Simply Irresistible: A Totally Sweet Love Story Read online

  “Hey, Spice,” he said, looking up at me from the computer resting on his lap. He was leaning back against his headboard, dressed in nothing but a pair of pajama pants and a smile. Just how I liked him.

  I bounced onto the bed, landing on my knees and straddling his legs. The bed banged against the floor and he laughed, setting his computer aside and gripping my legs behind the knee to pull me up to his lap. “Good news?” He knew I had lunch with Brianna, but that was all.

  “Great news,” I said, feeling like my smile was going to split my face in two.

  “Tell me all about it,” he said, kissing the tip of my nose.

  I rested my arms over his shoulders, loving the intimacy of the position we were in. Face to face and chest to chest, but it wasn’t sexual.

  I told him how she complimented my dress when she got to the office and how the invite to lunch happened. “I kind of thought she was upset with me for holding out on her all this time. She seemed a little disappointed I had kept it from her, but when I explained to her that I wanted to establish myself on my own merit and everything, she understood. She also said I was silly because getting started in the industry is all about who you know. Fortunately for me, I already know a lot of people.”

  “That’s great, babe. It seems like she was very supportive.”

  “She was! And that’s not even the best part.” I didn’t wait for him to respond. “She’s going to set me up with a mentor. She knows so many people, and she has a few in mind that she trusts to steer me in the right direction—when I’m ready of course. I’m so not there yet, and I told her that. She said she thought it was smart that I knew my boundaries and all that. I just can’t believe I was nervous about talking to her about it. She was amazing. And she loves my stuff. She told me she thinks I always wear the cutest things.” I laughed. “I’m sorry. I’m just so wired.”

  “I can tell. I’m really proud of you, Spice.”

  I leaned my forehead against his. “Thanks. It means a lot to hear you say that.”

  “You hungry?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I practically growled. It was hours since lunch. “All I had at lunch was a salad with the tiniest piece of grilled salmon on it. It was good, but not filling at all. I was way too nervous to eat.”

  “My girl needs sustenance!” he said, making me laugh. “Let’s order a pizza.”

  “That sounds perfect.”

  29

  Tyler

  “It’s Tyler Scott, do you have a minute?”

  I always used my first and last name when identifying myself to my asshole boss because most of the time he didn’t remember which was which. If I used them both, there was a greater chance he’d recognize at least one of them.

  “Come in,” he called from behind the closed door. He sounded annoyed, but that wasn’t new. He was always annoyed these days. I’d heard rumors his job was on the chopping block after Preston had given him hell. My brother-in-law was a laid-back guy, but he was serious about business. He wouldn’t have made his fortune otherwise. He was also the kind of guy who strategized his next move; and I’m sure he had an entire chess game set up for Roger. I felt only a little guilty for not telling him just how much of an asshole Roger was, but I figured if the entire company knew, Preston had to know, too. If Roger had ever actually done anything damaging, I would have told Preston. No doubt about that. But so far, to my knowledge, all Roger was guilty of was cheating on his wife and not producing anything new for the magazine.

  Which was precisely why I was knocking on his door.

  Motivated by Melanie’s success with her own boss, I decided to present my column idea to Roger. Granted, Melanie and I had two very different bosses, but I thought Roger might have been feeling a little desperate given his reaming from Preston. He told him to come up with some new content…well, I was serving it to him on a grill. He could take it or leave it, but maybe he’d take it.

  “What do you need?” he asked, his voice snide, as I walked in.

  “I have a possible solution to the content problem,” I said, portraying confidence I didn’t actually feel. It wasn’t that I was nervous, I just hated the bastard and hated that his useless piece of shit ass had decision-making power. I also knew that this entire situation, of me reporting to him, was of my own making. If I wanted Roger’s job, Preston would have given it to me. That just wasn’t how I wanted things to happen. I didn’t want to be an editor. I wanted to grill and I wanted to write and this column…this column could help me to do just that.

  “Oh yeah,” he said, his gaze returning to the papers on his desk. His actions told me just how capable he thought I was of coming up with a solution to his problem. “And what’s that?”

  “You’re the Man is full of pieces on sports, fitness, women, and fashion…but we don’t have anything on food except the occasional summer barbecue article. I’m not suggesting we start adding recipes, but I think a regular food column that appeals to men would be a great addition to the magazine. For example,” I continued when he hadn’t yet interrupted me, “people don’t think they can produce good quality grilled food from a city apartment, or any apartment really. I’ve come up with some ideas to prove them wrong.”

  Roger looked up then, made eye contact. Then he laughed. “That’s your solution? You have some ideas about grilling in apartments? George Foreman came up with that solution years ago. Stop wasting my time.”

  I clenched my jaw and bit my tongue.

  Asshole.

  Without saying another word, I turned and walked out of his office. I stopped at my desk to shut down my monitor and grab my messenger bag.

  Fuck this shit.

  ***

  If you were wondering…I didn’t quit my job. I should have, but I didn’t. I went home that day and stayed there for an entire week. I had accrued enough sick and vacation time to support me for a little while. I left a message with Human Resources. Told them I had the flu. They’d call in a temp to support Roger while I was out. No big deal. He wouldn’t even notice my absence.

  My phone buzzed on my nightstand. I glanced at the screen. Melanie.

  There was one other thing, too.

  I hadn’t talked to Melanie since that day.

  At first, it was because I was too pissed off to function. I was afraid I’d do or say something I couldn’t take back out of anger at Roger and she didn’t deserve me projecting that onto her. So I responded to her phone call the day I walked out of Roger’s office with a text that said I wasn’t feeling well.

  The next day I was still pissed at Roger.

  The two days after that, I was pissed at her. Why did she get to have the awesome, supportive boss who was like a damn fairy godmother? She told her boss her dreams and BOOM! Wish granted. Like some crazy I Dream of Jeanie shit. I worked just as hard as she did, and I got the shit end of the stick.

  I never said I was thinking rationally.

  The shame came next.

  First, I decided I was such a failure that I couldn’t even successfully pitch an idea to a sinking ship of a magazine. Any size life raft would have done just fine, and I couldn’t even make that happen. My proposal sank as though it were Preston’s gigantic stainless-steel grill falling into his pool.

  So, naturally, I determined that Melanie was way too good for me. She deserved so much better than an executive assistant. Never mind that she, too, was an executive assistant.

  Again, I didn’t have the most logical thought processes going on.

  I was still spinning in the shame spiral, but now it was mostly because I was embarrassed for my behavior (or lack thereof) towards Melanie. I hadn’t answered her calls or texts in days. She came to my apartment and knocked at least twice. I didn’t answer. I’d given her a key a while back, but she didn’t use it, and I was glad. I wasn’t sure what I would have done if she walked in.

  She deserved so much better than what I was—or wasn’t—giving her.

  30

  Melanie

 
“These are fantastic,” Heather, my potential mentor told me as she looked at a few of the shirts I’d brought with me. “What do you pair this one with?” she asked, holding up a sleeveless pink shirt.

  “This denim skirt,” I said, pulling said item out of my tote bag.

  Heather looked impressed with my choice. “You’ve got a great eye and your designs are so fresh and fun.” She set the skirt and top down on the table between us and looked at me. “Brianna speaks highly of you. She doesn’t do that with a lot of people.”

  “I appreciate her support very much.”

  “She’s an amazing woman. When she called and said she had someone she wanted me to mentor, I knew I had to meet you because Brianna wouldn’t do that for just anyone. In fact, I wasn’t sure she would do it for anyone until she did it for you.”

  “Well, I’m glad you decided to meet me. I honestly never expected things to get this far. When I talked to Brianna about everything, I never imagined she would open all these doors for me.”

  “Brianna Heatherly holds a lot of keys in the fashion industry. She’s well-respected and people actually like her. She’s a double threat,” Heather smiled. “So tell me, Melanie, what are you thinking? What is it you want to do with your designs?”

  I’d rehearsed my answer to this question seventeen times since I accepted the meeting with Heather Gregory. Heather was a freelance trend forecaster contracted by some of the most popular—and most expensive—fashion houses in New York City. I’d actually met her briefly in Paris, but I hadn’t realized who she was until I stepped into her studio today. She was a short round woman with a sharp blonde bob and a kind face. I liked her immediately.

  “I want my own fashion line,” I said firmly. “I’d like to have a casual catalog as well as a professional catalog. This style already screams casual so that’s a given, but I want to come up with items that can pass as business wear.” I pulled the shift dress that started it all out of my tote. “Some more dresses like this and blouses that will go with simple pencil skirts.”

  “Professional boho-chic.” Heather chewed on the words like she was trying them on for size. “I love it, and I love your work. I think you’ve got something here and I would love to work with you. Does Brianna have you meeting with anyone else?”

  I couldn’t contain my smile. After the week I’d had, I really needed this. “She hasn’t set anything else up. She wanted me to talk to you first. She said we were kismet.”

  Heather laughed. “She would say that. What’s your timeline?”

  “I don’t really have one. This has all happened so quickly. I’m committed to working for Brianna. I don’t have another source of income right now, so that’s not something I can compromise on. I can put things together during my off hours, and hopefully grow to where this can be my primary focus.”

  Heather nodded. “I understand that, but I’d hate to see you spread yourself so thin between your line and the magazine. I’d really like for you to set some business goals for yourself and let’s meet up again next week to discuss them. Then we can come up with a plan.”

  “That sounds wonderful, Heather. Thank you so much.”

  She stood from her seat and I followed suit. “You’re so welcome. I love the energy that comes with a new project, and all this just screams energy. I’m honored to be part of this exciting time with you.”

  “Thank you for wanting to be part of it. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

  “Big things are going to happen for you, Melanie. I can see it now.”

  They had to, I thought to myself. Because I couldn’t handle any more disappointment.

  ***

  “Hey girl,” my best friend said as I walked down the block away from Heather’s office. “How was the meeting?”

  “It was great,” I told her, plugging my ear buds into my phone. It might have been 2019, but I loved my wired ear buds. Wireless could be so finicky, I preferred a good, wired connection.

  “That’s wonderful. I told you not to worry about it.”

  “I know, Mer. It’s just been a rough week, so it was hard to relax.”

  “Still no word?”

  “Radio silence.”

  I heard her sigh across the line. My sentiments exactly.

  “I can’t believe he ghosted you.”

  “Me either.”

  That was the understatement of the century. Things between Tyler and me had been awesome…until they suddenly weren’t. We were talking about moving in together...looking at apartments even. The worst part of it was that I had no idea what went wrong. Had I done something? Was he bored? Sick? Dead? I didn’t know.

  Well, that wasn’t entirely true. I knew he wasn’t dead. In a moment of desperation, I reached out to Preston, and he said that as far as he knew, Tyler was fine. Which made me feel even shittier about the entire situation.

  He was fine, and I was a damned mess.

  “Earth to Melanie.”

  “Sorry! I was stuck in my head. What’s up?”

  “Are you coming home for your dad’s birthday this weekend?”

  “Yeah, I think so.” Wasn’t like I had other plans. Tyler was my social life in the city, and he was gone. Only he wasn’t actually gone. He just wasn’t talking to me for whatever reason.

  I went from being upset to being pissed to being apathetic. If I was that inconsequential to him, then in return I shouldn’t care, right? If he thought so little of me, shouldn’t I think nothing of him?

  I tried to think that way, I really did, but it was hard. I loved him. He told me he loved me, too. We had already slept together at that point, so it wasn’t like he said it just to get in my pants. He had to have meant it, right?

  He once told me he wasn’t sure he knew how to love. It was the same night he told me he was afraid he was going to screw things up between us. The night he’d been afraid he already had screwed things up. I thought it was the saddest thing I’d ever heard.

  But maybe he was right.

  Maybe he didn’t know how to love.

  Because he was doing it all wrong.

  31

  Tyler

  The banging on my door intensified as the minutes wore on. I cranked the volume on my nineties one-hit-wonder playlist to drown it out. Whoever it was would eventually go away.

  “Little brother, if you don’t open this door, I am going to call Preston and have him break. it. down.” She enunciated the last three words.

  Well, shit. It was only a matter of time before Hannah showed up. Had Melanie called her? No…she wouldn’t have done that. Would she have?

  I crawled out of the Tyler-sized dent in my bed and walked to the door. I heard my sister grunt as I began to slowly disengage the locks.

  She banged again. “Pick up the pace.” So impatient.

  “Why are you being so harsh?” I asked as I opened the door. I didn’t do anything to her.

  “You called out of work all week, eh?” she asked, pushing past me into the room. She sure was in a mood, and I wasn’t sure my apartment was big enough for both of us at that moment.

  “How did you find out?” I asked, but I already knew the answer. I should have known Alice in Human Resources would tell on me. She was the only one in the entire organization who knew my relationship to Preston and that’s because I had to list his wife—my sister—as my emergency contact.

  “Melanie called Preston requesting proof of life on you. What the fuck is going on?”

  My eyes widened for two reasons. First, Hannah never cursed. Ever. And second…Melanie called Preston for proof of life? “Proof of life? What are you talking about?”

  “Why aren’t you talking to Melanie?” I should have known she was here about my relationship and not my well-being.

  I sighed, not wanting to get into it with my sister about Melanie. If I told her the entire story, I’d have to tell her about Roger. I didn’t want to do that. “Things just aren’t working out in that area of my life right now.”

&
nbsp; Understatement.

  “Oh, Tyler. Stop being overdramatic.”

  “You think I’m being overdramatic? When an octopus gets upset, it eats itself. That’s overdramatic.”

  “I don’t think that’s true,” she said, tilting her head to the side in consideration of the random fact I’d spewed at her.

  “Does it even matter, Hannah?” I asked, rubbing my eyes.

  “You’re throwing away a good thing, Tyler. Over nothing, most likely. I think it does matter.”

  “Yeah, yeah. One person in a relationship is always right. The other’s male.”

  “You’ve always hid behind your humor, little brother. But I’m on to you,” she said, pointing her finger at me.

  She pushed past me again, this time towards the door.

  “That’s it…you’re leaving?” I asked, surprised she was letting me off this easy.

  She looked around my apartment, and I knew what she was seeing: old take-out containers and an assortment of empty cans and bottles. “Tyler,” my name came out on a resigned sigh. “I think you know you screwed things up with Melanie and you’re punishing yourself enough. You don’t need my help realizing that. Do I wish you’d talk to me? Of course. Am I going to make you? No. You’re an adult. You need to start figuring this shit out for yourself. I love you, but I can’t make you grow up.”

  With that, she left the apartment, the latch clicking quietly behind her.

  Silence filled the room.

  I looked around, and for the first time in days, I was disgusted with what I saw. I flashed back to a little more than a week ago when Melanie burst in excited to share the news about her meeting with Brianna. I remembered how happy we were and how we made love three times that night.