Crushing on My Billionaire Best Friend: A Hot Romantic Comedy Read online

  “He was using you, anyway.” Oliver shrugged. “I do love your term of endearment for me, though. Muffin. That never gets old, Bookworm.”

  “Nope. It’s here to stay.” I quirked my lips into a smirk of my own. “But, maybe I was using him. Did you ever think of that?” Bookworm? Oh, he thought he was “original” with that one. Pfft. I had better names than that.

  He flashed that self-assured smile of his that always slayed me. I’d built up a lot of confidence over the years (granted, a lot through my friend Lisa), but I would have killed to have it come as naturally to me as it did Oliver. And somehow, even with all the money and women any guy could ever dream of having, he still managed to preserve his kindness and a sense of humility.

  “Were you jealous of him for some reason?” I asked, trying not to blush.

  Oliver hadn’t done much to hide his dislike for the guy back in the day, which made my wishful-thinking emotions even more confused about his feelings for me—The never-ending saga of “does he or doesn’t he”? It only ever ended up with one very clear, resounding conclusion: “Sorry, Sug’, he does not feel the same way about you.”

  “Not jealous.” His expression appeared serious. “I just want the best for you. Always.”

  I tried not to let him catch me rolling my eyes. I’d always hated the way he insisted nobody was ever good enough for me. All the while I thought he was the perfect one for me.

  “So, what do you have planned for the day?” He pulled up a stool across from me, causing me to have naughty thoughts about those muscular arms and what the rest of his glorious body looked like naked, when he sat down with his own plate of food and cup of coffee.

  I let out a long sigh, clearing the sexual fantasies from my brain and realizing I hadn’t planned that far ahead. “Well, since you’ve forbidden me from returning to work for a few days, I guess I’ll go visit the wreckage of my apartment. I’ll need to stop by a drug store and buy all the necessities I’m suddenly without. You know, girl stuff. I also need some clothes. I’m sure there’s some insurance stuff to sort out. Oh, I have to call my dad and deal with the heart attack he’ll have from this news.”

  “Huh. Sounds like you’ve got nothing to do all day.” And the smirk was back.

  “Right, Gym Sock.” I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Want to go with me to my dad’s house instead of calling him? I know it’d be the highlight of your day.”

  His face paled a bit, and he shook his head. “Nah. I’ve got to work. You’ve got your hands full. But, seriously, though, if you need me, just call.”

  “Uh-huh. That’s what I thought.” I eyed him over my coffee mug.

  He leaned forward and grabbed his own cup.

  “Maybe I’ll go check in with the homeless ladies on the other side of town,” I said. “You know, just to weigh out the options of my future. Maybe learn a few tips and tricks from them.”

  “Hey, you could moonlight as a singer. You know, with performances like what you were putting on in here this morning, you could make the big bucks,” he joked, but his smile quickly faded into something more solemn. “Seriously, Laney. I’d never allow you to live on the streets. If you need anything financially or whatever, you know I’m here for you. I know you do well for yourself, but…I just want to help in any way I can.” His eyes were filled with a sincerity that made me squirm, finding it hard to swallow. My throat only tightened more, and my nipples peaked when he reached across the countertop and squeezed my hand. I wasn’t wearing a bra. Damn. I hoped he wouldn’t notice!

  I could barely look him in the eye with the weight of his strong hand holding mine. I could feel my palms sweating and had to pull back from his comforting grip, my nipples rubbing against the fabric of the shirt.

  “I’m fine. I promise! Thanks for offering, though.” He was so sweet. See? That’s just another reason why he was so incredible.

  “Well, why don’t you let me give you a ride? I can take you on my way to work.”

  “You really don’t have to.”

  “Really, Laney.” He shrugged. “You’re going to have to stop being so stubborn. Just let me take care of you for a while.”

  That deep and serious concern returned to his brown eyes, cutting me like a knife. If he only wanted to take care of me in the ways I wanted him to the most. But those were dangerous thoughts to keep giving into as long as I was living under his roof.

  Note to self: Always wear a bra around him. I can’t even imagine the embarrassment if he accidentally saw my boobs. I’d die. Like, drop dead and die. For real.

  “After all, what are friends for?” he added before setting his plate in the sink and disappearing into his bedroom. “I’ll shower and get dressed. Then we can head out when you’re ready.”

  “Right. What are friends for,” I mumbled under my breath, feeling my nipples finally relax. They had a freaking mind of their own and really needed to get a grip. The girls couldn’t just get all perky willy-nilly in Oliver’s penthouse, for goodness sake.

  Down, girls. Hard nipples are not a thing here. Clear? So, I’m talking to my breasts now. Awesome. Maybe I need therapy.

  I finished up my breakfast and placed my plate in the sink before hunting down my clothes from the night before. I wasn’t excited about putting them back on, but it was better than going out in Oliver’s shorts. Though, it was a little thrilling to have the remnants of his scent wrapped around me. I couldn’t resist taking in one last long smell of his shirt before giving it up to slip back into my bra, slacks, and blouse.

  I waited for Oliver by the door and followed him out to the elevator and down to his building’s parking garage. I was so weighed down by the impending visit to the ashes of my apartment that I didn’t notice he was no longer walking beside me. I stopped and swiveled around to see him approaching a motorcycle in one of the parking spots.

  “Come on.” He waved his hand. “Hop on.”

  My mouth dropped open as I looked over the death trap, while Oliver held a helmet out toward me. “You…want to take me…on that thing?” I stammered.

  “Sure, why not?” He shrugged. “I was planning to ride it into work today, anyway. It’s a beautiful day out.”

  While nuzzling up behind Oliver with my arms wrapped around him had its appeal, I was not about to get on that thing with him. I was curious, but afraid.

  “You know, on second thought…I’ll just take a cab.” I smiled nervously.

  “Come on, no. You can’t be serious.” He had an almost pleading expression on his face. “This thing is as safe as any cab. I promise I’ll take it easy on you.”

  “I’m wearing heels,” I said and crossed my arms.

  “So?”

  “I don’t have a helmet.”

  “I know, got a spare right here. Is it your first time on a bike? You’ve never sat on one? Hurry up.”

  I couldn’t help but tilt my head and shoot him a look that begged the question—Do you really have to ask? When would I have had the opportunity to jump on the back of a motorcycle if not with you?

  “No, I haven’t. And I’m not in any hurry to,” I shot back. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll see you later, okay?”

  “Come on. You’d have fun if you’d just give it a try.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Oh, yeah? History has proven quite the opposite. Usually when you talk me into something, I end up regretting it.”

  “Name one example. Right now.”

  The memory of the awful high school bonfire he’d dragged me to his senior year flashed before my eyes, but I couldn’t get into that with him right then.

  “I have plenty of examples.” I stood firm on my decision of hell no. “None of which I have time to name off right now.”

  I turned to bolt away from the temptation of him and the bike as fast as I could while he called out after me. “Laney, wait. We can take the car if it bothers you so much. But I really think you’d like it if you’d just give it a chance!”

  My heels clacked along t
he concrete with panicked determination as I fled toward the light. I bolted through the nearest opening of the garage out onto the busy sidewalks and up the block before stopping to try and flag down a cab. I figured the further away I was from Oliver, the less likely he would be to come running after me.

  Of course, the moment I was climbing into the backseat of the first taxi to stop for me, my phone dinged. I dug it out of my purse and swiped to see the message from Oliver.

  Oliver: One of these days, I’m going to get you to take a walk on the wild side with me.

  Oliver: Chicken emoji.

  I rolled my eyes and tossed the phone back in my bag with a vengeance. Sinking against the backseat, momentarily ignoring how greasy and unsanitary it was, I began to wonder if staying with Oliver was such a good idea. I had made my peace with our friendship never being anything more, but was I really prepared to see him in nothing but his boxers in the mornings? Especially if he was going to be casually tossing around invitations to “take a walk on the wild side” with him—all completely innocent to him, but with a whole different, much more suggestive meaning for me.

  I started rolling words around in my head, rehearsing how I might begin to explain to him that he and I weren’t the same, and he just wasn’t going to understand it. He could afford to go out and have fun and take risks and “walk on the wild side.” Because in the end, he would always be Oliver Humphries—the most popular guy in school turned one of the most desirable men in New York City. He had the safety net of his good looks and perfect body and family’s money—always ready to catch him if he fell. I wasn’t so lucky.

  As much as a huge part of me wanted to climb on the back of that bike with Oliver, feel my body pressed against his, the wind in my face, I couldn’t. My thoughts painfully drifted back to the many bullies of my childhood. What they’d said had scarred me, although I was much more self-assured now. With Oliver, though, it was different. Those niggling doubts crept into my mind like a punch to the gut. I couldn’t help nor stop that small insecure part of me from wondering about the what-ifs.

  Would Oliver feel too many curves or my soft belly against his back, or worse, what if he thought, “Oh, my God, why’s this motorcycle not speeding up? This girl behind me is slowing me down!” I knew I couldn’t suffer that kind of humiliation.

  My heart sank in my chest as another thought occurred to me. But most of all, I knew I couldn’t possibly handle the closeness or making another memory of having Oliver feeling so wonderful, and that memory messing with my mind days on end. I couldn’t bear it. Any of it.

  I shook my head to rid myself of those thoughts. No. I was actually far from lucky, thanks to the fire that destroyed everything I owned, and the harsh reality became far too clear as the cab pulled up in front of the black, scorned appearance of my building.

  “Can you wait here a moment?” I asked the driver, while I stood in shock, staring at what would take at the very least, several months to renovate. The outside seemed to be mostly intact, but from all the blown-out windows, I could see the remnants of what used to be beautiful apartments.

  5

  Laney

  “Damn!” The cab driver whistled, surveying the damage from the driver’s seat. “What the hell happened here?”

  “A sweet little Pomeranian,” I murmured in a daze. I supposed seeing it was what I needed to get some kind of closure, but it didn’t make things any easier. And no sooner than I’d said “Pomeranian” did Mrs. Mosely walk by with Princess Bubbles, likely to assess the damage as well.

  “Oh, Elaine, dear. How are you holding up? I’m so glad you weren’t here when the fire”—She paused and picked up Princess Bubbles—“when poor little Shnookums here knocked over that candle. Just look at her. She’s still shivering from fright.”

  She’d sort of caught me off guard. “Mrs. Mosely. It’s, well… I’m in shock, really.” I scratched behind Princess Bubbles’ ears. “What are you doing here?” It was then that I remembered in my fog-filled haze that she didn’t drive. How had she gotten here?

  “Those candles. I’m not sure how my poor baby was able to flip them over.” She waved her free hand in dismissal. “Oh, well. Nothing’s quality anymore. When I was young…”

  Wait, was Mrs. Mosely blaming the candle manufacturer for the fire? I just tilted my head, blinked, and nodded. And then, she went on to finally answer my question… I couldn’t even speak. I had nothing.

  “My man friend”—She glanced around covertly, speaking in a hushed voice—“he only lives the next block over. Now, you can’t tell anyone I’m staying there, darling. My niece Cindy would have an early heart attack.” She smiled and I nearly choked back a laugh. Oh, my God. I hoped she wasn’t about to go into detail about her sex life. She had to be pushing seventy-five or eighty.

  It reminded me of the time when my grandfather was still alive, and my grandmother had called to ask me what kind of lube would work best during sex. I’d nearly dropped dead on the phone. She had assumed I wasn’t a virgin, and with us being so close, she’d thought it was the most normal thing in the world to call me. Because, why not? Needless to say, that had been an awkward conversation. My mother’s side of the family was hilarious.

  I made a zipping motion across my lips, hoping my amusement-slash-mortification wasn’t clearly written on my face. “Your secret’s safe with me. But where did you tell her you were staying?”

  Princess Bubbles barked. “Hush that.” Mrs. Mosely stroked her fur. “I simply told her that all the residents were afforded a temporary home until our building was restored. It’s plausible enough, as that’s what my homeowner’s insurance company would likely do.” I nodded along, smiling, still trying to bleach my brain of all the images that had inadvertently been shoved there. “Cindy lives over an hour away, so it’s not as if she will check up on me.”

  I leaned over and pecked a kiss on Princess Bubbles’ head. “It was nice seeing you, Mrs. Mosely, and it’s wonderful you found a…place to stay. But I need to speak to Mr. Cruz.”

  “Oh, yes. He’s a fine-looking gentleman.” She winked, and I had to keep my jaw from dropping. Who was this woman, and what had she done with Mrs. Mosely?

  “Oh, before you go. Where are you going to live, young lady?” She gave me a conspiratorial grin. I seriously needed to run. Mrs. Mosley had never been this inquisitive before. Had she inhaled too many fumes? Maybe it was smoke inhalation, or had she always been this way? God help me. “Um, at a friend’s place.”

  She lifted a perfectly arched gray eyebrow. “Of the male variety, dear? We ladies need to keep each other up to snuff on all the details.”

  Yup. I was going to die. And no, I was so not sharing that little tidbit of information. “My best friend’s place.” I reached over and hugged her, effectively ending the conversation and waving my goodbyes.

  The rest of the afternoon went by in a blur as I checked in with Mr. Cruz, who’d said his insurance company anticipated to have an inspector there within the week to assess the damage, in order to give us an exact time frame for renovations from start to finish. According to Mr. Cruz, though, he estimated the apartment itself would likely take a couple of months to be restored. Next on the agenda: I had an appointment with my rental insurance agent (I didn’t own my apartment like Mrs. Mosely, so it was different). Thankfully, I could expect a reimbursement check for what my policy covered, which was mostly my personal belongings (that I had to back up on my initial list after I’d created the policy two years ago—a pain in my ass) within the next couple of weeks.

  After leaving the insurance company and stopping by the drug store to get a few basic necessities, I strolled aimlessly down the street, stopping to treat myself to a chocolate ice cream cone. I’d eaten a grilled chicken salad for lunch. So, why not? I’d had a hell of a night. Lost everything. What woman didn’t deserve a little splurge once in a while?

  I marveled at each construction site I passed, thinking to myself how crazy it was that everything always
seemed to go up so fast. An empty lot one day—a high-rise seemingly the next. But it didn’t feel as quick when it was your own residence being rebuilt (or renovated in my case—semantics), and you were at the mercy of a ridiculously hot roommate you were secretly in love with until it was finished. That sneak peek he’d given me this morning in his tight-fitting boxers—damn. It was more than hot. I’d often wondered what Oliver’s schlong looked like. Rocketship? Skyscraper? Crown Jewels? Wait, I think that’s balls, but what do I know? There had to be another name for a it, because who said penis and thought it was sexy? Not me! Hell, I fantasized about it, if I were being honest (name of my now-melted-vibrator: clue number one—Rest in Peace, old friend). Would the tip of it look like a mushroom as I’d read about? Okay, I’d seen a few online… Sue me. I’d been curious because Lisa had mentioned mushroom tips, and it sounded strange, until I’d actually seen one. Oh, and how could I forget? The infamous popsicle pic. That didn’t count, according to Lisa. It was tiny. Hell, I didn’t know. Then, I understood. Hmm… How big was Oliver’s ice cream cone? Battleship? Was it long and thick? I’d secretly wondered—and not once—what it would feel like inside of me. Holy hell, I’d need a fan soon if I didn’t stop my naughty thoughts.

  I didn’t know if it was the fresh spring air, filled with fragrant blooms drifting in from the nearby park, or the endorphins releasing in my brain from my frozen treat, but something put me in the mood to suck it up and use what happened as an opportunity to start over. I’d been needing a day off for a while, even if the circumstances for it finally happening were far from ideal.

  And I had a whole new wardrobe to shop for. What girl didn’t want an excuse to spend the afternoon shopping?

  A plus-size girl. That’s who.

  I walked into a nearby boutique with optimistic confidence, but quickly found myself sinking into the reminder that most stores weren’t made for girls like me. If you were my size in New York.