Crazy Imperfect Hearts

Chapter Four

Lucas

I’m going over Marti’s latest updated designs for our rebranding. It’s something she’s been working on for months. As Chief Marketing Officer, I’m working closely with her. We’re on the cusp of being able to debut Montana Winery’s upgraded look. We’ve wanted to compete with the big wineries for a decade, and I think this is the first step in accomplishing that.

I glance at all of the Post-it notes lining my desk. Then I look at my calendars—all three of them—when my mind goes back to Friday night. I’d bet my left nut Regan Lucas doesn’t even own a calendar. She said she opens early on Saturdays. But I have it on good authority that she opens when she damn well pleases. Sometimes eight am, sometimes ten forty-five. I guess it depends on her mood and maybe the general state of any given hangover.

It's not that I think she’s a huge drinker. I mean, who in the hell gets drunk off strawberry vodka? Humorously, I shake my head at the thought.

The screen on my computer goes black with inactivity and I see my reflection. My shirt is buttoned up to the neckline. My tie matches the jacket currently hanging on a rack by the door. And every hair on my head has been meticulously combed.

What a contrast to the flamboyant brunette bombshell that is Regan.

My loins—is that even a thing?—start to burn like a fire is inside me. I wonder if she’d be up for another round. After all, I’d like to be able to remember every second of it, which is not something I’m capable of after drinking as much as I had. For a second there, I thought she might have even faked her orgasm. But I could swear her body shuddered under me. And those sounds she made have been echoing in my dreams for days.

And… did I even touch her breasts? Take off her bra? Maybe I was afraid of having a Forrest Gump moment and coming in my goddamn boxers. It’s all so fuzzy. My need to have these questions answered has me wanting to risk another night with her.

And it is a risk. One night is a hookup. Two may come with expectations. Despite her lackadaisical demeanor, I suspect Regan has one hell of a head on her shoulders. She knows exactly who I am and how far away she should keep her heart from me.

Heart. Not pussy.

Unable to get my head on straight enough to work, I go down the hall to Blake’s office. My youngest brother is COO—Chief Operating Officer—overseeing the day-to-day operation of the winery.

He looks up from his computer. “What’s up?”

I walk in, shut the door, and sit across from him.

He reclines in his chair, perches his jean-clad legs up on his desk, ankles crossed, and eyes the door. “A closed-door meeting. We don’t have many of those around here. Mind telling me what the others shouldn’t be hearing?”

Settling back into the chair, I wonder how I’m going to get this out without sounding like a douchebag. But I came to Blake and not Dallas for a reason. It wasn’t so long ago when Blake was a real player; a guy who’s probably had more one-night stands than I have fingers and toes. Whereas Dallas has been with exactly two women in his entire life.

I fall somewhere in between, having been with my share of women, but all had been classified as a relationship. Even if some only lasted weeks or months, all of them were expected to go somewhere. I never once slept with a woman with the intention of it only being that one time, never to call or possibly even see her again. That was Blake’s forte, not mine.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been entranced by my parents’ long, loving, carefree relationship. They make being married seem fun and easy, although I’m sure neither is true all the time. And yet, the only thing I’ve managed to do is disappoint my mom and dad—four times. More if you count the other breakups that never made it to engagement status. Maybe deep down, I’m afraid I could never have what they have. Or that I can’t live up to the standard. So when it gets down to it, I bail rather than let myself find out it’s all an illusion and the perfect marriage doesn’t exist.

“Brother?”

Blake’s voice pulls me from my self-analysis. I look him in the eye and do what I came here to do. “I might have done something a little stupid, and I’m embarrassed. Well, not embarrassed as in I’m ashamed of who. It’s more like I don’t want people thinking she’s going to be the next jilted bride. Because it’s not like that.”

He holds his hand up to stop me. “Slow down. Start from the beginning.”

I crack my neck. “The night we saw Lissa’s engagement, I did something.”

He chuckles. “You mean you did some one .”

I nod.

“Ah, shit. Don’t tell me you hooked up with Sheriff Niles’s daughter.”

“No. No one like that.”

“Why in the hell are you dancing around this, Luke? Spit it out already.”

I look at the family picture hanging behind him. The perfect portrait of the perfect family. Blake, Ellie, and Maisy look blissfully happy. Just another reminder of something I’m never destined to have. I sigh. “It’s Regan.”

“Lucas?” he belts out an octave higher.

On the defensive now, I blurt out, “You got a problem with that?”

“With her—no. She’s one of the nicest people I know. But therein lies the problem. You got drunk, couldn’t keep your dick in your pants, went after the first woman you saw, and now you’re here asking me how to let her down easy.”

“You’ve got it all wrong, Blake. She kicked me out after.”

Laughter fills the air between us—all his .

“Come on, man,” I say. “Cut me a break. I’ve never been kicked out before.”

He cocks his head, no longer laughing. “Right. I forgot. You only sleep with the next future Mrs. Montana who never quite earns the title.”

I pick up the stress ball on the corner of his desk and throw it at him.

He catches it without missing a beat and squeezes. “So you had your first official hookup.” His head shakes slowly. “How you made it to thirty without one baffles me.” He toasts me with his Montana Winery coffee mug. “Cheers to popping your one-night stand cherry.”

When I don’t smile, laugh, or get up, he stares at me strangely.

“Luke,” he says, in a commanding voice reminiscent of our father. “You’re not telling me you want Regan Lucas to be your fifth almost-missus, are you?”

“No. Hell no. I’m just wondering what the protocol is for… seeing if she wants to do it again.”

He leans way back in his chair, thinking. The fingers on each of his hands tap together then steeple under his chin. “What you’re really saying is you want a no-strings, friends-with-benefits relationship.”

I shrug. “At this point, that may be the only kind of relationship I should be having. I don’t intend on hurting another woman, Blake.”

“Well, it’s up to the girl. It’s always up to the girl.”

I breathe a small sigh of relief. “She said on Friday that she knew what it was, and she was okay with it.”

“Be careful,” he warns. “That’s how a lot of problems start. She could have just been trying to…” He trails off, immersed in his own thoughts. “You know what, I doubt Regan would do that.”

“Do what?”

“Try to trap you. You know, for the money. But no way, that’s not her.” He sits up straighter, feet now on the floor. “I say go for it, brother.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure. She’s single. She’s got a good head on her shoulders keeping a small business going. And man… those curves. She’s smoking hot.” He whispers the last part as if doing so won’t in any way be disrespectful to his wife. “But I’ll deny ever saying it.”

A mental picture of Regan in her underwear is suddenly front and center. “Tell me about it.” I shake it away and ask, “So exactly how do I have that conversation?”

“Like a thirty-year-old adult who helps run a billion-dollar winery.”

I furrow my brow. “This isn’t a business transaction, Blake.”

“No? Maybe it’s better if you both look at it as one. No feelings. Big payout.”

My head bobs up and down. I like the way he thinks. I get up to leave, then turn, one last thing niggling in the far corner of my mind. “Has a girl ever, um, faked it with you?”

He’s trying to mask his amusement, but he’s not doing a very good job. “I’m sure it’s happened. There were a lot of girls. Honestly, though, back then I wouldn’t have cared one way or the other.”

He looks ashamed. He truly has changed.

“So that’s what this is all about?” he asks. “You proving to yourself that you can get her off?”

“I’m not saying it didn’t happen. I’m just not a hundred percent sure.”

“Adulting isn’t that hard, Lucas. Try being one and ask her.”

“Since when does the youngest brother give the oldest one advice?”

“When he asks.”

I lean against the door frame. “You’ve really grown. Ellie and Maisy have been good for you.”

He holds both arms out in display. “Living proof that a leopard can change his spots.”

And now I’m thinking of Regan again. Her mouth. Her soft, sensuous body. Her maybe-maybe-not orgasm.

I wave a hand and try to make an exit before Blake can notice my tenting trousers.

He calls me back and I stick my head around the corner. “I’m in kind of a hurry, what is it?”

“A reporter showed up earlier. Dallas urged him to leave.”

I huff. “Urged?”

He shrugs. “In his own passive-aggressive way of course.”

“A few have tried to intercept me outside my apartment building.”

“Vultures,” he says. “It’ll die down.”

I nod, my erection fully deflated now, and walk away.