Undercover Bromance

by Lyssa Kay Adams

He picked up a pen and twirled it. “You know Royce Preston, right?”

  She fake gagged.

  “I take it that’s a yes.”

  “I only know of him. Why?” She groaned and tilted her head. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of going into business with him or something. I swear to God, I’ll quit. Like, right fucking now.”

  “Mind if I finish what I was saying?”

  “You better, because I will not let you sell your soul like that.”

  He leaned back in his chair. “Just out of curiosity, why?”

  Sonia shrugged. “I don’t know. There’s something about him that makes my vagina want to send out a cease-and-desist email.”

  “Interesting visual.”

  Sonia pointed at her crotch. “The vag doesn’t lie.”

  Given the context of their conversation, it seemed especially inappropriate to be talking about her vag for any reason. “Have you ever heard any actual stories of him, you know . . .”

  She squinted. “What?”

  “You know.”

  “Chaining teenage girls up in his basement? Selling Beanie Babies on eBay? You’re going to have to be more specific.”

  “Sexual harassment.”

  Sonia’s eyes narrowed further. “What is going on?”

  “I just heard a rumor.”

  “About sexual harassment?”

  “Along those lines, yeah.”

  “Wouldn’t surprise me.”

  Well it had surprised him, and that bothered him. How had he missed it? He’d known Royce for, what, five years? And though they weren’t friends by any definition, they ran in the same circles. Played in charity golf tournaments together. Attended the same Chamber of Commerce parties. Rubbed elbows at sporting events. In all that time, he’d never once seen anything that had given him a sexual harasser vibe. Yet Sonia had picked up on it without even knowing the guy. Were women just born with a radar for that kind of thing? Or did they just develop it through life the hard way?

  “Oh shit,” Sonia suddenly breathed.

  He blinked out of his thoughts. “What?”

  “You’re going to do something, aren’t you?”

  “No.”

  “Yes, you are. I know that look.”

  “What look?”

  “The Superman look.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “That you’re about to grab a white horse and race in to save the damsel in distress.”

  Okay, that was the second fucking time in as many days someone had accused him of thinking he was some kind of hero, and it was officially pissing him off. “Don’t you think someone should do something if there’s an asshole out there sexually harassing women?”

  “So you are thinking of doing something.”

  He slammed his pen down. “Yes, dammit, I am.”

  She stood. “Then count me in.”

  “What?”

  “I hate that motherfucker, and that was before I knew I actually had a reason to. So I want in on whatever you plan to do.”

  “I don’t have a plan. But we might need to hire someone else.”

  “For what?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know yet. We’ll make up a job if we have to.”

  She cocked her eyebrow again. “Damsel in distress?”

  He flipped her off. She returned the gesture and then turned to leave.

  “Sonia.”

  She spun around. “What?” She said it with her characteristic whine.

  “The conversation we just had—”

  “I won’t tell anyone.”

  “No, that’s not what I mean. The whole vag thing. Did that make you uncomfortable?”

  “I’m the one who said it.”

  He nodded absently. “I know. I just, sometimes you and I . . . we say things.”

  “We’re friends, Mack. There’s a difference.”

  “You’re sure? I need you to tell me if I’ve ever done or said anything that has made you uncomfortable, because that was never my intent. I mean, I know intent doesn’t matter, impact does, but—”

  “Mack,” she said, her voice as somber as he’d ever heard it. “You are nothing like Royce Preston. You’re probably the best guy I know, and if you ever tell anyone I said that, I will hurt you.”

  He nodded. “Deal.”

  “Want me to shut this when I leave?”

  He nodded again.

  She saluted and walked out. Mack stared at her empty chair for a moment. You are probably the best guy I know. So why did he feel like such a shit? He swiveled in his chair to avoid both the question and the answer.

  He grabbed his phone and dialed his mom’s number. She answered at the last minute, out of breath. “Hey, just a second, okay?”

  Her voice was muffled as she apparently pulled the phone away from her ear to speak to someone. He made out the words, “They’re beautiful. Thank you so much.”

  “Who was that?” he asked when she came back on the line.

  “A florist.”

  Mack’s own radar went on alert. “Who sent you flowers?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t looked at the card.”

  She was being cagey. He hated it when she was cagey. “Why don’t you look and tell me.”

  “You know, Braden, I appreciate how much you look out for me, but just because I’m your mother doesn’t mean I’m not entitled to some privacy.”

  He bristled under the admonishment and the use of his first name. His family were the only people who used it. “Did you get the plane ticket?”

  “Yes. Thank you, honey.”

  “I’ll send you several more listings that my real estate guy found that I think you’ll like.”

  “Sounds . . . great. How many?”

  “Six I think.”

  “I’m sure they’re . . . great.”

  She was being cagey again. “What’s wrong, Mom?”

  “Nothing. Why do you ask?”

  “You sound weird.”

  “Just tired. Listen, I gotta run. Call you tomorrow?”

  “Um, okay. Check your email for the listings.”

  “Yep. Love you, sweetie.”

  And she hung up. What the hell? Mack pulled the phone away and stared at the blank screen. His mother had just hung up on him. And had gotten flowers from someone.

  There was a quick knock at his door, and Sonia poked her head inside.

  “Chin hair?”

  For fuck’s sake.

  * * *

  * * *

  Nearly every table at the university coffee shop was occupied when Liv and Mack walked in shortly before four. Professors chatted with students. College kids huddled around laptops and textbooks. A handful of bleary-eyed students clutched steaming lattes as if praying for salvation.

  “Smells like slow-roasted hangover in here,” Mack said, settling his hand on her back as they walked in.

  Liv jumped at his touch, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. He pointed to a table by the window. “We can watch the entire place from over there.”

  Liv scanned the large open space as she sat. “I don’t see her yet.”

  “You want something to drink?”

  “Yes, God. I need caffeine.” She pulled her wallet from her purse, but he held up his hand.

  “I got it. What do you want?”

  “I can buy my own coffee.”

  “I’m sure you can, but this one’s on me.”

  She jutted her jaw to the side and thought about continuing the argument. But he would just argue back, and she was too drained. “Vanilla latte. Big. Thank you.”

  He nodded. “Be right back.”

  She followed him with her eyes to the counter, where he flashed a smile that had the young ba
rista blushing and stammering in two seconds flat. He returned to the table a few minutes later, carrying two cardboard cups—one with a phone number scribbled on the side.

  Liv rolled her eyes. “She’s a little young for you, isn’t she?”

  Mack looked at his cup as if noticing the numbers for the first time. He shrugged. “Happens all the time.”

  “You’re shameless.”

  “I can’t help it if I was born with natural charisma.”

  “You were born full of shit.”

  Mack shook his head. “Drink your coffee. You’re cranky.”

  Liv took a sip and groaned. The first hit of caffeine was always the best. She opened her eyes to find Mack smirking at her.

  “You need some time alone with that thing?”

  “If I say yes, will you go away?”

  His quiet chuckle had the same effect as the coffee—it made her heart pound a little faster.

  “How’d you find out where we’d find Jessica?” she asked after a moment.

  “I have a friend who’s good with computers.”

  Liv’s spine went rigid. “Wait a minute. Did you tell someone about Royce?”

  “No. Just that I needed to find someone.”

  She hunched in her chair. “Are you lying?”

  “Jesus,” he breathed.

  “Because I hate liars.”

  His eyebrow twitched. “Noted.”

  Liv sat back again and stared at the door. When the door opened and a stream of students filed in, Liv held her breath as she searched the small crowd. But still no Jessica.

  “Did you go to college?” she asked after several awkwardly quiet moments.

  Mack sipped his coffee. “Nope. You?”

  “Just culinary school.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Just? From what I understand, it’s not exactly an easy program to finish.”

  His words pleased her more than she wanted to admit. “How’d you learn about running a business if you didn’t go to college?”

  “You don’t need a degree to be a successful businessman.”

  “Did you not want to go to college?”

  He draped an ankle across the other knee. “Is this a normal conversation we’re about to have?”

  “Not if you’re going to be like that.”

  He took another sip before answering. “I couldn’t afford college. I probably could’ve gotten a loan, but that never made a lot of sense to me.”

  Liv nodded. Nearly all of her friends from high school who’d gone to college were now faced with massive debt. Which was fine if they ended up with great jobs that paid the bills, but that wasn’t yet the case for a lot of her friends.

  “You probably could’ve gotten a scholarship, though. You’re smart.”

  Mack covered his heart with his hand. “That’s the first honest-to-God compliment I’ve ever gotten from you. I’m touched.”

  “Telling someone they’re smart is not a compliment. It’s just a statement of fact.”

  He looked at the ceiling as if praying for patience. “Why do you argue every single thing I say?”

  “Does it drive you crazy?”

  “Yes.”

  “There’s your answer.”

  “What about you,” he asked. “Why a pastry chef?”

  A pang of something she didn’t like struck her in the feels. “I liked baking with my grandma.”

  “That wasn’t so hard, now was it?”

  She rolled her eyes again.

  “This was the grandma you and Thea lived with for a while?”

  Her head snapped up so fast, she was surprised she didn’t pull a muscle. “How do you know about that?”

  “Gavin mentioned it once. He said you and Thea lived with her for a while after your parents’ divorce.”

  “Gavin talks too much.”

  “Why’d you live with her?”

  She shook her head. “Your turn.”

  He spread his arms wide. “Ask me anything.”

  “Why’d you start reading romance novels?”

  “My mom used to read them. When I discovered they had sex in them, I started sneaking them to my bed at night.”

  She waved a hand. “Gross. I don’t want to know anymore.”

  “I had to throw a couple of way because, you know . . .”

  Liv faked a gag. “Teenage boys are so gross.”

  “It ain’t easy. One day you’ve got this interesting thing hanging between your legs that lets you piss outside and write your name in the snow, and the next it’s controlling your every thought.”

  “Yes, poor men, can’t use their brains because all the blood goes straight to their dicks.”

  He peered at her through narrowed eyes. “Do you really hate men?”

  “Yes.”

  “Really?”

  “No. But I should. I’ve never met one worth trusting.”

  He tilted his head. “Not even Gavin?”

  “Gavin might be the only one. And maybe Hop. But that’s it.”

  “What about your father?”

  Liv smiled. “Your turn.”

  He lifted an eyebrow. “Subtle.”

  She took a sip of her coffee. “How’d you get the money to open a club so young?”

  “Dang, that’s personal.”

  “You just told me that you used to jerk off to romance novels as a teenager.”

  “True.” He leaned back in his chair. “I got lucky, basically.”

  “Win the lottery or something?”

  “Sort of. I was working as a bouncer for an older man. He was looking to retire, didn’t have any kids of his own, decided to help me out.”

  “And you turned that into four major nightclubs?”

  “Yes.”

  “That doesn’t sound like luck. That sounds like hard work and smart management.”

  “Did you just compliment me again?”

  Liv stood with an annoyed groan. “And now I regret it.”

  Mack made a big play of patting his pockets. “I need a pen. I need to document this moment.”

  The door swung open again, and Liv sucked in a breath. Jessica. She looked like every other college girl in the place in her yoga pants and oversize sweatshirt. The one main difference was the haunted look in her eyes. Her shoulders literally hunched under the weight of her backpack and, probably, the secret she was carrying.

  Mack followed her gaze. “That’s her?”

  Liv nodded.

  Mack’s fingers tightened on his cup. “Christ, she’s young.”

  They watched silently as Jessica approached the counter to order. She hoisted her backpack higher on one shoulder, and as she did, her eyes scanned the coffee shop, presumably for an open table. Liv tensed in anticipation of the moment Jessica spotted her, but the girl’s eyes scanned over her as if she didn’t notice or didn’t recognize Liv.

  Probably the latter. It was amazing how many people didn’t recognize her when she put on her chef’s hat, so it only made sense that Jessica wouldn’t recognize her out of it. The barista called her name, and Jessica picked up her coffee. There was an open table toward the back by the hallway to the bathrooms.

  Liv watched for another minute as Jessica got settled at the table, pulled out her laptop and a notebook, and took a sip of her coffee.

  “How are we going to do this?” Mack asked.

  “Let me talk to her first. I’ll wave at you when you can come over.”

  She set her coffee down and stood. A sudden wave of nerves brought a shaky breath from her chest. Mack reached over and gripped her hand. “You okay?”

  “Fine.” She pulled her hand back, not so much because she disliked the feel of his fingers on hers but because she liked it too much.

  She was nearly all the way
to Jessica’s table before the girl noticed. Up close, recognition came fast. Jessica’s eyes widened. “What are you doing here?”

  “Can I sit down?” Liv asked, motioning to the open chair.

  Jessica’s eyes darted about. “I can’t talk to you.”

  “No one knows I’m here.”

  “How’d you find me?”

  “I just want to talk,” Liv said.

  “What do you want?” Jessica’s tone was frantic, not rude.

  “To make sure you’re all right.”

  Jessica’s eyes sparked.

  “You’re right,” Liv said, claiming the chair. “Stupid thing to say.”

  “I have to study,” Jessica complained.

  “I want to help you.”

  “There’s nothing to help with. I told you there was nothing going on.” The tremble in her fingers as she clutched her pen said otherwise.

  “I know what I heard and what I saw. I also know that you’re terrified.”

  “I just want you to leave me alone.”

  “I can’t. Not until I make Royce pay for what he did. What he has probably done before.”

  Jessica’s eyes widened, her earlier suspicion replaced by outright panic. “How?”

  Good question. “I’m working on it.”

  Jessica shook her head and started packing up her things. “Just leave it alone.”

  “I’m going to protect you. I promise. I just want you to know that you don’t have to put up with this.”

  Jessica’s lip trembled. “My mom is so proud that I work there. I-I’m the first person in my family to go to college, and when I got this job, my mom told everyone. I can’t tell her about this. If I quit, she’ll want to know why, and—”

  “Your mother would not want you to have to endure what Royce is doing to you.”

  Jessica bit her lip again as if to stave off tears. “Please. Just leave me alone.”

  She stood. Liv reached out and grasped her wrist. “Wait.”

  Jessica stopped but refused to look at Liv.

  “What if you had another job to go to? Would you at least consider leaving?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You see that man over there?” Liv turned and pointed at Mack. He lifted a hand in a casual, friendly wave and then stood. “He’s a friend. If you’re worried about money, he will give you a job.”

  Jessica sat back down as Mack approached. He stopped a respectful distance away and extended his hand. “Braden Mack.”