The Bully (Calamity Montana)

THE LONGER THIS phone call with my mechanic continued, the further my heart sank.

“I can probably have it ready for you Monday afternoon,” he said. “I think I’ve got the parts to fix it. We got lucky there.”

“Okay.” Except I didn’t feel lucky. That car was less than a year old and there was a very real chance I’d bought a lemon. At least it was under warranty. “Will you call me when it’s ready?”

“Yep. We’ve got some loaners if you need a car.”

“No, that’s all right.” I had nowhere to go this weekend that wasn’t within walking distance to my house. Hopefully Larke could give me a lift to the office on Monday morning. Worst case, I’d call a cab. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Talk to you soon.”

I ended the call and slumped into my chair. As Cal had suspected, my transmission was busted. But at least my lemon had gotten me to Montana. Being stranded on a highway between Denver and Calamity would have been much worse than a few days without a vehicle and a couple of shuttle rides from Cal.

It was almost five, so I closed my laptop and loaded it into my bag. I’d spent most of my day on disappointing phone calls, my mechanic’s the cherry on top. Along with my broken-down car, I was now minus my assistant, Suzie, and effectively doing two jobs, hers and my own, until I could hire her replacement.

But I’d manage. I’d work longer hours so that Pierce could enjoy his time at home with Kerrigan and the kids.

For years I’d worked as Pierce’s assistant. It had started as a temporary gig, something to fill the gap while I’d hunted for my dream job. But about a year after I’d started at Grays Peak, I’d realized that the reason I hadn’t applied anywhere else or sent my résumé to corporate recruiters was because I had my dream job.

Stellar boss. Flexible schedule. Daily challenges. Excellent pay. Responsibility and respect. The only thing I’d lacked was a prestigious title, and my ego could have lived without it. Until one day, Pierce had walked into my office with a box of letterpress business cards.

Vice President did look lovely beneath my name.

There were days when I still threatened to quit. Every time Pierce irritated me, I’d threaten to walk. It kept him on his toes. But we both knew I wasn’t going anywhere.

After graduating from UNC with my bachelor’s degree, I’d stayed in Charlotte. The city had been familiar and comfortable. The tech company where I’d done an internship my senior year had offered me a full-time position as a business analyst.

The work had been fine, but my boss had turned out to be a slimy bastard. He’d taken credit for my ideas and pitched them as his own. He’d downplayed my accomplishments and talked badly about me behind closed doors. I’d endured it for a while, but after three years, when I’d wanted to quit every day, finally . . . I’d quit.

Mom and Dad had been ecstatic when I’d told them I was moving home, even though I’d been unemployed. The week I’d returned to Denver, ready to apply anywhere and everywhere, I’d bumped into Pierce at a restaurant. We’d lost touch after high school, so we’d chatted for a while and caught up over drinks.

He’d been desperate for a decent assistant.

I’d been eager for a salary.

My official title was vice president to the CEO, which basically gave me free rein to make decisions in his stead. I knew when to check with him. I knew when I had the authority to approve proposals and make hiring decisions. He’d granted me a lot of leeway to help run the company.

Our CFO was waiting for me to review next year’s fiscal projections, but instead of doing my job, today I’d spent covering for Suzie.

She’d only been working as my assistant for a couple of months. I’d hired her to do Pierce’s actual assistant duties, like schedule travel and manage his calendar. As a bonus, she could be in Denver while I was in Calamity. She was supposed to be my eyes and ears at headquarters.

Suzie was supposed to be helping out with the relocation company, getting details coordinated for the employees moving to Montana. Instead, she’d called me before I’d even left the house this morning and quit.

Then my car had died.

Then Cal had shown up.

Normally, a Cal encounter would be the worst part of my day. But today, it had actually been . . . the best. Strange.

Well, he’d be here in minutes. And knowing Cal, he’d say something dickish on the drive home, like call me Pierce’s secretary, and the world would be back to normal.

Secretary. God, that one irked me. I’d worked my entire life to prove myself. I doubted Cal knew just how deep it cut to have my accomplishments downplayed.

In high school, I had this obsession to beat the rich kids. To prove that I might not have their money, but I had the brains. When I beat Pierce for valedictorian, I was so proud. So smug. Yet as I stood at the podium, getting ready to deliver my speech, all of my arrogance evaporated. Because I was staring at a crowd of people who would never accept me.

Ace every test. Get a full ride to a prestigious university. Be smart. Be kind.

None of it mattered.

To them, I would always be less.

So I gave my speech. I tossed my cap in the air. I let Mom and Dad take a hundred pictures and throw a party in our backyard. And later that night, when I was alone in my room, I cried for an hour.

It had taken me a long time to realize that I wasn’t less. That I was comfortable in my skin. That I was just me. That I liked me.

But there was one person who had the inherent ability to bring my adolescent doubts out of the shadows.

Cal.

With my bag hooked on my shoulder, I shut off the lights to my office. I made sure the alarm in the lobby was set. Then I walked out the door, locking the office behind me. I’d just turned the key when the sound of an engine purred through the lot.

Cal had on the same sunglasses he’d worn this morning, but his hair was trapped beneath a baseball hat. It accentuated the definition of his jaw. It highlighted the stubble on his tapered chin.

My breath caught as he came to a stop. Damn him for being so handsome. Damn this attraction. Whether he was in a three-piece suit, a football uniform, or jeans and a T-shirt like he was today, it was always difficult to tear my eyes away from Cal.

“Hi.” I gave him a tight smile as I opened the passenger door and climbed inside.

The windows were already down. Good. Cal smelled as good as he looked, and that heady scent of leather and spice and male was hard to ignore. This morning, when I’d caught myself breathing in his intoxicating cologne, I’d practically stuck my head out the window.

“Hey.” His voice had this delicious, deep rumble. How many women had fallen into his bed because of that baritone whisper? At least one.

I stuffed my bag between my feet and buckled my seat belt. “Thanks for the ride.”

“Sure.” He pulled away from the building and headed into town, driving with one wrist casually draped over the steering wheel. The ends of his hair stuck out from beneath the hat, the strands curling.

“You need a haircut.” I actually loved his hair a little long and messy. Which was why I needed him to cut it.

“You sound like my mother.” He chuckled. “She said the same thing when I was on FaceTime with her earlier.”

“Is she still in Denver?”

“Yep.” He nodded and shifted his hand to the wheel, gripping it too tight. “Still living in the same house.”

Probably with his father. Last I’d heard, they were still married. Not that I’d ask. Cal’s dad could go fuck himself.

“Your parents are still in Denver too, right?” he asked.

“No, they’re in Arizona.” Mom and Dad were coming to visit in a couple of weeks. I’d have to make sure they were far, far from Cal because he was not someone either of my parents would want to see.

“Oh.” His forehead furrowed. “I didn’t realize they’d moved.”

“We don’t exactly share personal updates, do we?”

“No, we don’t.” He glanced over, staring for a moment too long.

My heart thrummed harder. Desire curled in my lower belly. I blamed it on his stupid Tennessee Titans hat. It made him look relaxed. Normal. Sexy. “Eyes on the road, Stark.”

The corner of his mouth twitched but he obeyed. “Why Arizona?”

“The weather.”

He hummed, the soothing sound filling the cab.

I shifted, crossing my legs. The throb in my core was beginning to bloom, but I refused to let Cal—his voice, his smell, his freaking hat—turn me on. Not today.

My bag toppled to the side at my ankles as I twisted, shifting closer to the window as the air rushed past my face. I breathed in the summer air and studied the landscape, from the green meadows to the indigo mountain tips still capped with untouched snow.

Downtown was abuzz for a Friday evening as we eased down First. The parking spaces outside Jane’s were full. The bar would be packed later if Lucy was singing. Larke had texted me earlier and asked if I wanted to meet her around eight. That gave me time to make some dinner. Unwind. Then refresh my hair and makeup.

Cal navigated the streets to my house like he’d been there ten times, not once. And when he pulled up to the curb, he didn’t bother putting the Land Rover in park.

“Thanks.” I opened the door and swept up my bag.

He stayed quiet as I shut the door. Then he was gone, his taillights disappearing down the block.

“Huh.” Not exactly a friendly conversation, but then again, no conversations with Cal were ever friendly. But we hadn’t fought. The absence of banter and bickering was . . . unsettling.

Was something wrong? Was he upset or angry?

“Not my problem,” I muttered as I walked across the sidewalk to unlock my front door.

I set my bag on the table in the entryway, then kicked off my heels.

The living room was finally void of boxes. I’d spent the evenings this week putting the last of my belongings away. The random kitchen gadgets had been stowed in drawers. The knickknacks had been placed on various surfaces. And since my TV cabinet looked empty and sad in the living room, I’d ordered a new flat screen.

The only boxes I hadn’t unpacked were those that Cal had hauled to the office upstairs. I needed to sort through my old diaries, business texts and romance novels, but I’d decided to save that job for a snowy winter day. For now, those boxes were stacked in the office’s closet.

Little by little, the house was becoming mine. Every time I walked through the door, I felt more at peace.

I unbuttoned my blouse, letting it hang open at the front. A stretchy pair of jeans, a cotton tee and a bra without underwire were calling my name. But before I could head upstairs to change, the doorbell rang.

“Shit.” I rebuttoned my shirt, hitting every other hole, then rushed to the door, opening it to see Cal.

His SUV was parked on the street and he’d left his sunglasses behind. His gaze darted to my chest and the buttons I’d missed. Those hazel pools darkened, the gold flecks swirling with chocolate and green. He’d turned his hat backward. Why was that so flipping hot?

“Did you forget something?” My voice was breathy.

He held up a tube of lipstick. My lipstick. It must have fallen out of my bag.

“Oh. Thanks.” I took it from his hand, waiting for him to turn and leave. But he stepped forward, forcing me out of the way as he came inside. “Cal, what are you—”

He crushed his mouth to mine.

I gasped, clinging to his shoulders as he swept me deeper into the room, kicking the door closed. The slam rattled the walls. The sweep of his tongue shook my bones.

With one hand I gripped his shirt, balling it into a fist to pull him closer. But with the other hand, I shoved his shoulder away.

This was us.

Push and pull. Cold or hot. Off to on.

We were magnets, one flip and we’d repulse each other. But turned the other way, there was no ripping us apart.

The rational part of my brain screamed for me to kick him out. Make him leave. But that little voice, the voice that hated reason and craved passion, whispered yes, yes, yes.

I tore my mouth away, the two of us panting for breath.

His eyes locked with mine, searching for my decision. Searching for an answer. Anything that might explain this chemistry. “Don’t answer the fucking door with your blouse unbuttoned.”

I raised my chin, my hand tightening even tighter on his shirt. “What are you going to do about it?”

Cal gripped the collar of my shirt and pulled. Whoosh. Buttons went flying as the sound of shredding seams filled the room.

“I liked this blouse, asshole.”

“Leveling the score, remember? I had to throw my T-shirt away last week.” He reached a hand behind his head and grabbed his tee, yanking it over his head. It dropped to the floor as I shrugged off the tattered remains of my top.

Cal’s naked torso was a gift to humankind. From broad pecs to chiseled abs to ripped arms, his body was honed to perfection. Add in that delicious V at his hips and the naughty little voice laughed victoriously. Yes. There would be no stopping, not tonight.

I could stare at him for hours, but he never let me. There was no such thing as slow when the clothes began piling on the floor. His shirt was gone and his mouth was on mine again.

I’d regret this tomorrow. History would repeat itself, and I’d spend hours chastising myself for being so damn weak. Still, I kissed him back, matching him beat for beat.

Some decisions were worth the shame.

His mouth was an addiction. The softness of his lips. The bite of his teeth. The wet heat of his wicked tongue. He kissed the way he played football. He kissed the way he fucked.

Without restraint.

Cal’s hands found my ass, squeezing so hard I squealed down his throat. But he didn’t let up. He knew I liked it rough and always delivered.

I slid my hands between us, fumbling for the button and zipper of his jeans. While I worked them free, he flipped the hooks on my bra, tugging it off my arms. With a few deft flicks of his long fingers, my slacks were unclasped and pooled at my bare feet.

My hand was poised, ready to dive into his boxers, but before I could wrap a hand around his shaft, my entire body jerked. I teetered on my feet, tearing my lips away from his to glance at my bare hips.

Cal had ripped off the panties.

“Stop tearing my clothes.”

He met my glare, then hauled me into his arms, spinning me until my back hit the wall. His frame trapped mine. Where Cal wanted me, Cal pinned me.

I’d never liked being manhandled, but Cal was the exception to every rule. No one compared to his strength. No one could lift me like I weighed nothing. His hands gripped me beneath my thighs, spreading my knees wide as he pushed his hips forward. The roughness of his jeans brushed my sensitive flesh.

“When did you start wearing panties?” he asked as I wrapped my legs around his waist.

Instead of giving him an answer, I leaned forward and latched on to his neck, sucking and nipping so hard I’d leave a mark.

He groaned, the vibration racing straight to my clit. The dusting of coarse hair on his chest caressed my nipples as Cal’s arousal hardened against my aching core.

“Fuck me,” I whispered against his lips. “Now.”

A hand abandoned my leg and dove into his jeans pocket, coming out with a condom.

I didn’t ask why he had one at the ready.

There were a lot of questions I didn’t ask when it came to Cal.

Either he knew this was going to happen. Or he had it in case it was going to happen with some other woman.

I blocked that thought from my mind as he shoved his jeans down, just a few inches. Enough to free his thick cock and roll on the condom. As he positioned the tip at my entrance, I gave him a warning glare. “Slow.”

“Did you forget who gives the orders?” He thrust forward, hard and fast, filling me completely.

I cried out, savoring the stretch as my body adjusted to his size.

He dropped his forehead to mine. “You feel so fucking good.”

“Oh, God.” My eyes drifted shut. No one moved like Cal. No one made me feel like Cal.

He eased out, his hands sliding to my ass, pulling my cheeks apart just slightly with those long fingers. Then he slid inside again, this time inch by inch. It was only when he was seated as deep as he could go that I let go of the breath I’d been holding.

His eyes locked with mine, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Fuck, Nell.”

“More. Harder.” I clung to his shoulders, aching for a release.

It had been too long. We hadn’t been together in months. Not since his last trip to Denver and one of our spontaneous hookups. The first time had been in Charlotte. Ever since, it had just . . . happened.

Push and pull. Cold or hot. Off to on.

Cal began to move in a punishing rhythm, thrust after thrust. With every stroke I built higher. Hotter. Together, we were an inferno. Sex with Cal was exhilarating and bold. He moved with the same arrogance he did in every other aspect of his life. He knew he could shatter me into pieces. He made sure of it. He worked me up until I was nothing but trembling limbs and hitched breaths.

“Come.” He dropped his mouth to my pulse and sucked, the pistoning of his cock never slowing. His shaft dragged against my clit as his hands palmed my ass.

Every cell in my being was on fire. One more thrust and I came undone, crying out as stars broke behind my eyes. I pulsed and clenched, so overwhelmed by sensation that I was lost to anything but the orgasm.

He growled against my neck, then groaned my name and came on a roar.

I forced my eyes open in time to see his handsome face twist in ecstasy. The parted lips. The sharp corners of his jaw. And that damn backward hat.

Even after his release Cal kept me against the wall for a few heartbeats until the aftershocks stopped. Then he pulled himself free and set me on my unsteady feet.

Regret flooded my mind, like a bucket of iced water being dumped over my head. It happened every time, at the exact moment our bodies were no longer connected. The guilt wasn’t only about the sex. It was also because we had nothing to say.

Because when it came to Cal, I was weak.

I could have stopped him. This time. The others. I probably should have stopped him.

Instead, I’d succumbed to this insatiable craving. That devilish little voice who hungered for Cal in a way that I’d never had with another man.

Why him?

That question would get me into trouble, so I pushed the hair out of my face and breezed past Cal, walking straight for the stairs. “Bye, Cal.”

I didn’t look back. I didn’t wait to see if he had anything to say. I doubted I’d want to hear it anyway.

Locked in my bedroom, I immediately went to the shower. My hands were jittery as I cleaned Cal’s scent from my body. I dropped the mascara wand twice while I freshened my makeup. The skin between my legs was tender as I pulled on fresh panties.

Dressed in jeans and a tee, I tiptoed downstairs, and as expected, found only my ruined clothes waiting. Cal was long gone.

Because this was what we did. This was who we were.

We fought. We fucked.

We went our separate ways. Until the next time I caved.

Until the next time I listened to that evil little voice.