“I bet he’s a total twat and not even half as hot as you are,” I tell him honestly, which has his lips lifting in an almost smile.
“I bet he’s rich,” Nash replies. “Which is apparently more important to her than looks or personality.”
“And he’s probably convinced himself that she loves him, even though she doesn’t, not really. She’s just using him,” I mutter to myself.
“Poor fool.”
“Don’t feel bad for him. He doesn’t deserve it,” I say.
“So, you think he knew she was married when they started seeing each other?”
“Absolutely. Fuck them both.”
“Fuck them both,” Nash agrees, holding out his nearly empty glass for me to clink with mine.
For a moment, I think we’re actually making progress, becoming friends and helping him get over his ex. But then Nash gets up from the table, takes his glass to the sink and then pulls out a bottle of Heineken from the fridge even though it’s not even noon.
Standing up to gather up our plates to clear the table, I sigh heavily and tell him, “Nothing good ever comes to alcoholics.”
“I’m okay with that,” he replies before he heads for the sofa and plops down on it like he’s not planning to leave anytime soon.
Chapter Six
Nash
* * *
After a distraught Tinker Bell finally leaves my apartment, looking like a sad puppy dog because I’m drinking before lunchtime, I grab my phone and call Malcolm.
“Yeah,” he answers.
“You could’ve warned me that you recruited my high-strung neighbor to annoy me before I woke up and found her about to burn down the building. I’m guessing you gave her my key.”
“I did,” Malcolm agrees. “How are you feeling?”
“Better, I guess. She cleaned my apartment and made me shower before I could eat. Then, we had breakfast together, and she somehow got me talking about my feelings.”
“No shit?” he replies with a bark of laughter.
“It’s not funny!”
“Sure, it is. And don’t act like you don’t appreciate the company. I would be there giving you hell if I didn’t have an MC and businesses to run because my right-hand man is fucking MIA.”
“Sorry,” I tell him. “I just needed a break from everything.”
“I get it,” Malcolm says. “Just don’t take too long.”
“I won’t,” I promise him.
“And be nice to Lucy. The girl hasn’t had it easy.”
“How would you know?” I ask him.
“I just do,” he replies. “Which is why I have to say it – don’t even think about fucking her.”
That comment catches me off-guard since Malcolm would usually encourage me to screw anything that walks if it means ending my three years of celibacy. In fact, I assumed that was what he had in mind by hiring her after he mentioned having her come up to my apartment and blow me.
“I’m not thinking about that,” I reply, and it’s mostly the truth. There were just a few seconds this morning when I imagined fucking her mouth to shut her up. That doesn’t really count, though. “She’s not my type. You know I’ve never been into obnoxious, pocket-size girls.”
“Good. I’m paying her to cook and clean, not to be your blow-up doll.”
“I find it hard to believe that you’re paying her for anything, you cheap bastard.”
“Hell, me too,” he agrees. “Listen, I’ve got to get back to work. Take care of yourself, and keep your dick out of Lucy!”
“Fuck, I will!” I agree before we both end the call, not knowing what the hell that was about.
Unless…Malcolm is trying to use some form of reverse psychology on me. Does he really think that telling me not to sleep with a girl will make me want to sleep with her?
He’s out of his mind if so, because I will never see Lucy like that. She’s just too innocent looking for me to even consider getting naked with her. And while her shirt was too baggy over her leggings to see much of her body, I’m guessing it’s just as girly as the rest of her, probably with no rack and not the slightest jiggle in her ass. My type has always been tall, pretty blondes who are stacked, not skinny little girls with no meat on their bones, so delicate you could accidentally snap them like a twig if the fucking gets too rough. And honestly, the only kind of fucking that’s good is the one that breaks furniture or leaves holes in the wall.
It’s been so long that I’ve forgotten how fun and destructive sex could be.
Maybe it really is time for me to get back out there and start dating again.
Nah, women are too much work. Besides, I can’t even think about getting naked with anyone until I can look in the mirror without hating what I see.
Lucy
* * *
The next morning, I was hoping for a repeat of the day before. I would tidy up Nash’s place while he slept in; then I would cook us some waffles, and boom, he’d wake up, we’d eat together and have another deep conversation.
Instead, he slept through the cleaning and the waffles. I was too disappointed to wake him up, so I waited around in his apartment watching game shows on his television until almost noon, then left a note on the fridge, and slipped out the door.
On my way down the stairs, I nearly ran head-first into a woman carrying a plate covered in aluminum foil, about the size of a small mountain.
“Oh my god! I’m sorry!” I apologize. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“No, it’s my fault. I wasn’t paying attention,” she says, balancing the plate in one hand to run her fingers through her beautiful, multi-colored hair. “Too much on my mind.”
“I know how that is,” I reply. “Well, have a good day.”
“You too,” she says with a smile before she continues up the remaining steps and I hear her knocking on a door.
Glancing over my shoulder like the nosy person I am, I see her waiting outside Nash’s apartment.
I thought he hadn’t slept with anyone in years? That was such bullshit. And I’m not jealous. Nope, not even a smidge. I just want to slam the pretty girl’s face into his door and rip out her gorgeous hair.
Swallowing down those dark thoughts, I blurt out, “He’s, um, he’s still asleep.”
“Ah, who is asleep?”
“Nash.”
“Oh. You know Nash?” she asks, pointing at his door in surprise, and I can’t help but wonder who she is. One of his admirers trying to get in his pants now that he’s officially divorced maybe…
“Yeah, I do. I live down below him.”
“Oh, okay.”
“I have a key to his apartment,” I brag just a little when I hold it up between my fingers. “Do you want me to let you in?”
“No, not if he’s sleeping. I was just bringing him some brownies. Want one?” She holds out the plate toward me, and I immediately know how Snow White felt when confronted by a witch. I can’t resist chocolate, even from the girl trying to bang the hottest man ever.