking up next to Angie was different. The sun played over her naked body, golden light warming the hints of skin peeking out of the sheets like a naughty promise. Different? Fuck, it was awesome. So why does she have to just be like all the others?
Is she?
asks a distant voice in the back of my head.

Tipping back my glass, I drain it. Hair of the dog. Just what I needed to burn off what was left of my hangover. It’s exactly what I need, because while I’m trying to let go of her, something in the back of my head isn’t letting me, and the scotch helps me pretend not to care.

I try to drain my glass again, but nothing’s coming out. Right. Already did that. “Another.” The bartender shakes his head again and I get ready to bitch him out when the world rocks. For a second I don’t get what happened. Buzzed? Abso-fucking-lutely. World rocking drunk? Not even close. It’s not until I see the bartender securing the glass racks and putting bottles away that I realize it’s the ship rocking and not me.

Through the window I see thick clouds rolling towards us, not quite obscuring the sun, but soon. Looks like crappy weather’s coming our way. Awesome. Suits my mood better anyway. I was getting a bit sick of all the happy people hanging out in their designer swimwear, lounging around happily on the sundecks talking in happy voices about how awesome everything fucking is. Because it’s not.

“Gavin.”

I don’t turn to face the voice. Of course I recognize it. She sounds angry, disappointed and sad, all at the same time. How the hell am I supposed to respond to that? I’ve got enough going on in my own head, thanks.

When I don’t answer, Angie slides onto the stool next to me. Having her near me drives me crazy, muscle memory remembering last night and eager to go again. She’s wearing a flowery sundress that’s sheer enough that in the right light, I bet I could see everything.

I want to tear it off to see if she’s wearing anything underneath. Common sense says she is, but my imagination is convinced she isn’t, filling my mind with images of fucking her right on top of the bar, in front of everyone. Hell, why shouldn’t I? The damage is already done.