“How am I going to get rid of her?” I ask my mom as I walk out of the bathroom, my hair still wet from my shower.
She’s standing in my kitchen, coffee in her hand, and she stares at me with gentle eyes. “You’re not. And, honey, I don’t think you want to.”
I grab a mug from the cabinet and fill it with much-needed coffee. “She won’t let me buy her out.”
“Does that surprise you?” she asks. When I only give her silence, she continues with, “It’s all she has left.”
“It’s all I have left of him too.”
“Maybe you two can help each other heal.”
“I don’t want to be near her.”
“Is that why she slept over last night?”
“That’s different.”
“How so?” She wrinkles her nose. “You refuse to work with her but will have a sleepover?”
My shoulders fall slack. “I took her home, discovered she’d been sleeping in her damn laundry room, and stupidly brought her back here.”
My mother’s brows furrow. “Why is she sleeping in her laundry room?”
“She doesn’t like sleeping in her bedroom because of …” My voice trails off, as I’m unable to say the words out loud.
She puts me out of the misery of having to finish my sentence. “I can understand that.” Her voice is soft and comforting. “Why isn’t she staying with someone? If Lola knew about this, she’d be at Amelia’s right now, packing her stuff up.”
“Which is why you won’t say anything to Lola—to anyone.” I stress my last two words, as if they were my last wish.
“You sure have me keep a lot of secrets between you and Amelia.”
I rub the back of my neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
She gives me a really look. She’s the only person—other than Amelia and me, obviously—who knows about Amelia and me having sex.
She came in when I went to the bathroom to toss the condom, but not wanting to embarrass Amelia, she told me, “We’ll talk about this later,” and left.
Amelia never found out, and my mother never told anyone.
“We were sixteen. Stupid teenagers. That’s all it was.”
She nods but doesn’t believe me.
“She probably wouldn’t have come here had I not practically forced her or she wasn’t exhausted or tipsy.”
“I appreciate you doing that, but maybe you should talk her into staying with someone else.”
I scratch my cheek. “Nah. Knowing Amelia, she’ll keep crashing in that laundry room before she lets anyone do anything about it.”
“You have an extra room here. See if she wants it.”
I give her a stern look. “No.”
“Oh, come on.” She laughs. “Your father and I were roommates here.”
I wiggle my finger at her. “Yes, and now, you are also married with kids.”
She grabs her coffee and wraps both hands around the mug. “Sometimes, happiness comes along when you think it’s the last thing you’ll ever get back.”
“I like the new boss.” Toby says when I walk into work late—thanks to Little Miss Amelia.
Toby was the first employee Chris and I hired when opening the brewery. Chris was skeptical of hiring an older guy, but I could tell Toby wasn’t about the bullshit. Yeah, sometimes, younger guys have a little more kick to them, but they can also come with problems too. Toby doesn’t sit around and complain about relationship issues, nor does he come in hungover. He’s one of the most responsible men I’ve ever known. His parents owned a winery and brewery before closing it when he was fifteen, so he’s knowledgeable and helpful as fuck. He doesn’t mind hard work and long hours.
“Not a new boss,” I reply sternly, crossing my arms. This feels like the first time I’ve ever spoken in an I’m the boss tone.
He follows me into the office. “Did you hire her? Why is she here?”
“Chris left her his share of the brewery.”
At this point, everyone will find out anyway. Might as well be honest about it. I don’t want anyone to think I hired Amelia out of the kindness of my heart. They need to be made aware that her being here is against my will.
Toby chuckles. Yes, the dude fucking chuckles. “This will be interesting.”
“No, it won’t.” I collapse into the chair behind the desk and level my palms on it. “I need you to be a dick to her, make her not want to work here.”
It’s an asshole thing to do—ask someone to be mean to Amelia. But a business owner has to do what a business owner has to do.
Toby shoves his wrinkled hands into his more wrinkled slacks. “I will not be impolite to a woman who recently lost the man she loved.” He shakes his head in disappointment, the way a man would to a child throwing a tantrum. “A man who was my friend and boss. Find someone else to do your dirty work.”
I glare at him. As much as I want to argue, I respect Toby. I admire the respect he has for Chris.
“May I speak freely?” he asks.
I make a have at it motion.
“I’d do the same thing for the woman I loved. I’d leave her the one other thing that I cared about.” He walks deeper into the office, standing only inches from the desk, and I’ve never seen him so solemn. “Who would you leave your half to?”
I frown. “I’m going to pass on giving hypotheticals if I die, man.”
He pushes his thin-framed glasses up his nose. “It’s good to know these things, Jax. If you died right now, who knows if Amelia would become the sole owner of this place?”
My eyes harden at him and the idea of that.
“But right now, she seems like a better boss than your grumpy ass.”
My mouth drops open. I’ve never heard Toby mutter a profanity before.
“I’m not grumpy,” I argue.
“You are grumpy.”
I lean back in the chair. “I lost my best friend and business partner.”
“True, but you were—”
“Were what?”
“You’re a great guy—a playboy, as one might say—but Jax, there has always been an emptiness inside you.” His attention stays fixed on me. “That’s the reason you overwork yourself. You don’t want to face whatever that emptiness is.”
“What are you now”—I rest my elbow on the arm of the chair—“a profiler?”
“You’ve never asked what I did in the military, now have you?” He arches a brow. He takes a seat in the chair and keeps his shoulders straight as he continues to analyze me.
I should stop him, but I’m interested in his words.
“I always thought Chris was blind,” he states. “To not see that something had happened between you and Amelia. The two of you played it off well. The more you pretended to hate each other, the more animosity there was between you.”
“I don’t like the chick,” I interrupt, no longer wanting to hear him spit facts.
“You have feelings for her.”
My head spins, like I drank as much as Amelia last night, and I avert my eyes away from Toby. Whatever reaction I’m giving, I don’t want him to witness it.
I swat my hand through the air and hate myself for glaring at an old-timer. “You’re fired. I can’t have an employee this batshit crazy.”
My warning doesn’t faze him, and he continues, “You mean, you don’t want an employee who points out the obvious?”
Did hating each other look worse than us being friends?
Would it have been easier if we’d gone the opposite route?
In the back of my mind, I figured no one could ever suspect something had happened between two people who despised each other so much. No one would question if I’d been intimate with a girl I ridiculed all the time.
“Think about it,” Toby says, proceeding to beat up my emotions. “Why do you hate each other? With how much you tried to push her away from Chris, it was obvious. Either you were in love with him or with her. And seeing you two yesterday, I’m guessing it’s most likely the latter.” He runs his hand through his gray beard. “Amelia doesn’t hide it as well as she thinks either, you know.”
“Amelia loved Chris,” I bite out, wanting to throw something.
To get up and leave.
To pull myself out of this conversation.
He nods in full agreement. “She did love him. There’s no denying that. But no matter what people say, you can love more than one person. Whether it be at different times in your life or at the same time, you can. I’ve seen her interact with Chris’s other friends, and trust me, boy, she’s never looked at them like she does you.”
“I need a drink,” I say, blowing out a stressed breath and wishing I’d never entertained this conversation with Toby in the first place.
“It’s nine in the morning.” He huffs before dragging himself to his feet.
“Exactly. You come in first thing in the morning, spitting out nonsense that Amelia and I have feelings for each other.” I stand from the chair and tighten my jacket around my chest. “Get back to work before I fire you.”
“Fine by me. I’ll just ask Amelia to rehire me.”
“My decisions outweigh Amelia’s.”
Toby turns and is staring at the open doorway, shaking his head. “No, I think Amelia has just as much say.” A smile takes over his face.
I stiffen when I look past Toby to find Amelia standing in the doorway. Her arms are crossed, a bag is slung over her shoulder, and she’s scowling at me.
“Yeah, Jaxson,” she says, “I have just as much say.”
An adrenaline rush shoots through me, and I ignore her. “How long has she been standing there, Toby?”
My ears ring as I await his answer, as if he were taking a year to reply.
“Not long,” Toby replies. “Just right after I said she’d rehire me.” He beams with pride.
I grind my teeth, seriously considering firing him. That thought doesn’t last long since it’d be almost impossible to run the brewery without him.
Toby tips his head toward Amelia, wishing her good morning, and disappears out of the office.
“You can have the day off,” I immediately tell her. Long breaths release from my chest when she comes closer.
“Toby is right, you know.” She drops her bag to the floor.
What exactly does she think he’s right about?
Was Toby lying when he said how long she’d been there?
My stomach churns, and my mouth turns dry. I don’t mutter a word.
“I have just as much say as you,” she finishes.
My heart slows, no longer thudding harshly against my chest at her having overheard our conversation.
I mimic her arm crossing and sit on the edge of the desk. “Toby said that to fuck with me. Don’t worry; he’ll be fired.”
“The last person you’re firing here is Toby.”
“True, and the first person is you.” I slide off the end of the desk and inch toward her. “You look like hell. Hungover. Like I said, take the day off.” I stand tall, and even though Amelia is on the taller side, she still has to look up to see me. “Or the week. Hell, take the entire fucking year off.”
Tension bleeds through the room. For so long, we’ve avoided being this close, and now, it’s becoming a daily occurrence.
Can we prevent it?
Yes.
We could do so much to avoid it, but for some reason, anytime we’re in the same place at the same time, we’re drawn to each other.
And the closer we are to each other, the heavier our breathing grows. The more she releases light whimpers. Whimpers I don’t think she realizes are coming from her full lips.
We’re so competitive with each other, neither of us wanting to be the first to pull away. But we don’t look at each other. My eyes are on the top of her head, and hers are on the tiled floor. When we speak, it’s like we’re talking to nobody but ourselves.
“I’m here to stay, Jaxson,” she hisses.
“No, you’re not.”
“Don’t make this difficult.”
“I will.”
“Act like I’m a normal partner. Someone you hardly know.”
“I can’t.”
“There was a time you didn’t hate me. Go back to that.”
“Briefly.” I clench my fist. “It’s hard to hate someone when they’re letting you stick your fingers inside them.”
I let out a grunt when an elbow plows into my stomach, and she pushes me away.
I expected her reaction, but damn, I didn’t think she had that much strength in her.
I right my balance, and my breathing is ragged when I adjust my gaze back on her. Her brown eyes stare at me with a mixture of pain and anger.
Am I proud of my response?
Not exactly.
But it caused her to back off.
To create the distance that we need.
She swats her hair away from her face and runs her hands over her cheeks. “Make a list of Christopher’s job responsibilities.” Her voice starts shaky, but she quickly gains control of it.
“Online marketing. You can do that from your laundry room.” I stalk to the doorway and motion for her to leave. “Good-bye.”
She shakes her head, nearly staring at me with repulsion. “I’m here, and if you don’t like it, that’s your problem. Not mine.” She strolls over to the desk. “I survived losing Chris. I think I can survive handling you.”
“If only he could’ve survived you.”
I hear a loud gasp, and I should’ve known not to let my guard down and look away. I fall back a step when something hits the side of my head, and a deep pain rumbles through my skull. It happened so fast that I don’t even know what was thrown at me. I don’t get the answer until I nearly trip over the stapler that fell at my feet.
I rub my head, searching for the right words to scream at her, while she acts indifferent. She snatches her bag, pulls out her laptop, and circles the desk. I blink, processing what the hell happened as she takes my abandoned seat. She props the laptop onto the desk and makes herself comfortable.
Ignoring the throbbing in my head, I ask, “What the fuck? You just assaulted me.”
“I need to work.” She signals toward the doorway. “You should go home and ice that. I’ll take over from here.”
“No, I need you to move out of my seat, so I can work.”
“Too bad. You move your feet, you lose your seat.”
“What are you, five?”
“Don’t insult me. My aim is more of a ten-year-old, thank you.”
“Oh, I’m not insulting you. I’m calling the cops on you.”