Aaron: Casanova Club #7 Read online

  “Hey, Jackson,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck.

  “Where are you?”

  “Home. Why?”

  “Piper James is waiting for you downstairs in your lobby. She’s been down there for twenty minutes already and called to tell me you weren’t answering your buzzer.”

  My stomach rolled over. “Wait. What? She’s here? Now?”

  “Yes,” Jackson said flatly.

  “Fuck.”

  “Did you forget?” he asked sharply.

  “Uh, no, of course I didn’t forget. I just—”

  “Forgot.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose and groaned. “Yeah, I forgot. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize to me. But go get her. I don’t think I need to point out that this is the wrong foot for you to start the month on?”

  I sighed. “No, you don’t.”

  Jackson made an irritating sound on the other end. “Good. Then get the hell off the phone.”

  He hung up on me.

  I stared down at my phone screen while my stomach twisted itself into a very tight, very painful knot. How was it the first of June already? Where had the time gone? And what fucking time was it?

  A quick glance at the clock on the wall told me it was almost three in the afternoon, which meant my ass had been in this chair for eight hours without moving. Prior to sitting down, I’d been in the kitchen having a cup of coffee because I’d already done a six-hour writing sprint.

  I rubbed at my jaw. Three days worth of growth tickled my fingers.

  Then, with the knot ever tightening in my gut, I turned to look at my apartment. My place wasn’t a disaster, but it wasn’t clean. Not even close.

  Despite having a dishwasher, my sink was full of dishes, mostly whiskey glasses and coffee mugs. My counters were covered in crumbs from living off of toast for the last week while I worked on my new manuscript. The blinds were all closed, save for the ones cracked open above my writing desk, and blankets and clothes were strewn across my brown leather sofas in the living room.

  “You have to get your shit together,” I muttered to myself as I launched into a quick cleaning frenzy.

  I gave myself three minutes to try to restore some sense of order to my apartment. Then, not at all satisfied with the progress I’d made, I hurried to the door, wrenched it open, and jogged down the hall to the elevator that served my unit as well as the other three corner penthouse units on the top floor of the building.

  As I rode the elevator down to meet Piper, my head spun.

  It felt like just days ago that I’d been standing at the bar for the cocktail party back in December. How had the months slipped through my fingers like that? How had I missed the time and my chances to make sure this month was comfortable for her?

  Sure, I’d had the guestroom made up in time, but the rest of my apartment wasn’t very welcoming. It was a writer’s den, and that much was clear. There was too much liquor in the cabinet and not enough food in the fridge.

  She was going to think me strange. Or mentally ill. Both were a little true.

  The doors opened with a chime that seemed to taunt me: Time is up, motherfucker.

  I rubbed the back of my neck anxiously as I stepped out of the elevator into the brightly lit lobby of my apartment building.

  I spotted her sitting on one of the big white leather sofas near the window. She had her back to me. Her hair was down, loosely curled, and appeared a brighter, warmer shade of brown than I remembered.

  Probably because I’d only seen her at night. Today, she was radiant in the sunshine.

  As I crossed the lobby, I noted her crisp white jeans and yellow flowing top. She had a cropped denim jacket on and gold sandals that showed off her pink toes. She was a ray of sunshine herself, and she looked up and smiled at me when I came around the edge of the couch to greet her.

  “Piper,” I said, giving her my best grin—the same one I used for all my author headshots.

  “Aaron,” she said in return, getting to her feet and wrapping her arms around me in a hug. She pulled back and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I hope I didn’t arrive at a bad time.”

  “Oh, God no.” I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. I lost track of time, and all of a sudden, I’m getting a call that you’ve been waiting for me. I’m truly very embarrassed.”

  Piper dismissed my concern with a wave of her hand. “Don’t worry about it. Life is busy. And this isn’t the most convenient process, is it?”

  She was kind. Understanding. Two things I hadn’t really been banking on when I started this process.

  “No, it’s not,” I agreed. Then I realized she had bags. I hurried to pick them up for her and nodded toward the elevator. “Come. I’ll show you up to my apartment. I’m sorry. I don’t think the accommodations are going to be quite as luxurious as you may have grown used to over the last few months. I’m not one for big, sprawling spaces. I prefer a simpler atmosphere.”

  “Simple is good.”

  Let’s hope so.

  Piper stepped onto the elevator behind me and moved to stand in one corner. I was aware of her gaze upon my back as I leaned forward and hit the button for the tenth floor. I didn’t live in a very high building. I liked being somewhat close to the ground to have the payoff of being able to hear the city alive and breathing down below.

  The perk of the bakery was nice, too.

  I stood back and leaned into the opposite corner from Piper. She watched me for a moment before turning her attention to the illuminated number above the doors counting the floors we ascended.

  “How long have you lived here?” she asked.

  “About four years.”

  “And you like it?”

  “Of all my apartments, this one seems to be the one where I am most productive.”

  “All?”

  I nodded. “I have a few places all over the place. I bought them as writing retreats, you see. Places I could escape to if the words weren’t flowing here.”

  She nodded like she understood, but in my experience, nonwriters never did.

  “Where are your other places?” she asked as we hit the top floor.

  “Hawaii. Chicago. And London.”

  “So random.” She giggled softly. “But that would be really nice. Homes in different cities. Almost entirely different worlds.”

  I liked the way she put it. It was refreshing. There wasn’t any judgment in her voice.

  Marcy said I had four places because I was flighty.

  Chapter 3

  Piper

  Aaron shouldered open his front door and kept it open for me with his heel as he put my bags down in the hall. I slipped past him and turned back as he closed and locked the door behind him.

  Then he gave me a sheepish smile while he rubbed the back of his neck. “I feel like all I’m doing is apologizing this afternoon. But please, forgive the mess. I’ve been up to my eyeballs in work and lost track of time and never got around to tidying up.”

  I clasped my hands in front of myself. “It’s no problem. You should see my apartment.”

  He chuckled almost graciously. “Come on in. I’ll give you a quick tour and then show you to your room.”

  Aaron brushed past me, and I followed him down the hall into his apartment.

  The place was definitely a lot more mundane than I was expecting. In contrast to the other houses I’d been at for the last five months, Aaron’s apartment was quite small, no more than fifteen hundred square feet or so.

  It was an open concept with plenty of big, black-framed windows set into the south-facing wall, which was all original red brick. The blinds were closed on all the windows, save for one above a desk in the far corner of the living room.

  I imagined that was where he spent most, if not all, of his time writing.

  “This is really all there is to it,” Aaron said as he hurried across the wall of curtains to open the blinds, letting in the afternoon sun.

  It showed
off the dust on the coffee table and other surfaces.

  “It’s nice,” I said. “Rustic and homey.”

  Aaron finished opening the blinds and gave me a curt nod. “Yeah. I like it that way. Well, I like it however is the lowest maintenance, if I’m being honest.”

  “Nothing wrong with that.”

  “There are three bathrooms, which is a Godsend. My room and the powder room are just down the hall there.” He pointed down the hall off the living room before turning to point in the opposite direction, toward a closed door off the kitchen. “And through there is the guestroom, where you’ll be staying. You have your own bathroom and everything. There is an exercise room in the building, as well as an outdoor swimming pool that you’re welcome to use as my guest. And, uh,” he scratched his jaw thoughtfully, “I think that’s everything.”

  “Sounds good to me.” I smiled.

  His place had a warm atmosphere. I’d give him that. The furniture was all rich earth tones of browns, olive greens, and tans. His brown leather sofas looked comfortably worn in but still new enough. They were layered with cozy blankets in varying plaid patterns. Lamps on either side of the sofa gave off a warm light, and I imagined this place would be ideal in the cold fall and winter months with the fireplace on.

  There was a liquor cabinet next to the fire stocked full of bottles of whiskey, rye, and bourbon. A couple of bottles of wine sat in the rack down below, but they looked like they hadn’t been touched—or dusted—in months.

  Aaron brushed past me to go into the kitchen, where he started scrubbing dishes. “I should have had all this taken care of before you got here.”

  “It’s all right.”

  “I’m sure this isn’t what you’re used to after being at this for five months.”

  I shrugged. “Well, maybe not dirty dishes, but I have stayed on a farm. So I’ve literally been surrounded by shit, and it didn’t bother me.”

  Aaron paused his frantic scrubbing of a pot and arched an eyebrow at me. “The cowboy, I imagine?”

  I nodded.

  Why did everyone insist on referring to Wyatt as “the cowboy”, like he was something different from the rest of them?

  “That actually makes me feel a little better,” he said. Then he nodded toward the door that was my room. “Feel free to check it out. Once I’m done these dishes, I’ll bring your bags in for you.”

  “All right. I have to make a quick call actually, so that’s perfect. Take your time.”

  Without wasting any more time awkwardly standing in his kitchen, I slipped into the bedroom and closed the door behind me.

  The room was surprisingly nice. The walls were a soft, powder blue, and a rustic white chandelier hung over the king-sized bed, which boasted a watercolor-printed blue and purple duvet. It was covered in a dozen pillows and had a massive headboard of the likes I’d only ever seen in interior design magazines.

  This room felt much more modern than the rest of the apartment, and I couldn’t help but wonder if Aaron had specifically had this room redone for my visit.

  No. That would be silly.

  I hopped up onto the edge of the bed, pulled my phone out of my purse, and called Janie.

  She answered immediately. “What? You miss me already?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  I bit my bottom lip. “It’s a bit weird.”

  “Weird how?”

  “He’s… in the kitchen cleaning dishes.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. Like, the place is a bit messy. And he’s known I’ve been coming for what, the last five months? I don’t know. It’s kind of awkward.”

  “Is he nice at least?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, that’s good.”

  I sighed and laid back on the bed to stare up at the chandelier. “I guess.”

  “Isn’t this what you wanted? A guy who would be easy for you to not fall for?”

  “True.”

  Very true. This was what I wanted. I wanted a guy who wouldn’t get me all hot and bothered within the first few hours of meeting him. And someone like Aaron, who seemed to be a bit of a basket case, might be exactly what the doctor ordered.

  “I think I got in my own head just there,” I muttered.

  Janie laughed. “It’s all right, Pipes. You call me anytime, and I’ll get you thinking straight in no time.”

  “Thanks, Janie.”

  We chatted for a couple of minutes longer about my limo ride out to Kingston and about how I had to wait in the lobby for Aaron, and then I heard the sink in the kitchen turn off. I told her I had to go but stayed in the bedroom a couple of minutes longer, running my fingers through my hair, staring at the ceiling, wondering what this month might have in store for me.

  I could confidently conclude that there was unlikely to be any romance.

  And that was a huge relief. Sort of.

  On one hand, this was exactly what I wanted. On the other, it was almost daunting to think that I’d be staying in Aaron’s house, knowing full well I wasn’t going to be interested in him. Talk about an imposing house guest.

  There was a knock on the bedroom door.

  I sat bolt upright. “Come in.”

  Aaron cracked the bedroom door open and poked his head in to smile at me. “Hey, uh, I have your bags here.”

  I slid off the end of the bed and opened the door the rest of the way to invite him in. He brought in my bags and set them up against the wall at the end of the bed. Then he stood there with his hands on his hips, looking as equally unsure of himself as I felt of myself.

  He licked his lips. “Are you all right to take some time to get settled on your own in here?”

  “Oh. Yes, of course.”

  He nodded and didn’t meet my eye. “Good. I was in the middle of finishing up a chapter when you arrived. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to just sit down and finish it off. It won’t take me much time. An hour, tops.”

  An hour? On my first night?

  Yeah, there definitely weren’t going to be any sparks this month. Good lord.

  “That’s perfectly fine. I’ll unpack and get settled.”

  Aaron swallowed and scratched at the stubble on his jaw. He was a very good-looking man. His messy brown hair hung just over his thick eyebrows, and his blue eyes were startlingly bright through the lenses of his glasses. The stubble on his jaw suited him, I thought, and gave him a casual, easygoing look.

  He was lean, too. Far leaner than the other men I’d spent my time with thus far. His shoulders weren’t narrow, per se, but they weren’t wide like the laborers I’d courted over the last few months. He was tall and, I suspected, fit. The muscles on his forearms flexed as he rubbed the back of his neck for the tenth time since I’d arrived.

  “Thank you for understanding, Piper. Not many people take what I do seriously.”

  I gave him the best smile I could muster. “Well, those people probably have no clue how much work goes into writing a book. I can only imagine what it’s like.”

  “Do you read a lot?”

  “Yes.”

  “What sort of books?”

  I shrugged. “Anything, really. Well, almost anything. I’m not a big fan of nonfiction. I like to fall into a story and immerse myself in something that isn’t my reality. If that makes sense.”

  Aaron smiled at me. It was a warm smile, a confident one, and one that was so different from all the others he’d shared with me since I arrived. I felt like for the first time, I was seeing the real him. The man behind the mess and the copious apologies.

  “Have you ever read one of my books?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

  I shook my head and blushed. “I’m sorry. No, I haven’t. But I would like to.”

  His smile broadened, and I discovered that he had adorable dimples. “Well, maybe I can find a good one for you to read sometime this month.”

  I put a finger to my chin thoughtfully. “Well, I have an hour to kill, don�
�t I? How about you pick out a book for me, and I’ll fix us each a drink, and we can sit quietly together? Will it bother you if I’m there while you work?”

  I might have been mistaken, but I could have sworn Aaron turned a little pink. “That won’t bother me in the slightest. The company would be a nice change.”

  Chapter 4

  Aaron

  My bedroom was brighter than usual when I opened my eyes on Sunday morning. I yawned, stretched my hands over my head, and rolled over to fumble around for my phone plugged into its charging cable on my nightstand.

  I knocked it over, and it clattered to the hardwood floor.

  “Damn it,” I groaned as I detangled myself from my sheets to lean off the edge of the bed to pick my phone up from where it had fallen face down. I inspected it for damage before clicking the power button on the side to check the time.

  “Shit,” I hissed. It was already nine o’clock in the morning.

  In a panic, I tore the blankets off, swung my legs over the bed, and rushed to my bathroom to turn on the shower.

  I’d been up writing until just after three in the morning last night. After Piper and I sat in the living room while I wrote and she read, we took our drinks out to the balcony and stood side by side to look down at the busy city streets below. Conversation did not flow as easily as I’d hoped it would, but I figured that was because there was so much pressure on the first day. Pressure to do things right. To make a good impression.

  I’d already shit the bed a half-dozen times on that front. And here I was, doing it again.

  There was no way to know if Piper was an early or late riser, but I didn’t want her having to get up in a strange house by herself on her first morning here.

  I must have slept straight through my alarm or turned it off when it started blaring two hours ago.

  “You moron,” I muttered as I ducked into the shower and wasted no time squeezing shampoo into my palm.

  It was the fastest shower I’d ever had.

  When I was done, I put some gel in my hair to slick it back and make it look like I’d at least put a little effort into my appearance this morning. Then I smoothed out my thickening beard with some oil and dashed into the bedroom to throw on a pair of jeans and a loose white button up. Then, barefoot and a little overheated from the hot shower and running around, I hurried down the hall and into the kitchen.