Handle With Care (Shacking Up 5)

“Nothing I haven’t seen before.” Wren’s expression is almost totally blank apart from the slight tic in her cheek. It’s very drone-like and unnerving. “Where were you this afternoon?”

We stare at each other, both waiting for something. Maybe she already knows about the penthouse. Maybe she saw Armstrong at the office, and he said something, so she came here to see how I am. That would be nice. I’d like that. Of course, I can’t answer the question like an adult; instead, I have to continue to be a prick because I’m in a mood, and she’s pissed, and I know she’s going to let me have it soon. And I kind of want her to, so I have someone to battle it out with.

“I had some stuff to take care of.”

“Well, isn’t that nice for you? Thanks so much for letting someone know.” She flails a hand in the direction of my phone, which is sitting beside me on the couch.

“My battery died, and I left my charger at the office.”

She opens her purse and withdraws my laptop and my phone charger, setting them on the coffee table in front of me. “How very convenient for you.”

“You came all the way here just to drop them off?”

She gives me an unimpressed look. “No. I saw them on your desk and figured I was already on my way here, so I brought them with me. You had a tux fitting this afternoon, which you obviously forgot about, so I had to reschedule it for tonight.”

My elation over her presence is eclipsed by frustration. Of course she’s not here because she wanted to do something nice. She’s not here because she’s worried about me. She’s here because she’s doing her job. “Cancel it. I’m not leaving this couch. I’m not in the mood to be prodded.”

“I can’t cancel. The event is tomorrow night, and they’ll be here in a few minutes. I already had to push them back another hour because you can’t answer a phone call, and I had no idea where you disappeared to this afternoon. Must be nice to bail on work and not let anyone know where you’ve gone,” she snaps.

“I didn’t bail,” I reply, just as irritated.

She throws her hands in the air. “I had to rearrange my entire schedule for this. I had plans tonight, and now I don’t anymore.”

That gets my back up. “What kind of plans?”

“The kind that are none of your damn business.”

I set my glass on the table and rub my temples. I thought Wren showing up would make things better, not worse. “Today has been a huge bag of crap, so it’d be real nice if you’d give my eardrums a break and stop reaming me out.”

Her expression shutters, and her lips press into a thin line. Her throat bobs with a thick swallow, and she lifts her chin higher. I catch the slightest tremble before her cheek tics again. “I’m trying to help you, Lincoln. I’m sorry if my constant attention is inconvenient for you, but no one knew where you or Armstrong were this afternoon. Everyone was worried, and frankly, so was I.”

I drop my eyes from the ceiling. She’s not looking at me. She’s focused on the wall behind my head. She keeps blinking rapidly as if she has something in her eye. I’m so confused about so many things right now. I want her here, but not for the reason she showed up. “Do we really have to do this tonight?”

“People have bad days, Lincoln. It happens. Imagine what every single day looked like for me when my primary role was keeping Armstrong out of trouble.” She’s interrupted by a knock at the door. “You need to suck it up for an hour, and then you can go back to moping.”

She spins around, and her skirt furls impressively as she stalks out of the room. She shoots an apathetic glare over her shoulder when she reaches the hall. “The sooner you strip down, the sooner it’ll all be over.” And then she disappears around the corner.

God, she pisses me off and makes me hot at the same time. I’ve never encountered a woman who I simultaneously want to screw and tell to screw off. I’m angry at my father, at the woman he cheated on my mother with, at Wren for being here for the wrong reasons, at myself for not having asked her to be my date for the goddamn charity event when she dropped that stupid file full of women on my desk.

Five seconds too late, I consider getting my ass off the couch to stop her from opening the door. But I’ve already made things more difficult, and if I push, she’ll push back, and I’ll probably say or do something I’ll regret. There’s a good chance I’ll do that anyway.