One of the Guys

by Shiloh Walker

  She balled up her left hand. “You know, it’s going to be damn hard to work with two busted hands, but I’m willing to risk it.”

  He bent down and caught her fist in his own. His hand all but swallowed hers. “Go ahead. Feel free. You’re safe, you know. I don’t hit women back—or drug them.”

  “Brian…” She looked down at their hands and then back up at him. “What do you want me to say? I didn’t want Dean over here. I didn’t want him to kiss me. I didn’t let him kiss me and I don’t want him back.”

  “Right now, what I want you to do is to get out of my way so I can go kill him. And then…hell, you do whatever the hell you want.”

  “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

  Brian cocked a brow. “Killing him? No. I’m not going to let that go.”

  She waved a hand dismissively. “I’m not talking about that.” She gestured between them and said, “I’m talking about us.”

  Us. Now that she’d ripped his heart out, she was willing to talk about us. She hadn’t once tried to do it before, he thought bitterly. You haven’t really either, a small voice inside his head whispered. But he ignored it. Women always wanted to talk about relationships, didn’t they? Since Jaynie didn’t seem too interested in talking about it, he hadn’t really figured she had much to say.

  “There really is no us, is there, Jaynie?”

  Her mouth fell open and even through his own rage and pain, he could see her pain reflected in her eyes. “So that’s it?” she asked, her voice hoarse. “Just like that?”

  Not just like that. He was going to hurt over her every day for the rest of his life. But—but what? That sane little voice inside him hammered at him. But what? She’s the one. And you’re walking away. You don’t even know why. She just said she wasn’t kissing him. She doesn’t love him.

  But there was another part of him arguing. But she doesn’t love me either.

  Torn, he turned away from her and slumped against the wall. “You don’t know what this is doing to me,” he muttered.

  “The hell I don’t. I didn’t see Dean trying to hug some girl—I found them together naked. You only saw Dean with his arms around me, for what…all of five seconds? Don’t tell me I don’t know what this is doing to you. I’ve already been through it.”

  “That being the case, maybe you could try to see where I’m coming from,” he said testily.

  “I am!” she shouted, her temper erupting. “Damn it, your head is like a rock.”

  Brian scowled. “Yours isn’t any better, sugar. You spent ten fucking years with him! What in the hell was I supposed to think? Shit, screw what. How was I supposed to think? It felt like I’d just been sucker punched.”

  She cocked her head. A slow smile curved her lips and she said, “Believe it or not, I understand that. Very much.” She sighed and started to say something but instead, she grabbed the whiskey bottle. She didn’t mess with a glass, just lifted it to her lips and drank. One deep drink that led to a coughing fit. When it passed, she took a second drink and then put the bottle down. “I’m going to tell you what I told Dean earlier. I’m done with him. I don’t care if I never see him again. I don’t really care about him one way or the other. When he showed up, I figured I might as well just get that point across. He apparently thought I invited him inside the apartment with something else in mind.”

  Then she gave him a dejected look. “Even if you weren’t thinking too clearly about Dean showing up, do you really think I’d get involved with a married man?”

  “No.” Now that much he could answer honestly and without even thinking about it. He had to touch her. The ugly knot in his chest had receded just a little and he thought he might be able to actually breathe again, though he wasn’t completely certain. Her hand gave him an easy excuse to touch her too. He reached out and took her battered hand, examining it. He deftly probed her knuckles, watching her face and pretending a professional interest. “That didn’t make much sense to me, but honestly, I wasn’t thinking about him and Kit. I was too busy thinking about the fact that you had spent the past ten years of your life with him. You got history.”

  She hissed as he probed her swollen hand. “Would you stop it?” she demanded.

  “You need an X-ray.”

  Jaynie shot him a baleful glance. “Gee, really?”

  Instead of responding, he led her back to the kitchen and left her at the table while he got the first-aid kit from the pantry. Inside were a few emergency ice packs. He found the biggest one and closed his fist around it, tightening his fingers until he felt the little pop. Almost immediately, it started to chill and then he turned and took her hand, laying the fresh ice pack along the top of it.

  “So what happened?” he asked cautiously. Fifteen minutes ago that would have been the last thing he wanted to hear.

  “What, you’re willing to listen to me now?”

  He gave her a baleful look.

  She shrugged jerkily. “I don’t know if he just wanted a trip down memory lane or what. I don’t really care. He tried to kiss me and I punched him. Then I heard you outside with Kate and I knew you’d seen something. I went after you and Dean followed me. He ran off at the mouth again and I ended up hitting him in the mouth that time.” She wiggled her fingers a little. “Ended up splitting my knuckles on his teeth.”

  “And the roofie?” Brian wouldn’t have just split his knuckles on the bastard’s teeth. He would have knocked them clear down Dean’s throat.

  Her lids drooped, shielding her eyes from him, but still, he caught a glimpse of the wounded, betrayed look in them. “Figured it would loosen me up. He’s had the ménage fetish for a while now. I wasn’t interested and he wasn’t interested in me saying no.”

  Brian gritted his teeth. Oh, he was going to kill Dean. “And he just now mentioned this?”

  She sneered at him. “Gee, do you think I would have stayed with him if I had known before this?” Gently, she tugged away from him and circled around the kitchen to avoid brushing past him.

  “I didn’t mean for anything to happen between us, Brian. When I came to you that night, I was just looking for some comfort. Some reassurance. I never meant for anything like this to happen.” She stood with her back to him, her shoulders slumped and her head low.

  Brian closed the distance between them, brought his hands up to rest on her shoulders. “Me, neither,” he murmured. “Does that mean you’re sorry we ended up here?”

  She slanted him a look over her shoulder. “I don’t know yet. I—” she blew out a breath. “I have feelings for you that I hadn’t ever expected to have. But I just went through the wringer with Dean. I’m not ready for an emotional roller coaster.”

  “Is that what we are?”

  “What else would you call this?” she asked, her voice self-deprecating. “You saw one thing and overreacted. Does that mean you’re going to be the kind who gets jealous if I so much as speak to another guy?”

  Brian tightened his hands on her shoulders. “Come on, Jaynie. Give me a break.” He blew out a breath and wished he could just undo the last four hours. Wipe them out of both their memories. “It isn’t like you were talking to some guy in the store or at work. Dean is the guy you spent ten years with—the guy you found cheating on you—and then you ended up in my bed. I know about rebound guys. I told myself that wasn’t what was going on but…”

  She turned around to study him thoughtfully. “Then you show up and find him there.”

  “So have I totally messed this up?” he asked softly.

  A slow smile tugged at her lips. “I don’t know.”

  He blew out a breath. “Okay…let me ask this. If I try to kiss you now, are you going to hit me with that other hand?”

  She tipped her head back and the smile seemed to spread just a little. “I dunno. It’s possible.”

  He kissed her, quick and light. Then he slid his arms around her, eased her body up against him, careful of her battered hand. “I’m sorry.”

>   She snuggled against him. “So are you still planning on asking me to marry you?”

  And just like that, Brian felt his world fall back into place. With a grin, he asked, “Yeah. You still willing to trust me and see where this leads us?”

  Against his chest, he could feel her smile. “I’m standing here, aren’t I?”

  “Yeah.” The knot in his chest melted and disappeared altogether and he cupped the back of her head in his hand, cradling her close. Her body, soft and warm, molded against his and Brian felt that familiar hot need stirring inside him. In a few minutes, he was going to have to figure out how to make love to her without hurting her hand, but for now, he was content just to hold her. “Yeah, you’re here, all right. Thank God.”

  LOOK FOR SHILOH’S LATEST…

  Headed For Trouble

  He was more than six feet of sexy, bearded Scottish trouble.

  Not the trouble she was looking for…

  yet he proved to be everything she needed.

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  Read on for an excerpt from Headed For Trouble

  Ian Campbell had left Scotland for a couple of small reasons, and one rather big one. The small reasons were varied—he liked to try new things, he’d always wanted to run his own pub, and he’d never been one to turn down a chance at an adventure. Living in America for a time could definitely be that.

  The rather big reason was simple.

  Money.

  He’d been offered a fat sum to come across the pond and run this pub, and if all went well, then he could even buy it. It had been a hard choice to make, he wouldn’t lie.

  More than once—once a week even—he wondered if he’d done the right thing, and considered going home. He could. He’d have to start over, but he wasn’t afraid of hard work and he wasn’t afraid to start over, either. He’d had to do that more than once in his life, that was certain.

  But then he’d crawl out of bed, get himself a cup of coffee—or better yet, three. Ian Campbell wasn’t a pleasant man without his first cup of coffee in the morning. Once he was awake, he’d go to his balcony and stare out over the river.

  This place was thousands of miles from Braemar, the small village in Scotland where he’d lived for the first thirteen years of his life and just as different from the house where he’d lived after his mother died and he moved to Aviemore to live with his grandparents. He’d lived there from the time he was thirteen until he was eighteen, in a house where raised voices and flying fists had him desperate to leave, and even more desperate never to return.

  Nobody here looked at him and whispered as he walked past.

  True, it had been a long time since people had done that back home.

  But he didn’t see the looks in their eyes, and if he lifted a pint at the end of the day, he didn’t have to wonder what they might think.

  A clean slate, that was what he had here, and he couldn’t help but appreciate it.

  Perhaps he didn’t like the heat that hit you like a sweaty fist for too much of the year, but any circumstance would have its drawbacks now, wouldn’t it?

  And … there were the benefits.

  He found himself studying one now and felt a stir of interest he hadn’t felt in more time than he cared to think about.

  She stood in the doorway, oddly apart from everybody else even as she studied them, eyes moving to linger on a group here, then there. After a couple of moments she moved away, and he found himself tracking her progress.

  Don’t be here to meet somebody, he thought, and immediately, he wanted to kick himself. What did it matter if she was?

  He told himself it didn’t and glanced up as Gary Harnett settled down and ordered his usual. Ian started to build the Guinness as they chatted, but the entire time he watched her from the corner of his eye.

  She moved like a dancer, with effortless grace and easy elegance. He could imagine those legs, long and slim, wrapped around his waist, could picture that torso, just as long and slim, bent back as he leaned over to press his mouth to pale, soft skin.

  Gary said, “They say it’s going to break a hundred again tomorrow.”

  “Imagine it will,” Ian murmured, the easy chatter second nature, while in his mind, he continued to mentally undress the redhead.

  She slid onto a vacant stool tucked up against the wall just as he finished Gary’s Guinness, and Ian took a moment to appreciate the fact that he had a heavy, solid bar between the two of them, because, thanks to his wandering mind, his bloody cock was hard as iron and pulsing.

  She looked at him then, her mouth unsmiling, but wide and soft and lush.

  Fuck me.

  He rested his hands on the bar and smiled. You’ve a job to do, so do it.

  He opened his mouth.

  You’re the sexiest fucking thing I’ve seen in ages—maybe forever. He could feel those words hovering on the tip of his tongue.

  Biting them back, he fell back on the job he’d been doing for ages.

  “Well, ’allo. What can I get you?”

  A faint smile flirted around her lips, and a hot ball of lust twisted inside, settling down low in his balls. Mad. He’d gone mad—that’s all there was to it.

  She nodded toward the Guinness he’d just finished and said, “I’ll have one of those.”

  He nodded. Self-preservation told him to move his arse and get to work.

  He told self-preservation to get fucked as he got to work on her Guinness. As he did, four more orders came in, and he filled three of them before her Guinness was ready. By the time he had another minute to breathe, she had folded her hands around her glass and was studying everything around her, almost mesmerized.

  “Visiting?”

  She blinked, a startled look in her eyes. Her gaze slid away. “Depends on your point of view.” Then she flashed him a wide smile.

  It was disarming, that smile, bright and wicked, the kind of smile a temptress would give a saint to lure him into all manner of sins.

  Ian was many things—a saint had never been one of them. As she propped her elbows on the bar, he found himself easing closer. “I’m here for … personal things, but that’s for later,” she said, lifting her shoulder in a shrug. “Tonight …? Tonight I’m just trying to not think.”

  I can help you with that.

  The words popped into his brain and they almost escaped his lips.

  He managed to keep them trapped inside, but one thing he couldn’t do was keep his eyes off that mouth.

  She noticed, too. He could tell by the hitch in her breathing, the way her pulse slammed against the fragile wall of her throat. Curious, he reached out and pressed a finger against it.

  He could very well be doing the stupidest thing he’d ever done.

  Her lids drooped and her head slumped, angling slightly to the side. He skimmed his finger down lower, tracing the elegant line of her collarbone. “I’ve had days like that,” he said softly. “Days where the last place I want to be is inside my own head.”

  He lowered his hand.

  She lifted her head and met his gaze dead-on.

  He started to turn away.

  “How late do you work?”

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  ABOUT

  Shiloh Walker has been writing since she was a kid. She fell in love with vampires with the book Bunnicula and has worked her way up to the more…ah…serious works of fiction. Once upon a time she worked as a nurse, but now she writes full time and lives with her family in the Midwest. She writes romantic suspense and contemporary romance, and urban fantasy under her penname, J.C. Daniels. You can find her at Twitter or Facebook. Read more about her work at her website. Sign up for her newsletter and have a chance to win a monthly giveaway.