Chapter One
Reed
Daniel Sawyer was a major hard-ass.
He came into work each day with a hard exterior and a takes-no-shit attitude. Standing at six foot two and dressed in a tailored gray suit with his black hair short and his eyes glacier blue, he exuded authority, control, and gave off massive top energy.
I wanted to ride him.
Might be a challenge since he was my boss, though. Better to just admire from afar and pretend my cock didn’t get hard when I saw his icy gaze, square jaw, and impressively broad shoulders that I wanted to squeeze as I—
Okay, stop.
I cleared my throat before rapping my knuckles on the open door of his office. He looked at me over his left shoulder as he stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window beside his desk, talking to someone on his Bluetooth. After he motioned for me to come in, I stepped forward.
The material of his pants emphasized his muscled thighs, and my mouth fucking watered.
“We’ll be in touch,” Mr. Sawyer said to whoever was on the other end of the line, before he ended the call and faced me. “What is it?”
Short and to the point. He wasn’t known for small talk or even proper greetings for that matter. Conversation was business only. I had worked for him for a year and knew nothing about him other than how he liked his coffee and that he hated to be kept waiting.
Like he is now as I just stare at him like an idiot.
“I have the mock-up for the Henderson campaign,” I said, handing over the folder with the marketing team’s pitch. Jim Henderson was a new client who had hired our agency to help with the upcoming opening of his sports bar. “Meeting is scheduled for Wednesday at one o’clock.”
Daniel grabbed the folder and scanned the contents, nodding in approval. “Good.” He tossed it on his desk. “I have a meeting tomorrow morning in Birmingham with a potential client. I need you to make travel arrangements for me.”
That must’ve been who he’d been talking to when I’d walked in.
“Yes, sir.”
“That’s all.” He sat down at his desk and faced his computer without another word to me.
I had been dismissed. But I was used to it.
For the rest of the day, I prepared expense reports from the previous week, looked over the next month’s budget, then did inventory on office supplies, ordered Daniel’s lunch and secured his travel plans, and organized his calendar. As the assistant to the vice president of marketing, my job covered a variety of administrative tasks as well as accounting duties, scheduling, and creating PowerPoint presentations for budget meetings and about a million other things.
I was always on the go. Better than being bored, though.
The heater was cranked on as high as it would go as I left work around six and drove home. I wasn’t a winter creature. I loved the sun, fruity cocktails while lying on the beach, and watching all the smoking hot men walk around with their shirts off. Not this shit: bone-chilling cold air with even colder gusts of wind. Which was funny since I lived in one of the rainiest places in the freaking country where winters were so cold it felt like my face was falling off in chunks of ice.
At least it’s not snowing.
Christmas lights blinked on top of houses, and lit-up trees glowed in people’s front windows. It was that weird week between Christmas and New Year’s where the days jumbled together and you tried to recover from eating too much. I had spent the holiday with Quinn, Monty, and Brian—Quinn’s dad, who was basically like my dad too—and it had been really nice. But I’m pretty sure I gained like five pounds because of all the desserts.
More insulation for the cold weather, I thought with a snort. I liked looking on the bright side.
When I got home, I flipped on the living room light and shrugged out of my heavy coat. I didn’t make a fortune as an administrative assistant, but I did well for myself. Enough to rent a nice two-bedroom home with a waterfront view and privacy. The light color scheme on the walls and the modern-styled furniture, along with the open floor plan, made everything feel bright and spacious. Not exactly homey, though.
Now, Quinn’s house was homey. It was filled with books, art, oversized chairs he’d gotten from secondhand furniture stores but still had a ton of charm, and historical artifact replicas to make his history nerd heart happy. He also had love.
Monty, his boyfriend and former high school bully, had moved in with him beginning of December. Each time I saw them, they were poking fun at each other and bantering, but behind the taunts and laughs, there was so much love.
I liked to believe they were soul mates. Even when Monty had bullied Quinn in school, both of them were drawn to each other. Connected by something neither one could explain.
“Speak of the devil,” I answered my phone after it buzzed.
“You were talking about me?” Quinn asked.
“No, but I was thinking of you. Close enough. What’s up?”
“Get your ass over here for dinner,” Monty said from the background.
Quinn chuckled in my ear, and I heard a faint slap as he muttered, “You ass.” Then he said to me, “Do you want to have dinner with us? I’m cooking chicken alfredo. Dad’s coming over too.”
I wasn’t looking forward to getting back out in the cold, but staying in an empty house was even less appealing.
“Sure,” I responded. “I’d love to. Want me to bring anything?”
“Some wine, if you want.”
“I’ll be there in a few.”
After disconnecting the call, I bundled back up in my coat and threw on a scarf before leaving the house and driving to Quinn’s place. He lived in a quiet neighborhood with older homes, and his house was the last one on the street with a huge fenced-in backyard and a ton of trees. I parked in the driveway behind Monty’s truck and jogged toward the front porch, the two wine bottles clanking together in the bag.
“Hey,” Monty said after opening the door and letting me inside. He wore a red shirt that read Spartan Strong, and it had a stick person holding a sword below it. It looked like one of Quinn’s shirts.
“Hey, yourself.” I stepped into the house and shivered at the sudden shift of cold air to warm.
“Here, let me take that.” Monty grabbed the bag of wine from me.
“Why are you being so nice?”
“Pfft. I’m always nice.” Monty tossed me a smirk before walking toward the kitchen. I followed behind him, inhaling the aroma of chicken and spices. He placed the wine on the counter. “Ain’t that right, Specks?”
Quinn glanced over at us from his place at the stove. “Hmm?”
Monty approached him from behind and slid an arm around his chest, resting his face on Quinn’s nape. “I’m nice, right?”
“Only when you want something,” Quinn answered without missing a beat.
Monty grinned before kissing Quinn’s neck and stepping away.
A weird ache formed in my chest at seeing their intimacy. Part of it was jealousy. Quinn had been my best friend since elementary school. It was hard stepping aside and sharing him with someone. I was kind of a selfish bitch in that regard. Good thing I liked Monty.
The other reason? I wanted what they had—romance, commitment. Every guy I dated ended up screwing me over or not sticking around long enough to screw me over. After a while, it made me think maybe the problem was me.