After she prowls through my kitchen, she turns to me with a shake of her head. “It’s empty.”
“I’m not—”
“Here that much. You’ve told me. As far as dinner goes, that’s going to change.”
For tonight, we call room service. While we wait, she moves into the spare bedroom. I linger in the doorway, try to talk to her. I attempt to be charming. I really want to remind her that half of my big bed is empty. I wonder if she would buy my argument that we could help the environment if we only needed to wash one set of sheets each week?
“How have you been the last few days?” I venture that line of questioning to see where the conversation goes.
“Perplexed,” she says honestly.
I understand what she means. “Me, too. I didn’t get a chance to tell you the other night, but you sang great.”
“Thanks.”
That’s all she has to say? Since she simply continues to pluck garments from her suitcase and hang them in the closet, I guess so.
I search for another conversation starter. “So you’ll just call your other jobs in the morning and quit?”
“Yes.”
And? “If they require two-week’s notice, you can’t give it to them.”
“Understood.” She sounds a bit down about that.
I want to comfort Keeley, but she has an invisible force field around her that warns me to keep out. Instead, I promise her something more practical. “Since you’ll be out of work, the offer of a hundred grand is still there. Just say the word.”
She gives me a noncommittal hum. I’m back at proverbial square one. If I touch her…well, I saw what happened to Hulk Moron’s balls the night we met. I promised I wouldn’t lay a hand on her against her will. Actually, I didn’t think she’d have much will to resist me. But I suspect this woman is far more stubborn than I gave her credit for. What if we spend the whole month without sex?
At the thought, I want to hang myself with barbed wire.
“This arrangement is going to work out.” I’m more hopeful than convinced, but I’m doing my best to be persuasive and upbeat for her.
“Sure.”
Her one-word responses are killing me. I grit my teeth. “You know, we’ll be together for a month. We have to speak to each other.”
Keeley finally pauses, looks away from her suitcase. “We have to speak about Griff and whatever I need to learn about the man in order to wow him. We have to speak about business stuff and how I can run the best inn ever.” She gives me a tight smile. “We don’t have to speak about anything else. Call me when the food is here.”
With that, she shuts the door between us, right in my face.
Screw being at square one. I’m less than zero.
I’m beginning to think that, despite negotiating this agreement to my advantage, I got thoroughly screwed.
I can’t sleep. Knowing that only one teeny-tiny closed door separates me from Keeley frustrates the fuck out of me. On the other hand, she’s so much closer than she was the night before. I’m getting the sense that I need to accept the small victories with her while plotting the larger ones in the future.
It’s already after midnight. I can’t sit still. The heavy doorknob that opens Keeley’s portal is like a magnet, urging me toward her with a gravitational pull I can hardly resist.
But I have to—for now.
As promised, I clear a spot on the lanai and stow her yoga mat out there so she’ll have it in ready position after sunrise. I also find a local grocery store that takes online orders. Grabbing the list Keeley made earlier, I take my laptop to bed and arrange for everything to be delivered by four o’clock tomorrow afternoon. I’ll ask her to be here. That way she can sign for it all and start cooking. We’ll eat as soon as I walk in the door. Maybe domestic bliss will ensue…which might include hugging and kissing and reintroducing her to my bed.
I’m fantasizing about tomorrow evening. She doesn’t mind spending a little time on her knees, right? But I’m equal opportunity. If she wants to lie back, spread her legs, and let me do my worst, I’m all in. Hell, I’m fucking excited. In fact, if I get any more excited, I’ll have to take myself in hand. This raging erection poking at the fly of my pajama pants is pissing me off.
Why is Keeley the only woman who makes me lose my self-restraint?
I’m trying to solve that conundrum when my phone rings. The name on the display provokes a smile. “Hey, Harlow.”
“Hey, big brother. What’s up?”
“Work. You know. Not much new.” Well, that’s not exactly true, and if Keeley could hear me, she’d raise that brow and look at me like my ethics suck. “Well, maybe a little new. I might have met someone.”
“Yeah? I was going to talk to you about Mom and Dad’s latest drama, but this sounds way more interesting. Tell me more.”
“Her name is Keeley. I met her in a bar.”
“Oh, dear god. So it’s a meaningful relationship, then?” Harlow snorts.
“I’m kind of hoping it is.” I like her. That’s more than I can say for most of my hookups.
“Exactly how did you two meet?”
I debate whether to tell her about my scheme to sidetrack Griff because A) since Harlow still speaks to both of us, she asked me not to put her in the middle of our feud a long time ago. And B) even if she didn’t call me twenty kinds of dumb ass and agree to keep my secret, I don’t want anything—even unwittingly—to slip loose.
On the other hand, Harlow would make a hell of an ally…and a spy.
It’s a calculated gamble, but after some mental debate, I decide it’s worth the risk.
I give her the abbreviated version of events, minus the sex. “Want to help me make sure Keeley succeeds?”
“Maybe. Tell me the truth first. You nailed her, didn’t you?”
Harlow has always been smart and good at reading between the lines.
“I couldn’t help it. I’m really into this girl. I’m not sure yet what we have in common. But she’s a good person. You’d like her. She only agreed to my plan because she’s convinced she can help Griff and me patch up our spat.” I scoff. “Like that’s ever going to happen.”
“If you keep being a douchebag, it won’t. Isn’t three years long enough to hold this grudge? You didn’t love Tiffanii, thank god. Don’t be so bitter.”