Page 23 of Forever Finds Us (Wisper Dreams #7)

Chapter Seventeen

Roxanne

‘Hello’? ‘Nice to see you’?

What the fuck was that?

Thoughts of finding Teton Tom out at the abandoned house when Dan and I had driven out there and how he was now enjoying ESPN on Dan’s couch while he rested his twisted ankle dissolved from my head.

Plopping down in a chair after Brand and his…

date left Coffee Shot, I felt the wind leave my sails.

The whole fucking boat sank, and I stared out the café’s big Main Street window as the man I was pretty sure I’d been falling in love with and the painfully beautiful woman walked away.

Her sexy, flowing black hair shone like obsidian in the sun and fluttered lightly in the wind, and it only highlighted further that she was probably only five-six.

Her high heels, though, they gave her a step up and accentuated the most perfect ass in a pencil skirt I’d ever seen on a woman.

My own ass beneath me felt like a flubbery seat cushion that had always had a very distinctive heart shape, and in my uniform?

Forget about it. There were no perfect, round globes on my backside.

The only way to obtain those bouncing orbs would be butt implants, and just thinking about two of them digging into my glutei maximi during a stakeout made me cringe.

Brand held his hand behind the woman’s back to guide her where he wanted her to go, not touching her, but fucking close enough!

One-two-three .

Dear God, the man looked fine in a suit jacket. The deep charcoal color made his eyes almost glow blue, and it fit him like it had been made specifically for him. Maybe it had been. He could afford bespoke business wear.

And goddammit, he’d worn a cowboy hat. A fucking cowboy hat and it was so hot, I hadn’t been able to speak!

For her?

Why had he never worn it for me? Because if he had, there were things hidden in my mind I’d read about in book club and imagined alone in the dark of my bedroom on lonely nights, and those things he would earn simply by showing up in that smoke-colored, felt, sex hat.

I hadn’t even known he owned one, but that woman got the corporate cowboy version of Brand, and I didn’t? Why? ’Cause I was a cop? ’Cause I wasn’t gorgeous like her? Probably.

One-two-three .

His jeans hugged his thighs like I wanted to, and the crisp, white shirt beneath his jacket molded to his chest. The jacket itself was a perfect fit, and it wrapped his biceps and pecs like a present.

He’d worn brown snakeskin, square-toed cowboy boots, but they were expertly worn in.

Even they were sexy, and the brown belt around his waistband and his flashy, silver belt buckle made my mouth water when I imagined what he could do to me with that strap of leather and what the imprint of the buckle would look like on my skin.

My hands fisted on the café table, and I wanted to bang my head on it.

What the hell had I even been thinking? There was no way a man like Brand Lee would want me.

Sure, maybe for a few hard pokes of his stick, but not for the long haul.

He had money. Connections. He needed a woman like Miss Laser Hair Removal.

She probably wore designer crotchless panties.

“Ughhh.”

As I tried to curb the obsessive need I felt to tap out “The Star Spangled Banner” on my leg, I felt a presence standing just behind my shoulder. Whoever it was smelled like Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal, but I couldn’t be bothered to turn to find the source of the delicious breakfast scent.

From my reaction to Brand and his raven-haired mistress, the whole town of Wisper probably already knew Brand and I’d had a fling, or a three-night stand, or whatever the hell the gossip mill would call it.

So then they shouldn’t be surprised about the ugly, flat-out jealousy I felt toward the woman crossing Washington Street with Brand, now hanging on his arm and laughing, like they were lovers who’d just met by happenstance but couldn’t believe their luck, and now they would go to her car, and he’d drive to a hotel.

Not a motel. No, there would be no cheap, discounted room in the middle of the night.

They’d drive to Jackson, and Brand would whip out a stiff, black credit card at the fanciest joint in town, probably with teardrop-shaped crystal chandeliers, and they’d spend whole days and nights ordering room service and fucking politely.

Not like me and Brand. Every time we’d been together, our sex was the opposite of polite. It was messy and hard and possessive. It was the kind of sex you had with a… secret. With a mistress.

Wait, am I the mistress in this scenario?

“Of course that’s how this story ends,” I whispered to myself, giving in and letting my fingers tap to their heart’s desire.

I rolled my eyes and tried to breathe undramatically, but my lungs wouldn’t seem to cooperate.

Air wheedled its way up my throat, like a stubborn five-year-old being pulled through a department store by her mama, but a loud breath finally squeaked out of my mouth when the person behind me spoke.

“Gina Scott.”

“Huh?” My head whipped itself around at the female voice belonging to the person now bent and peering over my shoulder.

“Oh, Tabitha.” I acknowledged her, but my head turned right back around like a scene out of The Exorcist .

Great, now Brand and his hussy had stopped on the sidewalk.

His date used her hands to talk, as if she couldn’t waste one precious ounce of her kinetic energy in case it might turn him on too. “Hi.”

Completely deflated and trying not to whine like a wounded dog, I sighed.

And had Tabitha never heard of personal space?

She was practically cheek to cheek with me.

I hadn’t even noticed she and her eerily perky double Ds had been in Coffee Shot with Brand and the mystery woman, but could the universe send me any more hints?

You’re not good enough. You’re too old. Too tall.

Too imperfect. Not pretty enough. You’re not interesting enough to be CEO girlfriend material.

One-two-three .

“Hi,” Tabitha said brightly, and she pulled the chair opposite me closer and sat next to me, so she could watch the almost-PDA down the street too.

She set her to-go cup on the table between us and flicked her fingers toward the window.

“Call me Tab. Everybody does, and that wretch of a woman is Gina Scott, Brand’s ex-girlfriend. ”

There was my confirmation. Old lovers. “I knew it.”

“He can’t stand her.”

“Oh right, it sure looks like he hates her,” I said miserably, watching as Gina leaned closer to Brand and brushed her lips against his cheek. To his credit, Brand didn’t react, but it still made me want to murder them both.

Tabitha shook her head. “He’s being professional. Gina is the lead architect in charge of the subsidy homes project Lee Construction is contracted to build in the spring.”

Really? Oh.

My face must’ve shown my irritation because Tabby Cat laughed. “They’re not together. I promise.”

“Yeah, but then why did he act like he didn’t even know me, like we haven’t—” Heat crawled up my neck and lit my face on fire.

I was sure flames had burst into existence on my cheeks and a big, flashing text bubble had appeared above my head.

It probably read: I’m having sex with Brand Lee, but I’m not good enough for him. Wisperites, discuss!

Tab didn’t flinch or react. She shrugged.

“Brand doesn’t talk to me about his personal matters.

We’re close, but he has firm boundaries about that kind of thing.

Although, he’s loosened up a bit since he’s been back home.

But I’m a very observant person. It’s part of what makes me so good at my job.

I have to anticipate what my boss wants before he even knows he needs it. ”

I raised my eyebrows. Sounded like a whole lot of boundary crossing to me.

“Not like that ,” Tab said, and she swatted my hand on the table.

“But I pay attention, and my keen observations tell me that Brand really dislikes Gina. You have to understand though. Brand has put his entire life into Lee Construction. He wouldn’t do or say anything to jeopardize his company, including saying no to Gina Scott.

“Especially now. He’s taken a big gamble, moving the company to Wisper. It’s a whole new ball game down here. New rules, new nuances, and new asses to kiss in order to win bids for jobs he wants. Gina is one of those asses. Or her bosses are.”

“How long did they date?” I asked as Brand and Gina Scott disappeared down the road. I leaned forward in my chair, craning my neck and hoping for a few more seconds of visibility, but they were all the way down by Franklin Street now.

“For a few months last year. Brand ended it.” Tab sipped her frothy, pea-green latte and licked the residual foam from her lip, and the investigator in me came out.

“Why?”

“Officially, I have no idea. Like I said, he doesn’t usually talk to me about that kind of thing. But unofficially?”

I rolled my eyes and nodded. Of course I wanted to know what she thought. “Unofficially, Brand and this Gina Scott broke up because…? Fill in the blank, please, Tabitha.”

“Because she’s a shallow asshole.”

Hm . I liked that answer.

“Go on.”

“Brand has a type.” She looked me up and down. “Or he used to, and Gina is it. I’ve only worked at Lee Construction for a year, so I wasn’t around before Gina, but from other employees, I learned that he’s always dated… mm, professional women. Not like you and me.”

“What?” How offensive! “You don’t think I’m professional?”

“No!” Tab rushed to say. “Of course I do. I meant, like, white-collar, architect, business-y kind of professional.”

“Oh,” I said, tapping my leg again. Okay, a tiny bit less offensive. “But you and I are nothin’ alike.”

“Really? You don’t think so?”

I shook my head. Tab was all seductress, Instagram Reel perfection, with a tiny frame, big boobs, sixty-watt smile, and I was… nerdy Roxi. Awkward, too tall, and too middle class for Brand. Okay fine, low, low middle class.

“You’re from Oklahoma. I’m from Missouri. Bible-Belt central and Tornado Alley. My guess is that you come from a small town and a big family. I have three brothers and a sister.”

“I have five sisters.”

She nodded. “Do your parents still go to church every Sunday morning and Wednesday evening?”

“How’d you guess?”

“’Cause mine still do too.”

“Okay, but people from small towns can still be CEOs.”

“You’re right.” She flipped her auburn waves over her shoulder and took another sip of her drink. “I guess I just meant that Gina isn’t exactly what I’d call ‘down to earth,’ not like you and me.”

“Oh.”

I wasn’t sure how I felt about her comparison or the many, glaring differences between Brand’s ex and me.

Tab wasn’t wrong that we were clearly different.

And while I berated myself silently for being the opposite of what Brand usually wanted, I didn’t wish I was more like this Gina Scott.

I liked who I was. I loved my job and my family, and if having Brand meant changing my identity, then we really were a no-go.

When I realized it was true, a weird confidence flowed through me because I knew myself well, and surely that was an attractive quality.

I didn’t think he wanted me to change, but I couldn’t stop my brain from hanging onto the image burned into it of Brand escorting the fancy-schmancy vixen out of the coffee shop.

And now my retinas were burning, too, as they pictured Brand and Miss Boyfriend Stealer ensconced in their fancy hotel together, her perfectly toned calves wrapped around Brand’s neck while he went to town on her expertly waxed, rich-lady bits.

Arghh!

My phone dinging with a text from Brand cleared the jealousy from my body, but only for a few seconds. I just couldn’t stop seeing Gina Scott writhing in the throes of passion with my… What exactly was Brand Lee to me?

5:32 PM

Tonight. Be ready for me. 10pm.

I didn’t respond. Why would I? What would I even say? Yes, sir. I’ll be waiting so your girlfriend can turn you on but then you can act out all your fantasies on your white-trash booty call after she squeaks through her elegant orgasm and falls asleep in the chic, trendy hotel you paid for.