TYLER

Why did Brenna leave in the middle of the night without me?

It’s a question that’s haunted me for years. One I never expected to get an answer to, and now that I do, I’m not sure it matters.

She’s sorry?

Screw that. Her apology doesn’t make me feel any better.

She regrets leaving.

But what did that even mean? If she regretted it so much, why didn’t she came back? No, she went on with her life without me.

And the kicker is, after all these years, I still want her. And there she was standing at my front door. Only now she’s a totally different person.

I still can’t believe it’s her. Even after Dean came back from the gym saying he’d talked with her and confirmed that the stranger in the lobby was indeed Brenna. I still couldn’t believe that woman with the dyed hair and tattoos could be the sweet girl I fell in love with all those years ago.

And in a very real way, she wasn’t. Brenna said she wanted a new life. It seems like she went out and found one.

Unlike me.

After she left, I fell right into the role my father always had planned out for me. College, a management position at the firm, and now that Dad is retired, CEO.

I flop down onto the sofa and grab my beer, chugging down the warm remains. Anger and morbid curiosity war inside my brain. I try telling myself that I got my closure. I should just let it go and try to avoid her, but another part of me—a more persistent part—wants to know everything about her life. Where did she go? What has she been doing all these years? What’s with the new look?

Other than those piercing blue eyes, she’s nothing like the girl I knew. The girl that haunted my dreams. Was our brief relationship just a phase? After all, she moved on and forgot all about me—about us.

But that isn’t true either.

I saw it in the way her breath sped up when I opened the door. The blush that crept across her face. She was just as rattled by that surprise meeting as I was. I know she felt the energy that sparked between us when I stepped close, when I touched her.

And she couldn’t hide the disappointment in her eyes when I stepped away without kissing her.

My balls ache just remembering the soft moan she tried to hide when I slid my fingers down her neck. It is just like I remembered. Fuck, she evens smells the same, like a ripe peach with a hint of vanilla. My sheets would smell like her for days after we made love.

Does she taste the same?

I close my eyes and try to remember the feel of her skin, but my mind starts to wander.

Is there a man in her life? I didn’t think to check for a ring. And if there is one, do I care? Our relationship, if that’s what you’d even call it, was a long time ago. I’ve moved on; she probably did too.

But the thought of another man touching her makes me see red. I’m not sure how I feel about her yet, but I know one thing for sure, I don’t want anyone else to have her.

Luther raises his head and huffs as he struggles to get his gangly leg underneath him on the slick wood floor. The Great Dane lays his head on the arm of the sofa and whimpers as if sensing the quagmire of emotions Brenna’s visit has drudged up.

“What should I do, Luther? Do I ignore her? Too much time has passed, and too many things have happened. And who knows if she’s going to stick around this time.”

I stroke the soft fur of his nose and try to play out exactly how that would work now that she’s living here. I could avoid the elevators if I see her. Maybe I should insist that Landon stop coming by. Pretend like I don’t care if I see her with another guy. All of that sounds horrible.

Luther stands up and climbs over the arm of the sofa. With his rear legs still on the floor, he lays across my lap and whimpers.

“You’re right. That’s a bad idea,” I say and scratch behind his ear. “Maybe I should go downstairs and confront her? I could demand real answers about what happened, and maybe after that, we could try to be friends. At the very least, we could try to come to some kind of easy truce.”

Luther pushes my hand with his nose when I stop petting, a whiny growl coming from the back of his throat.

“Drag her back to my bed and stay there until we figure this out?”

“Woof,” he agrees.

I sigh and rub behind the big oaf’s ear. “I like your enthusiasm, but as much as I want to, I don’t think that’s the best way to work through this issue.”

“Are you talking to the dog again?” Dean says as he walks in the door.

“At least he listens to me,” I say and pat Luther’s head. “Isn’t that right, boy?”

“Only because he’s a captive audience.” Dean tosses his keys onto the table and sinks down beside me. “Today was a fucking long day. Thank God, it’s over. I need a drink and a long soak in the hot tub. Want to join me downstairs so we can talk about what’s going on with the Union Street building?”

“Let’s talk about it at the office tomorrow,” I hedge, not really in the mood to talk business. My head is muddled with old and new feelings about Brenna. She’s back—at least for now—and I have to figure out what I’m going to do about it.

He glances up at the big screen as if just noticing the War Strike main menu and cocks an eyebrow. “Did Landon come by? Did he bring Brenna? Did you see her? I told you it was her.”

“You were right. Too bad I already opened that bottle of Scotch,” I say, trying to change the subject. I can’t talk about her without bringing up a whole truckload of shit I’m not ready to face. “I’m going to crash early. Enjoy your soak.”

I head back to my room. The click-clack of Luther’s paws echo behind me as I push open the door and collapse on the bed. What a fucking roller-coaster of a day. I toss an arm over my face and close my eyes.

A familiar scene plays out in my mind.

Brenna stretched out on my bed wearing nothing but a white lacy bra and plain cotton panties. Only this time, instead of a curvy blonde, I picture black and purple hair fanned out around her thinner, more mature body. The white undergarments stand out against the colorful ink that runs down her arm.

I groan and cup my hardening dick. Fuuuuck. I’m in so much trouble.