Mistake (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Allyson Young

  “Jenna!” No mistaking that voice. Not a nightmare, then, but a real life one.

  “I’m coming!” She pulled a handful of tissues from the box on the table and hissed as she applied them to the cut. It was a clean slice with no pieces of glass inside, at least that she could see, so she closed her fingers around the tissues and headed to the door.

  Working the lock with one hand, she was finally able to throw open the door. Bryce loomed over her, his face dark with fury, amazing eyes nearly black. He walked right into her, forcing her to give ground or be run over.

  “What’s going on?” He didn’t modulate his tone and she resisted the urge to clap both hands over her ears.

  “What are you doing here?” she countered, instructing her body to stand down.

  “Your friends called me. They hadn’t heard from you today and apparently you call them every day. And you didn’t answer your phone. They got worried and called me. Well, they called the fucking station and the station cop called me because he knows you’re my woman. Were my woman,” he amended.

  The air whistled out of her lungs and black swirled before her eyes. Somehow she managed to take a breath and not blow up right before his very eyes. She pretended to be the queen of cool with every bit of resolution she possessed.

  “I’m sorry they bothered you. It won’t happen again. I’ve been busy. I’ll call them. Good night.”

  His big body tensed further at her calm, cool tone and he visibly controlled himself. His remarkable eyes studied her carefully. Blowing out a breath of his own, he asked, “Are you okay?”

  “You asked me that last night. Same answer. Now leave.” Her voice remained under her control but she wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold it together.

  “What’s wrong with your hand?” Of course. He was a cop and missed nothing of import. Too bad he’d missed her stupid infatuation and hadn’t cut her loose earlier before her heart was fully involved. She nearly closed her eyes but gritted her teeth instead.

  “I cut it. Now go.”

  “You’ve been drinking.”

  “Obviously not enough because I can still see you. Leave.”

  “Jenna.”

  “Bryce.”

  He blew out another breath and reached for the hand holding the now visibly crimson tissues. She snatched it away. “Jenna, let me see your hand.”

  “I want you to leave. No, I need you to leave. No more chances at fucking me over, Bryce. No fake kindness. I figured out what we had. Go.” She inwardly cursed at what she revealed but decided pride meant squat, just like pity. She was going to kill Judith and Carla when she found the energy.

  “Good to hear you figured out what we had, then, sweetheart, because I haven’t.”

  “Yes, you did.” And in that moment, Jenna recognized she spoke the truth, so she followed it with the coup de grace, blindly wanting to hurt him the way he’d hurt her. “It was different for you, too, and scared the shit out of you. I never pegged you for a coward but that’s exactly what you are.”

  The look seizing his features actually scared her but she shrugged it off. “Leave.”

  “You don’t know anything about me,” he bit out.

  “I know more than you’d believe, although probably not the important stuff,” she agreed. “But I still know you got scared. And I’m done talking. I can protect myself, too.”

  “Right. Like you did last night, walking out into the night.” He crowded closer.

  Stepping back and raising her uninjured hand between them she nodded. “True. Lesson learned. A real hard one, Bryce. Protect yourself no matter the hand you get dealt. You’re a fine teacher. Now leave. Last time I’m telling you. A decorated detective, one up for a promotion and a celebration on Saturday, doesn’t need a complaint of harassment against him.”

  This time his face blanked and his eyes shuttered. Jenna wondered if she detected a trace of guilt or regret before he did so. He nodded, the movement sharp and definitive. “Call your posse.” He was out the door before she could add another word.

  Locking up behind him, she made her way into the bathroom to cautiously peel away the tissues now stuck to her palm. Cool running water eased away the resistant bits and pieces left right along the edges of the wound, but the blood remained coagulated except for a portion directly in the centre. Good. She couldn’t deal with any more pain, aware of how her eyes stung with unshed tears vying with the ache in her heart. Squeezing a little antibiotic cream onto the cut, she decided to wrap the whole hand in gauze, because a band aid obviously wouldn’t cut it. She bizarrely giggled at her bad pun, and startled, she looked into the mirror.

  Holy shit. Drug through a hedge backward. One of her grandmother’s favorite expressions when describing a total mess jumped to the forefront of Jenna’s mind. Her hair was wild—tangled and poufy. She was really pale and the dark circles under her eyes resembled bruises. She’d had enough black eyes in her life to know; only this time there hadn’t been any physical violence.

  Resigning herself to getting it done, she dug out her phone and went to attach it to the charger before calling Judith, the ringleader. Tethered to the wall by a six foot cord, Jenna slid down to sit on the floor, legs splayed in front of her. She was so tired.

  “Where have you been?” The shriek made her wince, and she heard the telltale sound she was being put on speaker.

  “Sorry, Jude, Carla. Busy day.”

  “Bullshit. You call us or text us no matter what studly boy has planned for you. What’s going on? He freaked on us.” Judith was doing the talking but Jenna could hear Carla grumbling in the background.

  “What do you mean, he freaked on you?” Why had she asked?

  “At first he was pissed off we called but when we explained, he got worried…he just texted a minute ago that you were okay and you’d call. What’s going on?”

  Well, shit. “Why didn’t you come over? Instead of calling Bryce?” Maybe she could distract them, buy some time before she had to share.

  “Because we’re in Tampa this weekend, Jenna, on a boat. Not that you’d remember, what with your whole life caught up with him.”

  Tears threatened again and she savagely willed them back. Talk about being selfish. “I’m sorry. So sorry. I haven’t been a very good friend for the past month. Sorry.”

  “Oh for fuck’s sake, Jenna. We all forget our friends a little when we’re new with somebody. But we do connect every day.”

  “I know. Bryce dumped me last night and I spent the day feeling sorry for myself.” There it was.

  The silence stretched out. Carla broke it. “Honey. Oh, Jenna. We’ll come home tomorrow morning.”

  “No, you won’t,” Jenna replied with asperity, studying her pedicure to maintain the facade. “It’s a long weekend and you waited a long time to go sailing. I’ll still be here Monday night and you can come for dinner. I’ll be ready to talk then.” Or never.

  “We’ll take you out for dinner.”

  “Nope. Come here.”

  Amidst a flurry of reassurances and farewells, her friends rang off and Jenna closed her phone. It seemed too much of an effort to get up and go to bed, but she managed, leaving the light burning in the living room, the broken glass still lying on the coffee table. It would serve as a reminder in the morning of how stupid she’d been to hope when she cleaned it up. And she had no idea what else she would do to while away the day, and the one afterwards until her friends came to hold her good hand.

  * * * *

  Bryce didn’t go back to join the guys at the bar. There were several women hanging out at the next table, and it didn’t take much to convince himself that he could have taken any one of them home, but he wasn’t interested. He had no doubt the interest would return in short order. He didn’t go without sex for any length of time and intended to meet his carnal needs for the rest of his life. It was just that he required some space to sort out the issue that was Jenna Muirhead before he let his friends know it was done. Each and every one
of them had commented on her in one favorable way or another, and a couple had already asked about her tonight. He couldn’t think clearly with their bias, so he went back to his place.

  A couple of beers later, he figured he was over it. It had taken a while to assimilate the relief he’d felt when she answered the door, and aside from her hand, she was physically okay. His protective instincts were naturally aroused at the sight of her hand, but it was superficial—the bleeding had stopped even in the short time he talked with her—and he knew trying to help her take care of it would have escalated into something to cause further animosity.

  The anxious call from her friends initially enraged him, making him think she was trying to get to him to patch things up and ignore his edict before he realized they were genuinely worried. He then tried to call her. After several aborted attempts in as many minutes, he hit the parking lot and had his truck fired up and moving. His buddies had made catcalls and whip snapping sounds in his wake but he didn’t enlighten them. He refused to believe Jenna would…but stranger things had happened, and he knew he’d hurt her with his rejection.

  Her accusation rang in his head. Not the coward part. Bryce already knew he was a bona fide coward. But Jenna had been different. What they had was different. Maybe even special. Kind of like what he remembered from many years earlier when he and Valerie—he lurched to his feet and headed to the fridge. That was why he didn’t date women like Jenna, although to be fair, he didn’t know she was that kind of woman, the kind who didn’t do the casual sex and occasional hook up thing.

  The instant he laid eyes on her that afternoon in the station, he was impossibly drawn to her. She resembled a bright, colorful flower among the drab grays and institutional dirty creams of the station. Jonsson, the station’s self-appointed playboy, was all over her, leaning to point out certain points on the form while he leered down the front of her dress or blatantly perused the length of her shapely legs. With her visible makeup and stilettos, and especially those fish net stockings, Bryce initially mistook her for a hooker. That was until he got close enough to look into her eyes and saw none of the cold, disinterested look marking women who sold themselves, the only way they could protect who they really were from the vagaries of the men who purchased their services.

  Borne on feelings of intrigue, lust and something he didn’t care to label, he’d offered her a ride home, noting the smell of alcohol, although he believed her later when she indicated it had been just the one glass she’d imbibed. He knew the place that housed the bridal shower she’d been attending, and liked the fact she’d packed it in early. The antics people got up to there. He liked to party, but still…

  The sexual tension between them on the drive to her place didn’t dim one iota, although he remembered introducing himself and making obligatory small talk. Jenna hadn’t shared much more when he thought about it. He had helped her out of his truck, noting her quiet pleasure at his gentlemanly action. His behavior once they shut the door of her house behind them was anything but, not that she complained or in any way indicated she didn’t enjoy it.

  Bryce hadn’t fallen on a woman after meeting her just a half hour earlier in his life, unless maybe as a teenager when all he could think about was finding his next hot pussy. Not that he managed as much as he hoped for then, none of his friends did, but it made for some happy wishful thinking. But Jenna…her scent, trapped within the confines of his vehicle, made him crazy, just as her full, pouting mouth did. She’d turned into his arms and they’d crashed together, mouths blindly seeking, tongues duelling, and their hands frantically pulling away pieces of clothing.

  Dropping to his knees, he’d yanked her panties down, catching a glimpse of swollen, pink pussy lips, glistening with her arousal. And god how incredible she’d smelled there. His cock throbbed in response to the memory. Bobbing up to his feet, because while he’d wanted to taste her, he needed to be inside of her more, he dragged the sexy dress up to her waist. The neckline was skewed to reveal her left breast, the one closest to her heart, its nipple taut, and Bryce dipped his head to suckle at it, fisting his hands in the fabric of her dress, backing her to the wall. Jenna’s head fell back to reveal the long length of her throat as he allowed her tender bud to slip from his mouth. Her hands never left his skin, burrowing under his opened shirt, stroking his chest, toying with his chest hair. His pants were open, the belt buckle released and his cock struggled to make its way to the woman he badly wanted to fuck.

  “Hold your dress up,” he rasped and her eyes fluttered open. Her hands obediently replaced his at her waist and he dug in his pocket for his wallet, cursing his sudden clumsiness. But he found the condom and tore open the packet with the ease of long practice, sheathing himself while she watched, her breath coming in pants, the scent of her arousal mixing with his musk.

  “Wrap your legs around my waist,” he ordered, taking hold of her dress again and getting a firm grip on her curved hips.

  Jenna put her hands on his shoulders and hopped up, long legs enclosing him, and he unerringly thrust inside her like they’d choreographed the move a hundred times. They moaned simultaneously and he distinctly recalled how their eyes met in response, the glint of startled humor in hers probably reflected in his. Fuck.

  It had been a frenzied fucking against the wall and was over quickly, different than his usual finesse and skill. But she was primed, ready and took charge of her own pleasure, rubbing her clit against him urgently. They climbed together and found it within seconds of each other, her sheath rippling along his cock like liquid heat, milking his response. At least he’d managed to let her make it first.

  The smart move would have been to take his leave once a reasonable period of time had elapsed, maybe have a drink and build some distance. But Jenna smiled at him, adrift on her release, and he decided he wanted her again. Not another day, but right away, as he was quickly recovering. So he’d lowered her feet to the floor and kissed her. Maybe that was his first mistake. They’d spent the rest of the day in her bed, learning each other, finding those places that brought the best response and the most pleasure, although he found he needed many more times with her to continue that exploration. He hadn’t concluded the search either, would have taken far more time past last night, but she assessed what they had and inferred there was more, that she wanted more, and that he couldn’t do. Not special. Been there, done that and carried the hidden scars to prove it.

  The month they had together was a pleasurable blur. Bryce really hadn’t noticed how quickly the time passed, not that they did much more than have dinner together or catch up with his friends for drinks. And then go to one of their homes afterwards for sex of course. Incredible, mind blowing sex. Bryce had a fair amount of sex, all of it casual since Valerie, and a lot of it was really good, but there was something different with Jenna. Special…nope, he wasn’t going there. And he wasn’t going to remember how she made him laugh, seemed to read his mind sometimes, occasionally finished his sentences, not to mention how many interests they had in common. The woman actually liked sports and was knowledgeable. Considering the length of time they’d been together, a long time by his standards, Bryce felt badly he hadn’t offered Jenna an explanation, but he didn’t talk to anybody about Valerie. Ever. The other women he had after the woman he nearly married were casual and knew the score. That was his error with Jenna. He hadn’t set the game rules.

  Chugging the rest of his beer, Bryce chucked the bottle into the recycle bin and headed to his lonely bed. He’d pull it together and get on with his life. There was no place for further remorse and regret. He had a bellyful already.

  Chapter Three

  Sunday was as bad as Jenna feared. She didn’t swim because of her hand, knowing that being in the pool with an open wound would be frowned upon, and while it wasn’t a major injury, the chlorine would sting like fury. Her house was clean, and yard work didn’t appeal considering she couldn’t stand to wear gloves while playing in the dirt. She decided to go grocery shop
ping, making a list for the meal she would put together for Carla and Judith the next day.

  Sleep had been elusive, primarily because her heart kept offering an opinion about Bryce showing up all worried about her and then acting concerned about her hand. Her brain firmly explained he really had no choice but to follow up on a concern voiced by her best friends, especially considering his chosen profession. Humiliation countered both opinions, surfacing because she kept replaying the way she’d laid it out for him, sharing how his rejection had devastated her. So much for pretending she was just fine and over him.

  The reflection in the mirror above the bathroom vanity made her wonder if someone else had invaded her body. Skilful makeup application soothed the worst of the devastation, as did a judicious use of hair product and accessories. She chose a pair of dark wash jeans, topping them with a tight fitting tank in a shocking shade of pink and then added a black jacket in case the stores were already cranking up the air conditioning. Deferring to the walking she planned to do, she set aside her boots with the stacked heels and shoved her feet into a comfortable pair of sneakers.

  As she exited her house, her phone rang and she paused on the steps to answer it, noting the unfamiliar number.

  “Jenna? It’s Karen.”

  Shit. “Hello, Karen.” Did her voice sound as forced as the effort she made?

  “I’m at the gym. I thought you might be here.”

  “No. I hurt my hand so had to give it a miss.” Why was the woman calling her? Jenna had highly doubted she’d hear from Karen once she knew Bryce dumped her.

  “Oh. Sorry to hear that, Jenna. Um, I wonder if you’d mind finding a time to help me pick out an outfit for Saturday? Unless…”