Breaking Even (The Sterling Shore Series #5)

by C. M. Owens

  Tag smiles, but it seems like he drifts off into memory land. “There was a time when I felt the same way.”

  I appreciate what he’s trying to do, but I’m not him. I wish I was, but I’m not. His old fear of commitment didn’t stem from the same dark roots mine does.

  I’ve seen the nasty side of love. I’ve seen it swallow people and destroy all their hope, their light, and their will to live. I couldn’t ever do that to someone and live with myself.

  “We’re different,” I tell him, motioning between us. “Not all people can change.”

  “If you manage to stop thinking about her, then maybe you’re right,” he says, offering me a tighter smile. “But if you can’t, then you might need to admit defeat. That’s all I came by to say. I should go. Let me know if you need anything.”

  I just nod, and he walks out. I release a harsh breath that has been clogging up my lungs, and I turn to stare out the window to the pet store. Even that makes me think of her now. Brin didn’t go to work this morning, and I’m almost positive it’s because I fucked with her head last night.

  How the hell do I dig myself out of this hole?

  ***

  BRIN

  “You’re not staying in bed all day,” Maggie gripes, ripping the cover off me for the third time.

  “Can’t you just let a girl wallow for one day?” I growl, squinting against the intrusive light she has let into my room.

  “No. You’re not doing this. You’re too strong for something like this to knock you on your ass for even a minute.”

  I glare at her before jerking the covers out of her hand and pulling them back over my head again. But as soon as I settle in, she’s depriving me of my shield once more, and this time she throws the covers out of my room.

  “I used to love you, but you’re quickly rising up to the top of my most-hated enemies right now,” I say in warning.

  She crosses her arms over her chest, her stern gaze pinning me in place. I hate Maggie’s pissed look. It’s actually a little scary.

  “Fine!” I snap, crawling out of the bed and feeling resentment toward her rising.

  “Good!” she barks, and then she turns on her heel and storms out, pausing only to grab my covers and drag them away.

  “What am I supposed to do? I’ve already called in and requested a personal day.”

  “Go out and get some air. I’ll prepare our stay-in movie night, and I’ll teach you how to properly deal with disappointment. It includes three flavors of ice cream.”

  That sounds promising.

  “Where should I go for air?” I joke, earning a huff from her.

  “The beach is ideal. Now go. I’ll get everything ready.”

  With a great deal of reluctance, I start getting my clothes on and I pull my hair back. I frown when I see my keys. Maggie said he brought them over when he got home last night. I’m glad I wasn’t here.

  Now I have to go see what all he did to my car, and it’s going to break my resolve just a little bit more. Any guy who kisses a girl and stalks away is obviously battling with the fact that he doesn’t want to want her.

  It sucks, but I get it. I know I’m not the type of girl he goes for. I knew it from the beginning. But our chemistry... I just thought he’d get past the superficial bullshit. I’m not that bad, dammit.

  In a room full of normal women, I’d be much more appealing. I should move to a new town. One where the gene pool isn’t overloaded with the super sexy.

  When I finally force myself outside, I stare at my car like I’ve never seen it before. I only saw it under the streetlights last night, and I took a cab to Ash’s house because I knew I’d need lots of alcohol to make it through the date. I was right.

  In the daylight, I can see the extreme makeover so much better.

  Even the small scratches and shopping cart dents are gone. I half expect a sparkling effect to start up at any moment. I walk around it, noting all the added details. He had to have spent a small fortune on this.

  Why? Why do all of this? And he said I was driving him fucking crazy. Well, he’s frigging driving me insane.

  It takes me a minute, but I finally get into the front seat, smiling when I see that it’s all the way back, and I adjust it so that I can reach the pedals. I can’t believe this. He gave me leather upholstery? Real leather? And it feels so good. I swear it almost has a new car smell.

  There’s a touchscreen panel on the dash that I can assume must control my air and radio, since the old turn dials and radio system are missing. Tears fill my eyes. He completely changed my entire car for the better.

  I laugh when my car cranks on the first try. It usually takes a few key turns to start it, and it purrs instead of squealing like it’s in pain. When I shift it into drive, I almost break the gear stick. Normally it’s so hard to put into place, but now it just glides almost too easily.

  I can’t help but giggle, and a tear escapes my grasp. Pulling away from the curb is so easy because the steering is so much better. Everything is better. The rear isn’t shaking when I try to tap the brakes. Brakes! They’re not screeching!

  I almost do a happy dance when my car stops without sliding a few extra feet. It’s a whole new car. The radio starts playing, but it’s all in Spanish. I glare at it for a second when I reach the stop sign.

  Every time I try to change the station, a box pops up and asks for the password. He did this on purpose, and I can’t stop smiling.

  Rye. I have to go talk to him. I refuse to let one kiss screw up our friendship. And there’s something else I want to do.

  ***

  RYE

  “I’ve got five-hundred dollars here, but I know that’s nowhere close to covering it, so I’ll make monthly payments,” Brin says, sounding very close, and I almost jump out of my damn seat.

  Where the hell did she come from? And how long has she been in my office?

  “Um... I told you it was on me,” I say lamely, cringing at how juvenile I feel in this moment.

  Her hair is pulled back, her shorts are too short for me to ignore, and her shirt is tighter than usual. She would go buy fucking clothes that fit the moment I start having issues.

  “No,” she says, putting an envelope on the table. “I don’t want you doing me any favors. I can pay you back. It might take me a while, but I don’t like owing people anything.”

  She might as well slap me. This is all because I ruined things between us.

  “I’m not taking your damn money, and if you try paying me, I’ll never talk to you again.”

  I push the envelope back across the desk, and she glares at me. Christ, I love it when she’s angry.

  I’m twisted.

  “It’s not like you want to ever talk to me again anyway. You kissed me and ran off like I had some disease. Which I don’t, by the way.”

  Fuck. We’re apparently going to talk about this now. Here. And I’m not ready.

  “I’m sure you don’t,” I mutter dryly. “But I’m sort of at work. Can we talk about this later?”

  “No,” she says with a shrug, pushing the envelope back toward me again. “Because you won’t be talking to me later. I’m paying you back.”

  She moves to the far corner, putting distance between us when her hands start to tremble. I really don’t want to do this right now.

  Jessica walks in, wearing a dress she must have been poured into, and Brin’s eyes go to her, appraising her. I know what she’s thinking right now because I see it in her eyes. And Jessica doesn’t even notice the corner Brin is in.

  “Your lunch meeting is in twenty minutes, Mr. Clanton,” Jessica says with a baby voice. Why do girls talk in a baby voice on purpose? Wouldn’t that only appeal to a pedophile?

  “Thanks,” I say quickly, hoping she gets the hint to leave.

  She doesn’t.

  “And I wanted to know if you need me to stay late tonight?” she asks, going into a sexier voice that has Brin inching toward the door.

  Fucking shit. She’s ge
tting the wrong idea. Does Jessica always talk to me like this? Am I just super aware of it now that Brin is standing five feet away?

  “I can’t imagine there would be any reason why you would have to stay late.”

  “I can think of a few reasons,” she says seductively, and I visibly grimace.

  “I should go,” Brin announces, and Jessica squeals and jumps, startled by the fact someone else is in the room.

  “I’m so... sorry,” Jessica stammers. “I didn’t realize there was a client in here.”

  Brin smiles tightly, and before I can correct her, Brin starts talking. “It’s fine. I’m just on my way out.” Then she looks at me. “And I’ll send the rest of the payments through Maggie from now on. That way... Well, I’ll let you get back to your conversation.”

  She’s gone before I can even get my tongue untangled, and Jessica turns back to me with fear in her eyes.

  “I really am sorry, Mr. Clanton. I honestly didn’t know anyone else was in here.”

  I groan while gripping my head, and then I slam shut the drawer to my right while standing up. I need to go for a ride and clear my mind.

  “That’s not really the issue, Jessica. I hired you for a number of reasons—one being the fact that my clientele is ninety percent men. And maybe I enjoyed the flirty nature at first, but this is work. Work means acting professional. If you can’t do that, then find a new job. Cancel my noon meeting. I’m leaving early.”

  She holds back tears as I walk out. Great. Now I’ve made another woman cry. Fuck my life.

  ***

  BRIN

  “It was stupid, and I don’t want to talk about it,” I say numbly, staring at the TV even though I have no idea what’s on the screen.

  “When I said get some air, I didn’t mean for you to go see him.”

  Just the thought of that girl getting ready to strip naked in his office makes me sick. He just sat there, watching me watch them. It was the ickiest experience of my life. My feet felt so heavy, and I still feel like the world’s biggest idiot.

  “I didn’t mean to go see him, but then I got in the car, and it reminded me what a freaking amazing guy he is. Was. Now he’s slime.”

  I scowl at the TV like it’s Rye, and Maggie sighs. “Well, is the car good at least?”

  The glacier encasing my heart warms just a little at the thought of my car.

  “It’s perfect—which is why I went over there to pay him. He spent way too much, and then I was crying, and I don’t cry. I never cry. I didn’t cry when John ruined my life and stuck me with all of his credit card bills. I didn’t cry when he divorced me. And he sure as hell never did anything sweet enough to make me cry. Rye... I’m so... I don’t get it!”

  Maggie looks torn about what to say, but she doesn’t have to decide because the devil himself walks into our house without so much as a knock. My heart sputters the way my car used to when I look up to meet his serious face.

  I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him without a glint of mischief in his eyes until the past two days. I hate it.

  “Rye,” Maggie says uncomfortably, sitting up in the chair.

  “Care if we have a second?” he asks her, but his eyes stay on me as his jaw tenses.

  “Um... Yeah,” she says uncertainly, looking to me for permission to leave.

  I just shrug as she slowly gets up and leaves us alone. I don’t think I can get any tenser.

  “Brin, about earlier... with Jessica, that wasn’t—”

  “Don’t,” I interrupt, sighing. “Please don’t. You don’t owe me any explanations. I showed up at your office unannounced. She didn’t see me. I didn’t think... It was stupid. I’m sorry. You don’t have to come over here and explain.”

  I’ve never felt so pathetic.

  He frowns as he comes to sit beside me. I wish he’d just leave.

  “Brin, I don’t have a thing for Jessica. She works for me. That’s it.”

  I just laugh bitterly. “Rye, go. I don’t even know why you’re here. Well, I do actually. You feel bad because you kissed me and then ran away. Then I got to witness a girl more your type go for gold in your office. You’re decent enough to feel bad about it, but you don’t have to. In fact, I’d like it if you’d just stop.”

  “Brin, I—”

  “Stop saying my name. Stop coming over here. Stop playing the pranks.” I stand up, turn my back on him, and ignore the fever going on behind my eyes. I will not cry. “Before you started sending me mixed signals, I felt just fine with the way I am. I don’t have to look like I just stepped off the runway in order to be happy. I don’t have to deal with the sleaze balls who are just looking for sex, because I’m not the one-night stand of their dreams. I’m perfectly happy. Or I was.

  “You... you’re messing with my head, and that’s not okay. I don’t like someone making me feel as though I’m not good enough. I want to be appreciated the way I am. I know what I want, and games aren’t involved. So please go. I’ll crown you king of the war by default. You win. Consider us even.”

  The first tear falls, and I silently curse it. I’ve never wanted to be one of the Sterling Shore perfect women until him. And I don’t like hating myself.

  “You’re taking all of this out of context, Brin. I... Fuck!” he yells, slapping something.

  I turn around to face him, but he’s suddenly right there, and just like last night, his lips are on mine, surprising me with an attack that I wasn’t prepared for. Instinctively, my fingers thread through hair instead of shoving him back like I need to do.

  He pulls me tightly against his body, even though he has to bend over to kiss me. When his tongue sweeps in, I either whimper or moan—possibly both. A noise escapes him that almost sounds feral, and the kiss becomes even hungrier.

  Why am I doing this to myself?

  We fall to the couch, and I’m straddling him before my brain can process the shift. His hands are all over me—my back, my neck, my hair, back down to my ass. We’re a mess of pants, moans, wild hands, and ravenous needs.

  But I stupidly want to do more than what we can do on this couch—with Maggie home. I also want him to stop before my heart gets tripped up and shattered.

  “Rye,” I mumble against his lips, trying to catch my air and my sanity.

  “Please don’t get even with me right now,” he says, his lips moving down to my neck.

  Oh damn. I’ve never felt lips so demanding—hard and soft at the same time. I want to live in this torture for as long as I can.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, trying to push him away, but pulling him closer instead as I gyrate my hips.

  He growls, and I move again, doing what I can to drive him as crazy as he’s driving me.

  “I mean don’t stop this to get even with me for last night. Let’s call a truce for the night.”

  I’m torn between smiling and swearing. I’m past the point of confused.

  “You want a truce?” I ask breathlessly, curling to him as he continues that divine trail of kisses, dragging his lips across my collarbone on his way down my chest.

  “I want a lot of things right now, but we’ll start with a truce.”

  I’m fairly certain my heart has stopped beating or else it is racing too fast to be felt.

  “Okay,” I say like a crazy girl who is begging to be broken.

  He stands with me still wrapped around him, and I’m almost positive he’s going to put me down and leave me hanging. Again. So I do what any sane, rational person would do—I clamp my legs around his waist so tightly that they’d need the Jaws of Life to undo me.

  Yep. Problem solved.

  “What are you doing?” I ask when he starts walking, but his lips refuse to part from mine for long, and he returns to the hungry kiss without answering.

  Not that I’m complaining.

  Every emotion I have conflicts with each other. I want to stop and never stop at the same time. I still feel us moving, and then I hear the door shutting behind us. It takes so much effort, but
I pull back to see him carrying us across the yard.

  He tries to go for my lips again, but with fresh air comes some clarity, and I’m able to dodge his attack. But in his soft brown eyes, I see that mischief is back, and his smile is stealing the last ounce of my strength.

  “Where are we going?” I ask as we reach his yard.

  “Where do you think? You want to cook in my kitchen. And I want to see that... Later.”

  Yep. I’m putty. All of the sensible is tossed away as madness sinks in and my lips return to his with an almost desperate need. I’ll worry about the consequences later. Either way, the friendship is fucked. Might as well enjoy the perks.

  His talented tongue provokes fantasies I plan to live out, and I kiss him back with every bit of my desire pouring free.

  The door pushes against my back as he fumbles with his keys, but he finally gets it unlocked and carries me over the threshold. I still have a death-grip on his waist, and my legs try to cramp from all the exerted force.

  “Christ,” he murmurs, breaking the kiss and gasping for air.

  “Don’t you dare freak out and run,” I mumble, moving my lips back toward his as he navigates his house the best he can without being able to see around me very well. “I will hurt you if you do.”

  He laughs as he meets my lips with a teasing kiss, and then I’m suddenly tossed onto a mattress that angels had to have made themselves.

  “I’m not freaking out and running,” he says, slowly climbing over me, nudging my legs apart with his knees and then settling into the space he’s created. “You’re not getting out of here tonight.”

  The knot that forms in my throat almost chokes me, and my senses become hyperaware of everything around me. Each breath, touch, taste, smell... It’s all driving me out of my mind as he takes his time, slowly bringing his lips down to my neck and tormenting me with pleasure.

  “You’re trying to torture me,” I groan when his hands slide up my waist and just narrowly miss my breasts.

  His throaty chuckle does that weird thing to my heart, and my legs tighten around him in response. He leans back and tugs his shirt over his head, and my eyes go straight to the hard lines of his chest and stomach, and I lick my lips while staring at all the ink.