Hard to Handle

by Jessica Lemmon

  Hard to Handle

  Jessica Lemmon

  New York Boston

  Begin Reading

  Table of Contents

  An Excerpt from Tempting the Billionaire

  Newsletters

  Copyright Page

  In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without the permission of the publisher constitute unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), prior written permission must be obtained by contacting the publisher at permissions@hbgusa.com. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.

  For my brother, Nick, who shares Aiden’s unbreakable spirit.

  “Life is a beautiful struggle.”

  Acknowledgments

  First and foremost, my humble thanks to God for giving me the amazing opportunity to write and create. I love this gig! Thank you to my husband, John, who puts up with deadlines (and lack of food in the house during deadlines) like a champ. Thanks to “cheer-readers” Niki Hughes, Amy Wade, Amber Dunlevy, and Jennifer Hill, who can’t wait to read my next book no matter what stage it’s in.

  Fellow writers on Twitter and beyond (too many of you to name!) for encouraging me when I was in the freak-out stage. Nicole Resciniti, my agent and friend, for fact-checking motorcycle stuff (all mistakes are mine) and for loving my work. You make me smile.

  Lauren Plude, my editor and other half, for loving Aiden with a purity that rivaled my own. (Invite me to the Plude/Downey wedding, will you?) Everyone at Grand Central Publishing/Forever for your hand in polishing this book, especially the editors who make me look like I know the difference between blond and blonde.

  Thanks to everyone at Reliable Construction, where I worked while creating this book. It’s the little things that meant the most. To Dave and Richard for your constant encouragement, to Tammy for teaching me to recycle paper and use the back for note-taking (you have no idea how much of this book is jotted on half sheets of paper!). And to Chuck Bern…I’m not saying you’re Axle Zoller, but he certainly has your mustache.

  Unlike Shane’s story, Aiden’s didn’t flow out in a smooth ribbon of inspiration. As open and awesome as Aiden is, you wouldn’t think he would’ve been such a hard nut to crack! Eventually, though, I found him. In the midst of my writing and rewriting and tweaking, finally, he appeared. Thanks to all the readers who let me know you couldn’t wait for Aiden’s book. You inspired and challenged me to be true to who Aiden is, and give you the best story I could write. I pray I succeeded…and hope Aiden is worth the wait!

  Chapter 1

  Aiden Downey spun his beer by its neck, the now-warm contents sloshing against the sides of the bottle. He’d been watching Sadie from his chair at the back of the reception tent for the better part of thirty minutes, unable to shake the guilt swamping him.

  Shane and Crickitt, God bless them, had been so careful when they asked Aiden and Sadie to be the only two members of the wedding party. But if there was one thing he and Sadie could agree on, it was doing right by their friends. They’d put aside their differences for the big day and had managed to be cordial, though not sociable, until the start of the reception.

  That’s when Aiden had bumbled his way through a long-overdue apology. While he’d never apologize for prioritizing his mother during her fight with cancer, he realized too late it was a mistake to allow his ex-wife back into his life. He meant well when he decided to keep the divorce quiet, but Aiden should have told his mother before she died. Now she’d never know the truth, never get to meet Sadie. A regret he’d have to live with.

  Sadie’s buoyant giggle, a fake one if Aiden had to guess, lifted onto the air. He turned to see her toss her head back, blonde curls cascading down her bare back as she gripped Crickitt’s younger brother’s arm. Garrett, who had been Krazy-Glued to Sadie’s side the entire reception, grinned down at her, clearly smitten. Aiden dragged his gaze from her mane of soft golden waves to her dress, a pink confection hugging her every amazing, petite curve. He couldn’t blame the kid for staring at her intently. Sadie was beautiful.

  “Rough,” he heard Shane say as he pulled out the chair next to him and sat, beer bottle in hand.

  His cousin looked relaxed with his white tuxedo shirt unbuttoned and the sleeves cuffed at the elbows. He’d taken off the tie he’d worn earlier, a sight that almost made Aiden laugh. Before Shane met Crickitt, Aiden would’ve bet Shane slept wearing a tie. Crickitt had vanquished Shane’s inner workaholic and in return, Shane had stepped up to become the man Crickitt needed.

  Aiden had had a similar opportunity with Sadie. It was a test he’d failed spectacularly. “She has a right to be mad,” he said, tilting his beer bottle again.

  “You were in a difficult situation,” Shane said magnanimously.

  Maybe so, but after his mother succumbed to the cancer riddling her body, after he’d grieved and moaned and helped his father plan the funeral, Aiden had seen things more clearly. Remembering the way he’d shut Sadie out of his life, rejected her in the worst possible way, stung like alcohol to a fresh cut. He should have brought her in, no matter how bad the circumstances. His mother would have accepted her.

  His mother would have loved her.

  “If I could go back, I’d tell Mom the truth.” He swallowed thickly. “She deserved the truth.”

  “Don’t do that, man.” Shane clapped him on the shoulder. “You did what you believed was best. It was never going to be an easy situation.”

  True, but he’d taken an already hard situation and complicated the hell out of it. At his mother’s diagnosis, Aiden went into Responsibility Mode. With his sister in Tennessee, a brother in Chicago, his other brother in Columbus, and his father simultaneously grieving and working, everything had fallen on Aiden.

  When his mother said she wanted to move to Oregon to seek alternative treatments, Aiden rearranged his entire life and helped her do just that. Later, his siblings had argued with him that they would have helped if they’d known about any of it. Aiden had known in his gut there wasn’t enough time to pull everyone together for a powwow.

  “I appreciate you being here,” Shane said.

  Aiden snapped out of his reverie. “Oh man, I’m sorry. I’m being a jerk on your big day.” He straightened in his chair, ashamed to have let melancholy overshadow his happiness for Shane and Crickitt.

  Speaking of, here she came, poured into a slim white wedding dress, fabric flowers sewn into the flowing train. She grinned at Shane, her face full of love, her blue eyes shining. When she flicked a look over to Aiden, he promptly slapped a smile onto his face.

  “You look amazing, C,” he told her.

  Crickitt’s grin widened. “Thank you.”

  “And this reception”—he blew out a breath for effect—“the lights”—he gestured to the hundreds of strands draped inside the tent—“the flowers, the band.” The three-piece band included a formerly famous singer a decade past his heyday, but the guy still had it.

  Crickitt rested a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Shane insisted on all this. I wanted something simple. When he suggested getting married in a tent in Tennessee…I didn’t expect this.” She waved a hand around the interior of the tent: the shining wooden dance floor, the thick swaths of mosquito netting covering every entrance, the tall, narrow air conditioners positioned at each corner to keep the guests cool and comfortable during the warm June evening.

  She smiled down at Shane. “But it is pretty great.”

  “You’re pretty great,” Shane said, tugging her into his lap and kissing her bare shoulder. The wedding photographer swooped in, capturing the picture for posterity, a good
one by the looks of it.

  Aiden picked the moment to excuse himself for a refill.

  Or maybe two.

  * * *

  Sadie caught movement out of the corner of her eye and swept her attention away from Crickitt’s attentive brother to see Aiden tracking his way across the tent in that easygoing lope of his.

  She’d never seen him in a suit until she preceded Crickitt down the aisle. He didn’t wear the tie he’d worn earlier, picked to match her bridesmaid’s dress. She knew the intricate design by heart. She’d traced the tiny pink and silver paisley design, all the while trying not to allow the sorrow in his voice to crack through her defenses. He’d not only broken her heart last summer with a phone call, he’d broken her will, demolished her sense of true north. She couldn’t forgive him—or herself—for allowing it to happen.

  She’d cut the conversation short tonight, recalling the promise she’d made to never show her vulnerability to this man again, and stalked away from him as fast as her sparkly pink heels would carry her.

  Garrett turned his attention to someone else standing in their little circle, and Sadie took the opportunity to watch Aiden. Tailored black pants hugged his impressive thighs and led up to a tucked white shirt, open at the collar and showing enough of his tanned neck to be distracting.

  I made a mistake last summer, Sadie. One I’ll regret always.

  A pang of guilt stabbed her. She hadn’t expected the flood of emotion that crashed into her when she saw him for the first time in nearly a year. She’d planned to tell him she was sorry he lost his mother. And she was. She may have never met the woman, but she saw her once. And she saw the connection between mother and son as clearly as she saw Aiden now.

  Sadie kept up with Aiden’s mother’s illness via updates from Crickitt. The decision not to go to the funeral went without saying, but Sadie hadn’t been able to stop herself from sending an anonymous bouquet to the funeral home. Losing a parent was one of the worst things in the world, she knew.

  Sadie straightened her spine, wiggled her heel into the floor, and reminded herself again not to dwell on her own heartbreak. Her best friend’s wedding wasn’t the place to dig up the past. Even so, she’d spent most of the day desperately trying to tamp down one emotion after the other. Thank goodness girls were supposed to cry at weddings.

  Which is why she’d been avoiding him. Aiden had a knack for seeing right through her. That was the clincher. He knew her. Picked her apart with those clairvoyant sea green eyes of his, and left her defenseless. And being called out by Aiden Downey was at the tippy-top of her “To Don’t” list.

  Aiden pulled a hand through his thick hair, the length of it landing between his shoulder blades. Sadie recalled the texture of it as if she’d run her fingers through it yesterday. She hated that.

  Damn muscle memory.

  Crickitt’s mother, Chandra, approached the bar and gave Aiden a plump hug. Aiden smiled down at her, but Sadie saw the sadness behind it, and for a split second, it made her heart hurt. She’d gotten good at reading him, too. Knowing that reminded her of just how close she’d been to losing her heart to him…until a phone call annihilated everything between them.

  Whether it was the invisible cord of awareness strung between them or coincidence, Sadie wasn’t sure, but Aiden chose that moment to look in her direction. His smile faltered, the dimple on his left cheek fading before he flicked his eyes away.

  Sadie used to love the way he shook her up. From across a room. With nothing more than a look. But now her heart raced for a far different reason. One she refused to name. She frowned down at her empty champagne flute. She was going to need more alcohol if she hoped to toughen her hide. This exposed vulnerability simply wasn’t going to cut it.

  “Refill?” Garrett asked, gesturing to her empty glass.

  “Yes,” she said, grateful for his doting. She handed it over. “Keep ’em coming.”

  * * *

  Aiden bid the last lingering guests farewell, watching as a sophisticated older couple by the name of Townsend walked out to the driveway.

  Shane and Crickitt August had made their exit hours ago, amidst cheers and handfuls of heart-shaped biodegradable confetti. Since he was staying at Shane and Crickitt’s cabin for the weekend, Aiden was left in charge of supervising the caterer, breaking down the tent, and clearing away the remains of the celebration.

  “Do you need me to get you to a hotel, Sadie?”

  Aiden turned in the direction of the slightly exasperated voice to find Garrett gesturing with his hands. Sadie was the picture of stubbornness, her arms folded over her ample breasts, her bottom lip jutting out. Aiden allowed himself a small, private smile.

  “You’re in no condition to drive,” Garrett said. He reached out to palm her arm and Sadie expertly swung out of reach.

  Aiden felt kind of bad for the kid. Twenty-two-year-old Garrett Day was far too inexperienced to handle a woman of Sadie’s magnitude on his best day, and even then…

  “There a problem?” Aiden approached with his hands in his pockets, trying to broadcast that he didn’t care if Garrett was trying to take Sadie with him when he left. He supposed he shouldn’t care. Aiden had no interest in getting into a pissing match with him, but if Garrett tried to take Sadie when she didn’t want to go, he’d have hell to pay. C’s little brother or not.

  Garrett gave Aiden an assessing glance before answering. “Just making sure Sadie has a ride tonight.”

  “I don’t need a ride. I’m staying here,” she practically spat.

  Aiden rocked back on his heels. She was staying at the cabin? Hell’s bells. What were Crickitt and Shane up to?

  “I’ll make sure she gets inside okay,” Aiden said.

  “I’ll get myself inside, thank you very much.” Sadie tipped her head and propped her hands on her nipped waist. Aiden knew he shouldn’t allow his eyes to chase the line of her slender neck to the bodice of her dress. And he shouldn’t linger at the point where her breasts met in shadowed cleavage, but he did it anyway. Good thing he was watching her. A moment later, she took a step toward the cabin and wobbled in her dangerously tall heels.

  Both men rushed forward to steady her. Aiden got there first. A victory. He gripped her waist and Sadie’s hand came up to clutch the front of his shirt. He desperately tried to ignore the warmth spreading across his chest, the feel of her against him. Even though the circumstances were all wrong, the timing completely off, there was no denying this gorgeous woman belonged in his arms. Sadie didn’t let go, and Aiden didn’t think he could unless someone physically pried his hands off her.

  He turned his attention to Garrett. “You can head out. I have her.” Aiden held his eye. Dared him to argue. Garrett frowned, and for a second Aiden thought he might, but then Crickitt’s mother, queen of impeccable timing, intruded.

  “Garrett, we have the car. Is Sadie…Oh! Aiden, perfect.” She sent him an approving smile. “Do you need my help?”

  “No, Mrs. D, I’ll make sure she’s all right.”

  She made a tsking sound. “Poor dear had an entire magnum of champagne.”

  Garret didn’t look as if he wanted to leave but did anyway, walking his mother out of the tent. Maybe he’d come to the conclusion Sadie was more than he could handle after all.

  Aiden guided Sadie to the house as she teetered on those pink stilts she called shoes. He had fond memories of her shoes. Fond because the added inches brought her within kissable reach. His heart gave an echoing ache. “You should take those off,” he said, stopping short of offering to carry her. He’d lifted her in his arms once before. One year ago. Felt more like a dozen.

  “I’m fine,” she said, tipping again. Her argument was garbled but genuine.

  “I assume your things are already in your room?” He tucked her against him as they stepped inside the cabin, then shut the door behind them. He also assumed their matchmaking friends had put them both upstairs. Since there were only two bedrooms on this floor, and since he was sta
ying in the master on the right, he assumed Sadie’s was to the left.

  She mumbled something and he moved to settle her into the recliner.

  “No,” she protested, locking her arms around his neck. “I have to get out of this stupid dress.” She gazed up at him, her brown eyes slightly glassy.

  Aiden swallowed thickly, taking in all that blonde hair falling in waves around her heart-shaped face. She always was beautiful. And those lips. She licked her bottom one and he was half-tempted to lean in for a taste.

  She’s drunk, you idiot.

  She started toward his room and he caught her hips and steered her away. “Not in there.”

  She spun on him, narrowing her eyes. “Why not?”

  Lie. But he couldn’t lie to Sadie. He never could. Even when it would have benefitted him the most. “Because my stuff’s in there,” he mumbled.

  She blinked at him and he readied for a fight. It didn’t come. “Fine. I’m too tired to argue. And I have to get this off.” She moved one hand to the bodice of her dress and wiggled it back and forth, sending her breasts jiggling inside the fitted top.

  Aiden stared. Actually stared. Like when he’d found his older brother’s stash of Playboys for the first time. No one filled out their clothes like Sadie.

  She cleared her throat and he jerked his eyes north. “Help me?”

  Crap.

  He was being tested, here, in the cruelest way. She was asking him to undress her? Exposing herself to him, and Aiden to her naked body? He couldn’t do it while sporting a woody or she’d cut him off at the knees. Drunk or not.

  Aiden mentally tied a noose around his mojo. And pulled. “Sure thing.”

  He followed her into the room and she dropped on the bed, falling back with an oomph! She toed at her shoes until they hit the floor. Aiden retrieved them, dangerous-looking spikes covered with winking rhinestones. How women walked in these things, he’d never know. Sadie told him once that because of her diminutive size she preferred the tallest shoes. He’d concurred at the time. Without them, Sadie only came to the middle of his chest. He was in favor of any contraption if it meant bringing her lips closer to his.