The last thing Nikki wanted was another walk of shame through Brant’s hotel room and onto the elevator. She hadn’t thought of anything except Brant.
And the fact that neither of them were yelling.
Talking. He talked to her. Opened up.
Cracked his shell and let her see inside as if she wasn’t blind. It wasn’t enough. And at the same time, it was too much, because in that moment, he was Brant, her Brant.
The Brant she’d fallen in love with.
The Brant she’d hoped to see again at the auction.
The Brant she’d slept with.
The Brant she still wanted.
With a shiver, she held her head high and moved to open the bedroom door, only to have it jerked open before she could get the chance.
She stumbled against a warm, rock-hard chest. Her hands pressed against the skin, and a slow throb started pulsing through her body.
“I got you a robe, and clothes are getting sent up.” Brant’s low timbre always had a way of causing shivers to wrack her body, as if she’d never heard a man’s voice before. Were things different between them now? Better? Did she even want to go there?
Who was she kidding?
Brant wasn’t the type to just blurt out his feelings and then take another leap toward the very person who pushed him out of his life.
The truth was, she didn’t remember saying any of those things to him. For four years she’d thought he’d just given up on them because he couldn’t take it anymore, because she’d finally pushed him away. And when she’d gotten hurt she just assumed he couldn’t deal with one more thing.
It had hurt her deeply.
They lost a child. And then she lost him.
Instead, he was suffering with his own silent pain over her words, words that she didn’t even remember saying about how he took everything from her.
Would he have stayed?
Had she not deliriously blamed him for everything?
She’d unintentionally wrecked him, and at the same time she was so angry that he would hold something like that against her when she was in so much pain.
It was jarring to come to the realization that she’d been just as guilty. The last thing she’d wanted was for the love of her life to leave her.
She gulped and touched the clothing. “Thank you.”
Brant backed her up into the bathroom, and the door clicked shut. “We have company.”
“Here?”
“Drop the towel, Nik.”
“I’m cold.”
“That’s why I got you the robe. Besides, the last thing you need is to walk out there almost naked in front of my entire family.”
She groaned. “They’re all here?”
He nodded. “The towel?”
She sighed. Her hands clutched the towel so tightly her knuckles were probably turning white.
“Would it help if I closed my eyes?”
A nervous laugh escaped. “We had sex last night, you just showered with me, saw everything, and even though most of my dignity is gone, I’m pretty sure my honor is still intact.”
“Not for lack of me wanting to strip it away.” His voice was close, his hands on her shoulders as the heat from his body surrounded her.
She let out a little gasp, her lips parting, opening, waiting for a kiss.
“I want to try.”
Her heart nearly stopped as it bounced in her chest with excitement. “Really?”
“I’m saying this wrong.” She felt him pull away, physically, emotionally. “I want to try to be…friends.”
Friends.
After everything they’d been through. After sleeping together. After rescuing her, saying all of those things in the shower? After admitting that she still owned him? He wanted to be friends?
“Yeah,” she found herself saying, like an idiot. “That’s a good…” She nodded a few times. “Let’s do that.”
Don’t cry. Do. Not. Cry.
He exhaled and touched his forehead to hers. “Thank you.”
Sure, no problem. Just rip my heart out and stomp on it.
“Well.” She pulled away; she had no choice. It wasn’t even the sting of rejection, it was the feel of hope dying. She’d hoped—it was a dangerous thing, especially where Brant was concerned.
Stupid. She was so stupid.
With a sigh, she dropped the towel and quickly reached for Brant. A terry cloth–type material met her fingers, and was slid over her body and tied so tight she sucked in a breath.
He knotted it at least four times.
“Is that necessary?”
“The last thing I want”—he jerked the material tighter (Another knot? Really?)—“is this robe opening up and showing anyone what isn’t theirs to see.”
“You included?” She just had to say that, didn’t she?
He was close again, she could feel the heat from his lips as he whispered, “Me included.”
“Brant!” Nadine’s voice was shrill, loud, and completely welcome. Nik needed to get away from him, away from his heat, his so-called friendship, and the freaking way her body still yearned for him. “Get out here!”
Brant swore. “I’ve learned it’s best to just do as she asks and then figure out an escape plan.”
“Noted.” She tried smiling, she really did, but leaving that bathroom, with all its confessions, with all its feelings—it felt like the minute she closed the door all would be lost. It was ridiculous, but that bathroom represented the first time in four years that Nikki had actually had some closure or at least had heard Brant explain why he’d left, why he’d done what he did.
The door opened, then closed again. Brant cupped her face. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
She shook her head, willing the tears to stay in. “Nothing, I’m fine. I just…I’m tired.”
“Nik—”
She forced a smile and reached around him to push the door open.
“There you are!” Nadine announced, and suddenly Nikki was in a choking plume of flowery perfume, and getting tugged down a hall and gently pushed onto a nice, plush chair. Colors of blue and brown blurred in front of her; movement caught her eye.
She probably looked exactly how she felt—like hell.
“Now…” Nadine patted her hand. “Since Brant’s here on the Titus dime, working…” She made sure to accentuate the word working, even adding in a pregnant pause after it. “…why don’t we leave him to it? The men can join Brant, and we women can enjoy a spa day!”
Lovely. “Relaxing” at a spa she worked at, with her boss. Ugh.
“Actually.” Nikki stood. She couldn’t just take time off like that, especially with how busy it was. “I have to get back to work—once the clothes arrive.”
“Oh.” Nadine sounded upset. “How unfortunate. I was really hoping to try the Zen room.”
“No,” Brant interrupted. His voice had Nikki jumping in her seat.
“What do you mean, no?” Nadine’s voice rose.
“I mean no, Nikki shouldn’t go back to work. She’s injured, and the injury took place on the clock. She should relax.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Nadine said in a Well, that’s all there is to it voice. “So, shall we try the Zen room while the men go to the meditation tent?”
“Meditation? Tent?” Brant repeated. “Why the hell would we go to a tent?”
“You’re in the Zen program.” Nadine laughed. “Oh dear, did nobody tell you about the meditation practices? It’s for meditation.”
“No,” Brant said through clenched teeth. “Because some jackass who hates me is the one who signed me up for it.” On cue, his stomach growled.
Nikki hid a smile behind her hand.
“No chance in hell,” came Brock’s voice, “that any of us are going into a sweat tent to meditate.”
“Actually”—Bentley drew the word out—“I think it’s a great idea.”
“The hell you do!” Brant yelled. “Wait…why do you have that smile on your face…”
Nikki loved this. The way they interacted with each other. The way that even when they fought you could tell it was out of love.
And suddenly, it was too much. Her heart sank.
When she worked hard, when her feet were exhausted after a long day’s work, it was easy to lie down on her giant bed and convince herself she was happy, that she didn’t need anything else in her life. She had a great job and great friends, and she was good at what she did.
Suddenly the room fell quiet.
Her cheeks heated. “I’m sorry, I—did I miss something?”
“I said your name four times,” Brant announced. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yup.” Friend. “Are the clothes here yet? Like I said, I really need to get back to work.”
Nobody said anything, and then suddenly she heard Brant’s voice.
“Yes, hi Annie, it’s Brant.” He cursed. “Yes, the prick who’s dying a slow death in your romance novel…oh, poisoning? How wonderful, thank you…No, no, I’m not being sarcastic.” Another sigh. “Well, as long as there’s hope he doesn’t completely lose all sexual function.”
Nikki smiled and then the smile was gone. Friends. Great, already she was getting comfortable with a man who wasn’t in her life anymore.
“Yes, how many clients does Nikki have this afternoon? Cancel them. Immediately…No, you only get raises when you perform well outside your normal duties. Yes.” He paused. “You’ve never seen your employee handbook?” He groaned. “That’s clearly a problem. Do me a favor and get Cole to meet me in the lobby. Yes, I’m aware I’m expected in the meditation tent, but my brothers cheerfully volunteered to take my place.”
“Bastard,” Brock grunted.
“Bye.”
Brant thought he was doing her a favor, but what did he expect her to do? Sit with Nadine and the other two women whose voices she still hadn’t heard yet, and, what? Gossip? Talk about shopping? Pretend that this week wasn’t going to end in a few days? That as nice as they were, she didn’t belong in their world anymore?
In Brant’s world?
The more she thought about it, the angrier she became—yes, maybe irrationally so, but still! That was her job! And her job was all she had, especially since he’d made it clear that there was no future between them, that this was just them healing, trying to move past everything. He had no right to just run around and make demands. Besides, what if Nadine didn’t think Nikki could do her job? What if she fired her? What if she got replaced? Okay, now she was really making leaps with her assumptions, but after such an emotional and confusing morning, she was having a hard time being rational.
A knock sounded at the door. “Clothes are here.”
She quickly jumped to her feet, then immediately felt stupid. How was she going to navigate the room? She didn’t even know how many people were in it with her. Watching her.
Warm hands, Brant’s hands, met hers, as he gently walked her down a hall and placed a garment bag in her hands. He opened a door. He walked in with her.
“I can change by myself,” she said in a terse voice.
“I’m here to supervise.” He sounded bored. “That’s all.”
She was too tired to argue. And she was confused. One minute he wanted to be friends, the next he was supervising her undressing? Really?
“Fine.” She found the zipper to the bag and pulled it down. “Then at least turn around…friend.” She heard his sharp intake of breath, ignored it, and felt around for the clothes. “A dress?” She rolled her eyes. “You had the staff bring me a dress?”
“It was either a nice wrap dress from the gift shop or an I HEART AZUL T-shirt with board shorts.”
She quickly pulled the soft cotton dress from the bag and felt around for any clue on how to put it on.
“Pull the sash.” Brant’s voice interrupted her search. “Put your arms through the holes—”
“I know how to put on a dress, Brant. Trust me, I’ve been doing this by myself for years.” She was lashing out. Again.
And suddenly she wanted to go back to the bathroom. Or even better, back to the angry Brant who yelled and threatened. Because at least that she knew how to deal with; it was a mess, but this? This she didn’t understand how to navigate without getting hurt.
After five minutes of struggling, she finally got the dress on and they walked back down the hall.
“You look beautiful!” Nadine clapped her hands, and suddenly she was being suffocated with a hug and a cloud of sweet-smelling perfume. “Doesn’t she look beautiful, Brant?”
“She always does.” His words came out gravelly, tense.
“And those curves.” Nadine pulled away. “Such gorgeous curves. And those plump lips, don’t they look plump, Brant?”
Brant said nothing.
Nikki kept her head high.
Why would he? They were friends.
“I think you look beautiful.” Bentley’s silky voice said from her right. Was Brock still there? Charles? Sometimes she just wished people would announce themselves so she’d know.
“We should get going.” Brant’s hand touched her elbow, and then he was tugging her away, his fingertips barely grazing her arm, like he was afraid to touch her.
She said a quick good-bye to everyone. He released his hold on her elbow and pressed the small of her back, urging her forward. The minute she was in the elevator his hand dropped.
The silence was awkward. Tense. Painful. Tears stung the backs of her eyes.
“You do look beautiful,” he whispered as the elevator descended. “Any man would be lucky to have you.”
Any man. Not him.
Somehow she found her voice. “Thank you.”
And suddenly the elevator was too small. The memories too big. She felt like she was suffocating.
When the elevator doors opened she lunged into the lobby in an effort to escape—everything.
But especially him.