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He took a step closer, but I held my ground.
“Do not pretend that you can use this to take pot-shots at me,” he growled. “Bruin, cut the crap, seriously. I know Jillian went on the yacht with you to wherever you went. She had a tan, for God’s sakes. I thought we were clear when we talked in the bar.”
I rolled my eyes, looking away for a moment, then glaring back at Jeff. My instinct was to start mouthing off about how Jillian and I had spent the week having mind-blowing sex. I wanted to fly off the handle at him and tell him all about how happy she was, how great my cock made her feel, how much she needed a break from everything and could live so much more if she weren’t under Jeff’s thumb.
But Jeff and I had history. A lot of history. And as angry as I was, I wasn’t going to throw that all away just because I was pissed.
“Okay, fine,” I said, letting out a breath and giving Jeff a firm, even, hard gaze. “Jillian was with me. She’s allowed to do that, Jeff. She’s a grown woman.”
“You keep saying that, man.” He shook his head. “And it’s not right. She should be like a little sister to you, like she is to me.”
“Why do you keep going back to that? You can’t just keep a leash on her like she’s your possession, Jeff. She can make her own decisions in life. She negotiates for multi-million-dollar deals on a daily basis. She just flew across the country to do just that, all for the business the two of you are building together. You appreciate that, so why can’t you appreciate her personal life?”
“I do, Bruin.” His voice was biting. “She’s free to do whatever she likes. That’s not what I’m worried about. We know each other, man, we—”
“So that’s what it is,” I huffed, cutting him off and nodding. “I get it. I’m still Bruin the Fuckup to you, aren’t I? I’m still the playboy driving you crazy in freshman year, is that it?”
“Bruin, I know what you’re like,” he snapped. “Hell, I hear about your one-night stands constantly. Last time we talked a few months ago, you bragged about it. If you think you can do that shit with Jillian, you don’t know me at all.”
“Jill’s not like that,” I said, and I’d never been more sure of it in my life, even if I’d never thought I’d say something like that about a woman. “Jeff, she’s...hell, she’s special. You know that.”
“Exactly, and she needs someone who can treat her like that. You have a daughter, Bruin, one you never expected to happen.”
I felt the heat rising in my face, and it took a lot of willpower not to throw a punch at my best friend.
“Emma is my pride and joy, Jeff.” My voice was low and deadly as I took a step forward, pointing a finger at him in warning. “And you know what? I told Jill about her. I was worried she’d react like you are, thinking I’m some fuckup with my past mistakes following me around. But Emma? She’s anything but a mistake, and Jill recognized that, Jeff. She was happy to hear about her. You could stand to learn a lot from your sister.”
Jeff glared at me long and hard, not a word coming from his mouth the whole time. Finally, he shook his head and turned his back on me, stalking off down the dock.
“I won’t tell you again, Bruin,” he called over his shoulder. “This is not your garden to play in.”
I clenched my fists as he went, then turned and stormed back onto the ship, where Miguel was waiting quietly by one of the doors.
“Get me a triple whisky,” I ordered him curtly. “Neat.”
“Yes, sir,” he answered quickly.
This was fucked up. I knew I couldn’t back down, both for my sake and for Jillian’s. But if I kept going after her... I was probably going to lose my best friend.
20
Jillian
Today was the kind of day to write home about. I was walking down the streets of San Diego with a coconut-milk iced coffee in my hand, the sun was shining brightly overhead, there was a balmy breeze in the air, and I had just landed a huge contract from a client.
I couldn’t stop smiling. The temperature was about seventy-seven degrees, which was the ideal climate in my opinion. Nothing more, nothing less. I was on my way down to the beach in Sunset Cliffs Natural Park, looking for a place to clear my head and catch some rays.
The whole flight over here to California from Fort Lauderdale had been a mess. The seat I had was a middle seat wedged between two less-than-pleasant aisle mates. On my left was a potbellied business guy who talked loudly into his bluetooth earpiece the whole time, getting increasingly more drunk on those tiny bottles of vodka. On my right was a sweet young woman who would have probably been a wonderful, quiet person to sit next to except that she was flying with her infant child, who was not pleased about being on a plane. The baby screamed and cried the whole way here. I took a page from the bluetooth guy’s book and bought myself a rum-and-coke just to get through the stressful flight. Normally, I preferred to fly business class or even first class, but since this has been such a last-minute trip, I’d had to settle for whatever was left.
By the time I’d landed in San Diego, I was a little buzzed and about ready to tear my hair out. But I had to go straight from the airport to my meeting with the client, who was all in a tizzy over the yacht coming in from Hawaii.
Turned out, the client was a middle-aged woman this time, buying the boat as a very, very expensive gift for her younger husband. She was concerned that the interior design of the yacht might be too feminine for his tastes and she needed me to comfort her and assuage her fears. When I arrived, the poor rich woman was chewi
ng her perfectly-manicured nails, nervous as hell. I took her on a tour of the yacht, calmly and coolly explaining how easy it would be to redecorate and refurnish the boat to better suit her husband’s preferences. I had calmed her down enough by the end of the tour that she actually gave me a hug and signed the paperwork for the yacht right then and there. It was a huge gain for me. Forty-five minutes of consoling this woman and I had a massive sale under my belt.
So now I was celebrating. The adrenaline rush I got from making the sale was enough to propel me out of my hotel room and down to the shore with my iced coffee in hand. My hotel was only a few blocks from the park, which was perfect. I found a nice boulder to sit on, and then took out my phone. I wanted to call someone. No, not just someone-- I wanted to call Bruin. I wanted to tell him about my big sale. I wanted, for some stupid reason, for him to be proud of me. But I couldn’t do that. Not after the way we left things in Florida. I sighed, my adrenaline high wearing off as I thought about the sticky situation I was in.
I liked Bruin. A lot. He made me feel things I hadn’t felt in years, possibly ever. And not just in bed. My heart skipped a beat whenever I thought of him. I decided to call Anna Kate. Maybe she would have some sage advice. I dialed her number on Facetime and she picked up on the second ring, smiling at me from her kitchen, yet again.
