Before Adam could say anything, she’d turned on her designer heels and stormed out of the restaurant.
I instantly felt terrible. Adam and I hadn’t included her in our conversation at all. It was such a shitty thing to do.
Adam must have recognized my guilty expression because he shook his head at me. “Don’t feel bad, sweetheart. She started complaining the moment I picked her up. If I was rude, it was only in retaliation.”
I gave him a sympathetic smile. “Looks like we saved each other from crappy dates.”
He grinned. “Looks like.” His eyes dropped to the menu. “Now, what are you having for dessert?”
“We don’t need to,” I told him quietly. “We could just pay up and I’ll go home and let you get on with your night.”
His eyes rose to meet mine and he gave me an “are you daft?” look. “Els, shut up and pick a dessert.”
I tried to hide my smile and lowered my eyes to the menu.
***
We stepped out into the warm summer night, and Adam took my arm and tucked it in his. “Where to next?”
I blinked in surprise. We’d finished our meal and I’d just assumed I’d be going home. “Um, where do you fancy?”
“The Voodoo Rooms is only a five-minute walk away. I know the bartenders, so we’ll get a table.”
I nodded, trying to stop my heart from taking off. Adam was taking me out for a drink. He’d never taken me out for a drink just the two of us before. Sometimes he, Braden, and I would meet up for a drink or two, but it was never just Adam and I.
As I walked down the street with him, arm in arm, I allowed myself the fantasy that we were a couple. That’s what other people would see when they passed us. My chest burned with utter longing.
Unrequited love wasn’t nearly as romantic as the books made it seem.
“Who don’t you know in this city?” I teased in an attempt to appear normal around him.
Adam grinned. “There are a few people I’ve yet to meet.”
I chuckled at that. Adam and Braden called Edinburgh “their city,” and they almost meant that literally. They had acquaintances everywhere, and whenever I was out with them, we spent half our time greeting people they knew. Some might say that Adam would never have had that kind of relationship with the city if he hadn’t grown up as Braden’s best friend.
Unlike us, Adam didn’t come from a well-off family. His mum and dad were ordinary folks who never really gave the impression that they’d wanted to be parents. Adam had been an accident. Although they’d never been neglectful or cruel, his parents had been distant, and he’d spent most of his childhood hanging out at Braden’s and bemoaning the summers when Braden was off in Europe with his mother.
As soon as Adam turned eighteen and moved into student housing that put him into a lot of debt, his parents had gotten on a plane and moved to Australia. He heard from them about once a month. Incidentally, Braden had paid off Adam’s student debt as a graduation present, something he proudly wouldn’t accept—until Braden had gotten him drunk and recorded his slurred acceptance on his iPhone. I’d heard the recording. He’d said, “Love you, mate, You’re beautiful” so many times to Braden, I’d almost peed my pants with laughter.
Adam’s difference in background, however, didn’t mean anything. Even if he hadn’t had Braden there opening all these doors, I believed that with his charm and charisma, he’d still be a guy that a lot of people knew, liked, wanted to be, or wanted to sleep with.
When we got to The Voodoo Rooms, dinner service was just finishing up and the place was crowded.
“Adam!” a bartender called out as soon as we walked. “I’ll get you a table.”
We followed him as he claimed a table and wiped it down with a wet dishrag. The guy eyed me as I slid into the booth and gave Adam a smile of approval that made me blush to my roots.
“What can I get you?”
“I’ll have a Macallan and ginger ale. Sweetheart, what do you want?”
“I’ll have a mojito, please.”
Adam settled into the booth with me, his arm sliding along the back of the seat behind my head. For some reason I felt incredibly awkward and I struggled to find something to say.
“Sorry your date was rubbish.”
Adam shrugged. “I’ll just celebrate with you.”
“Celebrate?”
He gave me a small grin, looking boyishly pleased about something. That look hit me between my legs. I needed help. “I’m now a registered architect.”
My lips parted and I impulsively threw my arms around him. “Congratulations!”
He chuckled against my ear and I shivered, loving the press of those strong, creative hands against my back. “Thanks, sweetheart.”
“Does Braden know?” I asked, pulling away.
“Yeah. He congratulated me by giving me a permanent contract.”
I laughed. That was so Braden.
Adam had gotten his practical experience to complete his qualification by working alongside Braden’s architect. This last year, however, he’d been doing the work himself and having now achieved all the qualifications and experience he required, he’d applied to the Architects Registration Board.
“I’m really happy for you.”
“I know. That’s why I’d much rather be here with you than with Megan.”
“Meagan,” I corrected.
“Whatever,” Adam muttered.
Our drinks came and I asked him about the project he and Braden were working on. Adam then asked me about my classes. I had chosen to study History of Art and Fine Art with grand hopes of becoming a gallery curator one day, but while at the university, I was falling in love with the idea of a career in academia.
Clark, who was a professor of classical history at the same school, was extremely proud and excited that I wanted to follow in his footsteps. When I told Braden I was thinking of doing a PhD in Art History he’d given me Adam’s “are you daft?” look, but then kissed me on the forehead and told me to do whatever made me happy.
The night seemed to speed away from us, and before I knew it I was on my third mojito and snuggled much deeper into Adam’s side, laughing as he regaled me with stories of his and Braden’s antics at work and elsewhere.
To the outside world, the two of them were extremely mature young men in their mid-twenties.
I knew better.
I wiped tears of laughter from my eyes and reached for another sip of my drink. “You two are idiots.”
“Shh, that’s a secret.”
I grinned back at him and the smile he gave me suddenly froze.
“What?” I breathed, my heart stopping.
He swallowed and shook his head. “I just sometimes wonder where the time goes.”
“I know. We’re all grown up now,” I teased.
His eyes searched my face, his expression enigmatic. “Yes, we are,” he murmured, and something about the way he said it made the air between us suddenly become electric. I could swear that I stopped breathing altogether. His eyes were dark and focused, and I felt the heat of his look slide sensually down the center of my body. Nervously, I licked my lips and his gaze dropped to my mouth.
My gaze dropped to his.
I don’t know which one of us moved. Whichever one of us it was, our faces were so close that our lips were almost brushing. I could feel his breath on mine and he obviously could feel mine on his. The smell of Macallan and Adam played chaos with my hormones. My chest began to rise and fall with excited nerves and hopeful anticipation.
I moved my head that little bit closer and our lips brushed. Infinitesimally. Still, that slightest touch sent a bolt of lust straight through me.
Adam made a sound in the back of his throat and I swore he was about to close the distance between us . . .
But I’d never know for sure. His phone rang in his jacket pocket, throwing a bucket of ice-cold water over the moment. I jerked back and watched his face cloud over as he realized what had almost happened.
Jaw clenched, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. It had already stopped ringing. He lifted his eyes to me and told me darkly, “Braden.”
I guessed he meant that Braden had been the one who’d called him, but I also imagined it had a double meaning. I knew I was right when he quickly paid for our drinks and put me in a taxi, abruptly ending our night together.
I was Ellie, Braden’s little sister. To Adam, I would always be Braden’s little sister, and that meant I was off limits.
When I lay in bed that night, I cursed Adam Sutherland to hell and back. If he hadn’t already ruined things for me before, he definitely had after tonight.
A brush against my lips.
One tiny touch and I felt that spark I’d been waiting for since I was fifteen. Whichever guy came next had a lot to live up to.
Chapter 5
“I was freaking out,” Adam admitted. He threw me a wicked smile. “I’ve never been so hard in my life from an almost kiss. I wanted to fuck you every time I saw you after that.”
I shoved him playfully and blushed. Adam was often deliberately crude because he knew it made me equal parts embarrassed and turned on. I’d always hated when people used the f-word to describe sex, thinking it emotionless and casual. But after Adam and I became a couple, I’d discovered that when you were in love with someone and you knew they loved you back, there was a wide spectrum of sex. At one end, there was the tender, sweet, slow sex that I would call “making love,” and at the other end of it there was the rough, wild, can’t-get-enough-of-you sex that was definitely the f-word. Adam was more than proficient in both kinds.
I thought about what he’d said and frowned. “You did a good job of hiding it.”
He sighed. “I don’t know about that.” He looked back at the diary and frowned. “What ever happened to that Christian guy, by the way?”
“I let him down gently when he called to reschedule our date.”
“I would say “poor guy,” but I had to endure five years of wanting you and not having you.”
“That was entirely your own fault.” I picked up the diary I wanted and opened it up to the specific entry I was looking for: It was a night I would not likely ever forget, “Nine months before Joss showed up . . . It’s a perfect example of it being entirely your own fault.”
Sunday, October 23rd
That’s it. I give up. I’m humiliated. Confused and humiliated. And hurt. God . . . Hurt doesn’t even begin to describe it . . .
I was supposed to be spending my Saturday evening with Jenna and a few girls from uni sipping cocktails and talking about anything else but our degrees. Instead, I was in a taxi heading to Adam’s duplex apartment in Fountainbridge. I could have walked there, but I felt a sense of urgency to get there and make sure he was okay.
And I really needed to thank him for having my back, as he always had.
The last week had not been a particularly good one. That was putting it mildly.
I’d been betrayed. Again. But this time it was worse than ever. For the last five months I’d been dating Rich Stirling. For the last five months I’d thought I was dating a nice guy who worked in Glasgow for a recruitment agency. Then I discovered that he was, in actuality, a corporate spy for a competitor of Braden’s in Edinburgh. This property developer was so desperate to outbid Braden on a piece of coveted land down by Commercial Quay that they’d enlisted Rich to get close to me, to get close to Braden, to unearth Braden’s bid, and have his company offer more money for the land.
I wasn’t in love with Rich, but I’d let the sleazeball into my life and into my bed—and I’d given him a piece of me. I don’t think I’d ever felt so completely stupid in my entire life. All of my friends and family kept telling me I was too nice, that I didn’t have good intuition when it came to people, that I let arseholes into my life. I was finally starting to believe they were right.
I knew I could close down, refuse to let people close; be smarter, more selective . . . but that wasn’t me, and that was somehow letting Rich win. So I refused to change and there was a tiny sense of victory in that.
It still stung like a mother, though, that I couldn’t do anything, couldn’t take some kind of retribution. So when Braden turned up at my flat—this gorgeous property on Dublin Street that he’d renovated and then gifted to me—to tell me he and Adam had bumped into Rich out on the town the night before, I’d held my breath, knowing exactly what was coming.
Sure enough, Braden had had to haul Adam off of Rich and take him home to calm him down and ice his knuckles. Apparently, Adam had let the whole world know how he felt about anyone betraying me and Braden. He didn’t like it. And when he didn’t like it, he’d acquaint your face with his dislike.
As soon as Braden left, I buzzed around my flat in a tizzy, wondering what I should do. Should I call Adam and thank him? Should I go to his place and thank him in person? Should I berate him for using violence to make a point? No, that last one definitely wouldn’t wash with him. He wasn’t a violent person. In fact, although he could be intimidating and had warned off a number of bullies when I was younger, this was the first time I knew of that he’d actually gotten physical with someone on my behalf. I’d half expected him to go after Rich. Adam had exploded and stormed out of my mum and Clark’s house when Braden relayed the news to them all. Braden had told them after he told me, but my throat was still tight with tears as I had to hear it a second time.
After Braden’s departure, I finally made the decision to cancel my night out with the girls. I took a long shower, blow-dried my hair straight, and threw on a long skirt with a low waistband, my Uggs, and a wooly turtleneck with a cropped hem. I wanted to be casual, but whenever I knew I’d be seeing Adam, I liked to remind him in some way that I was a woman with a woman’s figure–not that it seemed to make any real impact. Despite evidence that he checked me out sometimes, Adam had been carefully platonic in our interactions since our lips brushed at The Voodoo Rooms three years earlier. I had dated three guys in an effort to get over him. It never worked. The guys just paled in comparison to him and the relationships fizzled out.
With a mind to the cold weather, I’d thrown on a short wool jacket over my top, along with a scarf, and I’d flagged down a taxi outside my flat. It was only as the cab was pulling up to Adam’s place that I thought maybe I should have called to warn him I was coming over. It was a Saturday night.
He might have company.
My stomach lurched unpleasantly at the thought. The last time I’d visited Adam unannounced had been four months prior, and I’d walked in on him with a girl called Vicky. Not only was I horrified once more to play witness to one of his sexual interludes, but I’d been shocked to realize that he and my brother shared women. Not at the same time, thank God. I knew Braden had gone out with Vicky too. In an effort to soothe my severely bruised romantic notions, Adam had explained ex post facto that Braden and Vicky had been really casual and when Vicky had said she fancied Adam, Braden had mentioned it to Adam and—la, la, la, la, la, la, la! I didn’t hear the rest of the explanation because I had indeed stuck my fingers childishly in my ears and tuned him out completely.
Sex was not casual to me. Not only was I annoyed that my brother, who had once been a secret romantic, had turned into serial monogamist who showed no signs of settling down, I was even more annoyed at Adam for encouraging it. I couldn’t even describe how angry I was at Vicky.
After asking the cab driver to wait a second, I pulled out my phone and called up to Adam.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted me, his rich voice filled with concern. He was clearly still worried about how I was coping with Rich’s treachery.
“Hullo,” I replied quietly, letting the warmth of hearing his voice fill my chest. “I’m downstairs. Are you okay for me to come up?”
“Of course. I’ll buzz you in.”
I hung up, paid the taxi driver, and hopped out, my heart racing as I hurried to the entrance. Adam let me in.
My palms
began to sweat as the lift took me up to his floor. It was strange but my reaction to being alone with Adam had only gotten worse over the last few years. Every time was like a first date, and yet I knew him better than I knew practically anyone.
When the doors opened, my eyes met Adam’s. He was standing in his doorway across the hall, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb. He wore a plain white T-shirt and a pair of old jeans; his feet were bare, his hair mussed, and he needed a shave.
He was so bloody hot it was a wonder I didn’t start hyperventilating on the spot.
I crossed the hallway to him and held out the bottle of wine I’d brought. He took it with a quizzical smile and I sighed. “It was either a bottle of wine or a slap on the wrist.” I eyed his bruised knuckles pointedly.
Adam’s lips twitched. “Wine will do.”
I followed him into the duplex, my eyes drinking in the well-designed flat. A large staircase greeted you at the front entrance, leading up to two spacious bedrooms, a bathroom, and an office. Beyond the staircase on the ground floor was just wide open space—a massive sitting area with floor-to-ceiling glass windows covering one wall, and at the very end of the room you’d find a stylish kitchen with an island, breakfast bar, and a dining table and chairs.
It was a luxurious property—and one he could more than afford. Not only did Braden pay him extremely well, Adam had invested in his own rental properties these last two years and it supplemented his income nicely.
I took another look around the large space, smirking. Unlike my flat, Adam’s was completely clutter-free. Everything in it was carefully chosen and had a proper place. In fact, if I didn’t know first-hand that he was the straightest straight guy ever (well, with the exception of Braden), Adam’s duplex might have convinced me otherwise.
Until Fountain Bridge: (InterMix) Page 5
