Page 45 of Break Point

“I guess you were all right,” Taryn says, waggling her head to play up her aloofness. She can’t keep the bored expression up for long, though, and her smile breaks into her cheeks after a second.

Bryson laughs good-naturedly before dropping his gaze to me. “And what about you? Was I . . . all right?”

My lips pull in tight on one side, the smile there despite how hard I try to pretend I wasn’t enamored with his every move. I’m doing my best to play the part, but I’m not so sure what my character is supposed to be anymore. His eyes linger on my face, dipping to my mouth for a beat, and I’m hit with a heated dart right to the center of my chest. I suck in my bottom lip and drop my gaze to my shirt—his jersey—stretching it out by pulling on the hem.

“I mean, I guess I’m not embarrassed to be wearing this,” I say, glancing up at him through my lashes. His mouth curves up a hint, a subtle shift that I think is meant just for me. Or maybe I’m entertaining fantasies again. It’s hard to tell, but I know one thing for certain—I don’t want to be wrong. I don’t like the uneasy feeling that’s vibrating my tummy.

“Hey, there’s my guy!” A deep voice with a thick Oklahoma accent crashes in from the other side of the corridor, and it’s obvious the moment the man’s hand lands on Bryson’s shoulder that it’s his father. Whatever energy may have been crackling between us before he arrived instantly fizzles.

“Hey, Dad,” Bryson says, shaking his father’s open palm with the same hand that had held my kiss. The two men hug briefly, then Amelia rises on her toes to kiss her father’s cheek. It’s strange to see these two confident young adults shrink so quickly.

“And you are?” Jacob Moss’s attention swings to me without warning, and for a tiny moment I feel like I’m under the spotlight in a prison break. I clear my throat and roll my shoulders back before extending my hand for a shake.

“I’m Jaden, sir. I work with your daughter,” I say. Bryson falls back a step, and my gaze drifts to him briefly, just long enough to see his brow furrow. Is it possible I hurt his feelings with that answer?

“Jaden. Ah, yes. The Jaden.” Jacob makes eyes at Bryson first, then at Amelia. Her posture shrinks under her father’s gaze, too, and something about that burns my stomach.

“Yes, I’m sorry about the mix-up with my pay. There was a water incident, and your daughter wanted to make sure that she got me what I was owed, so that’s why there was a charge on the business card. I’m sorry if that caused you any alarm.”

I ignore the sound of Bryson’s clearing throat to my right, instead focusing on the way Amelia is fidgeting with her hands and blinking her focus from her father to me, then to her brother. I meet her dad’s hard stare, the amused smirk playing at his lips shadowed slightly by the brim of his black cowboy hat. It’s strange how much his eyes are exactly like his son’s. The wrinkles at the corners are a glimpse into Bryson’s future. He finally offers a quiet snap of a laugh.

“I see why you hired her.” He waggles his finger in my general direction. “She’s got her head on straight. All business, this one, huh?”

I pair my tight smile with a raised brow, refusing to shrink the same way his children seem to in his presence.

“Join us for dinner, Jaden. I’d love to hear your take on this whole app business,” Jacob says, pulling a cell phone from the back pocket of his jeans, then holding up a finger and wandering a few steps away to answer a call.

“You don’t have to go,” Bryson says, his hand brushing my shoulder before his fingers stop at the edge of the jersey sleeve, pinching it and tugging lightly.

I flit my gaze to his and try to unravel what it is I think he’s actually trying to say behind those heavy eyelids and the gnawing at the inside of his cheek.

“I’d like to. If you’re all right with that?” I say in a soft tone.

“Please come,” Amelia adds. “Both of you.”

I assume she’s inviting Taryn as well, but before I respond, I wait for her brother’s approval. My eyes remain glued to his, even after he offers a slight nod and utters, “Okay.” In fact, our connection doesn’t break until he walks away several seconds later, and I think the only reason he leaves is that his father’s call ends and he doesn’t want to be here when the man rejoins the conversation.

Chapter 17

Bryson

I’m torn. I kind of wish Jaden had left with Taryn after my game instead of accepting my father’s offer to join my dysfunctional family for dinner. Of course, it’s never just the four of us. Jacob Moss always turns meals like these into business meetings. Not only is Jaden about to be exposed to the often toxic dynamics of a Moss family meal, where my sister and I pretend to like our stepmom, Savannah, who is only six years older than Amelia, but she’ll also get to see me fake a smile in front of complete strangers who are only here for my dad’s free booze and hot takes on the oil industry. My presence is purely garnish, the shiny bauble there to impress.

There’s a quieter part of me, however, that’s relieved to have someone besides Amelia to talk to. It’s usually just the two of us versus, well, everyone else. But with Jaden here, I feel oddly like I can breathe. Not that I’m using her as a shield, but I can’t lie—seeing Jaden stand tall in my father’s face when I know he was trying to cow her into submission was kind of inspiring.

Most of us piled into my father’s rental to get to the restaurant, and rather than force my dad’s guests or my sister to climb into the far back seats, I volunteered Jaden and myself to crawl into the third row. It’s a snug fit, and if my father so much as brakes hard, I’ll likely break my leg since my knee is pressed against the seat in front of me. But it’s also quieter back here. Two men dressed in sport coats and jeans, look-alikes of my father, dominate the conversation with tales of their recent trip to the Middle East.

“I wish I had time to change,” Jaden whispers as she presses her arm into mine.

I smirk at her, and she jabs my rib with her elbow.

“Oww,” I laugh softly, rubbing the spot. “It’s just funny to see you dressed as my number one fan. You know . . . on account of your level ten hate for me.”

“I do not hate you,” she gripes back.

I hold up my palms and twist my lips, acting surprised.

“Much,” she adds, and I breathe out a laugh before patting her knee.