Bad Romance

by Jen McLaughlin

  “You know what?” She picked up her hat and jammed it on her head. “Enjoy your donut. I hope you choke on it.”

  I choked again, but it wasn’t on the donut.

  It was her words, and the laugh she’d caused.

  The brat had made me laugh again. I bit it back almost instantly, but she must’ve heard it. And maybe it made her realize how foolish we sounded, poking at one another as if we were still fifteen and eighteen years old, because she laughed, too.

  She covered her mouth, her eyes wide. “Oh, my God.”

  “I heard you,” I teased, grinning. A strand of hair had fallen in front of her nose when she’d put her hat on, so I tucked it back. “It’s too late to take it back.”

  She swallowed hard. “I heard you, too.”

  We eyed one another quietly, as if we’d shared something filthy, instead of a laugh. And somehow it felt as if we had. The tension between us—the tension that was way too damn thick to be one-sided—urged me closer. Before I’d fully thought it through, I took a step toward her. Slowly, she moved her foot forward, too.

  For a second, a dirty-as-hell second, I thought about it.

  Thought about following through and kissing her again.

  Damn, I wanted to close the distance between us so badly. I wanted to taste her lips and see if she still tasted as sweet as she smelled, because I was one hundred percent certain she would. Wanted to see if her pure-and-shiny soul could brighten my blemished one with a simple kiss, even though I knew it wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

  It would be so easy to find out. I knew she wanted me to kiss her, and if I had any doubts she might have been flirting with me, they faded away. She had been. And she would do it again. I could see it written across her face. She’d always been easy to read.

  It was her biggest weakness.

  Mine was her. The way she made me feel.

  I cradled her soft cheek with one hand, not daring to move anything else. If I did, I might lose control. And I couldn’t afford to do that. “Lilly…”

  She lifted on her tiptoes, as if she wanted me to kiss her, and I shook my head once. It took more self-control than I thought to back away. If she looked at me like that two nights ago, when I was drunk, she would have gotten a different response.

  But she hadn’t.

  So I stepped back.

  She seemed disappointed for a second, but she shook it off. “Just…think about it. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  I could seduce her again, break her heart again, and rip her family apart….

  Again.

  Okay, so maybe my mother would never throw me a welcome-home-prodigal-son party when I finally told her I was home, and Lilly’s father, good ol’ Walt, washed his hands of me when I kissed his precious daughter, thereby putting an end to his plans to groom me as his heir apparent.

  But I didn’t want to rip her family apart.

  She obviously loved them both.

  “Please? For me?” she asked. “I live at 5 James Place.”

  Hearing her ask me all sweetly like that, all innocence and kindness, made it hard to say no. I got that annoying softness feeling again, creeping up my spine, and it wouldn’t let go. It was as if I were eighteen all over again, the phantom smell of freshly baked cookies tickling my nose. Surely I could keep my shit together and live with her, like she wanted. Surely I could keep my hands to myself….

  Doc had told me to let her in. To give her a chance to see the real me. Maybe I could try it. “I don’t know.” I shoved my hands through my hair. “Thanks for the coffee, and the donut. I’ll…I’ll think about it.”

  She swallowed hard, nodded, and picked up her sunglasses. Head held high, she walked out of the motel room, but froze at the door. “I think, if you let us, we could be friends, like we were before. I think we still have a lot more in common than you might think. Give me a chance to show you.”

  The door closed behind her, leaving me alone once more. And, God help me, I wanted to believe her. I couldn’t help but feel this was some sort of test. A purgatory for me, to make up for all my past sins. To prove I was a changed man. One who could look temptation in the eye and walk away.

  But I knew life, and I knew me.

  And I knew I wouldn’t be that man.

  Chapter 6

  Lilly

  Later that night, after a long day of monotonous interning at Daddy’s office, and him barking orders at me all afternoon, I pulled up to my townhome and parked in the driveway. I’d planned to go dancing tonight. To be rebellious again. To have fun. But being rebellious was exhausting, and I was tired.

  So I came home, expecting to find it empty, like always.

  Instead, I found a black truck parked in the driveway.

  It had an army sticker in the window, but even if it hadn’t, it wouldn’t take rocket science to figure out whose it was. Jackson had moved in.

  He’d actually done it.

  My heart rate increased, taking off faster than a jet on a runway. After our conversation and the kind of, sort of, fight earlier today, I wasn’t so sure he would accept my offer. But he had. He was here. This was our second chance.

  Taking a deep breath, I shook my hands out, rolled my shoulders, and exited my car. The moon shone off the hood of his truck, and stars lit up the sky. In the distance, I swore I could just barely make out the lights of never-resting Washington, D.C.

  The brick townhome with huge bay windows and white siding was as familiar to me as the moon was, as were the cicadas singing in the darkness, and yet the nerves bunching in my stomach were brand-new. It was hot and muggy out, but I knew inside it would be even hotter—because Jackson Worthington was waiting for me.

  In our home. Alone.

  Opening the door, I set my purse and keys on the table directly to the side of the door. Familiar light yellow walls and wooden floors greeted me, but the boxes at the bottom of the stairs weren’t familiar. Nor was the big TV resting against the wall. “Jackson?”

  “Yeah, out here. In the kitchen.”

  I followed his voice. “I see you decided to move in. Good. This will give us a chance to really get to—” Know each other. That was what I’d been about to say.

  But I rounded the corner, and the words shriveled up and died a horrible death inside my mouth. Because there, standing in front of the fridge, holding a beer, was a shirtless, sweaty, extremely hot Jackson. He had on a pair of tight jeans, and all I could do was drool over the spot right above the button of his fly, where the happy trail led a torturous path below his waistline. God, I’d never wanted to follow an established path more than I did right here. Right now.

  With my tongue. My hands. Anything.

  His whole face sparkled with…life…and his hair stuck up in places as if he’d been dragging his hands through it all night long. He bit down on his tongue and smiled in a sexy way that made my insides turn into jelly. “I like your shirt.”

  “I. Uh. I—” Crap. No. I could do this. Keep my cool. Act as if I weren’t being eaten alive with forbidden lust. I glanced down at my shirt that said Keep Calm and Let It Go on it. Wait. He’d seen Frozen? Had he been like those military guys in the video that had gone viral, singing along to Idina Menzel in their barracks? “I mean, yeah. Thanks.”

  “Sure thing.” He lifted his Heineken to his mouth and took a swig. I couldn’t look away from his Adam’s apple as it bobbed, or from his hard, uneven jawline. It was better than staring blatantly at his happy trail, though. “You were saying?”

  “Huh?” I blinked. “Oh. Right. I’m glad you moved in.”

  “Thanks,” he said, pressing his beer bottle to the side of his temple. “I hope you don’t live to regret it.”

  I laughed uneasily.

  We stared at one another.

  Even though the conversation had been innocent and generic, I couldn’t help but think there was a tension to it. A sexual tension we wouldn’t be able to avoid for much longer. But that was just my imagination. He had told me he
didn’t want me anymore.

  I needed to listen.

  My attention fell to the scar he told me about this morning. It looked as if it had hurt a lot, which made me wonder if anyone had helped him through the pain. If he’d had anyone by his side. A hero like him should never be alone.

  After a while, he cleared his throat, breaking the awkward silence. And was it just me, or did he check out my boobs? Nope. It still had to be my imagination. Or he was just being a normal guy, and staring at boobs, as men do. “Do you want a beer?”

  “God, yes,” I said quickly. Maybe it would take the edge off the desire eating me alive. “Please.”

  He set his own beer aside and opened the fridge, pulling out another. There was only one left in the six-pack, so he must’ve polished off a few already. Four beers in, and he didn’t look even the slightest bit tipsy. But looks could be deceiving.

  Especially when it came to Jackson.

  Sliding the beer cap into the magnetic bottle opener that had somehow found its way to my fridge, he cracked it open and handed it off to me. I took it, our fingers brushing, and bit my lip. “Thanks.”

  “Anytime,” he murmured. He scratched his shoulder, the one right above his scar, and I studied the tattoos there. There was a date and a few initials. Underneath, it had the army logo. On his forearm was a tattoo of a pair of Converse sneakers and flip-flops. The shoes seemed familiar, but I couldn’t quite figure out why. “How was work?”

  “Boring.” I pressed the cool bottle against my blazing cheeks, still staring at his ink. On his opposite shoulder was a silhouette of a naked woman, resting on her hands with her chest thrust up. It even had nipples. “Spent all day listening to Daddy tell me I was doing everything wrong, and how I had to apply myself. Like usual.”

  We fell silent again, staring at one another.

  Well, I stared at his nipples. Or, er, her nipples. Oh, hell, I needed another sip.

  He took another swig of his beer, tapping his fingers on the counter, and leaned his back up against it. The change of position had him facing me, with one leg bent slightly at the knee. It was a casual pose. One many used.

  And yet, on him, it was irrefutably sexy. Unfair.

  “What happened to you going to school to become a teacher?” He took another swig. “Kindergarten was the grade you wanted, right?”

  I watched him, not moving, the beer bottle still pressed against my cheek. I’d never told him I wanted to be a kindergarten teacher…had I? I gave that dream up long ago when Daddy informed me I had to work at his company after marrying Derek. I racked my brain, but I hadn’t even decided that I wanted to do that until tenth grade, and by then he was…

  Oh, my God, the letters.

  He read them.

  For some reason, this made my legs tremble and my heart race. Knowing he’d actually read the words I painstakingly wrote him, when I’d assumed he hadn’t, hit me hard. All those confessions of love, and how much I missed him…he’d seen them. Did he miss them when I’d stopped? Why had he never written back? All of these questions ran through my mind at lightning speed, but I didn’t voice them. It wasn’t because I was scared or anything, but because it didn’t matter why he never wrote me back or whether he enjoyed them or not.

  It was in the past.

  So I took a casual sip of beer and shrugged. He stared at my cheek, so I swiped the condensation away, even though it felt good against my hot skin. “Daddy thought the job had limited earning potential, and it didn’t help with the planned Thornton-Hastings merger…so, yeah. No teaching in my life. I went for marketing, instead. Graduated a month and a half ago.”

  Despite the sexual tension I couldn’t ignore—or maybe because of—it was so easy to talk with him. To be myself. Maybe because I knew he didn’t judge me. I had a feeling I could tell him I liked to dance naked in the rain, and he would blink, grin, and ask me how the rain felt against my bare skin.

  And I would tell him.

  He stopped tapping the granite countertop. “Oh. And how do you feel about that?”

  “Well, I—” Breaking off, I gaped at him, because I realized something right then. “You know, no one’s asked me that before.”

  He pushed off the counter and walked up to me, stopping directly in front of me. I was eye level with his shoulders, and that naked silhouette of a woman who had bigger boobs than me, because he was that tall. “If you ask me, that’s messed up. It’s your damn life, not theirs. You should get to decide how you live it.”

  “Yeah.” I took a sip of beer before tipping my head back. “You know what? It is. Screw them. I would’ve been a good kindergarten teacher.”

  He laughed. “I’m sure you would’ve been.” He paused. “Still could be. You’re young. You could go back.”

  “No.” I focused on my beer bottle. It was easier than looking at him. Less torturous, too. I tried to peel back the label on the beer, but it didn’t budge. “It’s too late. I have to hold down a job at the company, once the merger goes through. It’s part of the deal.”

  “What deal?”

  “Next year, I’m supposed to marry Derek Thornton the third, and our companies will unite.”

  He cocked a brow. “Supposed to?”

  “Yeah.” I pursed my lips, not going into more detail. He didn’t need to know I was trying to find a way out, and failing. Didn’t need to know how scared I was that I would have to follow through with the deal, even if just for a couple of years. “Daddy planned it out with Mr. Thornton years ago.”

  “And you’re just gonna do it?”

  I didn’t answer. Just stared at him.

  He obviously got the point and crossed his arms. “Do I know this guy? The name sounds familiar.”

  “His dad is friends with Daddy. Since before we were born.” I swallowed hard and let out a small laugh. “Also, you kind of punched him that night.”

  His jaw dropped. “That was your fiancé?”

  “He’s not my fiancé.” I shrugged. “But yeah. That was him, in the flesh.”

  “He’s a preppy asshole.” He slammed his mouth shut and gritted his teeth so hard I heard it. “Why the hell would your dad want you to marry a guy like him?”

  “The merger. Money. Promises.” I gave up peeling the label and glanced up at Jackson. Big mistake. Huge. Up close and personal, he looked even more irresistible. Was his stubble as rough as it looked? Or would it tickle my palm? “According to Daddy, I don’t have a choice.”

  “There are always choices in life,” he said quietly, reaching out and sweeping a piece of hair out of my face. I held my breath at the tender move. “It’s how we deal with them that defines who we are.”

  “I feel the same exact way.” But this time it’s different. Too many people depend on me to toe the line. “I’m trying to make my own choice, to do things my way, but it’s not that easy. Life’s not always easy.”

  He released my hair. “Then make it that easy. Fight for yourself. If you do that, you never know where life will lead you.”

  Hopefully, it led me to freedom. Or, at the very least, a short marriage and a quiet divorce. Because no matter what Daddy expected, I would not stay married to a man I didn’t love. And I certainly wouldn’t be popping out a baby with him.

  Not to mention, I clearly wasn’t Derek’s type.

  He was probably as unhappy about this proposed marriage as I was.

  Finishing off the last of my beer, I set it down and peeked into the living room. “Do you need help unpacking? I could help you find a few shirts in those boxes, if you’d like.”

  His mouth quirked into a half smile, and he finished his beer, too. “Nah. I’ve got it, and I know where my shirts are. I warned you I like to be naked. You’re lucky I’m wearing pants.”

  Lucky, or unlucky? “Noted,” I said drily.

  Turning his back on me, he took another beer out. The last one. After opening it, he took a swig and offered it to me. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

  I took it, p
lacing my lips where his had been. I tried to ignore the flutters in my stomach at the simple thing, but the way he watched my mouth…as if he was thinking about the things I thought about and more…yeah. That didn’t help. “Which question was that? I got distracted when we started talking about being naked. One-track mind and all that.”

  He laughed. “Is that so?”

  “Yeah. It is.”

  “I asked you how you felt about not being a teacher?” He paused. “And about maybe marrying Preppy Prick?”

  The sip of beer jammed in my throat, and I choked on it. He took the bottle out of my hand quickly and pounded on my back. By the time I could breathe again, my back stung from the gentle beating, and my throat was raw. “I-I’m okay.”

  But I coughed again, so weakly, even I knew it sounded less than convincing.

  “Yeah. Sure.” He cocked a brow and rubbed the spot between my shoulders he’d previously pounded. I would rather he pound—“If you say so.”

  Once I’d caught my breath, I nodded, more distracted by his hand on my back than my near death from choking. “I can’t believe you called him that.”

  “Did I insult you?” he asked. Even though he asked, I had a feeling he didn’t care in the slightest whether or not he had. His hand rested on my back, and this close, I could see the darker brown flecks in his pupils. I couldn’t look away.

  “The opposite.” I took in a deep breath, but it caught in my throat. “I don’t really like him all that much. Not like a wife should like a husband, anyway.”

  He frowned, his forehead wrinkling a little bit. “That’s hardly the way to start a marriage.”

  “Most end that way,” I said, shrugging, even though I agreed with him one hundred percent. “If I end up marrying him, I’m just jumping the gun, that’s all.”