A Modern Love Story (29 page)

*****

Once Luc got the feeling back into his limbs, he rolled off the platinum blond and onto his feet. He made quick work of pulling on his pants and was already zipping them before she noticed he was getting dressed.

“Hey,” she protested, fully naked and spread casually across the couch.

“I have to get to work.”

She rocked onto her knees as he grabbed his shirt, draped across the back of the couch. “Before you go, I have a request.”

He eyed her up. “What sort of request?”

“I need someone to escort me to my company’s annual dinner this weekend. Could you make it?”

“Let’s get this straight. I am
not
your boyfriend
or
your escort.”

She held up her hands. “No question. Just looking for a favor.” She snaked her hands up his chest as she closed in to bite his hip. “I’ll owe you one.”

Jesus Christ, the woman was insatiable. And his reaction was undeniable. “Fine. We’ll talk later about it.”

“You sure you can’t stay a bit longer.” She hooked her fingers into the waist of his jeans, tugging him closer.

“No, Payten,” he said, his tone condescending. “Some of us have to work for a living.”

“Don’t feed me that bullshit, Luc. I work damn hard for what I have.
Don’t
treat me like an imbecile.”

He smirked, enjoying the temper he ignited. “Don’t act so fucking stupid and I won’t treat you like an imbecile. It’s simple, really.”

She leveled an icy stare at him. “Nobody talks to me like that.”

“I just did.”

She gripped his hips as she slowly moved in. Keeping their eyes locked, she pulled his zipper down with her teeth. His breath caught and he was hard in an instant.

“Nobody can get away with it like you do. You make me so hot, Luc.” She pressed her lips against his quivering abs as she dragged his pants down.

An hour later, Luc was finally getting into his car, cursing the time but feeling more than satisfied as he did. His phone was beeping on the dash, indicating he had a message. He flipped it open as he turned onto the street. It was Robbie.

Fucking hell.

The contentment he’d felt contorted into a twisted jumble of emotions: Frustration, annoyance, guilt, and anger. The only thing he wouldn’t let himself feel was how much he missed her, how much he loved her. That was what Payten was for—a barricade against the real emotions, the ones that dug down deep and hollowed a man out. She was the perfect distraction for him. He didn’t love her, he didn’t even really care about her, and she didn’t love him. She only wanted a good lay, same as him. It was a simple symbiosis for a purely pragmatic purpose. So why did it feel like he was betraying every moral he had?

Shit! He was doing what he damn well needed for survival. Watch out for number one, first and foremost. And right then, he was fucking number one! Robbie left
him
,
godammit
!
Not
the other way around.

The guilt shifted front and center when his cell rang. He glanced at the display. Robbie. “
Sonofa
-fucking-bitch,” he mumbled, his conscience warring as his stomach dropped.

In the end, it was fear that had him tossing the phone on the passenger seat. What if she heard the guilt in his voice? Or the blame he aimed at her in his tone? What he had with Payten was temporary, casual. Once he got a handle on things, he’d end it. No harm, no foul. Besides, who knew what Robbie was doing over there, still living with that fucking Scott asshole and all.

He focused on that line of thinking, allowing the anger to overtake every other emotion until he was certain he was in the right. He was feeling pretty damn confident by the time he arrived at Hooligan’s.

The atmosphere in the bar was insane. Rarely had the place been so packed, and the stress splashed across Conrad’s face told him it’d been this way for awhile. He picked a helluva day to be late.

Without a falter in his stride, he jumped right in and got to work. It was a good hour before people could walk comfortably through the crowd to the bar, but even then the demand seemed non-stop while the decibel level crept up, and not down. After his shift, he was going to need about a bottle-and-a-half of aspirin.

“Hey, Luc, you got a minute?” Lizbeth asked, stepping behind the bar from the back room.

“Does it look like it?” He smacked a customer’s change on the bar, and got the next person’s order.

Above the racket of all the chatter, Luc could barely make out the sound of the phone ringing. He looked over to make sure someone was getting it and saw Conrad snatch it, pinching it awkwardly in place with his shoulder as he rang up an order.

“Payten’s on the phone,” Conrad hollered.

Luc inwardly cringed as he heard Lizbeth next to him. “
Payten
?”

“Not now,” he barked at Conrad, guilt flooding in him as he popped a cap off a beer and set it on the bar. He tried to ignore Lizbeth’s presence, but he couldn’t help glancing over at her.

Her eyes went wide. “Motherfucker!” She shoved at his chest with both hands, and he took a stumbling step back.

“Back off, Lizbeth,” he growled, feeling the need to defend himself even though he knew he had no fucking leg to stand on.

“Yeah, I’ll back off after I deliver a message from your
girlfriend,
Robbie. Remember her, you slimy little prick?! She’s been looking for you and asked me to tell you to call her. I see now why you’ve been too
busy
to!”

He grabbed her arm as she spun away. His voice was low and dangerous. “Don’t you dare fucking tell her. It’s nothing.”

She struggled in his grasp. “Fuck you! Don’t tell me what to do.” She looked around at the patrons crowding the bar. “Busy night tonight, Luc. You wouldn’t want me to make a scene, would you?”

He let go of her, but stepped in her path. “Don’t do it.”

“You’re such an asshole.” Her eyes went stone-cold gray as she looked past him.

“What’s going on, gorgeous?” Conrad between them.

“Who was on the phone?” Lizbeth asked, jaw tightening.

Don’t do it, man, Luc thought, but held his tongue.

“It was just
Payt
—”

Luc sighed as Lizbeth shoved past him to get at Conrad.

“You dickhead! You knew?! You knew he was banging that piece of shit and you didn’t
tell
me?!”

Conrad stuttered out a few syllables, but nothing coherent. Even Luc recognized the panic in his eyes.

“Don’t try telling me you didn’t know. I saw your face when you realized what you said—like you were spilling some government secret.” She spun on her heel.

Conrad grabbed for her, but he was too slow. “Lizbeth!”

“The hell with you,” she called over her shoulder. “And don’t bother calling me, either!”

Luc watched as she disappeared into the back. He flinched when Conrad punched him in the arm.

“Hope the worthless piece of ass is worth it, Luc. You just ruined two relationships in one goddamn blow. That takes some fucking talent.”

“You’re the one who opened your damn mouth,” Luc retorted, turning to glare down at him.

“And you’re the one who opened your fucking fly.” Conrad stormed off to the other end of the bar.

“Shit,” Luc muttered. Despite the demanding crowd, he went into the back room, fists clenched, to regain his bearings. He knew he had totally fucked things up, and now he had to find a way to fix this shit.

His phone ringing had him cursing as he yanked it out of his pocket. “What?!” he growled, ready to give Payten what-for.

There was a beat of silence before he heard the sexiest voice he’d ever known. “Luc?”

“Robbie,” he breathed, slumping against the wall.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. It’s…nothing. It’s just really crazy here right now.”

“Yeah, I can hear it in the background. Business is booming, huh?”

“Yup.”

“Well, all right… I’m… I’ll let you get back to work. I just, ah, wanted to hear your voice.”

He swallowed down the lump in his throat. “It’s good to hear yours, too.”

“I miss you so much, Luc. I can barely stand it sometimes. I can’t believe I let you talk me into leaving for a whole year.”

His brow knitted in irritation. “I didn’t—” But he
had
talked her into it, hadn’t he? What the hell was he thinking?! “You needed to go. Both for your family, and your job,” he said, reflecting back on their conversation.

“I know.” Her sigh bristled through the phone. “I’ll talk to you again soon, okay?”

“Sure thing.”

“Luc?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

The pressure building in his chest broke apart and he felt like his heart was crumbling. “I love you, too, Rob,” he said quietly, and snapped the phone shut.

He tipped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. He
did
love her, which meant two things: He had to be true to her, and he had to stop banging the blonde. He would find another way to deal. He had to. He couldn’t fuck this up.

The rest of the night passed in a thick, murky haze. The voices echoing around him had no meaning other than the select few needed to get the drink orders straight. Other than that, he was oblivious as he sunk into his own head. He had never thought he was the type to get down about anything. If something was bothering him, he’d blow it off or tell the person in question to fuck off. Simple. Done. But this was a whole other animal. This time, he had no one to blame but himself.

The dark cloud hung over him all the way through closing, and was still lingering when he unlocked his apartment. If this was gonna be the way of it for the next fucking year, he was in for a helluva downward spiral.

He was so distracted by the weight on his shoulders that he nearly missed the naked woman sitting cross-legged on his La-Z-Boy.

“How the hell did you get in here?”

“I sweet-talked your landlord,” Payten admitted with a shrug. “He wasn’t going to let me in until I showed him the treats I brought. After that, he figured you’d be grateful for the intervention.”

“I don’t give a shit what you brought. Get dressed and get the fuck out. We’re over.”

Her bottom lip slipped out into a sultry pout. “Aw, did we have a bad night? I can make it all go away.” She stood and sauntered her way towards him. “I’m right here for you, Luc. And I’ll never leave you—not as long as you want me.” She trailed a finger across his chest as she passed, angling for a grocery bag on the table.

Her words hit on a nerve as he struggled with his resolve. She was here. She was a warm body. She was companionship. No. She
wasn’t
Robbie. The weight that had begun to lift settled back down. “I said
get the fuck out
.”

The words had no impact as she smiled over her shoulder, then dug around in the bag. She pulled out one item at a time, setting them on the table. Chocolate syrup. Caramel. Whip cream. “I thought you might be hungry after a long night at work.” She gathered the items in her arms, pressing them against her firm, tight-
nippled
breasts. “Come into the bedroom and I’ll see that you’re well fed.”