“I’m not inviting Kennedy over right now.” She’d never let me live this down. Plus she’d wonder why I was living in this weird apartment with Tanner instead of at my own house. A whole restaurant already thought we were gay after that kiss. I didn’t want a fake relationship with Tanner to be in the tabloids next.
“Wow,” said a petite brunette as she walked into the kitchen. She ran her hand along the granite countertops. “This place is amazing. I would die to cook in this kitchen.”
“What would you make?” Tanner asked, resting his elbows on the counter, staring at her.
“Hmm…” she said with a seductive smile. “Homemade whipped cream perhaps?”
“And what would you do with whipped cream when you have nothing to put it on?”
“I could think of a few things to put it on.”
Tanner pulled her close. “Is that so?”
She laughed.
I cleared my throat.
The girl screamed. “I didn’t realize anyone else was here.” Her face turned bright red.
“Ignore him,” Tanner said. “He was just retiring for the evening. Right, Matt?” He nodded toward the hall, trying to tell me to get lost, not at all subtly.
It was for the best. I probably needed to be alone with my stupid raging boner. “Yup,” I said, making a mental note to not eat anything that ever touched that counter. Because they were 100% about to have sex in this kitchen. “Night.”
“Night,” Tanner said to me and then looked back at his date. “Now where were we?” He lifted her up on the counter.
Yup, that kitchen was disgusting. I wandered down the hall. There was a Post-it note on my bedroom door.
Meet me at the pool.
Yours,
-Nigel
What the hell was that weird little man even talking about? There was no pool in Tanner’s apartment. And I wasn’t about to wander around One57 with a boner. I went to open up my door, only to realize that there was a second Post-it note where the first had been.
Two doors down on the left. I have news.
Yours,
-Nigel
What the…? I looked down the hall. There was no way this place was big enough for a pool. It wasn’t possible. I walked down the hall and opened the door Nigel had directed me to. And sure enough, there was a pool. Nigel was floating in the middle of it, wearing his butler outfit, sipping on some drink with an umbrella in it.
“Um…Nigel?” I said.
“Ah, Mr. Caldwell, I’m glad you found it. Join me.” He gestured to a float beside him.
This should have felt safer than him staring at me in a bath. But somehow it felt even worse. I was still holding ice on my junk. He had to see it was weird to request for me to get in this pool when I’d consumed who knew how many boner pills. “I’m good.”
Nigel sighed and slowly paddled over to me, keeping his drink steady. “I have bad news, Mr. Caldwell. Well, possibly good depending on what you think of it. I think it’s a positive.”
“What’s the news?”
“My schedule is booked solid for two months. So I’m afraid it will be some time before I can assist you with your move.”
Two months? “You’re literally relaxing in a pool right now.”
“Scheduled-in relaxation.” He pulled out a notebook I hadn’t seen a minute ago. “I’m allowed one minute of relaxation for every minute served. But that includes sleeping. So it really cuts into my free time. And I’m not very pleasant unless I get my R&R in.” He skipped a few pages. “And now that I’m looking closer, it might be more like three months. I’ll schedule you in for sometime after the new year.”
“Nigel…I need to move back home.”
“Are you not comfortable here?”
“No, that’s not it.” It’s partially it. “This isn’t my home.”
“I’ll do better.”
“Nigel, it has nothing to do with you.”
He blinked at me. “Is it about the meat in your lunch? You never texted me to say whether or not you liked it.”
“No. I mean, yes, the meat is fine. But no, it’s not about that.”
“Do you have a specific thing I can do to make your time more comfortable here?”
I sighed. “I’ll just hire movers. Don’t worry about it.”
Nigel shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t approve that. Master Tanner is very specific about what company is allowed into his home.”
“He literally has a different girl here every night.”
“And I vet them before they’re allowed up.”
“Then you can vet my movers.”
“Vetting Master Tanner’s mistresses is in my schedule.” He jabbed a page with his finger. “Vetting big strong movers is not. I can schedule your mover vetting for January as well, if that is what you’d prefer. But I wouldn’t trust movers with all your personal possessions. It would be best if I did it for you.”
“In January?”
“Yes. Speaking of which, do you prefer a traditional Thanksgiving feast? Or more of a modern one?”
“I honestly have no idea what that means.”
“Modern it is. I’m so excited to spend the holidays with you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m late for drawing you a bath.”
“Nigel, I don’t celebrate Thanksgiving.”
He stopped. “What do you mean you don’t celebrate Thanksgiving? It’s a treasured American tradition.”
“I just…don’t.” I hadn’t since Brooklyn died. I always spent the day alone. I didn’t want a traditional or modern thanksgiving. My stomach churned. But what would Kennedy think about that? I took a deep breath. “Actually, put me down for two for a modern Thanksgiving meal.”
“You’re inviting a friend, Mr. Caldwell?”
“Yup.”
Nigel stared at me. “I’ll see what I can do. The guest list is already extensive. And there’s only so much room at the table.”
“You mean that huge dining room table?”
“It’s smaller today. I removed some leaves.”
“Then you can add them back.”
He lifted up his notebook. “Not until January. I’ll go draw your bath. Do you want another ice pack?”
“I’m good.”
He bowed and ran away.
So strange. I pulled out my phone as I made my way back to my room. There was a text from Kennedy: “What’s the dress code for tomorrow? I don’t want to embarrass myself on our first official date.”
I smiled and texted her back. “Business casual.”
“Are you taking me to an office event?”
“I’m kidding. Casual. Super casual. But not slippers casual.”
“You needed me. I didn’t have time to change. And my slippers are adorable.”
I laughed. “They really are.”
“Good. I’ll wear them then.”
“Are you wearing them right now?”
She didn’t write me back right away. Fuck. Why had I asked her that? She was going to think I was a pervert. I shifted the ice pack on my boner. It wasn’t my fault that I was drugged. But right before I set my phone down on my nightstand, another text came through.