She lifted her shoulder with feigned indifference. “It is the Duncan way.”
“That excuse sucked then and it does even more now.” He studied her and her cheeks grew more enflamed. “But that isn’t the whole story, is it, Jelly Bean?”
Part of what had captivated her about Sean was that he saw her. Past the walls and defense mechanisms, he could always see the deeper truths inside. The perusal now felt like an invasion, one she didn’t have the proper weapons to fight against.
Her gaze flickered downward, no longer able to look at him.
“Listen,” he pressed. “If your parents said something about me, I should at least be given the opportunity to counter.”
“The weekend had nothing to do with you.” A truth and a lie, because Sean’s ghost was everywhere. Even in the moments she’d shared with Aiden.
“Then why do you look so ashamed?”
“Because…” She searched the ceiling for any other answer than Aiden, then thought of her mother’s admission. “I learned Uncle Bradley wasn’t just snubbing me. He’s refused all visitors except for my mom.”
“Oh…” To her relief, Sean’s penetrating stare turned to contrition. “You have to know I never wanted this for him.” His voice dipped, a plea as much as an explanation. “I loved him, too. He was my friend as much as he was your uncle, and he needed help.”
She swallowed the rush of emotion; they’d been over this and it didn’t change a thing. “So, you live here now?” She peeked over his shoulder into the condo. “Interesting choice of location. How did you manipulate Trapp into selling?”
“Oh, I didn’t buy it. No need when I’ll be back in my real condo as soon as you come out of denial.” Sean grinned, but she refused to be baited and remained silent. “I’m renting the place for six months.” He turned to make room for her to enter. “Wanna see it?”
She eyed his naked chest. “No, thank you.”
“Ah, come on. I know you’ve always been curious what it looks like.”
She hesitated. The smart choice would be to leave, to walk away, especially when she knew unquestionably that she should be nowhere near him. But then again, she’d never been especially wise when it came to Sean Taylor. “Fine. But put on some clothes.” She walked past him, her shoulder lightly grazing his bare chest. “You smell like a football locker room.” He didn’t. He smelled like raw power and controlled sensuality, which only ratcheted up her aggravation.
Sean chuckled behind her.
She kept moving, ignoring him. “It looks like ours…” her voice faded, hoping he hadn’t caught her mistake. It wasn’t their home anymore. It was hers. “But backwards,” she continued as if she’d never messed up.
Mr. Trapp’s tastes were masculine and modern, his life as a bachelor apparent in every choice. All the furniture pieces were solid wood or rich leather. Even the area rugs were designed with sharp angles and warm tones.
Sean kept his distance, walking to the shirt flung over one of the dining room chairs. He slipped it over his head, the dry-fit material clinging to the sweat on his body.
April tugged her treacherous eyes away and wandered into the kitchen, Sean quietly following. It too was exactly like hers, but with darker cabinets and lighter granite. On the edge of the island sat a blender, half full of a beige, thick liquid. Next to it was an open bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips.
A shot of laughter burst from her lips. “How many times do I have to remind you that it negates the value of a protein shake to add 1000 calories of sugar?”
“Dark chocolate doesn’t count. It’s good for you.”
“In small doses. Not half the bag.” She eased onto a stool opposite the appliance, while Sean walked around to finish his abandoned task.
“Says who?” The blender spun to life while he poured chips through the small hole in the lid, the blades crackling as it crushed the chocolate. When the liquid turned smooth, Sean turned the power off and pulled two glasses from the cabinet, one supersized, the other one a small tumbler. “Besides, this is the only way I can get you to drink it.”
He winked and her chest ached with familiarity. Sean would drink a shake every morning, adding some kind of sweets to it. He wasn’t all that picky either. Ding dongs, Twinkies, Oreos. He tried a donut once, but it was an epic failure.
“I don’t drink them because your shakes taste like garbage.”
“This garbage has fifty grams of protein, flax seed and multiple essential vitamins.” He poured until both cups were nearly full. “And it’s one hundred times better for you than the three cups of coffee I have no doubt you consumed this morning.”
Her lips pressed together. It was only two cups and one didn’t count because it was airline coffee and so bitter she had to down it like a shot. “Your point?”
“You haven’t been taking care of yourself,” his voice softened as did his entire being. It still startled her how a man so strong and hard could turn as soft as a fluffy comforter on a cold day. It was why he’d been her resting place her entire life.
“Work has been demanding.” And heartbreak also wreaked havoc on one’s appetite.
“That’s a lame excuse—one that isn’t going to fly with me.” He passed her the smaller cup catching her fingers with his. Electricity sparked through every nerve while his gaze seared past all the walls she’d erected between them. “I care about you too much to watch you waste away.”
“I’m not your concern anymore.”
“Of course you are, April, we’ve been friends for twenty-six years.” He only called her by her given name on rare occasions—a moment of intimacy, an intense conversation, or in this case, a longing plea. “That doesn’t go away in a few short months.” His grip released before she could respond. “Besides, we both know that trying to coexist is not going to work. Our lives are too entangled. We share the same friends, the same history, the same hallway for crying out loud.”
“That one could have been avoided,” she reminded him.
He opened his mouth, likely to argue but closed it. “Not relevant.” He pressed his palms to the edge of the island, leaning against it as if he needed the extra support. “I’m not asking for much here. Just maybe that you don’t bolt from the room when I walk into it.”
“I would never be that obvious.”
“Fine. Don’t saunter off in a haze of bitterness and contempt.”
Trying to hide her smile, she lifted the cup to her lips, the awful but so familiar smell making her want to gag and cry at the same time. “I know what you’re trying to do, but it won’t be the same between us,” she said, setting the glass back down on the counter. “I don’t trust you like I used to.”
“I’m fully aware of that.” He sighed, and the shadow of pain that darkened his face physically hurt her.
Despite their history, she wasn’t trying to hurt him, but she also wasn’t about to offer hope that wasn’t there. What he did changed her. It changed them. That fact wouldn’t be fixed by a protein peace offering.
“But, I guess for our friends’ sake, a truce between us might be doable. Torturing Journey the last couple of weeks hasn’t been nearly as satisfying as I thought it would be.” It had been straight up hell. She missed her best friend terribly.
Sean smiled like he used to whenever they’d argue and make up, and the boyish vulnerability made her smile in return. He lifted his monster cup and held it out. “A toast.”
“You are so totally predictable,” she groaned, but lifted her cup.
“To being friends.” He raised a mischievous brow. “With lots and lots of benefits.”
Ugh, she hated how he could always make her laugh. “No benefits and friends is a little strong of a word. Maybe to not being strangers.”
He leaned his forearms on the table, his face coming far too close to hers. “I can live with that… for now.”
The rims of their cups touched and parted, but he waited, his eyes sparkling, daring her.
“Bottoms’ up.” If for no other rea
son than to prove she could, April sucked down the drink in two horrendous gulps and slammed the empty glass back on the counter.
Sean laughed so hard he had to cover his mouth with his hand until he swallowed. “You look like you ingested a cactus.”
“I feel like I drank down a live fish.” She dry heaved, her eyes watering. “Hurry and get me some water!” She jumped from the bar stool, sure that his beloved protein was going to reappear at any moment.
Gripping the water bottle Sean had managed to find, she tugged open the cap and drank. The cool liquid soothed her throat and appalled stomach.
“Never again,” she moaned, stopping only for air.
“You say that every time.”
His kiss to the top of her head came so quick and effortless that she doubted he even registered what he’d just done. Especially when he carried the blender back to the sink without so much as a hiccup.
But she’d felt the contact down to her toes. Felt the way her body relaxed and her heart stuttered. Felt the intimacy it conveyed even if only for a brief second.
Hands occupied with washing out the blender, he glanced at her over his shoulder. “You okay now?”
“Yeah. Crisis averted.” It was by far one of the greatest lies she’d ever told.
Chapter 17
His transition back to Bentwood and to his former group of friends had gone so smooth, it was almost as if he’d never left. Journey checked on him daily and he and the guys were back to meeting at Lane’s Diner—home to the best hand-spun shakes—for spontaneous lunches. Even the new job felt comfortable; many of the players and coaches recognized him from his time with the University of Texas Longhorns, giving his opinions immediate validity.
Only one person had yet to do more than offer him an empty truce, and naturally, she was the one person who mattered the most. He’d thought their cordial conversation was the beginning of a fresh start, but he’d only caught her once in passing since then and she’d been on her phone at the time.
Well, not tonight. Tonight, he’d wait in the lobby and make her talk to him. Even if it meant killing time by playing cards with Chester while he worked the security desk.
From across the counter, Chester slid him seven red bicycle cards. Rummy wasn’t really his thing, but he was bored and restless and getting more and more annoyed at April’s relentless schedule.
It was past seven and she still hadn’t come home from the office.
He arranged his cards in order and watched Chester do the same. “I thought you said April gets home earlier on Wednesdays.”
“She does. But earlier isn’t saying much when she rolls in at ten or eleven at night.”
That only made Sean scowl further. Last year, the hours had been bad, but this pace was going to kill her. No wonder her skin looked so pale and drawn. She probably hadn’t been outside longer than it took to walk to her car.
Chester tapped the deck. “Your draw.”
He complied, one eye fixed on the door, and exchanged his lone two for a matching five. They continued that way for ten minutes before Chester laid down his cards in one long straight.
“Gotcha again,” he beamed, his smile an odd contrast to his hardened, war-touched face. Though only twenty-eight, Chester’s eyes were those of a man who’d already lived lifetimes. He kept his dark hair shaved close to the scalp and had two tattoos that were visible—a cross on his left forearm and an army ranger shield that peeked out from his right shirt sleeve.
Sean once asked him why he took the job as head of condo security when he could have easily chosen a more demanding gig. Chester had tossed off the question with a quip about the perks of a free condo, but Sean often wondered if Chester used the low stress environment to forget the memories of his time in the service. From the little he did share, forgetting would be a lifelong battle.
Chester gathered the strays into a pile. “You really suck at cards.”
“Only because I’m not paying attention.” He glared again at the closed entry doors, willing her to walk through. “What time is it again?”
“Five minutes later than the last time you asked me.” He shuffled the deck with easy movements. “You sound as bored as the new guy I hired last week.”
“Yeah, about that. I found him asleep in front of the TV when I went for a run this morning.”
“Crap.” Now he looked as annoyed as Sean. “Okay, I’ll take care of it. Just don’t mention it to April. I got an earful the other day about my less than effective security measures.”
“Really? Why would she…” But April walked in right before he could finish his question. “Finally.” He tapped the counter, and Chester moved on to a game of solitaire without flinching.
April hadn’t seen him yet. She was too busy tucking her phone back into her purse. The skirt she wore hugged her hips, tight but not provocative, though the way it swayed had Sean’s thoughts dipping into dangerous territory.
“One victory at a time,” he muttered to himself, carefully moving into position to either force a head on collision or at least make her stop.
When she finally did bother to look up, they stood only a foot apart. “Sean?” Her eyebrows scrunched together. “Did you need something?”
“Me? No, but you’re in serious need of rescuing.” He tapped her diamond watch, a gift from her parents after she’d graduated law school. “Seven thirty? That’s thirteen hours today.” He knew because her car had been gone when he’d finished his five miles.
“You no longer get to have an opinion about how many hours I work.” She shifted, trying to put distance between them emotionally and physically. She’d obviously forgotten how stubborn he could be. They weren’t going backwards, not after he’d felt that spark in his kitchen.
“As your friend…” he drew out the word, reminding her of their truce. “My job is to make sure you don’t grow old before you turn thirty. Which is why you’re coming to Mulligans with us tonight.” He didn’t have to define us. The word had always included Ty, Journey and Beck.
“Not a chance.” In true Duncan fashion, she brushed by him, head high, apathetic shields even higher.
But he’d caught her mouth lift when he mentioned their old haunt. She wanted to go. She just needed someone to help her remember what it was like to actually do something she wanted to do.
April made a beeline to the elevators, her rush a further tell that he was getting under her skin. Good. He wanted to be there. Wanted to be everywhere—her thoughts, her heart, her fantasies. That was what they had promised each other—a lifetime of being one flesh.
He slid past the doors just as they were closing, smooth enough they didn’t even pop back open. “Now, where were we?”
“You were talking nonsense, and I was thinking of how good a bath is going to feel.” Her head fell back and she focused on the ceiling, exhaustion showing through a long sigh and the way she briefly closed her eyes.
The sight of her exposed neck was too much to resist. Sean rested his palm against the cool metal wall, crowding her. “I think you’re afraid to hang out with me.”
Her eyes flashed open. “You’re delusional,” she scoffed, but her lips trembled slightly. More ice gone. More of that infernal shell chipped away.
“No, I’m not. But that’s what bothers you so much, isn’t it? The fact that you miss me pushing you. Miss being more than some robot in heels.” His hand slipped off the wall and he straightened. “Then again, maybe you don’t even remember what it feels like to be alive.”
She held his gaze with fiery denial. “If a country club bar is your epitome of living, then I’d say you’re the one who needs some rescuing.”
“It’s not the bar or the atmosphere. It’s the five of us. Together. Laughing, dancing, being young. Journey and Ty are finally engaged and we haven’t even celebrated.” His voice caught, the destruction of the friendship they’d once all shared a void in his chest. “Above all else, I thought you’d at least want to make things right with her.”
>
April flinched and he knew he’d hit a nerve. For all of her bluster and snarkiness, she was undeniably a true and loyal friend.
“I have to work tomorrow.” The way she said it made his pulse jump with victory. She was caving.
“We all have to work tomorrow. So what? Be a little tired. It’s not going to kill you.” The elevator dinged and the door slid open to their mutual hallway. “But, if it makes you feel better, I promise I’ll have you back home by eleven. From what Chester says, that’s when you usually roll in from work anyway.” He put his hand against the seam, holding it wide for her. “And while we’re on the subject, why are you worried about the condo’s security? Did something happen while I was gone?”
“No, of course not. It was for….” She burst out of the confined space as if he’d trapped her in there, then spun around, a tornado of silk and perfume. “It doesn’t matter who I did it for. You shouldn’t be asking Chester about me. And you shouldn’t be making plans with our friends expecting me to come.” She threw up her hands. “We are not a couple anymore.”
He stalked closer. “We weren’t a couple for twenty-two years, and you had no problem with it then.”
“It was different.”
“How?”
Her expression shifted, back to the one he’d noticed the other night. A splash of guilt mixed with anxiety. Again, dread snuck through his muscles. She wasn’t telling him something. A critical something. But like before, she gave no explanation, conceding instead as if it were the less painful of the two options. “Okay fine. I’ll go. For Journey. But I’m only staying two hours.”
“Perfect. I’ll come get you in twenty minutes.”
“I’m taking my own car.”
“Works for me. Your car is nicer than mine anyway.” Another gift from mommy and daddy. Though like most things, it came with strings attached. The strings that time had been a summer internship at Duncan Electronics, the Houston office, of course, between her second and third year of law school. Pulling her from him had undoubtedly been their goal. But they’d underestimated his persistence. Just as April was doing now. “Do you want to pick me up, too? Or can I at least come to your door.”
The Truth Between Us (Bentwood Book 2) Page 12