Stars Over Castle Hill: A Joss and Braden Novella

by Samantha Young

I wrinkled my nose. “Braden, I’m thirty years old and I’ve never been adorable.”

  In answer, he leaned down and kissed the tip of my nose. “You’re adorable. Sexy as fuck. But adorable, too.”

  I didn’t know how to respond and so I stood there looking up at him with my lips parted for words that wouldn’t come.

  Luckily I was saved by the sound of his phone ringing. He took it out and gave me an apologetic look. “It’s Kiersten. I’d better answer.”

  “Go ahead,” I said, perturbed by the spike of jealousy I felt at the thought of this woman who had a child with Braden. No matter what, she was always going to be a part of his life.

  “Kiersten,” Braden answered. My jealousy was somewhat mollified by his flat tone and blank expression, an expression that softened abruptly. “Abby, darlin’. What is it?”

  I was transfixed by the look on his face. Hearing his daughter’s voice had transformed him. It was becoming clear that Braden was a very expressive person. I’d been treated to his intensity when he was hot for me. I’d even been treated to a soft amusement that felt like affection, which was nice.

  But the look on his face now.

  It was deep love.

  And for some reason it caused this split inside my chest, this awful, aching emptiness that I couldn’t put a name to.

  It took me a moment to realize Braden’s expression had changed again. There was a storm brewing in his pale gaze. “Right … no, darlin’, don’t worry. I’ll be right there … Aye. See you soon … Love you, too, angel.” He hung up and glared at me.

  I knew the glare wasn’t for me, though.

  “Fucking Kiersten.” He ran a hand through his hair, exasperated.

  I was almost afraid to ask. “What is it?”

  “Abby says Kiersten has started packing suitcases for them.”

  Dread filled me. “Are they going somewhere?”

  “No.” He cursed, anger blazing from his eyes. “It’s a ploy. It’s a fucking ploy to get me over there. She knew Abby would call me.”

  “What does she want?”

  “The usual.” He stepped toward me, his anger changing to regret. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

  I wondered what “the usual” meant but I didn’t pry. “Hey, don’t worry about it. Abby comes first. I get that. That’s how it should be.” I grinned up at him so he’d know I meant it. “I’d think you were an asshole if you didn’t go.”

  He gave me a small smile and then bent his head toward mine.

  My breath caught as I waited, wondering what kind of kiss he’d give me this time.

  A simple brush of his lips against mine.

  Except no touch from Braden was simple.

  A groan of frustration escaped me before I could stop it.

  Braden slid his hand around the nape of my neck in answer. Our noses were almost touching as he looked deep into my eyes with that cocky, smoldering heat I didn’t think I’d ever get used to. “Heads-up. I’m not planning on fucking you anytime soon.”

  My lips parted in shock at his candor, and I scrambled to cover the fact that he had me off balance. “Not that it would be up to you whether we have sex, but can I ask why not?”

  He chuckled at my uppity tone. “Because … if we fuck now before we’ve gotten to know each other better, you might think all I want from you is casual sex. You need to know I’ve set my sights on more than that from you. So as much as I want you—and babe, you have no idea how much I want you—we’re going to take this slow. Or as slow as possible. Do you understand what I’m saying, Jocelyn?”

  My breath was stuck somewhere in my body, and I could feel an unwelcome prickle across my skin.

  I understood what he was saying.

  And it terrified me.

  Yet … the thought of this being the last time I saw him terrified me more. To my own shock, I whispered, “I understand.”

  His eyes darkened with heat and he kissed me again. This time his tongue touched mine for a second. “I have to go. I’ll call you.”

  “You do that.” I stepped out of his hold, sensing I needed to be the one to break contact.

  Braden looked a little winded and I wondered what was going on in his head.

  But I didn’t ask. “I hope everything goes okay with Abby.”

  That seemed to shake him out of his thoughts and grim determination replaced them. “I’ll call you,” he repeated.

  As I watched him walk away, I became aware of something.

  I lifted my hand and stared at it. Because it was trembling.

  I clenched it into a fist, my own grim determination moving through me.

  It was time to stop being so damned scared.

  And I had hope that for Braden, I might win the fight with my fears.

  ***

  Trusting people didn’t come easily to me but there was something about Braden and his no-bullshit attitude that pulled me in. For that reason, it didn’t surprise me when he called me that evening to arrange another date. I’d asked him how things with Abby and Kiersten had gone but he said he’d tell me all about it on our date. And to my mingled pleasure and fear (a combination of feelings I was growing used to since meeting Mr. Carmichael), he didn’t want to wait to see me.

  “I’m taking tomorrow off work and I want to spend the day with you. Are you free?”

  I was in the middle of a book deadline. “Yeah, I’m free.”

  So that was how I found myself outside Starbucks on George Street the next morning, waiting on Braden. I looked up from my phone and caught sight of him striding toward me. My belly flipped with excitement.

  I wanted to spend time with him.

  I wanted to spend a lot of time with him.

  And I couldn’t remember the last time I’d craved someone’s company this much.

  Fear shivered through me, a feeling that was obliterated as soon as he reached me and bent his head to press a soft kiss to my mouth. Then he took my hand and smiled as he led me up the steps to the coffee shop. “How are you?”

  Ready to explode with sexual frustration if you don’t put your hands on more exciting parts of me soon. “Good. You?”

  “I’m good now.” He gave me a cocky grin and tightened his hold on my hand as we stepped into the busy shop.

  “So, what are the plans for today?” I stared up at his profile as he searched the menu.

  I liked his face.

  In fact, I liked his face more than I liked any other face.

  Feeling my gaze, he looked down at me, that soft amusement glittering his eyes again. “Coffee, and then I thought we could wander around.”

  “Wander around?”

  He nodded. “And talk. Get to know each other better.”

  “Oh, I see.” I smirked at him. “This is so we can get to the sex faster, right?”

  Braden threw his head back in laughter and I was so busy staring at him, enjoying the sight, I didn’t realize he’d drawn attention from the other customers until—

  “Braden?”

  Both our heads snapped around to the newcomer, and I had to peer past Braden to see whom the voice belonged to. As soon as I did, I wished I hadn’t.

  A tall blond was staring at Braden in a way I recognized.

  Longing.

  Pure longing.

  My gaze drifted over her, taking in her long, long pretty legs, her narrow hips, and elegant waist. Her long blond hair floated around her shoulders in perfect tousled waves framing a beautiful face. Not pretty, not even striking, out-and-out, turning-heads-everywhere beautiful.

  “Fiona.” For some reason Braden’s grip on my hand tightened when he said her name. I sensed his discomfort and found myself leaning into him in support.

  Fiona’s green eyes flew to my face and then back to his quickly. It was as if I didn’t exist. She stepped tow
ard him. “How are you?”

  “I’m good. You?” His tone was polite.

  “Fine. It’s been a while.”

  “It has.”

  “Nonfat iced vanilla latte!” the kid behind the counter called.

  “That’s me.” Fiona sighed regretfully. “It was so good to see you.”

  There was an awkward moment where she waited for Braden to say the same. Instead he said, “All the best.”

  Ugh.

  I almost felt sorry for her.

  She flushed, nodded tightly, and turned to grab her drink. She didn’t look back at us as she hurried out of the shop.

  “Ex-girlfriend?” I queried.

  His grip on my hand loosened a little. “Sort of.”

  “Sort of?”

  “Let’s get our coffee first.”

  Braden grinned when I ordered an Americano to go.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  I narrowed my eyes at his mysterious amusement. “Seriously, what?”

  “You’re the first woman I’ve dated who ordered a coffee. No nonfat, skinny, iced mocha whatever. Just coffee.”

  I grinned at him but I was deadly serious when I said, “Don’t confuse the simplicity of my drink with me, Braden Carmichael. There is nothing simple about getting into this thing with me. Merely a heads-up.”

  His eyes smoldered.

  “What did I say this time?” I tried to huff but it came out all breathy and turned on.

  “We need to get to know each other. Fast.”

  This time I was the one who threw my head back in laughter.

  And it felt good.

  Fuckity fuck fuck.

  It felt so good.

  ***

  “So tell me about the model,” I said, as we walked toward Princes Street gardens with our coffees to go.

  “The model?”

  “Fiona.”

  “She’s not a model. She’s a financial advisor.”

  “Beautiful and smart.” Wonderful.

  Braden shot me an arrogant look out of the corner of his eye. “No need for jealousy, Jocelyn. Fiona and I were casual.”

  “She didn’t look so casual back there.”

  “We started out casual. As soon as I realized she was starting to get serious, I broke things off.”

  “I’m confused.”

  “Why?”

  “You said you didn’t want us to be casual but you wanted to be casual with her …”

  This time he studied me as we walked. “You’re not Fiona.”

  Something about this pissed me off. “So you pick and choose who you get serious with?”

  Hearing the edge in my voice only seemed to delight him. It was becoming increasingly obvious that for whatever reason, Braden got off on my irritation. “What is bothering you? That I didn’t want more than sex from her or that I want more than sex from you?”

  His question stumped me. “I’m …well … look at her.”

  “She’s very attractive,” he agreed.

  “Is that your type?”

  He considered the question. “I suppose you could say so.”

  “Well, what does Kiersten look like?”

  “Tall. Blond. Beautiful.”

  So it was his type.

  “You don’t cross me as a woman who’s insecure about her looks, Jocelyn.”

  I wasn’t a woman who was insecure about her looks and the fact that he had me questioning my attractiveness pissed me off.

  “I’m not,” I snapped, and then gestured to my legs. “But if you hadn’t noticed, I’m not a model.”

  “If you hadn’t noticed, I couldn’t give a fuck how tall you are.” He shot me a quelling look. “What are you really trying to ask me?”

  “If you’re a serial monogamist?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

  But that was what was really bothering me.

  The truth was I didn’t know if I wanted to start something with Braden, something serious. The thought made my throat close and my heart speed out of control. But I was playing chicken with my issues and I was determined to at least try to win.

  However, I wasn’t too happy about the idea of gambling with my emotional well-being over a guy who was going to decide to get untangled from me three months down the line.

  “Okay.” He nodded at me, seeming to sense that I was serious, and that his answer really meant something. “Here’s my history for you, babe. I liked being in a relationship. It was the kind of man I was. And when I was young, too young, I fell in love with a girl called Analise. We married when I was twenty-two.”

  The news that he was a divorcee hit me like a punch to the gut. So he definitely could get serious when he wanted to. I didn’t know if that made me feel better or worse.

  “Analise was an Australian post-grad student. We’d only been together a year before I proposed, and we were only married for two. The first nine months were great. The next three months rocky. The last year hell. We fought a lot. She said I was emotionally distant. And when I think about it, that was true. Thank fuck.” His eyes came back to me. “The thought of handing her—someone as vindictive as her—all my personal crap …”

  “Like ammunition in her hands,” I murmured, understanding completely.

  He nodded, his gaze sharpening at whatever he found in my expression. “I believe you work hard to make a marriage work. I didn’t want to give up. But one day, not too long before my father passed away, he called me and asked me to check a property we were trying to sell. He told me there had been a complaint about dripping water in the downstairs flat, so I went along to check. I didn’t find a leak, but I found Analise in bed with a close friend of mine from school. My dad had known. They’d been going behind my back for six months.”

  The thought of someone doing that to him stunned me. “How could she?” I whispered.

  Braden’s eyes softened. “It doesn’t hurt anymore. It was the best thing that could have happened. In retrospect, I doubt I was anything more than infatuated by her.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “She moved back to Australia when she realized she wasn’t going to get a penny out of me.”

  “And from there … did you meet anyone else?”

  “I was in and out of relationships right up until I met Kiersten.”

  “And she screwed you over, too.” That ache I felt in my chest sharpened, clarified. Braden had been put through the ringer by women. Surely that had affected him.

  “I’m not screwed up over women, Jocelyn. Yes, my own mother was not the greatest example, and yes, I’ve had a few women mess me around. But I also grew up with a pseudo stepmum who alone could restore any man’s faith in women. I know plenty of good women. I know they exist. I never wanted anything serious for a while after I had Abby. She deserves all my attention, my focus. I will always put her first. However, that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want. And when I want something badly enough … I’ll go after it.”

  I stopped by Ross Fountain. “And you want to try something more. With me?”

  In answer, he stepped right into my space and settled his free hand on my waist. I stared up into his eyes, wanting to melt into him and run away from him at the same time. “I can’t do casual with you, Jocelyn.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re not like anyone I’ve ever met before.”

  “And you want to fuck me,” I cracked.

  He bent his head to my ear and his lips brushed my skin. “More than I’ve wanted to fuck anyone ever.”

  Despite the warmth of the summer’s day my nipples peaked against my T-shirt and I was trembling from need so much, I clutched tighter onto my coffee in fear it would drop right out of my hand. “What if it’s a letdown?” I whispered.

 
Braden pulled back to stare into my eyes. “Not possible.”

  “You cocky bastard,” I whispered against mouth, “you don’t play fair.”

  “I intend to play any way it takes to keep you.”

  My eyes widened at his declaration. “You don’t even know me.”

  He grinned as he let go of my waist and pulled back. He took a sip from his coffee, his pale gaze glittering with mischief. “That’s what today is about. So tell me … how can a midlist writer and part-time bartender not only afford a two-bedroom flat in Morningside but is able to buy a fifteen hundred-pound book series like she was buying a pint of milk?”

  Shit fuckity shit fuck.

  I turned away, sipping at my coffee. My parents were killed in a car crash when I was fourteen, leaving me everything. “My family has money.” I shrugged like it was no big deal. “My family, on my dad’s side, originally came from Louisiana. My great-grandfather made a lot of money in oil.”

  “Where does your family live now?”

  “They moved to Virginia. That’s where I grew up.”

  “And they’re okay with you being in Scotland?”

  “Well, my mom was Scottish.”

  He was quiet a beat. “Was?”

  My heart threatened to pound out of my chest.

  Tell him!

  Tell him the truth or lose out. Again!

  I opened my mouth to give him the words, but they got stuck. I was feeling sweaty and dry-mouthed and my heart was racing so hard, I thought I might throw up.

  Nothing was worth this feeling, right?

  Right?

  I mean, he didn’t need to know everything about me right away.

  “I …” I stopped because he’d trusted me with a lot and I felt like I owed him an explanation. “It’s not an easy subject for me. My family. And it’s not that I don’t want to …” I gestured between us. “Only … maybe we could table that conversation for later?”

  Braden scrutinized me. It felt like he did that forever. Whatever he saw seemed to satisfy him because in answer, he slid his hand around my waist and led me into walking again. He dumped his empty coffee cup in a trash can and then took mine to do the same. “Tell me why you wanted to be a writer.”