What the fuck am I doing?
Why was it so important for her to understand he’d left the club alone? He shouldn’t care what she thought of him, but somehow, he did, and the lapse of silence, long and loud while he waited for her to answer, scraped his nerves raw.
“I was baking cookies.”
“What kind?” His head lolled back, and he closed his eyes. Now, he sounded desperate, grasping for a reason to keep talking.
“Snickerdoodle.”
He didn’t make small talk with women. He flirted. He fucked. Then he was done. That wasn’t happening with this one. This one was different. This was business. She was off-fucking-limits.
Just admit you like her.
“I like white chocolate chip macadamia nut.”
“I’ll have to remember that.” The smile in her voice crossed the distance between them, but she went quiet, and he waited for her to put words to the thoughts ricocheting around in her head. “You know, I was preparednotto like your family. I thought, ‘Rich and snobby, they’ll be easy to deceive.’ But they’re neither of those things, and I feel guilty lying to them.”
Valid concerns, sure. Just not what he’d hoped to hear. But then both of them were skirting the subject he wanted to broach.
“Me, too.” Probably not as much as he should, but… “I think it’s a good idea if we keep our time spent with them to a minimum, so they don’t get too attached.”
“Is that why you lied to Charlotte about asking Lincoln to look at property?”
Busted. “Yeah, sorry. It’s best if you stick to meeting with Charlotte as a client. The less time you spend with any of them the better. But I’ll make the property search happen.”
“That’s not necessary. I’ll find something when the time comes.” Her pride was busy stacking bricks to rebuild the wall he was trying to breach.
“Hang on.” He lowered the phone to send a quick text to Linc. The screen was dim. Low battery. Only seven percent left.
“Avery, no,” he heard her say as he popped in a pair of earbuds from the kitchen charging station.
The message to Linc was done before the buds connected. “Too late.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m nowhere near that stage.”
Lifting the bottle to his lips, he thrummed his fingers against the counter. He’d do some research and run the numbers. Other than the thirty thousand he’d paid her, he had no inkling of how much money she had. Probably wasn’t enough. Still, there had to be a way. “I’ve got connections. Which bank did you talk to about a loan?”
“Avery, stop. It’s not your problem.”
For some reason, her dream had become important to him. And not just because he’d gotten her fired. She was smart, talented, and worked hard. She deserved to reach her full potential, and he could help her, wanted to see her succeed. He could make that loan happen. Hell, he could give her the money.
He sighed. If she wouldn’t accept his help with a loan, she sure as fuck wouldn’t accept a handout, which is how she’d see it. But…
Maybe they could extend their arrangement.
The idea poured over him like a good whiskey, hot and heady. It felt right and, at the same time, a little dangerous, butit would satisfy both their needs. Hers for more capital; his for…what? Besides the ache in his balls and the craving to hear her scream his name as she shattered into a million pieces beneath him?
Whatever it was, it was a bridge not yet stable enough to cross. She’d know his suggestion for what it was, and that stubborn pride of hers would demand refusal.
“Charlotte said you wanted to surprise me today,” she said, clashing with his thoughts. “Why go to that much trouble when you could have just given her my number?”
“I don’t know.” And he didn’t. But seeing the look on her face when Charlotte told her she’d fired Giselle had been worth it.
“I do,” she said softly, then laughed. “You’re a nice guy when you’re not being a dick.”
“Fuck, don’t tell anyone.” Taking one last sip from the bottle, he left it unfinished and headed down the hall to his room. “Besides, I almost didn’t pull it off with your need to control everything. Hence the dick moves.”
He plugged his phone into the docking station on his nightstand and emptied his pockets onto the dresser.
