13. Monroe

THIRTEEN

MONROE

I sit on the couch, opening my laptop and pulling up the back end of what will soon be my marketing company's website. Even though Riggs has agreed to be a silent partner and invest the funds I need to get started, I'm still trying to cut every corner I can. I took a web design course in college, so while it may take me a bit to get it done without a professional, I know I can do it.

I don't think it's really hit me yet that I'm doing this. But honestly, this is a dream come true. Knowing that I'll be in charge of everything when it comes to my work is something I've always wanted. I want to shake up the marketing industry, showing smaller business owners that they can go toe to toe with bigger corporations if they think outside the box.

Working at the boutique was an amazing learning experience for me. Since it was just a small shop located in a rural beach town, it was almost like I had a blank slate when it came to how I would get people to walk through our doors. Instead of sticking to the same old advertising plans that have been in use for decades, I decided to begin relying heavily on targeting a younger crowd with social media. I planned to make influencers want to work with us by using all sorts of trendy photos and videos to spark their interests. Claire may have been in her eighties, but she was open to all my new-age ideas and believed me when I told her I could succeed. Unfortunately, these things can't be built overnight, and I couldn't save Praya in time.

I refuse to let another small business go under on my watch. That's why I'm so excited to get this thing off the ground.

I hear the door open and close, checking the clock in front of me and seeing that it's five in the evening. I've been here for a few weeks now, and I'm starting to feel like maybe I should offer to cook dinner or do chores around the house, but everything is still a little awkward between me and Riggs. He just got back from almost a week on the road, so I haven't really been forced to work through my feelings about the kiss from the charity event. Which is fine with me because it's definitely easier to act like he's the bane of my existence than it is to admit that kissing him was the hottest thing I've experienced in a long time. So hot, that I had to fuck my fingers in the shower later that night just to make the ache between my legs go away. I followed up by giving myself a stern scolding about why we don't let our hormones control our impulses, just for good measure.

Then, there was his reaction to me getting hurt in the kitchen the day that he left. I understand where he was coming from with the fact that it isn't a joke to fake an injury like that, but the way he held me and kissed my head wasn't something I expected. Now I don't know what I'm feeling. I'd like to say that nothing has changed in the way I see him, but that could definitely be a lie.

"Just wanted to let you know I'm home," Riggs says, stepping into the living room where I'm camped out against the arm of his wraparound sofa. "Did you eat dinner?"

I look up at him, and it takes my brain a couple of seconds to realize that he asked me a question. He's wearing a tight black Daytona Fury t-shirt that rides up slightly at the hem, gray sweatpants that hang so low, I can see the delicious V of his abs peeking out from under the waistband, and a fitted white baseball cap, turned backwards.

Damn it. This guy is as slutty as they come.

I rip my eyes away from his body, doing my best to form something that sounds at least a little bit like a coherent sentence. "No. I didn't even realize the time. If you want me to make something?—"

"Oh, no that's okay," he says, cutting me off. "I was about to place an order for delivery, but I don't know what you like."

I give him an awkward smile. "Ummm, I'm not very picky. A chicken Caesar salad would be great." It's nice of him to offer. To think of me when he doesn't have to. He's just doing it so he doesn't look like a dick eating in front of me, but it's still a nice gesture. I've been noticing how thoughtful he is since I've been here. Just another reason he pisses me off. I want to hate him, but it's not as easy when he keeps showing me sides of him that I find admirable.

"Yeah, I think I'll go with that too," he says, pulling up the delivery app on his phone and making the order. I think he's going to leave, but instead, he rounds the sofa and takes a seat next to me. "What's this?" he says, jutting his chin out to where I have my website pulled up on the screen.

At first, I want to close my computer so he doesn't see that there isn't much done. But he's investing his money in this business, so he has a right to know how it's coming along. "I'm trying to build my website," I tell him. "It's going to take a while because I don't have a lot of experience doing this, but I know my way around the back end and think I can get it done. I'm at least going to try before I hand it over to a web designer."

He reaches over me, dragging his fingers along the trackpad and scrolling down the page. "Not bad, Mayhem," he says with a smile. "So, tell me a little bit about what you're trying to do with this thing."

"That's probably something you should've asked before you offered to partner with me, huh?" I joke. He chuckles quietly, still looking at the computer. I turn my head toward him. "I want to make a difference for small businesses. Big box stores and huge corporations have all the marketing resources at their disposal. Somebody needs to help the little guys." I shake my head. "When the boutique closed, part of me felt like I had failed. Even though I was doing my best to change their entire marketing plan, I couldn't scramble to get it done before it was too late. Claire worked her whole life for that place. It's just sad that she had to close her doors because I couldn't get people through them fast enough." I avert my eyes, looking back to the screen in front of me in shame.

"Hey," he says, using one finger under my chin to turn my gaze back to his. My brain is telling me to pull away in defiance, but I can't deny that his touch is comforting. "That wasn't your fault. Hope Harbor businesses have struggled to stay afloat since before I can remember. Once it became more of a tourist attraction than a home for so many people, it was impossible to build and keep relationships with customers. Praya stuck around longer than any of them, but there was nothing you could do. If anything, you helped them stay open longer than they should've."

My heart flutters in my chest. I'm not sure he's ever used such softness with me. We went from a night of wild sex to hating each other in the snap of a finger, it seems, so we never really got a chance to talk like we are now. And since he knows Claire and the history of the boutique, his words are a healing balm to my heart. I've been struggling with the guilt of feeling that if I had just done more, the shop would still be open today. I know that's ridiculous, since I was an employee for a lot less time than everyone else there, but I couldn't help feeling like a large part of the failure was on my shoulders.

"Thank you," I say, smiling up at him softly. No matter how hard I try to unlock my eyes from his, I can't. Butterflies take flight in my stomach, hoping that he'll just lean in and kiss me. Hating him has become increasingly harder in the short time I've stayed here because I'm seeing parts of him that I didn't know existed. I mean, I did, but they've never been used toward me like they are right now.

His eyes flash with heat, and I think he's finally going to end this streak of hatred between us. But as if a spell has been broken, he shakes his head, blinking quickly. The harsh reality that the moment has passed hits me like a bag of bricks, and I turn my head to face the computer screen in front of me.

He clears his throat loudly, shooting up from the couch and dragging his palms down the front of his sweatpants. "I'll leave you alone to work. I'll let you know when the food gets here."

"Yeah, okay. Thanks," I reply, trying as hard as I can to mask the disappointment that shakes my voice.

Without looking my way, he hightails it out of the room. As soon as I hear the door to his bedroom close, my body sags, and I allow myself to feel the loss of what could've been something amazing.

It was easy to dislike Riggs when I thought the same thing as everyone else—that he's just a manwhore who does what he wants and usually gets away with it. But now that I'm here, living in his house and spending my days around him, I know that's not right. I'm seeing a side of him that's so much more than I ever expected, and now I have to figure out how to avoid screwing up all my plans by falling for him.