Hook Up (Taking Chances Book 2) Page 6

  “It’s just sex, Cody. I know the drill. Been there, done that, time of fun is over.”

  “Aimee,” he sighs and dammit if it doesn’t cause my heart to cramp.

  “Please. Just stop,” I grit, snapping my head to him and leveling a glare. “Don’t try convincing me of anything else. I know you, more than I’m willing to admit. Just let it go. It was a mistake.”

  The green in his eyes darkens with frustration. Crinkles appear at the corners as he narrows them. “What are you so damn afraid of? There’s more to it than messing up our perfect circle,” he mocks me.

  “It has everything to do with our circle. When we…this,” I point between us, “is over, or you decide someone else is better for you, or you’re just done, our friends will be in the middle. Your best friend is marrying mine. We have years of cookouts and get-togethers to attend. We’ll both be forced to watch one another fall in love with someone else. That already tastes pretty fucking sour to me, Cody,” I bite.

  “Who said it’ll be over?”

  “Like you can do monogamous,” I snort, rolling my eyes.

  He lifts a daring brow. “Try me.”

  “No thanks. I’m not going to set myself up on purpose to get hurt. I’ll pass.”

  We stare at each other. Hostility rages in my glare. Frustration and something gut-wrenching flares in his. “I’m not him.”

  His words are sharp, lacerating the skin on my chest and slicing my heart into shreds. But I don’t show him. I don’t dare let him see how deep that cut. Instead, I turn away, shutting my eyes to keep the stupid tears at bay.

  When William and I became serious, it was fast, and never once did I doubt the way he felt about me. He showed me in the things he did, the way he looked at me, the words he said. William wasn’t a womanizer. He wasn’t skilled in shit talk to get a girl underneath him. He was real. But Cody? This is his game, and he knows how to play. Noncommittal. It’s who he is.

  I may have one-night stands to quell my inner whore, but the men I sleep with know before we start I’ll never be anything else. I don’t want anything else. I don’t want to feel anything but an orgasm.

  * * *

  Two days home from our vacation, and I’ve come down with the plague of death. I pushed through twelve hours on Monday and Tuesday not feeling well and looking forward to today…my day off. All I want is to sleep, to drown in Nyquil, and to wake up feeling like a million bucks. Unfortunately, my million bucks is tainted, and things are only getting worse.

  This morning, I woke up sweating like a whore in church with a fever of a hundred and one point seven. My body aches in places I didn’t know I had muscles and my head pounds, promising to split my skull and shatter my sinuses. My chest tightens threatening that my next breath will be my last.

  After I swallowed a glass of water and chugged some medicine, I curled back under the comfort of my covers and passed the hell back out.

  A knock on the door causes my eyes to spring open at the throbbing in my head. I don’t know if I imagined it. How much medicine did I take?

  Another knock. I didn’t imagine that one. Dammit. I don’t feel like peopling today.

  Slinking out of the bed, I drag my ass down the hall with a body that feels one hundred pounds heavier and skin that hurts to touch.

  My face scrunches against the sunlight like a vampire when I pull open the door. “Cody? What are you doing here?”

  “Brooklyn said you were sick when I was there last night. Figured I’d stop in and see if you needed anything.” He lifts a container. “And bring you some soup. It’s my grandmother’s recipe. It’ll cure the plague.”

  “Thanks. Leave it on the counter.” I say over my shoulder, waving toward the kitchen as I drag my dead ass back into the bedroom. I drop face first back into the bed, pull the covers up to my neck and kick my leg out of the side. I’m too hot, but I’m too cold. There’s no in between.

  * * *

  It’s late in the evening when I open my eyes again. I know because as the sun sets, light pours in from the blinds in my bedroom. My body screams in agony as I stretch and slide out of bed in search of something to eat. An appetite is a good sign, right? I’m overcoming death.

  As I move down the hallway and into my living room, the sight of Cody scares the shit out of me. I jump, slapping my hand to my chest.

  “Jesus. Cody. What the hell are you doing here?”

  He looks down at the papers and folders scattered across my coffee table and then to the laptop on his lap. “Working. They’re renovating my office. I decided your place was better than mine.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Well, I am working…” He smirks.

  “How’d you get in?”

  His smile slips slightly before he rises to his full six-four height. “You let me in when I knocked.”

  My face pinches, confused, trying to remember, but I can’t.

  “Are you feeling any better?”

  “Why do you care?” I roll my eyes being like the bitch I feel.

  The apple in his throat bobs as he swallows. “We have two days to get you better so you can march down the aisle for Brooklyn’s wedding.”

  “Three,” I correct.

  “Two.”

  “Her wedding is Saturday. I have three days.”

  His lips curl at the sides. “Rehearsal is Friday night.”

  Well, shit. Turning, I head into the kitchen for something to drink and eat as well as medicine. Apparently, I need to feel better ASAP. I open a bottle of water, never having felt so damn parched before.

  “I brought you some soup,” Cody says, leaning his shoulder on the corner. “It’s my grandmother’s recipe. It’s in the fridge.”

  I give him a thumbs up as I down my water, too thirsty to reply.

  “When I was a kid, she’d make it for me every time I was sick. The secret is to eat it, take a shower, and go back to bed,” he says, pulling a container out of the fridge and placing it on the counter.

  “Your grandmother made this for me?” I ask, surprised.

  He gives his head a slight shake and frowns. “She passed away about five years ago. I made it.”

  My eyes slide to him. “You? Is it safe to eat?”

  He chuckles, the deep rumble crawling all over my skin, but instead of the sickly ache, it feels perfect. “Like for me to take a few bites to see if I keel over?”

  Pursing my lips, I squint playfully although it hurts. “I’m too sick to hide your body.”

  He takes the bowl from my hand. “Go sit. I’ll warm some up for you.”

  Okay. What the hell is going on? Have I overdosed on cold medicine? Am I dead now and Cody is somehow in my purgatory?

  “Am I in the twilight zone or some shit?” I squeeze his arm. “You feel real.”

  Cocky Cody appears, dropping his elbow on the counter and bringing his face level with mine. “Do you dream about me a lot?”

  I roll my eyes.

  He laughs. “It’s a serious question. I need to live up to Dream-Cody. Do I cook for you often? Naked? Should I undress?” He starts to unbutton his dress shirt.

  You screw me into oblivion… I think because those are the types of dreams I have. Fantasies.

  I scowl, knowing I should keep that tidbit to myself, and flick my wrist as I walk my ass back into the living room. I plop onto the best, most comfortable oversized chair in the history of ever. It was my first purchase after William left. He had this god-awful brown leather recliner. It was so damn ugly. It didn’t last one week after he left. He didn’t take it and I sure the hell wasn’t going to let it take up space.

  Cody hands me a bowl with a towel around it. With his sleeves rolled up, his arm right in front of me, that’s when I notice his watch. It’s shiny and silver with a black ring around the face and diamonds every five minutes.

  “Did you get validations from the women and respect from your boys when you bought that watch?” I tease, repeating what he had once told me about another g
uy from the park.

  His lips tic as he looks down at it. “Yep. Announced I had it every few feet as I jogged.” He winks. “Eat up.”

  “Is it a Rolex?” I don’t know why I care.

  “This one is, yes.”

  “This one? You have more than one watch?” Why am I really striking up a conversation over things I don’t care about?

  “I do. I don’t wear them to flaunt them.”

  “Ah, yes. You don’t put a watch on a pedestal.” I titter and then take a sip of the soup from my spoon. Immediately, flavors burst over my tongue, shocking my taste buds. My eyes fall shut and I moan. “No way you made this. It’s delicious.”

  “I followed the recipe to the T. Pretty good. Isn’t it?” He sits on the couch watching me. This is by far the best soup I’ve ever tasted and I’ve tasted a lot. This trumps the broccoli and cheese from Panera, which is saying a lot.

  Grinning from ear to ear, Cody picks up his laptop and goes back to work while I eat, but after ten minutes when I’m stuffed and unable to finish the bowl, I tap out.

  “You done?” he asks, setting the laptop to the cushion and grabbing the bowl when I nod. “Go take a shower.”

  I’d argue if a shower didn’t sound so good.

  TEN

  Sure, I’m not just taking care of Aimee because of the wedding although I’m desperately trying to get her better so she doesn’t take down the bride and groom or is unable to make it. Aimee would never forgive herself if she missed it. To be honest, it feels good to take care of her, to show her I’m not just going to fuck her and bounce. William burned her to a crisp and I’m trying to bring her back to life because she is what I want. I could care less about “our friends” not approving. Nathan would give me shit for a few days and get over it once he sees my true intentions.

  I’ve called Mary to let her know I’m going to be late and grabbed breakfast for Aimee. Thankfully, she doesn’t live that far from the office.

  She doesn’t look as bad today as she did yesterday. Her skin isn’t as dull, and the circles under her eyes are less dark. Her hair has been brushed and pulled into a low side ponytail.

  “I’m still alive. Barely,” she titters, which is also a good sign.

  Lifting the white plastic bag, I smile. “I brought breakfast.”

  Perplexed, her eyes squint slightly. “Why?”

  “Now you have one day to feel better.” It’s my go-to excuse. I’m certain she wouldn’t go for the truth right now, so it’s my “in.”

  She steps out of the way so I can enter. “Are you not afraid you’ll get sick? Then you’ll miss the wedding.”

  “I’ve got the immune system of a rock. It’s solid. I’m good,” I promise, setting the bag on the counter and pulling out the ham and cheese omelet.

  She grabs a glass of orange juice from the coffee table in the living room and then settles at the kitchen island. “What? You can’t make breakfast?” she teases.

  “Unfortunately, I’ve never mastered omelets without burning the shit out of one side. And the ham and cheese omelet from Hillcrest is the best in the city.” I push the Styrofoam plate to her. “Do you still have a fever?”

  “It broke last night.”

  Pleased, I hum. “That would be the soup working. Are you going to work today?”

  She shakes her head. “No. I called Savannah and asked her to cover me until Monday. She was thrilled for the money. Not so much about all the appointments.”

  I give a curt nod as her mouth wraps around the fork. “I’ll be right back.” Pushing out the door, I stroll to my Durango to grab my briefcase and call Mary. If Aimee’s at home, my plans have changed.

  “Mary, I won’t be in at all today. Forward my calls to my cell and move my meeting to tomorrow morning, please.”

  “Will do. Is everything okay?”

  “I’m feeling a little under the weather.” The lie tastes shitty. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been too sick to work.

  “Make sure you make your grandmother’s soup. You can’t feel under the weather for Mr. Bennett’s wedding.”

  I chuckle under my breath. She knows how I swear by my grandmother’s soup. She’s been a recipient of it a few times over the last six years.

  “Already a step ahead of you.”

  After disconnecting the call, I head back into Aimee’s house and drop my briefcase onto the couch. Aimee eyes me skeptically as I loosen my tie and shrug out of my jacket, tossing them on the edge of her couch.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Camping out here again.”

  “I’m fine.” Her words say one thing but her face the another.

  “Good. Then we’ll be fine together. They’re still renovating my office.”

  She’s ready to call my bluff. The argument is cocked, loaded, and ready to fire. Her head tilts and her mouth pops open, but then it closes. She drops her fork with a loud clang and shoves off the stool. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  “Need me to wash your back?” I waggle my brows.

  She shoots me a hard scowl. “I need you to leave.”

  I drop to the couch, spread my arms across the back and smirk. “I’ll be here when you get out.”

  With a huff, she disappears down the hallway. I set up my makeshift office, settling in for the day.

  Once Aimee took a shower, she curled up into the fluffed-up chair, pulled a yellow throw blanket down on top of her, and started watching a daytime talk show. It hasn’t been twenty minutes and she’s fast asleep. The lines of her face are soft, her lips relaxed and not holding onto an ounce of emotion. Picturing sucking on that pouty bottom lip makes my dick twitch and immediately, I look away to busy myself in work.

  My phone begins to vibrate beside me, Nathan’s name flashing. Quietly, I grab it and sneak down the hallway into the bathroom so I don’t wake Aimee up.

  “What’s up?”

  “Mary informed me that you’re sick too?” Worry is evident in his tone.

  “I fudged the truth. I’m actually at Aimee’s,” I admit.

  “For?” he retorts, the previous worry gone.

  “She’s sick as hell, man. I’m trying to help her get better before the wedding. The last thing Brooklyn needs is to be a bridesmaid down on her wedding day.”

  “You and I both know what you’re doing.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Chasing after something because you can’t have it.”

  I laugh under my breath. “I can’t have it? Why’s that?”

  He sighs. “Just put some thought into this before you go messing around. After you’re bored and finished with her, you’ll see her a lot. She’s Brooklyn’s best friend. It’s inevitable.”

  “Are you the only one allowed to be happy? I missed that memo. If you recall, Brooklyn wouldn’t even be marrying your ass if it weren’t for me cleaning up your multi-screw-ups.”

  “Is girlfriend in your vocabulary or do you still flinch at the word?”

  I’ll admit. That low blow stings. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, friend.”

  He exhales a heavy breath.

  “You of all people should know I’m calculated. If the risk isn’t worth it, I wouldn’t go for it. The one time I make the effort, a true fucking effort, you think it’s for falsified reasons. Want the truth? I like her and have for a while. So fucking forgive me for trying.”

  “Cody…” he trails off for a pregnant moment. “You realize how quickly this can get messy if it goes south?”

  “I do.”

  “Okay,” he says on an exhale. “Just try not to fuck it up.”

  “That’s my plan. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow.”

  * * *

  Aimee is still sleeping as I continue to work and catch up on matters that had to wait while I was on vacation. My stomach grumbles as the sun starts to set. Trying to keep quiet, I close my laptop and clean up the folders and papers, stuffing them into my briefcase. My back is stiff from sitting on soft cush
ions with no support for hours. Stretching as I stand, I make my way into the kitchen and look in the fridge for something to eat. I’m disappointed at the lack of food and grab my phone to scroll through the local restaurants with one jumping out at me—a diner about ten minutes away. Grabbing her keys off the hook so I’ll have a way back in, I sneak out of the house and head off.

  I’ve only been gone twenty-five minutes when I step back into the house carrying dinner as quietly as possible. She hasn’t moved an inch. I search her cabinets for plates, place the food on them, and bring them into the living room.

  Gently, I feel her forehead and am relieved that she’s still not running a fever. Her eyes flutter open and she blinks a few times before glancing up to me.

  “You still dreaming of me?” I tease with a smile.

  Her brows pull together. “You’re still here?”

  “I got dinner.”

  Pushing the covers off, she sits up and stretches as she heads to the kitchen. “Seriously, Cody. Why are you still here?”

  I ignore her question. “Do you feel better?”

  “Think so. I’m not fully awake yet to tell.”

  I bless her with a charming smile, curving my lips up. “That is why I’m here. You’ll be radiating your beauty tomorrow and more so the next day.” I step in front of her, staring into her eyes, and tug a loose strand of hair that has fallen around her face. “Besides, I find I like taking care of you.”

  Something crosses over her face. A storm cloud swirls in her irises. “You don’t have to do this.” Her tone sounds bitter around the edges.

  “I know. But I want to.”

  She swallows, averting her gaze to the food on the counter. “Which one is mine?” She points to the sandwiches.

  “Pick one. I didn’t know what you liked.”

  I watch as she switches two halves, placing one part with the other. She rips a paper towel from the roll, picks up her plate and walks past me back to her chair, icy cold swishing in the air behind her.

  “Is this from 12th and Main?” she asks around a bite as I sit with my plate in my lap.

  “It is.”