London Falling (13 page)

I laughed into his chest. “Since when did you get all feely-mick-feelerton? Feelings for the opposite sex?” I mocked him, making an ugly face and sticking out my tongue while rolling my eyes. “Really, Tripp?”

He grinned and kissed the edge of my mouth. “Really. According to my sponsor, it’s time for the both of us to make some changes. It starts with us relying on others now and again, and not just one another.” He pointed to his chest then mine.

“I think I read a book on that once,” I said dryly, with an eye roll.

“Be serious. We are completely co-dependent on one another. For everything.”

“But I trust you.” I bit my lip and grabbed a hunk of hair to twirl it around my index finger.

“And I you.” Tripp hugged me tight. “But it’s time we take baby steps. I’ll do it, if you will?”

“You’re not moving out are you?” I stared into his light eyes. There was something there I couldn’t get a good read on. Usually his emotions were all over the place and easy to identify.

Normally, I didn’t need the vocal answers to questions. I knew the answers in the emotions that poured off him. Right now, I felt…nothing. It scared the hell out of me. Heat rolled through me as I pondered the concept that I’d be alone. Without Tripp. Prickles of panic sneaked up my spine and sent gooseflesh to the outer edges of my skin, tickling and uncomfortable.

Tripp cupped my cheeks. “Baby steps, Bridge. Shit, relax, breathe for Christ’s sakes!” I let out a huge lungful of air I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “I don’t know how to start either,” he finally admitted.

That’s why I couldn’t feel anything. I took a deep breath in and out slowly. He honestly didn’t have any emotion tied to the concept of moving forward, moving on. Probably because for so long he believed he’d end up dead in the gutter like his bitch of a mother told him he would. And it actually could have happened had he not cleaned up his act and gotten off the drugs.

“Look, Bridge, I’m not asking you to make a life change here. God knows, I’d prefer to be the only man in your life. But, we know we have to let others in at some point. Now when you’ve got a sexy Mr. Bond of your very own, you might as well take advantage. Hell, if you don’t, I will!”

“I think that new sponsor is helping you.” I giggled and squeezed his hands.

He nodded, pulled me into a standing position and gave me one of his megawatt, model-bright smiles. “I think so, too. How about we go get your client and start filling his house with what he needs!”

Tripp was the best thing I could ever hope or wish for in a best friend. He was kind, loving, more concerned about my needs than his own and a tiger in the sack, though we promised no more of that. We have kept that promise for the past year aside from the little handy a couple weeks ago. We’ve both been on our best behavior. Our friendship has never been stronger. He threw an arm over my shoulders and walked us to my room.

“So what’s this guy Dylan’s problem, anyway? Besides that he’s no longer getting laid by you, poor guy. That makes two of us.” He pouted, sticking his full pink lip out, looking adorable.

I narrowed my eyes at him and pulled some clothes from the closet. “Believe it or not, he actually needs to be a bachelor. A real bachelor. Live on the wild side, have some parties, experience life. He’s too stuck on being a goodie-two-shoes.”

Without paying attention, I grabbed a pair of skinny jeans and a tank top that crisscrossed in the back.

Tripp shook his head and grabbed the blouse from my hands. “You can’t wear that, unless you’re putting this sheer thing over it.” He held out a teal and purple peacock inspired blouse. It looked best with a tank under it but sometimes I rocked a teal bra and showed off my assets.

He didn’t normally make a point of picking out my clothes. That sounded more like Aspen’s bestie, Oliver, not mine. Her BFF moonlighted as her personal assistant, fashion stylist, and second in command of her company. Tripp was more man than she-man. Women’s clothing was not his thing unless he was stripping it off said woman.

“What do you mean I can’t wear this?” I pulled the white silky tank from his grip.

“Are you trying to confuse the guy? You know longer want to fuck him, but this says ’Here, look at my perfect tits in this top.’ It’s cruel, Bridge.” He grasped the peacock shirt and tank and shoved it into my chest. “Give the guy a break and cover up the precious, will ya?”

I laughed. “You did not just call my boobs ’the precious,’ Tripp Devereaux!”

“Oh yes, I did. I’ve had them every which way you can get ‘em and they are worth all the gold in China and then some.” He put his hands under each globe to test their weight. “Yup. And still perky as hell.”

“Cut it out!” I smacked his hands away. “I’ll wear the damn blouse, okay? Jeez, you’re worse than my mother. I don’t know why I put up with you,” I grumbled and threw on the tank, adjusted my boobs and slipped on the sheer overlay. The deep purples, teals and blues contrasted with my black hair and light eyes. It really worked for me. I actually
felt
pretty.

“Perfect, now call your client and tell him to meet us downtown. I want to check out that hidden away furniture emporium you found last month by accident.”

“Ooh, good idea! I didn’t get a chance to really check it out. They have a little restaurant close by. We can hit that afterward for drinks and appies!” I pulled my hair into a thick pony tail, slicked my lips with some pink gloss, pinched my cheeks and added a quick layer of black mascara, then we were off.

Dylan met us just outside the furniture store as we pulled up in my BMW. It was a gift from Aspen for my twenty-fifth birthday last year. It matched hers, only she chose a dull boring gunmetal gray for herself. Mine was candy apple red, loaded, with high-performance tires and a smooth black leather interior.

Tripp told Aspen the gift was TITS! Meaning it was as great as a nice pair of breasts. Men were weird. I named her “Samantha” after the erotic vixen in Sex in the City.

The Furniture Emporium was a huge metal warehouse, ten times bigger than any of those box stores in suburbia. It hadn’t spread its wings as one of the mainstream retailers, but I knew a guy, who knew a guy, who got me access.

The last time I was here I briefly drooled over the supply. They catered to clientele that specialized their designs with furniture from India, Europe, and Asia. They also had a solid amount of US products that were considered ‘boutique’ pieces made from local woodworkers and whittlers. Everywhere the eyes roamed, new and beautiful art was proudly displayed. The place was Heaven to an interior designer.

I couldn’t wait to show Tripp and Dylan, though I didn’t think Dylan would much care one way or the other. He wasn’t big on sharing his opinion. Part of why I needed to bring Tripp along for this experience. Tripp was Tripp. Forever the bachelor. Honestly, I hoped Tripp could give the guy a lesson or two on how to let go, live in the now instead of planning his stock portfolio for when he was going to retire. The man was in his twenties for crying out loud.

We got out of the car. Dylan stood looking incredibly young, having traded in his suit for jeans and a polo shirt. He approached me, placed a hand around my waist and leaned in for a kiss. I backed away and Tripp stepped between us, introducing himself.

Dylan’s eyes followed me as I walked around him. I knew it wasn’t fair, avoiding him like this. Originally, I set the rules. Now, I had to suffer the consequences. Tenderly, I gripped his hand and brought it to my lips for a kiss. Confusion seemed to pump off him. It tapped a hasty beat against my heart, making me feel like utter garbage for leading him on the way I had.

“Hey,” I kissed his knuckles keeping the hold on his hand. His eyebrows knit together at the gesture. “We need to talk, later okay?”

Dylan’s eyes brightened. I could feel acceptance and loss transmitting to my empathic feelers. He looked resigned but smiled and kissed the outside of my hand. “Sure, whatever you say, London.”

“Let’s have some fun. I’m about to change your life,” I said whimsically.

I tugged him through the warehouse style store as I heard him whisper, “You already have.”

***

“I’ll fucking pummel the bloody wanker!” Nathaniel strode into my office. He must have seen Emma sitting at the desk opposite my receptionist. “You, you!” He pointed a thick finger at me as he strode in like a knight in shining Armani. “You should have called me.” He pointed that same finger against his chest.

I stood and held out my hands to cool him. “Agreed. I’ll start now by saying I’m sorry. You had a lot on your plate in California with that actress/client you like so much.”

He smiled briefly then sat heavily in the chair across my desk. I followed suit and waited for him to continue. “That Evan is a piece of shite! Pure dog shite!”

“Yes, he is. But what are you going to do about it, being over here and him being back home?”

Smoke seemed to swirl around his head. “I don’t know!” He took a deep breath.

“I’ve offered Emma a job. Assistant to both of us.”

“And she went for it?” His voice rose in surprise.

“For now. She needs to work and wrap her head around something other than her husband.”

“Soon to be ex-husband!” Nate added.

“One can only hope. As much as we’d like, we don’t get to choose for her. She has to come to that conclusion on her own.”

“Like hell! I’ll draw up the papers today!” he growled. “That bugger thinks he can cheat on my sister. I’ll show him,“ Nathaniel grumbled.

It was almost comical, seeing I’d been accused of doing the same thing just yesterday when Emma brought me a cup of tea. Then he stopped and a smile broke across his clean shaven face. “What did Dad say?”

“I don’t quite know. I spoke with Mum when I called to tell them she was here and what happened.”

Nathaniel nodded and got up. He pressed the buzzer for Jane. “Jane love, can you send our sister in please? Thanks.”

Not knowing what his intentions were, I responded to an email while we waited, letting him stew in his anger. I’d had a few days already to get past the initial fury.

Our baby sister entered, her brown hair pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck. She wore a variation of the suit she’d had on Monday. I needed to have Jane take her shopping or at least set up an account for her at Niemen Marcus so she could get a wardrobe. If she was going to live here awhile, she’d need more than what she packed in one suitcase.

“Baby girl,” Nathaniel opened his arms. She rolled her eyes and sighed but settled into his embrace. “I’m going to draw up some papers for you. Let’s get this situation handled immediately.”

She pushed out of his arms. “What do you mean? What papers?” she asked, her voice high-pitched.

“Divorce papers, of course!”

Her eyes narrowed and her hands went to her hips. Her fingers gripped so hard they turned white. “Did I ask you for divorce papers? You’re not Evan, Nate. And if I wanted to get a divorce, I’d
ask
you for help.”

“So you’re going to stay married to the cheating prick, then?”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do. This just happened. Stop your macho shite and give me a little credit. I need some time. Colly?” She looked to me for help.

“Look, I agree with Emma, Nathaniel. She needs to do this on her own. She knows we can handle her divorce easily enough but she needs the time to make that decision.”

Nathaniel started to pace the room like a caged, ferocious wild animal. “No man hurts my baby sister and gets away with it!”

Emma deflated and stopped him in his third full circle around the room. “Nate, I know you are worried about me. Hey, I’m worried about me. But this happened to
me.
” She pointed to her chest. “Not to
you
,” she pointed to his. Please let me deal with it my way.”

Our baby sister was growing up beautifully. She didn’t need two hot-headed brothers fighting for her honor, even though we’d both love to wrap our hands around the dirty prick’s neck and squeeze until his last breath. Find me a brother who wouldn’t want to do the same in the circumstance.

“Okay, Em, but we’re revisiting this conversation in a month. And
every
month after that until you make up your mind.”

She smiled and hugged him. “You brute! I agree to your terms. Now can I get back to work?”

“Oh yeah, Collier tells me you’ve been offered a job. Are you okay with being assistant to your two over-bearing, though smart and incredibly handsome, brothers? We really do need the help. You’ll whip this office into shape in no time.”

“For now, I’ll accept the assistant title. But, and that’s a big butt--” She slapped Nathaniel hard in the arse. He yelped and I laughed. “--if I stay on and clean this place up, you’ll offer me a pretty penny to stay and a title of my choosing.”

She was definitely related to us. Our sister was a tough negotiator. Having her here would be a blessing.

“Are you okay staying with Collier?” he asked.

“Yes, for now. If I stay more than two or three months, Colly already offered to get me settled in an apartment close to work.”

“Remember that row of apartments we bought a couple years ago?” I reminded Nathaniel and he nodded. “Two of them have leases that are coming up. One already mentioned they are planning on moving out. It’s a perfect flat. Two bedrooms, two baths, a balcony with a view of the city.”

“Sounds like a dream. If and that’s still an ‘if’, I stay,” Emma reinforced.

“Okay, sister mine, have it your way.” I came around and hugged her petite body against me. “I’m going to have Jane set you up an account at Niemen Marcus. If you’re going to work here, you need to dress the part. I’ve seen that suit twice and it’s only Wednesday.” I playfully shook her shoulders back and forth until she smiled.

“You think anyone else noticed?” she asked worriedly.

“No, but we want you to be comfortable. Right mate?”

“Right. I’ll have my doorman send over one of my cars. Since Collier’s housing you and the business is clothing you, it’s my duty to set you up with some wheels and take you out to dinner to feed you. How does that sound, baby girl?”