For a second there, with our hands locked together, we stare in each other’s eyes. And there is no doubt an attraction between us. Kenneth. As if his name is like an electrical shock, I pull back. Pasting on a smile to disguise me letting go, I move to his desk, taking liberties by finding something to write my number down. When I turn around, he’s staring at me so hard, a blush takes over my face. I hold out the paper and pen.
He writes and we split the scrap of paper in half.
“Thank you. For everything, from the rescue to this. I sincerely appreciate it.” My hand rests over my heart, and he dips his head in acknowledgment. He hands me the key fob, and his touch is warm and inviting. I can’t ignore the shiver it sends down my spine, but I won’t look back when I leave. He is off limits.
The only thing wrong with this whole scenario is for the remainder of the day, every time I blink, close my eyes, or when my mind drifts, that sexy ink god fills the space inside my head. Now what am I supposed to do?
Two
BRANDON
Distracted from Jenna’s presence earlier, I sit at my desk trying to do paperwork to clear my head. When I finally notice the time on my screen, I realize it’s an hour after closing. Things have been slow today, giving me the chance to catch up on a few things. In fact, the whole week has been slow. So, why did I give Jenna a free alignment?
You know why, I tell myself. She is the first woman in a while to stir your appetite.
Just as I get up from my desk, Dana pokes her head in.
“You up to hanging out tonight?”
Her question isn’t as casual as it sounds. And up means other things.
“Not tonight.”
Questioning brows rise, and she steps further into the office so she can close the door behind her.
“Why not?” she pouts.
“I have plans.”
Irritation grows on her face.
“With who?”
And this is why I shouldn’t have mixed business with hookups.
“That’s really none of your business.”
She moves closer, her eyes never leaving mine.
“Not with that townie princess from earlier?”
Townie princess, an apt description of Jenna Rhoades. She said she had to get to work, but she looked very much like a girl who only worked voluntarily. So, why in the hell did I take her up on her offer of dinner?
“Like I said, Dana, that’s not your business. I’ve never lied to you, and I don’t want to start now. Just let it go.”
“Out of all the women that come here to flirt with you, you pick her,” she grits out, not leaving it be. “She’s not your type. Oh, I’m sure she’ll fuck you, but she’ll never introduce you to Daddy. You saw her car. You know damn well she has a daddy pulling her strings. Maybe even a sugar daddy.”
Pinching my temples, I know she’s right in some respects. A woman like Jenna Rhoades is so far out of my league. Could I be happy with just screwing her, assuming she’d give me that chance?
“Dana,” I start.
Her hand snakes out so fast and grabs ahold of my cock. Not wanting to hurt her, I can only grip her wrist to try to gently pry her loose.
Her eyes are full of fire and promise. “Besides, you and me both know that I’m the only one that can handle all of you.”
We glare at each other because she’s right in a lot of respects. Women come easily to me, yet when things get down to it, a lot walk away, even run with fear in their eyes, and excuses rushing from their lips. Dana hasn’t been one of those women.
When my dick doesn’t stir, she jerks her hand free. Annoyance mutates into hurt, and she spins on her heels, leaving the room before any more words can be exchanged.
Out in the hall, I hear her make an offer to my other full-time mechanic, Jeff. “Do you want to hang tonight?”
If she thinks she’s making me jealous, she’s mistaken. Our few times together are infrequent and spontaneous, usually after several drinks on my part. She seems to know when I have an itch, and she’s always willing to scratch it. She’s been cool with that. And that’s all there is between us. I don’t like that she’s becoming possessive. I don’t like that she reads me well. I have an itch now, but it doesn’t have her name on it.
I reach for the door she’d closed behind her in a huff, and Jeff’s looming there with a hand outstretched. He drops it when I swing the door open.
“You hanging tonight?”
I shake my head. “Plans.”
He nods. “You don’t mind if me and Dana…”
My response is quick and before he can finish his statement.
“No. Go right ahead. I’m not in it. You’re both free to do what you want.”
We knock fists because I don’t have to explain more. He gets it and leaves. I turn off lights as I go and lock up for the night before driving my Harley home. I pull up and stare at my place for a second. I’d worked my ass off to buy it. It’s a decent house in a decent neighborhood. A ranch I can call my own. It’s a reminder that even though I didn’t go to college, I’ve made something of myself.
Walking inside, I toss my keys into a bowl near the door to commingle with my little brother’s.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, wondering for the millionth time why I’d given him keys.
At seventeen, he stands in the kitchen almost taller than me and tries for the picture of innocence, but can’t manage it. The laugh bursts through him, and I have to shake my head.
“You were safe, right?”
He nods. It isn’t the first time he’d used my house as a hookup spot. And maybe that’s why I gave him keys so that I can play the role our absent father should have. Mom would freak the fuck out if she ever caught him with a girl in her house. I know, because it happened to me when I still lived at home.
“Dude, she was loud.”
I glance around. “She’s not here, is she?”
He’s still young enough not to know better than to say shit within earshot of her.
“No, she’s gone. And it’s a good thing. I thought for sure your neighbors would call the cops the way she screamed. And my luck, it’d be her dad to show up with his badge, and I would be so fucked.”
Glaring at him brings no shame to him. His grin only grows wider. Then I recall that I hadn’t seen the truck I’d given him out front. “She drove you here?”
“Yeah.” He says it like that’s obvious. “Can you give me a ride back to the school?”
I sigh, but he knows I’ll do anything for him. These days, I can’t tell who spoils him more, Mom or me.
“Give me ten minutes. I have to get cleaned up.”
He salutes me before flopping on the sofa and grabbing the remote.
While showering, I spend more time than usual cleaning the grime from under my nails. The place I’m meeting Jenna is in a trendy part of downtown I don’t normally frequent.
Digging in my closet for a pair of pants that aren’t jeans, I also find a button-down shirt to wear. Hell, I went all out and shaved. I hardly recognize myself when I’m done. Unconsciously, I find myself rolling up the sleeves, revealing my tats. I almost stop myself, but she needs to know who I am, or maybe I’m the one that does.
When I step out twenty or so minutes later, my brother doesn’t give me shit about underestimating my time. Instead, he blows out a long whistle.
“Who are you going out with?”
He knows me well. I only dress like this when Mom drags us to church, which isn’t often anymore now that I don’t live with her.
“Did I ask you any questions?”
From his perch on the sofa, he frowns and pats my arm like I’m the errant child. “You’re uptight. I get it. You need to get laid.”
I give him what I think is a fatherly look. “You don’t get it, but you will.”
“What? Have you decided to bang one of those rich chicks that comes into your shop and says, Oh, Brandon, can you check under my hood?”
I try hard n
ot to laugh, but it’s too comical the way he’s blinking his eyes at me after doing his best impression of a breathy woman.
“Come on, kid. You are way too young to be thinking like this.”
Ruffling his hair, I sling an arm around him, still shaking my head.
“I’m not young. I’m almost eighteen, and I’m going to college next year,” he says petulantly. “By the way, can I throw a party at your house next weekend?”
Continuing to shake my head, I avoid answering his question because no matter how I say no, he’ll no doubt talk me into it.
After I drop him off, I wait like a concerned parent, watching him start his truck and pull out of the lot before I leave myself. My brother is the best of me. Seeing him grow up and get accepted into college makes me feel like everything I sacrificed is worth it.
However, the side trip costs me time, as traffic is jammed. I’ll be late meeting Jenna. Frustration has me coiled tight. First impressions are everything, especially to a woman like her.
I am late. Five minutes to be precise, but she hasn’t arrived either. Checking my ego, I don’t allow doubt that she’ll not show up to creep in my mind. She doesn’t seem like that type of woman. Why invite me in the first place? I’ve just taken a seat when I see her hurriedly come in. The hostess points toward my table, and she strides over with a worried expression. I get to my feet as she makes apologies before leaning in. For a second, I lose my ability to breathe thinking she might kiss me. And what the fuck is that? Only it’s air on either of my cheeks that gets her greeting.
“I’m sorry I’m late,” she says, slightly flushed as if she’d run to try to make it on time.
“No problem. I just got here.”
We pull apart and it’s as if she feels it, too. Her cheeks grow more color and I stand there enjoying the view. She’s fucking gorgeous wearing a dress that could stop any man dead in his tracks. When she had been at my shop earlier, I hadn’t had a chance to fully appreciate how it clung to curves that made my mouth water. And I’m not the only one. When the waiter walks up to our table, he can’t take his eyes off her.
I position myself behind her chair, not letting him do the honors for her. She smiles at both of us, her face brightening even more red. She seems slightly uncomfortable with the attention. But she has to know how gorgeous she is. She sits and I scoot her in before taking a seat opposite her. I can’t stop staring at her eyes. They are bright, not gloomy gray, glittering like stardust, or maybe that’s fairy dust in a midnight sky. I feel like Peter Pan smitten with the girl. And smitten? Who says that, and is that what I am? In fact, who the fuck am I around this woman?
She lifts her menu as the waiter rattles off the specials. Listening is the furthest from my mind as I admire the beauty before me. When she glances up catching me, I raise my menu.
Fuck. Everything is in French, and I’d taken Spanish in high school. Not that I remember any of that either.
“I’ll give you both a minute.” The waiter at least glances at me for a second after staring at her.
When he’s gone, she laughs. “Foie gras.”
I take a second and decide what to say. I go with the truth.
“Yeah, I don’t know what that is,” I admit.
“Sorry, and trust me, I don’t know what half this menu says either. Someone recommended the place. I guess I should have googled it.” Her laugh is light, and I don’t feel as stupid. “But I do know that foie gras is duck liver.”
She must notice I’ve turned a little green at the thought and giggles harder. “No worries, not my thing either.”
“Why don’t you choose for me? I’m not that picky.”
“All right,” she says with a teasing note, and I’m left wondering if I should be afraid. “Don’t blame me if you hate it.”
“I doubt there’s anything you could do I’d hate.”
Blatant. I’ve never been one to beat around the bush.
Her eyes hold mine, and in that second I think maybe she’s into me, too.
“I should probably tell you that I have a boyfriend.”
Of course, she does. Well, fuck.
Three
JENNA
This was a bad idea. A very bad idea. Damn those eyes of his, the way they drill into mine. They actually make me shiver all the way to my toes. And how the hell does he do that? No one has ever made me do that, including Kenneth. His shirtsleeves are rolled up just enough to expose his ink, and the tips of my fingers itch to touch it. Screwed—that’s what I am. And it was so sexy when he admitted he didn’t know anything about the menu—all I wanted to do was grab his face and plant a wet kiss on his lips.
But then, I had to be honest and tell the truth. When I dropped the boyfriend bomb, the happy fled from his eyes. And mine went right along with.
“So, why me?” he asks.
“What?”
“Dinner? Why me?”
“To repay your kindness earlier. You didn’t have to do what you did,” I say.
“And you didn’t have to do this.” He flicks his hand, indicating the fancy restaurant. He’s right. I didn’t. So, exactly why did I do it? The truth is, I wanted to get to know him a little more. His compassion touched something in me, and for whatever reason—call it crazy if you want—I want to get to know this man. I decide to take that leap and tell him.
“Not many people would’ve done what you did. And even have gone so far as to not charge me. So I want to get to know you a little better.”
“And that’s it?” He’s very skeptical, as he should be.
Picking up the fork by my hand, I fiddle with it. “I don’t know. I, uh…” I look up from my fiddling fingers to his eyes and decide that’s a mistake because their intensity nearly knocks me out of my chair.
“The thing is, like I told you earlier, my friend’s husband passed away, and I don’t talk much about my boyfriend to her or anyone for that matter.” I realize I’m babbling, but I can’t seem to stop myself. “She moved to D.C., started over. And even though she’s my best friend in the world, I feel like I still can’t even bring up the fact that I’m dating. Not that it’s a big deal. We’re not even close to being serious.”
I clamp my mouth shut because I’m making an idiot of myself. Only, he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, his next words confirm why I wanted to get to know him better.
“So, how long ago did this happen?”
Holy guacamole. Compassion and a good listener. Why do I have to have a boyfriend? Okay, let me get my shit together because he’s totally watching me as I stare at him wide-eyed. I blink.
“Her husband passing or my dating this guy?”
“You dating this guy?” He frowns and says, “That sounded awful, like I’m an unfeeling person. Just let me say his passing must’ve been terrible for all of you.”
Shuddering with the memory of it, I rapidly blink, hoping the waterworks don’t start. What happened today was weird. My emotions are all over the place. I guess my phone conversation with Cate set me off, and I haven’t done that in a while.
A large hand reaches over and covers mine. “You okay?” he asks.
“I’ll be fine. I’m sorry. Really, it’s a little strange for me to be acting this way. Cate moved to get everything that was Charleston out of her head, and at first I thought she was running from someone—a guy who had gotten too close. But now it makes sense. She seems a little better, but still not the same Cate as she used to be. It kills, you know?”
His hand still covers mine, all warm and safe. I like that about him. Kenneth would hand me a handkerchief from his suit coat pocket, and that would be the end of it. Or perhaps he’d pat my shoulder a few times. But I surely wouldn’t feel comforted like this.
“I have to admit, I don’t. Never having lost a close friend like that. It must totally bite. But I get how you must want to hold things back. Sometimes it’s hard to share happy news with people who are suffering.”
“Exactly.” When I say these things to Kenneth
, even though he listens, he doesn’t grasp it like Brandon just did. Kenneth nods and smiles, gives me that little pat, and while it’s sweet and I know he means well, it’s not deep.
Brandon tilts his head and says, “You say that as if those close to you don’t get it, which sucks.”
“No, that’s not it. They get it, but they’re probably tired of hearing me complain. Most people are of the mindset that Cate should be over his death by now and on to living her life. And she’s doing the best she can. She landed an awesome job she loves and has made great friends. She even likes where she’s living. But it’s still half-baked for her.”
“Maybe you need to cut her loose.”
“What?” My voice rises as I ask the question.
“Like a parent does with a child. Let her fly, Jenna. Maybe you’re being too protective.”
Leaning forward, my elbow on the table—which my mother would have a hissy fit over—I think back over the last year and wonder if he’s right. Have I been too overprotective of her? Discouraged her in any way? I’m not too sure.
“No, I think I’ve been the opposite of that. I’ve encouraged her to fly, or at least I believe I have.”
“Maybe you’re the one who needs to let loose then,” he says, his deep voice resonating through the depths of my bones, making my skin hum with expectation. Only there’ll be nothing more than this dinner, because I am loyal and don’t two-time anyone. And I won’t do that to Kenneth.
I arch my brows and feel my mouth curve up, even though I don’t want it to. It’s harder than ever not to flirt with this man. Kind, beautiful, sexy, and everything I shouldn’t want. “What do you mean?”
He laughs. “I think you know exactly what I mean, Jenna.”
The waiter returns with our appetizers, and Brandon reminds me of a pug as he ogles my Escargots de Bourgogne. He appears much more pleased as the waiter places his gougère, which is cheese in a light pastry, before him. The food is delicious.
“Would you like to try one?” I ask as I pull one of the escargots out of the shell. These are one of my favorite delicacies. Their mild taste, combined with the parsley butter and garlic they are baked in, make them sublime.
The Cruel and Beautiful Series Boxset Page 78
