I still don’t know what the hell I’m doing.
But I do know I’m looking forward to seeing Jaime again tonight.
CHAPTER 3
Jaime
I texted my boss that I’d be late for work before I even got in the shower. It’s not a big deal as I tend to work way more hours in a week than required, and I never claim overtime. It’s not that I’m being altruistic; I just love what I do so much that time seems to get away from me.
My shower goes on a little longer than expected because my mind wanders over the short time I’d spent with Cage. I go over every minute we’d spent at that bar, and I linger a little too long on every second we spent in my apartment.
It was so out of character for me to bring him to my place. It takes me a long time to get to know a man well enough to share my body with him. It’s not that I’m old fashioned or a prude, but I’m not one for instant gratification. More importantly, sexual attraction is more than just physical looks. It’s that element that can’t be seen with your eyes… how well personalities mesh and if the other person is trustworthy. While I could make no judgment on Cage’s trustworthiness in that short amount of time, I had a good gut feeling about him.
And… both of us were egged on by my friends, who kept shamelessly dropping hints that we made a hot couple, and we’d have an even hotter night if we left together. Alcohol helped make the decision easier. As I think back over it, I don’t have an ounce of regret for doing something so out of my norm.
Easy to say since I’m safe in my apartment and he didn’t murder me, but, again, I never thought that was a possibility. I’m a pretty good judge of character. I have to be in my line of work with domestic violence victims because I have to make important safety decisions all the time for women based solely on the history they give me.
When the water starts to cool, I give a final rinse of my hair to ensure the conditioner is out before exiting the shower. I wrap my hair in a towel, then slip into a fleecy robe I grab off the back of my door. My stomach is rumbling, and it needs to be fed. I know it’s certainly at a calorie deficit after the workout Cage gave me last night.
I smile at the memory… even as I acknowledge the slight soreness between my legs. It’s like a badge of honor.
Snickering, I head through my small living room into the kitchen.
“What’s so funny?” I hear a male voice say from the direction of my couch.
I shriek in fear, jumping about two feet off the ground, before my brain connects the voice with a name and I realize it’s my brother.
“Jesus,” I yell at Brian, who is casually lounging on my couch with the full carton of orange juice from my fridge. I’m suddenly regretting giving each of my immediate family members a key to my place in case of an emergency. “You scared the shit out of me.”
Brian merely lifts the carton to his mouth, proceeding to drink straight out of it. Grimacing, I stomp over to him and snatch it away, causing juice to spill on his chest.
“What did you do that for?” he growls, sitting up to wipe at the stain on his t-shirt.
I give him my back, snarling over my shoulder. “Mom and Dad might let you get away with that shit, but in my home, use a glass.”
God, my brother pisses me off more often than not. I just don’t understand him. Our parents are hard workers. Dad has a career in the steel mills where he continues to work, and Mom was a cashier in a grocery store. Growing up, they were good role models for needing to strive for success. They impacted me. I applied my energy to college, then to a fulfilling career. My younger sister, Laney, is in her final year of college at Pitt and will be moving on to a master’s program after.
But Brian never had any ambition to do anything. He’s held odd jobs here and there. For the last three years, he’s lived in my parents’ basement completely unemployed.
At least, legitimate employment.
He makes money somehow. I don’t want to know the details, because it would just cause more