Handle With Care (Shacking Up 5)

I’m not going to be any more in the mood for this tomorrow morning than I am now. Actually, I’ll probably be in a worse mood, because I plan to get wasted after everyone leaves, so I don’t have to think about what I saw in that penthouse. About how screwed up my dad was and how he cheated on my mother, likely on a regular basis. How this might explain why she’s a cold, heartless woman.

I mutter my annoyance, but I unbutton my shirt and shrug out of it, dropping it on the floor with my shoes, tie, and jacket. I slip my belt through the loops and add it to the pile.

Just as I’m pulling my undershirt over my head, Wren returns with two men, both of whom I met before at the suit fitting. “Almost ready for you,” I say, my eyes fixed on Wren as I lift my shirt over my head and drop it on the floor.

She, on the other hand, makes a point of staring at a spot above my head, but her gaze flicks down more than once. “So glad you’ve decided to be compliant.”

So much damn snark.

She motions to the two men to her left. “You remember Bradley and Ulrich. Bradley already has the tux ready, you just have to try it on to see if it requires any additional alterations. Then Ulrich can neaten you up.”

“I just had a haircut. I don’t need another one.”

“We’re going to smooth out the edges. It shouldn’t take long.” She looks around the room, then taps her lip. “We should probably do this in the bedroom.”

I decide if I’m going to have endure this torture, I might as well get something out of it, like a reaction from Wren. I flick the button open on my pants and drag the zipper down. “You don’t think we can do it right here?”

“Bradley will need the mirror, and you’ll want to see how the tux looks.”

“Why? It’s not like I have an actual say in what I’m going to wear and whether I like it. Too bad I can’t go like this.” I shove my pants over my hips.

“Well, it would certainly get some attention.” Wren’s gaze slides down my chest.

Ulrich coughs into his bent elbow as I kick the pants off. I should probably switch to black boxer briefs since they do a better job of hiding what’s going on than white cotton does. Which is exactly where Wren’s attention is focused at this very moment.

I smile, though it’s probably more sneer than friendly. “Shall we, then?”

Wren glances at her phone. “I’m going to step out and grab a coffee. I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Do you really think that’s a good idea? I mean, aren’t you supposed to be supervising me? You wouldn’t want me to have a go at this with an electric trimmer, would you?” I motion to my hair.

Wren clamps her mouth shut. “You wouldn’t.”

I shrug. “You can’t be sure if you leave, can you? Come on, Team Lincoln, let’s put me in a penguin suit.” I pad down the hall and smile when the angry clip of Wren’s heels follows a few seconds later.

Maybe this is exactly what I need. A sexy, angry distraction named Wren.CHAPTER 13TIGHTY-WHITIE SHOWDOWNWRENI am so annoyed. And turned on. But mostly annoyed.

I hate that I had to give up a movie night with Dani because Lincoln couldn’t be bothered to tell anyone where he went this afternoon, and that he’s threatened to take sheers to his damn head if I so much as run out to grab a coffee. He’s winning the Dick of the Day award, that’s for sure.

I should’ve expected him to take me seriously when I made the comment about stripping down. Lincoln is aware he looks as good out of a suit as he does in one, and he seems to derive particular enjoyment in embarrassing me by wandering around in as little as possible. Or maybe it’s because he’s spent time in countries where people are worried about important things, like food and shelter, rather than their appearance.

Regardless, his ass is fantastic in those damn underwear. The rest of his body is absolutely magnificent, so as irritated as I may be, at least I have something nice to look at while I deal with his extra-surly mood.

I surreptitiously unfasten the top two buttons on my blouse, partly because it’s warm in here, and I get tired of always having to be ridiculously modest at work, thanks to Armstrong. Also, if Lincoln wants to flaunt his entire body, I think it’s only fair I flash a little retribution cleavage. I can’t decide if he’s fully aware of the impact his mostly naked body has on me, or the men in the room, who appreciate it as much as I do.