by Nia Arthurs
Good ole’ Kastle.
I, on the other hand, don’t give a rat’s behind what people think about me. Which seems to make women think there’s something complicated and mysterious going on in my head.
There’s not.
All I care about is Glory.
That’s it.
There’s not space for anything else.
The woman from yesterday comes to mind. Her soft brown skin. Her curly hair. Her dark, trembling eyes. Eyes that sparked and gleamed from the inside.
I grit my teeth. Instead of seeking out that beautiful stranger, I had to hunt down Ms. Scott, the headache standing between me and my ability to afford my daughter’s hospital bills.
A waitress bats her eyelashes at me. “What can I get you, handsome?”
“Coffee. Black.”
“No problem.”
As she pours, I look for a free seat. This diner must be popular because most of the plush red booths are filled. Sunlight streams through the small windows dressed in flimsy white curtains.
“You waiting for your girlfriend?” The chatty waitress asks, resting her elbows on the bar and leaning straight over so I can see down her dress.
I’m sure she’s pretty. To some guy, she’d be a hell of a catch. A woman who knows what she wants will always get an extra check in my book. But since I got custody of my daughter, I’ve lost interest in flings. When I dip my toe into the dating pool again, it’ll be with a woman who can be a good mother to my daughter, not just a good lay.
“If you say yes,” she pouts, “I’ll be so disappointed.”
My lips barely curl up.
Her eyes brighten, mistaking my amusement for interest. Interest that I don’t have.
There’s desperation written all over her. I get the sense that if I threw her a crumb of attention, she’d dig her nails into me and never let go.
The neediness.
The expectations.
Why do women pin their hopes on me? A man they’ve never met. A man who could use and discard them without any effort.
Maybe it’s my long hair that I keep saying I’ll chop off.
Maybe it’s the simple T-shirt.
The cargo pants.
The work boots.
Maybe it’s because I seem solid and uncomplicated.
Or maybe it’s because I’m broken too.
Whatever it is, I have a track-record of attracting women with issues.
With a little girl moving in and out of the hospital, I barely have time for myself. When I get up in the morning, my life revolves around Glory. A relationship has not been in the cards for a while.
The woman from yesterday flashes through my head again. Thick black lashes. Trembling brown lips. Something about her made me waver and I can’t seem to get her out of my head.
I turn to the waitress. “No. No girlfriend.”
“Come on. A man like you,” she twirls her hair, “must have a woman in his life.”
“I do.”
“Oh.” Her expression falls and her eyes drop to my ring finger. Empty. Her gaze bounces back like she’s trying to figure me out.
I let her think what she wants and accept my coffee. “Thanks.”
She nods.
At that moment, the door jangles open.
My brother and Kaelyn stride in, chatting excitedly about… well, it really doesn’t matter. As best friends, those two talk about everything under the sun and never tire of it. They’ve always been a pair. Two for the price of one.
Kastle notices me and waves, a broad smile growing on his angular face. His blazer flaps against his side as he heads my way. There’s a confidence to his stride now that was missing before.
Since Kastle told mom off, he seems more like himself and less like a Jameson family mascot.
I like it.
It’s what I’ve wanted for my brother for years.
People in the diner begin to recognize him, and it causes a stir.
A woman pulls out her cell phone.
Kids start chattering.
The waitress gasps, “Is that Kastle Jameson?”
Looks like I’m forgotten.
I hold my grin back and accept my brother’s hand. He pulls me in for a hug and a slap on the back. His tan skin is all genetics while mine is bred from too many hours in the sun, but it amuses me whenever I realize that we’re the same skin tone.
Two different ethnicities.
Same tan.
Brothers.
While I’m embracing Kastle, I look over his shoulder casually and notice Kaelyn. She smiles prettily at me, using one of her braids to wave ‘hello’. Her skin is dark and smooth. Flawless. Her almond shaped eyes are almost always curved up into a smile, especially when she’s with Kastle. Today, Kaelyn’s wearing a bright African print dress that explodes with joy and personality.
Just like her.
The door above the diner crashes open and a beautiful woman hustles in. “Sorry, Kae. I forgot my purse in your…” Her words fade when our gazes collide.
It’s the woman from yesterday. She’s wearing a light blue jacket over a white shirt and jeans. Her long, curly brown hair spirals to her back. The shock in her eyes mirrors my own.
Kastle pulls away from the hug and gestures behind him. “Bro, I want you to meet somebody. This,” Kastle throws his arm in a flourish, “is Brenna Scott.”
Those familiar brown eyes peer into me. Sunlight turns them to a softer hue. Sweet coffee flickered with cream and gold.
“Ms. Scott,” I say firmly.
The moment she hears my voice, Brenna narrows her eyes. “Jameson?”
I don’t bother nodding.
She knows.
And she recognizes me too.
Eight
Brenna
Shock scours my chest like a lightening bolt. Disbelief is followed quickly by annoyance and fury.
Of course the jerk contractor is the dashing stranger I met in front of the farmhouse.
Naturally.
Because why would my life work out any other way?
I grit my teeth, nostrils flaring as memories of his insults wash over me. It doesn’t help that he looks like a whole damn snack, standing there in the middle of the diner, towering over everyone except Kastle and the metal flagpole with the diner’s mascot.
His green eyes pierce me like a spear. I’m half sure that if he glares any harder, a bullet hole will appear in my forehead and blood will start gushing out.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I snap abruptly.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Kaelyn asks.
“No.” I force myself to face her. “You two just grab a table, would you?”
Kaelyn gives me a confused look, but I ignore her and stride down the hallway.
There’s no way I’m going back in there just to sit across from the guy who’s trying to tear down the farmhouse. I came here to get away from my chaotic thoughts, not pile on them.
I’m sure there’s a back exit somewhere.
Just before I make my escape, a deep voice says, “Thought so.”
I jump and turn around to find Heath striding into the hallway. His tall, lean body sucks all the air out of the room and sends a crackle of electricity snapping through me.
Those green eyes are so sure, so commanding. It makes me want to take him down a peg. Just for the heck of it.
I square my shoulders. “Are you talking to me?”
“Go ahead.” He juts his chin at the exits. “I didn’t come to stop you.”
My hackles rise until it feels like my entire head is burning. “Are you always this obnoxious?”
He leans against the wall and folds his burly hands over his chest. The movement causes his muscles to bulge and clench in a way that I should not be noticing.
But I do.
“I should have recognized you when I heard your voice over the phone.”
My lips go dry and I flick my tongue out to moisten them. “What are you doing here?”
“I came at my brother’s request.”
“Not here at the restaurant. I know that,” I snap. “What are you doing here?” I jab my finger down at the hallway.
“I told you.” He tilts his head with the practiced ease of a man used to snapping his fingers and getting panties thrown at him. “I wanted to see if you’d run.”
“But I didn’t.”
“You were about to.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Only because I caught you.” There’s a glimmer in his eyes. I see the annoyance, but I also sense…
What is that? Amusement? Intrigue?
He wants to figure me out.
I’m a puzzle.
Something to break apart and put back together.
It angers me even more.
“Since you’re here, we might as well get this over with.” I stride toward him and tap my foot on the ground. “I’ll accept your apology now.”
“What apology?”
“The one you’re about to give me.” I raise my chin. “For insulting me over the phone.”
“I never insulted you.”
“That’s not an apology.”
He laughs in that deep voice.
And sure, it makes his eyes sparkle like floating lanterns in a dark, star-lit sky.
And maybe it makes the most masculine wrinkles form along his eyes and bracket his lips.
And maybe those straight white teeth look perfect for a Colgate commercial.
But I don’t care.
I barely notice.
“I kicked myself so much when I didn’t get your name yesterday,” Heath mumbles.
“Really? I forgot all about you.”
One side of his mouth hitches up in a smile that is way too sexy to be legal.
He narrows his eyes. “Liar.”
“You’re not my type,” I snap. “Although I’m sure rejection is a foreign concept to you.”
“Just like giving up is a foreign concept to you.”
I fold my arms over my chest. “I wouldn’t have started this fight if I couldn’t see it through.”
“You’re stubborn.”
“I’m right.”
“And proud of it.” His eyes flicker down my body.
Awareness simmers between us.
I’m not the only one battling mixed emotions.
Not that I’m giving into them.
He’s the enemy here.
We both know it.
I tap my foot faster.
Heath pushes off the wall and the simple gesture immediately shifts the dynamics. All my bravado pools into a melted puddle in my belly and sloshes around like jello. I swallow hard as Heath rises to his full height.
His glinting eyes warn me that he knows I’m losing my footing.
My voice trembles. “I’m still waiting for my apology.”
“Ms. Scott.” He takes a step.
I shuffle back, my heart thundering in my chest.
“You seem to be mistaken.” Another step.
My brain clangs alarm bells. He’s looking at me like a hawk about to devour its prey and I dig my fingernails into my palm to keep me steady.
This man has ‘danger’ written all over him.
Danger and other words.
Like heartbreak.
Like pain.
Like pleasure.
He hovers over me and my neck has to crane all the way back just to meet his eyes. “An apology wouldn’t fix this.”
“Why not?” I ask, holding my ground. There’s no way I’m going to be backed up into a wall like some nineteenth century governess.
Heath’s eyes narrow. “Because I’d have to be sorry.”
Gritting my teeth, I step forward. “So you really are a jerk.”
“Call me whatever you want, princess, as long as you step out of the way.”
I step forward instead.
My chest brushes against his.
Two heartbeats pump in tandem.
I fall into ocean eyes.
Feel the tension rocket to a new level.
I don’t know where the annoyance ends and the attraction begins.
All I know is that it’s twisted. Messed up. Complicated.
And I should run like hell.
But I don’t.
Never.
If he doesn’t back down, I can’t either.
“Is this how you’re changing the world? Giving bribes and tearing down historical landmarks?” I fold my arms over my chest. “The most dangerous people are the ones who think what they’re doing is right. That applies to you too.”
“The offer still stands.” He leans down, an edge in his eyes. He’s expecting me to scramble back like a trembling rat, but I stand my ground.
The heat between us erupts into a scorching blaze.
Heath doesn’t move.
Neither do I.
“Screw you.”
“I’m not going to give up on the farmhouse, Ms. Scott.” His voice is that dark growl that caught me off-guard on the phone.
Even now, it causes tension to pool between my thighs. I shift forward and notice the way he clenches his teeth when I whisper, “Well, neither am I.”
His eyes drill into mine.
Even though fury is pounding through my veins, I feel myself swaying forward. The truth should scare me off, but I’m so irritatingly attracted to him that it burns my chest.
My eyes dip to his lips. Pink and masculine. The top lip is only slightly fuller than the bottom. How would the scruff on his jaw burn my smooth skin? How would that mouth feel on mine…?
Heath leans toward me too but, instead of kissing me, he grabs my elbow. My eyes widen and my heart thunders louder than any lightning storm. I’m trapped between his two big fingers and though the touch isn’t painful, it is firm.
“You didn’t change the band-aid.”
I yank my hand down, aghast at my own response.
“Does it still hurt?” His green eyes drill into mine.
There’s sincerity in the tone.
Like he really freaking cares.
My head spins.
This is so confusing.
He’s the impossibly gentle man who cared for me yesterday.
He’s the jerk trying to tear down the farmhouse.
And that means…
He has a daughter.
A little girl.
My chest heaves as I try to reconcile the two personas.
“Pick a side, alright? I can’t…” I shake my head. Feel my breath rattle in my chest. “I can’t handle this.”
“This?”
“You know what I’m talking about.” I narrow my eyes.
He tilts his head, his gaze taking on that assessing sparkle it did when we first met.
“You’re the enemy,” I snap.
“I am.” His eyes caress me. “And so are you.” His lips curl up in a dark smile. “What am I going to do with you, Ms. Scott?”
There’s a hint of a threat in his words.
The thrill of a dare.
The excitement of a challenge.
A customer turns the corner at that moment. The woman gives us a knowing look as she tiptoes past and disappears into the bathroom.
My cheeks on fire, I fan my face and try to collect my breath.
Everything is so confusing.
But I know several things for sure.
This man is wicked.
And gentle.
And cocky.
And sweet.
And I want him to touch me again.
Nine
Heath
“We thought you’d never come back,” Kastle says, lifting a hand and gesturing to the waitress. “What took you guys so long?”
I slip in beside Brenna. “We met in the hallway and had a… pleasant discussion.”
“Pleasant my—”
“What was that?” Kaelyn tucks one of her long braids behind her ear.
“Nothing,” Brenna squeaks.
I
rest my chin on my open palm and stare at her, my lips twitching.
How can one woman be that infuriating and that sexy all at the same time?
Playing Brenna’s little game in the hallway was a mistake on my part. It muddled waters that are already choppy enough. I had her so close I could nearly feel her heartbeat speeding up against mine.
A mistake.
And one I want to make again.
It’s dangerous to think that way. I need to convince this woman to drop her historic landmark investigation so I can demolish that old building. She’s standing smack-dab in the way of what I want. The only reason I should be putting my hands on her is to shove her over a cliff.
Kastle hands us a menu. “Order whatever you want. It’s my treat.”
“Kastle.” I protest. He’s my little brother. Even if he makes significantly more than me, I take care of him.
“I don’t want to hear it, bro.” Kastle lifts a hand. “Today is about you two. We’re celebrating Brenna’s win with the farmhouse…”
“Yay!” Kaelyn claps her hands.
Brenna smiles primly at me.
I scowl.
“And,” Kastle continues, sliding my menu over, “we’re offering moral support while you fight that awful woman who’s delaying your construction.”
Brenna’s grin turns cold. “Awful?”
“Well…” My heart thunders.
“Oh yeah. Horrible.” Kastle’s voice is as cheerful as a bird.
Brenna continues to glare a hole into my head.
I squirm. “Kas…”
“Heath called me last night and told me all about it. Apparently, the woman’s an attention-seeking snowflake who charges after anything that smells of progress and tears it to shreds. A real piece of work that one.” He lifts his glass of water in my direction. “Don’t worry. We’ll curse her out for you.”
Kaelyn nods determinedly. “Trust me. No one can talk smack like I can. That woman’s going to wish she never met you.”
“Oh, I think she does,” Brenna says stiffly.
I wince and hold my menu up. “Why don’t we focus on ordering?”
Blessedly, Kastle drops the conversation.
Still, the deathly silence coming from my right feels like a spear.
Brown fingers slap the inside of my menu. Brenna hauls the book down, her eyes pinned to me. “An attention-seeking snowflake? Really?”
