by Tessa Teevan
“Least I could do for my favorite cousin.”
He scoffs.
“Now tell me, Branson. To what do I owe this extreme pleasure? You rarely venture out of Nashville unless you have no choice. So what is it my uncle wants me to do now?”
He grins. “You’re too smart to be a Wellington. Are you sure you’re not some other man’s bastard?”
I glance at the framed photograph of my parents, who are grossly in love. I’m the spitting image of my dad, who’s been hounding me more for a grandchild than my own mom. As I’m nearing thirty-one, I’ve only heard that it’s time to settle down and start a family of my own two hundred or so times in the last year.
“If my mother ever heard you say that, she’d whip you,” I remind him before taking a sip of my drink.
Branson was right. Liquid heaven indeed, especially when one’s cock has been so neglected.
That thought gives me an idea. I haven’t wanted anyone since the night Alyssa and I spent together. I haven’t even spent time looking for anyone I might’ve wanted. That ends tonight. No more moping. No more sulking. If fate wanted me to find Alyssa, it would’ve done so by now. Hell, she knows my name. She knows where I live and work. If Alyssa wanted to find me, she’d have done so. Might as well forget the best night of my life and start searching for one to replace it.
Never gonna happen.
I push the thought into the recesses of my mind. “Forget it. I don’t give a damn why you’re here. I’m just glad you are. I’m in a dry spell and I need to go the fuck out and get laid.”
“A dry spell? Do tell, Shane,” he says, leaning forward.
For some reason, I find myself wanting to tell someone about her, after all this time. And who better than Branson, who’s been seeking his own angel since last December? In fact, the only reason I’ve kept this from him in the first place is so he didn’t feel guilty for pulling me away.
“I met a girl,” I say simply, as if those four words explain everything.
“Succinct. I like the way you get straight to the point. So this girl. Let me see. She’s a virgin and saving herself for marriage, hence the dry spell?”
I roll my eyes.
“Of course, of course. You’re too smart to fall for a gold-digging bunny. If only you’d passed those smarts on to me,” he says, raising his glass.
We toast to what I’m guessing is his divorce from said gold-digging bunny.
Branson’s thumb taps the edge of his glass. “Hmm. Well, that’s about all the knowledge I have of the female population. So, enlighten me. What’s with the new girl and the dry spell?”
I do what he’s asked and tell him everything, from seeing Alyssa when she checked in to being on the beach and spotting her walking along the sand. And I tell him about the hot tub, but I skim over the details about us spending the night together, giving him just enough without spelling it all out.
Contrary to popular belief, any self-respecting man doesn’t fuck and tell. Much.
Then I tell him about the morning after, when a dutifully respectful employee outed me before I could tell Alyssa the full truth. It turns out I don’t even get to the part where he interrupted before he curses under his breath.
Branson stands, takes both of our glasses, refills them, then returns to his seat. He studies me for a moment, his head cocked to the side as if I’m some sort of exotic specimen he can’t quite figure out.
“You’re telling me you met a girl at the resort in the panhandle. Had the best sex of your life with said girl, who turned out to be a virgin, and yet you still had the best night of your life.” He pauses, glancing at me.
I nod with a sigh, not sure why he has to spell it all out again.
“Then she found out you weren’t merely the pool boy and was angry you hadn’t been honest about having money?”
I throw a hand into the air. “Basically. Except it wasn’t about the money, I don’t think. It was more that I’d misrepresented myself after she’d trusted me.”
Branson drinks. “She’d known you for mere hours before you got into her bed?”
I don’t correct him even though it was a much shorter timeframe. “It wasn’t like that, Branson. We just… I don’t know. We had this instant connection. It’s nothing I’ve ever felt before.”
He stares at me for a moment then rests back against the chair, slumping down. “Good God, not you, too.”
I frown. “What?”
He runs his hands over his face and groans before giving me a pointed look. “I thought we were bachelors together. Brothers-in-arms. Wingmen.”
“Branson, you’re rarely in the city, and I have a feeling you haven’t been laid in a lot longer time than I have.”
“Can you blame me? Megan put me off pussy for so long. Not to mention I’ve been terrified to get my dick wet again for fear I’ll be banging another one of my brother’s girls and accidentally marrying her, too.”
It’s not that I want to kick a horse when he’s down, but I can’t help my response. “You know, I tried talking you out of marrying her, if you recall.”
“I thought I was doing what was best for the family. Just the beginning in a long string of bad decisions. But it doesn’t matter anymore. Without me, Knox wouldn’t have Charlie, so at the end of the day, everyone should be thanking me for taking one for the team.”
I chuckle. “I hear Cohen’s down for the count as well.”
Branson groans. “God, Shane. I thought Knox and Charlie were too much. But Cohen? He’s the reason for the saying ‘lighting up when his woman walks into the room.’ It’s disgusting, the way he fawns over her. Sure, she’s pretty. Hell, she’s gorgeous if you like the twenty-two-year-old fiery-redheaded siren type…” He pauses and looks up at me. “Never tell Cohen I said that. In fact, never tell anyone that.”
“So you’re here because there’s too much love up in Belle Meade and you need a break.”
Raising his glass, he smiles with wicked intent. “Looks like we’ve both got dry spells to break.”
I raise my own. “Don’t worry, Branson. Tonight, I’ll nudge all the fiery redheaded sirens in your direction.”
He rolls his eyes then reels back. Confusion crosses his features. “Wait a minute. If you’ve found this great woman, what’s with the dry spell, and what’s with looking for randoms?”
I sigh. “When she found out I was a Wellington, she was pissed. I think. I had to leave quickly, and I asked her to wait for me. Suffice it to say, she didn’t.”
Something unreadable crosses Branson’s features, and he stands. With his hands balled into fists, he presses them against the desk, leaning in close and staring at me. “Shane, I’m only going to say this once. You find a girl who doesn’t care you’re a Wellington, you don’t go finding randoms. You do whatever the fuck you have to do to find this girl, and then you fucking marry her.”
As if I hadn’t already thought that.
Like I said, I’d wanted to respect her wishes. Now? Not even a little.
Branson only slightly helps me keep my mind off Alyssa over the weekend. Even when we visit our favorite city nightlife spots, it’s apparent neither of us is into it. No free drinks for the ladies—hell, not even second glances. And first ones are usually an accident. So, after an uneventful Friday night, we spend Saturday and Sunday lounging in my condo, watching football, drinking beer, and eating like a couple of frat boys. Yeah, I love to cook, but I’m too busy wallowing in self-pity to even poach an egg. Branson’s lucky I care enough to order takeout.
By Monday morning, we just shake our heads at each other.
“I can’t fucking believe it. I don’t even know this girl, but because of her, I just spent all weekend with your sorry ass instead of chasing some.”
Branson’s comment has me grinning and then reflecting. I run a hand through my hair. “Fuck, man. Looks like we’re in the same boat.” I snap my fingers. “You know what? I blame Grandma Kate. All that Wellington Way bullshit she fed my mom.”
>
He barks out a laugh. “Your mom bought into it. Amelia? She barely raised us three on that motto. You know it took Dad a year and a whole lot of groveling before she agreed to even go on a second date with him.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m just going to throw myself into work for a while. I don’t need distractions anyway. I have too much on my plate, and with both our dads ready to retire? Everyone’s going to be eagle-eyed where we’re concerned.”
Branson sobers. He places a hand on my shoulder and stares at me. “Hey, we’re a team in this, you know? I need you at the financial helm for this goddamn Filiatrault bullshit as much as anybody. But it goes further than that. When I’m CEO, you’re going to be my right hand. I need you at your A game for as long as you still want to work for the company. In the meantime, we can’t let these girls get into our heads, okay?”
I always thought I’d be Branson’s number two, but he’s never actually confirmed it until now. I’m fucking touched. “Yeah, man, you got it. You can count on me for anything. All I need is a nice long run to get my head on straight.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, you and me both. I’ll be in and out of the city while we’re working on this deal, so I’ll give you a call next time I’m headed back down. Won’t be long.”
“You got it, bro. And remember, you can always crash at my place.”
Half an hour later, I stand outside the high-rise building, staring up as the sun reflects off the windows. Wellsley-Callahan isn’t a building I find myself entering often, but desperate times call for drastic measures.
“Hey, just the man I wanted to see.”
I turn at the sound of the feminine voice. A grin crosses my lips at the sight over my sunglasses: a pretty, petite brunette coming up to my side.
“Somehow, I doubt that’s true,” I tell her.
She laughs, and the sound is musical. No wonder Sawyer locked her down as soon as he could. “We haven’t seen you at the club in a while. You’re usually there every weekend.”
I shrug, sliding my shades back up. It’s one thing for Branson to know I’m down in the dumps over a woman. It’s another thing for the rest of Atlanta to know. “You’re engaged to a CFO, sweetheart. You know how busy we can be. Especially when we’re trying to land a humungous merger.”
Cheyenne Hamilton, a quick-witted marketing genius, gives me a knowing smile. “Is that why you’re here, Wellington? Scoping out the competition?”
I make a show of looking around. “What? Wait? Where? There’s competition? Why hasn’t anyone told me?”
She’s still smiling when I look back at her. “You really are such a peach,” she drawls and then places a hand on her hip. “What are you doing here?”
“Came to see your man, Cheyenne,” I tease.
“Well, then. By all means, you came to the right place. And you’re lucky I found you. His assistant wouldn’t ever let you past if you didn’t have me for an escort.”
She places her hands around my arm, and we walk into enemy territory—at least for me. On the elevator ride, we make small talk, which is mostly her updating me on the latest eligible bachelorettes she’d love to introduce me to.
Not. Gonna. Happen.
It’s killing me not to ask her about Alyssa, but I’m not ready to play my hand yet. I know precisely what Sawyer would think, even if he knows better. Plus, it seems like cheating if I ask about her. Now, if I just so happen to run into her? Well, then who could blame me then?
“Look what the cat dragged in, honey,” she calls to the man sitting behind the desk.
Dark eyes glance up then narrow upon falling on me. “What the hell do you want?”
“Good morning to you, too. I would’ve thought Cheyenne would help you work on your sunny disposition.”
“You’re right. Where are my manners?” He stands, placing both fists on the desk. “What do you want?”
I hold up my hands. “What’s with the hostility, Callahan? I thought we were friends.”
Sawyer’s scowl turns into a lop-sided grin. “My bad, man. It’s just been a long week. What brings you here? I don’t think I’ve seen a Wellington in this building since…well, ever.”
I run a hand across the back of my neck. “Oh, it’s nothing important. I was just passing by and realized I’d forgotten to ask if you were okay with the thousand-dollar buy-in for fantasy football this year?”
Nice one, Shane. Real quick on your feet.
His gaze narrows. “It’s June. We have three months until the season starts.”
I clear my throat. “Oh, of course. Right. It’s just, I’m trying to make sure so I don’t have to find anyone last minute.”
Much better.
Sawyer opens up a drawer, enters a code into a box, then pulls out a stack of dollar bills. He counts out ten Benjamins, then holds them out for me.
“Great, glad to see you’re still in the game. I’ll just… I’ll be on my way.”
Just as I’m about to walk out, his voice stops me. “Shane.”
I turn, an eyebrow raised.
“It’s been too long since we golfed. Change that.”
I nod. Then Cheyenne follows me down the hall and steps into the elevator with me.
“Seriously, Shane, let me find you a woman so we can double date.”
“I’m not on the market, Cheyenne. If I decide to be, you’ll be the first to know.”
She’s about to protest, but I’m saved by the chime of the elevator.
The moment the doors opens, my eyes are transfixed on the backside of a slender woman walking through the turnstiles and out one of the revolving doors. I bolt out of the elevator, surprising Cheyenne.
“Shane?” she questions, but I ignore her.
I see her. I know her.
I know that ass.
I know the curve of that neck.
I know that the sudden unease in my chest, the hammering of my heart, is because I’ve done it. I’ve finally found her.
But, when I round the corner, I’m greeted by a sea of faces and I cannot find hers.
Cheyenne catches up to me, panting from chasing after me. “Goodness, Shane. What’s gotten into you?”
“I saw a woman I haven’t seen in far too long. It was her. I swear it.” I’m still scanning the crowd.
Cheyenne’s fingers wrap around my arm, gripping my skin. “Who was she? Is she?” she asks.
I glance down at her. “The reason I don’t want to be set up with any of the women you mentioned.”
She must see the expression on my face, because she moves in front of me, staring up at me. “I don’t know if you know the details about Sawyer and me. We were together once, when we were young. You know where we found each other again?”
My brow furrows. “I haven’t the slightest clue.”
“Here,” she insists. “In this very lobby. And look how it’s turned out for us. You’ll find her, Shane. I’ll do everything I can to help. I just need her name.”
It’s another typical Monday morning at the office. Bryan and I woke up at the ungodly hour of five a.m. to go for a five-mile run. Before him, I hadn’t seen the waking side of five a.m. in, well, ever. But a girl likes to eat, and a girl loves her pencil skirts, so early morning runs it is.
We’ve already been at the office for nearly four hours when Bryan declares he’s starving. Not a surprise because he’s always starving. The moment he mentions the café down the street, my mouth is watering, I’m grabbing my purse, and we’re off.
When we’re exiting the building, I feel eyes in the back of my head. And once I’ve turned to look, my heart doesn’t know whether to race or stop entirely. After the first two months of Shane respecting my wishes, I stopped looking for him around every corner. Now that I’ve seen him? My heart can’t handle it.
“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God,” I echo, too shocked to even care that I sound like a broken record.
I must look like an idiot, crouched behind a giant bush just outside the Wellsley-Callahan building.
Idiot or not, Bryan crouches next to me, his mouth hanging open in surprise.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Bryan. I…” I stand up, peering over the bush, then duck down as soon as I see Shane surveying the hustle and bustle of lunchtime in downtown Atlanta.
A light bulb must go off in Bryan’s head. “Are you kidding me? Seriously. Are you freaking kidding me? This is like déjà vu.”
I frown at him. “Umm, what?”
He rolls his eyes. “Cheyenne. Long, long story short: Cheyenne and Sawyer had a thing before she went off to Cali for college. Yadda, yadda. They lost touch for, I don’t know, six or eight years? Anyways, our first day at WC, lo and behold, meet your new CFO, ladies and gents. I thought Cheyenne was going to pass out, and I didn’t even know anything about the guy. We leave for lunch, he chases her in the lobby, she runs away.”
“No one was chasing me.”
He raises an eyebrow. “But you were running.”
I blow out a breath, which pushes my bangs out of my face. “I saw someone back there that I’d rather avoid.”
He doesn’t say a word, but I can see the curiosity crossing his features.
“Remember how I came home from Florida early?”
Bryan nods. “Yeah, you said something about your sister getting food poisoning.”
I wince, hating the lie. “It wasn’t true.”
His eyebrows rise. “Oh, really? What was it?”
“I met a guy… And, well, before I knew it, he was in my bed.”
“Oooh, that bad?” he asks, giving me a sympathetic grimace.
“No!” I will myself to calm down. “No, it was perfect. Really…”
His expression is skeptical, and it’s not surprising. “Uh huh. If it was so perfect, what sent you packing?”
“Turns out he lied to me about who he was. It’s not important, but it wasn’t worth sticking around for.”
“You’re so full of shit.”
I’m taken aback. “Excuse me?”
“I know you, Alyssa. Something spooked you and you ran. I won’t pry—not my style. But if you ever want to talk about what really happened, I’m all ears.”
