Chapter 4 #2
Heat filled my groin at the mere thought of fucking Sloane Harrow.
I knew she wanted me. Even before she’d subtly asked me if I wanted to have “cake” with her at the weekend, I’d caught her looking at me.
Had adamantly ignored the way my gut clenched at the invitation in her eyes.
Or the way time seemed to stop when she smiled that gorgeous bloody smile.
Never seen a smile so sweet but sexy like Sloane Harrow’s.
It bothered me I was aware of her. Not merely aware, but …
like all the north-seeking poles of my atoms lined up in the same direction whenever she was near, trying to pull me toward her like a magnet.
It made no sense. I barely knew her. And I intended to keep it that way.
She was too young, too complicated. Her daughter Callie was a good kid. Something had chased them here. I’d bet my life on it. There was no need for me to mess with a single mother. I didn’t do commitment. Sloane and Callie deserved better.
I glared at my ale. “Talk about her that way again, Brodan, and I’ll send you home to your wife with one fewer testicle.”
My friend choked on a laugh. “No offense meant.”
“She’s not for me.” I cut him a hard warning look.
His expression flattened. “I get it. It was a joke. Sorry.”
Tension rippled between us for a few seconds. I was determined more than ever to keep my distance from Sloane. Get her car fixed and stay out of her life. Except for watching her back when it came to Hoffman. I cleared my throat. “What do you know about Byron Hoffman?”
Brodan went easily with the subject change.
“Apparently, Lachlan heard a rumor that Hoffman sexually harassed costars and female members of the crew on several film sets. He didn’t want to grant him membership.
These days, that kind of behavior won’t last before someone makes it public.
However, until then, his father is a powerful man in Hollywood, and that swayed the other board members.
Despite Lachlan’s concerns, they gave him a membership.
You having problems with him? Lachlan would like that. Give him reason to oust him.”
My concern grew. This information only gave credence to Sloane’s story about him trapping her against her cart. The thought of it made me want to rip the bastard’s hands off.
“Get a feeling around him,” I hedged, not wanting to share any more of Sloane’s business. Especially not something that affected the job she depended upon. “I’ll keep an eye on him.”
For a while after that, Brodan distracted me, catching me up on the whisky venture he and Lachlan had undertaken.
They were opening a distillery outside Ardnoch, something that would take a good few years to develop, but Brodan was enjoying the process.
We talked about finding somewhere to watch the NFL kickoff game next month since we’d both gotten into American football while living in LA.
It had been awhile since we’d caught a game.
I told him about Chloe, a younger woman I’d hooked up with in Inverness.
She was a hairdresser. She was also a mistake.
I didn’t know if it was that she was too young to understand the nuance of casual sex or if it was my fault for going back for a second round.
Probably a bit of both. But now the lass was pestering me constantly, and not answering her calls and texts didn’t seem to send the message it usually did.
Brodan was ribbing me about it when Monroe called.
Like a puppy on a leash, he finished his pint and left me in the pub, happy to be called home.
Part of me felt smug that I didn’t need to deal with someone checking in on me, wondering where I was, what I was doing.
But Brodan was a different man from the one he’d been when we arrived in Ardnoch.
He’d been a haunted man back then. If I was honest, it wasn’t just our Scottish blood that bonded us.
We didn’t talk about it, but we’d recognized something broken in each other.
Confiding our secrets came later once we’d built trust. But Brodan had since faced his ghosts.
I might have been a soldier and Brodan an actor … but which one of us was braver? The one who worked through his shit to make a life with someone? Or the one who pretended his ghosts had stayed buried?
The thought fucked me up.
As if on cue, my phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out to see another text from Chloe.
Hey, I dnt no if ur gettin ma texts bt am free 2nite. U up 4 it? xx
I sighed heavily. I wasn’t one to pussyfoot around the truth, and I’d rather be cruel to be kind.
My thumbs flew over the keys.
Thanks for the good times but not interested in anything more.
A few seconds later, she texted back:
Bt I thnk we hve somthin good here xx
Irritation and guilt filled me as I replied:
Sorry, don’t feel that way. I won’t be in touch again. Wish you well.
What followed was a stream of abuse that killed my guilt. She called me every dirty name under the sun, one quick, misspelled angry text coming in after the other, until there were twenty unread texts sitting in my inbox.
My fault for not reading the lass correctly.
She was too young. I shouldn’t have gone there.
After throwing back the last of my ale, I blocked and deleted Chloe.
Then I threw some cash on the bar for Jess, nodded at a local as I strolled out of the Gloaming, and tried to ignore the unease riding my shoulders.
I didn’t know why I felt so out of sorts.
I could have done with the distraction of sex tonight. Someone to release my tension on. Instead, I had no choice but to go home alone and take care of myself in the shower.
As I was chasing release, I didn’t think of Chloe.
It wasn’t a faceless woman or a past lover.
It was someone real whose naked body I could only imagine, whose smile lit up the fucking room, who came with a scream of my name in my fantasies.
Her name released from my mouth on a hoarse shout as I climaxed around my fist.
That name echoed off the tiles, and I leaned my forehead against the damp ceramic as I caught my breath.
Sloane.
I squeezed my eyes shut again.
Fuck.
Good thing I was an expert at compartmentalization.
Just because I fantasized about a woman didn’t mean I wanted anything real from her. Fantasy and reality were easily separated.
I could force myself to forget coming to the fantasy of fucking Sloane Harrow.
And I knew I could because I’d been doing just that for the last nine months.