And she was perfectly content that way.
It was refreshing. Reassuring to a guy who’d been burned a time or two by women more interested in the size of his portfolio than anything else he might have to offer, and yet Ford wanted to do more for her. He wanted to take her out and buy her a few things to fill some of the empty spaces around her place. He wanted to spoil her with extravagant dinners—only Brynn wouldn’t even let him take her out for a divey breakfast.
She said it was because she had to eat out so much for work. And when she wasn’t working, she just liked being at home. A part of him doubted that was the full story, and suspected it had more to do with her idea of what this “casual thing” they were now a week and a half into ought to look like. Though how hitting a restaurant equated to scary relationship strings, he didn’t totally get. But whatever; he’d happily eat microwave burritos for the rest of his days if it meant spending every night Brynn was in town in her bed. Besides, things were going so great with them, he was confident Brynn would come around on the real relationship thing soon enough.
“I’ve got six hours before I need to leave for the airport,” she said, propping her pillow behind her and then snuggling in. “Want to lie around and watch TV all morning?”
“Can’t,” Ford answered, talking around the bite he’d just popped in his mouth. “Ava and Sam are making pizzas in this new oven Sam bought off the TV and I told Ava I’d take her shopping for supplies. So as much as I’d love to laze around in bed for a Supernatural marathon all morning, I’m starting to get the side-eye from everyone because of how many times I’ve bailed out of plans in the last couple of weeks.”
Brynn nodded her understanding, stealing the fork for the next bite. “Sounds fun. I’ve seen those ovens. Do they really work?”
Ford looked at her, chewing contentedly. She wasn’t fishing for an invite.
He shouldn’t do it. He knew he shouldn’t, but the part of him that wanted Brynn to be his somehow got ahead of the part that wanted to give her all the time she needed. “Come with me and find out.”
The woman who’d been tucked so snugly into his side stiffened beside him. She swallowed loud enough for him to hear—or maybe it was just that his every sense had heightened in anticipation of an answer that shouldn’t mean what it did to him.
The answer that was there in the shadowed eyes that met his.
Fuck.
—
Back and shoulders screaming their typical postgame protest, Brynn slid her key card past the sensor and sent up a silent prayer for the little green light that meant she was only a handful of steps away from collapsing atop the mauve-and-taupe atrocity covering her bed instead of being in for another trip down to the front desk.
Normally after a good game, especially like the one they’d just shot, no matter how worn out her body was from setup and teardown, and shouldering thirty pounds of camera for the game, she’d be too wired to crash, and going out with the guys would be her go-to plan of action. But tonight she wasn’t up for the company. First, because the guys were still in a tizzy over her breakup with Fred, and fending off all their well-intentioned inquiries and assurances she’d done the right thing would just make her feel crummy about the lies she’d told the people who cared about her. And second, she wanted to talk to Ford. Make sure they were still good after yesterday. After the goodbye that had felt strained to her.
He’d said meeting his friends wasn’t a big deal. It wouldn’t mean they were suddenly going steady; he’d just thought she might like to meet some more people in the neighborhood. No big deal.
Only it hadn’t felt like no big deal to her.
She’d wanted to say “yes.” And so the saying “no” had come out fumbling and awkward, with a lot of sorry excuse-making. Ford had seemed fine, his attitude totally relaxed, but she hadn’t felt fine about it. And now she just wanted to know she didn’t have anything to worry about. That they were good.
Because she wasn’t ready to give this “fling” up. Not yet.
So tonight all she wanted was to eat her Big Mac and fries. Take a shower and then talk to the guy who made everything better. She wanted to hear the confidence and easy smile behind that deep, rumbling voice of his and just wrap herself up in it. Take comfort in knowing Ford wasn’t worried about what was going to happen. He wasn’t worried about the future. He was just having a good time, and so, so could she.
It wasn’t going to last forever. She already knew that. But while it did—God, it felt good.
Setting down her drive-thru bag on the desk across from her bed, she stuffed a couple of fries in her mouth and thumbed her phone to life. Maybe she’d call him before the shower.
She’d barely pulled up the contacts when her phone lit up.
And there it was—that wave of rightness washing over her as she answered, “Hey, I was just about to call.”
“Yeah? Must have the psychic hotline going on, then. And before you ask, yeah, that’s what my sister calls it.”
She grinned. “How’s Ava doing? Was the pizza good?”
“Way too good. I think I ate an entire pie, as Tyler calls it, myself.” There was some rustling in the background and Ford’s voice tightened and then relaxed, making her wonder if he’d stretched out on the couch or maybe in bed. “But I’m pretty sure Ava packed in twice what I had. When I got home, I found her crashed out on my couch hiding with a hot pad on her stomach.”
She laughed, having trouble imagining someone so little eating twice what Ford could. “Your place?”
“Yeah, well, Sam had invited all the guys who work for him over. She’s got a key for emergencies, but she’s pretty free about using it.”
Okay, and good to know. “So what you’re saying is, we’ll be spending all of our dates at my place?”
Because having firsthand experience with all Ford was capable of, his seeming indifference to location, and his incredibly short rebound time…the odds of little sis walking in on them at his place weren’t on Brynn’s side.
Ford laughed again and that deep rumble seemed to settle right in the center of her chest. “I’ve got a security chain. And believe me, Ava would rather dip her eyes in a bleach bath than see me hook up again.”
“Again?” she choked, torn between glee and jealousy. Because if it wasn’t her getting busted with him, the idea of Ford getting caught was pretty funny.
“Nothing spectacular, believe me. It was this one date I took Maggie on back before she and Tyler figured out they didn’t hate each other. She and Ava had made this asinine pact about going on a date a month and—anyway, I ended up getting screwed into taking her out. The deal was we had to kiss at the end of the date, and Ava and Sam set up shop to watch the security feed of the front stoop. It wasn’t pretty.”
“Are all of you completely nuts? Because every time I think I’ve heard where the crazy stops, you’ve got another story.”
“Pretty much every one of us,” he said, and she could hear the grin in his words. “We can’t all be as perfect as your family.”
Brynn shook her head, hating the wall of lies she’d built between them. “I may have overstated the extremes of their perfection. They have flaws.”
Her heart was racing. Because as scanty and vague as that qualification was, it was the closest she’d ever come to giving Ford the truth.
“Everyone does, Brynn.”
She waited for him to push for more, but when he asked her about the game, she let go of the breath she’d been holding and settled into the low wingback by the window. The second-story view of the parking lot wasn’t much to brag about, but when she looked up to the night sky she could almost pretend she was just down the street from Ford instead of all the way in Detroit.
She told him about Joe, the producer who’d taken her and Jet under his wing when they’d been working for the Brewers. How he’d brought them down from Milwaukee with him six years ago, and now he was taking a job with the Celtics. How she’d miss the guy, but there was
no chance of her accepting his invitation to go along. A decision Ford heartily supported, surprise, surprise.
Ford told her about an idea he was working on for a new game, and then made her laugh until she cried detailing Tony’s deep depression when he realized Ava had finally made something called “sister status” and Maggie’s horrified dismay when she assured him he could still covet her from afar—only to learn she’d been cut from his lust list the afternoon before when her nursing bra pad had slipped and milk started leaking down her blouse like a waterfall.
They talked about an editorial piece he’d read that morning, and why women were so nuts for Adam Levine. They talked and talked and talked, until Brynn would have given just about anything to be able to fall asleep in his arms that night. Until she ached for the smell of him beside her. Until all she could think was that she only needed to get through another half day before he’d be lifting her off her toes to kiss her, and everything in the world would be right again.
—
There were times when having a confidant like Jet—a guy who knew where she came from and understood her life more than anyone else could—meant the world to Brynn, and then there were times like this.
“You’re an idiot.”
Brynn blew out a long breath and scanned the arena, empty but for the production crews and United Center employees working in preparation for the game. “No, no. Don’t sugarcoat it on my account.”
“Okay, you’re a fucking idiot. Hey, grab those cans for me, will you?” he asked.
She handed over the single-ear headset and waited until he’d gotten it adjusted over his ashy blond mop. “Why? I haven’t heard word one from Danny since he got out. And if I do, Ford and I agreed, what we’ve got going on isn’t anything serious. It’s just—”
“Yeah, fun. I heard you the first time. And babe, I’m not doubting the fun part. You’ve got a new way about you. A—I don’t know.” His mouth pulled to the side as he searched for the words. Apparently giving up, he waved a hand around in front of her face and then made a sort of hourglass motion with his hands, which she figured had something to do with her body. “Whatever it is, it’s pretty much screaming that you’ve been mainlining the fun. What I’m wondering is how such a smart chick thinks there’s even a chance what you are doing isn’t serious. Take a look in the mirror, Brynn. You’ve got ‘serious’ written all over you.”
Her arms crossed defensively. “But he doesn’t.”
A snort. Jet knelt down to connect the cables that ran from his camera back to the production truck. “And that’s a good thing?”
When she didn’t answer, he straightened. “Jesus. You actually think it is.”
Another guy running cable walked by and Brynn stepped in closer to the oldest friend she had. The one who knew more of her secrets than anyone else.
“Yes. I definitely think it is,” she said, her voice low. “You know what my life has been like. More than anyone else, you have to be able to understand why I’d be willing to take a hurt when this ends, so long as Ford can walk away unscathed when we’re done. And until then, I get to have…something I’ve missed for ten years. Is that really so bad?”
“Brynn, you deserve the joy. The fun. You deserve it all.” Jet hefted his camera and looked her in the eye. “But I think you’re kidding yourself about this working out as neat as you hope. You say this Ford isn’t serious, but how do you think you’re going to stop him from getting there?”
“Because we agreed,” she stressed. “And he’s got more experience than I do when it comes to keeping things casual, so…”
Jet shot her an apologetic look that had her belly hollowing out. “Then he’s definitely going to know casual isn’t what’s happening here. How can you think, if he is seeing what I’m seeing, he won’t take that as an invitation to let his heart off the leash? And shit, Brynn, how can you think you’re going to be able to walk away from this guy again and have it be anything but crippling? You let this go on, and I’m telling you, the end is going to be bad. Epically.”
Her heart had started to race, a sick feeling moving through her stomach. “But what if Danny doesn’t call? What if jail was enough to straighten him out?”
There was pity in the eyes that met hers. Pity and disappointment.
“You mean, what if this time he really is sorry? What if this time he’s going to be better? What if this time he can keep his promises not to hit again?” Jet was talking about his own father now. But the parallels were easy enough to draw and always had been. “He’s not going to stop, Brynn. Jail can’t fix what’s wrong with your old man. I’m sorry, but it doesn’t work that way.”
No. She knew better than to believe it did.
But the fact that she’d been the one to send him there? Maybe that was enough to keep him out of her life.
—
Rumbling down the Blue Line, Ford stood with legs braced apart, counting down the stops until they hit Damen. He was going to see Brynn tonight. It had only been two days—but goddamn, he missed her. They’d talked on the phone four times, twice late into the night. Twice short and sweet, just a brief call to share a joke and say hello. But after ten years without her in his arms, his bed, his life…talking wasn’t enough. Going two days without her was two days too long.
Rationally, he knew it was nuts. That it was too soon for the kind of ache in his chest he was experiencing without her. But it was there, and he couldn’t wait to get rid of it. Like he couldn’t wait for all the real relationship stuff to start. He wanted to meet her parents and her brother. He wanted to drive up to Milwaukee with her and see all the places she’d loved growing up. He wanted her to hang out with his friends and hold Penelope so he could see that soft-eyed look she always got when she was flipping through the photos on his phone amplified by Little Miss P’s precious body actually there in her arms.
Unfortunately, he had another two hours before Brynn would be back and it was too late to kill any more time with Mitch and Tony, who both had work the next morning. Which left him wondering how exactly he was going to make it without losing his freaking mind.
“So who’s the girl?”
Ford frowned down at Mitch, kicked back in the seat, his hands folded over his stomach. Sometimes the guy looked so much like his older brother, Tyler, it was freaky. “Which girl?”
Mitch met him with one of those pointed looks. “Your girl.”
Stretching his freckled, meaty arms behind him, Tony shook his head. “Ford hasn’t got a girl.”
And Tony saves the day.
One corner of Mitch’s mouth curved up as the other pulled down. “Sure he does. I’ve seen him coming home in the clothes he left in the night before about half a dozen times in the last two weeks.”
Or not. Shit.
Tony leaned forward. “Dude?”
“What, are you staked out at the window twenty-four-seven?” Ford asked, wondering if maybe he should have asked a few more questions before transferring Tyler’s Apartment Three lease to Mitch.
“Some nights I don’t sleep so great. I like the window.” Mitch steepled his fingers and pointed them at Ford. “You’re not a player picking up a different chick at every bar we hit, so who’s hosting all the sleepovers?”
Ford was about to brush him off. Dodge answering and ignore the push for info. Only then he was thinking about the way Brynn had said goodbye to him before she left. She’d been looking at him like she was going to be gone for two months instead of two days. Like she couldn’t get enough of his last kiss. And when she’d blinked too fast and turned away, he’d been almost certain there was a sheen of tears in her eyes.
He wasn’t wrong. It was happening, and the walls he’d been running into every time he pushed to get just a little too close were finally coming down. He knew that any day now—hell, maybe in a matter of hours—she was going to admit what was really between them.
He met Mitch’s eyes. “Brynn Ahearne.”
Chapter 13
Jet
had been right.
She was in over her head. Had been in over her head, probably from that first drink at the Pint Pub. But she hadn’t wanted to see. And even with Jet pointing out the obvious the week before, she’d refused to believe.
Because she’d wanted more. She’d wanted the dizzying crush of her shoulders hitting the wall opposite the front door when Ford first saw her after she’d been gone for back-to-back games out of town. She’d wanted the sleepy mornings with his arms wrapped tightly around her. She’d wanted to see that look in his eyes as he pushed inside her, the one that made her feel like everything.
But one word from the man on the other end of the line, and now she knew.
It was over. And thanks to him, she would be left with nothing.
She sat, balancing on the edge of her favorite chair, but finding no comfort there at all.
“Dad,” she answered, dread coating her skin like an oily residue. “How did you get this number?”
The laugh that sounded through the line was a weary one. And yet still somehow laced with the charm and charisma that had been luring everyone who knew better back in for as long as she could remember.
“Your brother gave it to me.”
Of course he had. Her mom sure didn’t have it. She was too deep in the dysfunction she called love to be relied on to do anything but give in to her husband’s requests. No matter what he did, how he betrayed her, endangered her, or hurt her, all it took was one of his seemingly heartfelt apologies and she was ready to line up for more of whatever he was offering that month—smooth lines, practiced lies, threadbare explanations, and promises he’d never keep. It broke Brynn’s heart not to be able to give her own mother her phone number or address, but that’s what it had come to. She still drove up at least once a month. And she called each week, but the number was blocked and no matter how her mother promised she wouldn’t tell Brynn’s father where she was, Brynn knew from experience it was a promise her mom couldn’t keep. She couldn’t bear to put either one of them in the position to be let down like that again.
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