by Eden Summers
“She was worried about you.”
“Well, for the sake of my sanity, can we please ignore every other motherfucker on the face of the planet for the time being?”
“I’m worried about you.”
Jesus Christ. Where the hell did he put the scotch?
“I don’t know what else to tell you.” He ran a hand through his hair, unable to explain his confusion. He’d never given a shit about his mother. He didn’t care about her death. It was something else. Something he couldn’t pinpoint.
“When Lucas died, I cried for days, even though we were never close.” Her voice came in slow, soft bursts. The depressing lilt reeked of despair. “It wasn’t until a week later that I realized I was grieving more for what could’ve been. I was hurting because the dreamy relationship I fought for us to have would never happen. I’d tried so hard to get him to love me, never giving up hope it would happen one day. Then he was gone. And so were all the fairytale dreams.” She lowered her gaze, staring at her feet. “I grieved for what could’ve been. Not the man who died… If that makes sense.”
He froze, her explanation sinking down to his marrow.
It was such simple insight. So easily spoken. Yet, it was exactly how he felt. He didn’t give a fuck about his egg donor. The thing tearing him apart was what he’d missed. What most people took for granted.
A pained laugh escaped, the action dislodging the ache behind his ribs. He couldn’t fathom the brilliance of this woman. He didn’t know why she knew his thoughts, or how she’d become abnormally insightful. He just loved the fact she was here, with him, pushing away the hollow feeling that no longer dictated his chest.
“Did I overstep?” She glanced up at him through thick lashes, the sight of her concern depriving him of words. “I’m sorry… I should go.”
He couldn’t make her stay.
He shouldn’t.
“Again,” she added softly, “I’m sorry for what you’re going through. It gets easier. I promise.” She made for the end of the counter, her retreat encouraging the return of his hollow torment.
He needed her here. And yet, he didn’t have any way to encourage her to stick around.
There were no bonus points for enduring his company. He didn’t have the kindhearted nature of T.J. or the smooth sophistication of Leo.
Only a shitty attitude and an even shittier outlook on life.
“Don’t.” That was all he had. One word. One pathetic, timid syllable.
She paused, her back to him, her hands limp at her sides. He could feel her slipping away, moving closer and closer toward an escape even though she remained in place.
“Stay a while.” He came up behind her and wove a hand around her hip.
The only asset in his arsenal was sex.
Carnal finesse.
The gift of orgasms.
She gave an audible swallow, and he fought the need to cringe. Everything about her spoke of discomfort—her stiff spine, her rushed breathing, her silence.
She turned, her hip brushing his crotch with painful effect. The slight connection had his cock filling with rapidly-pulsing blood. Those dark lashes beating up at him made coherence difficult.
“You want a distraction?”
“I want you.” He pulled her tight against him and clasped the back of her neck with his free hand.
“What about your insurance policy?”
He scoffed. “Turns out all bets are off when you find out your mother is six feet under.”
She cringed. Maybe she didn’t appreciate his callousness, or sensed his lie. But the evidence stood thick and heavy between them, his dick taking center stage as he leaned in to slant his mouth over hers.
The kiss was utter finesse—smooth swipes of lips and a gentle dance of tongues. He wanted to tattoo this moment on her soul. To engrave himself in her memory, like she’d carved a hole in his.
“Stop.” She placed her hands on his chest. “I still don’t think this is a good idea.”
The rejection stung deeper than it should have. “Why? It’s not like my track record has provided anything but satisfaction.”
She scowled. Scoffed. The two reactions kneeing him in the conscience.
“Fuck.” He stepped back. “I’m sorry. I’m shitty company today… As opposed to every other day, right?”
He waited for her to retaliate. For those eyes to continue spitting fire.
“I never minded your company, Bryan.”
“Skip the placations, sweetheart. We both know I pissed you off more often than not. It’s what I do.”
Her shoulders slumped, his words defeating her in a way he didn’t understand. “You’re nicer than you think you are.”
“Then sleep with me,” he begged. The sorry sack of shit he’d turned into pleaded to get laid. Not by anyone. Only her. Only because he presumed he’d never get the opportunity again. “Neither one of us has anything to lose.”
Her smile was fake. Maybe even reminiscent. “Bryan, if I tell you what’s going on in my mind, it will reinstate your insurance policy.”
“Then don’t.” He slid toward her, smashing his lips to hers, lifting her off the ground. “Don’t say a word.”
“I can’t keep this to myself.” Those determined hands found his chest again, pushing. “If we don’t see each other again, I want to make sure this is out in the open.”
She was seeing someone. Fucking someone.
Christ, he didn’t want to know who.
“Bryan?”
“Yeah?” He placed her on her feet and reached for the bottle of scotch, letting the burning liquid unleash on his throat.
“You’re not going to want to hear this.”
He nodded, his focus on the dwindling scotch.
She was right. He was already prepared to tell her to leave without explanation. He didn’t want to hear the details of who she’d hooked up with. Could it be the cowboy from the bar? Or the weak bastard who fumbled over his words out the front of her cafe? Maybe it was someone with worse qualities.
God knew she had shitty taste in men.
“All right. Let me have it.” He raised the bottle again, this time holding the liquid in his mouth, letting it sauté his tongue.
“I like you.”
The alcohol gagged him, choking the air from his lungs. “What?”
“When we first met, I promised I had no interest in you—not because I knew that was what you wanted to hear—I actually didn’t like you. I thought your attitude was toxic and your confidence grated on my nerves. But the man I got to know is nothing like the brute everyone claims you are.” She nibbled her lower lip. “I don’t see that guy when I look at you. I see someone I want to spend more time with. Someone I fell for. Someone I could see myself falling in love with.”
He dropped the bottle to the counter, still clutching the neck for grounding.
“Don’t get angry.” She held her hands up in surrender. “I know it’s the last thing you want to hear. And that’s why I didn’t tell you the night in the parking lot. I walked away, just like you wanted me to. But I can’t be with you tonight and pretend I feel differently. I can’t lie by omission.”
He wanted to believe everything he heard. If it wasn’t for the alcohol, the nervous breakdown, and the fucked-up news about his mother, he probably could’ve convinced himself this wasn’t a hallucination. Problem was, it seemed too coincidental to have the one thing he wanted laid out before him within accessible reach. It was too good to be true.
“Say something,” she pleaded.
“Give me a second.” His head spun, liquor and disorientation having their wicked way with him.
He wanted to sober up. He needed to sober up.
He side-stepped to the sink, snatched an empty glass from the rack, and filled it with water. Gulp after gulp, he downed one glass, then two, his impatience making the numbing intoxication a heavy liability.
“Don’t worry about it.” Her voice drifted. “I’ll see myself out.”
<
br /> “No.” God, no. He just needed a minute.
He gripped the counter, lowered his head and breathed deep.
“It’s okay. This response is better than the rage I anticipated. I thought you’d yell at me.”
Because that was what he’d done in the past. It was all he knew how to do.
Focus.
He mentally repeated a suitable response, over and over, to make sure it seemed worthy. “I feel the same way.”
She was quiet, deathly silent.
He glanced from the corner of his eye to find confusion staring back at him. He didn’t know if he’d spoken aloud or if the mantra in his head had grown in strength.
She didn’t acknowledge him. She probably didn’t know what he was talking about because all the things she’d said were a figment of his imagination.
Fuck.
“Ella?” He straightened and told his insecurities to fuck off. “I feel the same way.”
Chapter Eighteen
Pamela held herself in check.
Bryan was drunk and on emotional life-support, making her blurted confession a disaster waiting to happen.
“It’s your turn to say something,” he whispered.
Her lips quirked, the burn of tears returning to her eyes. “I’m still trying to digest what you said.”
“Why?”
“You’re confused—”
“About the way I feel?” He spoke with vehemence. “No shit. I’ve spent the weeks trying to figure it out, and it still doesn’t make sense.”
All her needy insecurities latched on with energetic force. “You’ve been thinking about me for weeks?”
“You sound pleased to know I haven’t had a lick of sleep since I last saw you.” He bridged the gap between them, the tips of his shoes nudging hers. “And people think I’m the brutal one.”
This time her smile flourished, spreading across her face in unmanageable enthusiasm. “You’re not brutal.”
“Don’t go ruining my reputation, sweetheart.” He backed her into the counter, his hips rocking into hers. “You’ve done enough to me already.”
His strength seeped into her, calming the frazzled nerves and heartache. She wanted to fall deeper into him, to sink, to drown. But she couldn’t. Not yet.
“Can we put this on hold for a while?”
He slid his hands into hers, entwining their fingers against her thighs. “You still think this is a reaction to grief?”
She nodded. “A little.”
“That’s okay.” He grinned, surprising her with the impressive display. “I still think it’s a drunken hallucination.”
He pressed his lips to hers, stealing away the negative thoughts with his patented kissing style. He licked her thoroughly, patiently, their tongues sparring and dancing. She ran her hands along the lapels of his suit, holding him close, but a distant sound disturbed her concentration, the murmurs of conversation building with every second.
Bryan broke the kiss to glare over her shoulder. “Your cavalry has arrived.”
She frowned and turned to find Leo, T.J., Cassie, and Shay striding into the main room, only to freeze in place, one after the other.
“Whoa.” T.J. shot a glance at his wife. “This isn’t what I expected to find.”
“What did you expect?” Bryan caged Pamela in place from behind, one hand on the counter at either side of her hips.
“I, umm…” Cassie blushed. “I thought it was a good idea to do a welfare check. Things were tense earlier.”
“We’re okay.” Pamela straightened, keeping the heat of Bryan tight at her back. “Everything is fine.”
Cassie nodded while Shay crossed her arms over her chest.
“Cue the questions,” Bryan muttered in her ear.
“Is your mom okay?” Shay asked. “Apparently, you told Pamela she was sick.”
“Shay,” Cassie hissed. “That was private.”
Shit. Bryan remained quiet, his warmth turning to icy steel.
“I’m sorry.” She turned in his arms. “I mentioned it to Cassie earlier. I assumed they already knew.” She held her breath, waiting for his anger.
“Don’t worry.” He gave her a thin-lipped smile. “Shay snoops like a P.I. She would’ve found out sooner or later.”
His easy acceptance only compiled her guilt. It also made her want to kiss the breath from his lungs.
“Is she okay?” Leo asked.
Bryan kept his focus on her, not acknowledging his friends as he announced, “She’s dead.”
She didn’t wince. Didn’t flinch. She began to think the brutal replies were the only way he knew how to respond. Maybe it was a coping mechanism, or something he’d been taught since childhood from his heartless parents.
“Oh, shit.” T.J.’s voice sounded over the numerous gasps. “What happened?”
Bryan’s composure fractured, his forehead creasing with deep wrinkles.
“It’s okay.” She could be his strength. At least, she wanted to be if he’d allow her. “Let me take care of it.” She faced his friends with a sad smile. “She lost her battle with cancer at the end of April.”
“April?” Shay accused. “She died last month and you couldn’t tell us?”
Pamela flinched, her blood boiling over the insensitive reaction.
“Let her go,” Bryan mumbled in her ear, his arm weaving around her waist. “I get too much satisfaction watching her make an ass of herself.”
“Brute?” Shay snapped. “What the hell?”
“You’ve gotta admit, this is unfair,” Leo added. “We’ve given you space for weeks, letting you dump the workload on our shoulders. I don’t doubt you needed time, but you could’ve told us before today. We had no idea what was going on.”
Bryan began playing with her hair, acting as though the heated conversation was a casual chit-chat. “This pretty little lady was the cause of my issues. Not my mother.”
“Me?” She peered over her shoulder. “Why?”
“I told you—you were messing with my head. I couldn’t concentrate. I had to bow out of dealing with customers because my public relation skills became less than stellar.”
“They’ve never been anything to write home about,” Shay muttered.
He smirked, the expression quickly fading. “I didn’t find out about my mother until today.”
“Oh, shit.” Leo palmed his stubbled jaw. “Who the fuck does that?”
“My family,” Bryan offered. “But on the bright side—one down, one to go.”
They all cringed.
Leo held up his hands in warning. “Don’t say shit like that. You’re gonna go to hell.”
“At least my family will be there to greet me, right?”
“Bryan…” Her plea whispered between them. She couldn’t handle his detachment anymore. It wasn’t healthy. She needed them to be alone so she could comfort him the way women do—with affection and understanding and love. Not the careless back and forth between friends.
Cassie met her gaze, her eyes questioning. “We should go back upstairs…”
“Yes. Please,” she mouthed, appreciating the woman’s intuition. “Thank you.”
“Good idea. We’ll give you two a few more minutes alone.” T.J. placed a hand on his wife’s hip and guided her toward the exit. “If you need anything…”
“I’m good.” Bryan’s lie was convincing. If only she didn’t know better.
“Yeah.” Leo nodded. “We’re here, buddy. Just say the word.”
The four of them filed through the entry to the newbie lounge, their footsteps fading until the deafening click of a door latch sealed her fate.
The room remained silent, the emptiness closing in on her as Bryan’s heartbeat echoed into her back. She sensed he wouldn’t fill the void. At least not with honesty or emotion. If she left the conversation up to him, she was certain there’d be more dark humor to mask his feelings. She craved his trust and wished he would open up to her. Even if just a little.
“
You joke about things that upset you.”
He nestled his forehead into her hair. “It’s what I do.”
“If you talk it out, it might get better.” She stared across the room, knowing he’d loathe her suggestion.
“I prefer my way. It works for me.” A way that kept his heartbreak hidden and slowly building. God forbid he ruined his reputation. “For now,” he added. “Who knows what girly things you’ll talk me into if we start spending more time together.”
“Is that what you want?” She turned, becoming ensnared in the emotional depth of his eyes. There was no more dark or callous banter. He was bare, vulnerable, and oh, so beautiful. “The time together, not the girly part.”
“That’s what comes next, right? I’ve never done this before.”
“That’s not what I asked. I want to know what you want.”
One side of his lips gradually kicked, his smirk building as he pressed his hips harder into hers. “In that case, I think we both know the answer.”
“Bryan.” She struggled not to laugh. “I’m serious.”
He stared at her mouth, his thumb lifting to trace her lower lip with feather-light pressure. “You still want to wait?”
“That depends…”
His gaze snapped to hers. “On?”
“On whether you want me to feel secure in what’s going on between us. The physical part has been easy. Why don’t we give ourselves time to work on everything else?”
“You’re trying to appeal to logic over my libido?” He clucked his tongue. “Stupid move, sweetheart.”
It wasn’t stupid. She wanted him to be of sound mind the next time they slept together. For her sake, and his. Regret was the last thing either one of them needed if he woke up tomorrow and decided he’d made a mistake. “I just thought waiting would be best.”
He ignored her and leaned in to trek his lips along her jaw, to her neck, then the sensitive spot below her ear.
Alcohol. Bereavement. Heartache. She reminded herself of the aspects shaping his decisions.
She shouldn’t encourage his heavenly seduction. Not when he was finally where he was supposed to be. She should hold out, for her heart’s sake. For one more day. At least until morning.
