Hearts at Play

by Melissa Foster

  She stepped closer to the car and covered her mouth, then looked at Hugh and shook her head. “Who are you?” she whispered.

  Hugh had never wanted to be someone different in his life. He was proud of the things he’d accomplished with his racing career, his college degree, and his family. But at that moment, with a hint of fear in Brianna’s eyes, he wished he were Joe Nobody. He stepped closer to her and ran his hands up her arms to her shoulders. She felt so small beneath his jacket.

  “I’m the same guy I was in the bar and the same guy you had coffee with. I’m Hugh. Hugh Braden.” He shrugged.

  She drew her eyebrows together again, and the worried look deepened, stealing her smile and replacing it with a serious mask. “But who are you?”

  “How can I answer that, Bree? I’m a son, a brother, a friend to some people. That’s who I am. And a guy who wants to get to know you better.” He knew he couldn’t avoid telling her what she wanted to know, but every bit of him screamed, Let her see the real you first!

  “What do you do for a living?”

  He slid his hands across her shoulders and cupped her face with his hands. “Does that really make a difference?”

  She stepped out of his grasp. “Maybe.”

  “I’m not a drug runner, or a thief, or anything else that you’d be ashamed of.” The muscles in his neck knotted.

  “Is it that difficult to tell me? Are you married?”

  “No.”

  “Ever been?”

  “No, Bree.” He stepped forward, and she stepped backward. “Bree.” He glanced away and ran his hand through his hair. “All I wanted was to get to know you without my career hanging over our heads. That’s all. It’s so hard to be normal when people know who I am.”

  “So you’re someone important?” She crossed her arms.

  “No. I’m not.” He stepped closer. “I’ll tell you who I am, but please don’t judge me by it, and don’t…change. You’re so sweet and kind and good.”

  “I’m pretty sure I can remain the person I’ve been for the past twenty-eight years even if I know who you are.”

  “Are you sure? Because I really enjoy spending time with you, and once you know who I am, you might see me differently.” Like everyone else I’ve ever met.

  “Hugh, why would I do that? You are who you are.”

  Hugh didn’t know what drove him to take her face in his hands, or to look her in the eyes and ask, “May I just kiss you once before you know who I am?” but when she nodded in agreement and he lowered his lips to hers, he was damn glad he’d done it. Kissing Bree was the sweetest thing he’d ever experienced. Her lips were soft and full, her tongue tentative, then a minute later, eager, but not too aggressive, and she made the sexiest little moans that he wasn’t sure she realized she’d even emitted. He wrapped his palm around the base of her neck and deepened the kiss, slowly loving her delicious mouth, and then her delicate hands were on his waist and every bit of him hungered for more as she ran her fingers up his back and their bodies came together. They kissed until they had no fresh air in their lungs. Every breath of his became hers, and when they came away, Hugh was numb, breathing hard and fighting the desire to take her in another greedy kiss.

  “Thank you.” He kissed her forehead and moved to open the trunk of the car so he could show her his racing jacket.

  “Wait.” Bree grabbed him by the back of his shirt. Her fingers trembled against his skin. “You’re really worried that it’ll change how I see you?”

  He shrugged. “I hope not, but I wanted you to know me for who I am before you knew me as what I do for a living. But…”

  “And you’re not going to tell me that you’re something bad? Someone I should be afraid of?” She closed her eyes. “Wait. That’s a stupid question. If you were, you wouldn’t tell me.”

  He leaned his forehead against hers. Her perfume wafted up at him again and he nearly lost his voice. “Bree, you don’t know me, and I barely know you. And I know you have no reason to believe or trust me, but I promise you that I will not ever lie to you, even if I worry that it’ll hurt you. I think honesty is one of the most important things a person can promise someone, and I promise you honesty.”

  “Hugh, this is so unfair.” She put her hands flat on his chest.

  Her touch felt so good, so right, so different from that of the grabby, forward women he was used to being with. He placed his hand over hers just to feel the realness of it.

  “I want to know who you are because I can’t protect my daughter unless I know who I’m involved with. I respect your worry about things changing, and you’re right, I don’t know you, but I think for Layla’s sake, I have to risk things changing. I have to know who I’m with to protect her.”

  Hugh’s heart swelled in his chest. He nodded, unable to find words to express how beautiful that love for her daughter made her appear. He opened the trunk and took out his racing jacket, emblazoned with the logos of his sponsors, and his black driving gloves. Without a word, he handed them to her.

  She ran her fingers over the logos, along the sleeves, and she traced the number thirty-two on the left breast. Then she took the gloves from Hugh and placed them on top of the jacket. She spread her petite hand over one enormous glove and smiled when her fingers reached just past the indentation of the second knuckle.

  She looked up at him, then back down at the jacket. “This is supposed to mean something to me, and I get that, but, Hugh, my life is work and my daughter. I’m not sure what gloves and a jacket like this really mean. I know I sound stupid, but I’m not. I guess I just live in this tiny bubble of first grade, board games, and making ends meet.”

  Hugh didn’t even try to fight the urge to reach out to her. He folded her in his arms and pressed her to his chest. “I really like that about you.” When they drew apart, he put the jacket and gloves back in the trunk and withdrew the latest issue of Racing magazine, then placed it in her hands.

  She looked down at it, and he watched her eyes narrow. She blew out a long breath as she ran her fingers over the image of his face. She squinted, her mouth set in a serious line. Then she looked up at him and touched his cheek before looking at the magazine and running her finger over the image again, as if she were comparing the contours of his jaw.

  “So, this is you?” she said quietly.

  “That’s what I do, not who I am,” he clarified.

  She nodded. “It’s dangerous, right?”

  “You could say that.”

  “And this is why we haven’t seen you around, right? You travel a lot, to race?” Her fingers were still running over his image.

  “Yeah.”

  She nodded. “I’m glad I know.” Worry lines stretched across her forehead. “I know about the race track, but honestly, I’ve never been. I don’t have time to breathe, much less follow any sort of sports, but there are entire bars in town that cater to the fans. Restaurants too.”

  “I know. I purposely avoid them.”

  She nodded again, as if she understood, and Hugh wondered if she could possibly realize what it was really like to wonder if people gravitated toward him for what he represented rather than who he was.

  He reached for the magazine, and she pressed it to her chest.

  “May I keep it?”

  He felt the air around them shift, and he didn’t like the way it blew her a little farther away than she’d been a moment before.

  “Sure.” He opened the car door and closed it after she was settled in the luxurious seat. “It’s after two. Why don’t we go by my place so you can pick out—pick up—a car. I’ll follow you back to your place, so you’re not arriving home alone this late, and then, when your car is done tomorrow, I’ll bring it to you and we’ll swap cars.”

  “I can’t take one of your cars,” she said. “By the looks of it, your cars are worth more than my mother’s house.”

  Hugh reached across the seat and took her hand in his. “You’re borrowing a car. I promised you’d have what you n
eeded, and I always follow through with my promises.”

  She shook her head. “Hugh, I wouldn’t feel comfortable in an expensive car. You saw what I drive. It’s a nine-year-old Honda Civic. Not exactly a luxury car. And it barely runs. That’s more my style.”

  He leaned across the seat, and he knew he was pushing his luck, but he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her closer, then pressed another soft kiss to her lips. “I respect whatever decisions you make, but you’re a working mom, and you don’t have your daughter with you tonight at least partially because you need to work tomorrow. Take my car; fulfill your obligation; then you can forget you ever drove it.” He started the car and drove toward home.

  By the time he pulled into the garage, Brianna had been asleep for ten minutes. Hugh had a lot of experience with women. He could handle drunk women, horny women, tired and cranky women, but he had absolutely zero experience with beautiful women he actually wanted to get to know in more than a carnal way falling asleep in his car. Should I wake her up? Carry her inside? Drive her to wherever she lives and carry her inside there? Her face tilted toward the window and her hands were folded in her lap. She could have been just closing her eyes for a moment, save for the even, peaceful breathing that came only when all the cares of life were set aside—and he doubted that Brianna set aside her cares easily. She was definitely sleeping. She’d worked a long shift at Old Town Tavern, and she had said she’d had an appointment before that, which he now assumed, given her financial situation, was a second job of some sort. She had to be exhausted. He thought about his oldest brother, Treat, and wondered what he would do in the same situation. Treat was the epitome of a gentleman, and Hugh looked up to him for that and for many other reasons. He nodded in the silent car and made his decision.

  Brianna snuggled against him as he carried her down the hall to the first-floor master bedroom, where he laid her on the king-sized bed, removed her boots, and covered her with a blanket. She rolled onto her stomach, and her dark hair fanned out from her head. Hugh had seen many women in his bed, but never had he stood above the bed and looked down upon any of them without a sexual thought in his head, as he was now. He felt a type of respect for Brianna that he had never realized was missing with other women he’d dated.

  He switched on the fireplace in the corner of the bedroom, kicked off his shoes, and settled into the recliner by the window. When he took in her beautiful face against his pillow and thought of how fiercely she protected her daughter, he wondered who was protecting her. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to be that person.

  Chapter Ten

  BRIANNA AWOKE TO her cell phone ringing. She rolled over and blinked away the fog of sleep. Something smelled delicious. She reached her arm straight up and tilted her head. Why does the ceiling look so far away? She wondered why her pillow felt insanely soft and why the room wasn’t cold, as it usually was in the mornings. She shifted her eyes to the right, taking in a wall of windows. Holy shit. She bolted upright in the strange bed and then looked under the sheets. Thank God. She scrambled from the bed fully dressed, found her boots, and quickly put them on as the prior evening came back piece by piece and assembled into the lovely evening that she’d had with Hugh—the evening that never ended. Crap.

  She saw her purse on a cherry nightstand, and beyond that, a large dresser with a family photo, Hugh’s cologne, and a stack of books. She picked up the photo and scanned the incredibly gorgeous faces of the people who could only be his brothers, sister, and father. The likeness was profound. All tall and dark—except for the girl, who had auburn hair and lighter eyes than the men—and stunningly handsome. They weren’t looking at the camera. They were looking at each other, laughing, as if the picture had been candid, not posed, and she wondered when people had time for such frivolity. A pang of jealousy speared her. Oh, how she longed for a little time to laugh like that. She’d had such a good time the evening before that she felt as if she’d had a taste of what it must be like to go out and enjoy an evening without real life pressing in on her. Brianna set the frame down. Time for real life.

  She grabbed her phone from her purse and went into the enormous master bathroom, locking the door behind her. She stared at herself in the mirror. What am I doing? She washed her face, used some of Hugh’s toothpaste on her finger, and brushed her teeth as best she could, then leaned against the counter, arms crossed, heart racing. Who goes from not dating to sleeping at a guy’s house? She cringed at the thought. She didn’t remember pulling up to the house. She had no idea where they even were. The last thing she remembered after the most intense, earth-shattering, knee-quaking kiss she’d ever experienced—a kiss so exquisite she couldn’t imagine ever kissing anyone else. As quickly as she allowed herself that one taste of sensuous joy, it had been stolen away. She could never be close to a man whose life revolved around heavy travel and a job that could take his life in an instant. She could never do that to Layla. And, Brianna realized, she could never put herself in a position to compete with the plethora of female groupies that came with such a job. Hugh had been a fantasy. She supposed she should consider herself lucky. How many women get to have a romantic evening with a gorgeous man, completely out of the blue like she did?

  She silenced her ringer and texted Kat. You up?

  Yes. How was your date?

  She texted as quickly as she could. I fell asleep. I’m at his house! Awkward!

  Her phone vibrated again, and she read Kat’s response. Fell asleep after sex? That’s okay.

  Brianna shook her head. No! Fully clothed. Alone. My car broke down, and I fell asleep on the way to his house.

  The phone vibrated again, this time with a call from Kat. She pushed the green button and held it up to her ear.

  “Oh my God. Tell me,” Kat said.

  Brianna whispered. “We had coffee; then my car wouldn’t start. He was going to lend me a car. Oh my God, Kat. Who has extra cars just lying around? Anyway, on the way here, I fell asleep. He must have carried me inside. I woke up in his bed. Alone and fully dressed. He lives in this amazing house, and it smells like he cooked a gourmet breakfast.” She took a deep breath, trying to keep from hyperventilating.

  “Slow down. First things first. How was the date?”

  “Kat! Did you hear me? I feel like a fool. The date was great. Better than great. But now I’ve got to take the walk of shame and I didn’t even do anything.” She looked in the mirror and ran her fingers through her hair. “Oh my God. I look awful, too, and you saw him. He’s gorgeous. And sweet. And so…so…Ugh! What am I doing?”

  “Bree, breathe, honey. Just breathe. You’re not taking the walk of shame. You’re not in college anymore. This is real life. Adult life. People have sex.”

  Hugh’s voice came back to her. Bree, sweetie, take a deep breath. Brianna stopped pacing and said, “I didn’t have sex.”

  “Okay. I know. People fall asleep. So what? If he’s as nice as you say, then he won’t care. Besides, if he did care, he would have woken you up and taken you home, right?” Kat spoke confidently and in a soothing tone.

  Brianna took a deep breath. “What should I do? I can’t hang out in the bathroom all day.”

  Kat laughed. “Bree, you’re a twenty-eight-year-old mother. You’ve handled worse situations than this. Enjoy the morning. Act like yourself. Pretend you’re in a hotel and you’re going out to the lobby. Natural, easy.”

  Natural. Easy. Brianna rolled her eyes. “I’m fucked. I shouldn’t have gone out with him. The more time we spent together, the more I liked him.”

  “That’s a good thing. Your mom always tells you that you need a life. Hell, I tell you that. You’re getting no sympathy from me, honey.”

  “Thanks, Kat. That really helps, you brat.” She sighed and flattened the wrinkles from her sweater. “Okay. I can do this.” She sat on the edge of the Jacuzzi bathtub, contemplating telling Kat exactly who Hugh really was, but she worried that it would lead to one of two things—a lengthy
discussion, which she definitely didn’t have time for, or possibly, Kat might see him differently, as he’d thought Brianna would. She tucked away the thought until she could tell her in person and weigh her response. “Tell me I can do this.”

  “Bree, you’ve got this, honey. No sweat.”

  “Thank you. If I show up at your house in need of tissues and chocolate, you’ll know why. And by the way, don’t ever convince me to go out with a guy again. Jesus, Kat. I fell asleep. I really do suck. I love ya. Thanks for not calling me a slut.”

  “Bree?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I am so looking forward to the time I can call you a slut. Please go have sex with that gorgeous creature!”

  “Goodbye, Kat.”

  She snagged her purse from the nightstand, and went in search of the kindest man she’d met in a very long time.

  The bedroom she’d slept in was bigger than her living room and kitchen combined. She followed the hardwood floor down a long hallway and into an enormous great room with a wall of French doors, a stone fireplace that crawled to the ceiling, two chocolate-colored couches that she was sure were like heaven to sit on, and a shiny glass coffee table. She’d never seen anything like Hugh’s house, except in magazines and on shows like Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. She quickly took her boots off again, worried about scuffing the floor.

  “Good morning, Bree.”

  Brianna spun around and nearly lost her footing. Hugh wore a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt that looked like it had been painted on. Every curve of his magnificent muscles were evident beneath the thin material, from his rippled six-pack to his massive biceps that threatened to burst through his sleeves. In the daylight, his face took on a softer, sexier look—which she wouldn’t have believed was possible.

  “Morning,” she said.

  He approached her, and she held her breath. Why am I so damn nervous? “I’m so sorry that I fell asleep last night.” She covered her face with her hands.