He's So Bad (11 page)

D
ingy daylight fills the room
. I scramble to sit up. I kick myself for not setting the alarm on my cell phone. My head is still a tad bit foggy from oversleeping when I scoot off the bed, retrieve my pants from the floor, and take my cell phone out of the pocket. “Hot damn.”

It’s ten thirty in the morning. I vaguely remember falling asleep with a serious hard-on. Carter had walked out of the shower wearing nothing but a towel. She tempted me, and I was victorious. Fucking her would be the wrong thing to do. I slap myself upside my thick head in hopes that that fact will seep through.

Now that my head is clear, I take a quick shower and put on fresh clothes. I keep it casual—jeans and a long-sleeved V-neck sweater. I plan to take Carter into town for brunch before heading out on our house-hunting trip, but not before I show her my Harley. One step into the hallway, and I’m struck by the aroma of breakfast. Then I remember Sylvia’s here this morning. Sometimes she cooks my meals. She’s always asking when I’m going to get a wife to take care of me. I usually joke and tell her that I’d rather give all of my money to her. She blushes, and that’s usually the end of it until the next time she comes in early and the house feels too still and lonely to her. I practically skip to the kitchen, glad she made breakfast.

“Carter?” I say, surprised to see her at the stove.

“Are you hungry?” Her tone is light and cheery.

“Where’s Sylvia?”

“Oh, the woman who was supposed to help me fold my clothes and put them away?”

I shrug.

“I told her she could go home. She was very happy that you had a woman in the house though.”

I lean on the frame that separates the kitchen from the dining room. “How long have you been up?

Carter flips a pancake. “Usually I wake up at six, but I slept so good last night that I woke up at eight!” She sounds pretty proud of that.

I’m happy she’s happy. “I just didn’t want you to live out of your suitcases and bags the entire weekend.”

“Pretty pathetic, huh?” She flips another pancake.

“It makes me want to punch Tyler in the throat, but I’ll settle for firing his arrogant ass.”

She almost panics. “No, you can’t do that, not because of me.”

“I’ve been looking for a reason. He’s a fucking prima donna, and he’s rude to my clients.”

“He’s rude to everybody. How do you like your eggs?”

I’m amused by her chirpy mood. I try to keep my eyes off of her tight tank top and her tight sweatpants that display the V of her pussy.

“Sunny-side up, and yes, I know he’s rude to everybody. I think that’s why Ralph fired his ass.”

“Maybe rudeness is the price of talent.”

I grunt. “No, it isn’t. You’re more talented than he is, and you have zero amount of ego. Why don’t you strut around like a peacock like the rest of them?”

She puts three pancakes on a plate and pours more batter. “You do eat three, don’t you?”

I shrug. “Sure.”

“And I’m not a peacock because I don’t need to be in order to feel good about myself. Underneath all the feathers are insecure people.”

I grunt thoughtfully. She nailed it. I was a peacock for so many years, hiding my shitty abandonment issues and insecurity under a gang of feathers. “All right, I won’t fire him yet, but if he’s rude to another one my clients or employees, then his ass is out.”

She grins and cracks an egg into the skillet. “Did I already say that this is a beautiful house?”

I like the way she changed the subject. “I’ve done some work on it in the last three months.”

She sighs gravely. “Sorry about that. Avoidance. I’m very good at it.”

I grin. “It’s fine.”

“I know that Tyler can be a certified jerk, but he is an exceptional architect.”

“And so are you.”

“But isn’t it always good to have more than one exceptional architect? You never know when one of us will have to leave.”

I flinch. “Are you going somewhere?”

She turns her back to me to flip the pancakes. “I know Grace wants me gone.”

“Grace? I fired her.”

“But I heard that she wants to come back. She’ll never stop trying to get you to re-hire her.”

I think about the email she sent me. “Don’t worry about it, Carter. She can’t do anything to you.”

Her smile says how appreciative she is that I’m willing to protect her from the crazy shit that went on at Kennedy Creative before I took over.

I wink at her and roll up my sleeves. “What can I do to help?”

“You can make coffee,” she says.

I walk to the cupboard where I keep the coffee. “Making coffee.”

We finish preparing breakfast, and soon we’re in the dining room. I’m sitting in front of two eggs sunny-side up, a stack of three pancakes, three strips of bacon, coffee, and orange juice. Carter has made two pancakes, scrambled eggs, and two strips of bacon. I reveal to her that I have a Harley in the garage and ask if she wants to take it out today.

“Who’s going to drive, you or me?” she asks.

“Um, me.”

“We should flip a coin,” she says.

We grin at each other.

“No need. You can drive. I’ll ride bitch.”

She laughs. “There’s no way Robert Tango can ever ride bitch. For you, we’ll call it riding stud.”

I toss my head back and bellow. “All right, I’ll ride stud.”

We finish breakfast. I clean the kitchen as Carter goes to her bedroom to get appropriately dressed for a motorcycle ride. I avoid admiring her ass as she goes. I put the dishes and pans in the dishwasher and wipe down the counters and stove. By the time I hang the damp dishtowel on the rack, Carter’s back in the kitchen. Her sexiness is effortless. I find myself yet again avoiding the desire to salivate over her hips, ass, and long legs in those tight jeans.

“You look good,” I say, keeping my eyes on her face.

She winks. “So do you.”

I grin. She’s been flirting with me ever since last night, and it’s working. “Ready for the tour?”

Again, she looks at me with smoldering eyes. “I’m ready when you are.”

I ignore the desire to pull her against my chest and make out with her. Instead, I take her to the backyard garden. The trimmed shrubs and cobblestone pathways impress her. Carter sits on one of the iron benches, and I sit beside her.

She’s soaking in the ambiance. “Do you plan to keep living here on the weekends?”

“Sure, why not? I’ve been cooped up in LA and New York for so long that I forgot how it felt to have space.”

“Do you know exactly which San Francisco neighborhood you want to live in?”

I smirk. “Since you know me so well, can you guess?”

She shows me that seductive look again. “San Francisco is loaded with Victorians, Edwardians, and Tudors of every size, shape, and style. I don’t see you living in one of those.”

“Me neither.”

She narrows an eye. “Hmm… Twin Peaks West?”

I’m taken aback. “Get the hell out of here.”

“No?”

“No, it’s yes!”

“You’re interested in the mid-century Moderns?”

“Damn skippy. I’m partial to the Eichler homes.”

Carter nods as she ponders. “Three are for sale at the moment. One of them is half-renovated. The owner ran out of money, but the price is still too high. It’s been on the market the longest and has the best views. After you see it, you’ll want it.”

“You sound sure of yourself,” I say.

She pats my thigh. “That’s because I am sure of myself.”

“All right then. Let’s get on the bike and go.”

Carter hops to her feet. “The suspense is killing me.”

I lead her to the garage, which sits on the outer edge of the garden. I open the barn doors, and Carter walks in. She observes the tools that hang neatly on the wall, my masonry workbench with an electric saw that I use mainly to cut wood for the fireplace, then she looks at the shiny concrete floor.

“Wow, it’s clean in here.”

I walk to my bike. “There’s no use in keeping it dirty.”

“You’re so meticulous. From the way you have your shampoo and soap placed in the shower, to the way you have items placed in the refrigerator and cabinets, and now this.”

I watch her with a weak smile. I’ve never given my habits any thought. But now that I think about it, my ex-wife, Lena, used to give me shit about being too orderly. She said my space was the only thing I could control while I let the rest of my life fall to pieces, including our six-year marriage. Lena Chance… I took things too far when I married her. I was jealous of the natural chemistry between her and Vince. I wanted his shiny object. Suddenly, I realize that I have a lot to ask Vince to forgive me for. He and his family took me in when my mother exposed me to drunk, abusive assholes. My days turned dark after my dad died, but if it weren’t for the Adams, then my days would’ve been darker.

Carter snaps her fingers. “Robert?”

I bring myself back into the moment. “Sorry about that.”

“There’s no need to apologize.”

I pull the cover off my motorcycle. “Ta da!”

Carter’s eyes shine.

“I see you approve,” I say.

She straddles the seat and arches her back seductively. “I more than approve.”

Down, boy
, I say to my dick. I take a deep breath to steady my desires. “Then let’s get on the road before it rains.”

She scoots to the back seat. “And, Robert, there’s no way I’m going to waste the opportunity to be your bitch.”

I laugh, but I want to lift her off that seat, lay her down on the concrete, and peel her out of her skin-tight pants. Instead, I take my riding jacket and boots out of one of the closets. They’re not dusty even though I haven’t worn them in years. I take two helmets out of the closet, one that fits my head and a smaller one for Carter.

I start the engine, and it’s shaky. I rev it up and let it get warm. Once the motorcycle finds that sweet-sounding purr, I take off but not too fast. It would kill me if I crashed and something happened to Carter.

There’s a fair share of wind but not enough to make me worry. Carter holds me tightly as I take the road out of Napa. The fields are painted green, and the mountain edges are rocky. Blessed by nature, California is a sight for sore eyes. The insects slamming against my window are the reason I stopped riding so much. Carter rests her head on my back. The way she’s holding me makes me think that she feels safe.

This could be a romantic motorcycle ride all the way to the city, but by the time we turn onto the interstate, it’s raining like hell and visibility is non-existent. The next exit is coming up on my right. Carter and I seem to have the same thought because she squeezes my shoulders twice, and I make the turn off the freeway. I pull into the parking lot of a fast-food restaurant and park the bike under a tree.

I take off my helmet, and Carter takes off hers. We look at each other and chuckle.

She gazes up at the sky. “I knew this would happen.”

I look up. The sky is gray and hangs low. “So did I. I guess taking the bike was wishful thinking. We can still head into the city; I’ll just have to drive the car.” The rain pounds the ground. “And we have to wait until this dies down.”

Carter gets off the motorcycle. “No, we don’t. Let me drive.” She’s positioned to take the driver’s seat.

I hesitate. “I don’t know, it’s coming down pretty hard.”

“You know how to run a multi-million-dollar business, and I know how to ride a motorcycle.” She grins.

And so I relinquish the driver’s seat and ride bitch.

W
hen it came to motorcycles
, Carter knew she was the better driver. She could’ve gotten them safely to San Francisco in the rain, but they would’ve been drenched by the time they arrived. The only reason she rolled the dice on the weather was because she wanted to finally wrap her arms around Robert’s strong frame. She was sort of happy to be returning to his Napa house. Hopefully Robert would change his mind about house hunting and they could spend the day getting to know each other better. She was hoping by nightfall, they would be sharing a bed.

Her driving was smoother than Robert’s, and he seemed okay with letting her take over. Tyler used to hate it when she asserted herself. Carter could’ve driven faster but didn’t want to show off. For the first time ever, she was willing to become whatever it took to be the sole object of Robert Tango’s obsession. His chest felt like heaven against her back. If only she could seep into his body. For a moment, she thought he had massaged her belly, and his touch tickled her clit. She prayed that Robert would make a move on her, but when she made it back to his house, pulled into the garage, and parked, they took off their helmets and he scurried off to get the car. She waited in the garage and out of the rain.

Carter looked at her watch. Two minutes had passed. She wondered what was taking him so long. Her cell phone rang, and the name Tyler Asshole lit the screen. She contemplated canceling the call, but she answered it anyway.

“What?” she snapped.

She heard him sigh. “I don’t want to fight, Carter.”

“I just asked what do you want.”

“I want to know how you’re doing.”

She laughed bitterly. “Are you kidding me? You made my landlord throw me out of my apartment, you asshole!”

“What! No, I didn’t,” he said.

Carter frowned. He sounded pretty adamant about it. “Johnny said your name was on the lease and you paid to break it early as of December 15
^th
.”

Tyler fell silent.

“Just forget it. I don’t want to talk to you…”

“Carter, I didn’t do that. I would never do that to you.”

“Who else could’ve done it?”

A face came to mind. Once again, Tyler fell silent. Carter knew they both were thinking of the same person.

Carter released the tension in her body and sat on a work stool. “Who, Tyler?” She wanted to hear him say it.

“I’ll look into it. I’m so sorry, babe.”

“I’m not your babe.”

“Where are you?”

She looked around the garage. “Somewhere safe.”

“Are you with Matt?”

“No, and why do you care?”

“Why didn’t you say anything to me? I supposedly had you tossed out of your home, and you didn’t call? Is that what you think of me?”