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He rushed through a shower, his only thought to get the hell out of the house before Sara could corner him. He wasn’t interested in talking to her at the moment. Maybe ever.
It was one thing for her to lie, quite another to make him lie to his own sister. And for what? If she was really that ambivalent about seeing him, he should’ve taken no for an answer the first time he’d broached the subject of wanting her. One-way streets weren’t meant for two drivers.
He went through his morning routine and changed into his standard attire—God forbid a guy not wear a suit to work—then stared at his glowering face in the bathroom mirror. In the mood he was in, he’d punch out the first person who questioned a line item on their bill.
Five deep breaths didn’t help, so he tried ten. It took fifteen for the haze behind his eyes to clear. He’d just reached for the doorknob when the knock came, soft and hesitant.
“Brad, it’s me. Can I come in?”
He yanked open the door so abruptly that she almost fell into his arms. “No, because I’m coming out. I have to get to work.”
She righted herself and shook back her long fall of brown hair. Of course she’d had to leave it down so it swirled over the shoulders of her form-fitting navy blue dress. Blue pumps revealed her pink, polished toes—toes that, even now, he wanted to suck on with all the fleeting conviction of a virgin leaving convent school.
“This won’t take long—”
“Neither will this.” He stepped around her and glanced back at her framed in his doorway. The picture she made would remain in his head forever. So defiant and resolute, with only that hint of a quiver in her shiny lower lip. “You were right.” He forced the words out despite the fist locked around his throat. “I shouldn’t have pushed this. It was a mistake, one we need to rectify.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean us.” He chuckled without humor, shaking his head. “Not that there is an us, but for the sake of argument. We’ll end things here and part as friends while we still can.”
Of all possible reactions, he didn’t expect her to back up as if he’d burned her with his words. “If we could—” She blew out a breath that stirred her perfectly arranged bangs. “Okay. If that’s what you want.”
No, he didn’t fucking want this, not any of it. If he’d ever guessed she could be so blasé about them, he never would have laid a hand on her. She’d resisted his advances for a while, but he’d been convinced he could get her to see what was right in front of her.
He’d been wrong.
“Is that what you were coming to tell me?” he asked, unable to let it go that easily.
Her throat moved. “No. But it should’ve been.”
He pushed a hand through his damp hair and vowed to get it cut that afternoon. Maybe he’d shave it all off and tattoo something badass on his scalp. Why not? He didn’t have anyone to answer to but himself.
“All right then. I’m out of here.” He turned away and sneezed, then sneezed again.
“Oh no, did I get you sick?”
“No.” He rubbed his nose and pretended his cheeks weren’t on fire. He’d chalked up his temperature to his overly hot shower, but what did he know? Clearly nada. “See ya.”
He’d made it down three steps when her voice stopped him. “Thank you for my car. I started it and she’s running like a dream. Are you sure you don’t want me to pay you?”
He continued down the steps. Looking at her was too damn painful. “No. You’ve already done enough.”
Normally she would’ve avoided Brad until their disagreement faded with the passage of time. Except she happened to have real, strong feelings for him, ones that had made themselves painfully known the instant he’d told her it was over. Plus there were the logistical issues of living with the man who’d broken up with her. Her best friend was acting odd too, which Sara suspected had more to do with her strange behavior outside Brad’s bedroom that morning than Kim’s new boyfriend’s supposed “performance issues”. From what she and Brad had heard last night, he’d performed just fine.
Basically, everything was fucked up, and since she was responsible for some of—most of—the mess, she’d have to figure out how to make things right. Talking wouldn’t do it. Empty promises that disappeared when her innate desire to cling to the status quo overrode everything else definitely wouldn’t. She needed to act.
She started with lunch.
At noon, she dropped off five sacks of sandwiches, chips and sodas at O’Halloran’s. When she walked in the door, all conversation stopped like last time. The guys looked up from under the hoods of the cars they were working on and away from their clipboards. And stared.
“Brought some stuff for you all to eat, if anyone’s hungry.” She maintained her mega-watt grin as she dumped her sacks on the counter.
No one moved. Or spoke.
Finally the tech she remembered as Kevin ambled over from the classic Chevelle he had on a lift, scratching his stomach through his misbuttoned work shirt. “Are you looking for Brad? He’s out back talking to a customer.” He aimed a wink over his shoulder at one of the other guys. “Real pretty one too.”
She nearly groaned aloud. Pretty? Already? God, she couldn’t catch a break.
