It wasn’t just the possibility of romance I avoided, though. Even after Levi had found me on social media, I kept him at an arm’s length, only telling him the most basic details of my life. And although Carly and her friends seemed perfectly nice, I’d avoided them throughout breakfast.
But I looked for Hound.
As soon as Levi motored off, I could have marched right past Hound and gone up to my room in peace. He hadn’t even seen me. Yet, I stopped and initiated a conversation. Then I massaged his leg and made sure he was okay.
And now I was in a pantry discussing cookies with him.
What the hell is wrong with me? There’s no transaction. I shouldn’t be here.
He stood only inches from me. I could feel his breath on my forehead and the heat of his body through my clothes. He was too close, and not just physically. I took a step back, putting some distance between us.
Hound seemed to pick up on the distance instantly. “You okay?” he asked.
No, I was not okay. I was enjoying spending time with him, and that scared the shit out of me. “Actually, I…” I had no lies. No excuses. Nothing to do, nowhere to be. “I should… probably go.” Taking another backwards step, I pushed open the door.
Lines formed across Hound’s forehead. “But… the tour.” He looked hurt and confused.
I wanted to assure him my sudden departure wasn’t personal, but that would only make shit more awkward. Especially since it wasn’t true. I needed to get away from him.
“Maybe some other time,” I said. It was a pathetic attempt to soften the blow, and even as I said it, I knew it was a lie. Being around Hound was dangerous, and I had every intention of avoiding him while I was in Seattle.
“Right. Some other time.” His eyes were heavy with disappointment.
I felt bad, which was a problem, because I shouldn’t feel anything. Needing to get the hell out of there more than I needed my next breath, I fled. Once in the safety of my temporary room, I locked the door and grabbed the nearest suitcase, zipping it open. Digging through clothes, I searched, but couldn’t find what I was looking for. I opened the next bag and found the framed picture of me and Polly sitting right on top, staring up at me. Scooping it up, I sat on the floor and studied the smiling face of my friend.
Polly had died a month before the end of the school year. At the time, I was eyeballs deep in curriculum, trying to make sure my class learned everything they needed to know. Her small celebration of life had been held on a Sunday, which fit neatly into my busy schedule. I allowed myself a couple of hours to grieve my friend, and then got right back to work grading papers. I hadn’t allowed myself to really even think about the fact she was gone.
But now, I needed a friend, and I felt her absence with every atom in my body.
A lump formed in my throat and tears stung the backs of my eyes as I remembered the last conversation we’d ever have.
Polly was sitting at the bar, reading something on her phone when I walked in.
I sneaked up on her before leaning into her space like I was some arrogant asshole trying to pick her up. “Hey hotstuff. If I break every chair in this place will you sit on my face?”
She belted out a laugh. Comparing corny pickup lines was our thing, a competition of sorts. Not to be outdone, she composed herself and held out a hand for me to shake. “Hey. My name’s Microsoft. Can I crash at your place tonight?”
Dissolving into laughter, I sat on the stool beside her. “Buy you a drink?”
“Hells yeah. It’s my birthday, bitch. You’re picking up the entire tab.” Planting a kiss on my cheek, she added, “I hope you’re loaded because this ass isn’t cheap.”
“That’s my favorite thing about you.” I ordered a martini and a refill of whatever pink concoction she was sipping.
“Speaking of expensive bitches…” She set her phone on the bar between us and scrolled the screen up to the beginning of the story she’d been reading. “Is this Billy the Bastard?”
The article headline read, “Soybean Fortune Heir on Trial for Embezzlement.” Beside the headline was a picture of William Dean Ortel III. Or, as I nicknamed him after finding him balls deep in one of my supposed friends, Billy the Bastard. Polly must have recognized his name because of the million or so times I’d used it as a curse word since meeting her. The past seven years had aged William, but he still looked every bit like the entitled, demanding douchebag he’d revealed himself to be.
“Yep. That’s him, but the charge doesn’t make sense.” Billy was a lot of things. Opportunistic, yes. Manipulative, absolutely. Controlling, you bet your ass. Stupid… not so much. He knew he was living high on daddy’s dime and embezzling from the company would be like biting the hand that fed him. “Billy’s dad gives him everything he wants. Why would he steal from the company?”
I scanned the short article for a reason, but nothing like that had been released. Billy was pleading innocent, despite the money that had been transferred into his account. An anonymous whistle-blower had apparently alerted stockholders and pointed a finger at Billy.
I handed Polly back her phone. “Weird.”
Dropping it on the counter, she shrugged. “That old soybean money makes people do crazy shit.”
Since soybeans didn’t become popular until the 1950’s, it was obvious she was being a smartass. Billy’s family’s money stretched well beyond their crops, but I had no idea what had originally made their millions. They definitely had the privileged mentality of old money, though. “Don’t worry, I’m sure his daddy will find a way to sweep it under the rug, like he does everything else.”
“Well, after everything that rich little bastard put you through, I hope he drops the soap and takes it in the ass.”
