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“I’m almost done with the one you’ve lent me.”
“I saw. The question is, are you going to want to borrow another one?”
He turns to the pile of books stacked up the wall behind the sofa. I haven’t gotten a bookcase for them yet, but I’d unpacked the box before I realized I had nowhere to put them. “Yeah, I think so.” He walks toward them and kneels down to get a closer look. “Are these all the ones you’ve worked on?”
“God, no! I wish. A handful are. The rest are some authors I like.”
“Do you have any where the main characters don’t end up together?”
I raise my eyebrows. “As in where one of them dies or something?”
“Not necessarily. Just where they have a relationship and then things don’t work out and they go their separate ways. You know, likereal life.”
“Real life?” I ask in confusion. I can’t help but wonder why he thinks relationships don’t work out in real life. Two of his brothers are proof they do.
“Yeah. Surely you can’t think books like the one you gave me portray actual relationships. All that ‘happy ever after’ shit. That’s definitely not real life.”
“Okay…” I say slowly, walking over to him. “I think Nash and Paisley and Sophie and Cade might disagree.”
He shrugs and drags his hand through his hair. “They probably would, but look at all the heartache they had to go through to get it.”
“I’m willing to bet they’d say it was worth it.”
“Maybe. It’s not going to be something that’s in my future, though.”
“Why?”
“It just won’t. I won’t let it.” I start to ask him what he means, but he’s crossed the room and opened the door to the apartment before I can. “I’d better get back,” he calls over his shoulder, disappearing out of sight before I can even thank him for building my desk.
I’m left standing alone in my apartment, wondering what just happened and who the hell broke Seb Brookes’ heart. No one writes off love like that unless they’ve been so badly hurt it destroyed them. If that is what happened, he’s putting on a good show of being okay.
CHAPTERSEVEN
Seb
I’ve been in my office all night, trying to catch up on the work I should have done when I was reading the book Taylor gave me. I could blame the hour it took me to assemble her desk as the reason I’m behind, but it’s definitely the book. I’ve done nothing the past couple of days other than read, and now that I’ve finished the book, all I can think about is that fucking pink vibrator from earlier and what Taylor might be doing with it.
“Fuck,” I say, pushing down my wayward thoughts. While thinking about Taylor is a welcome distraction from thoughts of Sophie, she’s Paisley’s best friend and my tenant. It’s complicated. I’m not looking for anything more than friendship or a hook-up at best. Taylor definitely isn’t someone I can have meaningless sex with. What I said to her earlier was true. Falling in love isn’t in the cards for me. I’ve experienced it once and all it gave in return was heartbreak. I don’t need that, and especially not with Taylor. Sure, I’d noticed how beautiful she was at Thanksgiving. I’d have to be blind not to, but it must be all the sex in this damn book she lent me that’s giving me all these crazy thoughts. It has to be that. Lust and nothing more.
“I need a drink,” I mutter, pushing down thoughts of sex and Taylor.
When I walk out of the office, the noise from the bar hits me. With my door closed, I somehow manage to tune the noise out, and it always takes me by surprise just how loud it is when I step outside. I’m expecting the bar to be busy. There’s a singer playing tonight, and it’s always packed when there’s live music.
“Hey, boss. The singer’s a hit,” Alex shouts over the music as I join him behind the bar.
I look out into the crowd. He’s not wrong. It’s four or five deep at the bar, and there isn’t a free inch of floor space. I tip my head to Ryder who’s at the other end of the bar. All thoughts of grabbing a drink disappear when I see how busy it is, and I spend the next hour serving. When the singer ends her set, people start to leave, and it finally slows a little.
“God, that last hour was crazy,” Ryder says, collecting a bunch of empty glasses and loading them into the countertop dishwasher.
“I think we deserve a drink,” I tell him. “You more than me.” I grab three bottles of beer and pass him one. “Alex,” I shout. He’s down the other end of the bar. “Drink.” I hold up his bottle and he walks toward me, taking it from my outstretched hand.
“Thanks, man. I need this.”
He takes a pull before serving a group of women who ask for cocktails. I offer to help when they all order something different. When they finally have their drinks, I turn to find Taylor standing at the end of the bar. She’s wearing tiny sleep shorts and a tank that puts her perfect body on display. My eyes sweep over her and I know every jackass in the place is going to be looking at her dressed like that. When she looks up, her eyes find mine, and she smiles.
“You know you’re in the bar in your pajamas, right?” I tease as I make my way to her. “Your very small, very tight pajamas.”
She laughs. “Yes, I know. I’m drunk and I couldn’t be bothered to get dressed to come down here.”
