The Bed Mate, Page 2

  “I’ve never seen the women get rid of it as fast, either. Just balled up bar napkins piled high like fallen soldiers.” He tsked in mock sympathy.

  “If he cooled it with the cheesy lines, he would probably do better,” I said, rolling up the window with a sigh.

  “I heard him tell that redhead by the jukebox that she looked like his first wife.”

  “Ouch,” I said with a laugh and then paused. “Wait…he’s never been married, has he?”

  Sam shot a wry grin in my direction. “Exactly.”

  I covered my eyes with my arm and groaned. “Ugh. Jeremy, why?”

  For the next few minutes on the ride to my place, we deconstructed the rest of the night, chatting comfortably.

  As we turned on to my street, dread began to close over me like a dark cloud until I remembered Trevor wouldn’t be waiting for me. He’d asked to stay over tonight and I’d begged off. The sense of relief washing over me didn’t bode well for my current relationship, and I vowed that tomorrow, I’d finally do what I’d been putting off for months.

  The old tried and true pros and cons list.

  That settled, I was feeling slightly less like garbage as Sam pulled up to the curb in front of my apartment building.

  “I’m not tired. Want to come in and watch bad Christmas movies with me?”

  “Christmas is over.”

  “Never too early to start for next year,” I argued. This, too, was something Sam knew. My Christmas movie collection was extensive and full of favorites.

  I tended to break out my collection mid-October, easing into the season with The Nightmare Before Christmas, but by this time of year and straight through January?

  It was a new movie every night. I had a lot of ground to cover.

  “Besides, I have something for you,” I added, sweetening the pot in case my promise of an awful movie hadn’t convinced him.

  “You broke our rule again, didn’t you?” Sam asked.

  I grinned. “You’re going to like your present.”

  “I always like my present, but you’re not supposed to get me one. We had a deal. And, again, quick reminder… Christmas is over.”

  “Exactly. So I didn’t break the rules. It’s an early birthday gift. And you’re going to really like it. Like, really, really like it.”

  “Fine, then you can give it to me in February for my birthday.” His firm mouth quirked into a crooked half-smile as he surveyed the road in front of him and I knew I had him. “And understand that, when you get me presents, it really sets the bar pretty high for what I’m going to get you in return.”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” I said, pulling the huge shoulders of the borrowed coat around me.

  “Yes, you do,” he said, shooting me an incredulous stare. “You’re a super-human gift giver. Nobody can compare.”

  I swung open my door as he turned off the ignition and we both hopped out of the car.

  “Super-human is a bit of a stretch,” I said as and we stepped out into the gently falling snow and made our way to the double doors.

  “It’s not,” he argued, holding the door open for me and then stepping through. “Like that gift from last year—”

  “I just pay attention is all.” I shrugged.

  “But who else would get someone the exact replica of their train collection from childhood? You contacted my mother behind my back for pictures,” he reminded me as we climbed into the waiting elevator.

  I pressed the button for the third floor and frowned. “Your gifts are thoughtful, too. I love my body wash collection. I now have a fragrance for every mood.”

  This was true. For every birthday, holiday, or special occasion over the past eight years, Sam had gotten me a different kind of soap and lotion gift basket. At first I wondered if he thought I stunk, but by now I’d learned to roll with it. It was sweet in his Sam kind of way.

  We made our way down the carpeted atrium and slowed to a stop by my door. I jammed the key in the lock and turned, shooting him a quick glance.

  “Speaking of gifts, what did you end up getting for Melanie this year?” I asked as the door swung open. We stepped in and he made a beeline for the mini-bar I’d created with a glass and iron bar cart, and festive glasses in all shapes and sizes.

  Sam poured himself a glass of the whiskey I kept especially for him and gulped down two fingers of it before scrubbing a hand through his dark hair. “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Why not? I bet she loved—”

  “We broke up a few days ago,” he blurted, his tone more curt than I’d ever heard it.

  My shoulders fell and I plopped down onto my overstuffed, gray sofa with a sigh. Seemed like I wasn’t the only one with trouble in romance-land. “What do you mean? How come?”

  “It wasn’t working out.” He shrugged his broad shoulders and took another sip. “You want?” he asked, gesturing to the vodka bottle questioningly.

  I ignored his attempt to change the subject and pressed harder. “I don’t get it, Sam. Why? She was so nice. And I thought you liked her.”

  “I did like her. We just had some...issues.”

  “Like what?” I pressed.

  There was a long pause and Sam used the time to inspect his drink as if it held the answers to life’s most profound questions. Finally, he turned to face me. “Irreconcilable differences.” The note of finality ringing in his voice was a clear indication that, as far as he was concerned, the subject was closed, but damn it, a person didn’t hide things like this from their best friend for days without a good reason.

  “Why are you being so closed off?” I asked gently, patting the space beside me. “Come on, it’s me. Let me in, Sam.”

  He eyed me over the top of his highball glass, took a sip, and then let out a deep sigh. “Fine. If you swear you’ll stop badgering me, I’ll tell you. But remember, you asked.”

  He joined me on the couch, keeping a safe distance between us. “There were some issues in the bedroom.”

  “I...see,” I said, ignoring the rush of heat that shot to my cheeks.

  As close as we were, Sam and I rarely talked about sex outside of bawdy jokes. Our personal sex lives were something we both sort of tacitly tiptoed around. And now, as I was facing his head on, I realized why. Sure, Melanie was nice. But when I thought of her in Sam’s bed, all snuggled up against him, with her naked bits touching his naked bits?

  It made me feel all squidgy inside and I didn’t like it one bit.

  Another one to file under be careful what you wish for, dummy.

  “So, like what kind of problems?” I ventured finally. I’d been the one to open this can of worms and now that I’d finally coerced him into talking, it seemed only polite to make sure he knew if he wanted to keep talking, I was here for him.

  “I just wanted to have sex more than she did, that’s all.”

  “In a general kind of way or like a crazy four-times-a-day kind of way?”

  He stared at me like I’d sprouted a second head.

  “What? It’s a serious question,” I said.

  “What do you take me for?” he asked, running his finger around the edge of his glass. “No, I just wanted, I don’t know, a few times a week? Maybe for her to initiate sometimes?”

  An image of me standing in Sam’s bedroom doorway in nothing but a trench coat filled my head and I shoved it away ruthlessly.

  I swallowed to moisten my suddenly dry throat and nodded. “That sounds nice, actually. And very reasonable.” I patted his arm awkwardly. “Trevor never wants to anymore,” I added.

  Why had I even said that? It was true, but Jesus, we’d already crossed one invisible boundary tonight. It was like I was trying to make this as weird as possible for both of us.

  An uncomfortable silence settled over the room and Sam took another sip of his drink, then set it down on the table next to him.

  “Never? I can’t imagine—” he broke off, his voice sounding low and gravelly before he cleared his throat. “Are things okay
otherwise?”

  “He just isn’t interested for some reason.”

  What I didn’t bother to add was that I hardly cared anymore. I had the distinct feeling that tomorrow’s pro list was going to be woefully short.

  Sam’s gaze lingered on my face for a long moment and then he turned away. “Well, I’m sure you guys will work it out,” he said, slapping his knees and shooting me a bright, forced smile. “What’s tonight’s movie? To Grandmother’s House We Go?”

  I tugged off the coat on my shoulders and tossed it onto the chair across from us as I stood. “Been there, seen that twice already this season. Tonight, it’s Mistle-Tones.”

  “No,” Sam groaned.

  “Come on, Sammy.” I flicked on the TV and headed into my bedroom, calling back to him over my shoulder. “Can you get it off my Netflix queue while I change?”

  I took an extra couple minutes finding my pj’s because I was still feeling weird and unsettled, but by the time I went back out, I’d managed to talk myself down.

  We settled in close together, ready to slip back into our more regular, comfortable routine.

  Still, as the movie started, I couldn’t help but think of what Sam had said.

  If the amount of sex in a relationship was a deal breaker for him, maybe it should be for me, too. I lived a safe and boring life by choice. If I took sex out of the equation too, I might as well just nap for the next sixty years.

  That so didn’t work for me.

  New top priority for tomorrow?

  Find out what was going on inside Trevor’s head so I could decide if a pros and cons list was even worth doing. Because that awkward exchange with my bestie a few minutes ago?

  Had been the sexiest thing to happen to me in months.

  Not good.

  Chapter Two

  Sam

  It took roughly ten minutes of watching the movie before Maggie curled up in a ball, laid her head in my lap, and went straight to sleep.

  Her soft brown curls were splayed across my thigh and I glanced down at her while I nursed my scotch, thinking again about what she’d said earlier.

  The idea that she was sex-deprived had instantly sent my brain into overdrive and made my cock twitch with anticipation. Which was why I’d always avoided the topic with her whenever possible. It only made my balls ache and my brain throb with dirty thoughts. Better to steer clear of it altogether with her—and God only knew the last thing I wanted to hear about was what her sex life with Trevor was like.

  Fucking Trevor.

  I’d never liked the guy, but he’d hung around for years like a vine on a tree that was slowly sucking away its life force. Not that Maggie had changed because of Trevor. She was rock solid. The same awesome person she’d always been and her relationship hadn’t gotten in the way of our friendship. It was just, well, he didn’t make her happy.

  Not in the way he should, anyway.

  Not the way I could.

  Her love of all things Christmas? Trevor hated that. He was a big Halloween guy and refused to acknowledge the season until December twenty-fifth. She wasn’t allowed to watch her Christmas movies around him, either. What was that about? Too much joy in her face for you, Trevor? I’d always wanted to ask him snidely.

  But it was more than that. When we were all out together, he was like the fun police, constantly monitoring her. Watching how much she was drinking or giving her a look if she ordered something too heavy off the menu. Maggie took it all in stride, but I noticed. Just like I noticed how he never held the door for her and never got her flowers just because.

  It was the little things. And Trevor never paid attention to the little things. But now, if he also wasn’t taking care of business when it came to the bigger things?

  That was a serious problem. It was one thing to forget flowers; it was another entirely not to do your damnedest to make sure your woman came until she was hoarse from screaming at least a couple times a week.

  Almost as if she could hear my thoughts, Maggie shifted in my lap, opening and closing her full lips in her sleep as she twisted closer to my aching crotch.

  Fuck, I had to get out of here and fast—before she woke up and realized exactly what she’d done to me.

  Careful not to disturb her, I slipped away from her and propped a pillow beneath her head. I padded quietly to the linen closet and pulled out a fluffy blanket, pausing to shake it gently over her before sneaking out the door, making sure to lock it behind me with my spare key.

  My building was only a block away and the snow still wasn’t coming down all that hard, so I opted to walk and leave my truck behind in hopes that the cold air would do me and my wayward dick some good.

  Hands in my pockets, I strolled down the sidewalk, trying my hardest not to think about Maggie and Trevor, but I couldn’t help myself.

  For all his problems, it was nice that Maggie had someone. Someone stable and long-term. That was what I wanted, too, but for some reason, my taste in women had always left something to be desired.

  They always started out normal enough. Like Fiona, the girl I’d dated over the summer. She was beautiful and smart—a kindergarten teacher with a heart of gold. Or, at least, that’s what I’d thought until she’d broken out the whips and asked me to meow like a cat. I liked to get wild as much as the next guy but there was a line for me, and she was way on the other side of it.

  Then there was Bethany, the short-lived brunette I’d met during a skydiving excursion. She was funny and easy to talk to, and we even shared a passion for death-defying sports. For a while I thought she might be the one that would make the dreams starring Maggie finally cease and desist. But when a waitress at a diner got a little too friendly with me one day, Bethany slashed her tires and stuffed a banana in her exhaust pipe.

  When I’d confronted her about it, she’d looked me dead in the eyes and said, “Now you know not to toy with me. Next time, I’ll cut a bitch.”

  I’d walked out of her apartment, called the cops, changed my number, and never looked back.

  Which brought us to Melanie.

  She’d seemed normal, just like the rest of them. She was a manager at a department store and she loved country music. On our first few dates, she’d tried to get me into the scene and I’d gone along. We had fun, teasing each other and trying new things.

  She was the kind of girl that a guy could settle down with. If, of course, it hadn’t been for her sexual hang-ups.

  I’d tried to be understanding at first. I knew it was awkward to be with a new person, so when she wanted to have sex with the lights off and under the sheets, I didn’t mind.

  But then she’d just lain there, quiet as a mouse, holding her breath like she was waiting for something painful to be over. Like having sex with me was the equivalent of having a root canal. Again, I’d put it off to nerves or insecurities. I’d tried to soothe her of them, tried to show her how to relax and let herself go, but nothing worked. In fact, it only got more difficult. On the rare occasion she wanted to have sex, she left her shirt and underwear on, insisting that I do the same and push her panties to the side. But even that only happened three times before enough was enough.

  I wanted to be with someone who wanted to be with me. I didn’t want to beg a woman to have sex with me, didn’t want to convince her. It felt wrong and weird.

  When I’d finally called her on it flat out, she admitted that she’d never had a sex drive and didn’t want to pursue any type of alternative to that. She was perfectly happy living a life without sex.

  I sure as hell wasn’t.

  But the worst part was? I wasn’t even sad. In fact, I felt kind of relieved. Because if I had to sit down and be totally honest with myself, I’d have to admit that it probably didn’t matter much one way or the other. Flawed or not, the reason I hadn’t settled with those women or any of the rest was simple.

  They weren’t Maggie.

  I reached the door of my apartment and shuffled inside, careful to brush the snow from my shoes an
d shoulders before glancing around the place.

  It was everything Maggie’s place wasn’t. Where her house was warm and cozy, with stacks of magazines and rows of scented candles, mine was sterile and neat. There were no blankets or cupboards full of movies. But then again, that was probably because I hadn’t allowed Maggie to redecorate the thousand times she’d asked.

  Trudging into the kitchen, I fixed myself a turkey sandwich and carried it into my living room. Then I plopped onto the sofa and stared down at my sad, lonely meal.

  Maybe I had to settle for the fact that, no matter how hard I looked, I would never find anyone that fit with me the way Maggie did. She was just...my person. The puzzle piece that clicked with mine.

  She was the person I called when something good happened. And when something terrible happened, too. She was the person I could count on at the end of the day.

  People could go their whole lives without finding someone as true and genuine as Maggie.

  So whenever I had to entertain the idea of her fucking someone else...

  I scrubbed a hand over my face.

  I was losing my mind. Or, at least, I was going to if I didn’t get Maggie off the brain.

  Maybe it was a good thing she wasn’t going on this trip with me and the guys. It would give me a chance to get my head clear and my priorities straight. They already broke my balls mercilessly when she wasn’t around about how I had two girlfriends, her and Melanie, and how I’d flipped the scripts of the whole “friends with benefits” thing in the lamest way. They called it “Ball and Chain Without Benefits.”

  Bunch of fucking geniuses, the lot of them.

  I took a bite of my sandwich before noticing my appetite was gone, then threw the rest of it in the trash before making my way to my room and opening my suitcase.

  The big snowboarding and skiing trip was only a couple days away and I was going to focus on prepping for that. Grabbing some stuff from my dresser, I threw in a few days’ worth of clothes, my toothbrush, deodorant, and—

  I opened the top drawer and stared down at the yellow box of condoms staring back at me.