Flawless: (Fearsome Series Book 4)

by S. A. Wolfe

  As I gaze at Talia, not only does her beauty floor me, but her vulnerability makes me want to protect her. I’m never that guy—the knight in shining armor, the savior. Upon seeing her scar and thinking back to all of her kind and hopeful remarks about Adam, I understand why she’s looking for that type of man, and it makes me both jealous and envious of him.

  In another room, I have a few more hushed conversations with Greer and Bash about the closing process. Then I talk to Zander, who assures me that every tap line is functioning perfectly and he’d like to pursue the hot topic of bottling growlers—large jugs of fresh draft beer that customers can take home with them. It’s another legal can of worms I have no interest in thinking about at this moment when I have this woman in the next room.

  Without a doubt, I’ll call it a first that I’m not racing back to the bar to sit with the others for a drink and go over the numbers and production for the evening in my usual, obsessive way. Unlike New York City, being in a laid-back, little town that prides itself on taking it slow even when you’re opening a new business makes it that much easier for me to push my business duties to the next day. And I can’t walk out the door when I have my own real-life Sleeping Beauty crashing on my couch.

  I walk back to the living room and hesitate at the threshold. From here I can see Talia is sleeping peacefully. What am I doing?

  Focus. Work.

  I can’t stare at her all night. This is not who I am.

  For all those months I slept with Flora, not once did I watch her sleep. I was too tired from our waking hours together to waste my sleeping hours admiring her beauty. We were a volatile pair and spent more time in disagreement than in bed. The two states of our relationship were verbal sparring and sex.

  Flora is conventional. She wants the high-powered career, and after making partnership, she’ll buy her way into marriage and family. Not that she’ll settle for any guy, but she won’t dillydally with indecisive men or those like me—guys who aren’t interested in settling down with mortgages and babies. For all her beauty and sex appeal, not once did Flora bring me to my knees. Not that I’m a great catch.

  But this woman who regularly butchers the English language is opening a hole in my chest. Something that started as a pinhole is now a gaping wound the size of a basketball. I’ve opened myself up to her without trying, and somehow, I need to shove the genie back in the bottle.

  Between tonight’s event and bringing Talia home, I’m too wired to sleep, so I go down to my room and change into jeans and a T-shirt, then grab my laptop and head back to the living room. Talia hasn’t moved.

  I plant myself in the big, upholstered chair next to the couch and begin reviewing the financials that Greer is posting to the restaurant spreadsheets. The opening day numbers are excellent. Overall, the night would have been perfect if I hadn’t had that public tiff with Flora. But she likes to make a grand entrance and an even grander exit. This way she got to make sure everyone noticed her, and they did.

  I push Flora and work out of my mind when I look up from my laptop and see Talia sprawled in front of me.

  When I run through the list of women I’ve been with, which isn’t a huge number by any means, they all fit a certain mold physically—tall, with dark hair and dark eyes. I didn’t see my own pattern until I found myself fantasizing about Talia’s blonde hair wrapped in my fists, envisioning her creamy-toned flesh turning flush when she climaxes, and her petite stature that has enough curves to fill my palms as I grip her in various positions while I take her from behind. Sure, she’s definitely my type when my thoughts about her go all X-rated and give me an unbearable hard-on.

  And then there’s the unexpected chemistry. I’m not talking about the desire to have a good fuck. That kind of chemistry can happen with hundreds of women, whether I’m under the influence or not. Basic animal urges don’t count; as humans, we can replace one sexual partner for another if the primary goal is sex and fulfilling a physical need. It doesn’t mean I’ve slept around with scores of women lined up at my door. No, I’ve been a serial monogamist, staying with one woman for a few months before the sex cravings run out on my part. And sometimes I would make life simple by avoiding sex with women altogether. Naturally, there are health risks involved with abstinence, such as severe carpal tunnel.

  I’ve admitted noticing Talia, but I never expected to feel this way, to have this longing where I need to be around her and wonder where she is at every waking moment.

  The discovery of her scar speaks volumes about a woman who everyone in this little town thought they knew. Maybe I should feel guilty for having some insights into something she’s been trying to hide, but I don’t. I feel oddly proud and entitled. Something deeper inside makes me believe I have a right to know what happened to her and a right, more like a duty, to help her deal with it.

  There’s really no comparison between the two women, and Flora would fucking kick me to the curb if she knew any of this, but I do have to ask myself why I couldn’t feel the same way about Flora. They have universal goals, but Talia and Flora are so very different. They both want the same things in terms of career success and a solid relationship, and family is important to both of them. But Talia is a giver, while Flora succeeds at taking. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a good person, but there’s no way in hell she’d live with an agoraphobic mother, and she’d never worry about an aging neighbor who lives alone, or a younger sister who depends on her.

  Talia takes care of people; she thrives on it. It explains why she’s so disciplined and can run her own business, even if it won’t make her rich. It allows her to help others, and I admire her for a virtuous trait that I don’t have. I’m more like Flora—taking what I can get from others.

  As the youngest in my family, I got the easy way out too many times. When my mother was dying of cancer, I was there for emotional support, but Cooper and Greer shouldered the burden, handling her round-the-clock nursing care and settling her estate. I loved my mother more than anyone, including my father, but I was really only good for hand-holding. While Cooper and Greer and my brothers, Evan and Neil, were dealing with the tough shit, I used the time to run the family bars and meet with prospective investors for future projects.

  I’ve always been a bit of a selfish bastard, and it’s only recently, being around Talia, that I’ve been rather ashamed of my arrogance. Little did I know she would become part of my daily routine; that I’d look forward to seeing her walk through the doors at Swill in the morning, having our first conversation of each day, whether it’s kind or sarcastic; watching her cook when she doesn’t realize I’m there; or simply hearing and seeing her throughout the day. Every day. She has become an elixir, illuminating another side to me that was never apparent.

  Whatever I’m feeling has to get shut down real fast. I have to keep my eyes on the prize—everything I’ve been working toward, the career I want more than anything, more than any woman. And Talia deserves better than someone as selfish as me.

  • • •

  The stiffness in my legs wakes me, and when I open my eyes, I’m still slouched in the chair with my outstretched legs resting on the couch where Talia is still sound asleep. I glance at my phone and realize I’ve been asleep for six hours with my legs crossed at the ankles and my hands clenching the sides of the armchair.

  The glorious, vivid dream I was having is beginning to fade. I try to grasp the last remnants of it before it’s gone for good.

  Talia was kissing me and running her hands down my back. We were in my bed, so perfect. Then that awesome image was interrupted by Greer walking into the room, disgruntled about numbers she had to discuss with me. Suddenly, Zander appeared in his gray, industrial jumpsuit, stinking of beer and trying to talk to me about the fucking tap lines again. Yeah, the dream was really good and starting to get hot and heavy before all the work shit came crashing into it.

  I pull my legs off the couch, stand, and stretch, arching as far as I can to work out the kinks.

  A sof
t intake of breath takes me out of the moment, and I look down to see Talia watching me.

  She looks down at her fully clothed body, then back at me.

  “We didn’t sleep together,” she says matter-of-factly.

  “No.”

  “I remember all the beers being passed around, but I was mostly sipping. I don’t feel hungover.”

  “It went right to your head. I didn’t mind. I got to carry you to bed.”

  “You mean the couch. You didn’t carry me. I remember asking to stay in your guest room. Why did you put me here?”

  I sit back down and lean forward to get closer to her. “That would be pushing a boundary I’m not comfortable with. You weren’t drunk, but you didn’t have full control … I wanted you to be comfortable …”

  “Oh, you were afraid to put me in the bed. Afraid of how it would look to me.”

  “This is new territory for me—bringing a woman home. And it isn’t about jumping into bed.”

  “I asked you to put me in a bed because I know you have an extra one. I wouldn’t have asked you if I thought you’d take advantage of me while I was sleeping.” She sighs. “Your concern is sweet. And being called sweet must make you uncomfortable.”

  “Not at all,” I say unconvincingly, and she laughs.

  “Can I ask you a question? Something that’s been bothering me.”

  “I suppose it’s going to make me look bad, but sure. Ask away.”

  “I’d like to know more about why you would let Flora get away. Why do men do that?”

  “Christ, Flora again.”

  A slight tilt of the head and raised eyebrows. She expects me to explain something I really can’t, not if I want to retain the perception of my humanity. It’s also my only leverage for information. She wants to know why, and I want to know what.

  “Okay, sure. I’ll tell you my story if you tell me yours.”

  “I don’t have a story. You know the dull details about my life. I live with my recluse mother. Nothing else to tell.”

  “I don’t think so. That scar on your chest is pretty fresh.”

  She immediately puts her hands to the front of her blouse, checking to make sure her scar is covered. “How did you know?”

  “Last night you were tangled in your sweater. I was adjusting your clothes so you wouldn’t strangle yourself. I straightened your blouse, and I saw the scar. You had surgery recently, didn’t you?”

  She hesitates, then nods slowly. “I did. Only my mother and sister know—and Norma. My father knew about the surgery, but he chose not to be here, so I don’t count him. I wanted to keep it a secret from everyone else, at least for a while. Now that I’m completely sober, tell me about Flora, and then I’ll tell you about my scar.”

  “Why do you care so much about Flora?”

  “I don’t. I’m trying to work some things out. I’m trying to understand why men do what they do. I think you can give me some perspective on them. You broke up with a very successful woman, who’s gorgeous, like out-of-this-world, stunningly gorgeous.”

  I shrug. “Sometimes that’s not enough.”

  “I’d like to understand why, because if she’s not enough for a man, then how does a woman like me stand a chance?”

  “With me?” I ask, surprised.

  “With any man,” she replies, each word clipped as if she can’t believe the audacity of my question. “There had to be something specific that would break you two up. The woman is an attorney, so I know she has a brain. And when she walks into a room, she owns it. My God, every man in the restaurant was looking at her last night. No, itch that. Every person in that restaurant was looking at her. Why does a man reject a woman like Flora?”

  I start laughing, and her mouth tightens into a narrow line.

  “Now what?” she snaps.

  “Sorry. You said, ‘Itch that.’ It’s scratch that.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. So, what happened? Why can’t you fall in love with a woman like Flora and be with her forever? Why did you have to end it? And why did she look so angry at you?”

  I laugh. “She’s been pissed at me since the day we met. It never stopped us from having fun.”

  “Stop laughing. Why are guys always so nonchalant about their exes? And they laugh them off as if they were the problem? That can’t be the whole story.”

  “Look, it’s pretty simple. We hired a law firm to handle compliance for us, and they sent Flora. We hooked up, and next thing I knew, I was her boyfriend. We were strictly professional when she came by one of the restaurants or if we had meetings at her firm. We were kind of an after-hours-only couple.”

  “And …?”

  “Jesus, you’re pushy. What do you expect to learn from me?”

  “Why men do what they do. Why they fall for you, then drop you.”

  “Hey, I didn’t drop Flora. It was mutual. Flora has always known what she wanted. First her career, then a family, then she’ll conquer something else. She’s one of those people who likes having a lot of balls in the air.”

  “So you were one of the balls?”

  “I’ve got two, thank you.”

  “But your balls weren’t enough for her?”

  “You’re something.” There’s no way to make her or anyone sympathetic to my side of this story. “Flora has always been very clear about what she wants, and I told her I wasn’t interested in settling down anytime soon. Hell, I wasn’t really in the mood for a girlfriend. Not a high-maintenance woman like Flora anyway. But that didn’t stop her. After we slept together, she carried on as if we were already a couple, and I didn’t really try to stop her. I was busy running two restaurants and was in the middle of blueprints and raising capital for Swill. I figured, who am I to shit on her dreams? Let her fantasize about the multimillion dollar condo or brownstone she’ll buy for her future family. She’s the type who, if she could, would control the sex and hair color of her children. Honestly, I didn’t give it a thought. I loved being at my restaurants, and when I was with Flora, the sex was great. That was enough for me.”

  “You’re making yourself sound awful. I hope this story has a good ending.”

  “It does have a good ending. Flora doesn’t have to keep trying to make me into something I’m not. She’ll be happier with someone else.”

  “I still feel bad for her. She’s trying to do what many women are trying to do. It’s hard to find the right person you want to have children with, and then hope you can have a long, happy marriage. Then she figures out she was being used for sex.”

  “Hold on,” I say harshly. “I didn’t force her to stay, and I never once said or implied that we had a permanent thing going on.”

  “You slept with her for years!”

  “Years? It was nine months, tops. And remember, we called this whole thing off before I moved here. Give me some credit.”

  “You should have stopped it from the beginning, but I think you were drunk on sex. You like having women like Flora available for when you need it.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I was raised by a man like you. They can only do the family thing for so long, and then they need to roam. They have wandering balls.”

  I burst out laughing. “You mean wandering eyes?”

  “I think it’s balls, because they end up in other women’s beds.”

  “So I’m not allowed to have sex with a woman unless I’m willing to marry her?”

  “Don’t be silly. But you took it too far with Flora. You knew what she wanted.”

  “And she knew what I wanted. Don’t make me out to be some evil guy. Flora liked having me at all of her corporate parties and benefit dinners. And she had her moments, plenty of days and nights when she wanted to be alone. I spent time with her because I liked her. She’s intelligent, funny, and extremely emotional and loud, like the rest of her family. Sometimes it was a blast, and sometimes it wasn’t.”

  “Did you love her?”

  “No.” I clasp my ha
nds together and look down at the floor. “Maybe I thought if I stuck it out, I’d fall in love with her. Isn’t that how it works?”

  “But you never did.” She huffs out a breath, sending a few wisps of hair floating up, then down.

  “No. And Flora always knew it. It’s not like her world would end without me. She was destined to find someone better suited to her. She was there last night as a friend to wish me well. I told you this.”

  “I know, but it didn’t look like a friendly visit. Did she really wish you well?”

  “Yeah, she did.”

  Talia studies me, and I use the opportunity to get up from the chair and stretch again. She keeps looking me over from head to toe, and a little grin blooms across her face.

  “What are you looking at?” I smile because I’m good at this kind of flirty game.

  I push her legs over and sit down on the couch next to her.

  She shakes her head. “I know what your problem is.”

  “Christ, here we go again.”

  “Your problem is you’re not serious about women. Flora was probably your first grown-up woman, and you couldn’t handle what she wanted, what most people want.”

  “Ah, you’ve been coached by my sister.”

  “No, I came up with it on my own. You can sit here and think about that while I go freshen up. I assume I can use the guest bathroom,” she says as she stands up. “I used to work here before Carson finished his new house.”

  “Of course. Towels are clean. No one has used that bathroom ever, and your sister keeps cleaning it.”

  “Thank you. You’re an excellent host. And I see my sister is keeping this place in great shape.”

  “I only sleep here. She’s basically cleaning the clean. No time for dust mites to move in on her watch.”

  Talia smiles and saunters off to the bathroom with an extra sway in her hips.