Reluctantly You (Our Exception Book 3)

Mitch

It doesn’t make it go away. The damn cat is relentless. It wakes me up at five in the morning on Sunday, screaming at my window. I stumble from my room, pulling the front door open in a fury, and the damn thing just struts right in. Calm and curious, as if it hadn’t just been begging in hysterics.

“Fuck no,” I murmur, picking it up and setting it back outside. I notice the empty tuna can from two nights ago turned over in the dirt and my chest squeezes. But before I can close the door, the cat bolts back inside, scurrying under the couch with a cheeky meow.

I huff in frustration, spinning around, determined to make that damn creature go outside again, but it sneaks further under the couch. So far that even when I get on my knees, I can’t reach it.

“Shit,” I murmur, still on the ground, staring at those blue eyes peering back at me. I hear a small, sweet meow, in contrast with the rude one earlier, and I let out a growl.

“Fuck you, you little shit,” I murmur and then roll onto my back in defeat, staring up at the ceiling. For a moment, peach hues swirl in my vision before they disintegrate into grays once more.

I throw an arm over my eyes and inhale.

I really can’t deal with this, not right now. If this rodent wants to make its home in my house for the day, so be it. I have zero desire to bother with it.

I’m barely surviving right now.

I turn my head and hear it start to purr, those bright eyes glaring back at me.

“Fine. You win,” I murmur, throwing my arm over my face again and breathing deeply. I don’t have the fight in me.

I don’t want a fucking cat. I don’t need it. Don’t need the extra responsibility, but here we are. After a few deep, centering inhales, I roll up and onto my feet. The kitten is still hidden so I don’t bother with it. Hopefully it doesn’t piss and shit everywhere.

I sigh and then pull out my phone, placing a quick order online for a litter box, some litter, and a few cans of food.

Just precautions. As soon as I catch it, I’ll send the rodent back outside. Or maybe if I’m feeling nice, I’ll bring it to a shelter.

Probably the former though. I don’t want to go into a fucking shelter. Depressing shitholes. The unwanted all gathered together.

It makes me feel a little too much.

I move into the kitchen, the dark counters and cabinets making me feel slightly claustrophobic as I make myself something to eat. The leftover chicken dish is quick and easy, and by the time I’m done wolfing it down, I see that little fur ball peering out from under the couch.

“You little fuck,” I say as I gulp down some water and move to the sofa.

The puff ball meows loudly at me and I growl back. It scurries back under the couch. Good riddance, I think as I settle down and pull a blanket over me. My eyes blink at the blank TV, seeing my drawn reflection in the screen. Quickly, I grab the remote and stab the buttons, watching in relief as it turns on.

I don’t like what’s staring back at me.

Not at all.

I watch the show in silence, not really hearing or seeing what’s playing out before me. As I lay there, my eyes start to droop, but I startle awake a few hours later when I hear the doorbell.

My eyes fly open and I see that fluffball jump off my chest and skitter under the couch once more.

I look down at my shirt and see cat hair clinging to the fabric. Damn thing was sleeping on me. I stalk to the door and pull it open, collecting the packages stacked at the side.

Don’t know why I’m disappointed it wasn’t my brothers checking up on me. It wasn’t anyone who mattered. Just the delivery guy.

Prying open the boxes, I quickly make work of setting out some food for the kitten before filling the litter box and setting it near the door. Hopefully it uses it.

I don’t think too much about it because I’m tired from my life. Weary.

Ready to sleep forever.

I drag myself to the bedroom and flop down on the bed, pulling the covers haphazardly over me.

The darkness of sleep takes me quickly.

I wake with a crick in my neck, groaning as I roll to the side. As I do, I feel small kitten claws dig into my skin.

I see the godforsaken thing sitting on the bed near me, licking its paws, that cinnamon-roll tail coiled up behind it.

It must have laid on me all night, and because of it, my body instinctively didn’t move. Thus the sore neck.

“I hate you,” I grumble, and the cat just meows loudly, wobbling toward me and sniffing my face.

With a groan, I push myself up and rub at my neck once more.

Fuck, work is going to be miserable again today. Sitting in a dimly lit office while people talk about me behind my back, working for a boss who already dislikes me, and a twink secretary who is far too friendly. I don’t want him smiling at me. He stole my office. His boss stole my future.

I shower the weekend of sleep off of me and haphazardly dress. I set out some more food and water for the cat, who eyes me from atop the couch.

“You better not shit on my floor or I’ll toss you out.”

It meows at me loudly and then turns and shows me its butt with a flick of its crooked tail.

“Fucker,” I murmur as I grab a protein bar and a banana from the kitchen before picking my gym bag off the floor. I may have nothing left, but I still have my body. I guess when I’m old and gray, alone and with no one, I’ll still be fit.

I give a weary sigh as I lock up and walk to my car, the sky overcast in June. Pretty soon the mornings will be warm and overbearing. Perhaps by then I won’t even have a job. Then I can just stay inside next to the air conditioner and watch Bob Ross videos all day.

Or maybe take a painting class, steeping myself in colors.

I shake my head at the intrusive thought, not wanting to even consider it. Instead, I just focus on driving, listening to the radio as I make my way to work.

When I get there, I head straight for my office. I don’t make eye contact with anyone, although I can feel their stares. They’re still whispering about what happened, their lives so small and boring that they have nothing else to focus on. I close my door roughly and sink into my seat, leaning my head back and rubbing at my tired eyes.

My phone buzzes and I fumble with it, pulling it from my pocket and staring at the name on the phone.

Mom.

Oh shit. If I answer, what the fuck do I say? I wanted to talk to her a week ago and she didn’t answer, didn’t come to the door, and now she decides to call? While I’m at work, where people could see me break down?

Fuck this. My whole life is a lie because of her.

I disconnect the call on the third ring, not wanting to speak to her. She knows I know what she did. But I don’t want to communicate with that traitor. The liar.

I pull up her contact information and with a trembling finger, I block her. For now. I don’t want to talk to her today. Not tomorrow. Maybe not ever.

Bitch.

She knew my entire life who I was, and she said nothing. She cared more about her peace and happiness than mine.

I pick up a pen and click it a few times, watching the sharp point flick out. Jade hues make their way into my brain, like long stalks of grass waving in the wind.

I bring that sharp point toward my wrist and press it into my skin. Hard. A sting of pain flares slightly, those hues darken as I continue to press, but it’s not enough. So I dig it in deeper. My teeth grit when it almost breaks the skin, but before I can do any damage, a knock on the door has me dropping the pen onto the ground with a clatter.

“Come in,” I say, my breathing slightly labored.

The door opens and I see Shiloh standing there. My eyes narrow slightly at the interruption, and I smooth my tie down, pretending I wasn’t about to do what I had attempted to do.

“Yeah?”

“Gideon would like to see you.”

“I’m busy,” I reply and then reach down and pick the pen up, banging my head slightly as I go. A curse slips from my lips as I rub my head with my hand.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” I murmur. “Still not going to meet with him.”

Shiloh blinks at me, obviously uncertain of what to do now. I’m sure no one says no to Gideon. But I do because I don’t give a fuck.

I click the pen in my hand a few times, ignoring Shiloh and then turning on my computer.

“Mitch,” he says softly. “You don’t want to do this. Really.”

“I sure as fuck do,” I murmur back, still not meeting his gaze.

He hesitates a moment before nodding and then disappearing, closing the door behind him. I stab my finger on the mouse, the computer screen blinking to life as I pull up my calendar.

Today, I have several meetings I need to attend, the first one starting in a few minutes. I can do that—would prefer it to meeting with Gideon fucking Masters. I log on and pull out my phone, scrolling through cat beds for that fucker in my house.

Maybe if I get it somewhere to sleep, then it won’t sleep on my back all night. I pick a cheap one, something small and easy to throw out when I’m done with it.

And when the order has been placed, I decide that later, I’ll scroll for a hookup. I need to feel something other than the pain lingering inside of me. Maybe some kind of pleasure will be good for me. Maybe getting off is what I need.

The day passes endlessly, meeting after meeting, numbers flittering across my screen. In between calls, out of sheer boredom, I’ve ordered a cat tree and a collar. I’ll probably return them all, but still, it gives me something to do while listening to all these fuckers blather on and on about a company I don’t give a shit about anymore.

I checked my inbox a few times as well and have received no responses or interest in my applications for other employment. So who fucking knows what that’s about. Perhaps I should get a headhunter on the case, but the thought of working in another office as just another corporate stooge making other men rich, makes my stomach hurt.

I break down and find myself scrolling art classes instead.

There are a few at the local community college, and for a moment, my finger hovers over one, wanting to click it. What would it hurt? I have nothing else going on. I have no one. Just a cat who won’t leave me alone.

But then my finger falls away from the screen, and I set my phone face down on the desk.

No. I’m not doing it. It’s too late. I’m too old. I can’t change everything now.

I manage to get through the rest of my workday without running into anyone. Specifically Gideon who requested another meeting later in the day via e-mail. I deleted it and pretended I never got it.

Perhaps it went to junk. He’ll never know.

I sent him his damn reports, he can fuck off with this micromanaging shit.

When it gets close to five o’clock, I pack up and slink out of the office. I can feel Shondra’s eyes on me as the elevator doors close. As soon as I’m outside, I can breathe again, the warm air wrapping around me like a blanket. I run a hand through my messy hair and head home. I need to make sure that the cat hasn’t ruined my fucking house, hasn’t clawed it to pieces.

As soon as I arrive, the kitten meows loudly at me from its perch on the couch, obviously pissed that I was gone for so long. Thankfully, nothing seems to be ruined. Yet.

“Shut the fuck up,” I murmur as I go over to its dish and see that the food is gone and the water has been knocked over, the puddle seeping into my wood floors. With a harrumph, I mop up the mess, refill it all, and watch as the kitten scurries over and laps at it, as if I’ve deprived it of water all day.

“If you didn’t knock it over, maybe you wouldn’t be so thirsty.”

It shows me its butthole as a response. Little shit.

I stare at it and sigh. “I have to go to the gym.”

As I speak, the cat looks up at me and meows a response. Don’t know what the fuck that means, and don’t really care. I just scoop out the crap in the litter box and change into some workout clothes.

When I finally get to the gym, my eyes immediately scour the space for Emery, and I breathe a sigh of relief when I see he’s not here. I don’t have time to deal with him tonight. I’m really not disappointed he’s absent.

Before weights, I head toward the treadmills, wanting to start with a run before anything else. I slip my earphones in and step onto the machine, setting a light pace at first before upping the speed. By the time I hop off twenty minutes later, I’m sweating, my legs a little wobbly.

I wipe my forehead off and make my way over to the free weights, needing to do a few reps before going home. Just as I turn the corner, I see Gideon walk out of the locker room, a towel slung over his shoulders, body completely naked except for a slim Speedo.

What the fuck?

I’ve never seen him in this gym, and now here he is.

This is my space. Mine. He took my company, but he can’t take this.

And yet, I can’t look away. My feet stop moving, my entire body growing warm. He’s just as big under those expensive suits he wears at work—the only issue is that now I can see all of him. Every hard muscle, the hair on his chest and legs, the bulge in his swimsuit.

A big one.

His dark eyes land on me as he approaches, and I watch as his muscles visibly flex.

“Hello, Mitchell,” he says darkly, and I feel my hands strangle the towel in my palms. My tongue grows too thick for my dry mouth. “Seems you could make your appointment at the gym, but not the one at work.”

I swallow and try to look away, but I can’t peel my eyes off him. His aura draws me in. He’s potent. Dangerous.

“This is my fucking gym,” I finally manage to rasp out.

He cocks his head slightly, and I feel his gaze all the way to my groin.

“Do you own this building?” he asks, and I swallow again, an obnoxious click making its way to my ears. “Yeah, didn’t think so. But then again, I can see how you’d think you have a right to this space, just like you did at your father’s company.”

I feel my cheeks flush angrily, and I take a threatening step toward him. He doesn’t back down though. He just seems to grow larger.

A few people push past us, and for a moment, I wonder what the hell I’m doing facing off with him. I usually win, I’m bigger than most, but I don’t think I will with him. I don’t think I stand a chance.

“Do you really want to do that, Mitchell?” he asks lowly. “I won’t be cowed by you.”

“You don’t know anything about what I want,” I say roughly.

We’re two feet apart now and I can smell the scent of him, masculine, hot. It’s overwhelming.

“I do. I know exactly what you are.”

I blink up at him, hating that he stands a few inches taller than me.

“And what am I?” I ask, slightly panicked.

Fuck. He can’t know. He can’t.

“You’re a spoiled brat.”

The way he says that last word sends shock waves through my system, and I feel my cock start to plump up in my athletic shorts.

I hate that I’m having this reaction to him. He’s far too big, too manly. He’s not anything that I want. And yet still, my body responds to him in ways I can’t explain.

“You’re wrong.”

He lets out a dark chuckle and then leans a little closer to me. It’s almost hard to breathe. “I am never wrong.”

He pushes past me, and I can’t help but let my eyes settle on his ass as he walks.

Before I can glance away, he peers over his shoulder and catches me. My cheeks turn crimson, just like a school girl.

“I expect to see you in my office tomorrow, right when you arrive.”

“Fuck you,” I whisper as he disappears around the corner, heading toward the pool. I run a hand across my face, trying to collect my thoughts and my breath when I hear a cheerful greeting to my left.

“Hey! Hi!”

My head hangs when I glimpse Emery waving frantically at me. He has a smoothie in his hand and a lollipop in the other. He approaches me and waggles his cup around.

“Did you know there’s a smoothie bar here?”

“Yeah,” I reply, still breathless from the encounter with Gideon, not that Emery seems to notice. He’s too focused on his smoothie.

He slurps on the straw. “It’s green, but it doesn’t taste like baby poop. Just looks like it. Not that I’ve ever tried baby poop…”

I stare at him and shake my head, moving toward the weights, unable to lose Emery in the process. He just trails after me and settles on the bench near the weights, watching as I pick a couple up.

I shouldn’t engage. I shouldn’t, but my mouth just blurts, “Have you worked out yet?”

Emery freezes, the straw hanging out of his mouth.

“Oh. Me? No. I came in here and some lady told me there was a smoothie bar in the back. So I just went there. They have a gigantic selection. Took me ages to decide what I wanted.”

He grins at me, and I see a seed stuck in his front tooth.

I point at it and he sighs, leaning toward the mirror and picking it out. “My teeth love to collect these things. It’s a problem. What’s even worse is my man won’t tell me if there’s something stuck up in there. He’s too nice.”

I snort as I start to lift the weights, making sure to count as I go, but it’s hard when Emery continues to chatter at me. I should stop him, but then again, part of me doesn’t want to. I don’t know why. A week ago I wouldn’t be caught dead talking to someone like him. Someone gay. But now… Well, I guess now I’ll allow it.

“He still doesn’t know I’m coming to the gym. He thinks I’m taking a college class. He’s so pretty,” Emery sighs with a dopey grin on his face. He sips at his drink and then says, “So, tell me the truth. How do you get muscles that big? Do you like, eat plain chicken for every meal? Or like, drink something magical?” He leans forward and whispers loudly, “Do you take the ’roids?”

I peer over at him. “Fuck no.”

“Oh, so it’s genetic then? God, you’re lucky.”

Truth is, I don’t know who my bio dad is. So who the fuck knows where I got it from? I don’t say that though. I’m not pouring my heart out to this guy. I bet he’d spill every secret I gave him, not even realizing as he did it.

“You could be bigger too if you actually work out instead of just sitting there and drinking sugar.”

He chuckles and then stands up. “I do love sugar, it’s my love language, but I’m diabetic, so I really need to watch it. So, since you’re talking to me, does that mean you’ll help me with this then?”

“No.”

He sighs and then bats his eyelashes at me. “Please.”

“Fuck off,” I say, but my resolve is cracking.

I blame the cat. First the rodent, then Emery.

What the fuck is next?

I don’t even want to know.

“Fine,” I relent. “Just this once. And you have to pay attention⁠—”

“I’m really bad at that,” he admits. “Like really bad. I will just disappoint you. It’s better to have low expectations. Or none at all.”

I eye him and then hold out a set of weights. He places his smoothie down on the ground and grabs on to them. They immediately fall toward the ground, and he gasps.

“Oh my god, these must be like thirty pounds. I can’t lift these.”

“They’re five pounds, Emery.”

His eyes widen and I use my weights to show him how to work his biceps. He struggles through two reps and then sags onto the bench, sipping at his smoothie aggressively.

“I need water.”

“There’s some over there.”

I point toward a large water container with cups next to it. He walks over and fills a cup up, his hands trembling as he drinks.

“I think I’m broken! My arms are shaking!” he shouts at me, and I pretend to ignore him.

Fuck. Why did I engage? Why did I offer to help?

It’s the kitten in my house, and Gideon. And my dad and my mom, and everything, really. I’m not sane. I’ve lost my fucking mind.

I don’t really know, but now I’m stuck with him. He won’t leave me alone. So now I’m left showing him a few more weight lifts until he flops down on the floor and places an arm over his eyes.

“I’m dead. I won’t even be able to jack off after this. My arms are like overcooked spaghetti noodles. And no one likes that. Although, I do tend to overcook my noodles…”

I stare down at him, my ears not quite sure what they’re hearing, before stalking off into the locker room. I don’t have time to worry about him, or listen to him ramble. I have other things I need to be doing. Like avoiding Gideon and his Speedo-covered ass.

But the world is against me. Because he’s suddenly standing on the other side of the locker room, completely naked, rubbing at his wet hair with a towel.

Everything within me freezes, and I find myself standing there, staring. That round ass. That big, fat dick.

I fucking hate it, hate him, and yet I can’t move.

The towel slips from his head and his eyes slam into mine. And those lips turn up into a smirk as my nostrils flare.

Fuck him.

I wasn’t looking at him. I wasn’t.

I was just surprised.

And if my dick is hard, it’s just the endorphins from working out.