Not quick enough with a comeback, I took a deep gulp of air and hoped for a rapid change of subject. It was obvious my big-ass she-boss attitude was a farce.
Seeming to sense I was freaking out, Mick said, “Don’t worry, I’m going to wait for you to tell me you’re ready.”
“Let’s stick with coffee, so you don’t over-flatter yourself,” I shot back, swiping my hair to one side, hoping my neck would cool. My cheeks were probably flushed and red.
“Believe me, this little chat is nothing. When you really come undone with me, Margo, you’ll finally be free of all the dead weight you carry around with you. I’ll take coffee. To start. But—and this is a big but—rest assured that I plan to take you apart and put you back together again.”
Closing my eyes for a second, I swallowed, almost feeling his gaze on me despite him being on the phone. I bit my lip and quickly stopped fantasizing.
“Let me know,” Mick said, and the line went dead as if we hadn’t just lit the phone and my backyard on fire with our words.
“Sure,” I said softly to myself.
As I stared out into space, my alarm went off, alerting me to pick up Priscilla. It was a very welcome diversion from the strange combo of guilt and giddiness filling my heart.
Mick
Sitting astride my Peloton bike, pedaling toward a personal record, I alternated between looking at the instructor on the screen and glancing at the view of the Back Bay.
Of course, I lived in the largest unit in my building—the penthouse with the best views—because that’s what little boys who grew up in shitty row houses did. We strived to live better, to make more money, to provide even more to those we loved, and to throw all that shit back in everyone’s faces.
Problem was, I’d worked too damn hard and had too little time over the years for personal connections. Or maybe I hadn’t found the right woman to enjoy life with by my side?
Lately, I’d been spending an inordinate amount of time thinking about my past, present, and future. I’d worked my ass to the bone, building my reputation and my company. When businesses were in trouble, they came to me.
So what if my mom had watchedPretty Womanso many freaking times that I identified with Richard Gere’s character? Although, I’d never admit that to anyone.
“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, and we are in a descending recovery,” my adorably peppy, non-sweating instructor shouted at me.
I turned the resistance down and saw I’d come in twenty points higher than usual. Better I take my tension out on the bike than out in the world. Not that I’d ever be violent. I’d seen enough of that to make my stomach turn while growing up.
Of course, this led me to think about Margo as I unclipped and swung my leg behind me, forcing my other foot to unclip.
Wiping my face with a towel, I wondered why I was so hung up on her. She was married, for fuck’s sake. I certainly didn’t need that headache. I had enough women who would be happy to warm my bed.
I padded toward the fridge and pulled out a premade shake, downing it before heading to the shower. My body was refusing to cool down, and it had nothing to do with the bike and everything to do with my newfound rage for Margo’s husband.
Married Margo, who I had zero business pursuing. The same woman who said she didn’t do this sort of thing, whatever this was, and who looked like a beaten dog when I gave her the brush-off at the Paula.
I’d been down this path once before, although not as severe. Jaime was only dating a bastard who beat her when we met and got involved. I helped her with leaving and kept her warm during the breakup. When she was ready to fly, I said good-bye.
But this infatuation I had with Margo would never be that easy to navigate away from.
After putting myself through a cool shower, I got out to my phone buzzing with a text.
Hey, I know it’s Saturday and you probably have plans later, but turns out I’m free.
That’s all it read, but it oozed with hesitation and reluctance. I also noted Margo didn’t use her name anywhere. Maybe she wanted to keep communication impersonal?
CanIcall?I sent back, and she answered,Yes.
Knotting the towel around my waist, I grabbed the phone and pressedSENDwhile walking into my closet. Setting the phone down on speaker, I listened to it ring twice and then a third time before she picked up.
“Hi,” she said, and I could hear birds chirping in the background.
“Hanging outside?” I wanted to act casual, but it was unclear who I was trying to calm. Her or me?
“I’m just back from a run and cooling off in my yard. Priscilla’s inside, working on a school project.”
