Revolving Door Page 11

He shrugs a bare shoulder. "It's easy. Just wake the chick in my bed and tell her to leave."

  "Why can't you?"

  "I don't want to fuck her again. I just want her gone." He begins to juggle the eggs again as if I'm going to do what he wants and our conversation is over. Irritation builds within me. Typical man. Bring home a woman for a mindless screw and then push her off onto someone else when she's no longer of interest.

  "Sorry, I have somewhere to be," I tell him, my tone not the slightest bit apologetic.

  Sebastian abruptly stops juggling and frowns. "Just run downstairs and wake her up. Tell her I left for the day and to let herself out. It'll take two minutes tops."

  "Is your jeep out front?"

  "What of it?"

  "She'll see it," I point out.

  He shrugs. "She can think what she wants. Once she's out the door."

  I shake my head, refusing to be a part of this. "I'm already late. See you later." I turn and walk out of the kitchen before he can protest.

  As I let myself out the front door, I scowl. Men. They're so damn annoying. Except when they look like Channing, kiss like Channing and...

  I abruptly shove him out of my head. Groceries. I need to go buy groceries.

  ***

  When I arrive back at the house an hour later, I’m relieved that Sebastian's jeep is gone. I wonder if the poor woman had woken on her own or if Sebastian talked someone else into doing his dirty work. With both arms full of groceries, I struggle with trying to open the front door. It's not locked, but I don't want to lose my grip on either of the bags.

  The door suddenly opens, and I peer around the groceries.

  Harper stands there, and as soon as she sees me, she quickly plucks one of the bags out of my hands. "Here, let me help.”

  "Thank you," I say to her with relief as she holds the door open for me.

  I step inside, and when we enter the kitchen, it's empty. When I'd left earlier, I'd noted that Channing's car had already been gone. I'm assuming he works today, so I am no longer worried about running into him.

  Harper sets down the bag she's holding and walks to the drawer across the kitchen that's been dubbed the 'junk' drawer. She’s dressed casually in well-worn jean shorts, and a red and white striped tank. Her purse happens to be slung over her shoulder, so she’d likely been about to leave the house. After she pulls out two markers, she tosses me one and begins unloading the bag she’d carried inside.

  I pick up the second marker and reach for the loaf of bread that I'd positioned at the top of the bag I’d carried in. I hadn’t wanted it to get squished. “Were you on your way out?” I ask her.

  She begins writing my initials on the food she’s already unpacked. “I was, but I don’t mind helping.”

  I smile. Having Quinn and Harper in my life is unlike anything I've ever known. They're so kind and helpful without asking anything in return. "Thank you, but I can put everything away. I don't want you to be late."

  She puts the cap on her marker and sets it down. "Oh, I don't have to worry about being late. I'm just going to the clinic to let out the animals we're kenneling and give them food and refill water. I don't think any of the surgeries from Friday required a weekend stay," she explains.

  "Is it kind of fun working with animals?" I ask with interest. I'm finished with my own marker, and I begin picking up my food items.

  Harper responds to my question as she helps me put my things in the refrigerator and cupboards. "Absolutely. I enjoy preparing them for their checkups. Every animal is so unique in their own way. The ones that are injured or sick really tug on my heart strings. That's the hardest part. Did you have any pets growing up?"

  I close the cupboard and look at her, shaking my head. "No. You?"

  Harper grins. "We had three dogs, two cats, one guinea pig, and five goldfish."

  My eyes widen. "Really?"

  She nods, her eyes twinkling. "I think it's why I wanted to work with animals in the first place. I just enjoy them so much." She looks at me questioningly. "If you don't have anything going on, you can come with if you'd like," she offers.

  "To the clinic?"

  She nods.

  "Will anyone mind if I'm tagging along?" I ask, already preparing to take her up on her offer. Picking out songs won't take up much of my day, so spending time with Harper would be an enjoyable way to pass time.

  "It's just me dropping by. The clinic is closed on Sundays."

  "Okay, sure. I'll come."

  Harper brightens. "Great. Did you need to do anything before we go?"

  I reach for the paper bags and fold them flat for the recycling bin that’s located outside near the garage. "Nope."

  Her eyes scan my shorts and blue tank. “You’re likely going to get dirty,” she warns.

  “A little dirt isn’t going to hurt anything.”

  We exit the house, and after I drop the bags in the recycling bin, we climb into Harper's car and leave the house behind.

  I look at her curiously. "Has Sebastian ever asked you to kick a woman out of his bed?"

  Harper snickers as she reaches for her sunglasses and slips them on. "Please tell me you had the good sense to tell him to man-up and do it himself."

  "Not in so many words, but yeah. Does that happen often?”

  We slow for a stop sign and Harper grimaces. "With Sebastian, yes. The man likes sex, but once it's finished, he wants them gone." Her mouth tightens. "Actually, they're all kind of like that. No one wants to settle down." I watch as her lips relax once more. "To be fair, Quinn is the same way. She rarely shows any interest in a guy after she's been with him."

  I'm quiet as I wonder if they're aversion to relationships has anything to do with growing up as wards of the state. I don't know Sebastian's story, but Quinn, Channing, Gabe and Colt seem to have major avoidance issues when it comes to getting close to anyone outside of family and friends. "Were they like that in high school too?"

  Harper hesitates. "Sort of." Her green eyes slide to mine, and she looks saddened. "They all had hard starts in life, but those are their stories to share. Not mine," she says quietly.

  "I understand."

  We’re both quiet, and I scramble for a way to lighten the conversation. It's not until we're pulling into the clinic that I blurt, "I'm surprised you don't have a dog or cat of your own if you like animals so much." Then, I inwardly wince. That wasn't smooth. It likely betrayed my unease over the seriousness of our conversation.

  Harper parks in a space directly in front of the building. "I would if I could, but Robbie won't allow pets in the house. I see one in my future for sure, when I eventually have my own place."

  As we climb out of the car, I look around with interest. The veterinary clinic is a large, sprawling, one-story building made of gray stone with an arching front overhang above double glass doors. A wide, cement sidewalk leads from the parking lot to the doors, and in the middle of the sidewalk is a three-foot-tall fountain with two dog statues frolicking in the water.

  Harper notices my eyes on the fountain and grins. "Nice, huh? It's great for the dogs that are thirsty. There's also picnic tables along the side of the building."

  "It's a thoughtful idea." As we walk towards the doors, I see that there are dog prints embedded into the cement leading to the glass doors. This is a unique way to welcome those bringing their pets to the clinic.

  Harper pauses by the doors and unlocks them.

  When we step inside, I look around with interest. The lobby is large with simple tile and private cubicles lining each side of the room. A bench is provided in each cubicle along with magazines hanging from a rack. In the center of the room are racks of pet food, books, and accessories. Up front is a long reception desk. "Is coming in on Sundays part of the job, or do you volunteer?" I ask as I follow her past the lobby and down a hall.

  "We're set on rotation, which would mean I come in once a month, but I volunteer for every other Sunday. The other assistants like to leave town on the weekends, and I r
eally don't mind."

  She leads me to the very back of the clinic and opens a door. It’s a room full of empty kennels, and there are cupboards and a sink located against the opposite wall. “This is where we kennel our patients. Boarding kennels are this way.” She grabs one of the clipboards from the cupboard and shows me a second door on the far side of the room. As she opens the door, a couple of barks greet us.

  I look around as we step inside the boarding area. I’d expected to find the dogs in cages lining a wall, but instead, there are large cages about five-by-five lining both walls with a wide aisle down the center. The cages look more like cubicles with wooden walls except for the front chain-link doors. Each cubicle is painted a different vibrant color and has a cheerful window painted on the back wall. There's also a soft dog bed, a couple of toys, and a water and food dish in each station.

  "We have the best dog kennels in town," Harper says with a grin. "Lisa painted all these. She felt that the animals deserved something fun while their owners were having their own good times." She leads me to the nearest cubicle and scans the papers attached to the clipboard she’s holding. A large St. Bernard is inside the kennel, its tail wagging and tongue eagerly hanging out. Harper reads the dog's information. "He wasn't here on Friday, so I'm not familiar with him. His name is Barry, and there are no warnings listed, so we'll take him for a walk around the building. Let's see..." She moves on to another cubicle that has a guest. This one is a female chocolate lab named Hershey. It's noted that she's friendly, and Harper tells me I should be able to handle her. “The other two dogs we'll come back for after these two get their walks and have a chance to do their business,” Harper says.

  Once I have Hershey on a leash, and Barry is secured to Harper's, we leave the building through a back exit and enter the bright, mid-morning sunshine. Both dogs are eager to stretch their legs, but Harper warns me that they can never be taken off their leash because of the street. It's just busy enough on this side of the city to merit any concerns of a dog getting hit.

  Hershey tugs on her leash as we walk, her tail wagging with excitement.

  "How's the bartending come along?" Harper asks. Barry yanks hard on his leash, and she tightens her grip.

  The last thing I want to talk about is my fake job. "It's fine," I say and try to direct the conversation back to her. "You're a veterinary assistant, so what does that mean that you do?"

  "I gather information, do filing, work out front, prep the exam rooms, clean up after the animals, you name it. I do want to go back to school to become a technician, but the courses were longer, and I wanted a steady job as soon as possible. Right now, I’m fine with being an assistant, and it feels good to be on the correct career path,” she says with visible pride.

  Envy uncoils within me. She's planning for her future, and I'm stripping just to keep my head above water. Suddenly, I feel disappointed with the direction my life has taken. I shrug it off and try to remain optimistic. I have real friends for the first time in my life, and for the most part, I'm happy.

  ***

  Later that evening, I'm sitting on my bed as I use my phone to search for songs. When someone knocks on my door, I start slightly. "Come on in," I call, assuming it's Harper or Quinn.

  The door opens, and Channing stands there. He's dressed in a casual shirt and jeans, and there's something odd in his expression as he gazes at me. He makes no move to enter my room, and his hand visibly tightens on the doorknob as he hovers in the doorway. "I didn't mean to pressure you last night," he says in a quiet, serious tone.

  I had known this was coming, and my stomach drops a little. I'm not sure where this conversation is going to lead, and I can only hope that our actions last night aren't going to cause unnecessary issues between us. "I could have said no," I offer. My face heats over that bold admission.

  Channing's expression is completely unreadable as his eyes stay focused on mine. "You're a housemate, and I want you to know that I respect that. You're not here for me to mess with when I'm looking to get laid."

  Ouch. That stings. His emotionless expression isn't helping matters, either. "Okay," I say lightly. I had known that he'd regret it, and now I wish that I'd pushed harder to resist him last night. At least he's willing to put it behind us, so I’m thankful for that.

  An awkward silence lingers between us.

  "I'll let you get back to whatever you were doing." The door promptly closes behind him, and I'm alone once more.

  I blink and frown. Okay, so it wasn’t as bad as I was expecting, but it also could have gone better. All I can do is act normal around him and hope that further tension doesn't develop or affect the others.

  Sixteen

  Ashton

  I am utterly exhausted after working my ass off in the private rooms. My feet ache, and I’m desperate for a shower to wash away the night’s memories. A couple of men had tried to touch me, and at one point, a bouncer had to intervene.

  As I walk to my car, I’m conscious of Zack walking beside me. Whether the club is still in full swing or closed for the night, someone always walks us dancers to our vehicles. The employee parking lot happens to be full since I'm one of the first to leave. I can’t wait to drop into bed and sleep.

  When I reach my car, I unlock the driver's side door and look at Zack with a smile. "Thanks."

  He nods, and his eyes roam over my jeans and tank. "If you ever want to hang sometime..." his voice trails off suggestively.

  He isn't the first male employee to hit on me, and I'm certain he won't be the last. "I'll keep that in mind,” I tell him. “Night.” I flash him a kind smile to lesson my rejection before turning to my car. I slide in and close the door, setting my bag in the passenger seat.

  My eyes linger on him as he walks away. He's nice to look at with his longish dark hair and striking blue eyes, and I know some of the other dancers have messed around with him. I refuse to be one of those girls that mixes business with pleasure. This is a job, nothing more.

  I twist the key in the ignition, and the engine turns over before coughing into silence. With a frown, I try again but nothing happens. "You've got to be kidding me," I hiss with frustration. I’d made a ton of money tonight, and now it looks like it'll be going towards fixing this heap of junk.

  My lips turn down as my mood takes a sour turn. The downfall of buying a used car is not knowing what kind of problems come with it.

  To be honest, my bad mood isn't just from being tired. I'm still bothered by my conversation with Channing the other night, and we haven't run into each other since. I think he's avoiding me. I don't know why, but it hurts. I had known the night we'd had sex that it didn't mean anything, so why am I letting his distance bother me?

  A knock comes from the driver's side window, and I release a startled yelp. Layla stands there, Zack right beside her as they both peer into my car window.

  I roll it down. "Hey."

  "You just chillin' out here or do you have car problems?" Layla asks as she looks at me expectantly.

  "Car problems."

  Zack leans down so that his blue eyes are level with mine. “Want me to look at it?”

  "Would you please? If you have a minute." He motions for me to climb out as he opens the door. I slide out of the seat and walk over to Layla to stand beside her.

  We watch him fiddle with the ignition and then pop the hood. Layla murmurs to me, "I can give you a ride if he can’t get your car started."

  I turn away from Zack to look at her. "You're sure you don't mind?" I ask, knowing that she’d have to go out of her way to take me home.

  She smiles. "I wouldn't offer if I did."

  "True," I say with a laugh. "Thank you."

  Zack closes the hood of the car and walks over to us. He shakes his head. "Beats me what's wrong with it. You'll have to call a shop first thing in the morning and get it towed."

  I smile gratefully. "Thanks for looking at it, Zack."

  "No problem." He nods at us and then heads back to the club. />
  Layla leads me to her old SUV, and I climb into the passenger seat.

  ***

  I’m up earlier than usual the following morning. I would love to sleep for another few hours, but it’s more important to get the car fixed as soon as possible. After a quick shower, I slip on clothes, pull my damp hair back into a simple ponytail, and go downstairs in search of a phone book.

  When I round the corner of the hall and enter the kitchen, I blink and come to an abrupt halt. Channing is sitting at the island eating a bowl of cereal. He looks sexily rumpled with messy hair, a wrinkled tee shirt, and jeans. Colt is also at the island, dressed and freshly showered. I'd forgotten that with it being early, I'd likely run into others.

  Both men look at me.

  "Morning," I say stiltedly.

  Channing looks surprised to see me. "I didn't think you were home."

  "Why?" I ask with puzzlement.

  "Your car is gone."

  "Oh. It broke down last night. Is there a phone book around? I need to have it towed." It also occurs to me that I could have simply used my phone to search for a repair shop. I keep forgetting that I can do more with it than just listen to music.

  Colt rises to his feet and walks to the whiteboard, plucking the marker from its plastic holder. "Rem's a mechanic." He writes a phone number on the board before recapping the marker. "Here's the number where he works. They'll fix it for you without overcharging."

  I’m taken aback by his willingness to help since Colt barely acknowledges me when I’m around. To be fair, he barely acknowledges anyone, so I know it’s not just me. "Uh, thanks."

  He nods and walks out of the kitchen without so much as a 'goodbye' or 'you're welcome.'

  Now, I find myself all alone with Channing, and my eyes automatically slide towards him.

  "If you need a ride to work tonight, I can drop you off," he offers, but I spy the hesitation in his gaze. He's feeling obligated to extend the offer.

  "One of my coworkers already offered," I tell him, and even to my own ears, I can hear how stiff I sound.