Start With Me: A Novel (Start Again Series Book 3)

by J. Saman

  “It’s still amazing to me how much younger you are than Ryan,” Luke muses. “And how much shorter.”

  “Shove it,” Kyle snaps, but now he’s smiling as I am.

  You really can’t help but love Luke, even if he is a crazy bastard.

  “I’m only four inches shorter, and Ryan is a freak of nature. People really shouldn’t be that tall.”

  “He’s six-three,” I comment dryly, crossing my arms over my chest.

  “Which is freakish tall, I maintain. Even Luke, who is a couple of inches taller than me, is shorter than him.”

  “You boys really have a thing when it comes to length.” I smirk at both of them. “Anyway, I’ve got work to do. I’ll catch ya later, Kyle.” I throw him a wink. “Later dickwad,” I say to Luke before sauntering off, away from my desk and down the hall.

  I push through the door into the restroom and go right into the stall, locking it behind me, and blowing out the breath I’ve been holding. “Shit,” I mutter to myself as I drop down onto the closed toilet seat.

  That was close.

  Chapter 14

  Kyle

  I spent the entire meeting with that HR Bridget lady thinking about what happened this morning with Claire. I can’t get it out of my mind. I keep replaying that encounter with her father over and over again, dissecting everything each of them said. No matter how hard I try, I can’t figure it out. All I know is that she’s hiding something.

  And it feels like a big something. The sort of something that pulls families apart. The sort of something you hide, even from those closest to you. Maybe I’m just being presumptuous and arrogant here, but I like to think I’m close with her. I like to think that I know her, even if the majority of our relationship, friendship, what have you, has been over the phone.

  But I didn’t know that her mother was dead.

  Last I heard, she was living in St. Louis and they didn’t talk much. So that’s news to me. And I didn’t really know she wasn’t talking to her dad. All she ever said about him was that he was in the Army forever and lives in D.C. That’s it.

  I’m not exactly sure what to make of all of this. She went into a trance-like state in the car and then talked about why the asshole thinks she’s a slut. But that’s it. Nothing about their coded hate fest this morning. Or about her mother’s illness, if that’s even what it was. And how does that relate to Claire? But even more disconcerting than that, Claire was lost in that moment and then jumped right back into her smiling, nothing-affects-me, persona. It was seamless. Effortless.

  And it scared me.

  It also made me hurt for her.

  In fact, as I sit at my new desk, in my new office, staring out the glass wall that separates me from everyone else, I can see her. She’s only two offices down. Her desk is in the main open area, which makes her visible. And that perfectly engineered smile has been plastered on her face since I came back up here this morning. Now it’s nearly the end of the day.

  I should be studying.

  I should be getting settled in.

  But I can’t seem to take my eyes off her. She talks and laughs and goes about her day like nothing happened this morning. Maybe she’s just a hell of a lot better at compartmentalizing shit than I am, but I don’t think I’d be as outwardly cool as she is now.

  “Hey,” Ryan says as he slides open the glass door to my office. “How’s it going? You getting settled in okay?”

  I plaster on a smile of my own, sitting upright and reluctantly pulling my eyes away from my brother’s beautiful assistant.

  “Yeah, I’m great,” I lie. “This office is perfect.” And it is. It’s big and modern, and bright. I have a huge desk that can adjust so that I can stand or sit to work. I have a bookcase filled with every legal text I could ever need for this job. I even have a big round table with four comfy looking chairs. No couch, though. I could use a couch.

  Ryan blows out a breath like he was truly on edge about it. “Good. That’s good,” he says, running a hand through his jet black hair.

  It really is almost comical how different we look. Ryan looks just like our mother and I look just like our father.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t around earlier, I had a meeting that just wouldn’t end. But I was thinking, if you’re up for it, that we could all go out tonight. You know,” he says, leaning against the glass frame of the wall, “to celebrate you being here.”

  “Why are you all awkward and shit?” I laugh as he narrows his eyes.

  “I don’t know,” he laughs, walking into my office and dropping his large frame into one of the chairs opposite my desk. “I guess I just really want you to be happy here and I’m not sure you are. But maybe that takes time.”

  “Dude, stop babying me. I’m not six anymore. If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t have come,” I tell him, leaning back in my chair and looking him square in the eyes. He’s not wearing his glasses today and it makes him look younger, even with that out of control beard.

  “Fine. I’ll back off.” He stands again. “A few people from the office were talking about going to a place down the street. Diamond’s Pub, I think it’s called. Katie is going to meet us there. You in?”

  “Yeah,” I tell him, standing up slipping into my suit coat that I’d thrown over the back of my chair. “I’m in.”

  Ryan laughs at me, rolling his bright green eyes. “You do know that you don’t have to wear a suit. I mean, this is Seattle. We’ve sort of perfected the art of business casual.”

  “Yeah, but I’m a lawyer and we dress to impress. It’s how our game is played.” I walk around my desk and slap him on the back before we step out into the hall. “If I was a hipster and sat in front of a computer all day writing a bunch of code, then I’d wear what you’re wearing.” He’s got on black slacks that actually look expensive and a blue-and-black plaid shirt. No tie. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows and his shoes are his old worn black Chucks. If that doesn’t scream hipster, I don’t know what does.

  Ryan tosses his heavy arm over my shoulder, a small contented smile twisting up the corner of his lips. I know that smile. Mainly because I know my brother. He’s happy I’m here. That I’m working with him. It’s what he’s wanted since I started law school. Shit, probably even before that.

  “You coming, Claire Bear?” Ryan asks as we approach her desk. Her cerulean eyes pop up from her laptop and again, she’s smiling at us. I wonder if Ryan can see through it. I doubt I would be able to. Then again, maybe this isn’t an act. Maybe her shit rolls off her back and then she’s done with it. I don’t know.

  “Call me that again and I’ll tell Kate that you told me about my surprise birthday party,” she says, standing up and grabbing her bag from the small closet behind her desk.

  Ryan groans, throwing his head back. “She really would kick my ass if she knew. Or maybe just withhold sex, which is infinitely worse.”

  “Then maybe you should watch the pet names.” Claire winks at me and we start walking to the elevator. “How was your first day?” she asks me, and I feel like I should have an answer other than good. But I don’t, because I didn’t do a whole lot other than obsess about her.

  “Good. I’m half caught up on all of the old contracts.” That part is true, but only because Claire was gone for a couple hours after lunch.

  It’s a gorgeous evening, the sun is still shining brightly and the air is sweet and clean. So unlike New York for this time of year. I liked New York and yeah, I miss it. But from the limited time I’ve spent in this city, I may in fact love it here.

  The bar is one of those outdoor types with a large patio eating area, navy umbrellas over each of the tables and a bar pressed against the glass expanse of the building. It’s fun and loud, I note as the three of us plant ourselves at a table.

  “Where’s Luke?” I ask as I peruse a menu.

  “Out with Ivy,” Claire says, and I look up at her. She’s leaning back in her seat, her eyes scanning the scene around her. “S
he finally agreed to go out on a date with him. Didn’t you notice the asshole was smiling like he got his dick sucked for breakfast today?”

  “Jesus Christ, Claire,” Ryan says with no edge in his voice, not even bothering to raise his eyes from his own menu. “I’d rather not think about Luke getting his dick sucked.”

  “And Ivy is?”

  “The woman he’s been obsessed with for over a year now.”

  I nod, having no idea who this woman is. “Okay. Then good for him, I guess. Anyway, what’s good here? I’m fucking hungry.”

  “Everything is good here,” Kate says with a smile, standing next to me. “Am I late?” she asks, landing a kiss on the corner of Ryan’s mouth and dropping into the seat next to him. Her blonde hair is piled on top of her head and she’s wearing maternity scrubs with Minnie Mouse on them.

  “No, love,” Ryan says, his eyes taking her in as he places his hand adoringly over her baby bump. “You’re right on time. We were just telling Kyle that Luke and Ivy are out on a date. And then Claire said something vulgar. Now you’re caught up.”

  Kate laughs, leaning across the table in Claire’s direction. “I cannot believe Ivy gave into him so easily,” she says with wide eyes and big smiles. “I ran into her at the hospital today and she was all grade-school girl excited about it. She also told me some other shit, but I’ll tell you about that later.”

  “Whatever,” Claire says crossing her arms over her chest and inadvertently pushing up her breasts in far too tantalizing way. “Those two are all drama. But I’m happy for them. If anything, it will make them both way more tolerable to be around. Their misery was really starting to get to me.”

  “Nothing gets to you. You’re like the I-don’t-give-a-shit poster child,” Kate says and I’m curious just how true that is. It certainly seems that way, but I’m not entirely sold. Especially when Claire’s eyes dip to the table before looking up at me first, and then Ryan, checking for our reaction to this bit of information. It’s subtle. Her movements calculated. But I catch it nonetheless. Reading body language correctly can mean the difference between destroying someone on the stand and getting your ass handed to you.

  And in case you missed it, I don’t get my ass handed to me. Ever.

  Ryan is appropriately stoic, staring at his menu for the second time, though I’d bet money he’s going to get a bourbon on the rocks and a cheeseburger. I doubt he even needed to look at the menu.

  “How are you feeling?” Ryan asks Kate, changing the subject away from Claire.

  “Good,” Kate says. “Tired. Hungry. Thirsty.” Then she leans in and whispers, not half as quietly as she thinks, “Horny.”

  “Not in front of the kids, Katie Duck,” Claire says, waving her finger back and forth between me and her.

  “Sorry,” Kate laughs. “I can’t help it. Pregnancy hormones are a bitch. And I’ve got them times two.”

  “In that case, maybe we should take our dinner to go,” Ryan says completely serious, staring intently into her eyes as a lot of unspoken things pass between them.

  “Not until you buy me dinner and a drink, Ryan,” Claire says. “I was promised food and alcohol and I intend to cash in on both.”

  “Claire?” A male voice says off to the right of her and instantly, she tenses, her eyes flying up in that direction, only to calm when she sees it’s some random guy.

  “Um. Yeah?” she laughs, clearly unsure who this guy is.

  He’s about average height and build, with a broad smile and dark eyes that are openly feasting on her. “Jamie,” he says pointing to his chest like a stupid caveman. “We hung out one night about six months ago.”

  “Oh,” she says, looking over to Kate with wide eyes and a smirk that says, I have no idea who this guy is. She turns back to him with that fake smile again. “Nice to see you again, Jamie.”

  Yeah, she has no idea who this douchebag is.

  “Yeah, so,” his eyes bounce around the table, landing on mine for beat before going back to Claire. “Do you want to get a drink with me sometime?”

  And instantly, I want to tell him to fuck off. I don’t even know where that instinct comes from, but it’s there. Rearing its ugly head. Making me slightly insane with the way he looks at her, having no doubt spent a night with her.

  I also cannot stand the way she doesn’t know him. The fact that she allowed this man not only into her bed, but into her body and has no recollection of him, is eating at me. I know Claire dates a lot. I know she probably sleeps around a lot more than she tells me.

  But I hate it.

  I fucking do.

  I hate the idea of this asswipe touching her. Or any asswipe for that matter. Maybe it’s all the bullshit from this morning, but goddammit, all I want to do right now is protect her. Keep her safe. Keep her close to me.

  None of that is an option.

  Especially when she angles her body in his direction, a flirtatious smile on her beautiful red lips and says, “What are you doing right now?”

  Chapter 15

  Claire

  Jamie’s calloused hands run up my neck until they tangle into my hair, pulling me closer to his mouth. We kiss. It’s a bit messy as we’re sloppily moving through his house. And now that I’m looking around through the corners of my eyes, I remember this place. And I remember why I didn’t stick around.

  Frat boy central. And not in a hot, filled with sexy, god-like men way. More in a, we’re too old for this shit, but we do it anyway, way. They have nasty mismatched furniture in various shades of brown and dark blue. Their floor is sticky and dirty to the point I’m afraid to take off my shoes.

  They even have a kegerator.

  Who the fuck besides college kids has something like that? I mean, can’t you just buy beer at the store like the rest of us? Do you actually drink enough to necessitate a kegorator? And if you do, what does that say?

  Nothing good, but I am in no place to judge.

  “Oh my god,” Jamie moans into my mouth, his spit actually hitting my uvula and making me gag for a half second. “You’re so fucking hot. I know I haven’t seen you in a while, but I’ve absolutely thought about you. You rocked my freaking world last time.”

  Now I remember Jamie. He talks. A lot. Like non-stop.

  It’s unbelievably annoying. And he screws like a grade-school jackrabbit with zero finesse or consideration for his partner’s enjoyment.

  He moves us across the living room, groping greedily at my breasts. It’s quite possibly one of the most unpleasant sensations I’ve experienced. In fact, it makes me think of what a mammogram must feel like. I’m a hot second away from asking him if he found any lumps.

  The door to his room opens and he walks us into it, his mouth only moving away from mine as he speaks, which seems to be every couple of seconds. His sentences are short and direct, and not at all sexy.

  “I want to put my dick everywhere you’ll let me.”

  See what I mean? Who says something like that? It’s gross. Though, I guess I do appreciate the fact that he’ll check with me before he sticks his dick somewhere I might not want it.

  “I swear, you gave me the best orgasm of my life.”

  I cannot tell him the same thing. Not even close. In fact, now that I’m thinking about it, I remember faking to get him not only to shut up, but to stop.

  And while I’ve perfected the art of escapism and he’s a willing, warm and able body, I can’t focus. I can’t get into it. It’s not even his constant blabbering, though admittedly that’s not helping. It’s not even the fact that I know he won’t even come close to rocking my world the way he says I did his.

  It’s the fact that every time I close my eyes, I see the pair of hazel eyes that stared at me as I left the bar. And even now, with my eyes closed, I’m still trying to discern exactly what that look meant. I can’t seem to figure it out. Was he angry? Apathetic? Disgusted? I honestly cannot say. But I find myself keeping my eyes closed just so I can see those swirling hues of green and brown i
nstead of looking at Jamie.

  That thought has me pulling back before I can even think about my actions.

  “What’s wrong?” Jamie asks, panting for his life, a smile on his adorable boyish face.

  The overwhelming smell of cheap cologne is permeating from his skin, enveloping me in a fog of bad decisions and misguided need. It’s not even need for him, just need to forget and escape. Avoidance has become my primary survival skill and although that has regularly taken shape in the form of mindless, meaningless sex, I can’t seem to find my rhythm tonight.

  It’s those eyes.

  They’re haunting me.

  Because the simple truth is that I’d rather look into those eyes than spend the next however long with Jamie faking pleasure. Kyle brings me pleasure without even touching me. Without even thinking about it. And he’s only been here a few days.

  That thought alone should have me grabbing Jamie by the neck and kissing him again.

  But I can’t.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, looking at him with a sheepish grin. “I, uh . . .” Crap. Should I even bother lying? “I forgot, I have—” Yeah, I’ve got nothing and find I’m laughing at myself, which is only making his dark eyes harden. “I need to go.”

  “Why? We were having fun. I want to fuck you.”

  I sigh. I get it. I led him on. But a girl can still say no, so that’s what I’m about to do. “Sorry there, honey pie, but I’m gonna have to go.”

  “The hell you are,” he snaps and this is the moment I hate. Granted, I don’t get here all that often. Usually, I get my rocks off and then run out in the middle of the night. But my head is a mess and a mass of hazel eyes.

  Those eyes . . . They’re killing me right now.

  How did he even worm his way in so fast?

  “No,” I say sternly, taking a step back and extricating myself from his now firm grip. “I am. And if you touch me again, I’ll put your ass to the floor and your nuts in your throat.”

  He doesn’t look all that impressed. Maybe it’s my size that makes me unassuming to potential assholes. He takes a step toward me with a grin that promises he’ll have me on my back under him in no time. My knee comes up, firmly striking his family jewels at just the right moment. It’s a direct hit and he stumbles back, bending forward and grabbing his junk with a howl of pain.