The Careless Boyfriend

by Erika Kelly

  Brodie had been eighteen years old and weeks away from the Games when a childhood injury had reared up and forced his retirement.

  “That was some kind of pressure to put on a kid, you know?” Brodie said. “Like I had any control over whether I’d get on that podium. And if I didn’t…I’d have to look at the empty case the rest of my life.”

  “Yeah, but that came from Coach. He drilled it into us, about visualization. I think Dad just wanted you to have absolute confidence, like that medal was yours.”

  “True, true.” Brodie still looked troubled. “But it wasn’t, and now it sits empty, and…I guess I want to know why you’re going for it.”

  “Who else is going to?” He side-eyed his brother with a mischievous grin.

  “I’m serious, man. You don’t give two shits about it.”

  “You think I don’t want an Olympic medal?” He sure as hell did.

  “I don’t know. I’m asking.”

  “Don’t strain your brain. It’s not that complicated. I’m going for it.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  He couldn’t be pissed at his brothers for not being interested in his life and then shut them out when they asked. “On some level, I want the medal to honor Dad and everything he did for us. It’ll close out an era, and we can all move on.” And figure out who we are outside of snow sports. “But, also? I’m going to win it because I’m sick of you guys thinking I’m a fuckin’ slacker.”

  Brodie cut him a hard look. “We only know what we see.”

  Well, he’d taken care of that, hadn’t he? Cat’s out of the bag.

  “And if you’re going to win it,” Brodie said. “Then you’d better get your head in it.”

  He started to argue, but his brother was right. He dropped his head into his hands. “Got a lot on my mind.”

  “Work stuff?”

  Last time he’d opened up about Knox, he’d gotten shut down. His dad’s words still reverberated in his head.

  Every minute you spend alone with that girl is a betrayal to your friend.

  Walk away, son. No good can come out of this.

  What if she falls for you? What happens then? You going to be boyfriend and girlfriend right in front of Robert?

  And the worst one of all, A man makes choices, not all of them easy. Listen to your gut. And if your gut’s not telling you to keep away from that girl, then you’re not the man I raised.

  Because his gut hadn’t told him to walk away. And that meant he wasn’t the man his dad thought he knew.

  It meant his dad hadn’t known him at all.

  And now here he was, seven years later, right back in the mess of wanting a woman he couldn’t have. Only this time, he’d gotten the taste of her. He’d mapped the flare of her hips and curve of her ass with his hands.

  Sensation shot through him, practically lifting him off the bench.

  Worse, he’d felt her surrender—if only momentarily. There’s no going back from that. It might’ve been a mistake for her, but for him? It had been a game-changer.

  He looked down at his boots, kicked a tuft of crab grass. “I’ve got a thing for Knox.”

  Brodie stiffened.

  It shouldn’t have felt this good to get it off his chest. “Always have.”

  “Back when she was with Robert?” his brother asked.

  “Yeah.” He let out a harsh exhalation.

  “And now?”

  “She doesn’t see me like that.”

  Brodie looked at the inflatable ramp, watching some guys do flips. “Shit timing.”

  “Timing doesn’t matter. She’s just not into me.”

  “No, I mean running into her now. The next five months, you need your focus.”

  “I know.”

  “And you’re not going to be around much.”

  “Yeah, I know that.” He must’ve been a slow learner. Why the hell did he think it was a good idea to open up about this shit again?

  Brodie shifted his ass back on the bench. “You’re a winner. And not because you’re lucky or a Bowie.” Brodie turned and looked him right in the eye. “You’re a winner because you’re smart and you work your ass off. So, come back in five months and win the girl.”

  Knox felt the eyes in the restaurant on her like a thousand red ants swarming on her back. She wrapped her hand around the glass of ice water, wishing she could bring it to her temple to cool herself down.

  The only thing keeping her from bolting was logic. Since she’d chosen the seat facing the wall, she couldn’t see the patrons, but in all honesty, how many of them were her bullies from high school? How many recognized the back of her head and were ready to chuck their dirty napkins at her?

  Besides, it was her first Ladies Night Out…ever. And the company was awesome.

  “I gave it up at sixteen. To Fin.” In her slim-fitting black leather pants, suede ankle boots, and magenta-colored blouse, Callie looked like a New Yorker through and through. Chic, gorgeous, and totally sophisticated. “It hurt. It was messy. And it was over so fast I didn’t ever want to do it again.”

  “Truth.” Delilah reached for her cocktail. “To the first time sucking.”

  They all raised their glasses. Knox tried really hard to play along, but she couldn’t keep the creepy-crawly feeling at bay. Did anyone recognize her? Were they talking about her?

  She needed to shut it down and pay attention to the conversation. The problem wasn’t that someone would recognize her—she was honestly so over the immature idiots. It was that they’d embarrass her in front of her friends.

  “I lost it to Saxton Montgomery, the third.” Delilah made a comical expression. Yup, I did that. “This famous chef did a culinary program on Cape Cod the summer between junior and senior year. Sexy Saxy ‘summered’ on the Cape, and we met on the beach. He was tan and fit with floppy hair and—looking back—unnaturally white teeth.”

  Knox hadn’t known Delilah long, but it was becoming clear the woman had no particular style. One day she wore kitchen clogs with leggings and a rock band T-shirt, another day she had on baggy boyfriend jeans and a slouchy cotton sweater, and tonight…tonight she rocked a dark red sweater dress that accentuated every curve on her voluptuous figure. She was a knockout.

  “Sounds like boy-band hot,” Calle said.

  “Totally,” Delilah said. “Anyhow, I crushed hard on him, showed up at all the places I thought he might be. Finally, he asked me out. Just the two of us for a fancy dinner. I thought it was weird, you know? Like, we’re seventeen but going out to an old school fancy restaurant. But my sister goes, ‘Well, he knows you’re there for culinary school and wants to take you somewhere nice.’” She shrugged. “I bought it.”

  “Turns out he just wanted to get in your pants?” Knox said.

  “Exactly. But it didn’t work. That date was so boring, I immediately lost interest in him. God, he was obnoxious, talking about his dad’s yacht and their second and third and fifteenth houses around the world.” She faked a yawn, patting her mouth. “But I guess that got his attention, because the rest of the summer he worked hard to get me.”

  “He stopped being obnoxious?” Callie asked.

  “He did. He dropped the act. We had some good moments. Until we finally did the deed.” She lifted her eyebrows in a look that said, Can you guess what happened next?

  “Don’t tell me he ghosted you?” Callie said.

  “Yep. Right after I slept with him. Never heard from him again.”

  “Oh, ouch. What a dick.” Callie lifted her wine glass. “To good men who don’t objectify women.”

  “To good men.” All three clinked glasses

  Callie tipped her chin to Knox. “I’m guessing you gave it up to Robert.”

  Knox hesitated. At the end of sixth grade, her class had taken a field trip to the community garden. She’d worked alongside Lisa Bettner. For the first half hour, Lisa had chattered nonstop, while Knox remained quiet.

  Eventually, though, she’d found herself relaxing, and a
t one point, when Lisa had asked what her mom did for a living, Knox had said she was an artist. That she used scraps of metal she found in junkyards to make sculptures. It had all seemed innocent enough, until she’d gone back to school the next day and found herself tagged the junkyard dog, a title that had stayed with her until she’d left town at the end of senior year.

  So, Knox didn’t trust easily. But there came a point when a woman couldn’t use her past as an excuse anymore. And that point was now. “I did.”

  Callie started to raise her glass and, while Knox was curious to hear what the toast might be, she cut it off when she blurted, “But I was too young.”

  The smiles abruptly died, and both women waited for more. Not in a salacious way but with interest and concern. “Robert and I were inseparable. His mom spent more time in Manhattan than Calamity, and his dad was always in Los Angeles, hanging out with starlets and getting high.”

  “What about your parents?” Delilah asked.

  Oh, yuck, yuck, yuck. This is why I don’t make friends easily. Because I hate talking about my life. There was no fun way to spin her childhood. “My mom’s got what her friends like to call a joie de vivre. Which means she lives for adventure. She hates to be tied down, so she’s a seasonal worker and an artist. As far as my father…well, like I said, she’s a seasonal worker, so, he was gone by the time she found out she was pregnant.”

  “So, you were alone a lot,” Delilah said.

  “I had Robert. We did everything together.” She had great memories of those early years. Hanging out by his pool all summer, doing stupid diving contests and trying peanut butter on everything they could find in the pantry and refrigerator. They’d wander the hills and trails, free to say whatever was on their minds. “But then we reached an age where…”

  “Hormones hit,” Callie said.

  She loved that they understood so readily and without judgement. “Exactly.”

  “Can I ask a weird question?” Delilah said.

  Knox tried to nod, but it felt like her neck had been bolted on too tightly. She might be sharing but that didn’t mean it felt good.

  “Did you love him? Like, the way Callie and Fin were in love?”

  Knox closed her fingers around the glass salt shaker in the middle of the table and tapped it against the pepper. “No.” The word came out a whisper wrenched from a dank, secret place inside her. “I needed him. We were inseparable. But it was only after I left—and I mean a long time after—that I realized it had never been romantic love. I think we went from kids who hung out to me trying to keep him clean all the time. There wasn’t a time where we could have been in love. Does that make sense?”

  “Totally,” Delilah said.

  Callie nodded. “I get that.”

  “And the same went for sex. We had urges, and so we experimented with each other. It felt safe and totally comfortable. Like, we laughed through every awkward moment. I could tell him what he was doing that wasn’t working, and it was like building a car engine together. Here, you do this, and I’ll do that. Put this over here and that over there.”

  “…junkyard dog?”

  Two words rose above the chatter in the bar. She could’ve misheard out of her own insecurities, but it sent a chill down Knox’s spine. She forced herself to roll right through, barely missing a beat. “I know it sounds sad, but there was no better person to have all my firsts with.” Because the addiction didn’t kick into high gear until sophomore year.

  “It is,” a woman said. “I’m sure of it.”

  Was it just that her antennae were out and scanning for trigger words? Had to be. No one’s sitting in this fancy restaurant talking about you. Get over yourself.

  “Holy shit, you’re right. It is the junkyard dog.” The voice was loud enough to get Callie swinging around to see who was talking, so, unfortunately, no, she wasn’t overreacting.

  In an uncharacteristically loud voice, Callie said. “Ignore them. People are assholes.”

  “What’s going on?” Delilah leaned in, clearly aware of the tension.

  The old Knox would’ve looked them right in the eye, flipped them the bird, and then come up with a plan for swift retribution. But, not only didn’t she have the energy for that kind of crap anymore, she wouldn’t embarrass Delilah in her elegant restaurant.

  She would, though, prepare her in case things got ugly. Focused on twisting the ring on her finger, she said, “In school, they used to call me the junkyard dog.” Brace. “And just to be sure I fully got the reference, they’d bark at me. My mom wasn’t home a lot, so I got to hear it all by myself in the trailer as they’d drive by.”

  For a long, tense moment, neither of the women said anything. So help me…if she saw even a hint of pity in their eyes, she was out of there. Instead, Delilah grabbed both her hands, and said, “No wonder you haven’t wanted to go out with us. I wouldn’t want anything to do with these jerks, either.” She gave them a firm squeeze. “I’m sorry. That’s a terrible way to grow up.”

  “Want to get out of here?” Callie said.

  “Nope.” Now that the truth was out, the bullies couldn’t hurt her anymore. “I’m good. Let’s finish our drinks.

  “Okay, so, back to losing it too young.” Callie lifted her wine glass. “Here’s to finding the right man to have mind-blowing sex with.”

  “Oh, here, here.” Delilah squirmed. “Nothing so good as when it’s the right guy.”

  “What about in Paris?” Callie asked Knox. “Did you have a hot Parisian boyfriend?”

  Finally, something fun to say. “I did. It was never serious—believe me, I was working all the time—but he definitely wined and dined me. His family had a chateau in the Loire Valley, and we basically traveled all over Europe together.”

  “Arf arf arf.”

  A burst of laughter followed the yipping, and it rattled her bones. Knox was stunned. Stunned that, at twenty-five, they hadn’t outgrown their evil ways.

  And then, a deeper, more booming voice, barked. Before Knox could even devise her eye-for-an-eye plan, Delilah shot up so quickly her chair actually toppled over. She strode the few feet over to the cluster of idiots laughing at the bar. In a quiet, but hard, voice she gestured for the bartender and said, “Settle up their tab right now, Clarence.”

  “Oh, we’re not done,” a man said.

  “We just got here.” Cady.

  Knox would recognize the whine in that voice anywhere.

  “And now you’re leaving.”

  Wait, what? Knox had to turn around to witness Delilah taking up for her.

  The man scoffed. “You can’t tell us what to do.”

  “Sure, I can,” Delilah said. “I’m the owner, and we don’t serve juveniles here.”

  “You think I’m underage?” The man laughed. “You want my ID?”

  “I want you out of my restaurant. Only a soulless person could bark at another human being, and we don’t serve the undead. You’re banned. For life.”

  Cady hitched her Louis Vuitton bag up her shoulder, the get-out-of trouble card played by so many daughters of rich parents. “Do you know who I am?”

  “I know that you’re a heartless bitch. Now, get out of my restaurant or I will not hesitate to make a scene and embarrass the hell out of you.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The minute Knox walked in the door that evening, she tossed her tote onto the couch—the only surface in the entire room not loaded with sewing materials—and hit the kitchen. She needed tea. Warm, soothing tea.

  Holding the kettle under the tap, it made her sick to see her hands shaking. She couldn’t believe Callie and Delilah had witnessed the barking. Did Cady Toller have no life? Hadn’t she had a single life experience that would’ve taught her some compassion?

  God, she hated Calamity. Hated it. The kettle landed on the stove with a clatter, and she flipped the dial to high. Pulling down a mug from the cabinet, she dropped a tea bag into it.

  To bark at her in a fancy restaurant…in fron
t of Knox’s new friends.

  Horrifying.

  Opening the bottom drawer, she snapped a square of chocolate off the bar she kept hidden in a piece of aluminum foil. When that first bite of dark, creamy goodness hit her taste buds, she pulled in a deep breath and took in the bunkhouse, crammed now with work stations.

  Some of her employees left theirs a mess of fabric, scissors, and measuring tape. Others left not a single item out of place.

  This is who Callie and Delilah know. Not the girl in the trailer.

  I’m a fashion designer, and I’m kicking ass.

  Well, in the bunkhouse on the Bowe ranch, but still. She wouldn’t be here long.

  The knock—no, pounding—on the door startled her. “Knox? It’s Gray.”

  She hadn’t seen him since they’d returned from LA. The morning after the kiss.

  Her fingers brushed over her lips. That kiss.

  “Knox?”

  She quickly wrapped the chocolate bar back up and stowed it in the drawer, before hurrying to the door. All these hours later, and she could still feel the hot imprint of his hungry mouth.

  “I’m coming.” She sounded irritated when, really, she was thrilled.

  She’d lain awake that night for hours, her body electrified, stunned that Gray Bowie wanted her with that kind of passion. But, also, scared witless, because nothing could happen between them. She would never compromise their friendship or their working relationship for a hookup—no matter how spectacular. And that’s all Gray had to offer.

  A scorching, unforgettable round of sex.

  He just wasn’t a relationship kind of guy.

  Well, maybe he could make it work with someone in his posse, someone who shared his nomadic lifestyle. But she needed to be in one place, working.

  She threw open the door. “What’s the matter?”

  He looked her up and down, chest rising and falling, like he’d heard she’d been attacked by a mountain lion. But he didn’t say anything.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing.”

  He’d heard. Just awesome. “Okay, well.” She turned and walked away from him. Word had obviously gotten around about the barking, and the very last thing she needed was anyone’s pity. “Come in. I’m just making some tea. Want some?”