3 Seconds (Time for Love Book 6)

by Bethany Lopez

  Did he come here to win me back, or is he here for something else entirely?

  Maybe he was here to tell me that he was leaving for France after graduation, I worried, then chided myself, Stop speculating and go out there and ask him why he came…

  I smoothed my hair and checked my chef coat for stains, and hoped I didn’t smell too terribly like fried food.

  I walked out into the front of the house, scanning the room looking for Brendan, which was why it took a couple seconds for me to realize that his brother, Brady, was the one waiting for me at the end of the bar.

  Hope fled me when I realized Brendan wasn’t there, and a mix of curiosity and dread took its place as I took in the hard look on Brady’s face.

  I mentally pulled up my big girl pants and walked over to where he was standing.

  “Hey, Brady,” I began with a pleasant, if not cheerful, smile. “My hostess said that you were looking for me?”

  Brady looked around the room, but I couldn’t tell if it was because he was nervous, or unsure of how he’d ended up here.

  “Yeah, look, I won’t take up much of your time … I know you have work to do.”

  When he didn’t say anything for a few moments, I prompted, “It’s fine. What did you need?”

  He let out a long breath, then brought his steely eyes to mine. “You broke my brother’s heart,” he stated, causing my heart to stutter in my chest.

  “I’m sorry that he’s upset, but I doubt he’s heartbroken. We were only together a short while … He’ll be fine,” I replied, suddenly feeling the need to flee. “But it’s really sweet that you’re so concerned for him.”

  Brady winced, then scowled, before saying, “I know my brother, and I know that he opened himself up to you in a way that he never has before, and it crushed him when you said he was a waste of time.”

  “Jeez, that’s gonna keep coming back to bite me in the ass, isn’t it,” I muttered, then threw my hands up. “I didn’t mean it the way it came out … I don’t think our time together was a waste. I was just as crushed as he was when I ended things, but I’m sure he told you why I did. Having kids is important to me, Brady, and he doesn’t want any. That’s just the way it is…”

  Brady watched me quietly through my rant, then responded softly and evenly, “Are you sure that’s what this is about? Or were you falling too hard and too fast, and looked for any excuse to end it before you took a chance.”

  “What are you talking about? I wasn’t looking for a way out…”

  “Bren said you had a problem with the age difference, and I’m sure you had doubts about him, since he’d never been in a relationship before … Maybe you were just scared.”

  “Look,” I began, starting to get annoyed with his assumptions. “I want to have kids and he doesn’t. Plain and simple. Yes, I’m older, which just makes the fact that I broke it off quickly more reasonable … Any longer and we both could have been seriously hurt.”

  Brady shot me a look, which really made me want to punch him in the stomach, then continued imparting his wisdom.

  “Maybe it’s time for you to re-evaluate what you want. Look at it this way … You raise kids for eighteen years, then they go their separate ways, and if you’re lucky, they let you in their lives on the holidays. But your partner will be with you for the rest of your life. Who you choose will be with you longer than your children, or your parents, and will be your companion for the rest of your days on this earth … If there’s even a chance that Brendan is that person, should you really be so quick to throw it all away?”

  I let his words filter through my brain, even though I was quickly finding him to be the most annoying person I’ve ever met.

  “Tell me this, Obi Wan, how many successful relationships have you had?”

  Brady’s pursed his lips and rubbed his temples, as if I were the one frustrating him, and replied, “I don’t know how much Bren told you about our parents, but they had the kind of relationship that others dream of … Plus, I’ve been around Brock and Victoria, and anyone who’s seen them, knows that they are in it for the long haul.” He pushed back from the bar and looked ready to leave, but gave me one last nugget to mull over. “Plus, I’ve seen how miserable Brendan is, and I saw the look on your face when you realized that it was me here to see you, and not Bren. Just think about it.”

  I watched him weave through the tables and exit the pub before I allowed the tears that were welling to spill over, then took refuge in the bathroom.

  Was he right? Had I been looking for an excuse to end things with Brendan?

  I had been finding faults with our coupling since the night we met, the age difference, the fact that he was a student, but I hated to think that I’d intentionally been looking for a way out.

  I sat on the small sofa that rested against the wall in our ladies room, looking at the landscape of Ireland, without really seeing the beautiful portrait.

  Maybe I needed to take more time to evaluate what I’d done, and what I wanted. I should probably talk to Brendan, instead of avoid him, and see how being around him made me feel.

  Was I heartbroken? Was he?

  I guessed that I needed more time to figure everything out. I just hoped I had the time to do it.

  Chapter Twenty-One ~ Brendan

  I just had to make it through the day and it was finally the weekend. I had a gig with my brothers Saturday night, but that was the only thing I had to do, other than get ready for my finals next week.

  The finals didn’t worry me. I knew I was well prepared, and God knew, I was ready to be done with this class.

  My eyes moved from the clock to the front of the room, as the object of my despair went over the details of what we could expect to happen next week. It hurt to look at her, her red hair vibrant against the white of her chef coat, as she moved elegantly around the room.

  I wanted her so badly I ached with it. Night after night, day after day, she was all I could think about.

  I was consumed.

  Obsessed.

  At least I’d gotten some good material out of it, I thought bitterly.

  Hell, who was I kidding, I couldn’t care less about my music, my food, or anything else for that matter … All I wanted, was her.

  “Did you hear that Chef Agard himself is flying in this weekend to be here when the announcement goes out about who got the job?”

  I turned my head, annoyance apparent on my face to see Calla looking at me with a strangely smug expression on her face.

  I don’t know what she had to be smug about, I was kicking her ass and was a shoe in for the job in France.

  So I shrugged and turned my attention back to the clock, hoping she’d get the hint and go away.

  “They were married, you know…” she continued, not taking the hint.

  “Who?” I asked, my voice full of boredom.

  “Callaghan and Agard.”

  When I whipped my head and locked eyes on Bronagh, Calla let out a wicked chuckle.

  “Guess you didn’t know…” was all she said, before the chair scrapped against the floor, indicating her departure.

  Bronagh and Chef Agard?

  Yeah, she’d said she was married, but I realized she’d never said to who, and I’d never asked. I guess I’d never imagined it was anyone I knew…

  It finally registered that class was dismissed when everyone started gathering their things, and I looked over in time to see Bronagh’s retreating back. I jumped to my feet, ignoring the calls of my friends, and took off after her.

  I‘d almost caught up to her when she turned the corner. Not caring who was around, I opened the first door we came to, at the same time grabbing her by the arm and shoving her inside, then closed the door behind us.

  “What…?” Bronagh exclaimed, her eyes wide when she saw that it was me.

  “Chef Agard is your ex?” I whispered tightly, getting right to the point.

  Bronagh lowered her eyes to my mouth, and I became conscious of the fact tha
t I was still holding her arm in my grasp. I loosened my hold, but didn’t let go.

  “Yes,” she admitted, her tongue darting out to lick her lips, distracting me.

  “Why didn’t you tell me? We talked about your ex, and we talked about my time working under Agard, but you never said we were talking about the same person.”

  Bronagh closed her eyes and sighed.

  “I know … You just … looked up to him so much, and I didn’t want to ruin that for you. He is an amazing chef, and I didn’t want to taint that experience for you somehow.”

  “I can understand that, but imagine what it felt like hearing that you were married to someone I considered a mentor by Calla, rather than you.”

  Bronagh sucked her lower lip between her teeth, then blew out a deep breath.

  “You’re right, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let you get blindsided like that, I guess a part of me liked that you looked up to him … Like maybe I wasn’t as blind and stupid as I felt whenever I thought of my marriage to him.”

  “Bronagh,” I sighed, unable to stop myself from running my hand over her hair. “You weren’t stupid; he’s not only a talented chef, but a charming man … Plus, he was your husband, you had every reason to expect him to be faithful. I just wish you would have trusted me enough to tell me.”

  “I did,” she began, then amended, “No, I do, trust you. But I wanted not only to preserve the memory you had of him, but to not have it look like I was trying to force you not to take that job…”

  I nodded as her words penetrated the green haze of jealousy I’d been feeling.

  “You were trying to protect me,” I said as more of a statement than a question.

  We were close enough that I felt her nod, her hair brushing against my skin with the movement, and I heard her sharp intake of breath as I moved my face closer. I nuzzled her with my cheek, then the side of my nose, rubbing against the side of her face like a cat staking its claim.

  She swayed a little, and I knew her body was reacting to my nearness, just like I was quickly being lit like a live wire, from the inside out. I wouldn’t have been surprised if you could physically see the electricity between us, shooting off like tiny bolts of lightening. My body was tight with need, and I could no longer keep my hands off of her luscious body.

  No longer conscious of our surroundings, or where we were, I slid my hands up her arms, over her shoulders, and to her neck, grasping her smooth skin and maneuvering her head to give myself full access to the creamy expanse of flesh. I ran my nose up her throat, nuzzling, then letting my lips lightly graze her skin with whisper-soft kisses. When she moaned low in her throat, I parted my lips and licked her lightly, with quick flicks of my tongue.

  “Touch me,” she whispered throatily, and I was helpless to her demand.

  I unbuttoned her chef coat slowly, then slid my hands inside, under her tank top, until I found the soft skin I was looking for. Moving upward, I softly caressed the underside of her breasts with my thumbs, causing her head to fall back and sweet little noises to emit from her.

  Spurred on by the fact that she’d obviously been missing me as much as I’d been missing her, I moved one hand lower, delving into the waistband of her pants and teasing her through the delicate lace of her panties.

  “God, Brendan,” she moaned, causing my cock to harden painfully.

  Bronagh unbuttoned her pants and lowered the zipper, giving me easier access to body, but still I toyed with her. Each whimper and frustrated sigh just fueled my desire to make her come harder than ever before, so I ran my knuckles against her throbbing wet flesh, resisting the urge to buck against her.

  “Bren, please,” she begged, causing a fever to overtake me. I pushed the material to the side and entered her slowly with my fingers, my vision blurring when she sighed audibly and thrust against my hand.

  “So wet,” I said softly at her ear, flicking my tongue out to caress her earlobe as I simultaneously added another finger to her core.

  “Don’t stop,” she said, writhing against me, her ardor making my hips thrust of their own volition, my body taking over as it tried to gain its own release.

  I sucked her neck as I tried to calm my own libido, my fingers fucking her swiftly as she rode my hand.

  “More,” she pleaded, and something inside of me snapped.

  With one swift movement I had her pants around her ankles and I was kneeling before her. My tongue lapped her swollen lips before entering her. Bronagh’s knees began to buckle, so I brought my hands up to cup her ass, bringing her sweet pussy even closer to my face, as I kept her upright and steady.

  She fisted her hands in my hair, her hips moving in time with the thrusts of my tongue, and when I moved my nose up and came in contact with her clit, she lost all semblance of control and fucked my face until she came. The sounds, smells, and feel of Bronagh surrounded me, and, unable to hold back, I came in my pants like a teenaged boy.

  Sanity began to eek back in to my consciousness. I remembered where we were, and mentally punched myself for losing control.

  I pulled Bronagh’s pants back up as I stood, then let her take over as I took a step back.

  Her eyes were still slightly glazed, and her fingers trembled as she buttoned her jacket.

  “Shit,” she muttered, taking a deep breath before finally bringing her eyes to meet mine.

  “Are you okay?” I asked nervously, hoping that even if she regretted losing our minds in a closet at school, that she didn’t regret the act itself.

  “Yeah,” she said shakily, pushing her hair back and attempting to smooth the red locks down. “I need to go, I have a meeting soon.” She looked back down, then licked her lips before adding, “We’d better go separately, just in case there are still people in the halls.”

  I nodded that I understood, then watched silently as she slipped out without another word.

  Leaning back against the wall, I hung my head, a million emotions warring within me.

  Apparently she hadn’t missed me as much as I’d hoped, not if she was that quick to run out on me. She’d just succumbed to the moment, her body wanting me, even if her mind did not.

  Feeling worse than I had just days before, I gave her a few seconds’ head start, then stormed out of the building, wishing I never had to darken its halls again.

  Chapter Twenty-Two ~ Bronagh

  My cheeks were burning as I floated down the hall to my office, barely aware of where I was and what I was doing.

  I couldn’t believe what had just happened.

  I’d been on autopilot during class. I read the necessary information to the students, but in my mind I’d been replaying the last time Brendan and I’d had sex.

  It started when he walked into class looking scruffy and delicious. I’d been doing my best to ignore him, but Brady’s words had come back to me and had me watching Brendan more closely. His hair was pulled back and it looked like he hadn’t shaved in a week. His mouth was a tight line, and his eyes had looked sad. I didn’t like the fact that I was the reason he was hurting.

  He looked good though … really good.

  I’d begun to imagine how that scruff would feel between my thighs, and was so immersed in my daydreams that I was shocked to realize the day had come to a close. I was rushing off to my office when he’d grabbed me and pulled me into that closet. Already so turned on, I’d hardly comprehended his words, instead focusing on his lips. On that mouth, and what I wanted it to do with me.

  What happened after that was one hundred percent my fault, and I’d been right, his short beard felt amazing.

  After I came out of my sexual haze, I’d been mortified that I’d used him that way. Especially after I’d been the one to end things. Talk about mixed messages!

  I was so consumed with guilt and mentally berating myself that when I walked into my office, it took a moment for me to recognize the man standing before my desk.

  “Chéri,” he said in his familiar soft accent. He looked very much the same …
average height and build, with a face so striking it often caused women to gasp. There was a little more gray above his ears, but of course, that only made him look more distinguished.

  “Maxime, what are you doing here?” I asked dumbly, feeling as if I’d walked into an alternate universe, one where my ex-husband was standing in my office, rather in his kitchen in France where he belonged.

  He tsked as he took a couple steps toward me.

  “Is that any way to greet your husband?”

  I grimaced at that, awareness finally dawning.

  “Ex-husband,” I corrected, dodging to the left before he could pull me into his embrace.

  Maxime waved his hand, as if the divorce was a formality that he didn’t abide by.

  “No matter the paperwork, Mon Cher, you will always be my wife.”

  Flashbacks started to hit me, and I was pulled back to the many times he’d said those very words. Maxime lived by his own rules, in his own universe, where he was king and got anything and everything he wanted.

  “No, Maxime, that’s what divorce is … the end of our marriage. I thought we went over all of this before I left France. And, don’t call me that.”

  I suddenly felt the beginnings of a headache.

  “I know what divorce is, Bronagh, but I’ll never believe that we are over.”

  “Why are you here?” I asked again, rubbing my temples as I tried to mentally go back to my happy place. In the closet, with Brendan.

  “I’m sure you have heard about the job I’ve offered,” he said, his words tinted with his French accent. I used to love that sound, but now, it just reminded me of a time when I was hopelessly foolish. “I decided to come down and congratulate the winner myself. The department knew, maybe they wanted it to be a surprise.”

  Yay, I thought sarcastically, then felt ugly for being bitchy. Having Maxime offer the job at all was a privilege for the school, but having him come in person was something they would see as an honor. I just didn’t understand why I hadn’t heard of his impending visit.

  Maybe I’d been too caught up in my own misery to pay attention to what was happening at school, I thought, chastising myself for not paying attention. I could of saved myself this uncomfortable moment.