Chapter Fifteen
B rady
Brady grabbed a pint glass and tilted it under the tap, letting the amber ale flow in a smooth, practiced pour. “One of our best sellers,” he said, sliding it to the blonde at the bar.
“Thanks.” She brushed her fingers against his as she took the glass, her lashes batting.
He offered a polite nod, stepping back to wipe the bar even though it didn’t need it. His old self would’ve leaned into the flirtation—offered a compliment, asked where she was from, maybe even suggested she stick around for a tour. But now? It felt empty.
The blonde took a sip and leaned forward. “You own the place?”
He nodded. “One of three partners.”
“Impressive.” She offered a sultry smile. “Can I get another one of these?” She lifted the pint glass still full of beer. She pointed to a raven-haired woman with blue eyes sitting at a table behind her. “My friend would like one too.”
“Gotcha.” He grabbed another pint glass from the shelf and poured the second amber before sliding it across the bar.
Damn it. Under normal circumstances, this would be an opportunity—possibly for a threesome. He just didn’t have it in him. “Haven’t seen either of you in here before. Your first time?”
“Yes.” She ran the tip of her finger over the rim of one her pint glasses. “Elena and I are in the area for a conference. Concierge at our hotel said this was the best brewery in the area.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” He smiled. They had a reputation in the area that he was proud of. He was glad to know that hotels were recommending them. “What conference?” Orlando hosted everything, so he was always curious.
The blonde’s smile widened like she’d been waiting for him to ask that question. “Picture Comic-Con but for sex,” she said with a wink. “New products, demonstrations, workshops, panel discussions.”
He let out a low chuckle, surprised at how casual she was about it. “Interesting.” She’d swung the door wide opened. All he had to do was walk through it. “That sounds ... educational.”
“It is. Pleasure is a serious business.” She sipped her beer. “But it’s also a lot of fun.” She tilted her head. “You should come by. The expo’s open to industry folks. But we could probably get you in.”
He laughed, the sound foreign and almost strange lately. Six months ago this conversation would have been a dream come true. Two sexy women in town for a sex toy conference willing and able to test the products. “I own a brewery. I deal in ales and stouts, not vibrators or cock rings.”
“There is a surprising overlap. Ever heard of beer-flavored lube?”
His jaw dropped in disbelief. He’d known of cherry flavored lube but he’d clearly let the sex industry pass him by. “You’re kidding.”
“Not in the least.”
He shook his head.
Despite not having any physical reaction to the blonde, he could have a conversation. And the topic was interesting. Maybe his libido would kick start. Maybe he’d finally stop thinking about Jane. “Did you want to start a tab?”
The blonde nodded and handed him a card. He glanced at it. Maya Shields.
“Thanks, Maya. Just swing back up here when you’re ready for a refill.”
He leaned against the bar and rubbed a hand across his jaw. His chest ached with a dull, constant throb that no amount of distraction seemed to numb. Maya was stunning. She was flirty, confident, and everything that used to be his type—hot, available, uncomplicated.
But it wasn’t enough anymore.
He used to chase women like her to feel something—anything—but now that he had something real, Maya’s curves, her sexy smile, even the sex-toy conference talk—it all felt hollow. Empty.
And Jane ... she was miles away, probably barefoot in the sand with the sun on her face, forgetting all about him. Meditating or breathing through the pain he’d caused her. Trying to move on. Like she should. Like he had told her to.
He dug his fingers into the edge of the bar, jaw tightening. He didn’t want her to move on. He wanted her happy, but not with someone else. Not on a new path where he didn’t belong.
She deserved more than what he’d given. She’d deserved honesty and effort. Instead, he’d hidden behind Rex, behind his past, behind his fear.
He blew out a breath and glanced at Maya’s table again. She caught his eye and smiled, beckoning him with a lift of her pint of beer.
He hesitated, then turned his attention back to the bar and began restocking napkins instead.
Maybe tonight wasn’t the night he got over Jane.
Maybe he didn’t want to.
“Brady,” Sam whispered behind him. “That blonde at the end of the bar is requesting you as her bartender.” Sam chuckled. “I think she’s into you.”
“Thanks.” He bumped Sam’s shoulder. He held up a finger to Maya as he finished serving his current customers, then strolled down the bar. “Another round?”
“Thanks, but no. We’re heading back to the hotel.” She pushed her two empties across the bar. “Close out the tab.”
He rung her tab. She signed and tapped the counter with her freshly manicured nails.
A pause. Then she said, “Room 1142. Hyatt near the convention center.” She slid the plastic keycard across the bar like it meant nothing.
Then she lowered her head just enough to meet his eyes through thick lashes—an invitation wrapped in seduction.
Without another word, she turned and walked out, her friend trailing behind, both of them laughing like they owned the night.
Brady stood in the back lot of Dog Tired, leaning against the side of his Mercedes, his hand buried deep in his pocket. His fingers traced the smooth, cool surface of the hotel keycard.
He shouldn’t go.
But maybe—just maybe—banging it out with someone else would help clear his head. Maybe the only way past Jane was straight through someone else.
No strings. No vulnerability. No chance of getting hurt or hurting anyone.
“Fuck it,” he muttered.
He slid into the driver’s seat, started the car and let the low purr of the engine feed his adrenaline. The tires squealed slightly as he pulled onto the road.
The valet at the Hyatt gave a knowing nod as he handed off the keys. Eleven stories up, Brady stood outside Room 1142 with the keycard in hand. He knocked. Because despite what this was, or wasn’t, he wasn’t about to barge in uninvited.
The door flew open almost instantly.
Maya laughed, full-throated and unfiltered. She wore nothing but a pair of lacy black panties, hip cocked, lips glossy. Her surgically enhanced chest barely moved with her laughter.
He froze.
She was nothing like Jane. Nothing. Where Jane was all subtlety and grace, Maya was bold. Jane’s hair shimmered like morning sun. Maya’s was bleached to the edge of platinum.
He swallowed hard. He was here. That had to count for something.
This was supposed to be easy. Clean. A decision without consequences. So why did the air feel thick with guilt?
Stop thinking about Jane.
“You coming in or just gonna stare at me all night?” she asked in a sultry voice.
He stepped inside. A citrusy scent permeated the air.
Vibrant floral paintings decorated the cream walls.
A soft white comforter covered the king-sized bed.
Maya had clothes strewn over the lounger near the large window.
The blackout and sheer curtains hung wide open, leaving a view of the very active pool area below.
He could do this. He used to only do this.
He bent slightly, placed a hand on her bare waist, and felt her lean into him.
But even with her skin under his palm, the fire didn’t burn.
The electricity that used to surge with lust was absent.
Instead, all he saw behind his eyes was Jane—her laughter, her tears, the tremble in her voice when she told him— You could have me. You just choose not to.
He stepped back.
“Shit,” he muttered and ran a hand over his face.
Maya tilted her head. “You okay?”
He shook his head, a humorless laugh escaping. “You’re gorgeous, and I’m a fucking idiot.” He pulled the keycard from his pocket and dropped it on the dresser. “This was a mistake. I can’t do this.”
“Are you married?” She huffed, her gaze dropping to his left hand.
“No,” he said quietly. “I’m not. But I am very much in love with someone else.”
There it was. Out in the open. Not to Jane. Or Rex. But to someone. Someone besides himself knew the truth—he was indisputably, unequivocally, hopelessly in love. Madly. Deeply.
Maya tossed back the last of her drink, the ice clinking in the tumbler. “Your loss,” she said with resignation.
He gave a small nod. Without another word, he turned and walked out the door.