Page 4 of Just Screwing Around

Chapter Three

Charlotte

Isnorted to myself as I dumped the entire box of underwear directly into the drawer. Who the hell folded underwear?

Not me.

I was just indulging in a fun little game to find out howsisterlyNick’s feelings were toward me. His eyes had followed my fingers as I’d toyed with the scraps of lace, but he was a guy. Was he interested in me or just mesmerized by lingerie? He’d had enough chances to ask me out if he’d wanted to. We’d known each other since we were kids.

He was over forty and still single. Maybe he was commitment phobic. Or snored really loud. Or picked his teeth at the dinner table. I’d find out now that we were living together.

I had way more important things to worry about anyway. Limping my way to the finish line on my new business opening was one. My Mount Everest of debt was another. Why was life so expensive? It’s not like I hadn’t worked while I was in school. I had. I’d also taken out loans that I was making payments on. Six weeks until my business started bringing money in. It was going to be a photo finish.

Despite my financial disaster, the idea of messing with Nick was stuck in my head.

I’d always had a thing for him. This feud with Derek had been cock blocking me – crotch blocking me? - for twenty years now. Being around Nick all the time would either cure me of my crush, or make it permanent. If it was the latter, I wanted a chance to explore it. Assuming Nick was on board, of course. He seemed a little awkward around me, but was that because of Derek? Who knew?

I spent another hour unpacking before giving up for the day. Moving was such a pain in the ass that I expected to fall asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow. I usually arrived at the bakery between four and five in the morning to play around with recipes in my newly finished kitchen, while Derek worked on the reno of the main cafe space. I’d spend my day waffling between indulging in my love of baking and trying not to huddle in the corner and cry over the grown-up sized debt mountain I had built.

All of that led to me being very ready for bed before Wheel of Fortune was even over. Tonight, my mind wouldn’t shut off. I was tossing and turning as I listened to the unfamiliar sounds of Nick moving about his evening routine. I was used to living in an apartment, so noise from the neighbors wasn’t unusual, but sharing space with someone my body was hyper aware of was a new kind of torture.

Even once I heard his bedroom door click shut, I was still way too awake.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore and decided to make a snack. As soon as I eased my bedroom door open, I froze. Nick’s room was just down the hall, his door barely ten feet from mine. The sounds of the house may be unfamiliar but the sounds coming from Nick’s room were not. Soft grunts and groans floated through the silent hallway.

Did he have someone else in there with him?

Or was this a solo mission?

Did my little underwear display have anything to do with it?

I inched closer, well aware that I was stepping over some invisible roommate line and not caring. There wasn’t enough noise for there to be two people. It had to just be him. I licked my suddenly dry lips and ignored the pull of heat low in my stomach. The sounds he was making were positively sinful. His voice was deep and low, even muffled by his closed door. My imagination helpfully supplied an image of what he could look like. Lying on his back, his blankets bunched around his thighs, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he worked himself faster and faster.

I needed to get laid, or get noise cancelling headphones. There’s no way I could stay sane listening to this.

Then the sound changed. A louder groan pierced the quiet that was halfway between pleasure and pain.

“Fuck, Charlotte, fuck.”

He said my name!

Holy shit, he said my name while he was jerking off. I backpedaled, one foot moving over the other and almost losing my balance in the process. I managed to get back into my room and closed the door without making a sound. I hoped so anyway. Clearly his line about seeing me as a sister was a lie. My stomach fluttered at the thought.

My life was a ten-car pileup, on top of a train wreck that was somehow on fire. Still, the idea of hearing those low groans in my ear rather than through a closed door was intriguing. And by intriguing, I mean so fucking sexy that as soon as I was in bed, my hand slipped under the blankets. I was oversensitive, sucking in a breath as soon as my hand came to rest between my thighs. There was no finesse to my movements. No easing into it or teasing. I circled my clit with the same speed I imagined Nick working himself over. Heat and pressure built fast, and I clamped a hand over my mouth as I came hard in record time.

The dumbass feud he had with my brother may have had us both keeping our distance in the past. Now, I had direct access to Nick. We would be sharing a space. And if he couldn’t handle seeing me fold underwear without getting hard, just wait until he saw what else I had in store.

******

My high from the previous night died a quick death when I got to Oh, Beans! the next morning. Normally, I loved the quiet of the bakery, but as I wiped down the kitchen and got ready to make my first batch of muffins, my mind started to race. Each ingredient I poured into the mixer looked like dollar signs going out the door. I had to get these recipes perfect, but in the meantime, I was spending money and making none.

Great business plan, Charlotte!

I managed to pay the minimum amount on my line of credit last month. With my cheaper rent I should be able to do the same this month. What if I couldn’t? The loan would compound more interest. Why they charge people a service fee for being poor, I will never know. More interest would make my payment even bigger the next month. What if I couldn’t pay that? I followed that train of thought until my debt load was so high that I had to sell my kidneys.

More likely I’d be working the bakery counter when I was seventy with a loan still hanging over my head. There was no way forward but through at this point, unless I found myself a sugar daddy or something. Lottery win, maybe? Neither of those were great business strategies.

I was pulled from my pity party by the arrival of my second in command slash best friend, Kim. She swept through the door in a blur of colorful tattoos. Her long cherry red hair was tied back in one long braid. Despite being in her late thirties like me, she could pass for a teenager, with her overalls, vintage band t-shirt and hooped nose ring. She was only five feet tall but freakishly strong, and if you needed someone to knead dough, she was your girl.

---