by Lynda Aicher
Brie had spent more nights at his place than her own since that night in their office. The night he’d confessed to loving her right before he’d showed her on the boardroom table. His lips quirked. Remaining focused during Monday morning meetings had become damn hard after that.
She brushed a lock of damp hair behind her ear before she took a sip from her mug. Her phone dinged with a new text message. She reached for it on the table, brows dipping when she glanced at it. Her tight little scowl alerted him to the sender. It was the same pinched looked she got whenever her mother texted.
She typed back a quick response before returning her phone to the table. Her tired annoyance tangible when she sat back. The urge to comfort her swarmed up without thought or warning.
A hard twist knotted his stomach and encompassed his chest. He honestly had no idea how they’d gotten here. He’d been present for every moment. He could track the events and see the path, yet the logic didn’t process.
Nothing in his personal experience said this was possible.
That didn’t stop the contented peace from settling in his heart. Yeah, he did have one. It expanded every time he saw Brie and hitched each time she smiled at him.
The coldness that used to fill his chest had been replaced by a bright, shining warmth.
And he’d become a sap. Christ.
He hung his head, shook it. Nope. He couldn’t get lost. Not in Brie. Life still existed, and he knew for a fact it wasn’t all hearts and love songs.
With that sharp reminder, he shoved away from the doorway. “What time are you leaving?”
Her head snapped around, her smile faltering. “Around nine. Like usual.”
The hesitation in her voice waved the red flag at his dick behavior. He set his mug down before he dipped to kiss her, sending his apology into the hello that tasted of coffee and lazy Sunday mornings. Yet another thing he’d never expected to have.
The doubt was gone from her eyes when he pulled away. And there went that bizarre lift and fall that rippled through his chest and spread through every fiber of his body. How?
“No problem,” he soothed, taking a seat in the chair beside hers. He picked up his mug. “I’m going to head to the office for a few hours.” That was far preferred over attending Brie’s family brunch—not that she’d ever invited him.
He shoved aside the irritation that tried to weasel its way in. Families were complicated. He didn’t need to meet hers, yet the lingering, nagging holdover doubts from his childhood still nibbled at him. He wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t worth introducing.
He wasn’t someone she could be proud of.
And he attributed every one of those doubts to his own insecurities. Brie wasn’t like that.
“I should be done by one.” She stared into the distance, absently nibbling her lip. “Do you have other plans for today?” Expectation lifted her brows when she looked to him.
“No.”
“You can join me in my apartment hunt, if you’d like. I promise it’ll be filled with disappointment, rejection and a few wows before the first two hit.” Her attempt at levity fell flat.
“Why are you looking for a new apartment?”
Her sigh dragged the smile from her face. She curled into the chair more, shifting to face him better.
“My roommate wants her boyfriend to move in.” Annoyance flashed in her eyes before it changed to dread. “And since the place was hers first, I can’t argue.”
“You could,” he countered. “Did you sign a contract? We can—”
“Stop.” She lifted a hand, laughter spilling out. “There’s nothing to debate or fight. Really,” she added when he opened his mouth. He snapped it shut, but his mind continued to spin through options and solutions. “She’s a good person, and it’s within her right to ask. Plus she’s giving me time to find something else.”
“Is she a friend?”
“Yes. But we’re not super close.”
They never talked about friends or their families, not really. He had nothing to offer in that discussion, and Brie never brought them up. Why? “I imagine you have a lot of friends in the area,” he probed, curious. His ex had prattled on for hours about this connection or that contact.
She gave a dismissive shrug. “A few. I have more acquaintances than friends.”
That, he understood. But... “I thought you might have more given you grew up in the area.”
“I could say the same about you.” She lifted a brow, the challenge extended.
His chuckle held an appreciative edge that managed to cut him with its sharpness. “I doubt your childhood was anything like mine.” Harsh bitterness played in his voice and exposed more than he’d intended.
She lowered her feet to the ground, sitting forward. “Are you ready to share yours?”
He yanked his gaze away from her probing intent. The lack of accusation or defensiveness in her voice only hit him harder. She was simply asking.
His hand tensed around his mug. “Not really.” His leg started to bounce, but he stopped it almost immediately.
“Ryan.” The gentle request in her voice got him to look at her. “It’s fine.” The truth of that flowed over him, from her relaxed pose to the understanding in her eyes. “I love you for who you are now. Not where you came from or where you’re going. But you, right now, right here.” She reached out to tap his chest. “You hide your heart behind your logic.” She lifted her hand to touch his temple before she drew her fingertips down his jaw. “But I’ve felt it since the first time you touched me. That’s all I need.”
Honesty radiated from every pore as she silently dared him to argue. Could he when his heart was stuck in his throat and attempting to choke him? He cleared it away with a hard rumble, thoughts scattering.
He grabbed her hand, threaded his fingers with hers. The connection buzzed through him on a wave of disbelief before it settled into the peace. He released a slow breath, the hesitation exiting with it.
“Where’d you come from?” he mused.
“Walnut Creek.” Her wink was all sauce that went with her grin. “From your standard suburban neighborhood, with all the expectations placed on the oldest daughter of two parents whose sole focus in life was to be better.” The quick shrug said more than her words. “I was placed in that cart and shoved into the shiny glow of perfectionism before I was old enough to understand that it doesn’t exist.”
No, it didn’t. Ever. “When’d you learn?”
Her fake show of humor fell away to leave behind the old hurt. “When I broke my wrist doing a double back handspring.” She twisted her free hand, staring at it. “My mom was more worried over the threat it posed to my standing as the cheer captain than the severity of the fracture.” She scoffed, sitting up. “She didn’t have to worry, though. I maintained my spot on the team, along with my homecoming-queen crown and the quarterback boyfriend.” Her cheesy grin held a level of contempt he related to. “But that still wasn’t enough.”
He set his mug on the table and tugged her over until she was nestled across his lap, his arms wrapped around her, her head resting on his shoulder. The need to obliterate the obvious hurt radiating from her had him seething at parents he’d never met.
“How could it not be?” he asked, pressing a kiss to her temple.
“I wasn’t valedictorian.” Her breath skimmed over his throat in a soft kiss. “Or class president. And I didn’t go to Berkeley or Stanford or any of the big state universities. And I’m only a paralegal. Not a lawyer. And—”
“Stop.” He cut her off, hugging her closer. “I get it, okay. I don’t agree with any of it, but I get it.” The tension slowly dissolved from her stiff shoulders and tight muscles. He slipped his hand beneath her robe to rub soothing strokes over her thigh. “My parents didn’t give a shit about what I did,” he told her. “Just as long as they didn’t see me.” An
d he’d considered that a blessing. “The cigarette burns on my back are from the last time my father bothered to engage with me.”
“Were you eleven then?” she asked quietly.
His soft huff held a dose of ironic mirth. “Yes.”
He didn’t know how to process her understanding or the fact that she’d connected his brief remark from weeks ago. He’d been eleven years old when he’d refused to react to the searing burns, one after the other, until the cigarette went out.
His arm tightened around her, his chest contracting. Brie was the first person he’d ever shared that tidbit with. His ex had never asked.
“I hear there’s a nice balance somewhere between those two extremes.” She rubbed a soothing stroke over his chest, her empathy communicated without the overdose of sympathy and analyzation.
“There is?” he joked. He was done thinking about the past when it did no good.
She gave a slow nod. “Yeah. I’ve even seen it.”
“Where?” He jerked to the side, mock surprise in place when she scowled at him.
“On TV,” she deadpanned. She held a straight face for a beat before her grin took over. “And a few friends in high school who had normal, attentive parents,” she conceded.
“They really do exist,” he mused, using the mystical Santa Claus tone. Yet another thing he’d never been allowed to believe in.
Her nod was slow and solemn. “They’re a very rare species, though. They’re only found in remote locations and under specialized conditions.”
“Such as?”
“Full moons and the summer solstice.”
“Of course.”
Her lip twitched, her smile itching to break free. “Of course.”
His chuckle escaped before he captured that wavering smile with his lips. He filled the kiss with empathy and understanding, trusting she heard him. Because she got him like no one else ever had—or had even tried to.
And that was a gift he was still learning to trust.
* * *
Warmth crept into Brie’s blood and circled through her on a slow hum of contentment. Ryan teased her tongue with light grazes and gentle nips before he eased back.
She slicked her tongue over her lips, savoring the lingering tingle. That flutter in her chest mimicked the shiver that spread beneath her skin. How had she fallen so hard? Time had slipped by on the cyclical pace of weeks that’d flown into months that’d become seasons. Fall had arrived and with it came new opportunities instead of endings.
“I should get dressed,” she said with regret. Missing the nine-thirty train wasn’t an option.
Ryan slipped his hand up her thigh to graze his thumb through her pussy. “Are you sure?” Speculation played on his face when her groan fell out. He pressed on her clit, eyes smoldering.
“Yes!” She shoved his hand away, laughing with her own regret. She sat up, tugging the robe around her. “As much as I’d love to stay and fuck you all morning, I can’t.” Not if she wanted to keep her mother off her back. She cupped his face and kissed away the frown that’d formed. “Sorry,” she whispered as she started to rise.
He tugged her back down, kissing her again. The urgency pumped into her, lighting her up and shifting that constant, flickering flame to an inferno.
“Ryan,” she whined, ripping her mouth from his. “I have to go.” The tick, tick, tick of the clock hammered in her mind with the warning bell of her mother’s quiet wrath.
He stole one more kiss before he let her go. “Fine.” He dragged his hand down her leg as she stood before he adjusted the obvious erection tenting his shorts. “I’ll just take care of this by myself.”
“You poor, suffering man,” she commiserated, running a finger up the rigid line before she walked away. His dry laugh followed her into his condo to set her heart fluttering again.
Her grin was still on her face when she slipped her flats on twenty minutes later. She fluffed her hair in the closet mirror and checked her sundress. Would her mother comment on the deep cut of the neckline or the bright red color?
“You look beautiful.”
She spun around at Ryan’s voice, the tenderness spreading to wrap her tight. She flicked her eyes over him. Even in a loose T-shirt and basketball shorts, he was sexy. His hair was still damp from his shower and he’d shaven, like he did every single morning even though he could get away with not doing so on the weekends.
“Thank you.” Every dismissive comeback disappeared under his honesty. She let her mother-induced insecurities go. She liked the dress, and that was all that mattered.
She stopped in front of him when he didn’t budge from the closet doorway. He stared at her. Thoughts floated around his dark eyes in obvious waves that had her hesitating.
“What?” she asked, laying her hand on his chest.
Dread twisted in her stomach. Was he going to ask to join her? To meet her parents? He hadn’t yet, but it was only a matter of time, right? That’s how relationships worked. Meet, fall in love, meet the families... And she couldn’t get herself to take that next step. Not when it could ruin everything they had.
“Do you have any friends you can move in with?”
Her mind jumped to the topic with an added hitch that came whenever he dove into a subject without warning. He always had a purpose, a defined intent.
“No. They’re all married or have roommates.”
“Are you looking to live alone?”
She shook her head. “I can’t afford it.” Even the studios were out of her budget or in undesirable locations.
“So you’re going to live with a stranger?” The lines in his forehead deepened.
“Hopefully, they won’t remain one for long.” She dismissed his worry, urging him to move so she could get by. “I really need to go.”
He let her pass, but reached out to grab her arm before she could move away. She looked back, irritated. “Ryan?” Was this where he dug in and asked why she hadn’t invited him to brunch?
“Why don’t you move in here?”
His question sputtered about in her brain without taking hold. “What?” she finally managed to get out around her exaggerated guilt.
He stepped up, framing her face with his hands. “Move in here. Live with me.”
Her pulse jumped. A swarm of nervous butterflies took flight in her stomach and tickled another string of hope. “Live with you,” she repeated, still not believing his words.
A smile slid over his face, amusement lighting his eyes. “Yes.”
She grabbed his wrist, needing the support to hold her steady. How did he just lob that at her? And smile? Him. Ryan Burns. The man who had a plan and path for everything?
“Why?” Her suspicion was tossed out on a volley of doubts.
His sigh was weighted before he drew her into his arms. She went, if only to get away from the overwhelming intensity of his gaze. “And I thought I was the suspicious one.”
“You are,” she mumbled, circling her arms around his waist.
“I know.”
A kiss landed on her head and even now, it sunk in to knock against the insecurities that still held strong within her. “I’m just trying to understand,” she explained, easing back to see his face. “Where’d this come from?”
“Where’d you come from?” he countered, chuckling. He brushed her hair back, cupping her neck, his thumb caressing that tender spot just behind her ear. The touch was so casual now. Normal and almost expected. When had they come so far?
“I thought we covered that earlier?” she quipped, the lightness saving her from crumbling.
He puffed out a single note of amusement. “We did.”
“So?” She left that hanging, waiting. A part of her really needed to hear his explanation. She didn’t need him to swoop in and save her, if that was what he was trying to do. It was just a roommate
. She’d be fine.
“Stop overthinking this, Brie.” The amused quirk of his lips countered the vulnerability that flashed in his eyes.
He rubbed a finger over her forehead, the tension leaving as he did, which irritated her too. He shouldn’t be able to do that. But he could.
Was that all part of this love thing?
“It was just an offer,” he went on, his gaze shifting to track the movement of his thumb. “You’re here every weekend. You have clothes in my closet and a drawer in the bathroom.” True, but that was still a far stretch from living together full-time. He looked back to her, truth exposed in the dark depths. “Plus, I like waking up with you in my arms.” Oh... “And seeing your scowl before your first cup of coffee in the morning.”
“I don’t scowl,” she interjected.
He lifted a doubtful brow, which she glared at.
“And curling up next to you after a long day,” he went on. “Breathing you in as you fall asleep.”
She swallowed, feeling herself fall all over again. But this was huge. “I need to think about it.”
His brows dipped just slightly before they flattened back out. “I understand.” Did he, really? “No pressure. I promise.” A crispness had come back to his tone, one that said the topic was over. He’d made his points, now it was her turn to counter.
But she didn’t have anything. Not yet.
She lifted up to give him a quick kiss. “I have to go. Really.” She caught his hand, giving it a squeeze. That strange shiver spread up her arm to tease her heart with acceptance. This was right. He was right.
But a leap this huge required thought, not impulse, right? Or at least the presumption of thought. Her heart was already screaming hell yes. But what about work? Her mother? Her career? Would the respect she’d worked so hard to achieve be dismissed behind the assumption that she’d slept her way to her position? Exactly like Donaldson had said.
Brighton cringed. That conservative, always perfect, do-the-right-thing side of her cramped around her floundering freedom.
Hadn’t she already faced these issues?
Brie had danced at an event dotted with area attorneys, fucked in a room filled with area executives, became a member of the Boardroom, formally informed the company partners of their relationship—didn’t all those actions scream yes as well?
