by C. R. Ellis
I knew who he was before he came to the bar and stopped next to me. It was hard not to know who he was when he’d been in and out of the apartment across from mine for the last couple months. It’s not like I was keeping tabs on Jasmine; my training as a cop made it impossible not to notice everything happening around me. I’d traded my shield with the NYPD for a much more laid back position at Cobalt Global, a multi-billion dollar, world-renowned private investigation and security firm. The new job came with a serious pay increase, fewer hours, and better benefits. I couldn’t shake my traditional cop training, though.
Jasmine and I had barely spoken since my return to Austin. Not that we spoke much before I came back. Our conversations consisted exclusively of the small talk variety, with the only exception being her unexpected trip to New York last year.
I’d spent more time than I cared to admit thinking about the bizarre nature of our…relationship. I could pinpoint the exact turning point on a timeline, but what I couldn’t pinpoint was the reason for it. Six years ago, Jasmine strolled off the plane in New York and struck me like a bolt of lightning. When Jade volunteered me to show Jasmine around the city, I had no idea I’d spend the next month falling for my sister’s best friend.
Jasmine’s date stood next to me, patiently waiting for the bartender to finish helping another guest. I made the impulsive decision to start a conversation with him, justifying the urge because I figured I’d need to know about the guy that would potentially live across the hall if he and Jas got serious.
Sure, Dean. Keep telling yourself that.
“You must be Paul. I’m Dean, Jade’s brother,” I announced, shifting my beer to my left hand and sticking out my right hand to shake his.
He glanced over at me, nodding and sizing me up. “Oh, right. Nice to meet you, man; I’ve heard a lot about you. Just moved back from New York, right?”
I had to remind myself he meant Jade’s told him a lot about me. Not Jasmine. There was a greater chance of a blizzard hitting Austin in August than Jas telling her boyfriend about us.
“Yeah, I moved back about five months ago. What about you? Lived here long?” I found myself inexplicably curious about Jasmine’s boyfriend. She’d probably be less than thrilled to see me talking to him, but she chose to bring him to the party, so I took that as an invitation to talk to him.
“I came to Austin for college ten years ago and never left,” he said, just as the bartender shuffled over to where we were standing.
“What’ll it be?” he asked, looking at Paul.
“I’ll have two 7 and 7s if you’ve got Seagram’s.”
Jasmine’s drink of choice. I resisted the urge to turn and look for her, knowing she was off somewhere waiting for her date to reappear with their drinks. The bartender nodded and got started on the order.
“So what kept you in Austin?” I asked, letting my curiosity take the reins.
“I stuck around after undergrad and suffered through law school. Then I got a job offer, so I took it and haven’t looked back. Jade said you used to be a detective? That’s impressive; I bet you’ve got some crazy stories.”
We kept talking even after the bartender set both drinks down in front of Paul. Our conversation eventually shifted to Jas, and oddly enough, I had no problem talking about her, telling Paul what she was like as a kid, asking how they’d met.
He turned to stuff a bill into the tip jar, and I took the opportunity to look toward the tables and scan the guests.
Paul turned back around, and I started walking with him in the direction of the table where Jas was waiting. I nodded at whatever he was saying, but didn’t reply. I was too busy locking eyes with the woman who once pushed, shoved, and scratched her way past my walls. Only, the look in her eyes now was the polar opposite of the look she used to give me.
She looked pissed. Royally fucking pissed, in fact.
A brief smile ghosted across my lips. It caught me off guard that I took pleasure in seeing her less than thrilled I’d struck up a conversation with her boyfriend. I found myself appreciating her struggle to keep her cool. After years of being deeply buried, my Jasmine-fueled-frustration clawed its way to the surface.
Her expression told me she was pissed right now, but I had some serious built-up frustration over Jasmine. Years ago, I’d almost convinced myself that she had saved us both by cutting me out of her life. A small part of me refused to believe it though, and remained pissed off at her. Or at myself. Sometimes the lines blurred and I wasn’t sure if I was more pissed at her for wrecking through my walls or at myself for carelessly thinking I could let her in.
Chapter 3
Jasmine
Excuse me while I go find the eyeballs that just flew from their sockets.
Jasmine Winters, weighing the pros and cons of murdering her best friend’s brother
Dean fucking Preston.
I could not believe the scene unfolding in front of me. As soon as Dean uttered a word to Paul, my blood ran cold. Or boiled. It was hard to tell which. I was under the impression we had a mutual understanding that we’d maintain an aloof indifference toward each other. Indifference that didn’t involve talking to each other’s dates. Had he brought a date tonight, he sure as shit wouldn’t find me striking up a conversation with her. Silently judging her from afar? Probably. Chatting her up like we were BFFs? Hell no.
Apparently he missed the memo. I couldn’t allow the man I used to imagine naked detested didn’t care about thought of as nothing more than my best friend’s brother to talk to the man I was currently dating. At least not without ensuring that embarrassing stories of my childhood were the extent of what Dean divulged about me.
I narrowed my eyes at Dean until I could barely see out of the slits they became. He shot me a glare that rivaled my own. To my horror, Dean continued talking as Paul picked up our drinks and walked back toward me. I was halfway tempted to go find Jade and Emmett to escape the impending awkwardness, but I wasn’t going to give Dean the satisfaction. If he wanted to push my buttons, I wasn’t going to sit back and take it like a bitch.
Two could play this game.
I squared my shoulders, smoothed my mint-colored mini skirt, sucked in a breath, and silently hoped to God I could handle this situation without committing a felony.
Oh, come on. You’re Jasmine Winters. You eat men like Dean for breakfast without batting a perfectly mascaraed eyelash.
I planned to hold Dean’s heated look until he faltered, but I choked and dropped my gaze to the drink Paul handed me. Damn it, Dean. I forced a small smile in Paul’s direction and brought the glass to my lips to stifle the Dean-directed barbs waiting on my tongue.
“Jas, you didn’t tell me you lived at Jade’s house for a while growing up,” Paul commented nonchalantly.
My heart rate spiked. I scoured my brain for possible embarrassing stories Dean had told about me, but the pool of choices was too vast for me to narrow down quickly. Dean’s eyes held an annoyingly smug gleam, like he enjoyed watching me almost squirm. I smiled sweetly while mentally making a note to buy a voodoo doll in his image so I could poke needles in strategic places.
“Yeah, I spent more time there than at my own house after…” I paused, not wanting to finish that morose thought. Better not to scare Paul away with complete honesty in this case. “My dad moved overseas for business.”
Paul nodded. If he wanted more information, he apparently knew now wasn’t the time to ask.
Dean’s expression sobered, and I suspected he had the same thought I did: After my mom died and I went completely wild. Silence fell between us, stretching a little too long, and I searched for any possible topic safe enough to venture into.
Nope, I had nothing.
Nada. Zilch. Zero.
We all stood there like a bunch of awkward loons. I studied my drink like my life depended on it. Paul looked like he regretted his decision to talk to Dean. And Dean…well, he stood there brooding like the intimidating, giant, maddening, out-of-control-
sexy-beast he’d always been. Damn it. I instantly gave myself a mental face-palm.
Paul shifted uncomfortably. I was seconds from throwing back the rest of my drink in one gulp when a phone started ringing. Paul couldn’t get his phone out of his pocket fast enough.
He checked the caller ID and immediately set his drink down. “Sorry, Jas, I’ve gotta take this.”
I was sure it could’ve been a telemarketer calling from India and he’d gladly have taken the call. Oh sure, bring Dean over to where I am and then bail. I couldn’t blame him for being unaware of my aversion to being around Dean, but it still annoyed me. Before I could utter a useless protest, Paul left, leaving me alone with the only man that could discombobulate my thoughts, even after all this time.
It’s only because I have a physiological reaction to him.
I took the five or so steps that separated my table from the terrace, unsure if Dean would follow.
Memories sprang to mind of the times I’d tagged along with the Preston family for a day out on this very lake. I was nine the first time I went with them. I’d never been on a boat and was terrified at the prospect of getting on the inner tube. “Don’t worry, even if you fall off, the ride’s worth it,” Dean had assured me. He was 13, and I pretty much thought he knew everything there was to know in life. “Come on, I’ll ride with you. I won’t let you fall,” he had promised.
It was on that afternoon that my silly crush grew into an all-consuming infatuation. Dean was an enigma that both mesmerized and overwhelmed me. He was a pleasant contradiction; one minute he rolled his eyes at the thought of having to spend the day with his little sister and her friend, and the next he showed more kindness and sincerity than I thought him capable of possessing. In hindsight, I should’ve seen that as an indication of how things were destined to be between us—so hot it’s like I’m inches from the sun one minute, the next I’m living with the penguins in Antarctica. I immediately banished ancient images of teenage Dean, wincing at the recollection of how crazy I’d been about him even back then.
April is hit and miss weather-wise in Austin, but tonight we were lucky; the temperature was a perfect seventy-five degrees. It annoyed me that the dark shade of the water below matched Dean’s suit perfectly. Then it annoyed me that I could recall the exact shade of Dean’s suit.
I tried to put my finger on the emotion coursing through me, and it felt suspiciously like anger. Anger almost entirely directed at Dean. I either needed a little privacy to release it freely or some space to draw in deep breaths and get a grip on it. Dean being Dean meant he had to follow me outside.
Because clearly the man has a death wish.
I wasn’t entirely sure where the hell my anger came from. Dean hadn’t held any power over my emotions in years. Why did the fact that he was talking to Paul even matter? It shouldn’t, and yet, it did.
I wasn’t exactly thrilled when he followed me, but when I snuck a glance at him, I noticed his annoyingly chiseled jawline was taut, and his broodiness had bloomed into full-out annoyance.
“You brought it on yourself, you know,” I said, finally looking at him head-on. “If you crack a tooth from clenching your jaw so tightly.” My eyes flitted down to his mouth. Dean’s dark brows furrowed even deeper, but the smallest tug at the side of his mouth gave away a tiny hint of amusement. So slight I almost didn’t catch it.
His stupid dimples and those soft, perfect lips summoned the memory of our kiss from that summer. The way our eyes had met. The way he’d gently tugged at my lip with his Crest-approved pearly whites. The way just the feeling of his lips on mine had sent a thousand volts of electricity through my body.
Shit. Nothing good can come of stirring up old, meaningless memories. I shook my head, as if the physical action would carry over to shaking the once-buried memory of that night.
“You shouldn’t have brought him to the party if you didn’t want him to mingle with other people,” he said, his resolute voice confirming his frustration.
I whipped my head around to meet his eyes. “I don’t mind if he mingles with other people,” I said, aiming for a tone of detachment. As long as ‘other people’ doesn’t include you. “I just don’t understand why you want to talk to the guy I’m dating, of all the people here. Why is that, Dean?”
If looks could kill, the one I shot his way would’ve incinerated him on the spot.
He didn’t crack under my death-stare. If anything, he gave me an equally heated look. “The better question is why are you so upset about me talking to him? It’s not like he’ll be around long enough for things to get serious, anyway. I know your M.O.”
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I practically shouted, drawing some unwanted attention from nearby guests. Dean placed a hand on my bicep to push me toward privacy. “Our conversations don’t evolve past small talk, what the fuck makes you an expert on how I am with relationships?” I hissed, ripping away from his grip.
Dean gave me a blank stare. “Two things. First—the fact that I know you, whether you like it or not. Time doesn’t change that fact, Jasmine. Second—the fact that I live across the hall from you.”
“You think living across the hall from me makes you an expert? Give me a break, Dean. You might have known me once upon a time, but don’t disillusion yourself into thinking that you know anything about me now.”
I wanted to slap away the unnerving smile that crept across his face. “That so? Because your reaction says otherwise. Tell me, are you getting defensive because I don’t know anything about you, or because you know I’m right?” he asked.
A slew of colorful words and phrases of denial died on my tongue when a voice in the back of my head whispered he’s not wrong. No way. He was just observant, and now he was making assumptions that he had no right to make.
My body drummed with tension while he seemed as cool as a fucking cucumber, like this conversation didn’t faze him at all. He leaned his massive body back against the railing, resting his forearms against the top and locking his eyes on the depths of the lake.
“You know…I think I liked it better when we lived our lives separately, in completely different states. When you weren’t here to remind me what an arrogant, condescending asshole you are,” I said.
My eyes involuntarily slid his direction when I sensed him go rigid. Now he was the one trying to rein in his anger.
“You think I’ve enjoyed seeing God-knows-how-fucking-many men leaving your apartment in the early morning hours? Believe me, I definitely prefer living across the hall from someone who doesn’t parade half the male population of the city through their door.”
I physically stopped my jaw from dropping. He might as well have just come out and called me a slut. There couldn’t have been that many men. Anger and humiliation burst to life within me. I refused to let the feelings and emotions battling their way to the surface win. I couldn’t afford to feel anything toward Dean anymore.
I tilted my head up to meet his gaze and gave him a look that had stricken fear into more men than I could count. “Guess what, Dean? Nobody fucking forced you to live right across the hall from me! Sorry to shatter your illusion of my celibacy,” I barked, my voice rising higher. I forced it back down when a couple twelve feet away turned toward us. “Just because there are men in this state that don’t think it’s a mistake to kiss me or a mistake to have anything to do with me does not mean I should or will apologize for it,” I finished, my voice deceptively low, yet still laced with the anger that radiated from every cell in my body.
Before he could form a retort, I pushed off from the railing, turned, and, for the second time in recent memory, fled from the man who infuriated me like no other.
Chapter 4
Dean
If looks could kill, I’d be a dead man walking.
Dean Preston, bracing for impact
Mistake. I lifted my gaze to watch Jasmine walk away. She hissed the word like it was poison in her mouth. In the wake she left behind, I wondered how
it was possible I simultaneously wanted to curse her and pull her into my arms to kiss the breath out of her. At least we had that in common. The looks she cast my way made it clear that she didn’t know whether to rip off my head or my clothes.
Right now, she had clearly decided on the former.
I knew I’d gone too far, but I couldn’t bring myself to regret my hurtful words. Seeing men traipsing in and out of Jasmine’s apartment bothered me more than I’d realized until I called her out on it.
She was wrong though; when I came back to town, I never expected I’d find her living as some sort of celibate spinster. Between her outrageous good looks and her fiery personality, I knew Jasmine would always have a string of men trailing behind her, hoping for a chance with her.
The sight of her tossing her golden hair over her shoulder as she laughed at something her boyfriend said or moving effortlessly through the crowd like she owned the place was enough to stir something inside of me that I hadn’t felt in a long time. The feeling caught in the pit of my stomach and took up residence there.
The distance she put between us did nothing to tame my frustration. Jasmine headed for the bathroom, and while I watched her go, I noticed my sister looking back and forth between us. She appeared torn between wanting to follow Jas and wanting to come interrogate me. Reluctantly, she turned to catch up with Jasmine after shooting me a glare.
God, I am definitely the world’s biggest dick for celebrating the fact I wasn’t the one that had to answer to Jade.
My relief was short-lived when my phone rang a few minutes later and my ex-girlfriend’s name flashed across the screen. We’d broken up before I moved back to Texas last fall, but unforeseen circumstances forced me to keep in touch with her.
“Natasha, what is it?” I asked into the mouthpiece after swiping to answer her call. “I’m at my sister’s engagement party.”