I wasn’t ready to go. Not yet.
Forcing my attention away from her, I downed the rest of my drink, and then ordered another.
She leaned in. “I’ll take another as well.”
We regarded her. She was a small thing. No more than five-foot five. The bartender and I exchanged a smirk before he turned. She was probably one of those women who said they could handle their own, but then two drinks later were on their ass.
She flinched back, a smile brewing at the corners of her mouth. “What?”
I eyed the glass in her hand.
Her eyebrows wrinkled, lips parting with shock. “You think I can’t handle my liquor?”
I tried not to grin. Really, I did, but she was so damn cute.
She stuck her hand out again. “I’ll bet you tonight’s tab I can out drink you.”
Taking her hand in mine, I shook it. Humor splashed across my chest in calm, easy waves. “You sure about that, sweetheart?”
“First off, my name isn’t sweetheart. Secondly, I’m surer than that team of yours winning the World Series.”
My smile wobbled a little. “Ouch.”
I felt disarmed around her. A woman who enjoyed sports, liquor, and a good laugh. For years, I begged Corinne to come out with me. In the beginning of our relationship, she did, though I could always tell she hated it. Years passed, and I stopped asking. We sort of separated our hobbies. She did her thing. I did mine.
It was lonely. I was sure she felt the same, but I didn’t know how to fix it anymore. I wouldn’t force her to enjoy what I did. She would never admit to me if she wanted me around. There was this barrier forming between us that I didn’t know how to stop.
“So.” Jessica pulled her drink closer to her. “What do you do for a living, Jack?”
“I’m a broker. You?”
“I run an ice cream shop over on Bedford.”
“Ice cream, eh?”
Her smile turned sweet. “We make the finest artisan ice cream out there. Ask anyone.” She paused. “Except the owner of the shop down the street. An awful woman, she is. Tells lies to her customers about us.”
A smirk tore across my mouth. “Tough competition?”
She snorted. “More like jealous, petty haters.” She swirled the straw in her drink, ice cubes dancing. “Do you like what you do, Jack?”
My head tilted left and right. “I never really thought about it. I guess I do. It has great potential and pay.”
“That doesn’t sound very convincing.”
I laughed. “I mean… who ever really likes their job?”
“I do.” Her words shot out like a bullet. “Every day I get to create something that brings a smile to people’s faces. It’s rewarding.”
“Making money is rewarding. Securing a deal is rewarding.”
“But don’t you see the difference?” She opened herself more to me. “You find the reward in personal success. I find the reward in making others happy. It’s a very different feeling. Something that brings peace to the soul.”
I didn’t know how to swallow that. “When a deal is closed, my clients are happy. I’m happy. It’s a win-win.”
The green in her eyes shifted, deepening. “Yet here you sit, trying to drink the stress away.”
A low chuckle vibrated in my chest. “It’s that obvious?”
“Nah.” Her gaze turned playful. “Just in those tense shoulders. And that permanent frown on your lips. The way you grimace every time a suit sidles up to the bar.”
She was alarmingly observative. I couldn’t remember the last time someone took the time to really look at me. To see past the guard I kept up.
“When I first sat down,” she continued, “there was this vibe about you. A blackish purple.” Her finger touched to her lip. “Misery.”
“Misery?”
Her head dipped up and down. “But not now.”
“Oh?”
Her musing trailed over an invisible barrier around me. “No. Now, you’re an orangey-yellow. Happy.”
I was, and I didn’t know what to do with that admittance.
Her hand slid across my shoulder. A light squeeze. The touch intimate. “It’s okay, Jack.” Her voice turned confidential. “I won’t tell anyone you dabbled on the bright side.”
Five shots and two beers later, I nearly fell out of my seat as she hollered with laughter. The deep-bellied kind that infected the soul. It topped the booming voices spiking in the bar. Grazed the ceiling.
Weeks upon weeks of stress dissolved from my chest, replaced by primal contentment. I rested my head on my hand, my cheeks burning at the corners with fatigue as I watched her. Talking to her felt second nature. It had been so long since someone opened up to me. Listened. Let me in.
“I told you my team was gonna win.”
A grunt sputtered past my lips. “Luck.”
“Luck my ass!” She pointed at me, laughter curled in her smile. “You’re shwasted.” A small hiccup. “Tell me…” She tried desperately to speak past strains of giggles. “How many fingers am I holding up?”
I squeezed one eye shut, her fingers fading together. “Well, if you’d stop moving your hand, damn it.”
Another burst of laughter rose from the depth of her. “I’m not even moving!”
I swiped at her hand. “Four?”
“Two!”
“All right. Fine. Your turn. How many?” I held up two fingers.
“Two!” I feared she’d float away on a cloud of laughter. “Eddie!”
The bartender glanced up.
“I won the bet! Please put my tab on his.”
With a weak groan, I slid my credit card across the bar. “We were wrong about her, eh?”
Eddie gave a small chuckle, turning to the register. After I signed the receipt, I fiddled with my wallet. For the life of me, I couldn’t get the card to line up. The fucker wouldn’t cooperate.
“Here.” Jessica handed me the receipt, her bottom lip pulled in between her teeth. “Put this in there, too.”
I blinked sluggishly, tucking the folded paper somewhere in the back.
Her eyebrows were hitched. “Walk me out?”
“Okay.”
We stumbled our way to the door, and then I hailed her a cab.
She leaned her head against my shoulder, her weight pressing against me. “I had a good time.”
The hot night fidgeted with risky hunger. Bodies flooded the sidewalks, chanting out their team’s name in victory. If tonight’s loss was any indication of how my deal would go at the firm, then I was in deep trouble.
“Did you?” She loosened a couple buttons on her blouse. A bead of sweat trailed down her neck, disappearing between the supple valley.
My body tightened in response. Instinct, or something more like guilt, smacked me upside the head in warning.
I was married. My wife was at home. This was wrong.
But I couldn’t lie.
“Yeah,” I admitted. I forced my attention on the street.
A cab finally pulled up. “This is me.” With a small turn, she smiled, a tinge of regret pulsing within her pupils. “See you around, Jack.”
“Bye.” I watched her get in, and then disappear down the street. Grateful I didn’t know her last name.
It wasn’t until the following day, when I was at a coffee shop getting a cappuccino for my wife, that I noticed the receipt in my wallet. A tiny bomb waiting to explode.
She’d written her number and email address on it.
That moment was the beginning to my end.
Chapter 2
Jack
My feet were propped up on the desk in my office, the receipt spread open in front of me. A loaded gun pointed in my direction.
I glanced at the small metal garbage can beside my desk. Throw it away.
My fingers twitched against the arms of my chair. Muscles pulled taut. Thoughts collided against one another, warring.
You can’t see her again. It’s wrong. Throw it away.
The devil standing over my shoulder retired with a disappointed sigh.
I turned at the knock on the door.
“Hey.” Corinne stood in the doorway, wrapped in her morning robe. Sleep drooped across her lids. “I didn’t hear you come in last night.”
I spun in my chair, opening my arms to her. A sunny warmth spread across my chest at the sight of her. Her auburn curls swirled up into a messy bun. It was rare she wore her curls anymore. Once, a long time ago, she had her hair straightened and I’d commented on how good it looked on her. How different.
Since then, she rarely wore it any other way.
I loved her curls, but since she continued to straighten her hair, I figured she preferred it that way. I didn’t care if her hair was curly or straight. Hell, even if she were bald. She was beautiful no matter what she did.
“I picked up a coffee for you. It’s in the microwave.”
Her forehead pressed against mine. “My hero.”
“I figured it could be a peace offering for all these late nights at the office.”
She tucked the bottom of her robe up in her hands, a slow show of her creamy thighs, then sat on my lap. My hands moved without thought, wrapping around her waist. These moments were rare between us. Between my schedule and hers, we hardly saw each other. Hardly ever had a chance to touch each other.
Blood flowed to my dick. I brushed a curl from her shoulder, fingers lingering on the slender curve of bare skin. It had been at least a month since we’d had sex. Once, about a week ago, I tried, but she had been worried about being late for work and I hadn’t wanted to pressure her.
But now…
Slowly, I dragged my finger along her collarbone. Watched her eyes for the dilation in her pupils. The heady welcoming.
A giggle surged past her lips. “That tickles.” She brushed my finger aside like it was a pestilent bug, and then scratched where I’d touched.
Disappointment was a swamp I trudged through, with no escape in sight. Rejection a pin poked in my heart, all the longing and desire bubbling out as it deflated.
“Did you finish what you needed last night?”
My confidence winced from the change in subject. When would she want me the way I wanted her? Didn’t she crave my touch like I craved hers? This was our new norm—dodging each other.
With a tucked-away sigh, I said, “Yeah. I’m so close to securing this deal. If I do, everything will change for us, Corinne. If I get this promotion, it would mean big dollars. Maybe even a change in scenery.”
A frown tugged on her bottom lip. “But I like our simple life here. You know money has never been a care of mine.”
“Yet, the bills have to be paid. This house. The cars.”
“All things you’ve wanted,” she inserted, the words a low, almost-regretful whisper.
I pressed my lips to her forehead. “You’ve never complained before. Especially when buying all the stuff you use to decorate this house. It isn’t cheap.”
Her gaze dipped, shadowed with disappointment. Decay oozed in the air, reaching its black, soulless hands out. Swiping up every hope. Every tender kiss. Every possibility this morning could bring. Shoving them back into this well of misunderstanding we seemed to hover around.
Standing, her fingers grazed the edge of the desk, steps carrying her to the chair on the other side of the room. Piece by piece, the calm broke apart in my chest. Dissolved in the acid boiling in my stomach.
Corinne tended to keep her worries stored away. She never really spoke up, which made it increasingly hard to figure out where we stood. What she was feeling. How I could do better.
Sometimes, I’d get so tired trying to figure her out I just gave up. There was always this sadness in her eyes. This need I never understood. That never seemed satisfied, no matter what I did. But more than I disliked not being wanted, I hated failure.
Everything I did, I did because I wanted to impress Corinne. To make her happy. To give her all the things I never had in life. Things she never had. When I bought her car, it was because I earned my first bonus, and I wanted to do something big with it. Corinne’s car was on its way out and, even though she loved it, I figured she’d love the Infinity I bought her even more. It had all the latest features. It was reliable and easy on gas.
Or when I bought this house. I wanted to surprise her with something big. The apartment we’d been living in put her an hour away from her job. When this house came on the market, it was a deal I couldn’t pass. It put her close to her parents. Even closer to her work. She had been under an extreme amount of stress with her boss, so I figured having a nice surprise would be something to take her mind off it. One less decision she had to worry about.
But no matter what I did, it seemed like it was never enough.
My body leaned forward in my chair. “What do you think about coming out with me tonight?”
“You know I don’t like going to bars.”
I took in an inhale. Ruffled my hand through my hair. “We could go somewhere different. Maybe find some place you like. When was the last time we went out?”
Her legs tucked underneath her. “Going out is your thing, Jack. Staying in is mine. Maybe you could stay in this time…”
I chewed on the corner of my lip. Being stuck inside the house felt like being nailed shut in a coffin. I couldn’t breathe. My legs grew restless. She knew that. But I also knew the distance between us was only getting longer. “What if I asked the guys over? You get to stay in, and I still get to hang out and watch the game. How does that sound?”
Her eyebrow strung together. “I guess we could do that.”
“You sure?”
She blinked around indecision. “Yeah.”
“Really? Because you don’t seem sure.” I waited, wishing she would just be honest with me for once. I felt like a broken psychic. I couldn’t home in on her.
“I am.” She gave a faint, measured inhale. “Really, Jack. Call them up. I’ll go get ready.”
“Are you ready?” I asked, peering into the bathroom.
Corinne peered up from the mirror, her mouth half pried open as she swiped on mascara. “Just about.”
The doorbell rang a second later, so I took the stairs two at a time.
“Finley!” I said the moment the door was opened. His arms were full of beer. Garret, Sam, and a few others from the office were behind him, holding up bags of chips and more beer.
The guys were cracking open cans, chatting about the market, when Corinne finally came down. I was mid-conversation with Finley, arguing over who was going to win.
Corinne sidled up beside me, her hand draped loosely around my waist.
Pausing, Finley turned his gaze in her direction. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
A chuckle tore past my lips. “I’m sorry.” I glanced down at Corinne. “You know I suck at formalities.”
Her hand pressed against my stomach. “He’s the worst. I’m Corinne.”
“Finley,” he said, shaking her hand.
“It’s nice to finally put a face to the name.”
“Likewise.”
Corinne left my side to begin putting out the appetizers. I watched her every so often, concern stabbing pitchforks into my skin. A strained heat brewing in my belly. She wouldn’t sit still. She kept to the kitchen, wiping the counters. Refreshing the guys’ beers for them. She occupied the space like a wound-up toy. Going, going, and going until it ran out of juice. Never really settling in.
“Hey, Corinne,” Finley said halfway into the game, his arm lax on the back of the couch beside me. “Who do you pick?”
Corinne was in the middle of sweeping. She tucked her hair behind her ear, a thin veneer of agitation veiled by a smile. “I don’t know. I don’t really like sports.”
Finley laughed. “You don’t have to like it. Just pick a team. Get in on the bet with us. It’s fu
n.” His head swiveled around to everyone. “You’re making us nervous with all that cleaning. Take a night off.”
My chest tightened at the artificial smile she gave. “Thank you, but this isn’t really my thing. Can I get you something? Another appetizer?”
Heat crawled through my veins, setting a tingle on fire down the back of my neck. Why couldn’t she just try? The tension rolling off her was as obvious as an elephant in a small room. If she hadn’t wanted them to come over, why hadn’t she just told me that? Why had she agreed?
Finley looked between us, and then his smile faded. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks, though.” He turned his attention back to the game, the bottle pressed to his lips.
“Be right back.” I pushed up off the couch. “Hey.” I pulled on her waist until she faced me. “Why don’t you try to have fun with us? I know the game it boring to you… but the betting end of it can be fun.”
“Jack, I—”
“Please?”
A strained smile smoothed across her mouth. Her hands brushed over my shoulders. Down my arms until they stopped at my hands. “They’re your friends. I wouldn’t force you to go shopping with Macy and me. Just… go. Have fun with them. I’m fine. Really.”
Shock began to chip away at my reserve, followed by a surge of anger that shielded around me. I wanted this to be a good night. How did she know she wouldn’t have fun if she never tried?
“You’re right.” Squeezing her hand, I quickly let go. If this was what she wanted, then so be it. I could only try so hard. “Just forget it, Corinne.”
Hours later, I called it a night and waved the guys off. We were curled up beside each other watching a romance she chose. It was about couples giving each other a free pass for a night to do whatever they wanted.
“Could you imagine?” Corinne said, sipping on her glass of wine. It was her fourth. She wore wine like a lover wore lingerie. I could talk to her better. Get her to let me see past that guard of hers.
“You’d kill me.”
“You’d love it, though, wouldn’t you? Being able to have one night of freedom?”
Five Reasons To Go (The Risky Hearts Duet Book 2) Page 3
