“What the hell are these?” Dottie’s shrill voice calls as she comes out of my bedroom with a purple G-string dangling from her little finger.
I shrug. “No idea.”
Her face twists in disgust. “They were under your bed. What do you mean you have no idea?”
Her tone is accusatory, but I really have no clue. I haven’t had a woman here in weeks, and just with that thought alone, my cock aches in a silent plea for relief. I realize I haven’t gotten any since Emery moved in. That strikes me as odd, and I have no explanation for it. Realizing that Dottie is still talking to me, I blink away the thoughts.
She gives me a reproving look. “Nice girls don’t wear the kind of panties I find in your bed. Crotchless G-strings are for strippers and bad girls. I want you to settle down with a good girl, Hayden,” she says, tossing the panties into the garbage like they’re diseased.
“I know you do, Dottie, and I appreciate that.”
Dottie comes three times a week to clean up, do laundry, cook, pick up my dry cleaning, and run errands. She’s sixty, but with more energy than the Energizer Bunny. She keeps my life running smoothly. I don’t want to do anything to piss her off, so I usually nod and smile at whatever piece of wisdom she’s offering up. But today, I’m stuck trying to figure out who those undies can possibly belong to.
I cross the room to where Dottie is wiping down the countertop. “I’ve got to run. Don’t stay too late.” I press a kiss to her cheek. She’s like a second mother to me, and even if I do write her paycheck, her concern and care for me always feel genuine.
She shoos me away. “I’ll stay until I’m happy that everything’s done. Have fun.”
I nod, grabbing my keys. I’m meeting Hudson for some beers. It’s been too long since we’ve hung out just as friends, without the worry of work hanging between us.
I head to The Avenue, a bar that’s become a regular meet-up spot for us. It’s on the edge of downtown about halfway between where he and I live, and it has an upscale feel without being swanky. The drinks are always cold, and the food is good too. When I pull into the parking lot, I spot his luxury SUV right away. Strolling inside, I find the coolness of the air-conditioning is welcome against my skin.
He’s sitting at the bar with a bottle of beer already in his hand and another waiting for me in front of the stool next to him. God bless America.
“Hey, buddy, how’ve you been?” I say, sliding onto the bar stool next to him.
He raises his bottle and clinks it to mine. “Life’s been pretty damn good lately. I haven’t had any angry tenants to deal with.”
I smirk at him. “I’m following through. You didn’t doubt me, did you?”
His eyebrows jump up. “Fuck yeah, I did. Especially when you started hanging out with the hot-as-fuck new girl.”
“Emery,” I remind him. “And we’re still hanging out.”
“No shit? As friends, huh?”
I nod, taking a sip of my beer and feeling oddly proud. “We’ve been out to eat, and worked out a couple times together.” He doesn’t need to know it was yoga. That would just be weird.
“I’m impressed, dude. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Yup. Strictly platonic.”
Except last weekend when I hugged her good-bye and got a huge erection that was impossible to hide. Emery even called me out—asking me to explain myself. I lied and said it was nothing, and I swear the flash of disappointment across her face almost killed me. I wanted to tell her right then and there how insanely attracted to her I was, how beautiful she looked that day in her casual clothes, hanging out with my family.
“So where have you been getting your good time?” Hudson looks genuinely confused.
“I’m on a bit of a dry spell,” I admit. “You’ve thrown off my game.” I jab him in the ribs before taking another swig of my beer to try to forget all about that encounter with Emery.
He shakes his head at me. “Don’t blame this on me. Maybe you have real feelings for this one. That could be a good thing. Get you back up on the horse, so to speak.”
“No, it’s not like that between us. Emery’s sworn off men, and you know I’m sure as shit not looking for a relationship.”
“Yes, but I’m saying maybe it’s time to move on. Grow up a little.” His gaze abandons the TV and swings over to mine. “Have you ever been really into a chick? You know, the big L-word?”
“Are you trying to ask me if I’ve ever been in love with a woman before?”
He nods. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“Sure,” I say.
Hudson levels me with that dark, intense stare of his.
“What?” My tone is both playful and defensive. This really isn’t something I want to discuss. I’d rather be talking about work, anything other than the state of my love life.
“I’m not buying it, Oliver. You’re so damn closed off from anything real, it’s not even funny. After Naomi—”
I shut him up with a wave of my hand. “Forget Naomi. I was close to a girl once. She let out a loud, thunderous fart in her sleep, and that was it. I ended things after that.”
“You broke up with a girl for farting?”
“Indeed,” I confirm.
“That wasn’t love, then.”
“How do you know? Kelsey . . . or was it Kerrie? Anyway, she was sweet and funny, and she made a hell of a ham sandwich.”
Hudson shakes his head. “Because when you’re in love, and your woman feels comfortable enough to do that in front of you, you’ll think it’s cute.”
“I’ll think farting is cute? Not a chance in hell.” Women don’t shit, or fart, or belch as far as I’m concerned. And Hudson’s lost his damn mind.
“Trust me on this one.”
I don’t trust him any farther than I can throw him—and considering he clears six foot two and is solid muscle, it wouldn’t be very damn far.
“You been seeing anyone interesting lately?” I ask.
Hudson doesn’t sleep around with our tenants, like I used to enjoy before he abruptly put a stop to that, but he definitely gets his fair share of pussy. Not that I’m overly interested; I’m just eager to steer the conversation to his love life and away from mine.
“How’s your sister?” he asks out of the blue.
“Beth’s doing the supermom thing. Same old.”
“No, I meant Gracie.” His eyes dart away from mine, as if there’s something he doesn’t want me to see. I try not to read too much into it. Hudson would never betray me by going after my sister. Plus, he’s too busy fucking his way through the female population, one leggy blonde at a time. Which Gracie is most definitely not.
I shrug. “Gracie’s Gracie.” She’s always been my innocent little sister. It’s crazy to think she’s twenty-two now and just graduated from college.
Hudson nods once, effectively ending that weird conversation. Okay then.
Chapter Twelve
Emery
As the weeks pass and my bar exam looms closer, I ramp up my studying. But I still find spare hours here and there to spend with Hayden. He fully lives up to his promise to show me around the city. We explore not only the typical tourist stuff, like the Walk of Fame and the La Brea tar pits, but all the hidden gems that he’s learned about from his years in Los Angeles. My earlier anxieties soon melt away, leaving me upbeat when I’m around him and optimistic when I’m away. Everything has turned out fine; this friendship is totally working. I’m glad I didn’t listen to Roxy after all.
Early one Wednesday, when all the law staff file into the conference room for our weekly meeting, Mr. Pratt is already standing at the head of the table. He starts strolling around like he’s King Arthur surveying his knights. “I want to thank you for all your hard work these past two months. We met not only a tough deadline, but the high standards of quality that Walker, Price, and Pratt is known for. We have a reputation among the best corporate law firms, and I can honestly say that you’ve lived up to it . . .”