Pretty Broken Bastard

by Jeana E. Mann

  “Oh, no. You don’t have to pay me anything.” Although I needed the money, my pride wouldn’t accept it. I hadn’t helped him in hopes of payment. My only motivation was to ease the tension between us. A second thought tempered my happiness for him. Now that he’d caught Clarence, he wouldn’t be visiting the coffee shop anymore. The alarm clock blared from the nightstand. I slapped a hand over the shutoff and groaned. “I need to go. I’ve got to get to work.”

  “Shit. You get up this early every morning?”

  I heard the rustle of fabric, like he was undressing, the sound of heavy boots hitting the floor, the jingle of coins on a dresser. Closing my eyes, I pictured his bare, muscular chest, the nipple ring, and the delectable cut of muscle below each hip bone. I swallowed and tried to push the thought out of my mind. “Every day, rain or shine. Like my dad says, that coffee’s not going to make itself.”

  “Okay, well, I just wanted to call and thank you.” His tone lowered, and I heard the higher pitch of a female voice in the background. I clenched my jaw. “You have a nice day, Jo Hollander.”

  “Thanks, Carter. You too.” I ended the call and sank to the edge of the bed, feeling dejected, every muscle in my body aching with exhaustion. That should have been me in his bed. I didn’t know who she was, but I begrudged her every touch of his fingers, every kiss of his lips. Then, I remembered Harold and the way he’d broken my heart. Because that was what men did. They lured you into their lair with kindness and false promises, and when they were done with you, they tossed you aside like you never mattered.

  Chapter 7

  Carter

  A few days later, I stopped by the coffee shop to give Jo the reward. One thousand dollars in cash might come in handy for her. A line of people snaked down the sidewalk and curled around the corner. I pushed my way to the front and inside to find Jo sweating behind the counter. At the first opportunity, I caught her gaze. She jerked her chin at me. A worried frown puckered her forehead.

  “I can’t talk. Lyle called off today.” She had one hand in the muffin display and the other hand on the espresso machine. “Grab a seat. I’ll call you when your order is done.”

  “Can I help?” I had no idea how to serve coffee, but the panic on her face was enough to make me want to try.

  She tossed an apron at me. “Do you know how to run a cash register?”

  After a quick tutorial, I took orders and rang them up while Jo made the coffee. I gained a new appreciation for how hard she worked. No matter how crabby the customers, she filled their orders with a pleasant smile. When the last customer had been served, I followed her through the swinging doors and into the back room. She hopped onto one of the counters and blew out a heavy sigh.

  “My feet are killing me.” As she spoke, she kicked off her sandals. Crossing an ankle over her knee, she kneaded the sole of her foot and winced.

  “Where did all those people come from?” Brushing her hand aside, I took her small foot in my grasp and dug my thumbs into her arch.

  “It’s overflow from the art gallery. They’re having a street fair today. I hoped to get a few of their patrons, but I had no idea it would be this crazy. You really helped. I’m not sure what I would have done if you hadn’t show up when you did.” Her head tipped back, eyes closing. A delicious moan accompanied each stroke of my fingers. I kept massaging, rewarded by her tiny grunts of ecstasy.

  “No problem.” Something funny happened low in my gut, something more than primitive lust. I cleared my throat and gently lowered her foot. “I just dropped by to give you this.” I withdrew an envelope from my pocket and handed it to her.

  “Like I said, it’s not necessary.” She waved my hand away, but her eyes remained trained on the envelope. “After what you did today, I couldn’t possibly accept it.”

  “Don’t argue. Just take it.”

  This time, she obeyed. She folded up the envelope and slipped it into her jeans pocket. “Thanks.” I could still taste the sweetness of her mouth from our kiss the other night. She cleared her throat. “You never got your coffee today. I could make some for you. On the house.”

  “No.” The last thing on my mind was coffee. I wanted to take her in my arms and do dirty things to her hot, tight little body—my cue to leave. “I probably should get out of here.”

  “Yeah, probably.” Her gaze dipped to my mouth then crawled back to my eyes.

  I knew that look. I’d seen it in other girls. She wanted me. The feeling was mutual. If she’d been anyone else, if I hadn’t promised Rhett, I’d have thrown her against the wall and fucked her until we both saw stars. Instead, I ran a hand through my hair and backed away. “Well, I’d better let you get back to work.”

  Back at the office, I propped my feet on the desk and stared at the computer screen with unseeing eyes. Life had taken an unexpected turn for the better, beginning with the capture of Benson. Spending the morning with Jo had put the icing on the cake. She was one hell of a girl. I respected her work ethic and the way she shouldered so much responsibility without complaint. The more I knew of her, the more I liked her.

  “You’re looking awfully smug today.” Darcy entered my office and dropped a pile of paperwork in the center of the desk. Her dangling earrings jingled with each toss of her hair.

  “It’s a beautiful day.” Jo had sent a plate of oatmeal chocolate chip cookies home with me. I took one and shoved the entire thing into my mouth. It melted on my tongue in a combination of textures, rough oatmeal and smooth chocolate. Like Jo, it was soft and sweet and mouthwatering.

  Darcy’s eyes narrowed. “For you, it’s a great day. For me, not so much. I was looking forward to a new Mercedes.” She cocked a hip and rested a hand on it, challenging me with her gaze.

  “Ah, right. Jo scooped up your bonus, didn’t she? I guess maybe next time you’ll be a little bit quicker.” I decided to let her stew for a bit. Unbeknownst to her, the Mercedes was on order and set to deliver in a few weeks. I rewarded my employees for their hard work. She might have missed the mark on Benson, but she’d been instrumental in making my business a success.

  “Who is this girl, anyway?” She plopped into one of the leather club chairs across from my desk and helped herself to a cookie. Her yellow-and-green plaid skinny jeans warred with the calm gray tones of my office. As the president of the company, I refused to enact a dress code. In my opinion, a person should wear what made them feel good, and if bright, obnoxious colors lifted her spirits, I was all in.

  “She’s Bronte’s sister—you know, Rhett’s girlfriend? Her family owns Joe’s Java Junction, the coffee shop down by the college.” The high-backed leather chair squeaked as I crossed my legs at the ankles.

  Darcy followed suit, crossing her legs and resting her shoes on the opposite corner. “Yeah? Never been there. I might have to go check her—the coffee shop—out.” Her sharp gaze roved over me.

  “She’s something else. You’d like her.” Unable to restrain my grin, I beamed and handed her another cookie.

  “You certainly seem smitten.” She nibbled the edges, peering over the top like a curious mouse.

  “Hardly. We’re friends.” In all of my twenty-nine years, I’d never had a female friend. This was a huge deal for me. I shoved aside the thought before I panicked.

  “So she’s ugly.” A smartass smirk curved Darcy’s bright pink mouth.

  “That’s a hateful thing to say.” With the tip of my boot, I knocked her feet off the desk. “Sounds like someone is jealous.”

  “You wish you had something this good.” Darcy waggled her thin, penciled eyebrows. With a fifteen-year age gap between us, she was more like a mother to me than my actual mom. We’d been through a lot together. Aside from Rhett, she was my most trusted friend.

  I opened my mouth to reply but was cut short by the sight of my sister, Reagan, entering the reception area. “Shit.” My feet hit the floor with a thud. I straightened in the chair and brushed cookie crumbs from the front of my T-shirt.

  Darcy’
s gaze followed mine. “Oh, yeah, I forgot. Your sister is coming by this afternoon.”

  “Seriously, Darcy? A little warning might have been nice.” With less than three months separating our ages, my half-sister and I enjoyed a unique dynamic. We were joined by blood, separated by secrets, and united against our father’s dictatorship.

  Reagan strode directly into my office. Although we shared the same paternity, she resembled her mother in coloring—her eyes a cool, misty blue, like a turbulent ocean, her skin lighter and more translucent. “Carter, you’re here. Great. We need to talk. Hi, Darcy.”

  “Hey, doll.” Darcy stood and air-kissed Reagan on the cheek. “You look fabulous today.”

  “Thanks. Oh, I love your shoes. I wish I could wear something like this, but my stylist would have a fit.” Reagan held Darcy at arm’s length to admire her outrageous outfit. Darcy preened, pointing the toes of her fire-engine-red platform pumps. Reagan, by contrast, wore an expensive cream pantsuit and taupe flats, the picture of classic conservatism.

  “Thanks.” The two women beamed at each other.

  I cleared my throat. If I didn’t interrupt, their love fest would last another hour.

  “Don’t start.” Reagan lifted a manicured finger into the air, expression stern. Her shiny hair, the same shade of brown as mine, swirled around her shoulders in perfect waves. “I need to know if you’re coming to the wedding. I haven’t gotten your RSVP yet.”

  “You know I can’t go.”

  “Yes, you can. You’re my brother, and I want you there.”

  I stared at her, certain I’d misheard. Our relationship was a secret. No one knew that we’d found each other through an absurd twist of fate, especially our father. If he knew, he’d have a shit fit. Although I relished the thought of causing him distress, I didn’t want to cause problems for my mother. Even if I wanted to go, I couldn’t risk hurting her. “No.”

  “Come on. You didn’t even think about it.” Her tone turned wheedling, like she was fifteen instead of thirty. I wished that I’d known her then, that our childhood hadn’t been stolen from us.

  “I don’t have to think about it. I’m not going to rub shoulders with two hundred strangers—”

  “Five hundred,” she interjected.

  “—five hundred strangers in a monkey suit just to watch you marry a guy with a spray tan.”

  “First of all, he doesn’t spray tan. He’s half Italian and naturally dark. Second, I need you there for moral support. You’re the only one who understands the way Daddy can be.” She smiled brightly, unfazed by the rejection, and rested a hip on the corner of my desk. The afternoon light brought out the gold in her eyes, eyes shaped like mine. “Besides, you know it’ll piss Daddy off. That should be reason enough for you.” Her soft, pale hand covered the back of my rough, tanned one. “You can sit in the back if you’re worried about what people will think. I just want you to be there.”

  “It doesn’t worry me. I don’t give a shit about what your society crowd thinks,” I said gruffly. “It’s the whole marriage thing. It gives me the creeps.” The concept of committing to one woman for all eternity sent a shiver down my back. “Besides, the church will probably burn down if I step inside.”

  “Nonsense. The angels will sing in glory.” She lifted her hands to the sky, mocking me with a playful grin. “It might do you good. Your soul could do with a little saving.”

  “It means that much to you?” Deep down, we both knew I’d give into her request but not without a fight. “And what about Senator Mayfield? Does he know that you invited me?”

  “Daddy doesn’t call all the shots.” Mischief twinkled in her eyes. “At least not after I marry Davis. Come on. Don’t make me beg.”

  “I’ll go to the wedding, but not the reception.” The elation on her face provided a bigger reward than any bounty.

  “You’ll go to both.” With two fingers, Reagan lifted the small sculpture acting as a paperweight on my desk. “What is this?”

  At first glance, the statue appeared to be a modern interpretation of two intertwining trees. I took it from her and turned it upside down. From this vantage point, the sculpture morphed into a round woman giving a blow job to a tall, spindly man. Reagan’s mouth formed a horrified O. I smirked.

  “That’s disgusting.” She rolled her eyes.

  “I like it.” I replaced the statue next to the stapler and folded my hands on the desktop.

  “Back to the topic.” She stood and smoothed her jacket. “You’re going to do this for me, Carter. You’re the only brother I have.” Her eyes flashed with the passion of her words. We hadn’t known each for very long, but I could see so much of my father in the clean lines of her face. Thank goodness she’d inherited his good qualities and not the bad. “I want all my family around me.”

  “Fine. I’ll go.” Why did I cave? Maybe I wanted to be normal, to have a family, to feel like I belonged somewhere to someone—anyone. Reagan was the only relative who gave a shit about me, and I couldn’t bear the idea of disappointing her.

  “Yes! Yay!” She grabbed my face and smacked a kiss on my forehead. “I knew I could count on you.”

  “You’re going to owe me for this. Big time,” I grumbled, in mock irritation.

  “Sure. Whatever you want.” The radiant happiness in her smile mitigated my misgivings. “And please bring a date.”

  “Whoa. That’s just crazy talk.” I shook my head. “No date.”

  “Don’t argue with me, Carter. It’s my day, and you’ve got to do what I say. If you go stag, it’ll make the guest count uneven at your table. Besides, I don’t want you hitting on the other bridesmaids or the guests.”

  “Do you seriously think I’d do something like that?”

  “In the year that I’ve known you, you’ve slept with my housekeeper and my psychiatrist. I trust you with my life, but I don’t trust you to keep your penis in your pants.”

  I chuckled.

  Reagan, however, missed the humor in the situation. She slapped a palm on the desk, making the paperclips jump. “This is serious, Carter. It’s bad enough that I’m marrying a man I hardly know so Daddy can run for Vice President. If I have to put up with all this political bullshit, I want this wedding to be perfect. No shenanigans.”

  “Geesh. Okay.” To show my surrender, I lifted my palms into the air. “Chill out, bridezilla.”

  “And get a haircut.” Although steel edged her tone and words, a smile lurked in her eyes.

  “No. Absolutely not.” As much as I loved her, I had to draw the line somewhere. I’d been growing my hair for the past three years. “It’s my strength. And the chicks dig it.”

  “Carter, Carter, Carter.” Reagan tsked and shook her head. “What kind of decent girl is going to go for a guy who looks like a deranged mountain man?” Her gaze dropped to the tattoo above the base of my thumb, the thickness of my beard, the length of my hair.

  “I don’t need any help with the ladies,” I said. The direction of the conversation left an uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach, one I’d have to analyze some other time.

  “When I said bring a date, I meant a respectable girl. None of your barroom floozies.” She glared at me, her expression identical to mine. We might have different mothers, but we definitely came from the same father.

  “Give me a break.” Even as I complained, I recognized the truth in her statement. “Darcy can come with me.”

  “Oh, no.” Darcy waved her hands through the air, plastic bracelets jangling. “I have a husband, and he doesn’t share. You’re on your own, mountain man.”

  “You have a few weeks to figure it out.” Reagan shouldered the strap of her large, expensive designer bag before giving my face a short, playful slap. “Darcy, make sure he gets a tuxedo, will you? I don’t have time to babysit him. Now, I’ve got to meet the florist. There’s a problem with the flowers. Walk me to the car, Carter.”

  When we reached the pristine white Audi on the opposite side of the street, I opened
the car door for her. She gave me a smile and a kiss on the cheek before driving away. I watched the car until it disappeared into midday traffic. I dragged a hand over my jaw, fingers stroking through my beard. This wedding had disaster written all over it. Lucky for Reagan, I enjoyed stirring up trouble.

  Chapter 8

  Jo

  A few days passed. Carter stayed in my thoughts. Mostly because he kept showing up at the coffee shop every morning. I tried to avoid him, but it was impossible to ignore his lion eyes. They followed me around as I worked. I found myself gravitating to his table just to hear his rumbling voice. With great effort, I managed to be civil, not too friendly but aloof. This crazy crush of mine had to end. Anything more than friendship with Carter was destined to end in disaster.

  Who was I kidding? I didn’t want a man at all. Harold had destroyed my self-confidence and my heart in one fell swoop. He’d been kind, generous, and adoring right up until the moment he’d become cold, cruel, and heartless. In the beginning, everything had been perfect. Although his work had forced him to commute between Laurel Falls and Chicago, we’d found a way to spend time together. Eventually, we’d moved into an apartment. One day, I’d come home to find his demeanor changed and my bags packed. He didn’t love me anymore. We were over.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I called out to Lyle when the last customer had left the building. “Be sure to lock the back door, okay?”

  “Yeah, got it.” He nodded and waved from behind the counter.

  I grabbed my purse and headed down the street with an errand list clutched in my fist. Since Dad rarely left the house, the bulk of the shopping fell to me. Twice a week, between running the coffee shop and taking online business courses, I found time to hit the groceries and drug stores. I scanned the list of items scrawled in my father’s small, tight handwriting. Shaving cream, razor blades, dental floss, and red licorice. I shook my head and smiled. The toiletries were for him, but the red licorice was for me. Even in his depression, he still thought about me.