“Sorry?”
“Well, you’ve been here a long time. You would’ve thought you’d pick up an accent.”
“Not necessarily,” Marco replied. “Uncle Gio has been here years and refuses to give up his accent.”
That’s right. I refused to give up my accent. It had nothing to do with the fact that I’d spent the last eight years without any real companionship here in Edinburgh.
“Jocelyn,” Braden cut in, looking impatient, “may we talk? Alone?”
There was an awkward silence while his family exchanged concerned looks. As for me, my heart was ready to burst out of my chest like that awful scene in Alien.
But in true Ripley style, I tried to be brave.
Braden led me outside of the room. My palms were sweaty. “I wanted to check if you’re okay,” he said. “What, with Ellie misleading you.”
I was not okay.
But it wasn’t because of Ellie, although, Jesus Christ, she’d blindsided me.
No, I wasn’t okay because Braden was standing much too close. The smell of his cologne not only invoked memories of our passionate night together but reminded me of all the times over the last few months when I’d passed a man on the street or stood next to a guy in a coffee shop who was wearing Braden’s same cologne. It reminded me of how desolate I felt.
It reminded me how much I felt like a failure.
I’d let my fears win when it mattered the most for me to beat them.
And I’d lost out big.
My loss was standing in front of me, looking way too sexy and unavailable.
“I can leave,” I said.
Braden scowled. “No. Don’t.”
“I’m sorry about Ellie. I went back and forth about whether I should pursue a friendship with her, in case it was weird for you. She’s …”
“She’s Ellie.” He smiled, a mixture of affection and irritation. “It’s hard not to love her.”
“Right.” I looked over my shoulder, down the corridor, down at my feet, and shuffled a little. I looked anywhere but at him. Finally, the awkward silence became too much and I glanced up at him.
He stared directly into my eyes and I had to fight my body’s sudden response to fall into him.
“How have you been?”
“Fine,” I replied. “You?”
My reply caused another scowl but he nodded. “Fine, too.”
“How’s Abby?”
“She’s fine.”
I shuffled again, wishing I didn’t want to tear off his clothes and run away at the same time. “Ellie told me that Kiersten has been causing problems.”
“Yes.” His gaze sharpened. “But I’ll sort it out. I always do.”
“Right.”
After our pitiful attempt at conversation, there were no more words. Words were useless in this situation. Instead we found ourselves unable to look anywhere but at each other, and within seconds, our staring contest unlocked all the words hidden between us.
I miss you, his eyes said.
I miss you, too, said mine.
Silence.
And then … I’m trying to change, move through my issues. Does it count?
I wish things were different, his said. I wish we were both in the same place. You have no idea how much.
Feeling my heart break at his silent reply, I struggled to find real, actual words that would get me away from him. However, thankfully, I didn’t need to because suddenly Ellie was there, my unexpected rescuer.
“Joss, there you are!” She burst through the door, looking between me and her brother speculatively. “I’ve been looking for you. Come,” she grabbed my wrist, “I want you to meet someone.”
I let her haul me back inside without a backward glance at Braden. What was I expecting? That Braden would abruptly decide to give me another shot because I’d told one person (not even him!) about my family? That he would forget the fact that I’d screamed at him to get off me after he’d made love to me because I was wearing hot shoes?
Fuck.
“Joss, this is John. He was Declan’s tutor. Guitar. He’s also a musician. In a band. That books actual gigs.” Ellie grinned at me, full of mischief.
I couldn’t believe it.
She was trying to match me up with another man less than thirty minutes after trying to reunite me with Braden.
Realizing her craziness was not John’s fault, I held out my hand. “Nice to meet you.”
John grinned at me. “Nice to meet you, too.”
“Oh, Mum is looking for me. I’ll be right back.” Ellie disappeared, leaving me standing by the dance floor with a guy who was at least five years younger than me.
“Why isn’t your band playing tonight?”
His boyish smile was endearing, I had to admit, and he was a blond. Shaggy hair, scruffy stubble, leather bracelets on his thick wrists, corded arms, and clothes that said, “I couldn’t give a fuck what I’m wearing.”
“We don’t play birthdays.”
“Too cool?” I teased.
“Nah, we …” He shrugged. “Oh, all right. Aye. But it’s not me,” he hurried to assure me. “Our lead singer is kind of a pretentious arsehole.”
“I see a long future for you together.”
He laughed. “Aye, maybe not. So what do you do, Joss?”
“I’m a writer.”
“A writer.” John stepped into my space, flirtatiousness glittering in his dark eyes. “A writer and a musician. I see a long future together in that.”
I guffawed at his cheesiness and he grinned, pleased with himself. “Seriously?” I wiped tears from my eyes.
“I made you laugh, didn’t I?”
I suppose he had.
And like that, I was distracted.
I needed to be distracted.
***
The truth was I talked with John because it meant I didn’t have to stand with Braden and his family. It also provided the bonus of putting my back to their table so I didn’t have to look at him, either.
On any other occasion John and I would not have made it past the two-minute mark. He was cute and nice enough, but he was young and very into himself and his music.
That was fair enough but there were only so many times I could hear him use the words, “Art is everything, you know.” He expanded upon this by listing the arts and their contributions to the world, like I was some pod person who didn’t know people found beauty in music, sculpture, and writing.
Maybe I was too mature. Or too cynical. Or maybe I didn’t need to be beat around the head by someone’s passion. Talking with John was like talking to a teenager. There’s nothing quite like a teenager with an all-encompassing passion for something.
Huh.
Maybe I shouldn’t mock John for his immature passion.
Maybe I should feel sad for the majority of us who lose that wonderfully obsessive, utterly dedicated energy to that special thing that makes us happy.
On that note, I decided to say yes when John asked me to dance.
The indie band was playing a slow song and I noted a few couples on the dance floor. Ellie waved at me from her husband’s arms and in noticing her, I made the mistake of noticing Braden who was behind her.
Dancing with a woman I didn’t recognize.
A tall, perfectly coifed redhead.
It was like being punched in the gut.
One hand was on her waist, the other holding her free hand, while her other was on his shoulder. They weren’t pressed together, just swaying gently to the music as they chatted. Yet seeing him touching another woman made me feel like I’d walked in on my husband screwing someone else.
I was ridiculous and melodramatic and blowing things way out of proportion.
And I realized John wasn’t the only one with an all-encompassing passion th
at usually dies out in adulthood.
I had one too.
His name was Braden Carmichael.
Sucking in my breath, I forced myself to look up at John. His fingers dug into my waist and he gently pulled me closer. In a daze, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and began to sway.
As it turned out, John was also kind of a groper. It was about a minute into the band’s number when his hand slid down my lower back and over my ass.
I tensed and raised my eyebrow at him. “Really?”
He grinned that boyish grin. “You have a nice arse.”
“You need working fingers to play the guitar, right?”
In less than zero point three seconds his hand was off my ass.
“Excuse me,” I gave him a chiding glance and pulled out of his hold, “I need to use the restroom.”
Being threatened by a woman obviously wasn’t something that turned John on because he shrugged and sauntered off the dance floor, his phone already out of his pocket. I shook my head to myself as I watched him text someone as if he hadn’t just felt up a stranger.
What happened to romancing a girl before squeezing her ass?
I thought of Braden as I wandered down the corridor. True, he had been forward with his dirty talk but he’d always been a gentleman. He didn’t feel me up until our third date, and considering the heat between us, I deemed that great restraint on his part.
I mean, if it had been up to me I’d have let Braden feel me up that first night after the opera.
That was the point though, right?
John wasn’t Braden.
No one was Braden.
He was one of a kind.
And I …
I was in love with him.
Tears burned my eyes as I pushed open the door to the first ladies’ restroom I’d been able to find. To my surprise, it was empty and I wondered if perhaps there was a restroom closer to the hall. I didn’t have time to wonder long, however, because the door had barely closed behind me when it swung open again and Braden appeared.
Staring up at him in shock, I watched as he turned the lock on the door.
“Braden …”
My breath caught as he strode menacingly toward me, and I backed up against the sink counter. Why did he look so pissed? Turned on, but also pissed. “First, you turn up here wearing that dress so all I can think about is pulling on that fucking nothing bit of tie holding it closed, and then you flirt and dance with some wannabe rocker fifteen years my junior.” He placed his hands on the counter at either side of my hips, trapping me. “What the fuck kind of game are you playing?”
I pushed against his chest to no avail, my own anger rising. “You can stop right there. First off, Ellie set me up, remember? Second off, Ellie set me up again with wannabe rocker guy, and third, I wasn’t flirting with him. And fourth, what the hell do you care? You were dancing with someone, too.”
If it was even possible, his face got a whole lot cloudier. I stepped back involuntarily. “You were flirting with him,” he practically growled. “And I wanted to rip his fucking hands off.”
I shoved harder at his chest, but he only pressed into my hands like a damn concrete block. “Braden, move. This isn’t what you want. Remember.”
I watched some of the fury melt from his expression, his hands coming up to grip my hips tight to his. My breath stuttered at the feel of his erection rubbing against me, but I wasn’t surprised. There was something electric between us, and it was really confusing being this angry at each other and this turned on all at the same time. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I wish I could. Sometimes I wish I’d never met you.”
I huffed, hurt. “Then back the fuck off.”
At my scathing tone, Braden’s mouth hardened. I found myself pushed up onto the counter as Braden grasped the back of my thighs and lifted my legs, pressing in between them as he tugged on the tie holding my dress shut. I clutched at him for balance, the counter cold against my backside, as my dress opened, revealing my underwear. Braden’s eyes blazed as they drank me in and I found I couldn’t say no. Maybe if I let this happen between us, he’d see I couldn’t let him go and maybe we could take one more shot at it.
He crushed my lips beneath his at the exact same time he tore my underwear off, his kiss as possessive and hungry as I remembered. As I drowned in his kiss, I heard the sound of a zipper.
Then I gasped as he thrust his dick inside of me. My back naturally arched into his strokes as he gripped me high by the back of the thighs and pounded into me over and over, my cries of pleasure echoing off the restroom tiles. His own grunts were muffled as he buried his face in my neck. I writhed on the counter, my body completely in Braden’s control. The torture was exquisite, and the orgasm tore through me in record time.
Braden wasn’t done. As I came down off my orgasm, I watched him as he pulled back to watch me as he ground into me, chasing his own climax. I could feel another orgasm building. When Braden came, he threw his head back, his teeth gritted, the muscles in his neck straining as his hips jerked against me. The feel of him coming inside of me, the image of his face in release, was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen, and I cried out, my sex pulsing around his cock as I came again.
Our labored breaths were the only sounds in the restroom.
As the thrill of climax began to fade enough to allow cognizance of our situation, a chill fell over me and goosebumps prickled my skin. The air in the room changed.
Because I knew …
I knew as soon as I lifted my gaze to this that he was going to hurt me.
“Jocelyn,” he said gruffly as he pulled out of me. He zipped himself up and reached to cover me but I pushed his hands away and slid off the counter.
My underwear were bunched up on the floor and I bent quickly to pull them on and hastily tied my dress shut.
“Jocelyn.”
Finally I looked up at him.
He stared at me regretfully.
“Don’t,” I said.
“I shouldn’t have.” He ignored me. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have, but I’m like a man possessed when it comes to you.”
“But you shouldn’t have,” I repeated.
“Babe, nothing has really changed. Except that now it looks as though Abby will be with me full-time, which means the woman I bring into her life has to be someone she can count on.”
“I’m not some unstable mental case,” I snapped.
He glared at me. “That’s not what I fucking meant and you know it.”
“What if I said I was ready to be serious with you?”
“Whatever is going on with you, Jocelyn, it makes you unreliable. We’ve got too much shit going on already …”
“So you’re going to wait around for some together, mature, steady woman who can eventually be the kind of stepmom Abby deserves.”
Braden narrowed his eyes at my sneering tone. “Don’t make this ugly.”
“I’m not making it ugly.” I strode by him and unlocked the door.
Then I realized that walking out of there without telling him how I felt was being cowardly all over again. So I looked back at him.
He stood staring at the ground, his hand clasped on the back of his neck.
“And if you find this steady, mature, together woman,” I said, and he turned to look at me, his expression blazing with frustration, “you know she’ll pander to you, right? You’re intimidating, Braden. You’re an alpha dog and you want things your way. But no one should have everything their own way. It’s boring. And it’ll make you an asshole. Whoever you pick … she’ll never challenge you. She’ll never drive you crazy. She’ll never bring you down to earth when you need it. And she’ll never know when you really need support, because she’s so busy agreeing with everything you say and do that she’ll miss what everything you say and do says about you. Sure, s
he’ll get that you’re a good dad. Anybody can see that. But she won’t get that you’re willing to sacrifice your happiness for your kid, and that makes you the best dad. She’ll get that you’re confident, but she won’t get that you can also be arrogant—and that is sexy as much as it is frustrating.
“She’ll even know how good in bed you are, but I wonder if she’ll know what it’s like to look into your eyes while you’re inside her and feel the ecstasy and terror that comes with realizing you just met the man you want inside you forever.”
He stared at me in heated wonder.
“And she’ll get that you’re successful, but she won’t get that you’re successful because you’re searching for something that seems always out of reach. And the reason I know that’s how you feel is because I feel the same way. And maybe Braden … maybe right now in this moment, we’re both looking into the eyes of what we’ve been searching for our whole lives.
“Or maybe,” I smiled sadly, “maybe I’m just in that one alone.”
I waited for him to say something.
Anything.
But all I saw was the way his hands clenched into fists, the way the muscle ticked in his jaw, and how his eyes darkened with a thousand different emotions.
I didn’t see relief or determination or certainty.
I didn’t see a lover succumbing to seduction.
I saw a father struggling to make the right decision.
“Fuck, I shouldn’t have.” He apologized gesturing to the sink. “I really shouldn’t have. I seem to lose control where you’re concerned. Because as fucking wonderful all you said to me was, it’s words, Jocelyn. I need actions. If we did get back together, I wouldn’t want you spending any time with Abby until I’m sure about us.”
That hurt. That really goddamn hurt. I tried to understand his reasoning. “For how long?”
“For as long as it takes me to be sure.”
My hurt spilled out of me before I could stop myself. “I get that you’re protecting her, Braden, but do you know how fucking scary it was for me to stand there and say all that to you?”
“Yes.” He stepped toward me, reaching for me, and then pulling his hand back into a fist. “Yes, and all I want to do is bury myself inside you right now. I want to bury myself inside you forever, Jocelyn, and it scares the shit out of me because I don’t think you’re capable of forever.”