Page 21

21

BEN

Clinking the ice cubes together as I swirl the bourbon around in my glass, I scowl at the contents, my thoughts flitting back to soft lips, little gasps and sensual moans. I down the liquid in one, sucking air through my teeth as the taste of vanilla hits me, sending flashes of her hair filtering through my mind.

I slam the glass on the table and growl. “This is shit. Get me a whiskey.” Two matching scoffs and a chuckle force my attention away from the ice cubes and I’m met with twin Brady eyes scrutinising me. “What?”

“You didn’t say please. I thought you Brits were all about manners.” Jameson folds his arms over his chest whilst Jenson leans back in his chair, tipping the front legs off the floor, his eyes shining with mischief.

“Get me a whiskey, please. Better?” I grit out through my teeth, throwing my hands up in exasperation when they both laugh. “What is wrong with you two dicks? Your bourbon sucks and I want a real drink.” They just stare at me with a brow raised on each of their faces. “Fine, I’ll get it myself.”

Before I can stand, Jameson puts his hand on my thigh and stops me. “Tell us what happened.”

Jenson sits straighter on his chair with a grin. “We know it involves Buttercup, so spill.”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about. And your hosting skills are crap. I’m telling Mama Brady you wouldn’t get your guest a drink.” Smugly, I fold my arms over my chest and watch as they both grapple with the idea of disappointing their mum versus finding out what’s going on with me. Bunch of mama’s boys, the lot of them.

Damn it. I’m just jealous, and the reality of it stings. If I’d had a mum like Mama Brady, I’d be a mama’s boy too. But I didn’t. I had a woman who couldn’t give a fuck about me.

“I’ll get you the whiskey on one condition.” I turn my head to focus on Jameson and just raise my brow in response, garnering a smirk from him. “You tell us what happened, and we give you the Brady word that it goes no further than this room. Not even Jonathan will know.” I turn my head to look at Jenson and tilt my head to the side, questioning.

“Fine. I won’t tell Angie either. Brady word.”

I take a second to think about their offer and then smile. “No deal.” It’s worth it to see the look of shock on both their once smug faces. “I mean, what do I get out of it really? A drink? I can go home and get one of those without telling you suckers anything. You’d make rubbish businessmen.”

Jenson’s laugh barrels through the room whilst Jameson scowls at me.

“I’m a successful business owner, so I disagree, but whatever.” Clearly offended, he stands up and heads toward the kitchen as Jenson whistles through his teeth.

“Well, now you’ve done it. You upset his fragile little ego. You gotta fix it, bro.” He’s back to leaning on his chair, and it takes all my strength not to push him over.

“Fine.” Huffing out a breath, I stand up as his laughter fills my ears. I quickly kick the back leg of his chair, laughing as he flies backward and crashes to the floor. I lean over his wheezing form. “As a professional athlete, I would’ve expected you to have better reflexes than that, Brady. Would be a shame for your boss to find out you’re lacking— Oh, wait…”

I smugly stand and stride out of the room to his mutters of ‘son of a…’.

A gentle laugh falls from my lips as I cross the threshold of the kitchen to find Jameson pouring a whiskey. He turns and hands it to me, clearly expecting me to follow him to the table and chairs in the middle of the room. “What's the catch?” Before I take it I want to make sure it’s not laced with laxatives or something. These Bradys are tricky.

“No catch. And it’s safe, look.” He takes a small sip and then continues to offer it to me. I gingerly accept the glass, worried it might explode or something. “I realised as I flounced off we weren’t being entirely fair. You don’t owe us anything. But you looked troubled, and family means being able to share your worries without judgement. Figured I should remind you of that, brother.”

Shit. It’s the Jameson guilt vibe. I hang my head and take a sip of the drink. I’m not used to being in a family, having brothers and people I can depend on, and it’s hard to navigate. Especially when you throw into the mix the awkward encounters I’ve had with their ‘sister.’

A small part wants to tell him everything. How I feel about her. What I want with her. But as much as I feel drawn to her, I can’t let go of the niggling thought that she has the potential to ruin me. I take a seat and sip the drink as he sits opposite and watches me. I straighten my tie, look him in the eye, and take a sip of whiskey. “Joke’s on you. There’s nothing to tell. Thanks for the whiskey, bro. Now are we playing poker or what?”

After abruptly standing from my seat I call the last bit over my shoulder as I stride back into the living room and clap Jenson on the shoulder. He flinches, then punches me lightly in the side as I walk by. I can’t give this up. Any of this.

The kiss never happened. And it can’t happen again. No matter how fucking turned on I am by the memory of her lips.

“And that, my friends, is a straight flush. Thank you for your money.”

Jenson throws his cards on the table and lets out a loud fuck as I swoop the cash from the center of the table with glee.

“Maybe you should learn how to control that tell of yours and you wouldn’t be broke right now.”

“I don’t have a tell. You just got lucky,” he bites back, and Jameson’s scoff is loud enough that I don’t need to react. “What’s my tell?”

I mime zipping my lips and smirk when he huffs a breath out and turns toward his brother. But just as he’s about to launch into a tirade, the door opens and Jameson grins at both of us.

“Just in time. We’re in here,” he calls over his shoulder, eyes fixed on mine, silently telling me exactly who’s just walked into his house.

“Hey, you got room for more?” Angie’s London accent calls through the hall as she appears in front of us.

I blow a breath of relief out and continue sliding the notes over to my side of the table. Jameson’s eyes are watching me, waiting, like a predator toying with its prey. I shake the feeling off and fold the money into neat little piles, my gaze avoiding his, but a tingle flits up my spine and the hair on the back of my neck starts to rise. This time, when I bring my eyes up, I know she’s there. His blue eyes pierce into the side of my head, waiting for any reaction. And I know, as my eyes land on hers, he can see everything. Shit.