Underneath It All (The Walsh Series #1) (17 page)

I waited, watching
while Shannon hunched over her laptop and furiously tapped at keys until her eyes narrowed and she studied the screen closely. After several more keystrokes, she pushed out of the chair. In a thin Southern accent called, “Tom, I have a few pages on the printer. Git ’em in here.”

She returned to the table after pulling thick files from her desk and paging through them at lightning speed. A young man delivered freshly printed pages and she murmured in appreciation.

“Here’s my recommendation. Come in at this,” she pointed to a number and circled it with purple ink. Girlfriend liked her purple. Purple pens, purple nails, purple skirt, purple chairs, purple walls, purple phone case, purple calla lilies beneath a cloche, purple crystal paperweight. “And be prepared to negotiate within a swing of twenty-five thousand.” She scribbled a number below the circled figure and pointed. “I would be happy shaking hands at this number. How does that sound?”

I beamed with relief. Shannon’s figures were far below the listing price, far below the price Matthew estimated over the weekend, and far below my facilities grant from my fellowship program. “That sounds fantastic.”

Shannon went to work drawing up the offer while I scanned a new stack of resumes for the teaching positions I needed to fill. While making notes on the documents, my phone buzzed in my pocket, and I knew without looking it was Matthew.

15:29 Matthew:
hey.

15:29 Matthew:
I am so sorry about Riley. And Sam. please tell me you’re not inventing reasons to disappear

There was my trap door, my exit strategy. I could say goodbye to Matthew, cloak it in awkwardness and embarrassment, and walk away…but that felt unnecessarily cruel. I couldn’t let him suffer, let him think his loud, unruly family was to blame when I was secretly loving their brash brand of hate-love.

And I still had until tomorrow before any fizzling was required.

15:31 Lauren:
no worries. besides, your original ideas were very interesting.

15:32 Lauren:
you think your desk can hold us? If it’s anything like the desk at your place…

“A few signatures,” Shannon announced, gesturing to the offer pages. I flipped through the pile of papers, smiling each time my phone alerted with a new message. “Tom will fax these and I’m going to call the seller’s agent to get some balls rolling.”

15:33 Matthew:
I built it. It holds over 1000 pounds.

15:33 Matthew:
So, yeah.

15:34 Matthew:
if given the option, I’d take you back to my place and bend you over the dining room table.

15:35 Matthew:
or any other surface. Several come to mind.

15:42 Matthew:
this is torture.

15:42 Matthew:
I want you.

15:43 Matthew:
right. fucking. now.

I bit my lip to hold back a laugh but couldn’t control the heat spreading through my body. Part of me expected him to submit to his inner caveman and barrel into Shannon’s office, throw me over his shoulder, and drag me off.

Part of me liked that idea.

15:45 Lauren:
:)

“Offer is on its way and the agent thinks the seller is very motivated.” Shannon dropped into her chair, crossed her legs, and set her hands on her knee, her gaze focused on me. “Now that’s out of the way…I know he’d kill me for this, but would it be weird to ask about you and my brother? It seems like you’ve known each other a while.”

I felt her comment like ice water in my veins before I comprehended it, and I knew my reaction was painted all over my face when Shannon leaned forward, her expression flustered.

“I’m sorry, it was weird. I shouldn’t have said anything.” She shook her head. “I’m rude and intrusive, and asking whether it would be weird meant I knew it would be, so I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry. It just…I don’t know.” Shannon kicked off her nude heels and tucked her legs underneath her. “I was only in there a minute, and I could be wrong, but I got the sense it was serious…yeah, I’m going to stop now.”

How was that even possible?

My non-sexual knowledge of Matthew could fit into a dainty hand basket: his age (thirty), profession (architect-engineer), home (huge, covet-worthy waterfront loft), interests (showing up at doors with panties in hand, cavemanning), alma maters (Cornell undergrad, MIT grad school), beverage preferences (Heineken, coffee with extra cream and extra sugar, ice-less water), collections (running shoes, ties with little tessellation patterns, Cornell t-shirts), quirks (left-handedness, doing math in his head, incredible parallel parking), and sleeping habits (on his side, one arm curled under his pillow, one hand on my ass).

We didn’t know each other at all. Our version of ‘getting to know you’ was distinctly carnal, and we made little time for anything beyond the basics. He was a cool guy, but I didn’t
know
him. I knew more about the barista I chatted up while my latte was brewing this morning. Hell, I knew more about the woman who sat down beside me on the Green Line this afternoon.

“Listen,” Shannon continued. “He hardly ever dates, and he’s never let us meet anyone he’s with, so all of this is kind of unprecedented. We didn’t realize his client was also his girlfriend.”

“Oh no, no no, I’m not—I mean, we’re not—no,” I stammered. Drinking? Yes. Fucking? Yes. Dating? Absolutely not. “No. Not at all.”

“Huh,” she murmured. She stared at me, her purple pen tapping against her palm, and it was clear she was waiting for more. “I didn’t mean to make it weird. I just got the impression,” she gestured to her phone, and I didn’t have to know what Riley said in that group text to know it supported Shannon’s argument. “Whatever. I’ve made it weird.”

“No,” I said. “It’s not weird. Just a big misunderstanding.”

Right, because there was something unclear about Matthew announcing he wanted to fuck me on his desk.

“I hope I didn’t scare you away. I’m sitting here with my disgusting hobbit feet hanging out, and that fact alone is probably terrifying.”

The self-deprecating comment overshadowed her aggressive exterior, and I suddenly realized her intrusive questions weren’t meant to rattle me. This was her version of affable, though it more closely resembled a cross-examination. She wanted to befriend the woman her brother was seeing.

Her assumptions about Matthew and me were all wrong, and I couldn’t get in any deeper with him or his family. At the same time, I didn’t have the heart to leave her hanging, regardless of whether my fizzle out plan was set to launch in a matter of hours.

“If you want to talk about disgusting hobbit feet, I haven’t had a pedicure since July. Boot season couldn’t have come soon enough for me.”

At Shannon’s murmur of solidarity, I laughed.

“I can’t even get my hair cut on a regular basis, either. Hobbit feet plus split ends, and that’s at least part of the reason I can’t meet normal guys. You wouldn’t believe the assclowns out there these days.” She inspected a few strands of hair between her fingers and impatiently tossed them over her shoulder. Looking up, she frowned at me. “But maybe none of it matters. Maybe it just happens when you’re not looking. Or tending to your toes.”

*

After nearly four
hours of negotiations and counteroffers, Shannon handed me a stack of papers with an earnest nod. “This is a steal.”

Flipping through the pages of legalese, I smiled at the bottom line. She drove a hard bargain and fought to get the best possible price while saddling the sellers with all of the inspection fees and forgoing her commission.

The waiting between counteroffers gave us time to chat, and I discovered Shannon was my kind of lady. When she wasn’t riding herd on her brothers, she trolled for shoe sales and cozy wine bars, but never found herself a tight group of girlfriends, and beneath her take-charge bluster, she was lonely. She filled her free moments with spin classes and online dating, but neither held her attention for long.

She was ambitious and audacious, and wore sensational shoes, and I didn’t have the first clue how I’d end things with Matthew and still be her friend, but I wanted to make that happen.

“If you really want a button mill—and really, Lauren, what girl doesn’t?—sign here, and here, and on all of these other flags, too.”

“Not a button mill for long,” I said.

Inhaling deeply, I followed Shannon’s finger and signed. When the paperwork was finished and her assistant was on his way to file the documents, I sensed Matthew behind me. It was as if his body broadcast a frequency only mine could receive.

“I hear we’re in possession of a building?” Turning, my smile summed it up. “I told you Shan would knock it out of the park. My favorite general contractor is ready to roll, and we’re pulling permits the minute we get that title. Riley is in the basement printing the bluelines now.”

“One giant priority off my to-do list,” I said. “Thank you both, so much.”

“Hey, it’s what we do,” Shannon said. “And when you’re back in town, text me. We’ll get that pedicure. And some cupcakes and wine and other things boys don’t like.”

“Boys don’t have objections to wine or cupcakes,” Matthew muttered. “Boys like them very much. Boys want to be invited for cupcakes and wine, and boys will get your drunk asses home.”

“Definitely,” I said and wrapped her in a tight hug. “Thank you again, Shannon.”

“Safe travels,” she called as Matthew guided me out the door and back to his office. His touch was urgent and familiar, and I was letting myself savor this. Twenty-four hours from now, I’d be thousands of miles away and my iPhone would be serving as my primary companion.

“Happy?” Matthew asked.

“Yes. Everything is falling into place. This was the most productive day in a year, no exaggeration, and it’s because you dragged me to the bar on Friday night.”

Matthew smiled and backed me against his office door, his fingers skimming up my neck to cradle my face. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. And it involved forced drunkenness.”

“I’ve said plenty of highly complimentary things about your cock. I think I described your reboot time as remarkable.”

“You said impressive, but I’ll also allow remarkable,” he said, his lips brushing over mine. “Let’s go to your place. It’s closer, and you need to pack, and we’ll have drinks.”

I nodded, not willing to entertain a futile debate about doing anything else. His lips captured mine, and my fingers moved from his chest to the erection pressing against my belly.

“Is your desk out of the question?” I asked against his mouth.

“For what I have in mind? Yes, but if you ask one more time, I won’t be able to say no.”

A laptop clicked shut. “I’m still here.”

“Fuck me,” Matthew sighed. He dropped his forehead to my shoulder and released a ragged breath.

“Sorry, Riley,” I laughed. “I didn’t see you over there.”

“Whatever,” Riley muttered while he jammed his laptop into his backpack and unraveled a set of earbuds. “I think you want to get caught. Fuckin’ exhibitionists. I need my own goddamn office.”

“Three other conference rooms,” Matthew said under his breath.

We stepped apart, and Matthew headed for his desk to shut down his laptop. Riley shouldered his backpack and inserted his earbuds, offering me a brisk nod and closing the door behind him as he exited.

“Let’s also pretend that didn’t happen.” Matthew propped himself on the edge of his desk and pulled me between his legs. “What’ll it be, Miss Halsted?”

I smiled and nuzzled my face into his chest. “I’m hungry. I’d like some wine. And I’d be happier if I got out of these shoes. The suit, too. And you’ve invited yourself to my apartment again, as any good creeper would.”

“If I didn’t invite myself over, how else would you get out of the suit?” he laughed. He reached back and grabbed his phone. “I’ll go pick up, you go pack.” He handed it to me, and I glanced at the take-out menu on the screen. “Decide what you want.”

“Yeah,” I managed. “Sounds good.”

I stayed pressed against Matthew, scanning the take-out menu while his words echoed in my head.

Decide what you want.

They were brutal, haunting reminders that, regardless of what I kept telling myself, I had no idea what I wanted.

MATTHEW

T
aking in the
mix of charmingly mismatched furniture and eclectic typography prints accented with piles upon piles of books, I felt the warmth of Lauren’s apartment surrounding me. Her home was wonderfully lived-in, a comfortable level of organized chaos, and nothing like mine.

I expected the rigid, military order I saw in her work, and guessed the lack of structure and precision in her home mirrored her more accurately. I didn’t know which versions of Lauren she wanted me to embrace—the pin-up with the dirty mouth, the unrelenting workaholic who kicked and screamed every time she was separated from her smartphone, the quirky girl who filled her home with a rainbow of velvet pillows and funky art, or the sweet, innocent teacher who offered everyone kind smiles whether they deserved them or not—but then I remembered she wasn’t thrilled about me embracing her at all. She liked her workaholic ways, and though I was kicked back on her sofa, she wasn’t keeping me around for my sparkling conversation.