A Bad Bit Nice (7 page)

“Hey girl, where’ve you been all day? I’ve been trying to get in touch with you so I can get my car. Call me back. Maybe we can go get some dinner before you jet off to whatever glamorous locale you’re going to next. Later!” Em grinned at Ashley’s message even as she dialed her best friend’s number.

“Ash, I’ll be there in ten minutes. We have a lot to talk about. The more you ask about what’s going on, the longer it’ll take for me to get there and actually
tell
you what’s going on. I’m hanging up now and I’ll see you in a few.” Em grabbed Ashley’s car keys from the bar and raced out the door.

Over guacamole and margaritas, Em filled Ashley in on what had happened in the past two days.

“Okay, so you had drinks at his place on Friday night after karaoke, and then he brought you breakfast and helped you unpack all day Saturday, and today you helped him with his community service thing and then y’all shared a meal, and then you kissed him. Confirm?” Ashley should have been an interrogator, not a real estate agent.

“Yes, all that,” Em answered as she took another long sip of her drink.

“I think you’re leaving some details out.”

Em blinked at Ashley in confusion.

“I sense that there’s more to this because you’re drinking a girl drink, and you never drink girl drinks unless you’re dealing with a girl problem, a.k.a. boy problems,” Ashley went on. “And the only boy that I’ve seen you pay attention to in months is a certain tall widower named Mick, so I guess not technically a boy at all, but that’s beside the point. So, spill.” Ashley took a big slurp from her own margarita. “Oh my God, you did more than kiss him, didn’t you? You fucked him!” she exclaimed, eyes wide. “Good for you!”

“Ashley, keep your voice down!” Em saw several of the waiters smirking at Ashley’s outburst. “And for goodness sakes, I didn’t.”

“Damn. I don’t even like tall, dark, and tattooed, but Mick? That man is fine, and he obviously needs someone, so you better hit that.”

“Wait, how do you know he needs someone?” Em narrowed her eyes. “Is there something
you
need to tell
me
? I didn’t hear from you at all day yesterday. Did something happen with Rory after y’all left the pub?”

Ashley flapped her hands at Em. “I plead the fifth, and besides, we’re talking about
you
, Miss Em, and not me. So, I repeat, spill!”

Em gave Ashley a look that told her that they weren’t finished discussing Ashley’s love life. “He’s pretty intense, Ash. He seems like he’s had a pretty rough time of it. He intimated that he didn’t have a lot growing up and that his mom left something to be desired. I know his family is dead and his wife is dead. I don’t need someone that I have to fix, you know? I spent my twenties trying to heal the emotional baggage of every guy I dated. I’m too old for that shit. Even that idiot Tripp had daddy issues that I tried to fix and look where it got me.”

“Hold it right there, Em,” Ashley said. “Tripp still has daddy issues. And they’re not going to be fixed, because Tripp didn’t and doesn’t want to do the work. He wants everyone to do everything for him. You know this goes deeper. You took care of your parents for years, even before they got really sick. You way overfunction. And face it, we’re in our forties now.
Everybody’s
going to have emotional baggage, whether it’s from a divorce or kids or aging parents. Look on the bright side, at least Mick won’t have a psycho hose beast of an ex-wife that you have to deal with every day.”

“That’s terrible, Ashley! She’s dead!” exclaimed Em, horrified at her friend’s callousness. Ashley shrugged, but had the decency to wince and mouth ‘sorry’.

“But there’s more to this,” Ashley gently prompted. “I haven’t seen you this wound up about a guy in, well, ever.”

“This just feels really different, Ashley. Like there’s inevitability to it. Desperate, but not desperation. It’s nothing like I’ve felt before, and it really kind of scares me. Actually, it scares the shit out of me.” Em rubbed her face with her hands. “Nice
Wayne’s World
reference, by the way.”

Ashley laughed. “You know it! So what do you want to do? What do you want out of this, Em?”

“I think I just might want it all. All of it and all of him.”

Ashley made a low, long whistle. “Girl, you have got it bad. Like scary bad.”

“Ugh, I know, Ashley, I know.” Em laid her head on the table with a bang. “This isn’t a romance novel where the hero and heroine fall in love at their first encounter. This is real life, and more importantly, this is
my
life, and the whole ‘immediately hot, bothered, and wanting him to rip my panties off’ thing is most definitely
not
me.”

“Okay, enough. Maybe you need to use your heart and not head for once, Em. And anyway, you can’t do anything about it now, right? You’re out of town for the next week or so, right? Get some distance. Maybe he’ll want to come borrow some sugar when you get back in town.” Ashley wiggled her eyebrows. “So tell me more about this boss of yours. Likes, dislikes, felony convictions. Gimme the scoop, lady.”

Em laughed loudly, grateful for the change in topic. “Let’s see. He’s not a smoker that I know of. Likes Irish whiskey. Has a standing mani/pedi appointment. And when we were in Los Angeles, he picked up four pair of bespoke jeans.”

Ashley whistled. “I like this man more and more already.”

“Oh, and I found out yesterday that he was a champion Irish step dancer when he was in school and was almost in a touring production of
Riverdance
! Y’all could form a dance company if this real estate/internet security stuff doesn’t work out,” Em teased. “In the not-so-good news, he has a tendency to date young. Not icky young, but like college co-ed, recently graduated young.”

“Hello! Who have
I
been dating for the past three years?”

Em thought about what she was calling The Kiss the whole time she was out of town. She couldn’t believe she had just kissed him, on the stairs, in front of God and everyone. She didn’t know what had gotten into her. They hadn’t even gone on a real date! At least when she got home, Mick would probably still be out of town, so she wouldn’t have to see him and be immediately mortified at her forward behavior.

Even after they met for dinner, Em and Ashley continued to dissect The Kiss like a couple of junior high girls. Ashley thought it meant something, that Mick was interested; Em was pretty certain it just showed that she was 42-year-old single woman who was starved for physical affection.

How long had it been? Eighteen months? If she was honest, it had been closer to three years since she had had a truly physical relationship. She and Tripp hadn’t been intimate the last year they were together even though they put on a good front for public outings. No, she was lucky to get a peck on the cheek or a hand on her lower back when they were at a party.

Of course,
now
she knew why. Tripp had been getting his needs met by a variety of women. She wondered how long it really was before Tripp set his sights on Bailey. Of course, Bailey knew that Em had been involved in a long-term relationship with Tripp, so dating him was pretty shitty on Bailey’s part, but hell, Em was pulling away anyway.

Whatever
.

“Oi! Em!” called a familiar voice.

Em looked around and saw Rory bustling through the crowd, beaming at her.

“Fancy meeting you here,” she laughed. “I thought you were still putting out fires in Portland.”

“Things got settled down very quickly when I threatened to enforce the PITA upcharge.”

“The PITA upcharge?”

“The Pain in the Arse upcharge—if the client is a pain in the arse, our services cost a lot more. It’s very useful,” he laughed.

Em was getting ready to split off to take the train when Rory stopped her.

“I’ve got my car here. Let me drive you home,” Rory said. “It’s the least I can do to thank you for pulling my balls out of the fire
and
securing an additional contract to boot.”

Em fussed, but soon relented as she saw a late spring storm erupt in the sky. The last thing she wanted to do was walk home in a downpour. Soon they were traveling from the airport toward the Victorian in Rory’s low sports car.

“Can Mick even fit in this car?” Em asked. Rory barked a laugh.

“He can, but he gripes the whole time. A few times I’ve either had too much to drink or I’ve left with someone and Mick’s taken the car back to the house. He always swears he’s never going to do it again, but guilt gets him every time. He doesn’t want to leave the car out in a parking lot overnight.” Rory grinned and shrugged.

Em chuckled to herself, imagining Mick’s big body and long legs crammed into the low-slung vehicle. Rory was a pretty big guy himself, but he wasn’t nearly as tall as Mick; his was more of a broad, thick-chested build.

Rory turned made his way through Midtown, taking a route that Em didn’t exactly know but recognized. She grinned.

“Hey, Rory, would you turn here? There’s a building that I’ve watched transform for a while and I want to see what’s changed since I’ve been out of town.”

Rory laughed. “Sure. Tell me where to go.”

Em gave directions to the warehouse, and as they neared the building, Rory’s face split into a wide smile. He surprised Em by pulling into the parking lot and turning off the motor.

“What are you doing, Rory?” she asked.

“We’re going in.”

Em balked, but Rory was having none of it. She huffed but finally got out of the car.

“Rory, this is a recording studio. I don’t think we can just walk in here.”

“You’ll see, love. Come on.”

Well, hell. He probably knows the owner of the studio. Rory knows just about everyone.

They walked through the front door and into a secured lobby, but the front desk was unattended. Rory confidently pressed a buzzer a few times in a complicated rhythm and soon the door unlocked with a
snick
. He winked and led Em down a long hallway. She could hear rapid drumming and singing...in French?

They got to the end of the hall and stood in front of a door lit by a red “In Session” light. After a few moments, the drumming and singing stopped and the light turned off. Rory knocked twice and opened the door.

Em walked in behind Rory and saw Mick sitting in the studio, his back to the door.

“Oi, Rory, didn’t know you’d be back so soon,” he said, messing with some controls on the big soundboard in front of him. “Give me a sec.”

“I’ve brought someone with me to see the studio, Mickeyboy. She’s been watching the renovations and wondering about it for a while.”

Mick ground his teeth in annoyance. He was getting dead tired of his friend’s machinations to get him to date. Leave it to Rory to bring a strange woman into his studio. Mick turned with a scowl and saw Em peeking from behind the big Irishman.

“Hey, Mick,” she said. “I didn’t mean to impose...”

Mick’s scowl quickly turned into a wide grin. “Em! Hello!” He stood and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, then laughed when her eyes got wide.

“This...this is yours?” she asked. She smacked her head with the heel of her palm. “Of course. River Driver Records. That song.”

Mick grinned at her. “Yep, this is me.”

“Was that you playing and singing just a minute ago?”

Mick blushed. “Yeh, it was. I was just fooling around a bit, trying out some levels and things.” He suddenly turned shy.

Rory rolled his eyes. “Mickey has sat in with some huge names. He’s being a bit too humble.”

Mick scowled at Rory. He didn’t want Em to think he was a braggart.

“You told me you had
some
studio space, Mick. You didn’t tell me you had
a
studio.” She swatted him. “Silly rabbit.”

Mick and Em continued to grin at each other without saying anything. Rory shook his head.
These two just need to get together and stop mucking about.

“Mick, are you almost finished here?” Rory asked, quickly formulating a plan.

“Sure, you guys want to get some lunch?” Mick said, looking directly at Em.

Rory grinned at his friend.
At least Mickey was with the program.

“Ach! Look at the time! I have a conference call with the Vegas client, Mick. Why don’t you and Em get some lunch. Em, I’ll get your bags out of the car and Mickey can take you home after, yeah?”

Em started to protest. “I’m the principal on the Vegas project—shouldn’t I be on the call as well?”

Crap. Leave it to Em to be a conscientious worker.

“Oh, no, Em. It’s financial stuff, pounding out the last details of the actual contract and such. We’re not going to be talking about schedules or anything. You two have lunch; I’ll grab your bags.” Rory fled the building before she could protest further.

Mick just laughed. “I’m guessing that Rory doesn’t really have a conference call with Vegas.”

“No, I’ll just bet he doesn’t, the sneak,” Em said, a scowl in her voice but a grin on her lips. “So, Mister Recording Big Shot, where are we going for lunch?”

“Wherever you’d like to go, ma’am,” Mick said. Em hooked her arm through his and they made their way down the hall.

*****

“So you don’t sing at all?” Mick asked as he contemplated how to eat his rib sandwich. Barbeque and beards weren’t the most compatible at times.

“Oh, no. I can’t carry a tune in a bucket. I was actually requested to
not
sing, only lip sync, one time.”

“So what were you doing at karaoke?” he asked, frowning at the sandwich in his hands.

“Picking up hot Irishmen,” she said with a smirk that turned into a wide grin when Mick aspirated a pickle.
And unbelievably hot Canadians.

Em grinned at Mick’s fastidious eating. She never thought about how having a big beard would affect your table manners. And of course, while she was watching Mick struggle with his sandwich, she dropped a big blob of rum-baked beans on her white blouse.

“Dammit, I need a bib,” she groused while she tried to blot the spot on her blouse so it wouldn’t stain. Of course, she only succeeded in smearing it. She huffed.

Mick watched her, his eyes dancing with amusement. “We’re quite a pair for lunch, aren’t we?” he said. He’d given up picking up his sandwich and was just eating it with a fork and knife.

“Well, it’s a danger of being chesty. One plus: I never get anything on my trousers because my boobs catch it all.”

Good lord, Em. You don’t need to talk about your boobs with this man. He already probably thinks you’re a hussy anyway, the way you attacked him on the stairs the day after you met him.

Mick tried as hard as he could to not stare at her bosom, but her chest was
right
there
, encased in a low-cut white blouse that fit her perfectly. He could see some deep cleavage when she leaned over the table to scoop some of the beans on her spoon. Her eyes rolled shut when she ate the last bit of beans, humming her pleasure.

Mick groaned.

“Are you okay, Mick?” she asked, concerned at the look of pain on his face.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” He cleared his throat. “I’m going to get us some dessert.”

Okay. That was weird.

Mick returned with two small cups of banana pudding. Em grinned.

“I love their banana pudding,” she said with a grin, scooping up a spoonful of the sweet dessert. They ate their dessert without any further incidents until the very end, when Em’s last spoonful of pudding plopped directly on her exposed cleavage, not on her shirt.

“Fuck! Now I’m gonna have sticky boobs,” she exclaimed. She scooped the blob of pudding from her chest onto her finger. Mick gave out a strangled moan.

“Sweet Janey Mac, Em, you’re killing me,” he said, laughing, his neck bright red where it was visible under his beard. He buried his face in his hand as he continued chuckling.

Em blotted her cleavage and tried to resume her prissy posture                                                                                                                                                          but couldn’t do it. She guffawed and patted Mick’s hand where rested on the table. “Well, that was an adventure. Are you ready to go?”

“Yes, I’m definitely ready to go, Em,” Mick smirked.
More than you’ll probably ever know.