“Caz and I are just friends, so can we please let this go?” I shouldn’t have had to defend myself, but I didn’t want her to believe her reaction was justified.
“Sure. Consider it dropped.” She glared at me, and it felt anything but that.
However, I was so anxious about asking Ember out that I had no energy to deal with her drama. Without another word, I walked to the back and shut myself in my office. I needed to recenter my energy.
I repeated the mantra Caz gave me, trying to convince myself that I had the strength I needed, but my mind and body were locked in battle.
With every deep breath I took to relax, a different negative thought popped into my head. I had now worked myself into a frenzy and was ready to call it quits until my phone rang, distracting me from my inner demon.
“Hello, this is Shiloh Wilbers, Meal Planner Extraordinaire for Sprout and Sprigs. How may I help you?” I recited on autopilot, but a sense of calm washed over me when I heard the voice on the other end.
“Hello, Ms. Wilbers. I hoped to meet with you before the main event to get some footage. Would that be okay?” Caz’s voice was breezy, and the tension lessened with every word she spoke—until I processed what she had said.
“Did you say tape me before?” The nerves were getting the best of me, but I couldn’t keep letting her down. I wouldn’t allow it. She deserved better, and I wanted to be better.
“Not unless you want to wait.” Her patience with me seemed to be unending.
“No, we don’t need to wait. Tell me when you want to meet, and I’ll be ready.” Saying it out loud was the only way to hold myself accountable.
“Awesome. I’ll text you after I meet with Matrix. I hope you have an amazing morning, and I can’t wait to see you.” She was charming and made me smile, but she quickly added, “Because we have a lot of work to do. But don’t worry; we’ll get it done.”
It had made me happy that she wanted to see me, but my heart sank a little once she said it was just for work. I shouldn’t take it personally because it was my fault she was pressed for time. Some of me liked the idea of having someone excited to be in my life—even if it was just a friend.
Chapter 19Caz
Waking up this morning, I should have been grateful that Shiloh wanted to continue the segment because that meant she was literally saving my ass. But a part of me would gladly put myself on the Pepper Parade hook if it meant I could talk some sense into her.
However, at this point, if I told her my true feelings about Ember, she might misinterpret my intentions since she already did that once. She would probably assume I was warning her off so I could sneak in and take a shot. I shuddered, thinking about it.
Ember’s vibe reminded me so much of Davia that being around her triggered me. She was one of those beautiful people who were ugly the more you knew about them. It was probably her conceitedness that turned me off the most. That was the same with Davia. There was a line that you shouldn’t cross with confidence—cockiness.
To be fair, I could have been projecting some of my negative feelings about Davia onto Ember, but I didn’t think I was wrong. Reading people was something I did very well, but Shiloh had known Ember longer, so I would refrain from putting in my two cents. Although I wasn’t sure “known” was the correct word, it seemed like infatuation was more appropriate. Again, I shouldn’t let it bother me.
My job was to help Shiloh find a date. It wasn’t my duty to decide who would be a suitable candidate. The only outcome I could wish for was that Ember didn’t embarrass her or hurt her feelings. If those two things didn’t happen, my emotions would remain neutral—at least on the outside.
But as I rolled out of bed, a knot tightened in my stomach, and the unease was overwhelming. Something told me this was a bad idea, but it wasn’t my idea, so what could I do? Maybe if I called Shiloh, I’d be able to gauge where she was, lessening my worry.
I grabbed my phone and walked into the kitchen to start coffee. It was almost nine, and I had slept through the relentless glare of the morning sun. But now that I was up, a throbbing ache pounded behind my eyes that only caffeine could cure.
As the aroma of espresso filled the air, I cleared my throat and dialed Shiloh’s number. I didn't have a plan for what to say, but when I heard her voice, my inner turmoil returned with a vengeance. It was more than I was afraid she would get hurt by Ember—I didn’t want her to date Ember at all.
Ember didn’t deserve her, but then again, neither did I. However, that didn’t stop my big mouth from telling her how much I couldn’t wait to see her. Hopefully, I covered it with work, but I had to end the conversation before anything else slipped out.
After getting off the phone, nothing was resolved, and now my head and heart hurt. Her enthusiasm was palpable as she spoke, making it impossible to miss. I was sure it was mixed with nerves, but she was getting ready to ask out the woman of her dreams, and from what I could tell, Ember would say yes.
“Ahhh.” I let out a frustrated growl, which only made the pain inside me worse.
How did I get here? As I drank my espresso, I couldn't help but notice the way my hands trembled. I wanted to curse Matrix for putting me in this situation, but how could I? He tried to warn me that I might have feelings for Shiloh, but I ignored him. I thought by convincing myself that I was still broken, I could prevent anything from happening. But last night, while she was rubbing my shoulders, I knew I was in trouble. The emotions were stronger, and the more I told myself to pull away, the more my body craved to be near her. The worst part was that I couldn’t tell her how I felt, or I would be a selfish prick.
I probably wasn’t in a place to date, especially not Shiloh. She deserved a Cinderella: an eternal optimist whose life hadn’t hardened her. Shiloh was a caretaker and needed to be with someone who would do the same for her. No matter how much I longed to be that person, I couldn't deny the truth—I wasn't. All I could offer was my support, and I’d silently hold on to everything else.
I felt like shit and thought about canceling, but Shiloh had agreed to the interview today, so I needed to put on my best happy face and get it done. But when I entered the bathroom and saw my reflection, with the deep lines etched on my forehead, I grimaced. My only hope was a shower could eliminate some of my dread.
I turned the temperature up as high as it would go and the steam covered my image in the mirror. The moment I stepped into the stall, the scorching droplets acted as sensory overload, momentarily numbing my emotions and intensifying the physical pain. I stood there, hoping it would erase the invisible stains of stress and anxiety, but it didn’t.
Whenever I found myself in such a heightened state, the one thing that always soothed me was a release. I lowered the heat and adjusted the nozzle to pulsing. The intermittent stream glided across my nipples as my thumb delicately circled my clit. My arousal was building as the various sensations enveloped me, causing a throbbing to radiate from deep within my core.
As my pleasure intensified, my mind seamlessly filled in the gaps, painting a complete picture of ecstasy. I took a finger, teasing my entrance as images of Davia played in my head. I urged her into my favorite position—on all fours—while I trailed my nails down her back. As she moaned loudly, her sounds causing my wetness to turn into a pool. Then I sunk my teeth into the meaty part of her ass. She loved it when I teased her from both ends. As she bucked her hips, my hands squeezed her cheeks, spreading her open so my tongue could tickle her crevice.
The memories were taking me to the edge, and I adjusted the showerhead's spray to caress my lower lips, which ignited a rush of desire. As I leaned into the water, I slid a finger inside me while visions of my strap-on penetrated Davia from behind. My free hand instinctively went to my chest, massaging it as I rolled my hardened nipple between my fingers. I pictured myself slamming deeper inside of her dripping wet pussy. But as my excitement reached its peak, it wasn’t Davia I was fucking. I tried to take a step back and prevent the climax from culminating, but I had already crossed the point of no return.
My hands were moving frantically against my breast and my sweet spot, and before I could keep my thoughts to myself, “Shiloh” rolled off my tongue while we both rode the wave of pleasure together. The aftershocks kept coming, and so did I.
The intensity of the orgasm was overwhelming, and as it washed over me, Shiloh vividly flooded my mind: her chocolate eyes, her purposefully messy hair, the little dimple at the corner of her mouth, and the way her short stature would make it so easy for me to pick her up and have my way with her.
“Fuuuuuuck!” I opened my eyes and pulled myself out of this trance.
This wasn’t what I needed to relieve my anxiety. In fact, it made it worse. As if being wound tight wasn't enough, I also had a sick feeling creeping up on me. What was I going to do? How could I be professional and a good friend when I wanted to have sex with Shiloh?
I had to cast away those troubling mental images and move forward. After toweling off from the shower, I opted for my favorite sky-blue button-up shirt, which made my eyes pop, and paired it with tailored black dress pants. I again left my hair to air-dry, giving it more wave and body. Then I cuffed my sleeves to my elbows and slid on my white leather Vans. Once I spritzed on some of my favorite cologne, which was citrusy but woodsy, I was out the door.
Usually, I walked to the studio, but I wasn’t sure where Shiloh would want to meet before the coffeehouse, so I decided to drive. It took me longer to park than it did to get there, but I didn’t mind because at least I didn’t have to deal with the wind that inevitably would have caused my hair to rat up.
As I entered the third floor, I saw Matrix talking to our head boss, Mr. Tolken, in the sound room. I hoped he wasn’t getting in trouble because I hadn’t given him anything to produce for the show this week. But from his body language, he didn’t seem like a scolded child. Quite the opposite. He was smiling widely and supportively patting Mr. Tolken’s shoulder.
I watched as the encounter ended. There was an overwhelming urge to hide, but I was in an empty hallway with nowhere to go. As Mr. Tolken stepped out, he offered a curt nod.
“Ms. Montegomery. I take it you have a good show planned?” He kept walking, not waiting for a response, which made it appear more of a threat than a question.
