Not Safe for Work(80)

Chapter Twenty-Six I shifted my gaze back and forth from the schematic in front of me to the model I was supposed to be building.


Nothing. I’ve got nothing.

I couldn’t translate the dimensions to the pieces of wire and foam-core I’d cut on Friday. Couldn’t remember how they were supposed to go together, where they were supposed to go, what the f*ck this thing was supposed to look like when it was complete.

I wasn’t even scatter-brained. I was no-brained. No amount of coffee was going to get me out of this funk. All morning, I’d alternated between staring into space and staring at things with no clue what to do with them. Though I’d slept like the dead last night, I felt like I hadn’t slept in weeks. Drained. Dragging. Dumb.

“Hey, McNeill.” Cal jarred me out of my thoughts. “What do you think?”

I pushed myself up, gingerly rubbing my lower back. “About what?”

“About what?” Scott snorted. “Dude, haven’t you been paying attention?”

“Uh, can’t say I have.” I glanced at Teagan, and she gave me that look that said she’d be getting answers out of me later. I muffled a cough. “So, what do I think about what?”

Scott clasped his fingers together and stretched his arms over his head. “Cal thinks he’s got a shot at Dawson.”

“Dawson?” I blinked. “As in, Marie Dawson?”

Cal went bright red.

Bianca patted his arm. “It’s worth a try. The worst she can do is say no.”

“No, that’s not the worst she can do.” Scott shoved a chip in his mouth. “The worst she can do is sleep with him.”

“How is that the worst she can do?” I asked.

“Um, duh.” Scott shrugged. “Because chicks like her tear off their mate’s head after copulating.”

Laughing, I shook my head. “You are one sick f*ck, you know that, Scott?”

Teagan snorted. “Says the man who’s boning Cal’s mom.”

“I hate you both,” Cal grumbled.

“So, when critters like that rip off their mate’s head, do they do it right after sex?” Scott asked. “Or do they wait until they’ve, like, cuddled awhile?”

“I don’t think I’d cuddle with something that was going to tear my head off,” Teagan said.

“Could be worse.” Bianca nodded toward Cal. “You could be cuddling with Calvin.”

“Good point.”

“Hey!”

“Come on, guys,” I said. “Dawson’s not that bad.”

“How the f*ck would you know?” Cal asked.

“Yeah.” Scott eyed me. “Have you been cheating on—”

“Dude, if you say it,” Cal warned, “I swear to God, I will stab you with a pencil.”

“Boys, boys.” I laughed. “Settle down.”

“Dorks,” Bianca muttered.

“Well, with all that appetizing talk,” Teagan said, capping a tube of cement and glancing at the clock. “I could go for an early lunch. I’m going to Arturo’s. Anyone else?”

“Hell yeah,” Cal said.

“I’m there,” Scott and Bianca said at the same time.

“Someone bring Silent Dave back to earth, then,” she said. “What about you, McNeill?”

I pursed my lips, eyeing the model I wasn’t making any progress on. I wasn’t really in the mood to socialize, but I wasn’t in any frame of mind to build this thing either. And any distraction I could get right then was a good one. Fuck it. I grabbed my jacket. “Who’s driving?”

“You are, old man,” Scott said.

“If I’m driving, you’re walking.”

Bianca laughed. “I’ll take Scott and Teagan if you’ll take Cal and Dave.”

I grimaced. “If I must.”

We headed out to the parking garage, arranged everyone into Bianca’s car and mine, and headed over to Arturo’s, an aging Italian place that knew us all by name. The hostess showed us to our usual booth—way in the back so we wouldn’t disturb the more civilized customers—and brought us drinks.

As we bantered and ordered and plowed through a basket of breadsticks, I could barely keep up with the conversation. Hell, when the food arrived, I had to stare at my plate of cannelloni for a moment before I realized that, yes, this was what I ordered. I didn’t remember ordering at all.

All through lunch, my mind kept wandering back to the weekend. Back to every moment with Rick.

Sure, there’d been a bump in the road, and the club had turned out to be a bad idea, but he’d recovered from that and we’d still had an amazing time. God, wasn’t that an understatement. Rick was such a beautiful submissive. Willing. Eager. Adventurous. And I looked forward to the aftercare almost as much as I did the scene or the sex. Lying beside him, relaxing, rubbing lotion on his welts or helping work stiffness out of a muscle, kissing, talking…

Everything we did, I loved. I wasn’t aroused by the memories, I wasn’t turned off. I was just…preoccupied. Shell-shocked in a way. It had been a great weekend, but now my mind and body were both crashing. Fatigue. Overload. Having to function like a normal human being, surrounded by people but touching none of them.