Cheater

  The celebratory Hey, you got a job! plant my parents had given me—also the first one I’d managed to keep alive—fell out of my hands from the bluntness of the shove.

  My cubicle partner cried.

  It had been a sad day for everyone.

  Now a pregnant lady was supposed to be showing me the ropes for my new internship position under one of the VPs of the company. Her name was Sharon . . . or maybe Sharie? I’d been so flipping nervous when she’d introduced herself that I couldn’t remember which it was. Anyway, she was saying words I didn’t understand and looked about two minutes away from popping. It was a miserable start, and she didn’t have much time to train me on all my actual duties and responsibilities.

  Her giant belly had grazed the front of the desk as she made her way around to me. “Look, Avery, it’s not that hard. You get coffee, you fix the copy machine, and you make sure his dry cleaning is delivered every morning. He’s one of the easiest of the VPs to work with. Hell, most days he gets his own damn dry cleaning and brings me coffee, so believe me when I say you’ll be just fine. You’ll work closely with him on every project.” She let out a rough exhale. “And at the end of the eight-week internship, he’ll grade you on your work. If you do well, you’ll get offered a permanent position.” Her face contorted a bit as she bent over and gripped the counter.

  Oh my hell.

  Was she going into labor?

  Now?

  In the office?

  I didn’t know CPR.

  Not that she would need CPR, or that the baby would. Ahh! I was a nervous wreck. “Are you okay?”

  I patted her awkwardly on the back.

  She quickly straightened and let out a little sigh. “The baby’s trying to move, and space is limited in there.”

  “You don’t say.” I smiled through my teeth. The woman was tiny; I was surprised she’d made it this far without popping. “Are you having twins?”

  Her glare said it all.

  “I was kidding,” I said quickly.

  “Don’t lie,” she fired back. “Now, I’d like to enjoy the rest of my leave in peace, so if you have any questions you can always ask Lucas.”

  “Lucas?” I tried to keep the shudder to myself. I hated that name. It conjured up images of complete and utter loathing, and I almost always associated the name with the horrible things in life, like Ebola. Actually, the two things were interchangeable, Lucas and Ebola.

  “Your boss.” She rolled her eyes. “Tell me you at least know who you’re working for.”

  No. Because when the job agency called and said that Grant Learning had an opening in their paid internship program, I jumped at it as fast as I could. The only thing I did was a quick Google search about the company.

  I was desperate and needed the money so I could pay rent and stave off homelessness and starvation.

  Okay, so it wasn’t that bad, but it was close. And the last thing I wanted to do was move back home. My family lived in Marysville, and because I’d lived in downtown Seattle for several months, the thought of going home to that had me ready to walk the streets handing out my résumé.

  I was quite possibly willing to sleep with a creepy old man to get a job.

  So maybe not creepy.

  Old?

  Maybe.

  My mom would kill me if she could hear my thoughts right now.

  But my parents had this nasty habit of oversharing every single detail about their lives, and they expected me to return the favor. When my dad got a hangnail last week, he texted me a picture of it and asked if he should go to a doctor.

  When I didn’t answer, he texted the pic again with the message: I don’t think you got this.

  The good news? The picture was bigger that time.

  My parents were—special.

  And my bedroom? Still filled with stuffed animals from my childhood, and with plush pink carpeting.

  Sometimes I had nightmares of returning to that room as a grown adult. My dolls came to life and choked me to death while I screamed for help, only to have the captain of the football team, now with a beer gut, tell me he’d only save me if I married him and had ten children.

  He’d tried to reconnect with me over Facebook.

  And then Snapchat.

  He was nice.

  So nice he now made impromptu visits in my nightmares.

  The very idea of having to go back home after I had been hired right out of college with a killer salary and an amazing job title—it burned.

  The fact that I was starting back at the bottom?

  Made me want to strangle something.

  This internship was everything. Going home was not an option. And “failure”? Well, that wasn’t a word I was familiar with.

  “Alright.” Sharon, Shannon, Sharie, whatever . . . clasped her hands together. “He just texted that he’s on his way in. Apparently, he had some sort of meeting that I didn’t have on my normal calendar.”

  I shrugged; the guy had more than one calendar? Well, he was a VP, so I guess it made sense.

  “Oh, and . . .” She slammed a hand against her forehead. “Don’t become one of the girls. If he asks, say no. You listened to those drug talks in school, right? Or the really important ones about not joining gangs and falling to peer pressure?”

  “I was homeschooled.”

  Her mouth dropped open, and a chewed wad of pink gum plopped onto the table before she could stop it.

  I pointed with my pencil. “I think that’s yours, and I was kidding.”

  “Oh thank God!” She fanned herself as if my being homeschooled was the equivalent of being in a cult. “Is it hot? I feel hot.” She looked from left to right as though she was a few seconds from launching herself toward the closest window.

  Well, she was growing a human. Hell, what did I know? I’d probably be roasting. “You can go.” I stood and ushered her out. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  “Just”—she wagged a finger at me—“if he talks about you becoming one of his girls, say no. Curiosity kills the cat and all that. Besides, he’s your boss, so no sleeping your way up. Not only would that kill your chances with the intern program, but he reviews you in the end. You want to be reviewed on your actual performance.” She blushed. “In the office.”

  I wasn’t sure if I should be offended or scandalized. By the time she left, the office was just starting to buzz with excitement.

  The job was nine to five Monday through Friday and sounded pretty easy. From what I could tell, the company basically ran itself. The department I worked for was in charge of reaching out to local schools and helping assign tutors to kids who needed them. The company was a private learning and tutoring center that had franchises all over the country.

  Grant Learning helped high school students with college prep and testing, but its niche, it seemed, was helping elementary students with phonics and reading.

  I might have had too much wine the night I looked up the company because some of the testimonials made me cry. It was astonishing how many kids couldn’t read and how many of them were just passed through the system because schools were overcrowded.

  I sat down at my desk and made sure that I had all the passwords I’d need where I could grab them.

  A few curious people walked by.

  One dropped some papers on my desk and marched off.

  Maybe that was my cue?

  I grabbed the stack and shrugged. The papers had my boss’s first name on them, and I did remember that . . . Sharon—Or Sharie? Ugh, I really needed to get her name—had mentioned that it was okay to drop off stuff for Lucas in his office.

  And since he wasn’t there yet, it couldn’t hurt to get an early start.

  I walked the few feet into his corner office. Geez, I figured VP of marketing and outreach must pay well. His office was more like a studio apartment; he had a conference table in the corner, a plush black-leather couch, and a small bar near the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking downtown Seattle.

  I was ju
st ready to drop the papers on his desk when a smooth, velvety voice asked, “May I help you?”

  My gaze lowered to his desk, I don’t know why. Maybe because I felt guilty for standing there gaping at the awesomeness that was his office, but a picture on his desk caught my eye.

  The angle was off—I couldn’t quite catch the face, but it looked familiar.

  “Miss?” he said.

  With a sigh, I quickly turned around and said the first thing that came to mind when one lays eyes on Lucas Thorn, the one who shall not be named. “Oh, hell no.”

  Chapter Three

  LUCAS

  She looked nothing like her two sisters, but I’d have recognized her strawberry-blonde hair anywhere.

  After all, I’d had to cut gum out of it more times than I wanted to count.

  I’d put Band-Aids on her scraped knees.

  I’d hugged her when her date for homecoming dumped her because she wouldn’t put out.

  But it was her expression on the eve of my ill-fated marriage to her oldest sister, Kayla, that I remembered most. The one that said I was no longer her hero and, in the span of minutes, I’d turned into the villain people always suspected I was. Because no one ever believed that the star quarterback, who had simultaneously lost his virginity with the girl he was going to marry, was going to stay true to his first love his whole life. But I was dedicated, loyal to Kayla. I loved her, she was my friend, and we’d been inseparable throughout high school. And when I finally fell—it was epic and expected because how was it possible that I was actually such a good guy? I’d always been considered a “golden boy.” People told me I was attractive, charming, a natural leader. Really, I had nowhere to go but down. But what sucked about falling from the pedestal I was put on was that nobody, and I do mean nobody, was there to catch me. They were all too busy saying “I told you he was too good to be true.”

  My own parents abandoned me after that night.

  Oh, they still called.

  We visited when it was absolutely necessary.

  But our relationship was so damn strained, it hurt to even think about it. I’d “ruined” their lifelong friendship with the Blacks. And it sure didn’t help that my sister was Kayla’s best friend.

  Her eyes, those green eyes, were the last thing I’d seen when I walked away.

  And at night.

  They haunted me still.

  I swallowed past some dryness in my throat as I waited for her to say something that wasn’t a four-letter word.

  “You done?” My eyebrows shot up. “Because I’m getting a late start this morning, and the last thing I need is to sit here and have an impromptu therapy session.”

  Avery glared at me, crossing her arms, making me want to choke on my tongue as her breasts strained against a simple black V-neck blouse that was tucked into leather pants. Her open-toed high heels were blue, making me think of how much bruising one of those shoes might be capable of if she whipped it off and beat me with it.

  Her toenails were painted black.

  Why the hell was I looking at her toes?

  I’d left Marysville right before she started college—and believe me, back then she’d looked nothing like she did now. She’d still been a slim high schooler. Now she was all woman. Shit.

  I quickly sidestepped her and made my way to my desk. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  Her eyes darted between me and the door like she was going to make a run for it, but then her shoulders slumped. “I got laid off from the last company I was with—they grew too fast, let the young ones go—and my parents gave me exactly two months to find a new job or else they’d force me to move home, into my old bedroom, which just so happens to be next to my sister’s bedroom. You remember the one?”

  I opened my mouth to speak.

  She wasn’t going to let me. “I mean, of course you do, Lucas.” She said my name like a curse. “It was the same room you stumbled into. I think the bed was replaced, or if I remember correctly, burned while Grandpa made us swear over a Bible never to utter your name again in his presence lest our souls go to hell.”

  “Avery—”

  “Yup, I’d be next door to that.” Her eyes narrowed. “So I took this internship, but believe me when I say I think I’d rather face starvation than work for such a jackass.” She gulped. “Even if my future career is in your dirty little hands.”

  I grinned. “Are you done?”

  “No.” She huffed, crossed her arms again, then sighed. “Maybe.” Her green eyes narrowed. “I have more mean things to say, but I’m saving them for later.”

  “So much to look forward to,” I said dryly. “Look, I can keep this professional if you can. It’s the least I can do to keep you from starving your ass off.” I peered around the desk and checked her out. “Because that really would be a shame.”

  With a gasp, she pointed her finger at me. Damn, she was still a little spitfire—I thought I’d like getting scolded by her. “Listen here, you—you whore of a man!”

  “That’s the best you can come up with? Really?” My grin widened at her nervous hand gestures. Either she was trying to flip me off or she was batting away flying spiders.

  “Keep it in your pants!” She huffed once more. “And if you ever check me out again, I’m going to staple your—your penis”—fiery red crept into her cheeks—“to your desk and pull the fire alarm!”

  “The threat would work better if you could actually say ‘penis’ without blushing. You can’t even say it, let alone touch one, can you?”

  “You’re a bad man.” She licked her lips about a billion times before turning around in a full circle, locating the door, and stomping out of my office.

  Avery Black.

  Well, I’d be damned.

  My smirk was still present when I leaned back in my chair a few minutes later, trying not to stare at the girl who’d most definitely filled out and turned into a woman.

  I was ten years older than her.

  She’d been the surprise of her parents’ lives, and up until four years ago, I’d all but thought of her as my little sister.

  Until I didn’t.

  My chest sliced with pain as I shoved the memories back into the recesses of my mind. They didn’t matter anymore.

  In fact, my greatest mistake ended up being my greatest accomplishment.

  By sleeping with the wrong sister, I’d done everyone a favor.

  I would have never made Kayla happy. She was the type of girl who lived in the same house her whole life, married some sort of football coach, had four kids, drank wine on special occasions, and got a mom haircut because it was easy.

  At one point, I thought I wanted that.

  That life.

  Maybe that’s why I’d gotten so damn drunk out of my mind that night. I knew I would ruin Kayla if I went through with our marriage because the relationship was no longer about her, and it hadn’t been for a while.

  I just didn’t expect my own ruin to happen so swiftly.

  I’d always been smarter than that when it came to women.

  Or so I thought.

  A nagging feeling made me want to scratch at my chest where my heart should have been. I ignored it. Like I ignored every single memory of that night. It was all too painful, too stupid, and honestly, it was what had propelled me into the perfect life—so why start thinking about my one regret?

  Or the girl responsible for it?

  “Are you going to answer that?” Avery was back in my office, cheeks flushed as she pointed at my phone. “It’s literally been ringing for the past five minutes.”

  “Exaggeration. It would have gone to voice mail,” I said in a bored voice. “Now, why don’t you go do a coffee run?”

  She frowned. I could tell she wanted to argue, but I was her boss, so I pointed to the door and waited for her to leave.

  With a long sigh, she turned around and left, only to then walk backward toward my office and call over her shoulder, “Still drink macchiatos?”

&nb
sp; “Yeah.” I was too surprised that she’d remembered to elaborate.

  She gave a quick nod and started walking out the door again, only to come back, still refusing to make eye contact, and hold out her hand.

  “Cash.” She coughed. “Remember? Almost homeless? Starving?”

  “You never said ‘homeless.’”

  “I have to survive off my severance for the next few weeks. That includes rent, food, and any sort of transportation to the office.”

  I dug into my pocket and pulled out a hundred. “Then keep the change.”

  She hesitated, staring at Benjamin Franklin’s face like the money was a moral dilemma rather than me just doing something nice, as her boss, as her ex-friend.

  “Nope.” She licked her lips. “I’ll bring back your bribe money. Don’t worry. I’ll count your change to the very cent. In fact, I should ask for nothing but pennies.”

  I drowned out her incessant chatter and grabbed my phone.

  Jess had called twice.

  Damn, they always had regrets.

  I quickly texted her to say she had done the right thing. Hell, I had every woman pegged. Like I was a freaking mind reader.

  She didn’t miss me.

  She missed the idea of me.

  Jess: I didn’t realize how lonely being alone was. How do I even start dating again after you?

  Me: It’s natural to be nervous. Why don’t you try happy hour and see how that goes? You’re a great woman.

  Just not my woman.

  After sending the text, I followed up with another text saying lamely that I had to go to a meeting and was running late.

  I didn’t and I wasn’t.

  But she didn’t know that.

  In fact, other than reading the marketing reports from each school we’d just done outreach with, I had shit to do until Monday.

  But it was Friday.

  And I no longer had a girl to take home.

  Or a girl to go home to.

  Jess had loved cooking, so every Friday night I’d go to her house. We’d eat, drink, have amazing sex, and I’d leave in the middle of the night. It worked perfectly.

  Except now—now I was irritated.