The Better Man (Allen Brothers Series Book 2)

by Barbie Bohrman

  “Fine, but I don’t want you to think I’m a pushover. I’m only drinking this so you can shut up for a little while.”

  “Of course,” he said with a laugh. “To our pseudo relationship.”

  “Don’t remind me,” I groaned.

  We clinked our shot glasses and without hesitating, I brought the evil alcohol up to my lips and swallowed it in one painful gulp. The back of my throat burned already with regret as Max watched me. If he had any trouble taking the shot, it didn’t show at all.

  The big jerk.

  “That was gross,” I said and licked my lips. “Never again.”

  “That’s what they all say.”

  I smiled a little and let the alcohol warm me. The vibe in the room helped to relax me, too, as well as the music.

  My phone buzzed, and as I went to pull it out of my wristlet again, Max grabbed it.

  “Give it back!”

  Max was holding it out of reach and started to read the screen. “Someone named Eddie texted you saying he’s home and to stop being such a pain in the ass all the time.”

  I froze. “He called me a pain in the ass?! I’m going to kick his ass when I get home! I mean, who the hell does that little shit think he is?! It’s just a little thing called respect. It’s not that hard is it?! But I guess for some people it’s impossible to have common decency. And our poor grandmother has been worried sick about him and he’s telling me to stop being a pain in the ass?! Unbelievable!”

  “Wow! First of all, I made up the part about being a pain the ass. But now that I see you all wound up, I’m wondering if it’s true.” He handed me back the phone with a smirk. “Relax, Daphne. Maybe you should have another drink.”

  “God, you’re such an asshole, Max.”

  “I try.”

  Scrolling through my texts, I was relieved to confirm that Max was in fact adding the whole pain in the ass part to Eddie’s text. But more to my relief was that he was home, safe and sound. And my abuela was probably lighting a candle…or ten in his name, and in my name, and in whoever else’s name she could think of before she went to bed. Hopefully the apartment wouldn’t be burnt to the ground when I got home later.

  It was just one more thing to add to my ever-growing plate of crap that was piling up by the minute. Just thinking about all the shit I had going on was exhausting. On instinct, I rolled my neck to stretch and attempt to crack it. It wouldn’t because I could feel the huge ass knot due to stress and anxiety on the left side of where my neck met my shoulder. Rolling my neck to the other side didn’t help either as it made me wince with a twinge of pain from the tightness.

  And then…

  Oh dear God in heaven.

  Hands started to rub at my shoulders and neck with such dexterity and preciseness that it must have been a dream. Or I was dead and had gone up to heaven.

  For a few blissful seconds, I was luxuriating in the feeling of being on the receiving end of the world’s best massage. But then a Max’s voice spoke in a voice as sinful and decadent as dark chocolate melting on my tongue and the spell was broken.

  “Relax, Daphne. Let me make you feel good.”

  The hell?! My body straightened and I moved at least a full body length away from him. He was chuckling at my expense.

  “Who did you think it was?” he asked while still laughing. His hands were already on the move again searching for my shoulders. And for the love of god, I wanted to let him. “I promise, I won’t bite. Hard.”

  “Hardy, har-har, Mr. Powers. Thanks, but no thanks.”

  I shouldn’t let him. Right?

  Maybe?

  Dammit, it really felt good. And I really wanted to relax just a little bit more.

  I could feel my resolve withering away with every passing second. The music, the lighting, the mood, the one shot of tequila, the way Max looked as if he was dying to get his hands on me and I wanted for just a moment to revel in that feeling no matter how much I hated him. All of it was too much for me to handle…but I was going to give in anyway.

  She was letting me touch her.

  I knew she was as shocked as I was the moment I reached up and started to massage her shoulders. But what I made look like a spur-of-the-moment decision was obviously the right one judging by the way her body instantly relaxed under my touch. And regardless that we were in the back part of this lounge with the lighting dimmed, I could see that her eyes—barely open now—had been close to rolling into the back of her head in ecstasy.

  Even though it was only my hands and only her shoulders, my skin prickled with anticipation at the thought of what she would feel like naked underneath me, skin to skin. But I also knew that I had to slow down and treat Daphne’s momentary drop of her guard with care. This is business, you idiot. Keep it that way. I had to continually remind myself while still touching her.

  My hands kept kneading her shoulders and slowly working the slope of her neck. When her head lolled to the side and then back, I scooted even closer so that she could lean against me. I could not script this whole thing any better if I tried. She was playing right into my plan perfectly. Thank god too because I was starting to freak out a little bit wondering how the fuck I was going to pull this shit off.

  Oliver wanted us to be a couple. Or wanted us to be perceived as a couple to help with ratings. There was a fine line there that I had to be very careful with. I had the brilliant idea, though, that if we were seen out and about as a couple every so often, it might be enough to help us without being “flirty,” as Oliver called it on the actual show. And I did have connections with some of the gossip columnists in the city. So, I put two and two together, got in touch with one of my contacts and asked him to meet us here. Did I tell him that Daphne and I would be this cozy? Kind of. I hadn’t known how the hell I would ever convince her. But thank god for small miracles, because I could not have planned her reaction any better if I tried. I didn’t have to sell Daphne on anything. Now I was just waiting for the guy to snap his picture so I could call it a night.

  “Oh my god, Max, are you a massage therapist or something in your free time?”

  I chuckled. “No, but thanks for the compliment. I’ll make sure to mark it down in my calendar as the first time that you have ever sung my praises.”

  “It will probably be the only time, I’m sure,” she said.

  And then I must have hit a sweet spot and time stopped.

  Because she made this almost guttural, blissful sound that had me imagining all the ways she would moan if I were inside of her. My dick was hardwired to stand up and take notice at the mere thought of fucking Daphne…or any woman, really. Who was I kidding? But the images of Daphne and I running through my head were so damn vivid, so real, that for a second I thought I could make it happen between us. More than that, I thought I wanted it to happen between us. And that just wasn’t going to work for either of us right now.

  Thankfully, I looked up and caught the photog in question who would snap our picture at that exact moment. I tipped my head a bit, acknowledging him. A little for him to know that I was okay with him taking the picture and a lot for me to put an end to what I was feeling.

  As he approached, I noticed that Daphne’s head was facing away from the camera. That wouldn’t do.

  “Hey, you’re not falling asleep are you?”

  I nudged her and she popped her head back up. All of her long brown hair came falling like a curtain between us. I took the liberty of sweeping it all to one side so that I could continue touching her and so her face would be clearly seen in the picture. God, I was a selfish bastard on so many levels.

  The photog came a little bit closer and started snapping one picture after another. I mentally patted myself on the back for the sheer genius of it all.

  And then it all went to shit.

  “What the hell was that?! What’s going on?!” Daphne shrieked. “Who are you?!”

  “Relax, I’m almost done,” the photog said to her. Then, he added, “Max this is great stuff. Pe
ople are going to eat it up Thanks for the tip, buddy.”

  “Okay, that’s enough. Thanks, Chad,” I told him.

  He stopped snapping and disappeared into the crowd of people in the lounge. The fact that Daphne hadn’t said another word and seemed as if she had been frozen to the spot was more than scary. Because in my head, alarm bells were going off letting me know of the eminent danger I was in.

  Then Daphne’s neck craned so far around that for a split second I could have sworn it would keep right on spinning like she was the fucking devil in The Exorcist. Her eyes were narrowed and she said in a low, ragged voice, “Get your hands off me, now.”

  My hands flew off of her.

  And my body, of its own volition went into self-preservation mode; I slid back over to my previous spot on the couch, giving myself at least two arm lengths away from her. Look, I was an asshole most of the time, but stupid, not so much. I knew that look in Daphne’s eyes met I was a dead man.

  “What the hell did you do, Max?” she asked, still in a deadly whisper. “You know what? Don’t bother explaining. Just shut up and look pretty, because that’s all you’re good for.”

  “Hey, there’s no need for insults.”

  She was already standing up and grabbing her tiny purse from the couch.

  “Wait a second, dammit,” I said, reaching up to take hold of her arm. That evil glare of hers was back in full force…it might have been worse this time around. To be honest, it scared the living shit out of me, so I pulled my hand back. “Daphne, please, I can explain.”

  “You can shove your explanation up your ass, Max. To think, I put my trust in you and I told you that I didn’t want to regret that decision. But here I am regretting it already. That took all of...” she dramatically looked at her phone in frustration. I had to bite my lip from laughing. “That took all of twelve hours for you to fuck me over.”

  Without waiting for me to answer her, she stormed away and into the crowd. Some of which were watching us and trying to figure out who we were. Obviously, someone recognized me because the next thing I heard being shouted out loudly for everyone to hear was, “Hey, it’s hashtag dickless, everyone!”

  “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I mumbled to myself while pushing my way through the crowd.

  Looking up ahead of me, I could still make out the back of Daphne’s head. She was barreling through the crowd like a freaking bull in a china shop. Not bothering to stop for anyone in her way.

  I shouted after her. But she didn’t turn around. And I knew she freaking heard me, too. Because for all of a split second she hesitated. My heart started to beat like a trombone thinking she was going to stop and listen to me explain, but no dice. Instead of stopping, she hooked a quick right and side-stepped some poor bastard who was standing in her way, double fisted with beer bottles, a huge smile on his face, and a t-shirt that said, Harambe loved Christmas too.

  It was the stupid shirt that grabbed my attention away from Daphne. It was just so ridiculous that I slowed down long enough to do a double take. Once I read it and then looked up again to catch up to her, she was long gone.

  “Fucking hipsters ruin everything,” I said under my breath in a long drawn out sigh.

  Running a hand though my hair in frustration, I was at a loss as to what I should do next. Should I keep trying to run after her? Should I text her to explain myself? Should I just wait to see her in the morning and tell her all about it then?

  I was one hundred positive that with any of those scenarios it wouldn’t matter one goddamn bit. Daphne was going to hate me regardless at this rate. And I hated her too. Or I was supposed to. I mean, she was my sworn enemy, right?

  Damn, I felt like something was wrong or broken inside of me. Because with everything that happened here tonight, my usual asshole self had reached a level of assholedom the likes of which I had never thought possible to attain. And what was worse was that I actually felt bad about it. That feeling was completely new to me, and I didn’t like that one bit.

  My phone was buzzing before my alarm was buzzing.

  In my world, that was never a good sign.

  Whoever was trying to get in touch with me wouldn’t stop until they got me. Rolling over as unwillingly as possible, I blindly patted around my nightstand until hitting pay dirt. My cellphone was still buzzing when I hit the accept button without even looking.

  “Who the fuck is this and why are you calling me at…” pulling the phone away from my face, I squinted my eyes to make out the time on the top of the screen. “You’re calling me at barely five o’clock in the morning. This better be a fucking emergency.”

  “This is Sam White from The Post. Would you like to comment on your relationship with your new co-host, Daphne Rodriguez?”

  My eyes flew wide open and I shot up in my bed.

  “You’re who from where and you want to know what exactly?”

  As the guy cleared their throat, my phone buzzed in my hand. This Sam person was blabbing away when I was received another call from an unknown number. Fuck me.

  “Hold on a second.” I clicked over to the other call. “Hello, who is this?”

  “Is this Max Allen?”

  “Yeah, who the hell is this?”

  “This is Audrey Locke from Daily News. Can you give us a quote about your relationship with a Ms. Rodriguez? She’s your new co-host, right?”

  My brain was maybe a little slow this early in the morning but I was quick on my feet with this kind of stuff since I had been dealing with it for as long as I can remember. My nickname of Max-A-Million came from society reporters, so it wasn’t anything new for me.

  “No comment, thanks.”

  I clicked back to the other call and told them the same thing. Damn, that Chad worked fast with getting the word and those pictures out to the public. He must have loaded them within minutes if The Post and The Daily News were already looking for confirmation for their gossip pages. After silencing my phone completely, I tossed it onto the sea of blankets; out of sight, out of mind and tried to get a little more sleep before I had to be in the office in four hours.

  That idea lasted all of two seconds, because if these reporters had tracked me down and were calling me this early for a comment, you can bet your sweet ass that they had tracked down a certain Ms. Daphne Rodriguez from Queens just as quickly.

  “I’m in so much trouble,” I said. “Shit, shit, shit!”

  Jackknifing out of the bed, I fished my phone out from under the comforter to try and get in touch with Daphne. I called her first, cringing at how early it was. It went straight to voicemail anyway. Shooting off a quick text to her before I jumped into the shower, I hoped she would at least text me back by the time I was finished.

  Still dripping wet from the shower, I checked my phone one more time. But there was nothing from her. Radio silence. “Dammit, Daphne.”

  My phone buzzed in my hand and scared the living shit out of me. Without looking, I answered thinking it must be her, finally. “Thank God you called me back! Listen I know you’re pissed at me and I’m an asshole, but we need to figure this out now. We’ve got a problem and—”

  “Trouble in paradise already, Max? Tsk-tsk. And here I was wondering what poor woman existed to reform the despicable Max Allen. Guess that answers my question.”

  “Ava, is that you?”

  “Hello, Max, darling. So good of you to remember me,” she drawled.

  Ava Lynch ran a gossip website that was the end-all-be-all of New York City. Celebrity types and trust fund babies couldn’t do shit around this city without Ava and her people finding out about it. She was as cunning as a fox and mean as a snake. She could eat you up and spit you out, all before lunch. She had the power to convince anyone who would listen that so-and-so was the greatest thing since sliced bread. Ava also had the power to fuck you over the moment you screwed up….and made sure everyone knew about it. That saying about how with great power came great responsibility? Yeah, Ava Lynch lived and breathed i
t.

  Also, she hated me.

  Then again, she hated everyone, so whatever.

  “Of course I remember you, Ava. How could I forget? What are you up to these days?”

  “Same ol’ same ol’, Max darling. I see you’ve been busy. Again.” Ava sounded as if she was almost just as amused as she was bored with everything in her life. “Must be hard to keep them straight sometimes.”

  “No, it’s nothing like that.”

  Panicked, I was running around my bedroom now semi-naked looking for anything clean to throw on. Forget the other newspaper fact-checkers, if Ava was calling me to confirm all of this crap with Daphne, I was in deep shit. Scratch that. Daphne and I were both in deep shit.

  “So it’s true then? Max Allen, one of New York City’s most eligible bachelors is settling down?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far, Ava.”

  “Then how far would you go?” she purred. “Anything on the record?”

  My mind was racing while I tried to figure out what I could comment with that wouldn’t cost me my balls, courtesy of Daphne. Because I kind of liked my balls. I especially liked how they were attached to my body. And I liked to keep my balls that way.

  I decided to roll the dice and hope that I would hit snake eyes with Ava, yes, but more importantly with Daphne. This whole mess I had found myself in, had to be handled with kid gloves now. One little misstep, and I could kiss my ass…and probably balls…goodbye.

  “Fine, I’ll go on the record and say that I’m very happy at the moment.”

  Ava sneered. “That’s all you got, Max-A-Million? You’re happy?”

  “I said I’m very happy. There’s a difference.”

  “Fine, as if that one little adverb will make a difference to my followers.” Ava’s nails could be heard over the line clacking away impatiently making a scale up and down, up and down like she was bored to tears with me. “Fair warning, my darling Max, I’ll be back for more.”