On Dublin Street (9781101623497)

by Young, Samantha

  I doubted that. Ellie could wear a trash bag and still look cute. “When do you pick them up?”

  “Next week.” She grinned suddenly. “So? How was dinner?”

  “Your brother tricked me. It was just us two.”

  Ellie snorted. “Typical Braden. Did you have fun though?”

  “Other than meeting an obviously ex-girlfriend of Braden’s, who seemed perfectly pleasant if a little clueless as she inadvertently told me about Braden’s ex-wife, then yeah.” I shrugged nonchalantly. “We had fun.”

  Ellie gasped, drawing my gaze back to her. Anxiety clouded her pale eyes as she stood up and walked over cautiously to sit next to me. “I would have told you, Jocelyn, but Braden wanted to tell you himself. And it’s personal for him. I wish I could explain but it really is his business.”

  I waved her off. “It’s okay. He told me about Analise. How she cheated on him.”

  Ellie’s eyebrows drew together. “He told you?”

  Was he not supposed to? “Yeah.”

  She sat there for a moment seeming frozen and then something in her eyes softened as she smiled at me. “He told you.”

  Oh God, she was getting romantic ideas in her head again. “Stop.”

  “What?” Her eyes grew huge with pretend innocence.

  I made a face. “You know what.”

  Before Ellie could respond our front door opened and slammed shut. Heavy footsteps tread down the hall towards us.

  “Oh crap,” I muttered, ignoring Ellie’s questioning eyes.

  The door to the sitting room swung open and there he was in his suit, leaning against the doorjamb, expression blank.

  “Hey, Braden,” Ellie greeted weakly, sensing the sudden danger in the air.

  “Afternoon, Els.” He nodded at her and then pinned me to the couch with his lethal blue gaze. “Bedroom. Now.” He turned on his heel and left me to follow.

  I gaped open-mouthed.

  “What did you do?” Ellie whispered worriedly.

  I shot her a look. “I snuck out of his place this morning.”

  Her eyes widened. “Why?”

  Already feeling inexplicably guilty, my guilt transformed quickly into anger. “Because that’s what fuck buddies do,” I snapped, jumping off the couch. “And he needs to stop ordering me around.” I stomped—yes, stomped—into my bedroom and slammed the door shut behind me, chest heaving with indignation. “You need stop ordering me around.” I pointed my finger at him.

  The blank expression he’d been wearing as he stood at the bottom of my bed was quickly replaced by displeasure. That was putting it nicely. He was pissed. “You need to stop acting like a fucking headcase.”

  I drew in a sharp breath. “What the hell did I do?”

  He looked incredulous, throwing his hands up in disbelief. “You snuck out of my flat like I was some drunken lay you were ashamed of.”

  He couldn’t have been more wrong. I crossed my arms over my chest, a protective measure, as I shook my head and refused to meet his gaze.

  “You want to disabuse me of that notion and tell me exactly why I got out of the shower this morning to find you’d buggered off?”

  “I-I had stuff to do.”

  Braden grew scarily quiet. “You had stuff to do?”

  “Yup.”

  “You know until this moment, you’ve never really acted your age. I thought you were more mature than this, Jocelyn. I guess I was wrong.”

  “Oh don’t pull that crap,” I replied irritably. “I’m not the one getting my knickers in a twist because my fuck buddy didn’t stick around for a cuddle in the morning.”

  At the flash of something in his eyes, I felt my stomach drop. The look was gone as fast as it appeared and his features hardened against me. “Fine. It’s done. Forget about it. I need you to get Saturday, two weeks from now, off. I’ve got DJ Intrepid, a famous DJ from London, playing at Fire for Freshers week,” his rumbling voice sounded detached, empty, and all that distance was directed at me. I didn’t like it. “I want you there.”

  I nodded numbly. “Okay.”

  “Okay then. I’ll text you later.” He strode toward me and I waited tensely for his next move. He didn’t even look at me. Just reached for the door and brushed past me.

  He didn’t kiss me goodbye.

  I felt sick. Now who was making things complicated?

  * * *

  Dr. Pritchard took a sip of water and then cocked her head at me once I stopped talking. “Has it occurred to you that you may be developing deeper feelings for Braden?”

  I sighed heavily. “Of course it has. I’m not stupid.”

  “And yet, you’re determined to stay in this arrangement with him knowing and championing its end?”

  My smile was definitely without humor. “Okay . . . maybe I’m a little stupid.”

  * * *

  I know I’m hardheaded. I get that about myself. I know I have issues a mile long, and I know those issues aren’t going away any time soon. But living these last few months on Dublin Street, with a little help from the good doctor, I was able to see myself in a different light. I had been convinced I had no real attachments in this life because that’s the way I wanted it. Slowly, but surely, I was coming to terms with the fact that Rhian and James were an attachment, and Ellie was definitely an attachment. I might not want to care about them, but I did. And with caring comes all kinds of crappy stuff . . . like remorse.

  I apologized to Ellie for snapping at her. She, of course, accepted it graciously.

  But all day, I was plagued by guilt and I kept seeing Braden’s face flash before my eyes. That guilt brought back some bad shit, and I found myself locked in the bathroom, seeing myself through a pretty awful panic attack.

  You see, I’d realized something. Something terrifying.

  It might just be sex with Braden, but that didn’t mean I hadn’t formed an attachment to him.

  I might not want to care about him, but I did.

  That’s why, as I was leaving for work, I sent him a text that said something I had never said to a guy before.

  I’m sorry x

  You have no idea how fast my pulse was racing after I added the kiss. One little kiss and my hands were shaking.

  * * *

  Craig and Jo were not happy with me that night. I messed up a couple of orders, spilled half a bottle of Jack and knocked over the tips jar into the spillage getting a couple of notes wet. When I checked my phone on break and still hadn’t received a text back from Braden, I gave myself a good talking to.

  I could not turn into an inept idiot because some guy hadn’t accepted my apology. I had shown some real growth sending that text, I nodded angrily to myself, and if he couldn’t see that, then fine! To hell with him. I was Joss Butler. I took no shit from no man.

  I returned to work feeling defiant and determined, and I managed to do my job without any more incidents. I explained away my clumsiness, telling the guys I’d had a migraine but was feeling much better. They swallowed that since I started joking around with them like normal, doing what I had always been good at, and shoving my feelings down under the steel trapdoor inside of me.

  Holding onto this was key, because one slip, one crack and that door would come flying open again and I just . . . well, I just couldn’t handle that.

  We finished up the night and Jo and Craig kindly offered to let me go early since I ‘hadn’t been feeling well’. I wasn’t going to argue. I grabbed my stuff and said goodbye to Brian at the door and headed up the steps onto George Street.

  “Jocelyn.”

  I spun around and found Braden standing on the sidewalk by the club. My stomach was back to churning again. We stared at each other silently for a minute until I found my voice. “You were waiting on me?”


  He smiled a little as he approached. “Thought I could walk you home?”

  Relief I wasn’t willing to admit to for too long poured over me, and I grinned up at him. “Does that walk happen to conclude with us naked in my bed together?”

  His laughter was low, rough, and it floored me like always. “That’s what I had in mind, yes.”

  I took a deep breath. “I’m forgiven for being a bitch then?”

  “Babe.” Braden reached out to stroke my cheek, clearly forgiving me.

  I tugged on his jacket, pulling him closer. “I think you should show me who’s boss anyway.”

  His arms wrapped around my waist and I found myself snuggled up against him. “I thought you told me I was to stop bossing you around.”

  “Well there are special circumstances where I’d allow it.”

  “Oh? What would those be?”

  “Any that results in me coming.”

  He grinned, squeezing me closer. “Why do you have to make everything sound so dirty?”

  I laughed, remembering those were the words he’d used the day he’d walked in on me naked. God, it felt like a lifetime ago.

  Chapter 17

  With a lot of sex and laughter that weekend, Braden and I closed the breach between us. I worked, Braden worked, and then on Sunday, Elodie and Clark took the kids to St. Andrews for the day so Ellie, Braden and I hung out with Adam, Jenna and Ed. It was the first time Braden and I were out in a social situation with other people since starting our arrangement. I knew as soon as we walked into Ed’s favorite pub on the Royal Mile for lunch that everyone was now aware of our arrangement. Jenna stared at us like we were a science experiment and Ed had this stupid little boy grin on his face. Adam actually winked at me. I swear to God I would have fled the premises if Braden hadn’t anticipated it and grasped my arm to pull me forward. Once they realized nothing had really changed—we weren’t a couple, there was no handholding or fondling, and our chairs were, in fact, pretty far apart—the guys just acted like normal. We had a great lunch, a few beers, and then hit the movies together. Braden did take the seat next to me in the theatre and okay . . . there may have been fondling in the dark.

  We didn’t see each other on Monday, so I actually managed to write another chapter of my book and squeeze in a visit with Dr. Pritchard. That was fun. Tuesday, Braden took his lunch break in my bed. Wednesday he got caught up with work so I didn’t see him at all. I spent the night with Ellie, enduring a teen romance that actually made my teeth hurt it was so sweet. I insisted next movie night we watch something or someone get maimed by an action star or put on a Gene Kelly movie.

  “You’re such a boy.” Ellie wrinkled her nose as she chewed on chocolate buttons.

  I glanced away from the sickly sweet romance to look at her across the room. She was sprawled over the couch, covered in chocolate wrappers. How did she not put on weight? “Because I hate cheesy romance?”

  “No. Because you’d rather watch someone get pummeled than declare their love.”

  “True.”

  “Boy.”

  I made a face. “I think Braden would disagree.”

  “Ugh. That was mean.”

  I grinned wickedly. “You called me a dude.”

  She turned her head on a cushion to look back at me. “Speaking of . . . Not that I wanted to notice—I can’t help my exceptional observational skills—but you seem to be doing whatever you guys are doing on Braden’s schedule? You okay with that?”

  It wasn’t that I hadn’t noticed that myself. But seriously, how could I argue with it? I ‘worked’ from home, and Braden worked all the time. When I did work, it was on two of the only nights Braden was free. “He’s a busy guy. I get that.”

  Ellie nodded. “A lot of his girlfriends resented it.”

  “I resent being called his girlfriend,” I warned her teasingly.

  “I never called you his girlfriend. I just meant . . . actually, you know what, I don’t know what I meant because you two boggle my mind.”

  I could tell she was getting ready to work her overly romantic self into a conniption over me and Braden, so I quickly changed the subject. “You haven’t said much about Adam lately.”

  My roommate’s face fell and I wished I’d picked another subject to change my subject from. “We’ve barely spoken since that Sunday at Mum’s. I think he realized he was sending mixed signals so he’s just completely backed off.”

  “I didn’t notice anything weird between you last Sunday when we were hanging out.”

  “That’s because you were in Braden Land.”

  I guffawed. “Yeah, okay.”

  Ellie shook her head. “Delusional numpty.”

  That was a new one. I couldn’t remember Rhian or James ever calling me that. “Did you just call me a numpty?”

  “Yup. A delusional one.”

  “What, may I ask, is a numpty?”

  “A person demonstrating a lack of knowledge of a situation; a silly person; an idiot; a dumbass. A delusional numpty: Joss Butler’s stupid, idiotic, blind misconception of the true nature of her relationship with my brother, Braden Carmichael.” She glowered at me, but it was an Ellie glower so it didn’t really count.

  I nodded my head. “Numpty. Good word.”

  She threw a cushion at me.

  * * *

  When Thursday rolled around and I got a text from Braden to tell me he couldn’t make it that night, I have to admit to a teensy little bit of disappointment. I couldn’t admit to being hugely disappointed because I’d stuffed that emotion under my steel trap door. He was in the final stages of closing a deal on the development he’d been working on this summer so I understood. It didn’t mean it didn’t suck.

  I dug deep and wrote the entire day away, amazed and gratified that I’d managed to write a few more chapters without having to open up the memories that were sure to send me back into the bathroom with a panic attack. Although, admittedly, I hadn’t had one of those since the epic attack last Friday.

  Thursday night with no Braden to keep me busy, I let Denzel ease my pain with a Denzel Washington marathon. Ellie gave up two movies in and went to her bed. A few hours later I was out.

  I woke up as I felt the world drop beneath me. “What?” I mumbled, my eyes trying to adjust to the dim light.

  “Shh, babe,” Braden’s low voice rumbled above me, and I realized I was in his arms. “I’m putting you to bed.”

  I sleepily wrapped my arms around his neck as he carried me towards my bedroom. “What are doing here?”

  “Missed you.”

  “Mmm,” I mumbled, burying deeper into him. “Missed you too.”

  A second later I was out.

  * * *

  One minute I was dreaming the world was flooding, the water rising inside our apartment with no way out, my panic growing deeper and deeper as the water crept up towards the ceiling, leaving me waiting on imminent death, when a bolt of lust shot between my legs and I looked down to see a gorgeous merman’s head there. The water drained away in an instant and I was flat on my back with the faceless merman who was now just man and he was licking away at me with gusto.

  “Oh God,” I breathed, sensation ripping through me and pulling me with it into consciousness.

  My eyes flew open. I was in my bed. It was morning.

  And Braden’s head was between my legs.

  “Braden,” I murmured, relaxing against the mattress, my hands sliding into his soft hair. He had the most magical tongue.

  My hips jerked as he sucked at my clit, his tongue circling it, his fingers sliding inside me. I lost control of my breathing, my heart pounding in my ears, and I was coming around his mouth in seconds.

  Talk about a wake-up call.

  My muscles sunk into the bed as Braden crawled up my
body, his eyes smiling down at me as he braced himself above me. I could feel his hard on rub against my wet center. “Morning, babe.”

  I caressed his waist, scoring my nails lightly across his skin in a way I knew he liked. “Morning to you, too. And what a happy morning it is.”

  He laughed at my goofy grin and fell off me to lie at my side. I turned to check the clock but my eyes caught on the object on my desk. I bolted upright, staring at it, wondering if I was actually seeing right. I felt Braden at my back and his chin came down on my shoulder.

  “Do you like it?”

  A typewriter. A shiny, black, old-fashioned typewriter sat on my desk beside my laptop. It was beautiful. It was just like the one my mom had promised to buy me. Just like the one I’d told Braden my mom had promised to buy me. The one she didn’t buy me because she’d died before she could.

  This was an amazing gift. A thoughtful, beautiful gift. And it was more than sex.

  I felt the pressure on my chest before I could do anything to stop it, my brain fogging up like it too was too full. The tingles exploded across my skin as my heart galloped out of control.

  “Jocelyn,” Braden’s worried voice penetrated the fog, and I reached for his hand to reassure him. “Breathe,” he murmured in my ear, his hand squeezing mine, his other on my hip, holding me into him.

  I breathed in and out in rhythm, taking back control, letting my lungs open, my heart rate slow, my brain unfog itself. Exhausted, I leaned back into Braden’s chest.

  After a minute or two, Braden spoke, “I know you don’t want to talk about why you’re taking these panic attacks, but . . . do they happen a lot?”

  “Sometimes. More lately.”

  He sighed and my body moved as his chest moved. “Maybe you should talk to someone about them?”

  I pulled away from him, unable to look at him. “I already am.”

  “You are?”

  I nodded, hiding behind my hair. “A therapist.”

  His voice was quiet. “You’re seeing a therapist?”

  “Yeah.”

  My hair was brushed back behind my ear, his fingers gliding along my jaw to turn my face to his. His eyes were kind, concerned. Understanding. “Good. I’m glad you’re talking to someone at least.”