by Kendall Ryan
“Haven’t you learned by now not to doubt me?”
“Let’s give that calamari a try before you get too full of yourself.”
“Oh, come on, this view isn’t enough for you? I’ll take any food that’s half-edible as long as I can keep looking at all this.”
“Eh, it’s okay,” she says with a playful shrug, scrunching her nose.
“Well, I for one definitely like what I’m seeing.” I keep my eyes trained on her face, and another blush spreads over her cheeks.
She smiles, taking my hand and leaning in to kiss me over the table. “Fine, I’ll give you a few points for that one, cheeseball.”
It’s fast. I know that. But we’ve spent every day working together, and every night learning each other’s bodies. I know her dreams, her favorite movies, the foods she likes, the goals she has for her future, and she knows mine.
The waiter arrives with a bottle of champagne, pouring us each a glass while explaining the specials for the evening. We order, and I raise my glass for a toast, my heart threatening to pound right out of my chest.
You can do this, Case. Just tell her how you feel, plain and simple. When you know, you know—and you definitely know.
I’ve just opened my mouth to begin my speech when I catch sight of movement from the corner of my eye. Sienna notices it too, and she turns to see what’s going on, her face quickly shifting from calm and content to sheer horror.
I follow her gaze across the room to find a tall, well-dressed figure marching toward us, his hands balled into tight fists, a beautiful, confused-looking woman trailing behind him. My stomach drops, and my heart practically stops dead in my chest.
It’s Ryder. And he looks fucking pissed.
Chapter Twenty
Case
Pain. Searing, blinding pain. The kind of pain that knocks all the sense out of you, that leaves you stumbling like an idiot, wondering what the fuck just happened.
One minute I’m drinking champagne and looking into Sienna’s eyes, and the next, I’m in the parking lot, Ryder’s fist making swift and forceful contact with my face.
The first blow lands on my cheek, right over the bone, the shock of the impact shooting through my skull. I’ve barely registered what’s happening when the second blow hits, this time landing higher, right where my nose and eye socket meet, making my eyes water as blood begins to drip from my nose.
Holy shit.
“I fucking trusted you, asshole!” Ryder yells, shaking out the hand he just used to hit me.
The woman he came here with, the one I recognize as a new client, watches in horror from a distance. Her cell phone is pressed to her ear as she makes a call, and then she quickly goes back inside the restaurant. She pushes past Sienna, who appears just a few feet away from us. Clearly, she wasn’t fast enough in following us out of the restaurant. All the color drains from her face as she lays eyes on me and realizes what’s going on.
Her scream hits my ears like a punch in the gut, and I can make out her silhouette reaching for her brother. He shrugs her off, charging at me again. This time I see it coming and sidestep out of the way, taking the opportunity to try to talk some sense into him.
“Ryder, let’s talk about—” I pinch the bridge of my nose to try to stop the bleeding.
He comes at me again, and since I refuse to hit him, he tackles me to the ground, the sound of his voice roaring in my ears.
“Are you fucking my sister?”
I land hard on my side on the pavement, and he pushes me onto my back, pulling back to hit my face again. He seems to move almost in slow motion as the world slows around me, and I take everything in one piece at a time.
He knows about us. And I deserve every fucking hit.
“You goddamned piece of shit!”
By the third punch, my face goes numb. I’m not fighting back, because why would I? Through blurry eyes, I see Sienna behind her brother, her face crumpled and terrified and her hand clapped over her mouth, muffled sobs squeaking out between her fingers.
It kills me to see her like this, almost as much as it kills me to see Ryder this unbelievably pissed off. And he’s right. I am a piece of shit, not just for lying to him but for doing this to his sister, for jeopardizing their relationship in such a serious way.
All for what? A little bit of pleasure? But it was more than that . . . I care for her. I love her.
“Ryder, stop it, you’re hurting him!” Sienna yells, looking helplessly around her.
A few restaurant-goers seem to have been watching us from the door, but when Sienna looks at them, they hurry inside, clearly not interested in getting involved.
Rolling out of the way, I grab hold of Ryder’s arm. I’m not going to fight back, or hit him, but I am going to defend myself. As much as I deserve what’s coming to me, I don’t want to make Sienna keep watching this. Wrestling him to the ground, I pin him on his back, his eyes wild with rage as he struggles beneath me.
“Look, I know you’re pissed, but it’s not what you think,” I say, blood dripping from my nose onto his shirt.
He spits in my face, and I’m so shocked by it that, he easily overtakes me, shoving me off him until we’re both back on our feet, facing off once again. Adrenaline pumps hot and fast through my veins, and my only focus is ending this before one of us does something we’ll really regret.
“Ryder, please.” Sienna sobs, stumbling over to him with her arms outstretched.
He turns to her, his chest heaving, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you let him do this to you,” he says, his voice dripping with disgust.
Sienna whimpers, wrapping her arms around herself and backing away, and I step between them.
“Come on, man, don’t take this out on her.”
“Don’t you fucking tell me what to do, you lying, spineless son of a bitch.” He shoves me with both hands, and I react without thinking, my fist colliding with his jaw.
Sienna yelps and rushes to his side, and Ryder laughs while cradling his jaw.
“There he is. There’s the real Case. Not a shred of loyalty or decency in him.”
Sienna looks at me over her shoulder, terror and disappointment registering on her face.
Fuck.
Seeing her look at me like that hurts more than anything her brother could ever do to me. With one look, she shatters the fragile world we created together, the one where we connected and trusted each other—the one I was ready to take to the next level moments before Ryder showed up.
“I’m . . . I’m so sorry,” I mutter, backing away, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. A mix of blood and sweat smears on my skin, and suddenly, I realize I have to get out of there.
I can’t do this anymore, can’t handle seeing Ryder so pissed and Sienna so scared. I head for my car and peel out of the parking lot, the full weight of the situation finally sinking in. My mind doesn’t stop racing the whole drive home, and all the shame and guilt I’ve been burying for the past month hits me at the same time. I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking.
Of course Ryder hates me. Of course Sienna could barely look at me. I lied to my best friend about sleeping with his sister, and in the process, I ruined my chances with her, right when I finally realized how much she means to me.
Rolling to a stop at a red light, I reach for my phone, intending to call Sienna and apologize, but I stop short when I realize what she must think.
I hit her brother, for no reason other than he was hitting me—and he had a damn good reason to do so. What I did was unforgivable, to both of them, and I can’t even imagine how she must feel about me right now.
When I get home, I pull a bag of frozen peas from the freezer and carefully place it on my already swollen face. Holding the peas in place with one hand, I use the other to open the bottle of whiskey I’ve been saving for a rainy day, and pour myself a glass.
When I catch a glimpse of myself in the hallway mirror on my way to the couch, I barely recognize the man staring ba
ck at me. My lip is swollen, my cheek is bright red, and a grimace is painted on my face. I’ve never looked more pathetic—and I’ve never felt more pathetic either.
Sinking onto the couch, I take a good, long swig of whiskey, relishing the burn on the back of my throat.
In that moment, I know that I deserve every bit of pain I’m feeling, both physical and emotional. I screwed up in a major way, and I don’t know how I’ll make it right again.
Chapter Twenty-One
Sienna
“I just want to talk, Sienna. Please.”
This is the third time in the last hour that Ryder has knocked on my bedroom door in an attempt to talk things out. As if he could somehow explain away the fact that he just pummeled my heart into the concrete.
I sniffle and wipe my nose when I hear Ryder’s defeated sigh outside my door, followed by the sound of his footsteps leading away from my room and the click of his own door shutting.
Good. Stay the hell away from me and go think about what you did.
When was the last time my brother and I fought like this? It was probably when we were teenagers and too caught up in our own hormones to think about each other’s feelings. But I can’t talk to him right now. I have nothing to say to him.
I reach for my phone, hopeful that Case has replied to my texts, but I’m met with a blank screen. He’s read all three of my messages begging him to talk to me, to tell me he’s okay, but he hasn’t so much as reassured me that he made it home. I watch those three torturous bubbles pop up on the screen, then disappear, like he can’t find the right words.
Eventually, the three little dots stop too. He doesn’t want to talk, and that hurts almost more than anything else.
Tears build behind my eyes again. I should have known he’d run once things got messy. Granted, bruised knuckles and a bloody nose are far messier than I could have ever expected. But is this really how it ends between us? With a couple of punches thrown in a restaurant parking lot? Is what we have so unremarkable that it isn’t worth fighting for?
Yes, Ryder found out and he’s pissed—rightly so—but we’re both adults.
I pitch my phone across the room and bury my face in my pillow.
How could I have been so stupid to think that Case would want to be with me anyway? Even before all this Ryder business, Case was a freaking escort. He’s not going to commit to being with just one woman.
And once he gets his dick back on track, what would I do? Just deal with the fact that I have to share him with any woman in town with a sex drive and a checkbook? Not likely.
Still, I hate this feeling of being shut out more than anything.
• • •
The rest of my night is divided between sleeping and crying, and when sunlight bleeds through the window, I’ve already been awake for too long.
The few hours of sleep I managed to get were completely ruined by nightmares. Every time I shut my eyes, all I could see was Ryder shoving Case to the asphalt, and Case, even though taller and more muscular, just taking it—like he knew he deserved it or something.
I’m not sure what’s worse—the nightmares themselves, or waking up to remember that my life and my bad dreams are one and the same. At least in my nightmares, I don’t have a throbbing headache from crying so hard.
I swing my legs out of bed and plant my feet on the floor. No point in trying to fall back asleep.
Shuffling toward the bathroom to wash my face, I immediately regret looking at myself in the mirror. My eyes are swollen and red from crying, and my skin is dull and pale. I look and feel like I’m the one who got kicked into the pavement last night, not Case. And in some ways, I wish I were. At least then I’d have a better reason for feeling this pathetic.
But I know what I have to do.
Locating my phone on the other side of the room where I tossed it last night, I fire off yet another text to Case.
Meet me at the café by your place at 9? We need to talk.
He replies within a minute, confirming our plans.
Finally, a response from him. Why couldn’t he have done that last night?
I rub my eyes, hoping the puffiness goes down before I have to be seen in public. There’s no use putting on makeup when I’m liable to cry it right off. A quick shower and a few deep breaths later, I’m out the door early enough to avoid any potential run-ins with Ryder.
When I arrive at the coffee shop, Case is already waiting for me, seated at a table on the patio with a coffee in hand. He’s got on a slouchy gray T-shirt and black jeans paired with a pair of aviator sunglasses that I’ve never seen him wear before. He looks strikingly handsome, and a pain settles inside my chest.
As I walk closer, I see that he already ordered coffee for me as well. One cream and two sugar packets are placed beside the cup on the table. Just the way I like it. I try to ignore the twinge in my heart at the gesture.
“Hey,” I say timidly, pulling out the chair opposite him and taking a seat. “Thanks for the coffee.”
“How do you know it’s for you?” he teases.
Good. I’m glad Ryder didn’t knock the sense of humor out of him.
“Lucky guess.” I cup the mug in my hands and take a sip, letting the caffeine do its work on soothing this headache. “How are you?”
Case scoffs. “About as good as you’d imagine,” he says, adjusting his sunglasses.
I catch sight of a splotch of dark bluish-purple on his cheekbone, barely hidden behind the lens. It’s both better and worse than I’d been imagining all night. “Is that . . . a black eye?” I lean closer to try to get a better look, but Case turns his head the other way.
“It’s fine. I’m fine,” he mutters.
I wish I could get a good read on him, but his sunglasses are reflective, completely hiding those hypnotic blue eyes. Instead, I’m forced to stare into my own worry reflected back at me.
“What about you? Are you all right?” His deep voice washes over me, laced with concern.
I shrug, chewing nervously on my lower lip. “I’m okay, I guess. I’m glad you were able to meet up. It’s good to see that you’re alive, at least.”
Case suppresses a snicker. It’s softer than his normal laugh. Sadder, almost. “Yes, Sienna. I’m very alive.” He adjusts his sunglasses once more as a woman walking into the café eyeballs him worriedly. “She’s a client,” he explains under his breath, taking a sip of his coffee.
Did she notice the black eye? Even worse, does she think I have something to do with it?
“Case, we need to talk,” I blurt, and despite his sunglasses, I can see his brow crinkle.
“About the client? She’s no one, Sienna. I promise.”
A knot pulls tight in the back of my throat. “No. About last night.”
“Weren’t we just talking about last night?”
He’s not going to make this easy on me, is he?
“I mean actually talk about it, Case. Actually talk about us.”
I suck in a long, deep breath before launching into it. Here goes nothing. Or everything.
“I think we should cut things off. You’ll have book signings coming up. Interviews with magazines and bloggers. You can’t be rolling in looking like you just got knocked down in the ring. This book . . .” I trail off, second-guessing my words, then finish my thought in a hushed tone. “It’s what you should be focused on right now.”
Case flinches at my remark, but he doesn’t try to argue.
“And since you’re done with the book, and well, because of everything else, I guess that means you won’t need my help anymore, and I can begin working at the dance studio full time.”
His shoulders stiffen, and he takes half a second to process before responding. “Fine.”
I recoil. “Just . . . fine?” My heart feels like it’s been split in two—but fine?
“I don’t know what else you want me to say.”
The familiar build of oncoming tears stings my eyes as Case casually takes another sip of his coffe
e. He sets the paper cup down and drags his thumb across his lower lip.
God, I want to lean across the table and kiss those lips. One last sweet, tender, breathtaking kiss. But I know my heart couldn’t handle it. And with a client watching from inside the café, neither could his career.
“See you around, Sienna.”
Gripping his coffee cup in one hand, Case doesn’t so much as glance back as he disappears down the sidewalk and toward his car, parked on the street.
I imagine him back at his office, working at that desk where he fucked me just weeks ago. He’ll be coordinating clients and arranging for meetings with his editor to help build hype for the book. Life will go back to normal for him without me posing a threat to his livelihood. Just as quickly as he came into my life, he’ll disappear out of it.
Despite the sugar stirred into my coffee, there’s suddenly a bitter taste in my mouth and a hollowness in my chest.
• • •
My month working at the escort agency flew by in an instant, but the two weeks since Case and I parted ways feels like a lifetime. Each day erodes away into another with barely any sleep in between.
Cutting things off was the right thing to do, wasn’t it? So, why does every day feel like a new kind of torture?
From my morning coffee to my evenings of recital prep at the dance studio, everything reminds me of Case. Even now, as I lock up the studio for the night and step out into the parking lot, the rain clouds gathering overhead bring me back to the night of that horrible storm, when the roads were too bad and I had to spend the night at Case’s house. I remember the crashing of thunder outside as we shared our first kiss.
What I wouldn’t do to go back to that.
As I make the familiar drive home, squinting through the rain, I review a dozen different alternate scenarios in my head.
There’s one where Case turns down my offer and we never sleep together. Another where we never even kiss at all. The summer could have gone as planned—if I would have kept things strictly professional at work, I could have wandered into any bar at night and picked up a guy who would have suited me just fine for the fling I had in mind. It would have been so much easier, so much less messy.
