Chapter Five
BRADLEY
The words just slipped out, and I don’t know why my dick responded. But he’s waking up. He’s waking up for my best friend, and that isn’t cool.
I clear my throat as she smiles softly, and I notice the way her face softens and her eyes crinkle at the corners. Pretty eyes. Eyes that I could get lost in, eyes that…no!Not eyes I could get lost in… what the fuck is the matter with me?
“Magic?” she laughs, breaking me free from my reverie. “What makes you think I had anything to do with this?”
“Baby Girl, it has your name written all over it.”
“Nope,” she sings. “Not me.”
A slow smile spreads across my face. She’s simply adorable. Even on my worst days, Chelsea makes everything better just by being her.
“Well, they are delicious.”
“I guess Deat may have inherited my cooking skills.” She shrugs.
“Well, he’s gonna make a fine baker himself if this is what he’s churning out at six.”
“Oh, my godddd!” Mason squeals behind Chelsea. “I’m sorry, baby cakes, I couldn’t wait. I think I’m in love with all three ofthese! How am I meant to choose when everything you do is so freaking amazing?”
Chelsea, a little shyly, tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear. She’s never good with compliments, and I don’t know why. She’s a fucking superwoman.
“Are you gonna share?” I ask quizzically. “Or just hoard the sponges greedily?”
Mason promptly ignores me. “He’s commandeering your attention when cake wars could be happening in the next room.”
She laughs again. “Cake wars?”
“The staff in this office are like bloodhounds when it comes to food.” He rolls his eyes. “Especially cake. You have to help me make a decision.”
“I’ll help,” I put in. “Where’s my sample?”
Mason turns to give me an exasperated look. “Seriously, Bradley? Is it enough that you Lucas men can just eat whatever you want and manage to not blow up like a pool float without rubbing it in us mere mortals’ faces? It takes effort to look like this.” He swipes a hand from his well coiffured, perfectly styled hair, down his impeccably tailored suit, then flounders off dramatically.
“Wow. I think I hit a nerve,” I mutter with a chuckle.
“I’d better go and calm him down. You know how he gets in times of stress,” Chelsea says with a wince.
“Tell me about it. I have to work with him.”
“I’ll save you a bite.” She gives me a small wave as she disappears and I do not notice the flowery blue and white dress she has on and how it makes her slender figure appear curvy in all the right places, or how the wedges she’s wearing make her legs look even longer than they are.Calm down, dick. You’re just deprived.
I’ve had a eureka moment. That’s what it is. I’ve denied myself sex for too long, and now I’m paying the price. Lustingafter my best friend wasn’t exactly in the cards, nor did I plan it, but it would make sense that the only reason I’m behaving this way is because she’s the only woman I see on a regular basis.
Does that make me some kind of creep? I didn’t think so until this moment, but maybe I have to get back on the horse. Why does that suddenly sound like the most horrendous idea in the world? Holy shit. What has happened to me?
I swallow hard, the realization that I’m pathetic should have hit me sooner than this.
Chelsea is precious. She’s on a pedestal that, granted, I put her on. But it isn’t my fault. Chelsea is an angel. An angel in a world where there’s so much darkness.
So realistically, it isn’t my fault. It is my fault, however, not to act on any of these ‘feelings’. What I need is a night out. I’ll text all my friends and see if they’re free this weekend. We haven’t been on a pub crawl in forever, and while the club scene used to excite me, I can’t help but realize how fucking boring it is now.
The same places. Same faces.
Meeting a woman and putting your best foot forward, knowing you’re never gonna see her again. That used to be me until recently. Don’t get me wrong. I never led anyone on. They knew what we were doing; it was just sex. But I’d never treat Chelsea that way. Imagining a man treating her with anything other than respect has me clenching my jaw, ready to punch someone. I’m not known as the office grump for no reason, but this time I’d have an excuse to punch someone’s lights out.
