Page 8 of Stealing It
Chapter Three
Aidan
STACEY? TRACEY? MACY? LACY?I can’t remember her name, but her eyes are a familiar shade of fucking furious. She’s in my doorway, peering around my body and up the stairs. “Hey, darling. A little busy right now. What can I help you with?” I give her the smarmy drawl, but this bomb isn’t defusing. Fuck.
“Who do you have in there tonight, Aidan?” the woman squeals out, hands clenched on her hips. “Huh? Who is hiding in there?” Her tone is loud and screeching as she directs her question upstairs. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Her blue, anger hazed eyes meet mine. “You told me you’d call me. Did you change your number? I’ve been calling you.”
“Baby, baby. You knew it wasn’t more than a night,” I say, trying to keep my voice down. “I don’t do callbacks.” It’s kind of a lie. The fact that this woman isn’t memorable in any sort of way tells me why I didn’t call her back. I can’t even picture what she looks like naked. The wildcat in front of me is making me nervous so I can’t turn around, but I sense Magnolia is behind me, upstairs, listening to this madness.
“Don’t do callbacks? What the fuck are you? A gigolo?” the wildcat yells.
Raising and lowering my hand, I signal for her to keep her voice down. “I have neighbors,” I say. “Please keep your voice down.” Shaking my head, I wrap my brain around this situation. If I were downrange, I’d have several plans ready to go. Backup plans for backup plans. Why should I treat this any differently? My mind spins a quick, effective plan.
“Bullshit. Your neighbors? You have a woman in there,” she hisses. This is what fucking around in a small town has gotten me. I knew it would come to a head and my past women would collide, it was inevitable, but I didn’t envision it happening on a night that seemed so different. “Don’t you? Answer me! My friend told me not to go on a date with you, but I didn’t listen because you seemed like a decent guy.” I cringe. Internally. I’ll fix this in any way I can. Even if that means putting a Band-Aid on a gaping, oozing gash.
“Listen, sweetie, I don’t have just any woman in there.Mywoman is in there. My girlfriend,” I say, nearly choking on the last word. “That’s why I didn’t call you back,” I explain, keeping my voice down in hopes Magnolia doesn’t hear my seething lies. “I hope you understand, it’s not personal. I didn’t expect it. It happened suddenly.” Wildcat is buying the story, I can see her heart breaking inside her eyes, the fury slipping—anger turning into despondent sadness. “She’s important to me.” Nail in the coffin.
Finally, she breaks eye contact, glancing down at the welcome mat she’s standing on. “Oh,” she says. “You could have called me back even if it was to tell me this. Now I feel stupid.”
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I sigh, making sure not to make any noise and close my eyes in relief.
“I hope she can fix you,” Wildcat sneers.
No woman can fix me. Not in a million years. Not after all of the damage that’s been done. I’d never tell anyone that. Especially not this insignificant woman trying to make me feel bad about my life. Instead, I nod and screw up my face in what I hope looks like sentimental agreeance. “Sorry for the confusion,” I say. “Have a good night…”
“Polly. My name is Polly,” she says, shaking her head, then turning on her heel, tail tucked, all the way back to whatever section of hell she rode in from.
“Fuuuuuuuck,” I hiss out under my breath and steel my nerves to try to amend my night with Magnolia. Closing the door slowly, I try to formulate something intelligent to say, a way to explain away the things I said, and my whoring ways. Magnolia knows I’m not a one-woman man, maybe she’ll just shrug and attack me with her sweet pussy. I walk up the stairs, one at a time when I usually bound up them in a couple leaps.
When I get to the top, I’m met with her piercing, accusing gaze. It’s anything but indifferent. She’s scrutinizing me. “Am I going to fix you or let you stay broken?” she says, pressing her lips into a firm line, feeding me Wildcat’s words. Her tank top is askew, and her hair is a brown, sexy mess. My mouth waters and my cock throbs, I grab it to reposition and her attention slides down. Yes, familiar territory.
“Fix me,” I say, trying to set the mood where I’d like it. “If you can.” I quirk one brow.
“I’m your girlfriend, huh?” she replies, tilting her head to the side.
I blink slowly and run a hand through my hair. She watches my abs as I move. “You weren’t supposed to move a muscle. Or hear any of that, for that matter. She was upset.”
Magnolia crosses her arms across her chest. “She was screaming. How could I not hear that? The question remains, am I really your girlfriend after one date, after one kiss? Or do I tell my friends you lie when confronted? When you feel uncomfortable?”
Sweat beads on my forehead even though my air conditioner is set to freeze my balls off. My breathing quickens. She better be the best lay of my fucking life. “Are you blackmailing me into being your boyfriend?” Not without my permission, but it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to be attached to a woman in Bronze Bay. Perhaps it would even clear my bad name if I gave it a real shot. I tick through the women I’ve been with and there’s only one who could hold that torch. She’s standing in front of me right now. Why Magnolia? I know she’d never show up at my front door with a pitchfork. She has a family. People she cares about and has to maintain manners for.
“Would I really blackmail the man who I want to give me orgasms? That would be bad for business.”
I smirk, blowing out a breath. “Business?” I ask, approaching her. “That’s what this is?”
“I need instruction on dating and sex in this decade and you need…someone who has a good reputation,” Magnolia returns, backing away, her bare feet soft on the tile floor. My cock does that thing when it lets me know I’m not in control anymore, standing up so proudly that readjusting would be a waste of time.
“Well, well, you are far shrewder than I thought you were capable of,” I counter.
“Just because I haven’t been with a man since my ex doesn’t mean I suck at business transactions. I’m not a kid,” she says, reminding me of the average age of the women I’ve been with up until now.
“How do I know you have a bad reputation?” I ask, lowering my lashes when I’m standing in front of her and can scent her in my oxygen.
Magnolia leans up on her toes and juts her chin up. I kiss her on the mouth, a wet slow lavish gesture. “Face it, all you really need is one woman who sticks around. A woman you’re seen with. A woman who isn’t different every night of the week. A woman who has good standing in the community and who will be faithful.” I realize what this means, and it’s still a little shocking. I have to be faithful. One woman. Just one.
“I give you lessons on dating and you give me consistency.”
She tilts her head back and forth. “Something like that.”
