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He rubbed his temple. “Why are you here?”
Adam grinned and stroked his fledgling goatee. He’d been trying to grow one for years and hadn’t yet succeeded. “This is why I crashed at Marsh’s. She was actually happy to see me. She gave me an actual hug and stuff.”
Spencer couldn’t restrain his own grin. Thank God for his little brother. “Maybe I would’ve hugged you if you hadn’t had your paws on my woman.” Hearing himself, he glanced at the door. At least no one else could hear him being so pathetic.
“Well, I figure she’s back on the market, so technically that makes her open game.” Adam gave him a toothy smile, the one that worked magic on their mother and made Spencer want to gouge out his own eyeballs with a rusty butter knife. “Right? You broke up with her. So that must mean you’re done.”
Because he knew well how Adam operated, Spencer just shuffled papers on his desk. “We’re done, yes.” Even the words tasted sour. “But if you touch her, you’ll be shopping for a new set of nuts. Fair warning.”
“Big talk from such a broken man.” Adam scooted forward and leaned his forearms on the desk. “Let me guess. She’s a dud in the sack. The legs are pretty, useless twigs. Her ass is really flat, her tits—”
“Are not your concern,” Spencer finished, fighting another grin. His brother knew just how to poke and prod him out of a mood. Lord knows he’d had plenty of practice. “Seriously, Adam, drop it. All right?”
“Hmm, no locker room bragging. That means one of two things. There’s nothing to brag about—which is basically impossible, because all guys lie when it counts—or else you care about her. Like, really care. Beyond the normal limits of cordial concern the almighty Spencer allows himself for his lovers.”
Spencer rose and glared down at his brother, his sense of humor rapidly disintegrating. “Mind your own business.”
“Currently I’m fresh out of business,” Adam said cheerfully, tossing back his unruly blond mop. It was too long and badly cut, as usual. Spencer had a feeling he had his stylist shape it that way on purpose. All part of the Adam Galvin shtick. “Plus yours is pretty interesting, since women don’t fall in love with you that often. For good reason.”
“Jesus Christ,” Spencer exploded. “Did she tell you all about our sex life too?”
“I’ll never tell,” he said in a singsong voice.
“I don’t have time for this.” Spencer grabbed his briefcase and the stack of files he’d set aside. “Give me a call when you grow up.”
“Spence, wait,” Adam said when Spencer was about to cross the threshold.
Spencer stopped and took a deep breath. “What?”
“If you need to talk, I’m here.”
Spencer glanced back at his brother. “It’s good seeing you,” he said finally. “You still going to be around in a week?”
Adam smiled. “It’s a good bet, yeah. Think I’ll take a couple weeks vacay up here, clear the old head a bit. Hang. Visit with Marsh. Annoy the cute redhead with all the cookies. You know.”
“The cute redhead’s off-limits too,” he said and turned away before Adam could ask any more questions. But it didn’t stop him. It never did.
No mere human was fast enough to evade Adam Galvin’s mouth.
“Aww, man, did you fuck her too? You always get all the best ass.”
“Remember that,” Spencer called over his shoulder.
His lightened mood lasted until he saw Kelly at the checkout counter, her head down as she counted bills. Her flirty smile long gone, she looked up and saw him. And her desolate expression tore him in half.
He’d done that to her. Taken away the joy in her eyes, robbed her of her carefree laughter. Even if he hadn’t meant to, the damage had been done.
His gut tightened. Every part of him told him to go to her, to explain his behavior the night before. To at least try. He wasn’t a quitter—not at anything. And he wasn’t nearly ready to let her go.
But she turned her back on him. When he hesitated, still unable to leave, she strode away from the counter. The customer she’d been helping called after her, but she didn’t answer. She just kept going.
A minute later, so did he.
* * * * *
Kelly spent the next week in a haze. She slept, she worked, she talked to Alana on the phone. Whenever her best friend asked if she was okay, she said yes. Because she was. Her heart hadn’t broken compl
etely, just cracked a little in important spots. But she’d get over it. The cliché that time healed all wounds was a cliché for a reason. She’d been hurt often enough that she knew nothing mattered as much when viewed through the barrel of distance.
