But he simply smiled and hopped up to his feet, offering his hand. “Do you trust me enough to sleep on my couch tonight?” he said. “It might be a little better than a hallway floor.”
All of my single gal sensibilities screamed at me, telling me that accepting an invitation into a strange man’s apartment was a terrible idea. But this was Catherine’s neighbor. She would have warned me if she lived next to a creep, right? Besides, he was right. If I spent all night in this hallway, it would only be even harder to get myself back on track once morning hit. I wasn’t helpless, and if Brennon tried anything…
He must have seen something in my expression, because he smiled and crouched back down so he was at eye level with me. “I promise I’m not the kind of guy to try something skeezy,” he said gently. “In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever used the word skeezy before. But if it makes you feel any better, I am very aware that you’re Seth Hastings’s sister. I’m smart enough to know when I’m outmatched, and I have no intention of seeing if you live up to your name.”
He made a good point. If Seth had any reason to think I’d been poorly treated, Brennon would be lucky to escape with his life. But it wasn’t that thought that made me take his hand and let him pull me up to my feet. It was the idea that a man could think I was capable on my own. I had almost stopped believing such a thing was possible.
* * *
I woke with a start and immediately regretted all my life choices.
I was never going to drink again. It wasn’t worth the hammer in my head and the churning in my stomach. Or maybe that was the three pieces of cheesecake. Oh man, I felt awful. It had been so long since I slept anywhere but on my outrageously priced mattress that I’d forgotten how stiff I could get when sleeping on something like a couch, and my entire spine felt like it had melded into a single piece.
Wait. Couch. Sleep.
I sat straight up as my heart burst into double-time. What had I done? Oh man, I was way too drunk to let a man lead me into his apartment, no matter how trustworthy he seemed, and while I had very little memory of the night before, I could recall getting awfully snuggly with a guy I didn’t even know. How stupid could I be? But a quick investigation, along with some foggy memories of Brennon pulling a blanket over me then disappearing, told me I was fine. Nothing had happened. I was stupid, but I was fine.
I might as well have been wearing a sign around my neck that said, “Lissa Montgomery: Maker of Bad Decisions since Last Week.” First quitting my job, and now this. I was on a roll. And I was usually so responsible…
“Brennon is a lot of things,” someone said suddenly, and I gasped and turned to the stranger sitting at a kitchen table. A bowl of cereal sat in front of him, and pain-inducing sunshine from the window behind him threw him into silhouette. “But, to my never-ending disappointment, he is not a pig. So he’s got that going for him.”
That wasn’t Brennon. While I was thinking about it, where was Brennon? Had he just abandoned me the moment I passed out?
Either I asked the question out loud or he could read my thoughts, because the Cereal Guy finished loudly chewing and said, “Like any respectable stockbroker, my idiotic roommate went to work on a Sunday instead of making breakfast for the pretty girl he brought home from a wedding.”
Roommate. Seriously? I’d naturally assumed, given the location of his apartment and his proximity to the likes of Catherine Davenport, that Brennon wasn’t exactly wanting for money. His Armani suit may have helped lead to that conclusion, so why on earth would he need a roommate? Maybe the guy was lonely. After all, he didn’t believe in love.
But first things first. “He didn’t bring me home,” I mumbled, trying to untangle myself from the blanket over me. Only then did I remember I was wearing someone else’s clothes, since Brennon had rightfully guessed I was less than enthused about remaining in my too-tight dress. Brennon’s shirt smelled just like him, and I took a deep breath with my nose in the collar. “I live across the hall,” I added, remembering that I wasn’t sitting here alone. I reached for my dress, where it rested on the back of the couch, and tried to shake myself awake.
Cereal Guy cleared his throat then dumped some more cereal into his bowl, each little piece bouncing around inside my skull as it hit the bowl. “Not that I claim to know Catherine Davenport well,” he said, “but I’m pretty sure you’re not her.”
Well duh. Catherine was flawless, way too intelligent to accept an invitation like I had. She probably didn’t even drink anymore. “She’s my…” Wow, I really needed some coffee or water or a new head altogether. What was that word? “She’s my new sister-in-law. I’m staying at her place until I head back to Boston.”
Now where did I put my shoes?
Cereal was almost silent as he watched me dig around the blankets in search of the heels that had given me good and proper blisters, the crunch of his chewing the only sound he made. But when I kicked my toe into the coffee table and shouted a curse, he snorted half a laugh.
“Who even are you?” I demanded as I curled my toes against the pain. One shoe poked out from under the table, though, and I was pretty sure the other had to be nearby.
“Steve,” he said lightly. “Bren’s my best friend, even if he can be an idiot.”
I had to crawl beneath the table to reach and probably looked like an idiot myself with my rear end sticking up behind me in pants that were not mine. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I grunted.
“He’s out there earning a living and missing all the fun here at home.”
Banging my head on the table above me, I bit back another curse but only because I needed that anger to give this Steve a decent glare. “I’m glad you’re entertained,” I said.
“Oh, I definitely am. I don’t even remember the last time I had this much fun.”
I wished I could see his face so I could see if it matched his cocky, manly voice, but the sun was way too bright behind him. Looking at him too closely would probably kill me with the added headache it would bring. “Do you always laugh at helpless women?” I asked.
“Just the ones who pretend they’re not,” he said lightly. “Though I’m not sure I would call you helpless.”
“What would you call me then?”
“Desperate.”
“Excuse me?”
He laughed for real, though it sounded off. Almost wrong. Like he’d forgotten how to do it properly. “Don’t get me wrong,” he said. “I’m sure you’re very smart and capable. But you could do so much better than Brennon Ashworth.” If he wasn’t struggling to hold back his laughter, I’d almost think he was serious. And for some reason that made me smile. Only a true best friend would say something like that, and it was clear he thought very highly of Brennon.
“Well thanks for the warning,” I said, finally locating my other shoe and moving to the door so I could figure out how to get my clutch from Lanna, since I had no idea where she lived or how to get in touch with her. “I’ll be sure to tell him you said so.” I had no intention of seeing Brennon again, though, since my flight was later that day. He would just have to be a pleasant and somewhat alarming memory. Proof that I wasn’t a lost cause but should probably work on my self-control before I got myself into trouble.
“Happy to oblige,” Steve replied, and when I glanced back, I caught a glimpse of a smile in the sunlight.
So maybe Brennon wasn’t what I thought he was. He hadn’t taken advantage of me last night, and his best friend obviously thought well of him. And while he wasn’t exactly original with his pickup lines and advances, at least he was honest. And sympathetic. It was too bad I wasn’t staying longer, or I might actually consider seeing if maybe he—
I stopped just as I reached for the doorknob and stared at my clutch, which sat on a little shelf that hung right next to the door. With it was a note:
I called Lanna Munroe last night after you fell asleep so someone would know where you were, and she brought your things over this morning. While I enjoyed our little hal
lway chat, I’d love the chance to get to know you when you’re sober. Meet me for brunch? - Bren
Whoa. Never mind the dude left me a handwritten note—and had impeccably neat handwriting—but I couldn’t remember the last time a man had actually wanted to meet sober me after meeting the much less uptight drunk me. Then there was the fact that he had apparently called Catherine’s cousin, and not just to earn himself some points, since I was already fast asleep at that point. That was above and beyond what any decent human would do. Was Brennon Ashworth even real?
My head hurt, my back ached, and I had a flight in a few hours, but as I stood there looking at the time and place he suggested and thinking about how much I wanted to see his ridiculously handsome smile again, I was quickly running out of reasons why I shouldn’t spend my last few hours in California with him. What would I do otherwise? Flip through TV channels and sip a sports drink until my cab arrived to bring me back to my big fat load of nothing in Boston.
Coffee and quiche with an attractive guy sounded a whole lot better.
Chapter Five
“You came!” Brennon’s smile hit me hard, nearly tripping me as I stepped onto the sidewalk outside the cafe. Dang, he’d managed to look even more attractive, which I didn’t think was possible. A tailored suit was generally the best attire for looking good, and yet Brennon Ashworth managed to outdo himself with a simple button-up shirt and dark jeans. It made him look a little more human.
“You sound surprised,” I said. Goodness, he even pulled out my chair for me.
“I hope you won’t get too cold sitting outside,” he continued without acknowledging my comment. “I like to get fresh air when I can, and that isn’t often.”
I glanced down at the sweater I’d chosen and couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah, I grew up in Vermont, remember?” I said. “I’ll be fine.” In fact, I was almost regretting not wearing a shirt and jacket so I could take the jacket off once the sun got higher and get some color. No wonder Seth liked living out here, where even in December the air was pretty warm. I was used to snow and lots of it.
Brennon’s smile grew wider. “Good,” he said. “Coffee?”
“You read my mind.” For a man who didn’t believe in love, he certainly knew how to act on a date. Assuming this was a date. I honestly wasn’t sure, not that it really mattered.
“I hope you slept okay,” he said, giving me an unusual amount of eye contact. I couldn’t decide if it was refreshing or unnerving, but I wasn’t about to stop him from doing it. For once, a man seemed to want to know what was going through my head. “I thought about letting you use my bed and taking the couch myself,” he continued, “but I didn’t want to move you. You looked so…peaceful.”
That twitch of his lips said otherwise. “How bad was I?” I asked. “I snored, didn’t I?”
Still fighting his smile, he shrugged a little and pretended to be fascinated by the menu in front of him. “Drooled,” he coughed.
I should have been mortified. And while yes, my face felt like it was on fire, it wasn’t because I was embarrassed. It was because Brennon lifted his eyes to meet mine and somehow managed to convey with a single look that he had absolutely no problem with the way I had acted last night. In fact, I suspected he almost found it endearing.
Seriously, how was he real?
“That’s just my way of marking my territory,” I replied, and my face burned again. Definitely shouldn’t have said that.
But he laughed loud enough that a couple of people turned to see what was so amusing, and I found myself smiling along with him. “Lissa Montgomery,” he said, shaking his head. Apparently, he didn’t mind my inability to keep my thoughts to myself. “You are nothing like I expected, and I’m liking you more and more as the time goes by. Where have you been hiding all this time?”
Way too far away, apparently.
* * *
“So wait,” Brennon said, a piece of avocado stuck to the end of his fork as he pointed it at me. “You have a dual degree in economics and business from Yale, and you were never made partner? You’ve got to be kidding.”
Shrugging, I fought back memories of the faces of triumph I had to pass with my box of belongings as I left Mikaelson and Hewitt a few days ago. “That’s how it goes for a woman,” I said and fought against a sigh. I wasn’t trying to be self-deprecating or even fishing for pity. It was fact, simple as that.
Brennon shook his head and set his fork on his plate before he threw food everywhere. “Maybe on the East Coast,” he said, “but not here. Our VP is a woman, and she’s, well, honestly she’s more terrifying than any of the men I work with.”
Exactly. “Because she has to be,” I replied. “If she was any more feminine, any softer, she probably couldn’t have gotten that far.” This was not where I wanted our conversation to turn, and I frantically tried to find a way to bring our discussion back to music where it had been an hour earlier. This shift to my job—or lack of—was not where I’d wanted the focus to end up.
“Maybe,” he admitted, “but maybe not. I can see why you left. If they weren’t smart enough to realize you could have saved some of those companies millions of dollars, they don’t deserve you. You could come work with me!”
Whoa now. I laughed to cover the sheer terror that filled me at his comment. “I’m going back to Boston in three hours, Bren.” When had I started calling him Bren?
“You don’t have to,” he argued, his gaze so intense that I couldn’t look away even though I had a delightful bite of toast left on my plate that I wanted to devour. There was nothing in the world quite like San Franciscan sourdough. “It’s not like you have a job to go back to.”
Technically that was true, but—
“Besides, I kind of like sitting across from you and watching you try not to look at that last bit of food. You can eat it, you know.”
I had to be dreaming. No man could be this perfect, and yet he sat there clear as day, holding back a breathtaking grin and easily breaking through my excuses. If I wasn’t careful, this self-proclaimed love cynic was going to uproot my entire existence, and I wasn’t totally sure that was a bad thing. There was just one thing…
“I don’t want to work in finance,” I said, and it felt like a weight had just lifted from my shoulders. I hadn’t even considered the idea until just that moment, but the epiphany was absolutely liberating. Being a financial analyst was still fighting for a place in a man’s world, and until that changed, I was tired of being asked to get coffee and getting interrupted every other sentence. Helping rich corporations get richer wasn’t fulfilling. It never had been. “I don’t want to be that kind of woman.”
Brennon’s smile softened, warmer than ever. “What kind of woman do you want to be?” he asked.
I took a deep breath. “I have no idea. Someone who helps people, not companies. Someone who can actually make a difference in someone else’s life. Whatever that means.”
“Well.” He reached out, sliding his fingers between mine and practically looking into my soul as we sat there. What did he see? “What if…” He actually looked a little nervous. “What if you stay a little longer, and I can help you figure that out? I’d love to go on a third date, if you’re willing.”
Adorable. “Sitting in a hallway when I’m completely drunk does not count as a date,” I said, though I smiled at him and held onto his hand a little tighter. This was a terrible idea.
“Fine,” he said. “A second date, then. I really am glad you came this morning.”
I grinned. “I happen to like brunch.”
“Brunch,” he replied, shaking his head. “You’re really something, Lissa Montgomery.” But then his face fell, and he pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced at the screen. “Sorry,” he muttered before lifting it to his ear. “Steve?”
I took a couple of deep breaths while he listened to his roommate, trying to convince myself that I was not allowed to let myself get in too deep with this specimen in front of me. No matter how charmi
ng he was, no matter how sincere he seemed, this was still a guy who flat-out admitted he didn’t believe in love, which begged the question of where he thought this thing would go if I stayed. If I let myself think there was even a possibility with the guy, I would end up getting hurt, just like I always did. No, better to keep a safe distance if I could.
“Is he okay?” Brennon asked into his phone, his voice strained. That didn’t sound good. “I understand. Thank you. Yeah, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” When he hung up, he was pale, almost shaking as he sat there, and my stomach twisted in my gut.
“Brennon?”
He blinked, and I was surprised to see tears in his eyes. “That was, um, the hospital near my condo,” he said. “My roommate, Steve, was hit by a car.”
Horrified, I put a hand to my mouth. “Is he okay?” I asked, speaking his own question back at him.
Slowly pulling his hand away from mine, Brennon shrugged. The suave and carefree man was gone, replaced by one who clearly didn’t know how he was supposed to act anymore. “I think so,” he mumbled. “I don’t know. They said he’s pretty banged up. Sorry, but I need…” Swallowing, he got to his feet and stood there looking completely lost. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”
He took one step before I grabbed his arm and stopped him. “Let me come with you,” I said. “Please. You sound like you need a friend.”
He stood there and stared at me for a long several seconds, a range of emotions crossing his face. Then he slipped his hand into mine and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you,” he whispered then led the way to his car.
Fortunately, Brennon wasn’t so shaken that he couldn’t drive, considering I had no idea how to navigate this city. He kept a tight hold on my hand as he drove, and I liked to think I was actually doing him some good. He seemed calmer with me next to him, and I hated thinking how anxious he might be without someone with him. And, though it made me feel a little terrible, I was infinitely more attracted to him knowing he was so worried about his friend. Most of the guys I had dated in the past wouldn’t have been nearly this concerned.
In Front of Me Page 4