Page 13

CHAPTER 12

LIZZY

CLOCKWORK

Tuesday morning rolls around and much to my very pleasant surprise, it’s eight o‘clock before I hear even the slightest sound from upstairs. Either Clay isn’t here yet, which seems highly unlikely because he seems to be a robot or he’s magically learned to walk around like a ballerina. Either way, I’m not complaining. Working from the condo today means I get an extra hour of sleep and my body is in heaven.

I roll out of bed in my same oversized t-shirt and sweats from last night and head to the kitchen. There’s a good half hour before my first call, so I start making a pot of coffee and sit on the kitchen counter, reading my new book. I get a few pages in before I practically jump out of my skin at the sound of banging on the front door.

What the hell?

I head to the door and open it, groaning in exasperation. I flop against the doorframe, dropping my head to my chest.

No one is here. There’s just a small brown bag from Finch and a drink.

If you can even call that a drink. I was interrupted from my relaxing morning for this?

I grab the cup and bag and head right to the elevator. Just when I thought Clay could be civilized, he does something like this .

When the elevator doors open, I’m not even surprised that Clay is already there, leaning against the door to the penthouse grinning like the Cheshire Cat, sipping what appears to be a nitro cold brew. My current drink.

I would almost think this is funny if it were anyone else.

But no .

Not today, Clay Fucking Chapman.

I stomp towards him, holding out the cup.

“Seriously, what the hell is this?” I hold out the abomination in front of me. Honestly, I’m not even sure if you could call it coffee . It’s practically white, except for the string of red peppermint and caramel swirls around the inside of the clear cup. Then there’s the overly generous serving of whipped cream on top with pink sprinkles and cinnamon.

He shrugs and his grin doesn’t even waver. “Morning to you too.”

I roll my shoulders before looking back at him. “I appreciate you being quiet today, but I don’t want to play your games. Especially if you aren’t going to even get my order right.”

He crosses his arms and his chest rises with a low chuckle. “Did you even look at it? That’s not yours.”

I furrow my brows and look back at the cup and see LUKE sharpied inside of a big heart.

“Luke!” Clay’s voice nearly catches me off guard when he shouts into the penthouse. I hear footsteps when a man, maybe about Clay’s height, but bigger and broader with shaggy auburn hair walks through the door.

“What’s up, boss?” He eyes Clay and then looks at me curiously. I’m wondering if Clay has mentioned me to him or something until he sees the coffee in my outstretched hand and his eyes go wide. “Oh shit. You got my sugar fix?” He grabs the drink and takes a giant gulp. “They only have these like one month a year.” He punches Clay on the shoulder and walks back inside.

“That was his drink?” I look at Clay and point back towards the door way. Another low chuckle rumbles from his chest before he sighs and stands tall. We’re back in this doorway again with him towering over me and his scent is everywhere, making the hair on my neck stand and my empty stomach do a weird thing .

“Yeah. He’s kind of a big softie.” His lips press into a line and he shrugs. And then I remember that I’m still mad at him.

“So, let me get this straight, this was just a game to fuck with me?”

He grins back at me, uncrossing his arms. My eyes don’t miss the way his biceps stretch out, highlighting the veins running down them to his tattooed forearms. “I like seeing you all fiery like this. It’s not every day I get to see a brat throw a temper tantrum. Makes the rest of the day seem a lot less dull.” He tilts his head down towards the bag. “And I did get you a chocolate croissant.”

Brat? Temper tantrum?

“That’s rich coming from Mr. Dark and Broody, running off in the middle of dinner.” His brows knit together and his nostrils flare, but he still just keeps smirking at me. “Next time, just leave that at my door, OK?”

He shrugs and extends a finger towards me. “If I did that, then I wouldn’t get to see you like this .” I watch him motion his finger in a circle around my face.

I know he’s toying with me, but I can still see the lust in his eyes. And there’s something almost refreshing about it. I’m used to being told to tone it down or be less. But I think he likes me like this and that’s new for me.

I pack that idea into the back of my mind and focus on the moment and roll my eyes at him. “Well, thanks for the croissant, I guess. And for being quiet this morning.”

Then I grin at him, take his drink, take a giant gulp, and turn back towards the elevator. I make it a few steps when I hear him call back to me.

“Lizzy, wait.”

I look back and see him reaching down towards the floor and notice the coffee carrier at his feet .

And then I notice his feet. Or more accurately, the oversized, fluffy shoe shaped slippers that he’s wearing over his work boots. They’re the kind you’d buy as a kid and wear to sleepovers or in your college dorm. Was he wearing those over his boots all morning just to be quiet?

While I stand there gaping at him like an idiot, he reaches down and grabs the cup from the carrier and hands it to me. It’s a nitro cold brew, just what I’ve been drinking lately, with PRINCESS sharpied on it.

“Here you go.” He holds the drink and winks. “You have good taste.”

“Oh.” I stand there, awkwardly still gaping at him like a fish gasping for air. What the hell is this game? I shake my head, bringing myself back to the moment. “Do you want this one back or…?” I hold out his drink that I just took a big gulp out of like the temper tantrum throwing brat he already called me.

He grabs his cup back from me and hands me the new drink, smirking. “Not the first time I’ve had your spit in my mouth.”

Before I can even process anything, he’s gone back inside, closing the door behind him.

He went out of his way to be quiet in possibly the most comical way I could imagine. He got me a pastry and my coffee. Is this a giant game to him? Is he just fucking with me?

I wake up Friday, pleasantly surprised when I get up right before my 7:45AM alarm. Since Tuesday, I haven’t heard a peep from the construction site upstairs before eight in the morning. Clay might be a bit prickly and obnoxiously cocky, but he did what he said he would do. It’s been quiet and I’ve gotten to sleep as late as I prefer .

But he’s also done a bit more than he said he would. Each of the last three mornings, he’s left a drink and a pastry at my door after knocking loudly. Each time, it’s some over the top, sugar filled monstrosity with Luke written on it. And each time, I go upstairs, play his little game, and leave with my actual drink. I’m still not sure if he just enjoys tormenting me or if it’s a genuine gesture of goodwill, but I’ll take it. And today, I find myself oddly let down when 8:05 comes and goes without a knock at my door. A couple minutes go by and curiosity gets the better of me and I open the door.

To my pleasant surprise, there’s my coffee and a bag with a pastry.

No crazy, sugar filled cavity maker. Just my coffee and a pastry. Seeing it weirdly gives me butterflies in my stomach. Even without the knock, like clockwork, my little treat to start the day has shown up. I reach down to grab and notice another bag from Finch under the pastry bag.

I walk back inside my condo and set the drink and pastry on the counter. The mystery bag is heavy and about the size of a book. It’s from Finch, so I assume that’s what it is. Dipping my hand into the bag, I pull out a book. That’s not a surprise. But what would Clay buy me?

My jaw hangs when I get my answer. This isn’t just a book. This is smut. Like the smuttiest, why choose, hockey smut. Sure, it has a discreet illustrated cover. Does he even know what he just bought me?

My cheeks heat, but it’s equal parts embarrassment and equal parts giddiness. I love good books and this series has been on my Tbr list. I drum my pink fingernails across the cover before I start flipping through the pages, enjoying the smell of a new book. When I get towards the end, a note falls out.

Settle a bet for me. Me and the girls at the coffee shop said this would be right up your alley. I would have pegged you as more of a faerie girl.

I grab the book and my coffee and head to the elevator. While my little coffee and pastry deliveries are great, the smut might be a bit much, even given our history, namely us having our tongues down each other’s throats. I feel like we’ll need to establish boundaries at some point. But in the mean time, I’ll play his game.

Walking off the elevator, I’m not the least bit surprised that Clay is waiting there, fluffy pink slippers over his work boots and a knowing grin plastered on his face. The jokes on him though.

“Cowboys and werewolves,” I say, calmly, smirking back at him.

He looks puzzled and eyes me cautiously. I’m already so pleased that I’ve thrown him off for once.

“What are you talking about?”

“Your bet. You and the girls are both wrong.” I hold out the note. “I like westerns and werewolf books. Don’t get me wrong, I like other stuff too, but those are my favorite.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time.”

I raise my finger to him. “No. I would appreciate it if there wasn’t a next time.”

He coos at me. “That’s no fun.”

I glower back at him. “Clay, I’m serious. I feel like we’re starting to get to a better place and I would like that to continue if we’re going to be doing wedding stuff together. The last thing I need is you probing around in my sex life trying to figure out what I’m in to.”

He takes two long, predatory strides towards me, closing the distance between us.

“It’s alright, princess.” His voice drops low and he lingers on that nickname. “We’re adults. No kink shaming here.” His lips quirk up into a smirk .

I try to ignore that comment and not let my mind race through what kinks he might have. “First, stop calling me princess . It was fun at the bar, but we’re trying to be friendly and I’m pretty sure friends don’t call each other that.”

“Who said we’re friends yet?” He eyes me and I feel my cheeks heat under his stare. It’s unnerving how he always makes me feel this way just by looking at me. “Friends don’t assume friends are cheating pricks. Remember?”

I stare right back at him, not giving an inch and his eyes soften. “I don’t have to justify myself to you. You tried to take me home, then you show up later with a date or whatever.”

His chest fills as he takes a deep breath, but he doesn’t say a word. He just glares back at me and crosses his arms.

“But…” I sigh and wobble my head.

He turns and holds his cupped ear. “But what?” he says, dragging out the words.

“But you’re right. I’m sorry. My last relationship was a mess. My ex was a cheating asshole. I didn’t need to take that out on you.”

He doesn’t even hesitate to respond. “He sounds like an idiot. It was his loss.” He doesn’t flinch and his gaze holds mine.

I look away, not wanting to maintain this intense eye contact or talk about that more than I have to. “It’s fine. I don’t exactly go around broadcasting that.”

He studies me and looks at me softly. Not with pity, not sadness, but understanding. His lips pull to one side and he nods. “Yeah, I get it. No one likes to talk about being hurt.” He lets out a long breath and rubs his stubble. “We can be friends, Lizzy. We are friends.”

He extends a hand out to me and I take it. The feeling of his warm, rough hands instantly brings back all the sensations from that night at Roxy’s. I watch his eyes drift down to our hands before he pulls it back, almost like it pains him .

Does he feel it too? Or does he just dislike me that much even though he says we’re friends now?

Saturday morning comes and I find myself pleased that I got to sleep in. I stayed in last night and started my new book from Clay. It’s definitely living up to the hype.

Girl, I get it.

Why choose?

I got to bed at a responsible time. But when I check my phone and 8:05 comes and goes and my coffee and pastry aren’t there, I feel the slightest bit of disappointment.

I know Clay isn’t working today.

I know I shouldn’t expect it.

But I was starting to enjoy our morning sparring matches. Even Luke is sort of adorable with how excited he gets about his sugar-coma-inducing drinks.

On the bright side, I get to spend my morning with a different, much more pleasant Chapman. I’m meeting Grace for brunch at the cafe overlooking downtown, just across the street from Finch.

She’s the closest thing I have to a real friend out here, even if Clay says we’re friends or friendly or whatever now. We’ve done brunch two weekends in a row and gone out for drinks a couple times in between. Collin was right. She’s fun and we’ve hit it off. I’m glad I’m sitting across the table from her for brunch today and she brought Kayleigh this time.

“You’re really going to have to tell me more about this cowboy sandwich.” Grace flicks her eyebrows at Kayleigh before grinning at me. “I mean I get it. The whole rugged Wyoming cowboy thing. But sharing with Collin?” She looks back down at her food and shakes her head. “I told you, Kayleigh, Lizzy’s a wild one.”

I cover my mouth and snort a very unladylike laugh. “You could say that. But yeah, it was definitely something. A story for another day. My Tour de Lizzy is starting to catch up with me.”

She quirks an eyebrow at me and stabs a strawberry with her fork, and points it back at me. “Yeah, you’ve told me about Johnathan. Now you’re living for yourself. I get it. I mean, I have no idea what I want either. I want to travel. I want to see the world. I want to know myself. And I don’t know how that fits into dating.”

I look at her with a new appreciation. I’m sure growing up with two domineering brothers and losing your mom so young meant maturing in a different way. When I was in my mid-twenties, I was growing my career but also already dating and looking for a husband that my mom would approve of. I was on a mission and found Johnathan in my late twenties. So I’m glad she’s living for herself and not rushing.

“Yeah. That’s sort of where I’m at now, just eight or nine years ahead of you.” I look towards the ceiling and roll my shoulders. “I think I’m fine living by myself and not settling. It’s not that I don’t want someone. I just want a man that’s going to be a partner with me, an equal.”

The truth is, I’m not sure I really know what I want. I feel like I have a second chance after dodging a bullet with Johnathan. An equal would be amazing. Someone that lights a spark in me and sees me for me. But do I want to try to settle down again?

Grace smiles and chuckles. “Girl, good luck. Dating sucks. The dating pool isn’t exactly filled with great options. Too many boys, no men.”

“You can say that again.” I couldn’t think of anything truer right now. The lack of decent, dateable men in the world is truly horrifying. And they don’t just grow Tanner Chapmans on a tree in Wyoming. I notice that Kayleigh has been quiet all brunch except for the occasional laugh here and there. “What about you, Kayleigh? How’s the dating world treating you?”

Grace’s eyes dart to Kayleigh’s, who smiles half-heartedly. “My career choice and training schedule don’t exactly make dating easy. But Charlie is pretty easy going and the long distance thing has worked for us for the most part.” She takes a sip of her drink and smiles back at me. “But Grace tells me you’re liking full time life in Park City? I loved growing up here. It’s a great place to live if you like the outdoors and skiing.”

“So far, so good.” Taking a second to actually think about it, I’m glad I chose to come out here, however long this assignment might take. It’s already looking like I’ll be here long enough for my lease back home to be up by the time I go back. “It’s been a good change. I needed a fresh start, or at least a reset from life back in Ohio. And besides, now I have Grace as a friend. And maybe you eventually.” I smile warmly back at them both.

She beams back at me before Grace chimes in.

“Same, girl. Met anyone else out here besides your coworkers?”

“Not really. I’ve seen your brother around though. Almost every day. He’s actually grown on me a bit after he started bringing me coffee every morning.” I know it’s been sort of a weird game with us each morning, but I do find myself looking forward to it, as obnoxious as he can be.

Grace stops mid bite and puts her fork down, looking at me like I have two heads. Even Kayleigh gives me a curious look before Grace talks. “My brother, Clay Chapman? He’s being nice?”

I look back at her, nodding. “I think it started as a joke, but he’s actually been nice, well nicer , lately.”

They’re both still staring at me like I’m crazy. “Again. My brother, Clay. Not Tanner, the nice one. Are we talking about the same person? Tall, tattoos everywhere, shit eating grin, stupid constant scowl?”

Kayleigh snorts a laugh and I shrug. “Yeah. That one. He even did what I asked and he’s been quieter in the mornings so I can sleep in.”

“Huh. That’s… interesting.” She shakes her head, looking at Kayleigh and then back at her plate. “He hates practically everyone except family, the Perrys, and Kayleigh here. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he likes you.”

She looks up at me with a smug smirk and glint in her eyes. I huff a laugh. I haven’t told anyone about that night at the bar and I would definitely prefer for that secret to stay between Clay and me.

I turn to find that Kayleigh is looking at me with an almost knowing smile. “As an expert on all things Clay, I have to agree with her here.”

I toss my head back with another short, dismissive laugh. “Don’t be crazy. I’m still pretty sure I annoy the hell out of him.”

Grace rolls her eyes at me. “Ok, Lizzy. Let me know when he starts being a grumpy ass again so I don’t have to worry that he’s been replaced by a robot or something.”

“You got it.” I smile back, but for the rest of brunch only one thing is on my mind. Does he actually like me? The grouchy guy that seemingly hates everyone might like me?

While that thought bounces around in the back of my mind, we finish lunch and hang outside by our cars, planning our next meetup.

“So I know brunch is a Saturday thing, but how about a girls’ ski day?” Kayleigh asks. “One of the next Sundays. Why don’t you ladies come out to the slopes? It’s an off week competition, so I’ll be training. Check out a session then we can ski a few runs together.”

Grace and I both nod. “Yeah, I’d love that.”

Utah is already starting to feel more and more like home.