#Bossholes, page 15
Wyatt glances around my apartment, walking deeper into the living room, and just when I think he’s going to try out my couch, he turns back to us. “Where’s your room? There’s a bathroom and the room your brother went in.” His gaze sweeps into Colin’s room which has definitely been decorated by a teenage boy. “That’s obviously his. Where do you sleep? Where are your parents?”
I shift, suddenly wishing we were back to talking about their jealousy and the longevity of our relationship. This isn’t exactly a conversation I want to get in with them. Ever. But they’re both staring at me expectantly, and it’s crystal clear they’re not going to let this go. “Which question do you want an answer to?”
He crosses his arms, his frown deepening. “Cute, Kinsley.”
“I think I am.” I shift my gaze to Maverick, hoping he’ll change the subject, but he crosses his arms too, his entire demeanor mirroring Wyatt’s. “My parents died three years ago.”
“And your room.”
“You’re in it.” I do my best to make my voice upbeat even though I’m dying on the inside. I don’t need them feeling sorry for me or my brother, and I sure as hell don’t want the looks of pity they’re throwing my way.
Maverick shares a look with Wyatt I can’t quite decipher and says flatly, “That explains the lumpy couch.”
There’s a beat of silence, tension swirling around us, and it’s choking me. I can’t deal with it. Not right now. So I sweep my arms toward the door and plaster a sunny smile on my face. “Well, this has been great. I know where you live. You know where I live. If you don’t mind, I’d really love to get on with my day.”
They continue to stare at me, unmoving for several seconds, and then Wyatt clears his throat, a flash of hurt crossing his face, but it’s gone so quickly I’m not sure I saw it correctly. He was the one who very easily said we’ll forget last night ever happened.
Sure, afterward, they held me while I slept, brought me coffee, drove me home…but that doesn’t mean anything. It can’t.
“Of course.” Maverick’s tone is tight as he steps in front of me, his hands resting on my shoulders, and he presses a quick kiss to the top of my head.
He lingers for a second, his fingers hovering above my lips, his eyes searching mine. He leans closer, and for a second I think he’s going to kiss me. My heart races. My lips part. I shouldn’t want another kiss, but I do.
Except, he pulls back and heads out the door.
Wyatt gives me a curt nod as he passes. “See you Monday morning.”
They’re gone. No hard feelings. No strangled goodbyes.
It’s how it should be.
So why do I miss them already?
THIRTY-ONE
Brantley
I’m watching the Devils’ hockey game from last night because I’m feeling violent, and while I can’t go around smashing things in my apartment, watching these guys beat each other on the ice makes me feel marginally better.
Marginally.
I didn’t sleep for a goddamn minute last night, and while I don’t regret my decision to stay home…well, I don’t have to like it.
Especially when I spent every fucking second imagining my brother and my best friend mauling the one woman I can’t seem to get out of my head. Why? Fuck if I know.
But I can tell you it’s pretty damn inconvenient.
I usually spend my Saturday nights working. I know, not exactly a shocker, but it’s how I prefer to spend my time. It’s easy. Simple. And at the end of each day, I’ve accomplished countless things for my high profile clients and the firm.
Kinsley is messy. She’s a complication to my life I don’t need.
A fight breaks out on the ice, usually my favorite thing about hockey, but I was so lost in my own head, I didn’t notice until the whistle was called. I need to get it together.
With a grunt, I turn the volume down on the TV and head to the kitchen to make myself a drink. It’s almost noon, but it’s five o'clock somewhere. I have the drink to my lips, letting the taste of scotch linger when Wyatt and Maverick sweep into my apartment. I quickly glance at their rumpled suits from yesterday and down my drink in one gulp. Cheers.
Knowing what likely went down between the three of them is bad enough; I don’t need them rubbing my nose in it.
“We have a problem.” Wyatt frowns as he takes in my glass, but doesn’t say a word about it.
I match his frown with one of my own, clinking the ball of ice around my glass before slamming it down on my counter. “What kind of problem? And don’t tell me our secretary kicked you out of the hotel room. If she had, you'd have come sulking last night. And you wouldn’t look like shit.”
“I don’t sulk,” he scoffs. He glances down at his suit and attempts to brush out the wrinkles. He fails. Instead, he takes off his tie and suit jacket and tosses them in a heap on my kitchen island. “Is the apartment below yours still vacant?”
I snag the bottle of scotch, pour myself another shot, but leave it on the counter. “For the moment. I have a few more applications to go through today.”
If I can pull my head out of my ass and concentrate on something for a solid ten minutes.
“Well, don’t.”
My gaze shifts to Maverick who’s casually leaning against the island, watching me with his trademark smirk. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on?”
My words come out a little harsher than intended, but I’m not one to play games, and the two of them are starting to irritate the shit out of me.
Maverick’s grin only deepens. “So, it turns out our secretary needed the auction money to take care of her younger brother. Her parents are dead, and I can only assume that means she’s raising her brother on her own.”
Not exactly news to me, but I keep my mouth shut. At least about that. “That’s nothing problematic. I’m sure that kind of thing happens more than we know.”
It’s a lie, one I chase with a small sip of scotch.
The look he gives me tells me how full of shit he thinks I am. “Well, she’s living in a one-bedroom apartment and is currently sleeping on the couch.”
My spine straightens, and my head snaps in his direction, my eleven thousand dollar bottle of scotch forgotten. “That’s unacceptable.”
So much for trying to forget about her. Let’s face it—it wasn’t going to work anyway, and moving her into the apartment on the floor below us isn’t going to help. I’ll see her every day at work, and even if I don’t see her in the building, I’ll know she’s close. It’ll be torture.
Yet, that’s precisely where I want her. In my building. Under my apartment.
Under my protection.
“Exactly.” Wyatt hops up on my kitchen counter, pulls out his phone, and pecks the screen. “Which is why I think we need to move them in that empty apartment ASAP. Her brother is going to be having surgery soon, and they could use the extra help during his recovery.”
“Surgery? For what?” And why didn’t she tell me about it?
“Some kind of implants.”
“For his ears?”
“I assume.”
“You’re an idiot.” I pinch the bridge of my nose and blow out a heavy breath. “Did you talk to her about this? Did she agree to leave her place?”
They glance at each other and then at the floor. Of course they didn’t.
Maverick clears his throat. “She might have kicked us out of her apartment after we insisted on taking her home.”
My lips twitch, but I keep the displeasure on my face as I stare them down. “So, let me get this straight. You went against me and won our employee’s virginity in an exceptionally shady online auction for ‘her own protection,’ somehow talked her into sleeping with you both, and now you want to show up at her apartment without an invitation and move her and her brother without her permission.”
“That about sums it up.” It’s clear these idiots are going to be following her around with hearts in their eyes for the foreseeable future.
“Are you insane? You can’t force someone to move because it’s what you want for them.” I blow out another breath, run a hand down my face, and mutter a few choice words.
Wyatt puts his phone down on the counter and pins me with a look, one that says I’m not going to like what he has to say. “Why don’t you just ask how last night was?”
Nope.
Didn’t like it.
And I’m not going to take the bait. This isn’t a conversation I’m ready to have. Especially when my feelings for her are already unwanted and unreciprocated. And while we’re at it, inappropriate.
I stalk past them, leaving my kitchen and sit down on my couch, intent on finishing the game.
Maverick is the first to sit next to me. “Don’t you want to know which one took her virginity?”
“How she looks when she’s about to come?” Wyatt sits on my other side.
“How good she feels?”
“She asked about you, you know.” I turn to Wyatt and almost ask him to continue, but I don’t need to know every sordid detail, even though I desperately want to know. But he continues despite my gaze returning to the game. “She seemed a little disappointed you weren’t there. Are you really going to let her continue sleeping on a couch when we have a fully furnished apartment available?”
Maverick hums in agreement and props his feet on my coffee table. “We own the building. It’s not like we have to run it by anyone.”
“She might like to have an opinion,” I mutter but am ignored.
“She’d be much more comfortable here, and we’d be able to help her with her brother.”
“Colin.”
His brows raise as he takes me in. “With Colin.”
They’re not wrong. Any surgery is a big deal, and she shouldn’t have to go through all that alone because life dealt her a shitty hand. I’m sure she would appreciate having us on hand. We could grab food, medicine, whatever they needed.
Am I really considering this?
If it weren’t for Colin, I would’ve told them to mind their own damn business, although their track record for listening to anything I have to say isn’t stellar.
Still, she’s going to be pissed. If we show up with a moving truck, she could call the police. We could be arrested for trespassing.
“Did I mention there’s absolutely no security at her place? No cameras. Nothing. She only has a flimsy lock on her front door. Anyone who wanted to could easily get to her and Colin while they slept.”
Well, fuck.
If I go to jail, at least I know a few lawyers I can call.
THIRTY-TWO
Kinsley
I’m scooping some ice cream in a bowl for a much needed mid-afternoon snack when there’s a knock at my door. Not sure who it could be, though. June is the only one of my friends who knows where I live, and she was already here this morning.
Maybe Colin forgot something at her place?
That has to be it.
I leave my bowl on the kitchen counter and open the front door, a smile on my face. A smile that dies the second my eyes land on my three bosses.
The fuck?
As they push their way into my apartment I’m stunned, stunned for so many reasons. They’re carrying broken down boxes. There are at least ten guys behind them carrying more boxes and packing material. And Brantley, Wyatt, and Maverick are wearing jeans.
Jeans!
I’m not sure what’s more alarming—the denim or the cardboard currently being assembled and taped together.
I think the correct answer is both.
“What do you guys think you’re doing?” I catch up to Maverick, closing the silverware drawer he just opened.
He ignores me and reopens the drawer. I close it. He reopens it and packs the contents in the box he’s holding. He doesn’t look at me. Nope. He looks over me toward the movers swarming my living room. “Don’t worry about loading that couch; it’s going straight to the dump.”
“What? No one is throwing away my couch.” I whirl around and focus on the men unmounting my television from the wall. “Put that back up there.”
They don’t.
I don’t know what the hell is going on here, but this insanity has to stop. I have no intention of going anywhere. These guys are going to feel like big jackasses when they have to put everything back where it belongs.
You know what, I’m calling into work tomorrow. I’m going to be way too busy moving back into my damn apartment. They can respond to their own emails.
“Maverick, stop packing.” I’m so close to stomping my feet on the ground and throwing a tantrum. Why? Because Mr. Hotshot doesn’t even spare me a glance.
He continues packing up my kitchen and giving directions to the other guys, completely oblivious to my existence.
Anger flows through me, boiling in my veins. Usually, I have a pretty long fuse, but I think it’s safe to say these assholes snipped it and set it on fire. They may sign my paycheck, but they have no right to come into my home and pack up my things.
And for what?
God only knows, but I sure as hell hope they don’t think Colin and I are going to move in with them.
Wyatt and Maverick may have gotten one night out of me, but that’s where I draw the line. I’m done. I should’ve taken the money and sent them on their way. I don’t know what I was thinking.
Oh, yeah—I wasn’t.
They hypnotized me with their lips and dirty words.
They should be ashamed; I know I am.
It’s clear I’m not going to get anything out of Maverick, so I change course, stomping straight to Brantley. Clear, level-headed Brantley.
He’ll be on my side. He’s reasonable. Surely, he thinks this whole idea is ridiculous…even if he’s dressed as casual as the rest of them. And damn. I have to pause for a second and admire the view because I’m sure this isn’t one I’ll see again.
He’s wearing a pair of ripped jeans that do wonders for his ass and a T-shirt that has no business wrapping around his biceps like it is. No wonder he wears a suit all the time. If the girls at work knew he looked like this in a simple T-shirt, they’d be fighting each other to get to him.
Even now, I’m tempted to let him proceed just so I can sit back and watch his muscles flex like the needy harlot I am. But I won’t. I’m not.
I’m sure they’re dressed like this to throw me off, and I hate to say it’s working.
I don’t like it and right now, I don’t particularly care for them.
Plus, this entire thing seems very illegal. They’re lawyers, for fuck’s sake. They should know better. Unless Maverick and Wyatt are hoping they fucked the brain cells out of me last night. Which since I haven’t called the police is a real possibility.
“Brantley, what the hell is going on?” I stop beside him, hand on my hips, doing my best to keep from getting distracted. I’m angry, not horny. “What are you doing here? Who the hell are these guys? I’m pretty sure I can have you arrested for this.”
For several passing seconds, I don’t think he’s going to answer me either. His face is a wall of stone, completely unreadable, as he takes one picture off the wall and then the next.
I don’t know what possessed me to touch him, but I do, laying a hand on his shoulder. He tenses beneath me, but I keep it there. “Please.”
The word comes out as a whisper, but he rears back like I’ve slapped him.
Slowly he turns and runs a hand down his face as he sighs. “There’s a three-bedroom apartment below mine that’s empty.” He sighs again, and I can’t help but notice how his T-shirt stretches over his chest with every deep breath. No distractions, Kinsley. “You deserve to have your own space.”
Is he kidding me right now?
“What I deserve and what I can afford are drastically different things, Mr. Ellis. You can’t just move me into your building because there’s a room available.” My voice raises with each word, and by the time I’m finished I’m practically yelling. You’d think the guys milling around us would take that as a hint and stop, but you’d be wrong. I take a deep breath and count to ten. “I can’t afford it there.”
“Sure you can.”
“I’m not joking, Brantley.”
He crosses his arms, his deep green eyes searching my face. “Neither am I.”
“I’m not moving.” I cross my arms too, mirroring his stance.
“And I’m not asking, Kinsley. You and Colin need to be somewhere safer, and when he has his surgery, there’s a good chance you’re going to need help. We’ll be there for you whether you like it or not.” He reaches a hand toward me, but about halfway, he stops, his hand falling to his side. “If you don’t like it, once he’s fully recovered, I’ll help you find another place. One where you can both be comfortable.”
My head is spinning, and while I get what he’s saying, it doesn’t change anything. I appreciate they’re thinking about me, thinking about my brother, but I can’t move. There’s no way I can afford a night in their building let alone a few months. All the money I got from my night with Wyatt and Maverick is going toward taking care of Colin, and I’m not going to make any more sacrifices where he’s concerned.
“This is too much.”
No one has tried to go out of their way to help me before, including my own parents. I don’t like it. I don’t know how to process it. I’ve always been on my own. These guys are heavy handed, demanding, and completely ridiculous. Also slightly sweet, but only a very small fraction.
“Don’t worry about it.” Maverick shrugs, a smile tugging at his lips. “I know the owner.”
“Is this your way of telling me you are the owner?”
That damn smile stretches across his face, momentarily distracting me from the conversation, but it only makes me angrier. I’m about to tell him exactly where he can shove this offer when Colin comes out, his eyes wide, taking in our apartment which is now in total disarray.
