Page 12

12

brITT

TWO MONTHS LATER

“ W here are you going dressed like that, Brat?”

I stop in the kitchen doorway and frown at my brother as he flips open a pizza box. I look down at my outfit, at my four-inch pumps and black dress that goes almost to my knees. It’s form fitting, but it’s formal and decent.

“What?”

His eyes slide up and down my dress. “Nothing.” He shrugs. “You look pretty.” His nose scrunches up, like it really bothers him that I look pretty.

I look more like Schoolteacher-Britt tonight than the other Britt. No nose ring, it clashes with my dress. No flashing ink, no visible belly bar. I look thoroughly respectable, because my additions clash with my Audrey Hepburn look.

“Oh, well, thanks.” Smiling, I walk to the fridge and grab a bottle of water. No need for cranberry juice, because tonight isn’t a club night. “I have a date.”

My brother’s eyes narrow. “With who? Is he a criminal?”

“No.” Laughing, I unscrew the lid on my water. “I really don’t think he is.”

Brad’s the PE teacher at the same school I teach at. There are two schools in this town – sitting on opposite sides of town – and students are allocated by their address. I attended the other school as a student, but as a teacher, I’m employed by the school across town .

Mine is all in one; kindergarten right through to graduation. Geographically, we’re on one property, but the students are split so the six-year-olds are on one side and the sixteen-year-olds are a little further away.

Brad is twenty-seven years old, wears brand name clothes and sunglasses, has neatly manicured hands, and drives an Audi A3.

I’m genuinely concerned that he may be compensating for lack of other assets. My theory remains intact thus far; the guys with the small dicks tend to have powerful cars. Except Jack, the douchey guy I met months ago. He might have had a good-sized dick, but I’ll go ahead and assume his car was compensating for his lack of personality and kindness.

You win some, you lose some.

I haven’t seen Jack since that night. I haven’t heard from him. I haven’t thought of him until now. His brother and sister-in-law were in my office on the Monday after my meltdown in front of his entire family – His. Entire. Family! I still want to die – and they assured me they don’t think I’m a dirty whore. Apparently Jack’s in the middle of a major life crisis, and she assured me he’s not normally such a prick.

Prick.

Her word.

Either way, her assurances helped me put him aside and move on with my life, and the fact I haven’t seen or heard from him has helped my humiliation lessen.

“Britt.” X clicks his fingers in my face. “I asked you a question.”

“Huh?”

“Who is he? Your date?”

“Oh.” Shaking away the thoughts of another man, I focus on my brother’s light blue eyes. “He’s Brad, from school.”

“Is he a criminal? A murderer? Rapist? Addict? Does he hurt people?”

I smile and think of the man that’s just a little too proper to be a criminal. “No, I don’t think he does any of that stuff.” To be honest, I think he spends most of his time talking to himself in the mirror.

“You don’t think …” With narrow eyes and a sigh, he chucks me under the chin. “Be safe. I’ll be at work. Call me if you need me.”

I shake my head dramatically, because two can play that game. “You’re always working these days, X. You need to slow down, find a nice girl, get married.”

I’m teasing. I’m feeding him the same line Mom has fed both of my brothers for years. She’s devastated her thirty-three-year-old son hasn’t settled down yet – and don’t even get her started on my middle brother. That’s a can of worms for another day .

Then there’s me, almost a full decade younger, who my parents wish never grew up.

“Ha, you got jokes.” X steps across the room and doesn’t even try to hide his rolling eyes. “Whatever, Brat. Go out, have fun. But not too much. I’ll be around. Call me if you need me or if he’s a douche.”

I smile as the other douche flashes through my mind.

Twenty minutes later, I slide out of Brad’s fancy car and step onto the curb out front of a nice restaurant in town. It’s nearly eight p.m. and the place is only half packed – not because it’s a crap restaurant, but because it’s way overpriced.

I’ve been here a bunch of times before with my family – this is our go-to for the big celebratory nights; school graduation days, X’s academy graduation day, X’s promotion, my middle brother’s new job. I know the food here is good, but it’s not a hundred dollars a plate good.

Either way, Brad asked me out – for the fourth time this year – I finally said yes, and here we are.

Passing his keys to the young valet and softly placing his hand on the small of my back, he leads me through the doors with a kind smile. As soon as we step inside, his hand comes to my hip and pulls me comfortably close.

I haven’t been back to the club since that night with Jack, and I haven’t been out with anyone else since. It feels good to have a man’s hand on my hip. Vain or not, Brad has good reason to like his reflection. He’s very handsome, and he’s nice to boot. He’s always smiling, always flirting, always saying nice things.

My previous date refusals had nothing to do with him, and everything to do with me. I just didn’t feel like it.

Sitting at home with my brothers and eating junk food in front of the TV sounded like more fun, so that’s what I did.

“You look beautiful tonight, Britt. Did I tell you that yet?”

I smile at the feather soft touch of his lips above my ear. “Thank you. I’m excited to be here. This is a nice restaurant.”

Holding me close, he leads me toward a table when the hostess asks us to follow. We move through scattered tables and past noisy patrons, stopping in the back corner where he holds my hand and helps me slide into the candlelit booth.

As soon as the lady takes our drink orders and leaves, Brad’s smiling eyes come back to mine. “You’ve been here before?”

“Yeah.” Turning so I can meet his eyes without kinking my neck, I tuck long hair behind my ear and grin as his eyes shoot down to my exposed thigh. He can try to be a gentleman, but a guy’s going to look. “Uh-huh. I’ve been here a bunch of times. It’s good food.”

Nodding enthusiastically, his eyes flick between mine, my thigh, and the menu. He’s like a cat with ADHD. “They cook a really good steak here.”

“They do…”

“So what changed your mind?”

I tilt my head to the side. “Changed my mind? About what?”

Laughing softly, his perfect teeth make me smile. “About me.” His intense eyes study mine. “I thought you’d never agree to a date.”

“I don’t know. I just wasn’t into dating for a bit. School keeps me busy, my family keeps me busy. I was just more interested in napping and hanging out, so dating wasn’t my thing. This time,” I shrug, “I dunno. You asked, and for once, I thought ‘ why not? Could be fun.’”

He laughs at my poor enthusiasm. “I knew I’d wear you down one day. My plan for world domination is working right on schedule.”

Laughing, I lean into him. “Right on schedule. I’m glad I didn’t mess up your plans.”

The next hour flies by in a whir of laughter, steak, pasta, and wine. I can’t even say I’m having a crappy time. The more we consume – though neither of us are drunk – the less we find ourselves in awkward silences.

Every now and again, Brad will end a sentence and it’ll feel closed, like the steak comment earlier, where my only response is an awkward ‘yeah.’ It’s hard to follow that with something, anything, but usually, by some great otherworld divination, usually we’re interrupted by waiters coming or going, and we can pretend the awkwardness didn’t happen.

The universe wants me to be here in this restaurant tonight.

Brad tells me how he didn’t grow up here, but that he moved here three years ago to start his job at our school. He’d taught at another school in the city previously, but he said he never felt that same spark that he feels now, that connection to want to stay, so he packed up, applied for a transfer, and voila.

He’s the youngest of three siblings, though – awesome first date topic – his oldest brother passed away when Brad was still a teenager. That was one of the closed what-do-I-follow-this-up-with topics, but he shook it off, took a swallow of wine, and we went back to laughing.

I told him about my brothers, about their jobs, about our relationship dynamic. I told him that I like to dance, and about my best friends, though of course, he already knows Laine from school .

My phone vibrated in my purse at nine, and when I checked in case it was important, I found our group chat blowing up.

They were checking in to see if I needed to be bailed out.

I didn’t.

I don’t have any overwhelming chemistry with this man, he won’t be the love of my life, but I’m not miserable while sharing a meal and company with him. So I stay.

The conversation is light and easy, and the food’s delicious.

That’s enough for me. And it’s definitely better than the treatment I’ve received from some men in the past.

As the hour nears ten o’clock, the tables empty and refill and the wait staff move more diners through, the restaurant seems to turn louder as time goes on.

There are less people in here, but the air buzzes with satisfied bellies and happiness.

After my third and final glass of wine for the night, I excuse myself to use the bathroom. Scooting from the booth and letting Brad help me up, I sigh when he bravely steps in and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of my lips.

I sigh, not because the kiss fizzles all the way down to my toes and shoots fireworks out my ears, but because it doesn’t .

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I want to feel something, I want the butterflies in my stomach, but it just won’t happen.

I fear poor Brad is being shuffled into the friend zone, but the good news is, tomorrow night, I can wear sweatpants again and eat chocolate cake with my brothers while we watch Ninja Warrior reruns.

Walking away before I suggest we start making friendship bracelets, I skirt around the edge of the restaurant and head straight into the ladies room.

Studying myself in the mirror, I wash my hands and consider the way I look. Tonight might be a bust, but I still think I look pretty. My eyes aren’t smudged black the way I enjoy, and my hair isn’t sex-messy, but my dress is beautiful, my heels aren’t killing my feet, and my nails aren’t chipped.

I’m nailing this being a grown-up thing.

I won’t be going home with Brad tonight, and I won’t be going to 188 to find someone else. But maybe I’ll take a selfie and send it to the girls. They’ll tell me I’m pretty.

Finishing in the bathroom, I reapply my cherry red lipstick and check my dress isn’t tucked into my underwear – God forbid I repeat that seventh-grade fiasco. Opening the heavy bathroom door, I mentally prepare myself to go back to my date.

“Hey, Bambie.”

Spinning on my feet and almost tripping in the process, I press a hand to my chest and stumble at the sight of him surging forward. “Jesus!”

“Shit.” Snagging my elbow in his broad hand, Jack steadies me on my feet. “I’m sorry, Britt. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Heart hammering in my chest, I study the mountain man from toes to hair. He looks bigger than I remember, his charcoal Henley stretched across a broad chest. His eyes are clear, as opposed to the glassy look he wore at the club, and his general demeanor just seems better.

Healthier.

He’s actually smiling, so there’s that.

“Are you okay? I’m sorry.”

I nod, though my hand remains on my erratically beating chest. “I’m okay.” Clearing my throat, I brush away the fizzles and fireworks his smile conjures. “Wow. I think you just stole a decade of my life.”

And now a lone dimple flashes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I saw you walk through the restaurant,” he shrugs, “I wanted to say hey.”

Releasing my elbow, I take a step back. A big step. Maybe two of them. “You wanted to say hey?”

“Yeah.” He takes in my outfit from top to bottom. “I, ah…” He scratches hair that’s grown longer since I last saw him. “I didn’t even recognize you at first.” He smiles shyly. “You look different.”

“Different?”

His eyes flare with guilt. “You look great! I didn’t mean to imply… different isn’t a bad thing. I just… different.”

Charmed by this wildly different, shier man, I smile. “Okay.”

“Um, I’m here with my family. We’re having a bit of a celebration. My sister recognized you, so I hauled ass to come say hey.”

I nod slowly and repeat, “Okay… Well, hey.”

“I also wanted to say sorry, for, you know, what happened.”

I take a third step back and turn to leave. I do not need to rehash that humiliating experience. “It’s cool. It’s in the past.” I wave him off. “It’s fine.”

Grabbing my elbow, he sends electricity zinging through my veins the way I wish Brad’s touch would. I doubt Jack has any special powers. We just have this ‘dangerous’ past, this experience, that has my blood running faster.

That’s all this is .

Huffing out a breath, his hand squeezes tighter. He’s careful not to hurt me. He doesn’t squeeze painfully. Just commandingly.

“Just wait a sec, okay? I want to say I’m sorry.” Releasing me, he steps back. “What I did to you, Britt… what I did to a lot of people,” he sighs, “my behavior was inexcusable. I really want you to hear me and believe me when I say I’m sorry.”

He’s sorry. He really, really is. “It’s okay. We’re cool… I promise.”

“We’re cool?” His lips twitch playfully, but he doesn’t let me in on the joke. “We’re cool… I don’t think we are, but an apology is all I have to offer you right now. I’ll understand if you don’t believe me, but I wanted to say it, anyway.”

“Did you fix your car?” I grit my teeth when his eyes flash with remembrance. “Since we’re being all apologetic and shit, you should know I’ve been to confession a dozen times over what I did to your Mustang. It keeps me up late at night.”

A playful grin stretches across his face. “You went to confession because you keyed my car?”

I keyed his car! I can’t believe I did that. “Well, no, I haven’t actually been to a real-life church or told a real-life priest what I did. But I told my friends, and I told them I was sorry, so…”

“You told your friends?”

I scrunch my nose. “Yeah, they got pretty mad about what I did.”

“Your friends? From the club?”

“Yeah.”

His eyes dance with humor, something I’ve never seen in them before now. The other times I saw him, his eyes held mostly anger and sex. “Why would your friends get mad at you on my behalf?”

“Oh. No.” I laugh and relax into his presence. I forgot how magnetic he is. And he ain’t ugly. “They weren’t mad at me about you. They were mad at you, too. They were mad at me for keying a car. A nice car.”

His chin dips in a solemn nod. “You did a pretty good job. Dug them in right down to the bodywork on the B and the second T.”

“Shit. I’m sorry.” Laughing, cringing, my emotions are a little out of whack. “Can I pay you back for repairs?”

Entertained by my offer, he digs his hands into his pockets and pops that dimple. “You’re offering to pay for damage to my car after I treated you the way I did? After I said those awful things. I called you a whore, Britt. I kicked you out of my house into a strange neighborhood at three in the morning… Jesus,” he groans painfully. “That sounds even worse now than it did last time I thought about it. ”

Smiling, I step forward and place my hand on his forearm. His pained eyes snap to mine. “We’re cool, Jack. We’ll call it even. You learned your lesson. Don’t call women whores, and they won’t key your car.”

His eyes turn sad. “That was actually something I already knew. My sister taught me better. I wasn’t always such an asshole, I just had a… midlife crisis?”

“Midlife?” Stroking a thumb over his arm, I watch him watch my hand. “I hope you’re not midlife, yet. You’re pretty young, Jack. Dream bigger.”

He laughs bitterly. “Not everyone lives past their twenties. Some who do, go on to die in their forties. Sometimes, this is midlife.”

Frowning at his words, I squeeze his forearm and wait for his blue eyes to come back to mine. “What do you mean your sister taught you better?”

His brows furrow. “Hmm?”

“You said your sister taught you better.”

“Oh, yeah.” He glances over my shoulder for a brief second. “Yeah, my sister basically raised me. You shouldn’t judge her parenting abilities on my behavior. I swear, she taught me better. She also kicked my ass on your behalf.”

I groan at his first sentence. “Your sister raised you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Your sister is Kit?”

He smiles. “Yeah.”

“Your sister whose husband I called hot, in front of them both, then I told her you had a limp dick…” God. This is humiliating. “That sister?”

“Yeah, that’s Kit,” he laughs. “Don’t worry, she thought you were funny as shit.”

“She did?”

“Yeah, they’ve had fresh new material to work with for months. Actually, do you wanna–”

Jack’s narrow-eyed gaze is all the warning I get before a hand lands on my hip and Brad possessively pulls me against his side.

He drops an I’m-pissing-on-your-leg kiss on my brow and ignores Jack. “Hey, babe. I was starting to think you’d escaped out the bathroom window.”

I hold my chest for the second time tonight and turn to my date. “Brad. Sorry.” I look back and meet Jack’s curious eyes. “Um, wow, okay. Brad, this is Jack, my…”

“Friend.” Jack supplies easily. Extending his hand, he waits for Brad .

“And, Jack, this is Brad, my coworker.”

Like a clashing of the titans, two strong hands meet and shake. “Her date,” Brad amends.

I stink of urine, I swear.

“Nice to meetcha, Brad. I didn’t mean to keep her. We’re old pals.” Jack’s mischievous eyes meet mine for half a beat. “I haven’t seen her in months, so color me surprised when I saw her moving through the restaurant just now. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to say hey.” Finally, they release hands. “Actually, just before you arrived, I was asking if she wanted to say hello to my family.”

“Your family?”

“Yeah, like I said, we’re old friends. We used to hang out as a family all the time.” His dimple flashes playfully and has me looking at my feet before I reveal the only time we’ve ever hung out as a family was when I was wearing his shirt and could still feel him between my legs. “Anyway, we’re all here tonight, and when I saw Britt, my sister asked that I bring her over for a quick hello.”

My eyes flare. “She did?”

“Yeah.” He steps away, confident that we’ll follow. “Just quickly, then you can get back to your date. I promise not to keep you.”

“Jack, I don’t know–”

“Evie and Bean are here, too. They saw you.”

Well, shit.

Brad’s firm hand squeezes my hip. “No. I don’t think–”

“Yeah. Alright.” I look into Jack’s eyes, then Brad’s. “Just for a second.”

Jack’s dimple flashes victoriously.

Leading us away from the restroom area, past a handful of small tables, then around a small partition, we enter a space filled to the brim with big people.

“Hey, limpdick! You found her.”

“Bobby! Jesus.”

My face burns red at the biggest fighter’s words, then as Kit elbows him in the chest. “Hush.” Standing tall, looking all elegant and beautiful and shit, I want to roll my eyes at her beauty and that damn half dimple thing both siblings have going on. “Hi, Britt. It’s so nice to see you again.” Stepping around the table, she pulls me into her arms like we really are friends from way back. “I’m so glad he caught you. You look so beautiful. ”

I step back from her friendly embrace, only to find my hip possessively back in Brad’s hand. “Um, thank you. You look beautiful, too.”

“Guys, this is Brad,” Jack announces easily. “Britt’s date.”

I have only a second to wonder how awkward this whole situation is – I mean, damn! I was with Jack, I was a whore, and now I’m here with Brad – but then a duet of indrawn breaths have me gritting my teeth and looking to the end of the table.

Evelyn and Lucy Kincaid. “That’s Miss T!” Evie whisper yells. “And Mr. Maxwell, too.”

Bean giggles. I groan. Brad pisses on my leg some more via tight grip on my hip.

The man I remember as Jimmy Kincaid, though I haven’t had reason to speak with him or any of the Kincaid parents since that first time, stands and offers his hand. “Mr. Maxwell?”

Releasing my hip, Brad takes Jimmy’s hand and smiles his PR smile. “Yeah, Brad Maxwell.”

“Hey. I’m Jimmy Kincaid.”

Narrowed eyes, Brad grips Jim’s hand and grins tightly. “Jimmy Kincaid.” He looks toward Izzy for a long minute, then back to Jim. “I’m a fan.”

“Britt.” Unaware of Brad’s gaze, Izzy smiles and reaches out for my hand. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You, too.” I look at every kind face at the table. They all smile, some of them smile more mischievously than others. “It’s nice to see you all. Um, you know,” I murmur almost silently. “Under better circumstances.”

Jimmy Kincaid’s wolfish smile has me blushing like a fool and studying my shoes. “I’m just glad our boy caught you. We’ve missed you around our place.”

“You have?”

“Of course!” He grins. “You were the catalyst to a lot of change. And the funniest person we’ve known in a long time.”

“Jim,” Jack grumbles. “Stop.”

“So…” I clear my throat. “What are you all celebrating?”

“Nothing,” Jack answers dismissively. The light and humor that was in his eyes minutes ago vanishes. Now, it’s like I’m looking at the Jack I knew two months ago.

I don’t like it.

“Jack’s back on the fighting circuit,” Bobby answers proudly. “He stopped for a bit, but he’s back. Had his first fight today. Kicked ass. ”

Wide eyed, I shoot my gaze back to Jack’s face and desperately search for injuries. “You fight?”

“Yeah, he fights,” Jon scoffs. “Surprised he didn’t tell you that already. Wasn’t so long ago he was the cocky kid who’d tell everyone about his almost undefeated reign.”

“Jon. Quit it.”

“Did you win?”

Meeting my eyes, the anger in Jack’s chips away. “Yeah, I won.”

Nerves flutter in my belly. The fight has already ended. He’s okay, he’s right here in front of me, and yet, thinking of him fighting makes me nervous. “I’m glad you’re not hurt.”

“Pfft,” Jim scoffs. “Jack doesn’t get hurt in the octagon.”

“Alright,” Jack announces sharply. “Thanks for coming over, Britt.” Turning his back on his family, he shuffles Brad and me across the restaurant and away from the crowded table and doesn’t stop again until we’re standing by the booth I started in tonight.

Glancing at Brad for the briefest second, Jack shrugs, daringly leans forward, and presses a kiss to the corner of my lips.

Damn you, fizzing toes!

“It was so good to see you, Bambie. I mean that.” Glancing at Brad one final time, he steps back. “And that other thing I said. I meant that, too.”

He’s sorry.

I nod in stunned silence. Watching him turn on his heel and walk away, Brad’s painful grip barely registers in my mind as my lips tingle and my brows furrow.

He’s intriguing.

And he’s sorry.