Pretty Broken Bastard

by Jeana E. Mann

  “I know I’m not good enough for her.” During my life, people had constantly reminded me that I was an embarrassment or a nuisance or unworthy. “And I know my past is sketchy, to say the least, but if I don’t try, I’ll never forgive myself.” When he didn’t reply, I turned around to find him grinning at me like a psychopath. I glowered at him. “You think this is funny?”

  “Hell yes. I’ve been waiting for this moment for years.” He shifted in his chair, still smiling. “Just give me a minute. I want to enjoy this.” His shoulders began to shake with laughter.

  “Thanks a lot. I’m glad you find my heartbreak amusing. You’ve been a great help.” My menacing glare did nothing to assuage his amusement.

  He dabbed at the moisture in his eyes. “No, seriously. Since we were kids, I’ve been dreaming about the day you fell in love. Just once. And now you’ve gone and fallen for the one person least likely to return your feelings.” I raised my middle finger, causing his smile to widen. “Yes, this is an amazing day. What next?”

  “Maybe monkeys will fly out of your butt. That would make me feel a whole lot better.”

  “Alright.” He lifted a hand, his expression sobering. “I’m sorry. Wait, no I’m not.” The smile returned. “But if you’re truly sincere, I’m willing to help.”

  Chapter 21

  Jo

  After Carter left, I curled up on the chenille loveseat in the library with an enticing book. I hadn’t read anything more than ingredient labels and recipes in over a year and relished the thought of losing myself in a good novel. With a cozy afghan for snuggling, I tucked a foot underneath me and tried to concentrate on the prose. Everything smelled like Carter, and my thoughts kept going back to the way he’d taken me at the hotel. He’d been gentle but relentless. I’d never been fucked so thoroughly in my life. I touched a hand to my lips, remembering his brutal kisses. He’d physically used me, and I’d loved every minute of it.

  Just thinking of his narrow hips pumping between my legs sent a rush of heat into my cheeks and dampness into my panties. No one had ever made me come so hard or so many times. His rough hands had been tender and commanding. “No,” I whispered at the lurch of my heart. I had to keep a clear head. This confusing rush of endorphins and hormones wasn’t love. It was lust, pure and simple. I couldn’t allow sexual attraction to develop into feelings. To fall in love with Carter would be committing emotional suicide. Even if he recanted his denial and wanted to start a relationship, I’d be crazy to accept. Or would I? The challenge of taming him tantalized and tempted me. If he asked again, would I accept? How could I not?

  “Hello?” A female voice floated up from the ground floor. “Is anyone home?” Light footsteps traveled along the hardwood floor, followed by the clanging metal and grinding gears of the elevator.

  “Shit.” My pulse tripled. Carter hadn’t said he was expecting company. The housekeeper had come and gone. I bit my lower lip and tried to prepare for the worst, an ex-girlfriend or a lover.

  “Oh, hi.” A tall, platinum blonde stood in the hallway, arms filled with garment bags and packages. “You must be Jo.” Her gaze raked over my body, assessing, stopping short of my face.

  “Um, hi.” Embarrassment heated my cheeks. “I’m sorry. I don’t know who you are.”

  “Darcy.” Still avoiding eye contact, she dropped the items on the desk. “Carter asked me to pick up a few things for you to wear for the wedding.” I cast a skeptical eye over her purple flowered shirt and red leggings. She caught my glance and rolled her eyes. “Relax. My sister is a personal shopper at Neiman Marcus.”

  “Thanks,” I said, choosing brevity of speech as the safest of my choices until I figured her out.

  “I’ve got several options here for you. Try them on. I’ll return whatever you don’t like or doesn’t fit. I got two different sizes of each outfit. There are two long gowns and two cocktail dresses, matching lingerie, and shoes.”

  “I appreciate your help,” I said, hoping to convey my heartfelt sincerity. “I’m sure it’s not your job to find clothing for Carter’s dates.” At least, I hoped it wasn’t.

  She scoffed. “You wouldn’t believe the things he asks me to do. And always texting me in the middle of the night. I swear that guy never sleeps.” With a hand on each hip, she shook her head, long earrings swinging like pendulums.

  I fingered the edge of a navy silk dress. “Have you worked for him a long time?”

  “A few years.” The weight of her stare dragged over me once more, and I got the feeling that I came up lacking in her analysis. “Long enough to know his likes and dislikes. Long enough to see a hundred girls like you come and go.”

  Wow. The back of my neck prickled. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I caught her gaze. Disapproval and protectiveness clouded her eyes, more like a mother hen than a girlfriend. A bit of the tension in my shoulders eased. Her attitude stemmed from affection, not cattiness.

  “It means that Carter doesn’t do relationships. So if you think you’re going to take advantage of his good heart or his fat bank account, you’ve got another thing coming.”

  I drew in a short, sharp breath, offended by her statement. “My relationship with Carter isn’t any of your business.” The depth of my resentment caught me by surprise.

  “Well, that’s where you’re wrong. He is my business.” Darcy’s mouth pinched into a tight line.

  I drew a shaking hand across my forehead. The conversation had gone from unpleasant to uncomfortable in less than a minute. Most people liked me without any effort on my part. Judging by the scowl on her neon-pink lips, it would take a lot more than smiles and pleasantries to win her over. “You care a lot for him.”

  Her expression softened, but her eyes remained steely. “Carter’s a good man, the best boss I’ve ever had, and it’s my job to watch out for him. God knows his mother won’t do it, and his father doesn’t give a shit about him. He needs someone to have his back.”

  The level of concern in her voice eased my animosity. I could never fault a person for defending another, especially when I’d done the same so many times in my life. “He’s very lucky to have you.”

  “No. I’m the lucky one. When we met, I had three kids, no job, no home, and we were starving. Carter made me his assistant, found us a house, and made sure we had enough to eat until I got back on my feet.” Her face glowed as she spoke, making my heart squeeze. “Most people think he’s an ass, but I know the truth. He’s generous to a fault, and underneath his hard exterior, he’s easily hurt.”

  “You don’t have to worry. I’m not going to hurt him.” In fact, I had a feeling it was my own heart on the line. I’d sworn off men, but Carter had managed to sneak past every barrier I’d erected.

  We stared at each other. I lifted my chin, matching her stubborn will with my own. Faced with Darcy’s absolute disapproval, I found my resolve to push Carter away weakening.

  “Never say never,” she remarked, her tone airy. “I’m sure I don’t need to point out that you owe him a lot, too. He’s gone above and beyond to get you out of this crazy mess you’re in. Kept me awake half the night digging up dirt on your ex, calling in favors from the D.A. I hope you’re worth the trouble.”

  “I know. You’re right.” I’d been so consumed by my personal challenges that I’d trivialized Carter’s efforts. If it wasn’t for him, I’d be sitting in a jail cell right now, facing a handful of felony charges and a prison sentence. I sank into the nearest chair and dropped my head into my hands. “How can I ever repay him?”

  A gentle hand patted my shoulder. “You seem like a nice girl—crazy, but nice.” I looked up into Darcy’s worried eyes. “Be nice to him. He’s used to being ignored and overlooked, so he fights against any kindness, but once you’ve won him over, he’ll never let you down.”

  “You really care about him,” I said, surprised by the emotion in my voice. “I care about him, too.”

  “Then don’t play with his heart,” she said, turned around, and left
.

  Chapter 22

  Carter

  When I left Jo earlier that day, she’d been curled up on the loveseat in the library, reading a romance novel. When I returned home, I found her in the same place. I stood in front of her for several minutes before she noticed me, enjoying the soft curve of her parted lips, the faint glimmer of tears in her eyes. Finally, she lowered the book and stretched lazily, like a cat, a smile bowing her mouth.

  That strange, unexplained twist happened again, the one that tightened my balls and seized my heart. I smiled back at her. The presence of a female in the sanctity of my library turned the world upside down. Never before had something so wrong seemed so right.

  “You’re home already? I can’t believe it’s so late. I totally lost track of time.” She closed the book and placed it on the small table at her side. She glanced up and her eyes went wide. “Oh, my gosh. You cut your hair, and your beard—it’s gone.”

  “Yeah, what do you think?” I rubbed a hand over the smoothness of my jaw, unused to the feel of bare skin. After my visit with Rhett, taking Reagan’s threats to heart, I’d gone to the nearest barber and gotten a complete overhaul. The lion’s mane was gone, less than an inch long on the sides, long enough on the top to be edgy and anti-establishment.

  “You look different. Amazing. Dangerous.” A slow smile lifted one corner of her mouth. “I like it.”

  “Thanks.” Embarrassed by her praise, I grinned sheepishly and took a seat beside her, ignoring the dryness of my mouth and the trembling of my hands. I’d never been this nervous around a woman before, mostly because I’d never cared what any woman thought of me. To change the subject away from myself, I asked, “What are you reading?”

  “Raintree County,” she said. “Have you read it?”

  “Yeah. It’s good.” We stared at each other for a beat. My hands rested on the tops of my thighs, fingers curled against the urge to sweep the hair from her face. “Have you been up here all day?”

  “Pretty much.” A dimple appeared in her left cheek, one I’d never noticed before.

  “Did you have anything to eat?”

  “No, I was too engrossed in the book, but I am a little hungry.” She stretched again, groaning, the sound agitating my libido.

  “Great. I’ve got pizza downstairs. I thought we could eat and maybe watch a movie or something.” I stood and offered my hand to help her up. She rolled her lips together, thinking, then slid her palm over mine. Our fingers curled together as I pulled her to her feet.

  After pizza, Jo chose an action thriller movie and fell asleep halfway through, curled up on the sofa, her head pillowed in my lap. I stared at her, the lacy fan of eyelashes on her cheeks, her parted lips, and the slow rise and fall of her breasts with each breath. She looked so innocent and vulnerable. I wanted to scoop her into my arms and protect her from all the evil in the world. When the movie ended, I clicked off the television and wondered what I should do next. I’d sat next to her for the past two hours, an uncomfortable erection in my pants and a knot in the pit of my stomach. This new and uncharted territory had me on edge. The old Carter would have dragged her to the floor and stripped away her clothes before the opening credits of the movie. The new Carter had waited patiently throughout the entire film, casting covert glances at her, worrying if she was too hot or too cold, thirsty or uncomfortable. I rubbed a hand over my bare neck, where my long hair had once been.

  “I should probably go to bed.” Jo sat up and blinked sleepy eyes at me, covering a yawn. “What time are we leaving for the wedding tomorrow?”

  “It’s an hour drive to the church, so I guess we should leave by two. That’ll give us plenty of time.”

  “Do you think it’s okay for me to go out like that? I mean, you’re not worried someone will recognize me?” She tucked her hair behind her ear and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth.

  “You’re not connected to any of the guests, it’s out of town, and Calloway will be there.” I rubbed perspiring palms over my jeans. There were things about myself that she should know before meeting my father, important things, but fear and shame kept the secrets locked inside me. “About the wedding—” The end of the sentence disappeared from my head. My heart began to palpitate so badly I thought my chest would explode.

  “What is it?” The weight of her gaze on my face tripled my anxiety.

  Jesus, Carter. Talk. I cleared my throat and tried again. “I hope it’s not too boring.” What a coward.

  “Aren’t they all?” The long waves of her hair shimmered as she shook her head. “Don’t worry. I’ll be on my best behavior. It’s the least I can do after everything you’ve done for me.” I sat there staring at her like an idiot. She bent and placed a kiss on my cheek, stopping my heart in its tracks.

  Tell her. Tell her you love her. Tell her you made a mistake, that you can do relationships, that you want a chance with her. Tell. Her. The words traveled through my head on a loop, but the only thing that came out of my mouth was, “No problem.”

  We went upstairs together, parting at our respective rooms.

  All night long, I tossed and turned, thinking of her on the other side of the bedroom wall, sleeping in my bed, on my sheets. I should be there with her, holding her against my chest, keeping her warm and protected in my arms. In all of my life experiences, I’d never been a coward, not in front of enemy soldiers, nor when chasing down a fugitive. Tomorrow, after the wedding, I’d tell her I loved her, because the risk of letting her go seemed so much worse.

  Chapter 23

  Jo

  The wedding was held at an enormous cathedral known for its celebrity connections. We sat at the back, on the bride’s side. I wiped nervous palms along the skirt of my gown and tried not to gape at the familiar faces of congressmen, senators, judges, and dignitaries. Calloway sat a few rows in front of us and nodded in welcome when we took our seats.

  Carter shifted restlessly in the pew. The classic lines of his tuxedo emphasized his broad shoulders and narrow waist. The contrast of sophistication with his raw, primal energy made my blood sing. One of his arms rested along the backrest behind me, his fingers toying with the strap of my gown. His black-clad legs crammed beneath the pew in front of us, knees spread wide, brushing my thigh. I fanned my face with the program to dispel some of the internal heat blasting inside me.

  Everyone stood for the entrance of the bride, but most eyes focused on Carter. Their stares went beyond the boundaries of polite interest. He remained immobile, chin lifted, expression implacable. Once we resumed our seats, I rested a hand on his thigh. The muscle tensed under my palm. After a few seconds, he smiled down at me and engulfed my hand in his larger one.

  He leaned down to whisper in my ear. “I hate these things.” Our eyes met, and my core clenched. With an index finger, he brushed a strand of hair away from my face. “Thanks again for coming with me.”

  “You’re welcome.” The praise filled me with warmth. “I’m never getting married, but if I do, it won’t be like this,” I replied, gazing over the endless guests, the eight bridesmaids, and the stifling air of ceremony. I ran a hand over his shaven cheek where stubble had already begun to sprout. He was the kind of guy who needed to shave multiple times a day. He smiled beneath my touch.

  “Careful,” he said, his eyes darkening. “I’m thinking some very sinful thoughts about you right now. I don’t want to get struck by lightning.”

  “Shhhh,” someone admonished, sending me into a fit of muted giggles. Disproving faces turned to glare at us. Carter stared back at them. I bit my lower lip and glanced down, my gaze falling on our clasped hands. His thumb smoothed over the back of my hand, causing me to have a few illicit thoughts of my own.

  Two hours later, we drove across the city to the reception. As we entered the enormous ballroom of the Elysian Palace Hotel, nervous butterflies tumbled in my belly. I knew at a glance that I was in way over my head. At my side, Carter simmered with unrest. Anxiety emanated from every line of his body.
He hadn’t spoken a word throughout the wedding or during the drive to the reception. I glanced over at him, hoping to discern his mood, but he’d drawn the familiar shutter over his eyes.

  The crystal chandeliers reflected off the polished floors as we crossed the room. Hundreds of guests gathered around white-and-silver tables. The family and wedding party surrounded a long table at the front. We were seated at a small table by ourselves, all the way in the rear next to the kitchen. No one spoke to us. Carter remained tight-lipped and strained during the meal, his unrest growing with each passing course. Afterward, I excused myself to freshen up, thinking I’d done something to offend him. I took a wrong turn and bumbled into a small reception room. Before I could leave, the doors opened and a couple entered.

  “What is he doing here?” the woman asked. Venom laced her voice. I recognized her as the mother of the bride.

  “I have no idea.” The man, whom I recognized as Senator Mayfield, paused to straighten the knot of his bowtie in a nearby mirror. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Of course I’m worried. He’s an embarrassment.” She paced the floor in front of the doors, her high heels clicking on the tile. “It’s one thing for you to have a mistress. It’s another thing to flaunt your bastard son under my nose.”

  “Calm down.” He smoothed a hand over his hair then straightened his cuffs. “No one knows or cares that Carter is here.”