greeting was painful, and I swallowed the urge to point out that I was not his baby anymore.
“Hi Vic,” I spoke quickly, my fingers picking at the seam of my shirt. “Are you in town?” I held my breath, half hoping he wasn’t, our interaction pushed off further.
“Nope. Blue marlin are hitting in the South Pacific, so we’re going out. I’ll be back in Fiji by the first, then back in the States by the fifth. Why?” His voice sharpened. “You need anything? I can have Jake there—”
“No.” I tried to collect my thoughts. “I just wanted to talk. In person. We can do it when you get back.”
“Is everything okay? I can fly back today.”
“NO.” I took a deep breath. “No, that’s not necessary. I just wanted to…” This was stupid. A face-to-face wasn’t needed. Discussing it right now was a better idea. “I’m seeing someone. I just wanted to tell you about it. And talk through it.”
“Oh, yeah. The handyman.” I could hear the smirk on his face, and it pissed me off.
“Just call me when you get back in town,” I snapped. “We can talk then.”
“I’ll be back on the fifth. Let’s meet then. My club. Ten o’clock.”
“No.” I sputtered. “I was thinking breakfast. In Central Park.”
“Breakfast isn’t good for me. And you said it was important. So let’s knock it out as soon as I get back. Ten o’clock.”
“I can’t meet you at ten at night, Vic. That doesn’t … work for me.” I let out a hard breath and dug harder on the seam, finding a loose thread.
“For you or for the insecure boy you’re dating?”
I frowned.
“Ten on the fifth. Wear something hot.”
And before I could find a response, he hung up.
I knocked on Carter’s door. Glanced at my watch. Tried a second time. No answer.
I eyed the stairwell and took that route, jogging down the stairs and into the basement. Carter had an office there, a tiny box stacked so high with items you could barely get inside. I had about forty-five minutes before Nicole would get out of her spa appointment and was hoping for lunch with my—I swallowed hard—boyfriend. That word still seemed foreign in my throat. Especially now, when I entered the dirty bottom floor, a place my prior boyfriends would never set foot in.
His office was empty, but the engine room door was cracked. I peeked in, the room cool and dark, and saw him. His shirt was off, the giant mechanics of our building behind him. We were talking rough big machines framing his tan, muscular skin, and I couldn’t help but step inside, my hand pulling the door shut behind me, my sandals smacking against the floor.
He looked up, a wrench in hand, and rubbed at his nose with the back of his hand. Saw the look in my eyes, and stood, setting down the wrench. I forgot all about eating.
He picked me up under my arms, carrying me backward, my feet hanging limp, a huff of breath leaving me as he pushed me against the wall. My red sundress got shoved up, his pants quickly unzipped, and then he was inside me. Concrete cool and hard against my back, his grip biting into my ass, the grunt of his thrusts hot in my ear. He fucked me against that wall, and when I came, I screamed, the yell lost in the loud rumblings of the machines. When he finished it was sudden, his grip on my skin tightening, and I felt the shudder of him right before he pulled out.
That night, I told him about my attempt to call Vic and the disaster it had become. He listened quietly, his eyes darkening when I didn’t sugarcoat the ending and told him exactly what Vic had said. How he’d called him insecure. How he’d wanted to meet me at night. Carter had looked away, a pulse in his jaw ticking, then back at me.
“I didn’t want to force you to meet him. That wasn’t what it was about.”
“I know.” We sat on his couch, my feet in his lap, his thumb rubbing gentle pressure into the soles of my feet. I rested my head on the arm of the couch and looked at the ceiling. “And I do think I should talk to him. Just to clear the air. Just so there’s no doubt, in his mind, that we’re over. I want him to stop everything he’s doing.”
“So then meet him. What difference is morning or night?” Carter’s