Vested Interest Box Set Books 4-7 Page 3

  I didn’t deny her words. I was too busy searching the internet looking for other Yoda merchandise to make her smile.

  I gathered my stuff, shoving it into my messenger bag. I had changed my shirt, brushed my hair, yet when I looked in the mirror I was still a mess. I needed to ask Maddox how he always managed to look so . . . unwrinkled. However, I decided against it. He might try to take me shopping. Maybe I would ask Sandy—she loved looking after me, and she would be all over giving me advice.

  I walked to Becca’s, stopping to grab coffee on the way. The little corner shop next door to the coffee place had buckets of flowers outside. I gazed at them, wondering if Bentley was right about when to give flowers, or if I should listen to Aiden. A stooped, old woman wearing an apron, with her gray hair piled high on her head, shuffled outside and offered me a smile.

  “You like?” she asked, her English fragmented.

  “They are pretty.”

  “For your girlfriend?”

  I sighed. “I wish. Just a friend, unfortunately.”

  She gave me a huge smile, the movement deepening the wrinkles in her face. Reaching up, she patted my cheek. “Give it time. You a good-looking boy.”

  I chuckled.

  She bent and plucked a small bunch of daisies from a bucket. “Here. Bright. Pretty. Not too much, yes? To say have a nice day.” She winked. “Soon, you bring her roses. I promise.”

  I laughed and handed her the five dollars the sign displayed for the flowers. I wasn’t going to argue with her logic. I liked it. I didn’t know if Becca liked roses, but I was willing to find out. I’d bring her any kind of flower she liked.

  Have a nice day. That worked.

  The intercom was full of static, but Becca knew who it was and buzzed me up to her apartment. When she opened the door, she looked so different from how she did at the office, and I tried not to gape. I certainly stared. Her hair was long and loose, cascading down her back like a ribbon of dark silk. She wore leggings and a T-shirt that hugged her curves. Her feet were bare, the toenails bright red.

  Her eyes widened with delight when she saw the flowers. “For me?”

  I couldn’t resist teasing her. “No, I was gonna take them home—give the place some ambiance, you know?”

  She blinked, her cheeks coloring, and the odd shyness I’d caught glimpses of appeared. I liked knowing I could bring that out in her. It made me braver than normal.

  I thrust the small bouquet toward her. “Sorry, I was teasing again. Yes, for you.”

  “Why?”

  I shrugged. “To make you smile.”

  “Reid,” she breathed out. “How incredibly thoughtful. I love them!” She leaned up on her toes and brushed a kiss to my cheek. The gesture was sweet, and I enjoyed how her lips felt on me. I wanted to feel them all over me. She was close enough I could smell the scent of her skin—it was light and airy, reminding me of flowers and sun. I resisted sniffing her.

  “Come in.”

  I followed her in, trying not to notice how the leggings clung to her perky ass and toned legs. It was impossible. It was a great ass. My cock agreed with me and I had to adjust myself before she turned around.

  I set down my bag and took in her apartment. The kitchen was small but nice, the living area a good size. The kitchen was open, separated with a tall counter, and she had two stools tucked underneath. There was a small sofa in front of the window with a chair beside it. A little table sat in the corner, and she had a compact desk. Leaning against the wall were some shelves, the brackets on the floor. The rest of the room was empty.

  “I’m still unpacking,” she explained. “I left the things I dislike to the last.”

  “You dislike?”

  “Putting up the shelves, hanging pictures. When I use a hammer, I seem to hit my thumb more often than the nail.”

  I grabbed the opportunity and indicated the shelves. “Do you need some help to put those up?”

  Her eyes glowed, making her blue irises brilliant.

  “Really?”

  “Sure, I can do that.” I glanced around. “Hang your pictures, hook up your electronics. That sort of thing.” I met her gaze. “I’m your guy.”

  For everything, I added in my head.

  She wrinkled her nose, which made her look adorable. “I don’t have many electronics.”

  I gaped at her. “What?”

  “It’s so complicated. I rarely watch TV, so I don’t have one yet.” She tapped a component sitting on the counter. “I enjoy music. I use my Bose system a lot.”

  “What about streaming? Netflix?” I loved my computers, but nothing beat watching a movie or TV show on the big screen.

  She grimaced, pulling open a cabinet and taking out a small vase. “I’m great with computers and software, but to be honest, electronics overwhelm me. If there is a show I enjoy, I stream it on my laptop.” She filled the vase with water, adding the flowers. Smiling, she set them on the counter.

  “I can’t remember the last time someone gave me flowers. My dad, probably. These are so pretty!”

  I felt about ten feet tall.

  “I could hook it all to your TV once you buy one.” I pointed to the empty space in her living room. “I could also set up a sweet system. You have lots of space.”

  “Oh, ah, I have something coming that will take up a lot of room.”

  “You do have some electronics?”

  “Um, no. I gave up. If I wanted to watch a movie, I usually went to Richard and Katy’s place.”

  “You’re pretty close to them?”

  “Yes. I miss them already.”

  I looked down as I spoke. “I’m glad you’re here, though.”

  She covered my hand with hers, squeezing it. “Thank you. I’m glad too.”

  Our gazes met, holding in silence.

  It was the perfect chance. I could ask her if she wanted me to take her around, show her Toronto. Spend some time getting to know me. But the words died before I could speak them. Then she glanced away, and the moment was gone.

  Clearing my throat, I picked up a cup, took off the lid, and sipped at the coffee. “Okay, we can figure something out.” I handed her the other cup. “Just tell me what you need.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Anytime.”

  I grabbed my messenger bag, a notebook, and a pen. “Can I take some measurements and look around?”

  “Yes.”

  A buzzer went off, and for the first time, I noticed the aroma in the kitchen.

  I inhaled deeply. “Do I smell peanut butter?”

  Becca smiled and slid a tray from the oven. “Cookies for when you’re done. To say thank you.”

  I eyed the tray, but she laughed, waving me away. “Too hot. Do your work, then you can eat them.”

  “Okay.”

  * * *

  I returned to the living room. Becca was at the counter, tapping on her laptop. A plate of cookies sat beside her. I reached over, snagged one, and took a bite.

  “Oh God, these are amazing. Peanut butter is my favorite.”

  “Good.”

  I pulled out the other stool. “May I?”

  She laughed. “Of course.”

  She pushed a bottle of water my way. “Got everything you needed?”

  “Yeah. I’ll change the lock for the same kind we have in Ridge Towers. The camera is wireless. I’ll need to add the software to your laptop and phone for you. You can control it, look to see who is at your door, unlock it remotely. It’s a good lock too. You’ll be safe.”

  “Is that all it does?”

  “No, it has a lot of features. Maddox’s connects to his concierge desk, and he can talk to them directly, have deliveries sent straight up, check out visitors. I’ll set it up so you can use your phone to buzz people in from the front door.”

  She chuckled, reaching for a cookie. “I’ll never get off the sofa.”

  I snagged another cookie. “Once we figure out what you want, I can set up a bunch of features for your electron
ics and your music. Some wireless speakers would work well in here.”

  “That would be awesome, but I don’t want to take advantage.”

  I wanted her to take advantage. Especially of me. In every way possible. I cleared my throat and shifted on the stool. “Nope. I offered, and I meant it.”

  “Thank you, Reid.” She bit down on her cookie, a few crumbs sticking to her mouth. She swept her tongue over her bottom lip, and I had to bite back my groan.

  I wanted to kiss her.

  She tilted her head. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” Desperate to change the subject, I waved toward the shelves. “Do I need to bring stuff over to hang those?”

  “I have a little toolbox my dad insisted I should own. There’s no drill though, and I’m not sure I have the things that hold them up.”

  “You mean anchors?”

  “Yes.”

  “I can bring those and a drill. And we’ll need a level. I have all that.”

  Or I would once I went to the hardware store.

  “Are you sure?”

  I bobbed my head in agreement. “Yep. When would you like me to hang them?”

  “Oh, whenever you have time.”

  “I can swing by on the weekend. Tomorrow works, if you’re free.”

  She frowned. “That’s two of your Saturdays I would be taking. You must have plans . . . with your girlfriend . . . ?” She let the words trail off, not meeting my eyes.

  “No. No girlfriend.”

  “Oh.” That was all she said, but I noticed the way her mouth curled at the corners, as if she was fighting a smile.

  “I-I won’t be interfering with your, ah, significant other coming to visit?” I asked, my throat dry.

  She met my gaze, shaking her head. “No. There isn’t one.”

  We both smiled, our eyes locking. Her gaze skittered away, the light flush appearing on her cheeks once more. I had to stop myself from reaching over to feel if her skin was warm.

  “So what do you have coming for this spot?” I asked, indicating the empty space behind me. “A dining room table or something?”

  She bit her lip, leaning her chin on the palm of her hand. “No, I’m good with the counter. I don’t do dinner parties.”

  “A new desk?”

  “No,” she repeated. “I use the space for exercise.”

  “Oh, like yoga?” I knew Cami, Emmy, and Dee had taken up yoga recently.

  She tilted her head, studying me as I took a large mouthful of my water.

  “No, I use a stripper pole.”

  My throat closed, mid-swallow.

  Until that very moment, I had no idea how far I could spray water.

  Apparently, it was really far.

  Reid

  I checked the contents of my bag, yanking the zipper shut. I had enough screws, nails, and anchors to hang the contents of a museum. My drill and level would be well used today. I glanced at my watch, wondering if eight a.m. was too early to show up at Becca’s apartment.

  After I had imitated a fountain the previous night, she had scrambled off the stool, grabbed a towel for me, and patted me on the back as I choked.

  “I’m so sorry,” she exclaimed. “I didn’t mean to!”

  I drew in some much-needed oxygen and mopped the counter in front of me. “No problem. I wasn’t expecting the joke. My bad.” I glanced at her. “Did I get you?”

  She shook her head, eyes dancing. “No.”

  “Good.”

  She shrugged. “Even if you had, it’s only water. What’s a little spit between friends?”

  Luckily, my bottle was only partway to my lips, or I would have choked again. I had to bite my tongue in order not to tell her I would like to trade spit with her. Instead, I cleared my throat and swallowed the last of my water. I slid off the stool, wiping my hand down my damp shirt.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow. What time is good?”

  “I’m here all day, so whenever.”

  I left before I could embarrass myself further. Her unexpected remark caused a flurry of images to go through my head. The vision of Becca on a stripper pole became a constant loop in my mind. I knew she had no idea her teasing would result in a barrage of fantasies starring her, but I couldn’t help it.

  Deciding it was too early, I tidied my small apartment. It wasn’t much, but it was close to the office, and when I rented it, it seemed like a palace. I had never had my own space before. Growing up in foster homes and ending up in prison pretty much guaranteed a lack of privacy.

  It was a simple, basic setup—one room, with a kitchen at one end, and a futon I used as both a couch and a bed at the other end. The bathroom was by the entrance door, and it held a toilet, sink, and shower. All old and chipped, but serviceable. The walls were plain beige, with only a couple of posters hung to break the monotony of the space.

  In the middle of the room, under the one window, was the desk I’d made from old cinder blocks I had dragged home and a heavy slab of wood. On either side were compact, heavy, steel shelves filled with computers and parts. My one extravagance, the TV, hung on the wall, and a nicer set of shelves held my comic books. I hadn’t been joking when I told Becca I loved them. They were something I longed for as a child, and now I could buy them. I’d added some shelves to the cupboard at the front, and it served as a dresser and a place for my coat. I rarely had visitors. I lived simply, and until today, it never mattered. But as I studied the space, I knew I didn’t want Becca to see it. She wouldn’t judge me, but it was lifeless—a spot I used to sleep and change.

  There was no doubt that I preferred my office at BAM. I was thrilled when I was given a chance with them. I had read about BAM in the paper, checked them out online, and one day, saw a listing on a jobsite for their IT department. I found the courage and took a resume to the office directly. Sandy had been at her desk, Aiden talking to her when I approached them. I waited until their conversation ceased, then asked politely if I could leave my resume with her.

  Aiden frowned. “There’s a website to file an application.”

  “I know. I did that as well. But I wanted to give you one in person.”

  He studied me. I knew who he was—I had seen his picture in the paper many times, and I’d followed the growth of their company while I was in prison. I held his gaze and was relieved when he extended his large hand.

  “I’ll take it.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Callaghan.”

  “You know my name?”

  “Of course. I’m sure you’ll check me out—I did the same so I would know who I’d be working for,” I replied with a grin, faking the cocky assurance.

  He chuckled. “Nice one, kid.”

  Sandy cursed as she tapped on her keyboard. “This is frozen again, Aiden. Every time I’m in this program, it happens.”

  He groaned. “I’ve done everything I can do. We’ll get a new machine.”

  The words were out before I could stop them. “It’s not the machine. Let me try.”

  I was sure he would refuse, but he stood back with a wave of his hand. I sat down, and in seconds, was into the system, scanning the files, and finding the problem. With a few strokes of the keys, I fixed it. Standing, I smiled. “Done. It should be fine now.”

  “What did you do?”

  “There’s a glitch I knew about. It’s common and simply needs an override. You shouldn’t have any more problems.”

  Aiden frowned. “My IT guys should have known that.”

  I shrugged. “It’s something I picked up online.”

  “Thank you, young man.” Sandy beamed at me.

  “Reid,” I said, extending my hand. “My name is Reid Matthews.”

  She shook my hand. “Well, Reid Matthews, I appreciate it. I’m Sandy, the real brains behind this operation.” She winked. “Now, I suggest you head down the street and get a haircut. You need to look good for your interview.”

  I blinked. “My interview?”

  She glanced at Aiden with a nod.
“Tomorrow. Two o’clock. Right, Aiden?”

  He grinned. “Right.”

  And that was how it all started. I was nervous about the interview and wore my best clothes, which, in retrospect were not great, but they were all I had. I cut my hair myself since I didn’t have the money to have it done. I interviewed with Aiden, his questions direct and fast. I answered them all easily.

  He sat back, tapping my resume. “You certainly seem qualified.”

  “I am. I would do an excellent job for you.”

  “You haven’t worked much. The job you have is very limited for your obvious knowledge. It doesn’t play to your strengths.”

  I wanted to laugh. A repair guy in a questionable computer shop was hardly even a job. I could barely make ends meet. I worked as a bartender to help fill the gap, but I hated both jobs.

  “I know. I want to do more. If you give me the chance, I won’t let you down.”

  “You took a lot of your courses online. Can I ask why?”

  This was when every interview fell apart. I took in a deep breath. “Because I took them from prison.”

  He nodded, and I knew he had already discovered that information. He was simply checking to see if I was going to be honest. “What were you in prison for?”

  I was sure he knew that too, but I answered. “I went to jail because, allegedly, I stole fifteen million dollars from a bank.”

  His eyebrow quirked. “Allegedly?”

  “Look, Mr. Callaghan—”

  He held up his hand. “Aiden. I told you to call me Aiden. We aren’t formal at BAM.”

  It gave me hope that he hadn’t stood and ended the interview. That was what usually happened.

  “Okay, Aiden. I was young and stupid, and trying to prove myself. I spent a lot of time on the internet. I was checking out a problem for a friend, and I noticed something odd. After I did some checking and a bunch of tests, I went to the bank and told them about a hole I found in their online program and the fact that I had the solution. They laughed at me, which really wasn’t surprising since I was a kid. They refused to listen.”

  Aiden leaned forward, interested. “What did you do?”