“Damn it!” she yelped, trying to roll off of me, but only succeeding in driving her elbow into my side.
I pushed her off and into the bushes underneath the window.
“Be quiet,” I hissed, getting on my hands and knees. Jason had to have heard us fall down. If he didn’t at least hear the cracking of the trellis, he must have caught Claire’s cursing.
Claire sat up and rubbed her shoulder. Half of her face was bathed in light from the back porch and the other half was in darkness. “What?”
I pointed at the window above us, but she only looked at me in confusion. I craned my ear, listening, and then peeked up at what little bit of the window I could see. The corner of the tacky countryside painting that had hung in that room for years was visible, but that was all.
“Come on,” I whispered, getting up into a crouching position.
“I hurt my shoulder,” she complained, sticking her bottom lip out.
“Is it dislocated?”
“No.”
“Is it broken?”
“No.”
“Well, then it can wait. Let’s go.”
I edged over to the scraggly bushes, pushing myself between them so I could get in the spot between the plants and the wall. Claire stood up, right in front of the guest bedroom window, and began brushing the dirt off her jacket. I bit my lip and groaned.
She looked up and into the window, freezing. “Oh,” she said, then feebly waved at the window.
“He probably thinks we were spying on him,” I fiercely whispered.
Her eyes went wide. “Sorry!” she shouted to Jason before hopping out of his sight.
I grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the back door. “Maybe he didn’t see me.”
“Oh, thanks,” she replied, sarcasm dripping like venom. “So you’re going to let me take all the blame?”
“Sorry.” I pushed the back door open and hurried into the hallway. The guest bedroom door opened and Jason walked out.
He wore a shirt. That was the first thing I noticed. I froze, my feet planted to the floor.
We should have gone in the front door.
Quickly, I looked at Claire.
“Gosh, it’s late,” she said. “Goodnight!”
Practically running, she took off and ran up the stairs.
“Claire!” I yelled at her, not caring if Jason saw me lose my cool or not. Not even looking at me, she waved as she disappeared up the steps.
“Sh-she’s right,” I mumbled. “I should go.”
Unable to fully turn my face towards him, I peeked at him from the corner of my eye. He wore the same amused smile I’d already seen on him several times before. At the sight of it, my stomach twisted, the sensation painful and delectable at the same time.
“Did you want to come in?” he asked.
My eyes nearly bugged out of my face. “Excuse me? Come into where?”
“The room in which you were staring.”
My mouth tried to form words, opening and closing several times.
He laughed. “Were you two spying on me?”
“No!” I shrieked, planting my fists on my hips. “God. You’re awfully full of yourself. We were climbing down from the rooftop.”
His dimple popped and I wanted to lick it. “So you could look in through my window.”
I stamped my foot. “Do you even hear yourself right now? I just told you we weren’t trying to get a look at you.”
My face burned, along with every other bit of my body. Although I hadn’t been making any effort to “get a look” at him, now that I’d accidentally been the recipient of a peek, I wanted more. God help me, I wanted to see what he looked like without a shirt or pants on.
“I need to go,” I spat.
Before he could respond, I spun and headed for the door, snatching my purse from the coat rack as I went and trying desperately to ignore my body’s pained cries for me to stay.
CHAPTER FOUR
Jason
The door slammed behind Gwen, leaving a ringing in her absence. I stayed planted in my spot, waiting for her to return. The lust had practically been seeping out of her pores. She wanted me just as much as I wanted her — maybe even more. It was only a matter of seconds before she realized what a mistake she was making and turned right back around to catapult herself into my arms.
When I heard the car peel out of the driveway I realized she really wasn’t coming back.
I licked my lips and still stood there, more out of confusion than anything else.
What was wrong with the woman? Supposing she and Claire weren’t really trying to look in my window, which I know they likely weren’t since Claire wasn’t stupid enough to risk our working relationship just to get a peek at me. But hell, even if she was fully innocent of being a Peeping Tom, the attraction between me and Gwen was still undeniable, and there was no real reason to ignore it.
If we both wanted the same thing, why not go ahead and grab it?
Shaking my head, I went back into the guest room. If I had been at home, continuing to pursue her might have been more work than it was worth. There were thousands of young, single women in New York, and chasing after one for a prolonged period of time was wasteful. Being on vacation granted me more than enough spare time, though, which made getting Gwen in my bed worth one more shot.
She would be more than worth it, I knew it. Beneath that cold demeanor there was a volcano’s worth of fire. From the looks of it, she currently channeled all that extra energy into work. When it did seep out during her off-hours, it took the form of a severely caustic attitude.
My cell phone rang unexpectedly. I walked over to the bedside table, thinking there was the slight chance it could be Gwen. After all, Claire could have given her my number. She could be calling to invite me over to her place to “talk things out.”
Nope. It was Miles.
Hitting answer, I put the phone on speaker and then collapsed on the bed. I looked over at the bottle of lotion, then shook my head.
“Speak,” I commanded.
“That’s no way to talk to your lawyer,” came the garbled voice.
“That’s how I talk to all my friends though,” I joked. “Especially my oldest one.”
“I wish this was a friendly phone call.”
My chest constricted and I sat up straight. Uh-oh.
“What is it?” I asked.
He sighed. “It’s Jess. Of course.”
“What does she want?”
“She’s not happy with the terms we set last week.”
I fell back on the bed. “She’s never happy anymore.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
Reflexively, my hands curled into fists. My fingernails dug into my palms, sending sharp pain shooting up my arms. It was good, though. It distracted me from the pain flooding my heart.
“What does she want?” I asked.
“She wants half of your shareholdings.”
“Fine.”
A short silence followed. “Wait,” Miles finally said. “What?”
“Let her have them.”
“Jason, you know that’s stupid.”
I ran my fingers through my hair. I was tired of trying to figure out what was and wasn’t stupid. This whole divorce was stretching on so much longer than it needed to, and it already felt like I’d spent decades of my life trying to figure out what I did wrong or what I should have done better.
Everyone told me, again and again, that I should have gotten an annulment. I wasn’t so sure I felt that way. Some days I hated Jess. Some days I blamed her. Every day, though, I felt like I owed her.
It wasn’t like I’d done anything wrong in particular. Four years of a happy marriage and it was what it was. Neither one of us had cheated — at least not that I knew of. No betrayals had occurred. We’d just changed.
Or that’s what she said on the day she announced she no longer wanted me to be her happily ever after. According to her, we were different people in different plac
es in our lives. We “wanted different things.”
I guess, really, she’s the one who changed. It was her who wanted these different things.
I didn’t understand any of it. I felt like we were on the same track, headed for the end of the line together. I’d felt that way since the first day I met her. So what had been the catalyst for our happy little world getting turned upside down?
Jess’ story was that it was her. She wanted to go and “see more of the world” and she wanted to do it alone. She had been wrong thinking she was prepared for marriage.
Of course, it would have been grand if she’d figured that out before our five hundred-thousand-dollar wedding in Hawaii, before I’d bought the house in upstate New York, before I’d picked out the names of our future children, before I’d gotten set on the romantic idea of there being one person out there for everyone.
“Jason?” Miles asked, pulling me out of my pity party. “You can’t just give it to her.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’ve worked your ass off for what you have. You’re a self-made success.”
“And she’s my wife. All of your words about working for something and deserving things don’t mean anything. I made a promise to share what I have with her for the rest of my life.”
“Correction. She’s your ex-wife. And that promise is now null because she wanted it to be null.”
“Right,” I added, embarrassed at the blunder. “Ex-wife. That’s what I meant.” I picked up the phone and held it closer to me. “If she wants that fifty percent, she can have it.”
“You’re not obligated to her.”
I wanted to tell him that I knew that, but it would be a lie. Miles and I knew each other from way, way back. Our families both vacationed on Long Island when we were teenagers, and we’d started a yearly habit of raising hell with the other boys on our street, starting promptly at age thirteen. Many nights I’d slept at Miles’ house. My parents never cared where I was or what I was doing. Sometimes I wondered if they even cared whether or not I was alive. Miles and his parents became my second family, and then, as I grew further and further apart from my parents, they became my only family.
Until Jess.
I closed my eyes, seeing if I could somehow get lost in the darkness. Maybe I could float away into it, like a boat lost at sea. Everyone would forget all about me. I would float and float and there would come a time where it no longer even mattered whether or not I existed. I would be forgotten, and, more importantly, I would be able to forget. I would forget about the life that used to be mine.
Miles cleared his throat. “Let’s talk about this when you get back.”
“All right,” I conceded, deciding to humor him. I was pretty sure a few days wasn’t going to make me change my mind.
“How’s South Carolina?”
“North.”
“Right. How is it?”
“Better than I thought it would be.”
“That’s great. I’m sorry again about—”
“Don’t,” I interrupted him. “It’s fine.”
Until Jess, my holidays had almost exclusively been spent with Miles’ family. The last year I’d gone with him to their home in Pennsylvania as well. This year was a little different. Miles’ first baby was due in less than six weeks and his wife was having a hard time with the stress of it all. To get the situation under control, Miles decided to have an intimate holiday, just the two of them.
I’d helped him come up with the idea. He’d felt guilty about it, not wanting to leave me or his parents out in the cold, but he couldn’t deny that Miranda needed a break before the baby, especially since she’d started pre-term labor and was on doctor’s orders for full bed rest.
“How’s it at home?” I asked.
He blew out a heavy breath. “Good. She’s doing good. I’m starting to get nervous myself.”
I chuckled. “I think that’s normal.”
His voice grew deeper. “Jason. Really. Think about what I said. You don’t owe Jess anything.”
I took in a sharp breath. “I know I don’t owe her anything.”
There was a short silence, and I knew he was thinking over what to say next.
“She’s not coming back to you.”
Anger flared in my chest, and I took a deep breath before losing my cool. Miles was only trying to help me keep my head on straight.
“I know,” I told him. “I’m not waiting around for her to.”
“Okay. Tell me you’ll think about this fifty-fifty thing, all right?”
“I’ll think about it,” I lied. “I should go. Merry Early Christmas.”
He laughed. “Same to you.”
I hung up the phone and tossed it on the bed, then stared dismally at the wall. It had been months since Jess even spoke to me. At the last meeting with our lawyers, she avoided all eye contact, then breezed out of the room before I’d gotten the chance to so much as say a word to her.
She’d grown tired of my pleas to take me back, maybe, although those had ceased a year ago. I wasn’t an idiot. I’d accepted the reality of what was happening.
Maybe she was afraid that if we got to talking, our conversation would go right back to that same old place.
I pressed my fingertips against my eyes. I was going to go crazy sitting around thinking about things I had no control over. I needed a release; needed to let some of the pressure out before I blew my lid entirely.
I wasn’t much of a drinker, and I’d never gotten into hard drugs. I suppose you could say I didn’t have an addictive personality, except when it came to work. Exercise had helped a bit with the stress of the last year, but it still didn’t distract me to the degree that I needed. There was only one thing that could truly help me calm down.
Grabbing my phone and wallet, I headed for the hallway. It was still dark and quiet, and I walked softly to the coat rack. Buttoning my jacket, I slipped outside, making sure I had the spare key Susan had given me before shutting and locking the front door.
I didn’t know what time it was, but surely something was open downtown.
The lights of the houses sparkled as I passed them, the multicolored and white orbs lighting up the quiet street. Every house had at least one Christmas tree, and some of them had two. Fences and eaves were draped with more lights, and a little brown dog sniffed around in one of the front yards, following a trail before someone called him back inside. His tail lifted and he went eagerly, hopping like a bunny to his front door.
I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets and took the corner. Light spilled from a bar I hadn’t taken notice of before. Long wooden benches lined the sidewalk in front of it, and a few bundled up people sat on them, shooting the shit and nursing beers.
I opened the door and went inside. The place was small and smelled like greasy food. On the far wall, a tiny window opened up into the kitchen, where a cook was visible dropping a batch of sliced potatoes into a deep fryer. Wooden tables like the ones outside rested against the wall and across from them stretched the bar. The place wasn’t even half full, and the bearded bartender leaned against the counter, looking at his phone.
A young woman with long brown hair and supple curves sat by herself on one of the middle stools. I went and took a seat two spots down from her. The bartender looked up and nodded at me.
“A light draft,” I said.
He turned and grabbed a pint glass. I watched him, feeling the brunette’s eyes on me. Slowly, I turned and smiled at her, trying to make it seem as if I was only just then noticing her presence.
“Hi,” she smiled. “You’re not from Crystal Brook, are you?”
This would be easier than I expected. I hadn’t even had to make a move. My prey was headed straight for my open mouth.
“No,” I agreed. “I’m just here for the holidays.”
She smiled wider. “Visiting family?” she asked, the southern drawl that had only peeked out a little bit began showing itself full force
I hesitated
, giving it some thought. The true story was a little more complicated than I wanted to admit. Keeping it simple — even if that involved telling a little white lie — was best.
“Yep, I’m just in town till Monday.”
The bartender set my drink down in front of me. I wrapped my hand around it and turned slightly towards the woman. She was maybe mid-twenties, and though she had on way more makeup than was necessary, unmistakably pretty.
“I take it you’re a native,” I continued after taking a long drink.
She lifted one shoulder. “Guilty as charged. I’m Amy.” She stuck a slender hand out and I shook it lightly. Her skin was cool and not as welcoming as I’d hoped.
“Jason,” I murmured. “What are you doing here all on your own?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Just hanging out. I was supposed to meet up with my friend, but she bailed on me.”
I leaned one arm against the bar. “That’s too bad.”
“Yeah. Her ex-boyfriend called her and suddenly she’s busy.” She sipped her beer and glanced at the news playing on the television mounted above the bar.
I laughed. “Funny how that works.”
Amy rolled her eyes. “I know, right?”
I swallowed hard. About now would be the time I would usually ask if I could slide over and sit right next to her. After that, I’d commence asking questions about her, chatting her up in an attempt to break the ice further.
I’d done it quite a number of times over the last year, as well as before I was married. Once I’d settled down with Jess, the desire to go out and pick up women had flat out died. After she left me, I’d not only turned to my old ways, but I’d kicked them up a notch as well. Some weekends, I’d indulge in two separate one night stands — a Friday night one and a Saturday night one. In some ways that was best, because it helped the romps from getting even slightly personal. One face and body bled into the next, the whole lifestyle becoming an endless string of casual exchanges.
It had become too easy using women for one thing, just like it had become too easy to take my frustrations out at work by snapping and bossing around my employees.
I’d never really stopped to think much about the man I’d become. Thinking meant reflecting, and reflecting meant opening up all the wounds that I worked so hard to ignore.
Damaged (Crystal Brook Billionaires) Page 7