All In (3 page)

H
is head raged at him
. It was too early. He was too hung over. Damn. He didn’t know when shots started getting passed around, and he damn well wasn’t sure what made him think it was a good idea drink them.

He did know. The redhead—Polly, Pammy…Tammy, yes, Tammy—had definitely been all over him. Since he’d gotten back from San Francisco, he hadn’t gotten out for some play—not that San Francisco had been all that good to him, either. Shit. It had been months, and his dick had been so eager for some fun. So when Tammy leaned in, he leaned back…until he spotted her.

Cass.

Dammit. How did she do it? For all her words of encouragement, Cassidy Moore managed to be the biggest cock block he’d ever met. He would have let her leave on her own, but he hadn’t missed the way she’d looked over at the bar, panicked, before she left. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen her there, but he thought she seemed content and comfortable on the dance floor with that lanky guy, and he didn’t want to interrupt. However, had he known the dick was going to dump her for some skanky blonde ass…

Who was he kidding? Obviously lanky asshole was only thinking with his dick, which was exactly what Maddox had been doing with the redhead. And there was Cass, his adorable Cass, going home alone. Again.

When was she going to just give it up?

He ran his hand through his hair as he sat up, bemoaning the sharp knife skewering his left temple.

His thoughts turned back to Cass. What the fuck was wrong with her? Hell, what was wrong with the asshole who let her walk away?

She had put on such a happy face when she saw him, kindly introducing herself to his potential fuck buddy for the night. She seamlessly navigated around the fact that he didn’t care if they met, because there was no way it was going beyond a potential fuck against the wall. But then she encouraged him. She always did that. She told him it was about her living vicariously through her friends, but still…

It was time for her to stop living vicariously. Why the fuck couldn’t she just live? That ass was wiling to go home with her. He was skinny and probably not going to be the best lay, but still. The woman needed some good old fashioned ass.

So did he.

Tammy wasn’t that happy that he’d left her at the bar to walk Cass out. That was an understatement. She’d been pissed. It didn’t matter to her that it was the gentlemanly thing to do, and he wasn’t about to put up with possessive bullshit from a woman that wasn’t going to hold his interest for more time than it took to get off. He’d let the redhead go and rejoined a couple of his guy friends from college where he proceeded to down some tequila.

Fucking tequila. Fucking friends from college. He was too old for this shit, and he should have known better.

Thank goodness he knew when enough was enough, and he was at least able to retain memories of stumbling into cab and crawling into his bed…alone.

Always alone.

He grabbed a yogurt from the fridge and pressed the button on the coffeemaker.

Waiting for the caffeine to brew, he turned on the news. The bad, sad of reality the world assaulted him. He opened up his paper to the business section, and memories flooded over him of sitting in quiet while Marissa stared at her computer, studying her patients’ test results—their toes playing under this very table. Except now, his toes were only warmed by the socks on his feet.

His memory of that happy times was shattered by a million other memories that ran cold through his veins. Memories of her calling him an ass. Her distance as she accused him of putting his career first. Her lack of understanding when he asked her to wait just a few more years before starting a family. And last, but definitely not least, the edge he went over when she told him about the affair. She wouldn’t let him touch her for months, and even from the start, she’d barely been open to sex. He’d taken what he could get back then, thinking it was how marriage was just supposed to be. Marissa had been so gorgeous, so successful, and he thought marrying her was the thing to do since they had all the makings of a power couple. They were supposed to be perfect for one another, and instead marriage was just a stone wall between them.

He had been so stupid. Young and stupid.

He crumpled up the paper and decided it was time for a run.

He threw on a t-shirt and running shoes and cranked up the Van Halen he could only hear in one ear.

Maybe Cass wasn’t the only one who couldn’t let go of her own insecurities.

* * *

“
S
he’s got an attitude
,” Phil grumbled, resisting Maddox’s suggestion he turn the next web redesign over to Cass’ team.

Maddox chuckled. His firecracker certainly did.

“What? Like I want to deal with her bullshit every day.”

Maddox stopped laughing.

“Every day?”

“Well, you know, to check in. And then she’ll fight me on everything.”

“Dude, just let her do her thing,” Maddox scowled and grabbed a pen to play with. Damn, he hated sitting still, and Phil was trying his patience with that incredulous look. “She’s good. Let her be good.”

“I know she’s good, but you let her run too loose. You created the monster, and now I’ve got to rein her back in.”

A furrow formed in Maddox’s brow. “Rein her in for what?”

“She doesn’t respect me.”

“What does that mean?”

“She does her own thing. She never checks in. I don’t know what she’s doing half the time,” he rambled, and Maddox began to realize that maybe Cass had been right. Phil was a controlling prick.

“Leave her be, Phil. Just give her the project, set up a time to check in in a month, and leave her to it.”

“You may be her…whatever you are, but stop showing favorites. If she was anyone else…” Phil spat, his eyes growing wide as he took in how dark Maddox’s face was getting.

“What are you accusing me of, Phil?” He growled.

“You favor her.”

“She’s good at what she does,” Maddox countered, and that was the truth. Sure, there was that strange connection between them, and of course he crossed lines with Cass, but that would never have happened if she wasn’t one of the best managers he had. It was probably why she was one of his best. He told her straight out when she was being a bitch monster, and he had no problems setting her on the right track when she was heading in a wrong direction.

“Is she?” Phil questioned, and Maddox knew it was just out of spite. Phil didn’t like looking weak, and he was lashing out.

“You can stop. Now. Don’t say something you’ll regret, Phil,” Maddox balled his hands into fists, no longer fidgeting. “I’d suggest leaving my office, handing over the project to Cass, and thinking hard about what you’re accusing me of and why it might just be the worst career move you’ll ever make.”

Phil paled. He was good, really good, and Maddox knew it. He was young and wanted to prove himself, so he pushed himself and his people hard. But Cass was right. This wasn’t the Phil he knew before San Francisco. This new Phil was brimming with power combined with anxiety, and that was a dangerous combination.

Knowing he’d pushed Maddox over the edge, Phil nodded and walked out of the office, closing the door behind him.

Maddox rubbed the back of his neck. Why had Phil gotten under his skin? He’d been accused of taking his relationship with Cass to inappropriate levels before. In fact, it was an ongoing joke between the two of them. It helped Cass keep herself in check and reminded him that there was a boundary he couldn’t cross. But it was the way Phil said it. As if he and Cass together was something tawdry and dirty. As if the two of them together was something to be ashamed about…

He shook his head. Dammit. There was nothing going on, and nothing would. Cass was just a friend. A coworker and friend. He had no interest in her. She was just comfortable. She was Cass. That’s all.

His thoughts were interrupted by a harsh knock on the door.

“What?” he growled.

“Don’t give me that, asshole,” Cass’ eyes were shooting fire as she shut the door behind her and stood in front of his desk with her hands on her hips.

“What did I do now?”

“You. What the fuck did you say to Phil? That conversation was between us, and now he basically threw this project at me, and…shit. Maddox, I have to work with him. Closely. He’s my boss!”

“He’s being an ass, I take it?” Maddox said lightly, standing up and walking off his frustration.

“Damn straight, and that’s on you!”

“He’ll calm down. He’s just pissed, because I called him out on his bullshit.”

“Mad, I need to be able to tell you things, to vent. I don’t need you running off making things worse for me,” she plopped down on his couch, laying on her side, looking up at him with those brown doe-eyes.

Fucking doe eyes.

He sat down next to her, pulling her over so her head rested on his thigh. As soon as he touched her, tension eased off of him, and his body relaxed. “I didn’t tell him you said anything,” he said, running his fingers along her arms.

“You didn’t?” she asked.

“No. I told him to give you the web redesign, and he pulled his fucking control freak bullshit.”

Cass laughed. “Finally seeing it?”

“Yeah, thanks for that.”

She weaved her fingers through his, settling their joined hands on her stomach.

“Thanks for the project,” she smiled.

“You’ll be great,” he smiled back.

“Of course I will.”

“Such modesty.”

“I learned from the best,” she laughed, mischief sparkling in her eyes.

He couldn’t hold back his own chuckle. “Yes, I’m a bad influence.”

“And I wouldn’t have you any other way.”

* * *

“
N
etflix sucks
,” he mumbled to himself that night, as it seemed nothing was going to hold his interest. He tried everything to get his mind off of work, of Cass, of his ridiculous bout of celibacy. He’d gone for a run, showered, jerked off, showered again, and settled in for a movie when he couldn’t find a thing to watch.

He grabbed his phone.

Whatcha doing?
He texted.

C: Reading Book 2 about the fuzzy praying mantis. You?

M: Fucking bored.

C: Watch a movie.

M: There isn’t shit to watch.

C: Go for a run.

M: Been there. Done that.

C: Everything else I’ve got is highly inappropriate.

M: Been there. Done that.

C: Ew. Didn’t need to know that. What you do when you’re alone should be between you and your hand. Leave me out of it.

M: Who said it was my hand?

C: Shit, Mad. Stop that. Are you not alone? Why the hell are you texting me?

M: I’m alone. Okay, it was my hand.

C: Left or right.

M: Why?

C: I need to know which one never to touch again.

M: Not fair. It would get lonely.

There was a long pause. Had he pushed her too far?

C: Is your dick not enough? I mean, maybe this explains why you’re so bad at getting some.

Oh, no she didn’t.

M: Maybe my dick is just too much to handle.

C: As all men think. Have yet to meet one I can’t handle.

M: I’m not most men.

C: Again…most men…

M: My heart. Stabbing pain. How can you say such hurtful things.

C: Oh, poor dear. I crushed your fragile ego. I must make amends…

M: On your knees?

Long pause. Dammit. Shit. That was too far. He hadn’t meant…

C: You wish.

He let loose the breath he’d been holding.

M: Oh, I do think you owe me. My ego is feeling thoroughly stomped on. I think this one means popcorn and Rodrigo Santoro.

He could practically hear her groan. They loved a lot of the same movies, but Rodrigo’s movies were bloody and violent with almost no storyline. Just a lot of blood and gore, which annoyed Cass. She didn’t mind the violence, but preferred a story. He thought a man with guns for hands and razor blade teeth functioned perfectly well as a storyline.