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  “I’m so not a creep, sweetheart. Unless of course that’s what you’re into.” He tries to recover with a not so subtle wink.

  “What I’m into is none of your business and if it weren’t for Willow telling me such wonderful things about her new boss, I’d pour your Bud all over your pretty long hair.”

  The two banter back and forth, caught up in their own world. It’s either the beginning of a train wreck or some kind of fucked up foreplay. Knowing Blaze, my money is on the latter. Either way, I leave them to their bickering and pat the seat next to me for Willow to join me.

  The gratuitous look in her hazel colored eyes tells me she’s happy for the distraction. “I can’t take her anywhere,” she says, getting comfortable in the stool.

  “I can stay the same thing about Blaze.” I laugh. “But I guess you already knew that.”

  “All too well, unfortunately. But ever since I let him down gently and set him straight that we would not be sleeping together . . . he’s really not that bad. Sloane will have to figure that out on her own, though.”

  I take a pull of my beer, fuming. I can’t believe that son of a bitch hit on her! If I recall correctly, Blaze was trying to set me up with her. Selfish bastard—always looking out for himself first. But I’m not supposed to care. I shouldn’t hook up with a girl so young or someone on my payroll. That’s two huge strikes against Willow Jones. I suddenly wish those stipulations didn’t exist because seeing her this way—in her element and away from everything that’s familiar to me and my business—has me tempted by her sweet, forbidden fruit. Plump, ripe, fruit that obviously talks to her friend about her new boss.

  I can’t help speaking with the curiosity of a gossipy teenage girl. “So, what exactly have you told Sloane about your boss? I hope only good things. I’m not too much of a prick around the office, am I?” I peel the wrapper off my bottle waiting for her response. Which winds up being very vague and gives nothing away.

  “All good things, Noah. Don’t worry. You’re a pleasure to work for. A lot nicer than my last boss.” Her gaze turns downward, avoiding eye contact. She doesn’t want to elaborate. That’s probably for the best.

  “Glad to hear it.”

  We sit in silence for a few seconds—Willow waiting for her vodka and cranberry, me eavesdropping on the heated conversation between Sloane and Blaze. It’s quite comical and it could probably escalate into something ugly, but I mind my business because I’ve learned the hard way with Blaze.

  Distracting me from my obvious spying, Willow nudges my shoulder with hers. “Don’t worry about those two. If she hasn’t decked him yet, he’s safe.”

  I laugh through my nose to contain the mouthful of beer I just gulped.

  Willow giggles, bringing a hand to her face to tuck a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. “So, do you really come here every Friday night?”

  Trying not to gawk at her beauty—how had I not already noticed just how beautiful—I answer, “Um, yeah. Kind of a habit Blaze got me into.”

  “Nice coincidence, I guess.” She slides her lips together in what I’ve learned is an attempt to spread her remaining lipstick around. I stare a little too long—hopefully she doesn’t notice—because watching her does something funny to my gut. Okay, funny might be the wrong word. How about naughty? Yes, naughty. Everything about being in such close proximity to this woman, knowing she’s attracted to me, being outside the realm of our work, inhaling her intoxicating floral and berry scent—Get ahold of yourself. You don’t do this—especially not with an employee. A young, out of your league, employee who deserves better than what you’re willing to give.

  Willow clears her throat, ridding my mind of the hot images of her naked body sprawled across my bed, her long wavy hair covering my pillow, my mouth claiming her perfect plush lips. “You’re not originally from here, right?” she unfolds the crease in one of the napkins embossed with Sullivan’s logo.

  We don’t chat much on a personal level at work. I’m always in and out, on a job. I don’t get to hang around the office staff much, but that’s why I’ve only hired the best. People I can trust to run my pride and joy from behind the scenes while I’m the man taking care of all things front and center. Either way, her knowledge of my past comes as a surprise to me. I wonder how she knows even this minor detail. Must be Blaze or one of her co-workers who’ve been with me longer. I can’t say I’m not pleased that she’s done her homework. I like that she took the time to learn about me—her boss. Yup. It’s nice to get to know the background of the person you work with five days a week. Right? Like I probably should have done.

  “No, I’m from the East Coast, originally,” I answer, comfortable enough to share something about myself with her.

  “What brought you here, then? Work? Family? A girl?” Ah, something she doesn’t know. Inquisitive Willow is intriguing and beautiful. The hazel hue of her eyes flickers between amethyst and turquoise—it’s erotic and mesmerizing. Shit, Willow, how do you do that?

  “No, definitely not a girl. I was offered an opportunity with Habitat for Humanity five years ago. I jumped at the chance because I had nothing keeping me home and because it’s a great cause. I love what I do, so being able to mix my passion with charity seemed like a no-brainer. And the rest is history.

  “When I finished up the project with the group, I decided to open my own business. It’s what I did back home—I mean, back East—so getting started wasn’t all that hard. It was finding new clients that took a while. But with Blaze as my sidekick . . . let’s just say his charm scored me lots of business. I kind of owe him a lot. Guess that’s why I let him stick around.” I hate talking about myself—or the past—but I figure it’s nice to fill in the blanks on all the things she doesn’t know.

  Tilting her head and curling her hair between her fingers, her gorgeous mouth forms a megawatt smile “Wow. Every time I learn something new about you, I’m more and more impressed.”

  She’s flirting, I’m not an idiot, but I don’t want to lead her on so I change the subject. “How about you? Were you born in California? I know you went to college out here from your resume, but—”

  “There is no but,” she interrupts. “I have the most unexciting life imaginable. I was born and raised in Del Mar. I have two younger brothers, parents divorced when I was little, and Dad lives in Oregon with his new wife, Marcy. I went to college close to home to help Mom with the boys, and Sloane has been my best friend since fifth grade. That’s me in a nutshell. Boring, plain, uneventful. No one cares about keeping up with this Jones.”

  I can’t quite read her. She rambled it off so quickly it almost sounds rehearsed. I have nothing else to go on, so I can’t tell if she’s hiding or avoiding something. I don’t pry, because I don’t like talking about my past either. And because of that, I’ve learned to always make small talk and keep the attention off me with flattery.

  “I find it hard to believe that there’s anything boring about you, Willow Jones. You’re beautiful and smart and you have the whole world ahead of you.” Nice! Now I sound like her father. It just came out without thinking. I meant it as a compliment—a not too forward one—but by the wearied look on her face, I can tell she took it the wrong way. Damn, this woman brings me close to choking on my own tongue. What the hell?

  “I guess you’ll just have to take my word for it since you seem to avoid me every chance you get.” She looks down again, making it impossible to read her face. She was flirting and I misled her with my goo-goo eyes.

  Fuck! She found a way to catch me off guard and now I have to backtrack to fix this mess. Getting involved with a co-worker—or any woman right now—just isn’t on my to-do list. “I’m not avoiding you, Willow. I’m just not the guy for you.” I can’t say it’s not taking serious willpower to stay away. It’s hard to always be the good guy. Where the hell is Tori when I need her? I need to be bad. Very, very bad.

  Instead of deterring her, my dismissal makes her bolder. Or maybe it’s the second vod
ka and cran. Willow pouts—intentionally, for sure—and those pretty, glossy lips snatch my attention. It’s so fucking sexy that my dick grows hard against my zipper and I shift in my seat so I don’t bring notice to the bulge in my pants. “Blaze warned me about you, you know.”

  “Oh, really?” Now I’m curious. “Please enlighten me on the bullshit my friend’s fed you.” Blaze means well, but he always shares a little too much.

  Willow laughs, exposing the smooth skin of her neck as her head falls back. What I wouldn’t give to taste that spot right there. Stop tempting me, Willow. You’re making this—and me—harder than it has to be.

  She points a finger in my face, waving it around. “You see, if you’d accept my invitation to lunch once in a while, I could fill you in on all the bullshit he’s told me. But until I hear it from you, I’m forced to believe him.”

  “Oh come, on. You’ve been working for me long enough to know I almost never take a lunch break. I eat on the site most days. That’s if I even get the chance. And like I said, I’m not the guy for you.” Keep saying it. It’s bound to sink in.

  “Who said I’m looking for a guy, Noah? Or for you to be him. You’re awfully presumptuous for a smart, older, established business man.”

  “Older, huh?” Spitfire. I’d like to wash her mouth out with soap—or some sick fantasy like that.

  “I mean, really,” she continues, looking down at the glass in her hands. “I’ve worked for you for what, a month now? You barely know a thing about me—the woman you trust to man your office. Would it kill you to be my friend? My last boss was over at my house for dinner with his wife a few times. And the boss before that is a friend I meet for mani-pedis once in a blue. I don’t get why two co-workers can’t just enjoy an innocent chat from time to time. Like this, right now—I’m not jumping your bones. We’re talking. That’s what acquaintances do, Noah. It’s a normal way of life.”

  Now, isn’t that a notion? A woman as a friend. I can’t see how being friendly with my office manager is a bad thing.

  Who the fuck am I kidding? It’s a very bad thing because I’m attracted to her and she’s already expressed an interest in me. This has bad news written all over it.

  “This was a coincidence. I don’t make it a point to go out drinking with my staff.”

  She shakes her head and throws a hand on her hip. “Huh, really? And what do you call Blaze?”

  Smartass. “He’s my partner, my friend. It’s different.” Different because he doesn’t have your rack, your legs, or those sweet, kissable lips.

  “So, you’re not in the market for friends, either?”

  Why is this becoming an argument? Because you’re an uptight prick. Oh right! That’s why.

  “Fine,” I concede. I pick up my beer and clink it with her glass. “Friends. Happy?”

  “Thrilled.” She downs the rest of her drink and proceeds to ignore me for the next half hour.

  I’m such an ass. If I hadn’t come off all stay away from me if you know what’s good for you, I’d be having a good time. Like the three of them are.

  Sloane, Blaze, and a carefree Willow are chatting it up about some reality show I have no time to watch. I’m officially the fourth wheel to their tricycle of fun, and I hate it.

  I hate that I exclude myself and reject anything that makes me think outside the box. You know, that dark, empty box of loneliness I’ve built around myself as protection from the things I used to want. This way just seems easier. At least it did until the three laughing fools over there made me all kinds of jealous for not being in on their joke.

  “Care to fill me in?” I wiggle my way into their conversation. If you can’t beat ’em, join ’em, right?

  Sloane and Blaze are deep into whatever they were discussing, but I catch Willow’s attention with my question.

  “Ready to quit your moping?” She pulls her stool closer to me again, staring at me in amusement.

  “Listen, Willow . . .” I start to explain, not sure exactly what needs to be said.

  “You can call me Lo. Everyone does.”

  Friends do that—the nickname thing—but I don’t want to call her Lo. I think her name is pretty. It suits her. And I’m not everyone. I’m her boss. “I prefer your real name, if that’s okay, and as I was saying . . .”

  “What was he saying?” Blaze interrupts our conversation. “Danny Downer ruining your buzz again? Time for another!” Even though he’s an asshole, I’m grateful his big mouth is a distraction. I don’t want to make things more awkward than they already are.

  Shrugging off any discomfort she might feel, Willow reaches into her purse and flashes some cash. “My buzz is just getting started—I can definitely use another. This round’s on me, though. And Mr. Downer can certainly use another, as well.” Willow looks past me to snag the bartender’s attention and runs off a list of shots and beers fit for a posse much larger than ours. While the bartender prepares her order, they strike up a conversation that steals her away from me again.

  Blaze nudges me in the shoulder and leans down to whisper, “Why are you being such a dick? What’s your issue?”

  “The same issue as always.”

  “Dumbass.” Blaze rolls his eyes and excuses himself to the bathroom.

  With a line of drinks in front of them, Sloane and Willow are lost in a giggling fit. They down one, then two, shoving lemon slices in their mouths. I can’t help observing with a smile—so youthful and fresh, yet mature and confident—even if they’re on their way to the furthest thing from sober.

  I roll my neck from side to side. There shouldn’t be tension, but there is. Can’t I just relax and have a good time? I wish I could, but if I do, I’ll let my guard down. And I can’t do that because I’m sure it will lead to poor decisions and taking advantage of my buzz, and Willow’s—caused by both the alcohol and the palpable heat between us.

  Shit! Why does it have to be this way? Aside from the obvious attraction, I could push that all aside and just be her friend. It should come easily enough. But if I’m honest, I’m worried she’ll eventually want more. The young ones get attached quickly and I’m not looking for attachment right now. Maybe not ever. I like freedom to come and go as I please and I like my heart intact—the way it’s been for the last five years.

  I’ve been on the receiving end of a broken heart. I don’t care to be the one handing them out, either.

  Willow interrupts my brooding by extending another beer my way. “Here, Noah. You had a busy week, loosen up a little.” Her smile is sweet and her intention even sweeter. I’m not sure what it is, but I like that she seems concerned—the role reversal is pleasing. I’m always the one taking care of everything—my clients, my employees, the community, my family, and things back home. It’s nice to have someone worried about my stress level for once.

  Mentally removing the stick from my ass, I let the beginning of the night roll off my back, and accept her friendly invitation. “One more. And thanks, it has been quite a week.”

  Willow rests her chin in the hand that’s propped on the bar. Her eyes have glassed over a bit—the shots are doing their job—but she’s still composed neatly and her words aren’t slurred. I guess she can hold her liquor. “Why don’t you tell me about it—your week, I mean. I’d like to know what goes on behind the scenes. Sitting at that desk gets boring sometimes. I wouldn’t mind getting my hands dirty, you know? I’m good with tools. My dad taught me a lot.”

  Okay, friend zone my ass. Now she’s simply trying to make me come in my pants! A woman who knows how to use tools? That’s my number one fantasy. “Really? I didn’t picture you as the handy type. You’re not what I expected.”

  “Oh, you have no idea.” She laughs and then takes another sip of her drink. The hollow of her neck vibrates as she swallows and I dart my gaze to my hands to distract my dirty thoughts. I can sense what little inhibition she had before is dwindling with each cocktail. I almost reach out to remove the glass from her hand and warn her to slow down, b
ut I don’t want to be her buzz kill. I’m trying it her way, by accepting her friendship.

  I lean over to drum up amiable conversation, but Sloane sails in out of nowhere, tugging her friend by the hand onto the semi-crowded dance floor. “Oh!!! Lo, this is our jam!” It’s hip hop night—my least favorite—and a swarm of barely dressed women are enjoying what the DJ has to offer.

  Shifting in my stool, Blaze creeps over and nudges me again. “She’s pretty, isn’t she?”

  I roll my eyes, but can’t hide the grin. “Very.”

  “What are you going to do about it?”

  Pain in the ass. “Nothing.”

  Blaze finishes off his lager and slams the bottle down on the bar. “And why not?”

  “Jesus, Blaze. Are you dense? I told you why. She works for me.”

  “Aha!” He points in my face. “The tide is changing, my friend. That is not what you told me before.”

  “Huh?” He’s talking in circles.

  “You said you didn’t want a relationship . . . that’s been the Noah Matheson M.O. for as long as I’ve known you. But now—I don’t know bro, but it sounds like if she weren’t working for you, you’d have a different outlook.”

  When the fuck did I say that? “Are you high?”

  “No, but you are. On Willow’s fine ass.”

  I can’t help but laugh as Blaze points out Sloane and Willow on the dance floor. He’s right—she does have a fine ass and my intellects are quite fuzzy from watching it shake so effortlessly. My foot taps in time to the beat as I spy on them without reserve. It feels dirty—like I’m a voyeur—but that’s only because her dancing is so provocative. This is a side of Willow I’m sure she didn’t wish for me to see. Something she might be embarrassed about at work on Monday. I make a mental note not to mention it, but keep my eye on the entertainment.

  When the song is over, Willow stumbles back to her seat beside me, resting her head on my shoulder. Whatever happened on that dance floor—and whatever else she consumed during the five minute song—has her even more candid than before. “You should have joined us, Noah. No fun watching from the sidelines.” Her fingertip traces my jawline. I bite my lip and close my eyes to control the rest of my body.