Satisfaction

by Lexi Blake

  “Maybe I like to look at naked women. Did you think of that, Mr. Psychiatrist?”

  “I think you didn’t go to a strip club because you knew that would hurt Carly.”

  He chuckled, though there was no humor in the sound. “I told Carly how many strippers I’ve slept with earlier tonight. I think she knows.”

  Drew cursed under his breath. “Why would you do that?”

  He shrugged. “She should know. She thinks I’m something I’m not.”

  “What do you want to do, Bran? What do you want me to do?” Drew sounded past tired. “I thought I was doing what you wanted when I offered her a job. I thought you wanted her out. I thought if I gave her a position at 4L, then maybe she would hang around and you two could see if it would work.”

  That was where Drew was wrong. “It can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m not the kind of man she needs. You saw what happened tonight. She freaked out because of that little fight? What happens when I lose it? It’s better to let it go now. I would disappoint her in the end.” He got to his feet and motioned for the check.

  “Already taken care of,” the bartender replied with a sigh of what sounded like relief.

  “Of course it is.” He couldn’t even take care of his drunken stupor. Naturally Drew had to arrange that for him. He turned and started toward the door.

  His brother followed after him. “Let’s go back to the condo. I’ll text Taggart and we’ll pick him up on our way out.”

  And leave Carly alone? He was drunk, but he wasn’t stupid. “I’m going back ho— To her place.”

  He would sleep on the couch. It was his punishment for fucking everything up. He could have had another couple of weeks. It wouldn’t have lasted much longer than that, but he wished like hell he’d had those weeks with her.

  “She tastes like sunshine.”

  A hand steadied him. “I’m sure she does, which is a good reason to not let her see you like this. She’s seen enough for one night.”

  But then she would be alone. Despite the fact that they’d taken care of one of her problems, he couldn’t stand the thought of leaving her alone. “Someone tried to kill her last night.”

  “No, someone tried to kill Patricia.”

  “We don’t know that for sure. Carly is the one who walked through that door,” he said stubbornly. The ground seemed uneven beneath his feet, but then, wasn’t it always? When had he ever had sure and steady ground to walk on?

  Whiskey made him way too melancholy. Or then, maybe it was the fact that Carly had broken up with him.

  Not in so many words, but all he’d needed was the look on her face to know it was over before it had really begun.

  “What went on between the two of you tonight?” Drew asked, opening the passenger side of the car.

  Bran didn’t argue. He couldn’t drive. He’d been stupid to take the car out at all, and if Drew wasn’t here he would have to have called a cab. He definitely wouldn’t have called Carly. No way. He was going to sneak in quietly and try to act like they were nothing but partners again in the morning.

  Try to pretend like he’d never had his mouth on her, never ran his tongue over her skin down to her feminine flesh. Never watched her as she came, her whole body tightening under his.

  Yeah, he was going to make that happen. He would have to pretend because he wouldn’t ever forget her.

  “She decided she didn’t know me well enough. She thought she did, but the events of the evening changed her mind.” At least he wasn’t slurring. He’d managed to stop before he did. He could sort of walk. All he had to do was make it from the car to the couch.

  “I think you should come home, Bran.”

  “No. I have a job to do.” He wasn’t going to let this get the best of him. He could be better. He wasn’t going to let everyone down. He’d lost Carly. He wasn’t going to go back to Austin with his stinking tail between his legs. “Patricia Cain hired me. Not you. She wants me.”

  That was part of the problem. He shuddered thinking about it.

  The door slammed and then Drew was sliding in beside him, turning the key and moving them toward Carly’s pretty townhouse with its yellow curtains and soft pillows. Everything about the woman was inviting.

  Tired. He was so damn tired of fighting and yet he couldn’t seem to stop.

  “Give me one good reason not to pull the plug on all of this,” Drew muttered. “I think I made a horrible mistake. Riley was right. This isn’t what our father would have wanted. Not if it means losing you.”

  “You can’t make me come home.”

  “I can have you kidnapped and taken to that same freaking island where we stuffed Ellie’s sister,” Drew said under his breath.

  “I don’t want to go home.” He wanted to be with Carly. Even if he wasn’t with Carly. Even if she looked at him like he was the scum of the earth. He wanted to see this thing through. If Drew called the mission off, he wouldn’t see her again. She would take a job somewhere or that fucker Kenny Jr. would find a way to build a network around her and she would probably get married to someone who didn’t carry around a monster inside him. The next time he saw her she would be on TV talking about her perfect fucking husband and all the kids they had.

  He would go on the way he always had. He would laugh and pretend he wasn’t decaying on the inside until he couldn’t stand it a second longer and then he would take his rage out on some asshole. He’d managed to make sure whoever it was deserved it so far. He placed himself in the perfect position to find men who abused women and then he let his fists fly.

  What if one day he wasn’t so careful? What if one day he hurt someone who didn’t deserve it? Or he went too far and Drew’s money and power couldn’t get him out of it?

  Would he wind up in jail like Carly’s first husband?

  It was enough of a reason to stay away from her.

  Before he knew it, Drew was pulling into the small parking lot outside her row of townhomes. He could see the light was still on downstairs. Taggart was probably sitting up, pissed as hell that he’d been kept waiting.

  He managed to make his way out of the car and up the steps to the street.

  “You’re going to kill me, Bran.”

  He stared at her door. “Not if you don’t let me. Have you thought that maybe you should let me go? I wonder about it a lot. I know you put up with my shit because you feel guilty, but this was never about you, Drew. This was always about me. Maybe if Mom and Dad hadn’t died I wouldn’t have had to know myself so well. I wouldn’t have seen who I am deep down, but it wouldn’t change it. It would just hide it. I’m not like you and Riley and Mia.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  He shook his head. He didn’t want to talk about this shit. He hadn’t talked about it with Carly. He sure as fuck wasn’t going into it with Drew. Years and years had gone by and Drew didn’t know the full extent of how fucked up he was, and Bran wasn’t about to tell him now. He’d already had one person he cared about look at him like he was a monster. He wasn’t going for the double play.

  How long would it be before he got her out of his head? He’d lied to Drew about the strip club. He hadn’t gone because none of those women were Carly. He’d slept with them because they’d typically seen the darker side of life and accepted him for what he could give them—a good time, some cash to help them out, violence against the men who’d done them wrong.

  Carly would want more. She would want all of him, and he’d proven it wasn’t enough.

  He made his decision. He would walk in and get his things and let her alone. He would do what Drew wanted him to do. He would go home to Austin and not look back. He would let whatever happened happen.

  “If I leave with you will you look out for her?” He felt a little dead on the inside in a way that had nothing to do with the
liquor.

  “Yes,” Drew said quietly. “I’ll make sure she’s safe.”

  Bran nodded and opened the door.

  The house was as welcoming as ever, the soft light illuminating the living room. She hadn’t set up the couch. There was no blanket or pillows laid out for him. No welcome for him here anymore.

  “I think you cheat,” a deep voice said.

  “No, I’m better at this than you,” a bright, familiar one replied. “I should have taken your bet. I would have all your money at this point, Tag.”

  Drew turned off the alarm as the kitchen door swung open and Taggart walked through, shaking his head.

  “Well, I’m glad you didn’t because I would have to explain to my wife how I lost at poker to a decorator.” He nodded Bran’s way. “You okay to stay here or should I?”

  He was about to explain what was going to happen when Carly walked in. She’d changed into pajama bottoms and a T-shirt, her hair up in a bun and slippers on her feet. She looked so soft he wanted to hold her, but he’d given up that right when he’d been so vicious with her.

  “He’s fine,” Carly said before shaking her head. “All right, he smells like a bar, but he’ll be fine tomorrow, in the strictest sense of the word. Y’all head back. We have an early morning and I need to get him to bed.”

  What? How much had he had? Had he passed out?

  Carly’s hand slipped into his. “Can you make it up the stairs?”

  “The couch is down here.”

  “Adults sleep in beds, Bran. Let’s go to bed. I think you’re the one who’s going to have to rest all day tomorrow. We have to be at work bright and shiny Monday morning, and you can’t look like you drank your way through a liquor store. Or a strip club.”

  “No strip club,” he said quickly. “No. Just a bar. There weren’t even women there.”

  Drew nodded beside him. “I’m pretty sure it was a gay bar. You know I’ve always thought I would do well in one. I was right. I got hit on three times.” He looked Carly’s way. “So you can handle this one?”

  “I can,” Carly assured him.

  Something wasn’t right. “We were fighting.”

  “Yes,” she agreed. “Now we’re not. Now we’re going to bed.”

  “What about tomorrow?” Was she planning to hit him with questions all over again tomorrow?

  “We’ll deal with that as it comes. For now, come to bed with me.” Her hand squeezed his.

  And he forgot all about what he’d promised Drew. He consigned Austin to memory because there was no way he would go there when Carly was offering him something else. He let her say good-bye to his brother and Taggart, managed to remain upright while she locked the door and set the alarm. She got him upstairs and out of his clothes, tucking him in before turning out the lights and climbing in beside him.

  A warm hand brushed over his chest. “Everything’s going to be all right, Bran.”

  He reached up and put his hand over hers, holding it close to his heart as her warmth started to seep into his skin. “Stay with me.”

  She didn’t reply, but the press of her body against his was answer enough. For now. He would take what he could get.

  Bran gave in and let himself sleep.

  —

  Carly looked up from the stove as Bran walked in. She gave him a smile, remembering how he’d held on to her the night before. His arms had wound around her and he’d whispered to her.

  Stay with me.

  She hadn’t answered him, but emotion had welled deep inside her.

  You can make him want to fix himself. Taggart’s words had floated into her brain in that instance. She’d thought about them all night. She couldn’t fix Bran. No person could fix another one. But she might be able to help him see he could get better.

  “Good morning.” His words sounded gravelly, as though his throat was sore.

  “Did you take the aspirin I left for you?” She’d set the beginnings of her hangover cure by his side of the bed.

  He settled himself in the chair. “I drank the entire bottle of water, too.”

  She turned and poured the second part of the treatment. Good Colombian coffee. “Drink this while I get your breakfast ready.”

  His eyes were hooded, wary as he watched her. “Why are you doing this?”

  She’d thought about it all night long. Once she’d made her decision it had been easy to justify it. “Because you’re worth the trouble, Bran.”

  “I’m not. I really did all those things I told you I did. I wasn’t playing around with you.”

  She turned back to her bacon. The bacon was rational. Bran was not because he was a bit of a nut job. That might have scared her off the day before, but she’d decided. She’d decided on which future was worse—a future where she was safe and hadn’t tried with him, or one where she knew she’d done everything she could to make it work with a man she loved.

  She was being brave.

  “You were a manwhore,” she replied. “How many girls did you sleep with last night?”

  He sighed. “None, Carly. I went out and I got drunk because we had a fight.”

  And that had rocked his world. She’d been startled and frightened by his behavior. His pessimist brain had gone to the worst possible place.

  Something deep and dark had happened to Bran. Something that made him think he wasn’t worthy of being loved. It made him wary of conflict and always looking to be the one who got pushed away.

  “Then drink your coffee and we’ll deal with it.”

  “It doesn’t change anything,” he said, sorrow in his voice. “I’m still not willing to give you what you want.”

  “I’m not asking you to bare your soul. I’m asking you to love yourself enough to work through some issues, but if you can’t, I won’t toss you aside.” She did need to know one thing. How far was he willing to push this? If she backed off slightly, would he take that? Or was he going to be stubborn? “Unless you meant everything you said last night.”

  He moved fast for a man with what had to be a hell of a hangover. “I didn’t. Baby, I didn’t mean any of it. Please forgive me.”

  That was what she wanted. He was standing behind her, his front pressed to her back, his arms winding around her waist. “I forgive you. I hope you can be kinder to me in the future.”

  His head tilted forward, nestling in the crook of her neck. “I’m so sorry I scared you.”

  Puppy needed affection. She frowned. She had to stop thinking of him like that. “I’m all right, but you know we’re going to have to talk about it at some point.”

  He stiffened. “And if I can’t?”

  “I don’t know.” She wasn’t sure she could stay long-term with a man who wouldn’t talk to her about the important things. She would always have to be wary, always worried that he could explode again.

  He moved back and she heard the chair scuff against the floor. “I thought about going back to Austin last night. I don’t think I can do this. It bothers me being around her.”

  Hey, he was talking about something. It wasn’t what she wanted to talk about, but it suddenly felt like a breakthrough. She pulled the bacon out and left it to rest for a few minutes. “Are you talking about being near Patricia? That’s what bothers you?”

  “Yes.”

  One word. She would have to pull it out of him. She set a plate in front of him. What she’d decided the night before when Bran had gone to sleep had been that he needed normalcy. He needed routine. He found comfort and affection in knowing what happened next. She was certain that even in his adult life there had been an enormous amount of chaos. Drew had spent his time building a company and then Bran had worked there. Long hours. He needed domesticity. Her puppy needed to be domesticated.

  One day she was going to tell Ian Taggart what a bastard he was for planting that idea in her hea
d. She couldn’t seem to make it go away.

  “Do you want toast?”

  He looked up at her with wary eyes, as though she was going to kick him at any moment. “Sure.”

  “I’ve got some apricot jam.”

  “I like grape.” He said it sullenly and then shook his head. “Apricot is fine.”

  Her heart clenched. It was the first time he’d told her what he preferred. He’d spent a lifetime bending, giving in to what was available, what was easy. She fought back tears.

  “The good news is I have grape, too.” She turned away so he wouldn’t see how close she was to crying. “You will find I have jellies and jams of all kinds. Some of them I made myself. Every now and then we get invited to fruit farms and I get to come home with some truly amazing things.”

  “I can eat the apricot,” he said quietly.

  She put the grape in front of him. How often in his life had he settled because he thought he was still in a position where his wants and needs didn’t matter? His selflessness was part of his charm, but it was also part of his problems. She put a hand on his head. “I know you can but I like giving you what you want. It makes me feel good, so would you please try my grape jelly?”

  “All right.” Again he sounded wary, as though her every word was a trap.

  One thing down. “Now I need to cook the eggs. You always eat whatever I eat. I would like to know how you like your eggs, Bran. Please don’t fight me. I want to know.”

  “I like them over medium.”

  She scrambled them most of the time but that was because she rarely cared. It was a simple switch to make in order to accommodate him. It seemed to her no one accommodated Bran, or rather they did it in all the wrong ways. Drew indulged Bran’s dark side because he thought he was the reason for it. It was time to see if indulging his daily needs made him more willing to open up.

  Or she was fooling herself if she thought that taking care of a man meant he would come to need her so much he would give up his determination to keep his secrets.