“A month?” He sounds skeptical.
“Yes,” I say firmly. “But,” I hold up a finger, “I need to take it slow at first. And you have to understand my background.”
“How about this? When you’re ready, you let me know.”
He takes several more bites without speaking and finally cleans his plate. “That was delicious.” Then he takes his finger and puts the tip in his mouth and sucks it. This is killing me. When he’s done, he heads to the door.
“Wait. Where are you going?”
“Home. Why?”
“I thought we could spend some time together.”
“I believe you said you needed time.” He gestures with air quotes. “Proper time for people to get used to your broken engagement. Time to get your head on straight with everything. You’re entitled to all the time you want. But remember, we aren’t in any sort of committed relationship. So when you figure everything out, I might not be there waiting for you.”
Nooooo, I want to scream. But it was all my idea, so what can I say?
He breezes by me as he leaves, and all I want to do is grab ahold of him and tell him how much he means to me, not to mention all the dirty things I want to do to him. But he’s gone. And fuck me.
Twenty-One
Brandon
Walking in the house, I jam my fist into the wall, needing to hit something. I feel like a fool, wearing my heart like a fucking punching bag for this woman. And she’s jabbed me with shot after shot, like when she got fucking engaged without telling me. I thought we were closer than that. And the only reason she’s no longer with the guy is because he cheated. Now she tells me I have to wait. Maybe I should just hand her my balls after I cut them off. The only problem is, I still want her with a need that’s indescribable.
And that’s not her problem. It’s mine. She didn’t tell me to wait around like a pansy for her. That had been my choice.
“What the fuck, man? Are you trying to break your hand or what?”
I glance up at my brother before looking down at my bloody hand.
“Shit,” I grit out. I shake my hand as if that would help and head to the kitchen.
Braedon follows and starts to bag up some ice.
“What gives? Is it that society girl again?”
I wish he wouldn’t call Jenna that. It’s a reminder that we come from very different circumstances.
“No,” I lie, because I don’t want his shit.
“Good, then maybe you’ll go out with me tonight.”
That’s an easy answer. “I’m not interested.”
“Damn, dude. You act like an old grumpy man. How many times do I have to tell you to get laid?”
“How many ways can I explain to you that sex isn’t everything?” Especially if it’s meaningless, I think.
“Look, it’s a scientific fact. Sex acts like a drug releasing endorphins in your body much like some of the common drugs. It leaves you with a happy high.”
“Don’t tell me you’re using that line to get laid.”
He grins. “It works, and it’s the truth. Trust me. Kym is proof. We’ve been testing the theory, over and over again.”
“Who’s Kym?”
“The blonde that was here the other night.”
“Do you like this one? Or should I forget her name?”
He’s quiet for a second as he hands over the bag of ice. “I like her.”
“That’s something,” I mutter.
Braedon hasn’t liked a girl since that bad high school breakup he had.
“So get your ass up, old man, and let’s hit a club.”
“Not interested,” I say flatly.
“Fine. I’ll have Kym come over and bring her friend. She’s pretty hot.”
“No, thank you. If she’s Kym’s friend, she’s too young for me anyway.”
“Dude, you’re like twenty-four, and she’s twenty or twenty-one, I think.”
Women my age or younger don’t appeal to me. I’ve dated a few, but I’ve always preferred them a little older, even in high school. Mom teased me when I went to prom with a senior girl and I’d been a sophomore. She said then and says now, I’m an old soul.
“Too late, I’ve already texted her. They are going to be here in a half an hour, so clean your shit up.” He points to my hand. “… and deal. I’ll order pizza.”
I should leave, but Braedon knows I won’t. I’m not a dick. So I go and patch up my hand and work out a way to tell the girl when she shows up that I’m not interested.
One woman has a chokehold on my heart, whether I like it or not.
The night actually turns out semi-fun. Once Braedon and Kym disappear to his bedroom, I’m left with her friend. We make the best of it and talk about the awkwardness of being put together. She ends up explaining that she’d recently broken up with her ex and isn’t quite over him. Her well-meaning friends, like Kym, keep trying to set her up with guys to get her to move on, but according to her, she isn’t ready. That takes the pressure off of everything as I explain that I too am not looking for a relationship for similar reasons. We end up spending the night talking and laughing at ourselves. It’s the first time in what feels like ages I smile for more than a few minutes.
Up bright and early the next morning, I get to the shop extra early. When Dana shows up, I’m working on a ten-year-old BMW three series. She greets me with a, “Morning, boss,” and I have to smile. Things finally are getting back in order.
Over the course of the week, my fingers twitch. It’s like I’m having Jenna withdrawals. She may be my drug of choice, but she’s made her position clear. I holler over to Jeff who is getting ready to leave for the day.
“You want to go out?”
His brows rise because we haven’t gone out in a while.
Unfortunately, Dana hears and says, “I’m in.”
I don’t argue. It’s been one of those rough days when none of the cars are cooperating. We don’t go downtown. On any night, it’s a little too straight-laced for my crew. We head to a bar just outside of town, where those of us who don’t want to fit the mold of high society hang out. Only when we walk in, the townies have invaded.
“What the fuck?” I say.
“You’re shitting me,” Dana adds.
Apparently, Jeff and Dana haven’t been to the club in a while either.
The crowd is a mix of college students and some of the regulars. A live band plays in the corner and people dance, jumping around like crazy where tables used to be.
Jeff shrugs and makes his way to the bar. I follow with Dana on my heels. As our drinks arrive, I spot a familiar face. I take my glass and tell Dana and Jeff I’ll be back. Wading my way through the crowd, I greet her.
“Samantha, right?”
She nods. “And you’re Brandon.”
Silently, I agree. “What brings you here tonight? Is Ben with you?”
She gives me a look a mother would give a child during a scolding, a look I know.
“I can go out without him. He trusts me.”
Her indulgent smile has me backpedaling.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“It’s okay.” She points in the direction of the stage. “I’m here with my friend, Berkeley. She’s dating one of the band members.”
I glance over at the band and lift a brow.
“Have fun. If you need me, I’ll be over there.”
Just because townies have invaded doesn’t mean the bar is the safest place to be. I catch sight of members of a motorcycle club sitting in another corner, amused by the newest crowd. I don’t know Ben all that well, but I will keep an eye on his woman to make sure she won’t be bothered.
Several drinks later, Jeff and I make jokes as Dana dances with some clean-cut college guy when someone taps me on my shoulder.
“Fate has a way of putting you in my path,” she says, unable to stop from smiling.
I have to shake my head when I glance up to see Lexa.
“I’m start
ing to think you’re stalking me.”
Good-naturedly, she says, “I can say the same.”
She sips at a frosty drink in a martini glass, and her eyes drift over my shoulder. For a second, she stares at Jeff, then quickly back at me.
“I’m going to check on Dana,” Jeff says to me and disappears into the crowd.
“What brings you here?” I ask.
I find I don’t mind Lexa. She’s fun, and I have to give her points for being independent enough to go out alone.
She takes another swallow of her drink. “Someone at the hotel told me a local band was playing here tonight. With nothing better to do, I thought I would give it a try. Plus, tomorrow is my thirtieth birthday.”
“Happy birthday.”
“Not yet.” Her eyes hold mind. “But maybe you can help me celebrate.” Grinning, I shake my head, not at all surprised at her boldness. “No, I get it. You aren’t available. But I’m stuck here in this city knowing no one. It’s kind of sad. I would love a wingman for the night. Or maybe you could hook me up with your friend.”
“You mean Jeff?”
I hadn’t introduced her to my staff, and Jeff typically stays in the bay. He’s not a people person.
“Yeah, he’s hot in a silent broody kind of way.” Sighing, she adds, “Not as hot as you, but…”
I ignore her comment, not wanting to encourage her.
Deflecting, I say, “Sure. I’ll introduce you when he gets back.”
She shrugs. “And thanks, by the way, for fixing my car. I didn’t get to see you when I picked it up.”
The part had come in, and she’d dropped it off.
“Jeff did all the work,” I tell her.
“Then I owe him.” She winks, and I’m sure Jeff will get the ride of his life if he’s interested.
What I don’t tell her is that I’d gotten her the part, sold it to her at wholesale, and gave her a discount on the labor.
“Now, are you going to join me tomorrow or not?”
I might not be ready to give up on Jenna, but hanging out with friends is better than sitting at home.
“Sure, why not.”
Twenty-Two
Jenna
Week one AK—after Kenneth—as I’m calling it, is considerably stress-free. No worrying about wedding plans. No discussions with Mom about dress hunting. No stomach distress over covering up the fact that the thought of not marrying Kenneth is the greatest relief, especially when all I can do is think about Brandon. Except—now all I’m doing is fantasizing over Brandon and what his mouth can do to me. Why do I have to be the nice person and do what’s right all the time? Why couldn’t I just go for it with him and say to hell with it? Kenneth did with Horace. But no. I have to be respectful. Or am I? Is it respect, or am I worried about what people will say about me, and am I being disrespectful to Brandon?
My phone buzzes, jarring me from my meandering mind.
“Jenna, what are you doing?”
“Hey, Sam. I’m sitting here feeling sorry for myself.”
“Maybe this’ll perk you up. Guess who I ran into last night.”
“Who? And just so you know. I hate the guessing game.” Cate used to drive me nuts with this, on purpose. And I’d want to kill her.
“Don’t worry. I won’t torture you. I happened to see your friend Brandon. That really hot guy you introduced us to that night we all went out.”
“You did,” I breathe.
“Uh, yeah. And he was looking fine, too. The man can sure wear a pair of jeans.”
“Yeah, he can.” Sam doesn’t know it, but she’s slowly torturing me to death, even though she promised she wouldn’t.
“Did you see him with anyone?” I’m not even sure I want to know the answer.
“Not that I noticed. Too bad you weren’t there.”
“It sure is. But I wasn’t invited.”
“Sorry about that. My friend, Berkeley, called at the last minute. But hey, a bunch of them are going out tonight. You should meet up with them. You met them all, remember?”
“Yeah, I do,” I admit.
“Why don’t I text Berkeley your number and you can figure out a plan. You need to get out. It’ll do you some good.”
Sam is right. Getting out of these four walls that keep closing in on me is what I need—or at least it might help get my mind off things. I give her the go ahead and am actually looking forward to a night with the girls.
We all meet at an up-and-coming bar on upper King Street, and everyone is just ordering a round when I arrive. Berkeley waves me over to their table. As Sam said, we’ve all met before, at parties and, of course, Sam and Ben’s wedding, but a little time has passed since we’ve all seen each other. There’s Hayley, Lauren, Carrie, Britt, and, of course, Berkeley.
Without warning, Berkeley blurts out, “So Sam told us of your predicament, and we’re here to help you drown any sorrows or what you might consider to be feelings of hesitation over going out to have fun.” Everyone, including me, raises our glasses to this.
“Wow. I wasn’t expecting that,” I admit.
Berkeley adds, “She did it again.”
At my perplexed look, she continues. “Sam. She obviously forgot to tell you that I say pretty much whatever comes to mind. So don’t take it personally or to heart. I don’t filter much. And for what it’s worth, you’re much better without the douche. Good thing you caught him fucking around now than after you were married. Better late than never, right?”
Hayley nods, saying, “You can say that again. And that’s coming from someone who likes to fuck around a lot. Well, maybe before the little drummer boy. Now she has a single-track mind. And I mean one boy, namely Kylian.”
“Kylian?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Hayley says. “As in the hot little drummer boy. But in all fairness, he’s not little at all. But I’m of the belief he knows how to wield his stick. Or sticks, I should say.”
All the girls laugh, including Berkeley. “That he does,” she admits with a wink. “And just for the record, I’m not the cheating kind of fucker.”
That gets a laugh out of all of us.
“No, she’s not,” Lauren says. “She’s a faithful fucker, for sure.”
These girls are right up my alley.
Berkeley holds out her hand. “But this isn’t about me. Our girl, Jenna, here, she needs some uplifting. So let’s do some lifting of our glasses to her.” Everyone raises theirs, and we do a toast.
“Hear, hear,” Britt says. “Don’t they say all is fair in love and fucking?”
This group of women makes me laugh, and I find myself smiling more than I can remember lately.
Carrie calls out, “That’s not how it goes. It’s all is fair in love and in bed.”
“Thank God,” Berkeley says. “I thought you were going to say something respectable. For a minute there you had me worried that I was going to have to clean up my act.”
“Impossible,” Lauren declares. “Well, wait. I’m going to retract that because ever since Kylian, you have totally calmed down.”
“I have to check this Kylian out,” I say.
“I don’t think Berkeley will let you get anywhere near him,” Carrie claims. “She’s like a pit bull on steroids when he’s around.”
“I am not,” Berkeley huffs.
All of a sudden Britt leans in and yells, “Hot dude alert! Hot dude alert at one o’clock! Holy mother of all thigh clenchers. Would you get a look at him?”
By this time, I turn to see who the hottie is and find myself ogling the man of my dreams. Brandon stands twenty feet from me, with his employee, Jeff, and the redhead I saw him entangled with in his office. The redhead, who’s wearing a tight black dress that leaves nothing to the imagination, leans into Brandon and says something that makes him laugh. Jeff also laughs. And me? I grab my drink and toss the entire thing back, trying to calm myself, because right now, I want to shove my fist through that woman’s face.
Only didn’t he warn me? Did
n’t he tell me he might not be there waiting for me? And wasn’t I the fool to keep him hanging for all that time? My drink wasn’t enough, so I call the waiter over and order a round of shots and another drink. When they arrive, I down mine, wondering how long it will take the Herradura to calm my emotions, which are scraped raw.
“Jenna, you okay over there?” Berkeley asks.
“Um, yeah, I’m good. Maybe I’ll be better in a while.”
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she says.
“Yeah. You got that right. That’s THE GUY.” Although I haven’t explained it, they get it and nod. “I treated him like a ghost when I should’ve been clear and precise about how I felt toward him. Obviously, I fucked up.” I down my next drink. Berkeley grabs the waiter as he passes by and orders me another round. Then she follows the direction of my gaze.
“Hmm. Is he attached to her?”
“I don’t think so. If he is, it’s happened in the last few days.”
“How badly do you want the man?”
“Very,” I say.
“Do you want him to chase you, or do you want to do the chasing?”
I look her square in the eyes. “Why do you have to ask such complicated questions?”
Berkeley lets out a husky laugh. “Because it all depends on my plan of action for you.”
“Plan of action?”
“Yes, the strategy I’m formulating.”
“Hmm. Okay, let me hear it.”
She holds up her finger and wags it. It’s then I notice all the ears at the table are tuned in. “First you have to give us the lowdown.”
This is difficult because no one—or I should say only a few select—know the truth about Brandon. But the alcohol has given me loose lips, so what the hell. “So yeah, he’s the guy I’ve been lusting after for a couple of years now—but mind you, I have never done a single thing with him, not even kissed the man. He feels the same way, or he used to. And when I broke it off with Kenneth, I told him in a month we would come out of the closet. He was a little pissed because he claims he’s been my shadow man for too long now.”
“Uh, yeah, I’d have to agree,” Berkeley says. The other women nod their agreement, too.
One Wrong Choice (A Cruel and Beautiful Book Book 3) Page 15