Why had he attended the concert tonight? It’d made everything worse.
A day before, he’d convinced himself it would be about moving on—which meant he would hang with Stephanie, who Andrew had been convinced was perfect for him. But then he’d also stepped it up a notch so he could see Jordan again, only this time with her date. This way he could check out his competition, or better yet, forget about her after he saw her with the douche who was taking her away.
And it had been a great plan until he met Stephanie, who wasn’t at all his type, and ended the evening by watching Jordan leave with Greg, not him.
Jordan wanted Greg, not him. Why was that so hard to swallow?
In any other situation, it would be fine, because he didn’t mess around with girls who weren’t single. But Jordan was . . . different. Jordan was supposed to be his, not Greg’s, not anyone else’s.
The ice slid forward in the glass and hit his lips as he finished his drink. He set the tumbler on the bar, waiting for the bartender’s attention.
“Wow, you’re quite the drinker,” Stephanie observed. She licked her lips as he signaled the bartender over. “I’ll still take care of you, if you want. I really want to.”
Her meaning wasn’t lost on him, as she’d mentioned twice now how she wanted to blow him before the night was over.
“How do you know Andrew?” he asked.
“I don’t—well, not really. I’ve known Sarah for a while, though. I go to her yoga classes in Newport.”
“Well, good thing you’re beautiful,” Brandon said, mentally threatening Andrew for passing off his wingman duties to his girlfriend.
Stephanie blushed. “Thank you. Are you from here?”
“Yes, I’ve traveled quite a bit, but I like it here the most. It suits me. So tell me, how long have you been single?” Brandon oozed some charm her way.
If Jordan was going to go fuck Greg, it was only fair that he enjoy his night too. His face heated in fury at the thought of Greg snuggling up with Jordan in her bed.
For Pete’s sake, what was his problem?
“To be honest, I just got out of a relationship,” Stephanie said, intertwining her fingers. “But let’s not talk about that. We could have some fun together.”
Sounded like she was still hung up on the guy, trying to get over him. But she was single now. Dark liquid sloshed around the ice cubes in his glass as he lifted it to his lips. Oh shit, Jordan. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? She’d never divulged much about her ex besides what he’d said about her hair. Could she still be hung up on him? But now she seemed okay dating Greg. Had he been her rebound guy? That didn’t make sense since they hadn’t even fucked.
Sarah and Andrew walked up to the bar.
“I’m going to the bathroom. Wanna come with?” Sarah asked Stephanie, who perkily hopped off the barstool, leaving him to scowl at Andrew.
“Dude, what the fuck?”
Andrew laughed. “I’m sorry. Sarah wanted to help.”
Brandon shook his head. “You’re a dick. And you’re permanently fired from wingman duties.”
He turned to see that Jordan hadn’t left the bar yet, but was still standing close to the exit with Sam, Jay, Adrianna, and Greg’s buddy. Greg looped his arm around Jordan’s waist, and she leaned into his body. Then she kissed him on the mouth—naturally, like they’d done it many times. His blood boiled. What the fuck? Cringing, he calculated how long she’d been dating Greg. Was she going to sleep with him, like she’d rubbed in his face earlier?
Wait a minute.
“She’s not nervous around him,” he said, and Andrew followed his gaze.
“Should she be? I mean, he seems like a decent dude. Wait, don’t tell me you’re trying to get her? You would have fucked by now. It’s been what? Over a month since you met her?”
“I don’t know, dude. It’s whatever,” he said, though his mind wanted to throw a temper tantrum like he wasn’t a grown-ass man.
Brandon’s level of productivity dramatically reduced over the next few days as he kept a low profile and avoided people, even more than he had the week before. But on his way home from kickboxing, Jordan called. He was still pissed about her dating Greg and didn’t want to talk to her, but he answered for the hell of it.
“I’m coming over,” she announced. “Are you home?”
Taken aback, he replied, “I’m about to be, why?”
“I’ll tell you when I get there.” Then the line went dead.
The gym had worn him out like he’d wanted, and he hadn’t planned on seeing anyone tonight, but he went home, took a quick shower, and threw on a pair of black sweatpants.
When Jordan got to his house, she was wearing a white tank top, skinny jeans, her glasses, and a messy ponytail. Somehow her casual look was more sultry than when she was in her pristine work attire.
She’s your friend, she doesn’t want you, and she’s taken, he reminded himself.
She hesitated, eyeing his chest. “You’re not wearing a shirt.”
“I know.” He shrugged. “I’m in my house where I barely ever wear a shirt. Does it bother you?”
She blinked and scratched her forearm. “No.”
It bothers her. “Fine, then what’s going on?” he asked, hoping she wasn’t here to talk about Greg. Because so help him—
“That’s what I’m here to ask you. Can I come in?” Jordan slid by him and into the foyer.
“By all means,” he said, following her.
She sat on the sofa sectional and tapped the cushion next to her; he sat, intrigued by her strange behavior.
“What’s going on? You’re making me nervous, and I don’t get nervous.”
“Well, you should be. You haven’t visited your mom since . . . Damian.”
Huffing, he sprang off the cushion. She’d dipped a finger right into his sore, and it hurt like a bitch. “What the fuck? Is that why you’re here? How did you know that?”
“Because your dad called me. He said the employees have been saying how different you are at work—upset all the time and canceling your meetings.” She looked up at him, pity brimming in her eyes. “He also said you haven’t visited your mom, and you’ve been avoiding her calls, and his.”
Thoughts of his lonely and ill mother constricted his chest, reminding him it was only a matter of time before he’d attend another funeral.
“Brandon, talk to me,” Jordan ordered.
But he stepped back.
“No,” he said, hurrying to the front door, his emotions straining to come out, threatening to free themselves whether he allowed it or not. She needed to go now. “I don’t know what gave my father the right to call you, out of all my friends, but you need to leave.”
“No,” she said, crossing her legs. “I’m not leaving until you talk to me.”
“Talk to you? What do you want me to say? Does your boyfriend even know you’re here? I’m sure he can’t wait to be balls deep in his woman after work.” Bitterness continued to seep from his lips like venom. “Go be with him, because apparently he’s good enough for you to fuck after a week, when you barely wanted to kiss me after a month. So really, Jordan, I don’t know what the fuck you’re doing here, but I don’t want your pity.”
Her mouth dropped open, but she recovered. “There’s nothing you can say to me that will make me leave. I care about you.”
Rising from the couch, she meandered toward him, and there was nothing he could do to escape her as she pushed his buttons, one by one.
“Everyone was crying at the funeral, Brandon. Everyone but you. People cry when they lose someone they love. Have you cried at all since Damian died?”
She stopped a few feet in front of him. He vowed to run from his own damn house if she pushed him to face what he wasn’t ready to.
“No, Jordan. Not everyone cries, okay?”
“So are you trying to tell me you’re so strong, so freaking invincible and heartless that you don’t need to cry? You don’t feel anything?”
As her reproachful voice broke through his armor, he turned his back to her, needing to rub the ache in his chest. He knew where she was heading with this argument, and he hated every excruciating second of it. He should have left when he had the energy; now his body was stilled by her words.
“Not everyone smokes and drinks their feelings away either,” she continued. “It’s not going to bring him back. You may not want to show me or anyone else your heart, but it’s not fair to your mother. I’ve seen how you are with her, and Brandon, she needs you. I went to see her today after your dad called, and she was asking for you. I didn’t know what to tell her.”
Jordan’s last words were so low and imploring he turned around, but it was the wrong move as he saw unshed tears glistening in her eyes.
His breathing wavered, and he tried to swallow the lump advancing in his throat. “Jordan, please.”
She took a step closer. “Did you give up on her? Is that why you stopped going? Brandon, talk to me. Please?”
He shook his head and looked to the other side of the room as a hot tear scorched a path from his eye. All he had to do was look at her, and he would break. It was a long fight, but it was time to quit while he was ahead; it was over. He’d never felt so weak, defeated.
“I know you’re scared. But she’s here. Your mother is here. Damian isn’t, not anymore, and you have to accept that.”
And that was it. His mouth gasped for air as tears rolled down his face. The pain he’d locked inside since he’d lost his friend gripped every organ in his body and sliced them open. He wanted to crumble to the floor. But he couldn’t, he had to be strong for a little longer. Moving to the couch, he dropped down and hunched over, weaving his hands through his hair, then pressing his palms to his temple.
“Brandon?” Jordan’s soft voice made him want to cry more because he knew her chamber held more bullets.
So did his wicked thoughts. Unarmored, he couldn’t stand it. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing his mom, especially after losing his friend. His body tensed, preparing for the weight of the world to descend on him. He felt it edging closer until it was final. The dark place he’d been dodging rested on his chest, and he let it. Because it was time.
He didn’t know when she approached, but his voice broke through sobs as she touched him. “Don’t say anything. Please.”
She climbed onto the sofa, and the cushions dipped as she kneeled and wrapped her arms around him. He was immobile, but his chest jerked as the tears continued. Time stopped, freezing him in an excruciating place as Jordan pressed his head to her chest and combed her fingers through his hair. Her small hands rubbed his bare shoulders in comfort. And it was minutes later that the tears stopped flowing.
She repositioned, lying on her side against the back of the sofa and pulling him to lie in front of her. He couldn’t look at her, so he stared at the ceiling, fucking mortified. He’d cried years ago, but not in front of anyone. And as Jordan used her hand to wipe his cheeks, her gentleness was the undoing of anything he’d been planning to hold on to.
“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered.
“You don’t know that.” He swallowed, biting his lip.
“You’re right; I don’t. But I’ve been through enough to know that you’ll get through it.”
He glanced at her, remembering she’d lost her father as a teenager. “We were joking around at the gym earlier that day, like we always did. I don’t understand it. One moment he’s here, and the next he’s just gone. Forever. I can’t lose my mom now. So I figured if I stayed away and didn’t visit her as much, I would grow detached and not . . .” He let out a breath and shook his head, not wanting to say what might create more tears.
“Miss her,” Jordan finished, brushing his hair back and kissing his temple. “I know. You may not realize this, but I know you, Brandon Kuvat. It’s why I’m here right now.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not like most guys.”
She smiled. “I know, you’re worse. Much worse.”
His smile was faint but there as he recalled their conversation from weeks before. “I’m sure you also know I don’t like you a lot of times.”
“Ditto.”
Brandon brought her hand to his mouth and placed a soft kiss on the back. “By the way, you are good at this. Thank you.” His fingers toyed with hers as he talked about his late friend. “I’d known him since high school. He was like family, like the brother I never had—both him and Andrew. Andrew was the good kid, though. Damian and I would get into all kinds of trouble—detention and suspension in school at the same time like clockwork . . . He would be livid with me right now.”
“Why?” Jordan asked.
“I just cried in front of you. I’ve never felt so powerless in my life.”
“Shhh . . . it’ll be our secret then,” Jordan whispered, and he smiled. She pulled a cushion beneath her head and wrapped an arm around his chest. How could one woman have such an impact on his mood? He covered her arm with his much bigger one, and she stiffened, like she did every time he touched her.
“Why do you get so nervous around me?”
“Probably because you’re not wearing a shirt.”
Brandon chuckled. “Oh, right, about that—I just wanted to piss your boyfriend off, even though he’s not here.”
“Uh-huh, and the arrogance is back. That didn’t take long.” Jordan tried to push away from him, but he tugged her back to his body. “Oh my gosh. Brandon!”
“I’ve shared a part of myself with you tonight. At least give me an honest answer,” he said before releasing her. “Why do you get nervous around me? And don’t give me some BS about my shirt being off, because we both know you react the same way when I’m fully clothed.”
Jordan got up and moved a safe distance away on the sofa. “It’s nothing. I . . .” Staring at the blank television screen, she sighed. “I haven’t been touched in a while.”
Sitting up and placing his bare foot on the oversized ottoman, he studied her as she nibbled on her nail. “But Greg—you don’t seem nervous around him.”
Jordan sighed. “Well, before him there was no one else for a while, and I don’t know, you’re like a trigger. You know what you’re doing. Greg is . . . He’s a good guy. He doesn’t tease me like that.”
Teasing and riling someone up before sex was better known as foreplay. Greg didn’t do foreplay? That couldn’t be fun for her. He mused over what she’d said. No one else for a while?
“Would you like some water?” he asked, standing up. “Though you don’t deserve it since you just clarified that you used me as a rebound.”
“What? No, I didn’t,” Jordan said, following him to the kitchen and leaning against the counter. “You did help me let go of some things that stopped me from dating a long time ago, but is that so terrible?”
“When you put it that way . . . you’re welcome,” he simpered, handing her a bottle of water. “But you should learn to control your reaction to me, because I know how anti-ego-building you are when it comes to me, and your responses aren’t helping. Plus, it’s too fun, especially when I can put on a show for everyone.”
“That would explain the bar. By the way, how did it go with Stephanie?”
Brandon turned on the television and plopped back down on the couch. “Do you want to stay and hang?”
“I can, but only if you put a shirt on.”
“I thought it didn’t bother you,” he teased. “Out of curiosity, and since we’re long past not talking about sex, how long had it been before Greg?”
Her cheeks flushed. “Why are you interested?”
“We’re friends. I promise I’m not trying to make a move on you. I respect relationships.”
When she said nothing, he grabbed his phone and responded to some of the messages Kelly had sent him earlier. After his not so great night with Stephanie, he’d contacted her and met up for a drink, giving her a chance to explain to him why she’d hooked up with someone else. Her reason was connected to rumors he’d been doing the same when he was away on business. And though it was not a valid reason to cheat on a perfectly good friends-with-benefits relationship, he forgave her.
All he needed to do was try to forget, because he used to have fun with her. And for someone not willing to put his heart on the line, he couldn’t expect more than what Kelly was offering.
“It’s embarrassing. I can’t tell you,” Jordan said, folding her legs on the sofa and twisting the cap on the water bottle.
“No, crying in front of a girl you like is embarrassing,” Brandon said, still staring at his phone.
“Four years.”
He shook his head, disbelief flooding his mind as he raised his eyebrows. “Jordan, did you just say four years?”
Her lower lip moved between her teeth as she nodded, her eyes holding his.
“No,” he uttered. “That’s not possible.” But she kept nodding. “Holy shit! Are you a robot? Well, obviously not, as I’ve heard the moans you make eating damn donuts, and when I . . . kissed you. But still, those fucking donuts got you all wet, didn’t they?”
She gasped, tossing a cushion at him. “Such an asshole. But I guess you were kind of right about the—”
“Donuts getting you wet?” He cackled.
“No!” she squawked, throwing another cushion at him and hiding her face in her hands. “Gah! Don’t say that.”
After the redness in her cheeks waned, she continued, “You were right about the stick-up-my-ass thing at the theater.” She clasped her hands together and quirked an eyebrow. “Oh, that’s right, the dinner was to prove you weren’t an asshole, but it turns out you are.”
“I’m sorry again for thinking that at first, but you were being such a prude. Anyway, I still don’t understand. Why did you wait that long?”
“Let’s just say my last relationship wasn’t the greatest and leave it at that.”
He could hear the slight shift in her mood. But he completely understood; he didn’t care to talk about the thing that had ruined relationships for him either.
“Fine, I’ll put a shirt on for you. By the way, Stephanie’s not my type, but I think you already knew that.”
They camped out on the sofa all night, talking, laughing, and watching movies. Nothing else could have made him happier, and when he learned about her plans and passion for her business, he began thinking of ways to help her. He admired anyone willing to take a risk to reach their goals. He tried to do that at least once a week.
Jordan was warm and attractive, and having her open up to him—not to mention coming over to his house just to make sure he was okay and helping him process what had happened to his best friend—made him value their friendship even more. He’d regained her trust, and he never wanted to lose it again.
“When my dad died, my little brother was in the car with him,” Jordan shared in the early hours of the morning. “He was seven years old. He loved Dad, wanted to go everywhere with him, and unfortunately, he did.”
She glared at him when he crawled closer to her on the couch.
“It’s okay, and I’m fine now. I’ve grown to accept it. I don’t need anyone’s pity.”
“Either I’m going crazy, or we’re two peas in a pod,” Brandon said, causing Jordan to smile. And he didn’t care how much she fussed about not needing a hug. She was getting it whether she wanted it or not.
“How did it happen?” he asked as he lay next to her, his arm around her waist and his face on one side of her pillow. He studied her profile as she stared at the ceiling. So near, yet so distant at the same time.
Damn. She was even more beautiful up close.
“Remember my weird paranoia about the water at night?”
He nodded.
“We were in Georgia on a family vacation. It was our last night there. My dad wanted to go say his goodbyes to some of his friends, and my little brother wanted to go with him. Their car was hit by a semi-truck on a bridge. When the truck collided with them, the car flipped a few times, they said, before finally flying over the bridge into the river. They searched for days, but their bodies were never found. That’s why I was crying at Damian’s funeral, which was selfish. But I felt deprived and sad because I didn’t get to have that closure. The best I got was looking at the river below the bridge and wondering what if they were still alive?”
He pulled her closer and kissed her cheek, wishing he could protect her from everything and anything that might cause her pain, including himself.
I’ll never allow myself to love like that again. Remembering the oath he’d made, he let her loose and went back to his end of the couch. Jordan deserved to be loved and given everything he would never be able to offer without causing her pain.
He moved on to telling her stories about his friends, his family, and his adventures with Kelly, leaving out the fact that he’d started talking to her again. At three in the morning, he made and ate pancakes with Jordan, and it wasn’t until close to dawn that he drifted into a deep sleep.
He awoke to the sun pouring in through the windows. Jordan’s head was at one end of the sofa sectional, and his at the other. He picked up his phone to look at the time, but his battery was dead. Her feet touching his through the blanket were barely noticeable, but still, it formed a strange knot in his stomach.
He wondered if he could get up without waking her. Avoiding excessive movements, he removed the sheet and rolled over so slowly that by the time he stood, he was exhausted. He tucked his morning wood into the waistband of his sweats, not wanting to give Jordan that kind of surprise if she woke. Although, what would her reaction be?
Before walking away, he stared down at her a moment and considered the possible reasons she’d stayed away from dating for so many years, especially being so breathtakingly gorgeous inside and out. With her head turned to the side, curly golden strands had scattered around her face. And the cutest frown was settled on her pink lips.
He smiled, wanting to touch her and kiss that frown away. But as tempting as it was, she wasn’t his, so he opted for a cold shower instead.
When he returned to the living room, dressed in a suit with his hair damp, Jordan was still asleep. He sat next to her and shook her shoulders.
“Jordan? Wake up.”
She stirred after a moment. “Mmm . . .” she murmured, opening her eyes after he said her name again. “What time is it?”
“Almost nine,” he said, fixing a cufflink to his shirt sleeve.
She inhaled. “I’m so tired.”
“I know, and I didn’t make coffee. I’m not trying to kick you out, but I’m going out of town for a few days.” He stood and extended his hand to help her up.
“No, ugh, you suck,” Jordan complained, pulling the blanket over her head.
Was she actually going to miss him?
“Who doesn’t make coffee in the morning?”
He smiled. Of course not. Why would she miss him? “Don’t make me come under there and get you. You know I will.”
Rubbing her eyes, she stood. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe we stayed up all night.”
Grabbing her wrist, he pulled her into his body for a tight squeeze and rocked her from side to side. “Thank you for last night.”
“No coffee, and you saying that doesn’t make me feel like a whore or anything,” she murmured against his chest.
He laughed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Forgive me. Bad habit. Obviously you mean much more to me.”
So much more, he thought, remembering how often Stephanie had insisted she go down on him after the bar. She’d rubbed his crotch through his jeans the entire ride home in the backseat of Andrew’s SUV. And when they’d gotten to the house and he’d walked her to her car, she’d grabbed his belt buckle and pulled his cock out while sitting in the driver’s seat.
It had been a temporary solution, but pointless; the disturbing thought of Jordan hooking up with Greg still fucked with his mind daily.
“I can’t believe we talked all night,” he told Jordan. “Not fucked, but talked? Shit, I may be a changed man.”
“I doubt that.”
“Yeah, me too. It’s because you have a boyfriend. You know that, right? Are you sure you don’t want to give us a second chance?” His hand scampered up to the back of her neck, and he felt the urge to bury his cock inside her. He smiled as she stiffened on cue. “Last night would have gone a lot differently; no limit to the things I would have done to you.”
She gasped and stepped away from him. “Brandon, you can’t say stuff like that. I told you no flirting. We shouldn’t even hang out so much. Last night I—it’s really confusing.”
“I know.” He swallowed, having a hard time balancing what his mind wanted with what the rest of him wanted. As he spotted the pain in her eyes, something else occurred to him: he trusted her. His armor was gone. Smiling, he shook his head. How had she gotten in, and why wasn’t he worried?
“What?” Jordan asked.
Hailey, his bleeding heart echoed, arousing memories of the devastating pain he’d felt so long ago. “I fucking love you. Why, why would you do this to me?”
He should be worried.
If he trusted her, he could fall in love with her. She deserved happiness and someone who could give it to her.
Frowning, he looked Jordan square in the eye. “Nothing. I’m glad you found someone. And you’re right, we need some distance from each other. I should know better.”