In Her Best Friend's Bed

“Oh, shit!” He became cognizant of the mess at his feet and bent to clean it up. “I’m sorry.” He stared at the floor, trying to look away from her, attending to the glass. “I didn’t even know you were in here.” He raised his hand and turned his head slightly. “What are you doing in here?”

“I came in here to change out of my suit.” In his periphery he could see her turn her back to him and pull her tank top over her head. “What are you doing here?”

“This is my office.” When Trevor looked up a little, he caught her dark, distorted reflection in the screen of the turned-off computer monitor on his desk. He felt like a lecher, but he couldn’t force his eyes away.

“But you’re early,” she protested. He watched her reflection as she straightened her shirt over her chest and down to her waist. And she huffed out a breath that made her breasts rise and then fall. “I’m done. You can turn around now.”

Trevor did as she told him. She was fully dressed, stuffing her business suit into her duffel bag. She didn’t look at him.

“I’m sorry,” she said with an outward breath. “I shouldn’t have used your office.”

“It’s fine. Use it anytime you want,” he told her. “I’ll just knock when the door is closed. Who knows when there will be a half-naked woman in here?” He laughed.

“Knowing what I do about you, it really could happen at any time,” she retorted, one eyebrow raised.

Trevor frowned at her approximation of him; nothing like that had ever happened to him at work. “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you. I really didn’t know that you were in here.”

Abby laughed and pushed past him. “You didn’t embarrass me at all. I know I look good naked.” She winked at him and walked behind the bar to start work.

Trevor exhaled roughly and watched her. He replayed her words in his brain: I know I look good naked.

Yeah, he thought. No lie there.

* * *

IT WAS A few hours later, and Abby ducked into the small backroom off the bar for a quick, much-needed break to sit down and drink some water. Her feet were sore—why did she always opt to wear heels to work? She rolled her ankles and pulled out her cell phone. On the screen she saw a notification of a missed call from a number that was only vaguely familiar to her. She dialed her voice mail. The mystery was soon solved when the message started playing, and she realized it was the voice of Michael Arnett, the man who had interviewed her earlier that day.

She turned the volume up on her phone, so she could hear over the din of the club. “Hello, Ms. Shaw,” Arnett’s voice on the recorded message sounded in her ear. “I’m just calling to let you know that we really enjoyed meeting you today...”

She smiled and sat straight. This is it.

“But we have decided to go in another direction with hiring for the position. We’ll keep you in mind in the future. Good luck in your job search.”

Abby disconnected the phone and slumped in her chair, huffing out a frustrated breath. She thought that she’d completely killed that interview, and to find out that she hadn’t gotten the job—well, it sucked.

This night just keeps getting better and better...

Abby frowned and mentally checked off yet another opportunity that she’d missed. She glanced at her watch—just over four hours left before she could go home and wallow in self-pity. She might as well get back out there. She’d been away from the bar for five minutes, leaving Trevor on his own. She stood and opened the door, and she looked out at the bar. Trevor somehow managed to keep the place going on his own. He didn’t really need her back there and she was certain he only offered her the job to be nice. She wasn’t a great bartender and she felt she was in his way most of the time. But he never complained.

With a sigh, she walked behind the bar and plastered her biggest smile on her face—as phony as a three-dollar bill. She was bummed, but she wouldn’t let it get in the way of doing her job. She might only be a bartender, but for now it was her job and she would do her best.

Trevor caught her eye and gave her a curious look, furrowing his brows at her. She shook her head, dismissing him. He watched her for a moment longer before returning to his work and letting her get on with hers.

* * *

WHEN LAST CALL sounded and all the patrons had stumbled out, Trevor took a deep breath, exhausted. They were busy, maybe even busier than they had been the night before. Spring break meant a bigger crush of new faces, in addition to loyal locals, in the bar. Financially, it was great. Jamie would be happy with the numbers and Trevor and Abby had both benefited as well, but they’d worked their asses off for their tips.

Trevor locked the door and watched Abby as she wet a blue cloth with sanitizer and started cleaning up. He knew that there was definitely something going on with her. Ever since she’d taken her break, her demeanor had changed. Sure, she was smiling, but he knew better. He knew it was fake. Something had upset her. But what?

“Everything okay over there?” he called out to her, approaching the bar.

“Yeah, fine,” she responded, scrubbing a spot on the stainless steel without looking up.

Trevor wasn’t at all convinced. He walked back to her, leaning against the bar. “Are you sure? It looks like something is bothering you.”

“No,” she started. “Well, yes.” She threw down her rag. “I got a call about my interview this morning...”

“Really?” Trevor was interested. He hoped for a happy ending to her story, but, by the look on her face, he knew it was anything but.

“Yeah, I didn’t get it. They went in another direction. HR speak for ‘you suck and never come back.’”

He frowned. “You don’t suck, Abby. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks.”

So that was it. She was disappointed that she hadn’t gotten the job. Trevor wasn’t looking forward to losing her, but he didn’t like to see her beautiful smile faltering from frustration and disappointment. Trevor hated to see her upset. He reached into the beer cooler under the bar and withdrew two bottles. He popped the top off one and passed it to Abby.

She accepted it, raising an eyebrow. “Drinking on the job? That’s not like you.”

He shrugged and opened his own beer before he began wiping down the counters. “We had a crazy night here. I think we’ve earned it.”

She nodded. “That’s true. Thank you.” She saluted him with the green bottle and took a long swallow.

He watched her meticulously tidy the counter behind her and arrange the liquor bottles, making sure they were located on the appropriate shelves and the spouts were clean. While the servers were responsible for making sure the rest of the club was clean, he and Abby concentrated on the bar and making sure the cash registers and the bank deposit balanced at the end of the night.

They cleaned side by side, not talking, both using extra force to scrub the surfaces, whether it was necessary or not. Trevor wondered if they were both taking out their frustration—sexual or otherwise—on the countertops. They cleaned and then recleaned. Trevor normally insisted on a spotless bar, but they were in danger of entirely wiping the chrome from the bar top.

The cocktail servers had all finished their own work and left by the time Trevor and Abby pulled away from the now-immaculate bar area. Trevor looked around and realized they were alone in the building.

Abby threw down her cloth and finally proclaimed their work done. She disposed of their empty beer bottles, and he watched her as she stretched to reach the bottles on the top shelf behind the bar. Trevor couldn’t help but appreciate the length of her body, her shirt riding up to give him a peek at the smooth skin on her back, and he saw the top of the butterfly tattoo that he knew was there, just above her hip. He managed to somehow avert his eyes just in time as she turned around holding a bottle of expensive tequila and two shot glasses.

He looked at her bounty, eyebrow raised in question. She ignored him as she poured two shots. “I’m in need of something a little stronger than beer tonight,” she explained. “What do you say?”

“Yeah, what the hell?” he said with a smile. He took the shot she offered before he turned back to the cash register and began counting the money.

Abby took her shot, as well, and then she glanced around the bar. He knew she was looking for something else to clean. “Why don’t you go sit down?” he told her. “I just need a couple of minutes here.” It was a rule that the staff always leave the club in groups at the end of the night. He didn’t want any of them vulnerable late at night in the parking lot. Who knew what kind of drunks or weirdos were out there?

“Sure.” Abby shrugged her shoulders and, taking the tequila bottle, she walked to a nearby table.

Trevor removed the money from the register and looked up briefly to see her pour another shot, a frown taking over her entire gorgeous face.

“You’ll find something, Abby,” he told her. Her eyes rose from her bottle to hit his directly, her gaze cutting a path straight to his belly. “Just keep at it. You’re a catch. Any business would be lucky to have you. I know I am.” A swell of melancholy rose in his chest, for her sadness and his own. He would miss her like crazy if she worked anywhere else.

“Does that mean I can use you as a reference?” she asked with a mirthful smile, before raising the shot glass to her mouth and knocking back the tequila.

Trevor laughed, but the sound died as he watched the muscles in her delicate throat bounce as she swallowed the liquor. When she brought the glass down to the table, it hit with a heavy clink. How much time did he spend watching Abby while she looked absolutely sexy doing completely mundane things? “Pour me another?” he asked, shoving his glass across the bar. She did as he asked, and then she poured her own.

“You trying to get me drunk?”

“I would never think of it,” he said with a wink. “Plus, I’m not the one pouring.”

“Well, I can’t let you drink alone,” she explained carefully.

“How generous of you,” he said, laughing, and lofted his shot glass. “Sláinte,” he said. He felt the second shot hit his belly, not as harsh as the first. But he was glad that she’d selected a smoother, higher-end tequila for their bingeing. Trevor didn’t think he could handle the burn of a cheaper brand.

“What’s that?”

“An Irish toast. A cheers to good health. My old man used to say it a lot before he took a drink.”

“Sláinte,” she repeated. “I like it.”

“I’m pretty certain that neither of us can drive home now,” he took a breath, the tequila starting to hit him in the pit of his empty stomach.

Abby shrugged as she sauntered back to her table. Trevor couldn’t help but notice the sway of her hips under her short skirt. She threw a look over her shoulder. “I don’t live far. I’ll walk. And I’m not quite ready to head home to an empty apartment just yet. Plus, I’m having fun relaxing right here. It’s been a long time since we’ve hung out.”

“It has been far too long,” Trevor agreed, closing the register with an authoritative slam. He finished with the cash duties by printing off the sales receipts and totaling the nightly deposit. He could officially call it another great night in the books, as he looked over the numbers. The bar was doing well in his capable hands, if he did say so himself.

He picked up a stack of bills and left the bar to sit with Abby at the booth. He cut the stack in half and passed over her share of the tips.

Abby took her money. “Nice. Thanks.”

“Pretty good night, huh?”

Abby flicked through the stack of bills with her thumb. “It sure was.”

“What are you going to do with your vast riches?” he asked her, joking, pocketing his own share.

“Well, I think I’m going to splurge on some grand luxuries.” She sighed wistfully. “You know, things like electricity, cell phone bill—ooh, there’s some really fancy bread and milk that I’ve been dying to try,” she finished with a laugh.

Trevor laughed with her, but she worried him. He frowned. “Are you doing okay, financially? I can schedule you for more hours, or I can float you a loan, if you want.”

She shook her head and put a hand on his arm. Her light touch made his heart stutter in his chest. “Trevor, I’m fine. It was just a joke. Ha-ha. Sure, it’s a little harder to pay the rent with Maya gone. But I am fine. See?” She picked up the stack of bills in front of her and waved it in Trevor’s face.

“Thanks to you, I’ve got a job where I make fat stacks of cash and I can drink for free.” For emphasis she poured two more shots. After she swallowed, she giggled. “I’ll be fine until I find a real job.” She smacked a palm to her forehead. “Oh, shit, I’m sorry. I know this is your job. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine, Abby,” he assured her, sweeping a hand through the air of the empty club. “All of this is my kingdom.”

“You certainly get your pick of the ladies in the kingdom, that’s for sure.”

Trevor frowned again. He didn’t normally use the club to pick up women. He never overserved them to make them bend to his will, and he never went for the college girls, who were always trying to get him in bed... And he never let his staff see him go home with a woman. He didn’t want to set a bad example and have them to think it was okay or an acceptable business practice. But he wondered where she got the idea that he did.

“What are you talking about?” While he had been a bit wild in the past, he wasn’t the man whore that she seemed to think he was. He hadn’t even been with anyone in months. While Trevor didn’t normally care what people thought of him, it stung that Abby had a negative opinion of him. What she thought mattered to him.

“You know,” Abby said, with a slight slur. “That woman last night, that girl in Vegas...”

When Abby trailed off, Trevor was surprised. “What girl?” It was the first time either of them had mentioned their trip to Sin City.

“That girl at Jamie’s party,” she went on. “After we parted ways, I went back to my room, you met her at the bar.”

“You came back to the party?” Trevor narrowed his eyes at her. He barely remembered the woman who had sat beside him at the bar in Vegas.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

She scoffed. “Why does it matter? You were otherwise occupied.”

“That’s not how it was, Abby—” He wanted to clear the air, explain that he wasn’t the complete horndog player that she apparently thought he was. “You’ve got the wrong idea. I didn’t spend the night with her. I finished my drink and went to bed. Alone. And that woman last night? I called her a cab and waited here until she was in it.”

“It’s okay!” she insisted. “You’re a guy. You have those typical male urges. And you’re hot. I see how women look at you and how you talk to them. You’re smooth. I’m surprised you don’t have to beat the women off with a stick every night.”

Trevor leaned back, away from her touch, and cleared his throat roughly around the lump that had formed there. Abby wasn’t far off. He was often on the receiving end of female attention, but what he couldn’t tell her was that, since that night in Vegas, he hadn’t been interested in any other woman who came on to him. They were quiet for a moment. “So, any new fellows on the scene?” he asked her, hoping to steer the conversation away from himself.

Abby poured another shot, knocked it back and laughed bitterly. “No,” she said. “There are certainly no fellows—new or otherwise—on the scene. Oh! I haven’t told you, have I?”

“Told me what?”

“Well, after I ended things with Luke a few months back, I decided to give up men,” she said, slamming her glass to the table with a loud thud.

“You’re giving up men?” he asked. “What do you mean?”

“Exactly what I said. I’m no longer in the dating game.”

“So, you’re never going to date again?” He paused. “What about sex?” He crossed his arms, creating a safe distance between them.

She paused. “What about it?”

“Well,” he said, his smile smug, “I can’t be the only one with those typical urges. What are you going to do to fulfill those?”

“I didn’t say that I was giving up sex.” Abby rolled her eyes. “I’m just not going to be dating anymore. No more relationships.”

“Okay.” Trevor was still skeptical, but he was intrigued. “So, what exactly brought this about?”

“I’m glad you asked, Trevor. Let me tell you...” Her words ran together a little and he knew that they should go home, but he was having a great time. She held up her hand and grasped one finger in her other hand. “One—my tendency is to only go for these guys who want to settle down and get married immediately, and then expect me to have, like, twelve babies.” She screwed up her face in a scowl. “You know that’s not me. Never has been. And I always let them know where I stand on that. I tell them not to fall in love with me. I can’t help it that they do.” She stopped to take a breath. Trevor knew she wasn’t finished. “Then there’s all the losers, bad boys, playboys. I don’t want any more of those boys. There’ve been too many of those. So I decided that it’s best to not see any of them.”

“Okay,” Trevor said carefully. “Makes sense. Anything else?”

“Why, yes, there is.” Abby continued her list, grasping her second finger in her other hand. “Number two—at this point in my life, I can’t afford to be distracted from my path. I’ve been out of school for...what? Almost a year? I’m still here at Swerve, and again, I’m superappreciative,” she added for Trevor’s benefit, “but this isn’t how I imagined my life going. So if I were to meet a guy who I would even consider dating, he would only take up valuable energy that I need to make up for lost time and get back on the track where I should be.”

“Sure.” Trevor nodded. “And what about number three?” he asked, pouring them each another shot. He would definitely be paying for this in the morning. It had been a while since he’d had this much to drink in such a short span of time.

“Three—” Abby grasped a third finger. “Number three is my favorite. There’s nothing a man can regularly give me that my best vibrator can’t. And it won’t leave the toilet seat up.” She picked up her glass, sloshing the gold-colored liquor over the sides, spilling over her fingers. “Sláinte!” She drank and slammed her glass on the table.

Trevor’s eyes widened and he almost choked on the tequila that was still in his mouth. He managed to swallow it without spitting it across the table. “A man can’t give you anything more than your best vibrator can?” he laughed. “Is that so?”

Abby winked at him. “Diamonds aren’t always a girl’s best friend, Trevor. It’s a sad truth how replaceable you men are.” She shrugged. “Don’t look so shattered.”

“Honey, I’m not shattered,” he assured her, his voice lowered, and he moved in slightly. “I’m just sad. If you think a man is completely replaceable by a battery-operated appliance, then I’m afraid that none of the men you’ve been with have really, truly rocked your world.”

“Rocked my world?”

“That’s right,” he said casually.

Abby laughed. “Don’t worry about my world and how much it gets rocked. Unless you’re offering, that is.” She raised an eyebrow and reached out and touched his chest. The touch, playful at first, soon turned serious as her fingers lingered.

He had absolutely no response to that. Was he offering? So he chuckled instead. That was one of the things he liked about Abby. She was brash, funny and sassy. He liked all of that. She still had her hand on his chest.

Trevor looked down, watching Abby’s fingers curl over the material of his shirt, her fingernails singeing the skin underneath. She flattened her palm and smoothed it over his chest, and his breath stilled as he watched her hand move back and forth over his pecs. His muscles tensed in an involuntary reaction. His gaze rose from her fingers to her parted lips. How she made her cherry-red lipstick last all night, he had no idea.

He opened his mouth to speak, but how could he do that when his tongue refused to work in his mouth?

“Abby,” he whispered. He barely heard the murmur as it passed his lips, and he didn’t imagine that she’d heard it, either. But she looked up at him, her gaze didn’t waver, and all that Trevor was aware of was her hand on him, the pounding in his chest and the quick rush of blood that quickly made its way south, away from his brain, depositing directly in his lap.

In the center of his chest, her hand stopped moving, but she kept it where it was, light pressure on his sternum. There was no way that she could have missed the thundering of his heart, threatening to beat clear through his chest. The noise of it in his own ears was deafening. Neither of them spoke, and his eyes pinned on to hers. “Abby,” he whispered again.

Their breaths were matched, heavy. And she was so close to him that he could feel her warmth, smell the scent of citrus from her shampoo. She leaned in and looked up at him with large green eyes. A short tendril of hair fell into her eyes, and he reached out and brushed it aside. Need tugged at his chest and his dick. How easy it would be to pull her to him, rip off all of their clothes and make love to her in the booth.

But Trevor took a deep breath. They were friends, he maintained. He couldn’t have her. As long as she worked for him, he wouldn’t let himself have her. He was stuck in a volatile situation—the two of them, alone, drinking, and then add to this the fact that he’d seen her naked earlier that evening and knew she was absolutely flawless underneath the clothing that she was wearing...

“We should leave,” he murmured, trying to regain a hold on the situation. He placed his hand over hers. At first, he thought he would remove it, but he was powerless to push her away. So he held her there, her palm pressed against his chest.

“Yeah, we should,” she said breathlessly. She looked up at him and he peered into her bright green eyes. “Walk me home?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

* * *

ABBY BLINKED TWICE. Her brain was telling her that she needed to stand up. That they were leaving. But she couldn’t communicate that to her legs. She was frozen in place.

“Abby?” His voice broke through the fog behind her eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Are we leaving?” He removed his hand from hers and she pulled away from him.

“Uh, yeah,” she responded. “Let’s go.” She pushed away from the booth, and Trevor stood, as well. Her cheeks felt hot and his were reddened, too. Her gaze traveled down his front and settled on the impressive bulge behind his zipper, which showed that he was as affected by her as she was by him.

They were silent as they walked to the door. Trevor grabbed their jackets from the backroom and passed Abby hers. When he held the door open for Abby, she stepped outside. The night air had become much chillier since she’d arrived at the club earlier that day, and the small jacket that she had worn over her work clothes had little to no effect in keeping her warm, and, with Trevor weighing on her mind, she hadn’t thought to change into the suit she’d worn that day. Thank God she lived only a couple of blocks from the club and their walk would be a short one. Abby wrapped her jacket even tighter and folded her arms over her breasts.

“It sure is cold,” she muttered through teeth that almost chattered. “I kind of wish we were back in Vegas.”

Trevor’s head whipped around to look at her, and Abby knew that his mind had gone where hers had—to their kiss on the roof of Swerve. She hadn’t meant to mention it, and she often avoided talking about the city at all, lest they think about what could have been that night, if they hadn’t been interrupted, if Abby had let him walk her to her room, if she hadn’t seen him talking to another woman when she’d returned to the party. They thankfully hadn’t gotten a chance to finish the kiss, but it was obvious that the sexual tension still crackled between them, and at the moment, it was still very close to the surface.

She heard Trevor huff out a breath and he stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, at least winter is almost over. Spring will be here soon enough.”