“No.” She blinked some more, eyes alarmingly bright. “Honestly, I’m not sure what this was. But you started it. I didn’t ask you to come in here.”
“Fuck me.” He ground his teeth and tried to hold back the anger bubbling up inside. “No, you just asked me to get my dick out and perform for you.”
“True.” The woman stood and straightened her dress. “I guess we’re both to blame. Again.”
He snorted. “Yeah. Guess so.”
If he wasn’t mistaken, her legs shook as she crossed to the door and flicked the lock. But it didn’t make him feel any better.
She cleared her throat. “I love my new job, Alex. And you’re clearly still in love your ex-wife.”
She was wrong. Worlds and worlds of wrong. But what could he say?
Vi walked out the door and he was grateful for it.
Chapter Three
What drove Alex nuts was his inability to ignore her.
After he’d snapped at his little brother for the umpteenth time, Duncan had exiled him to the back office. Alex could prepare the paperwork in order for tax time. Three hours had passed since then. The same screen still sat on the computer monitor, not one iota of information added to the neat columns of figures. They were a blur before his eyes. Meaningless gobbledygook.
At least, hidden in the office, he couldn’t be tempted to watch her. But it did mean he was trapped in the same room where they’d last butted heads and messed with body fluids. What a fucking unwelcome memory. He’d done his best to purge it.
First, he’d relocated the chair she’d sat in to a storage room. In fact, both of the wooden chairs were gone, because he couldn’t be sure which one she’d used. As truly remarkable as he found her round derriere to be, it left no obvious impression in hardwood. So they both went.
Not overkill in the least.
He could man up and forgive himself for feeling a little sensitive about the whole thing. The last year had been a tough one and his run-in with Violet just capped it off. It was better with the chairs gone. He felt less messy, more himself.
Except for the leather couch sitting directly opposite. It mocked him.
The memory of jerking off in front of her was far too fresh. What a fool he’d been, an overheated, horny idiot with his dick in his hand and his heart on his sleeve. The lounge had to go. And really, the damn thing had been there for decades at least. Their dad had brought it. Time for a change.
“Fuck it,” he muttered, resigned.
How heavy could it be?
Turned out, lots. He had the three-seater monster pulled away from the wall and was straining to get it near the doorway when Violet came rushing in. She gripped her hand tightly with a bloody napkin wrapped around one finger. His throat squeezed.
“What have you done?” he barked.
“It’s just a little cut. Where’s the first aid?”
Alex grabbed her wrist and towed her toward the cabinet. “What happened? Show me.”
“I was wiping off a blade with a cloth. Wasn’t paying enough attention. Stupid.” She fussed about in the open cabinet while he examined the bloodstained napkin. Ah shit, what a mess.
“It probably needs stitches.” He tried to look at it, but the blood made his head swim. He’d never been good around the stuff. It made him all sorts of squeamish. Instead he concentrated on her high, fancy hairdo and the pair of chopsticks she had sticking out of it. She wore a black kimono-type dress to match. Low-cut neckline, damn her. “I’ll just drive you to the hospital. That’ll be best. They’ll deal with it.”
“What? No, it’s fine.” Vi tore into an antiseptic wipe and started picking away the napkin.
He couldn’t look. The thought that she’d hurt herself, that that was her blood… Actually, the thought of any blood at all pretty much did it. He tried not to gag.
“Alex?”
“Mm?”
She tore off the last of the napkin and blood oozed from a slice below her pinkie finger’s second knuckle. “Are you all right? You’ve gone really pale.”
“I don’t like blood.”
“I see. Why don’t you go sit down?”
“Yeah. I might do that.” Happily, it was only a few steps to the lounge since it now sat in the middle of the room. Deep, even breaths and he’d be fine. He just couldn’t look at her. But really, there was nothing new in that. He heard a Band-Aid being ripped open. Little shuffling noises as she dealt with the wound. The buzzing in his head gradually calmed. His stomach settled. “You’re sure it isn’t deep? You don’t need stitches?”
“No, it’s fine. I really should have been watching what I was doing more carefully.”
He nodded, studied the floor. Had she been as preoccupied as him, then?
“Everything okay?” John asked from the doorway.
“Yes,” said Vi. “It’s fine. I’ll be right out.”
“Not with an open wound. We’re nearly finished for the night. Head home,” his brother said and then scowled at him. “Dude, the lounge now? Seriously?”
“It’s time for a change,” Alex said.
John just stared.
“It’s old!”
His elder brother turned and left with a sigh, but no further words. Thankfully.
Alex could feel her eyes on him. Not the most comfortable sensation. The smile he gave her felt plastic, fake. “All better?”
“Yes.” She looked around, eyes lingering on the space where the wooden chairs had been. Then the space where the lounge now sat, with him on it.
“Redecorating?” she enquired.
“Yep. I’ll give you a ride home.”
“I can drive,” she said. “Thanks.”
“You’ve just been injured in the workplace.”
“Alex, it’s a glorified paper cut. You’re the one who nearly fainted.”
“Please.”
She opened her mouth and then shut it with a snap. “Look, I don’t think us being alone together is a good idea. Surely you can see that. The cut’s tiny—”
“Hey,” Duncan strode in, oblivious. “John said you needed a hand moving the couch?”
“Ah, yeah. That’d be great,” said Alex. “Vi, just gimme a minute here, all right?”
Even her glare was cute.
He should probably just have “idiot” tattooed on his forehead and be done with it.