CHAPTER 4 Ford Bradley
She’d Be Perfect For You
I’m wearing a hat pulled down low when I spot her across the space separating us. I’m waiting by baggage claim, trying my best to be incognito, when I see her stepping onto the escalator, and I’m transported back twelve years to when I had already turned seventeen and she was about to turn fifteen.
I was a junior—about to be a senior. She was a freshman.
It was the last day of school, and my parents were out at some soiree as they always were, so Dex threw a party at the house.
He was twenty-one, old enough to purchase liquor for all of us underage kids, already home for the summer from college.
I had a couple drinks, but I was far from drunk when I saw her. She was there because Archer invited her—or maybe because she tagged along. She was always over at our house, and the more I saw her, the more I flirted with her. The more I flirted with her, the more I wanted to kiss her.
She was too young for me, and she was always there with Archer, not there for me. None of that stopped me from being attracted to her anyway.
I was filling up my cup at the keg in the kitchen when she marched up to me and asked me for a beer.
“Liquor before beer, you’re in the clear. Beer before liquor will make you sicker,” I told her.
She laughed, clearly having no clue what I meant.
“I saw you take that shot of rum before. If you drink beer now and then go back to rum, you won’t make it through the night without puking,” I said.
She wrinkled her nose, and it wasn’t the first time that I noticed the smattering of freckles dusting her nose and cheeks.
Her eyes were mesmerizing as they met mine. “I’ll risk it.”
It felt like she was challenging me to something, but I wasn’t exactly sure what.
“You don’t strike me as a risk-taker,” I said.
She glanced around, saw that we were alone for the moment, and we sort of leaned forward at the same time. Our mouths collided, and fucking fireworks exploded overhead.
I hooked my palm around her neck to pull her a little closer to me as I opened my mouth to hers.
She tasted like raspberries and honey.
It was pure heaven. It was a feeling I have yet to recreate.
I sank into her, wanting this to last forever even though I knew deep down it had to be fleeting. I was reaching to set my cup down on the counter so I could wrap my other arm around her waist to pull her flush against me when I heard my sister’s voice calling me.
“Ford?”
My sister wasn’t in the kitchen…yet. She was in the next room. She didn’t catch us kissing.
I didn’t want to let her go, but I knew Everleigh was on her way.
I added up the situation. Archer had decided to play baseball, much to my father’s dismay, and it seemed like he was drifting from the rest of us.
I couldn’t be caught kissing his girl here in the kitchen even if they weren’t officially together.
I forced myself to pull away. I had to.
“There you are!” Everleigh said as she pushed through the swinging door into the kitchen. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
She was completely oblivious to the fact that she’d just interrupted my kiss with Tatum.
A kiss I’ve never told a soul about.
We never talked about it. I chalked it up to her being drunk and forgetting about it.
But it was always there for me, always simmering in the background, a memory I will never let go of even though I have to. She was with my brother for years. It’s not like she can just hop into a life with me now.
I pull myself from that memory and try to push it back to the past where it belongs as I watch her ride the escalator.
She’s chatting with a woman who looks to be around her age, as if she and the woman are the best of friends.
She pulls out her phone, and I watch as the woman she’s with says something and Tatum taps on her phone.
She glances up at her friend, who pulled out her phone, too, and flashes it at Tatum.
From the looks of it, she just exchanged numbers with this person.
That’s Tatum. She can meet someone on a flight and end up with dinner plans next week. Or maybe she’ll be this woman’s wedding planner.
A little girl on the escalator behind her says something to Tatum, and she turns around and starts chatting up the little girl.
She hasn’t even seen me yet, and she’s surrounded in this airport by people who already regard her as a friend. She has this electric vibe surrounding her, this light that draws people in, this inexplicable thing that people want to be a part of.
And she looks like a goddamn fairy princess as the escalator carries her down closer to me.
Curled blonde locks fall to the middle of her back.
She’s wearing a summery, flowery dress with heels.
She’s almost always in heels. I practically see wings sprouting behind her and a halo over her head, her magic wand glowing in her palm.
Or her cell phone. Either way, she’s glowing, and everyone in the vicinity can see it.
When the ride ends, she glances up, and our eyes connect across the space. A little smile plays at her lips, and she points me out to her new friend before she rushes across the small space separating us.
I heave in a deep breath, and when she reaches me, first I spot the smattering of freckles that lie across her nose and cheeks before she falls into my open arms as we hug hello, her honey perfume wrapping around me and giving me a sense of comfort that she’s really here.
It’s the same honey perfume she’s worn since high school, back when we spent a lot more time in geographical proximity to one another. A lot has changed. I see her when I visit Vegas, which isn’t as often as I’d like. I see her when she’s in town for a Vegas Heat baseball game.
That’s about it.
Her parents live in Florida, but they’re in Boca Raton, nearly four hours away from me. It may as well be Vegas for how far it is.
We study each other for a few seconds, smiles on both our faces that we’re together again.
Smiles for two different reasons, though. Her because she’s with her friend again. Me because…well, I should probably stop thinking that way.
“Ford, my God, it’s been way too long!” she says as she hugs me tightly. She pulls out of my arms to introduce me to her friend, but I can’t seem to tear my brown eyes from her gorgeous, light blue ones. “This is Morgan. We met on the plane and became instant besties. Ford, Morgan. Morgan, Ford.”
I force myself to look at Morgan. She’s beautiful, too, and I’m certain this pair of blondes turned plenty of heads as they walked off the jetway and into the terminal.
I hold out a hand to shake hers. “Pleasure.”
“She’s a middle school math teacher. Can you believe it? She was in Vegas for her friend’s bachelorette party but lives here in Tampa. And she’s a totally huge Beasts fan.”
“My parents have season tickets, and I still bum a few off my dad every season,” she says.
“We’re doing our best to make you proud,” I say with a smile.
I wouldn’t be making the kind of money I’m making if we didn’t have a sea of fans just like Morgan, so I play the nice guy card even though I’m ready to get the hell out of here.
This is all nice and great, but the longer we hang around, the better the chance others will recognize me. That’s why I want to get out of here.
Not because I want to get Tatum alone. Of course not. That would be ridiculous. She’s my brother’s ex. Recent ex.
I glance at Tatum. “We’re at baggage carousel two,” I say.
“Let’s head that way,” Tatum says, and she links her arm through my elbow.
“Excuse me, I’m going to head to the restroom,” Morgan says, and she heads in that direction while Tatum leans in a little closer to me.
“She’d be perfect for you, Ford,” she says, her tone full of excitement as she plays matchmaker.
My heart drops as I feel myself physically deflating at those five little words. She’d be perfect for you.
Excitement is not quite the emotion I’m feeling.
There’s only one woman who’d be perfect for me, but she’s not an option. Clearly.
I don’t want her to play matchmaker for me and some other woman. It always felt like she was off the table, but this pulls it even further from the table than I ever imagined.
Her suitcase arrives, her friend returns, and we bid her goodbye as we head toward my car. Once we’re buckled and on the highway headed toward the high-rise I live in that overlooks Tampa Bay, she says, “How’s your mom doing?”
“Liam called me a couple days ago to let me know she broke her back. She’s in the hospital.”
“Oh, God. I’m so sorry.” She reaches over to the hand resting on the console between us and gives it a squeeze, her touch sending a shock of need straight down to my balls. “Does Archer know?”
A cold dose of reality seems to shudder through me at the mention of my brother. “I’m not sure. I haven’t spoken with him.”
“I can tell him. I stayed with a friend the last few nights, so I haven’t seen him,” she says.
“How are your parents doing?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Fine.” She shrugs. “My dad wears too many flowers on his shirts, and my mom forces him to go out dancing a few times a week with her. They’re living it up in their Boca retirement era.”
I chuckle, imagining her father in his flowery shirts and her mother dressed in something to match as they dance the night away.
Is it too much to ask for in my own future?
“Depending how long I stay in town, I may pop down to visit them. Or meet halfway or something. How about your dad? What’s the latest there?” she asks.
“I don’t really know,” I murmur. “Liam said Dad heard that there’s a grand jury, so we’ll see what happens next.”
“What does that mean?” she asks.
"A grand jury meets—usually in secret, but not always—reviews the evidence, and they decide if there's enough evidence to issue an indictment," I explain.
“And what’s an indictment? I don’t really watch those lawyer-y shows. I stick to dating shows, so these fancy terms mean zilch to me.”
I chuckle. “A formal charge typically followed by an arrest.”
“Oh, shit. What would be the charges?” she asks.
“Federal law prohibits illegal gambling operations, so there’s that. But I’d imagine they’d also get him for tax evasion, making false statements to federal agents. Maybe money laundering, possibly racketeering. Depends on what they’ve found and the extent of what he’s done.”
“What about Arch?” she asks, her voice softer this time.
“What about him?”
“He’s being investigated, you know. He refused to let me get involved with Bradley Group, but the hypocrite signed off on paperwork for your father, and now he’s being investigated.” She shakes her head as she stares out the window.
“I think we’re all being investigated.” For the first time, it strikes me that maybe the whole reason Archer ended things with her was to protect her from our family.
Maybe that’s where the finality came from.
But she’s still here—just around a different brother now.
Maybe it would do her well to remove herself entirely from the Bradley family.
“What did you want to use Bradley Group for?”
“I don’t know,” she mutters. “I just had this crazy thought that my destination wedding brand was something I could partner with Bradley Group on. I’ve been around your family for half my life, and it felt like the right sort of partnership, you know?
Keep it in the family even though I’ve never technically been family. ”
“I don’t think it’s a crazy idea,” I say softly. Truthfully, it’s a beautiful dream, a wonderful goal. It’s something I really believe she could pull off, and I love that she wants to keep it in the family. “You know Bradley Group merged with Van Buren, right? It’s VanBrad now.”
“I heard that. But I think I’ll always think of it as Bradley Group.”
“I could help you with that,” I offer, and I’m not sure why I say it. It’s clearly something Archer didn’t want, but, well…I’m not Archer, and if he was trying to protect her from our father, he’s a separate entity from VanBrad now that Madden extracted him from the company he founded.
“You’d do that?” she asks, an air of appreciation and incredulity in her tone.
She has no idea that I’d do anything for her.
I pull into the parking deck. The building I live in is a hotel, but above the hotel, from levels fifteen to thirty-eight, are residences.
And residents get a shitload of amenities, including a rooftop pool and sundeck as well as hospitality services.
I’ve ordered meals from the four restaurants located in the hotel more times than I’m proud to admit.
We take the private residence elevators up to the thirty-fifth floor, and I unlock the door to my three-bed, three-bath luxury condo.
She’s been here before, and as is her custom when we walk into my place, she rushes to the windows. “God, I always forget how gorgeous this place is.”
“It’s been a while since you’ve been here,” I say, and I drag her suitcase down the hall to one of the guest rooms.
The last time she was here, she and Archer came to visit and only stayed for a few hours. She dragged Archer. He was quiet the whole time while she filled the space with her light.
Every time I walk by the windows, I picture her standing at them, her fingertips lightly resting on the glass in awe of my view, just as she is now when I return from the guest room.
I draw in a breath.
“Two years,” she says.
I guess I hadn’t realized it had been that long. More time to grow further from my brother. More time to push away the feelings I can’t seem to let go of. And having her here in this space? It’s certainly not going to get any easier.