Текст книги "Three Broken Promises"

Автор книги: Monica Murphy

Соавторы: Monica Murphy
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Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 17 страниц)

“For encouraging me.” I don’t want to let him go. His arm is pure muscle and sinew, and I can feel the soft hairs tickling my fingertips. Dropping my gaze, I study his big hand, those long, capable fingers.

“I’d do anything for you, Jennifer.” I jerk my head up when he calls me by my full name, my startled gaze meeting his. “Someday I hope you’ll realize that.”

Chapter 10

Jen

“So you’re currently a waitress.” The woman glances over my application, her mouth screwed up in distaste.

I sit across from her, a narrow table dividing us. The interview is for a personal assistant to the vice president of an advertising agency. We’re in a tiny meeting room of some sort and I swear their air conditioner is broken. The air in the room is practically stifling and I’m tempted to fan my face for some sort of relief, but I restrain myself. “I am.”

She switches to look at my résumé, the one I’d agonized over for hours a few days ago, when I lined up these interviews. Fable helped me with it. Even Owen made a few contributions; the kid is surprisingly good in English and he spotted some mistakes.

But she barely looks at it, lifting her head to pin me with an assessing stare. “Almost all of your work experience is in the food industry.”

“It’s what I know, yes, but I’m more than willing to learn.” I lean across the table, ready to launch into the speech I’d practiced in my head during the drive here, ready to bust out all of those impressive words that will no doubt push her into hiring me on the spot. At least, I hope. “I’m new to the area and am looking to line up a position with potential to grow. I’m a quick learner and I really need this jo—”

“Do you know Microsoft Office?” she interrupts.

I press my lips shut, swallowing my speech. “Some.” It’s an exaggeration. Well, I can use Word, but nothing too fancy.

“Specifically Excel? I’m in constant need of spreadsheets.” She smiles, but it’s not genuine. She knows she’s got me. “How about PowerPoint? We give a lot of presentations here.”

“I . . . I can take a class,” I offer weakly, wincing. Local community colleges offer those sorts of courses all the time and I’m dying to go back to school. Once I can afford it . . .

“I appreciate the offer.” The smile turns condescending, just like that. Ouch. “We’ll be in touch.”

That’s it? I watch her stand and I do the same, pushing away from the table and bringing myself to my feet as if I’m in a daze. I shake her hand and she practically shoves me out of the building.

And I thought the last interview had been bad. At least that man had given me a solid ten minutes of his time, listing the duties of the receptionist position I was interviewing for, his gaze straying to my breasts every few seconds, which kinda creeped me out.

Okay, fine, it really creeped me out.

It’s not as if I’m dressed indecently or anything. Straight black skirt and heels, a white, sleeveless shirt with a delicate lace collar and pretty little pearl buttons that run down the front. My hair is pulled into a sleek ponytail, and the pearl earrings my grandma gave me for Christmas when I turned thirteen dot my ears. Respectful, earnestly-looking-for-a-job clothes, and the guy still leers at me.

I can’t win for trying.

Breathing deep, I walk across the hot parking lot, the heat from the sun seeming to radiate upward from the asphalt in waves. I head toward Colin’s car, determination filling my steps. I refuse to get upset, but talk about disheartening. Every interview I’ve had today, including the spontaneous one I’d stumbled upon while at the restaurant waiting to be seated, ended badly.

I’d overheard the man in the restaurant saying he needed a marketing assistant and I’d barged right into his conversation, turning it into an appointment so we could talk more after I finished eating. I’d had the interview not even an hour ago with the gentleman, who ran a marketing firm, and it turned into a bust.

A complete and total bust—like I am.

“That was quick,” Colin says when I slide inside the car. I breathe a sigh of relief at the cold air blasting on me from the vents and I lean forward, letting the air wash over my heated skin. “Tell me they hired you.”

“I can’t, because that would be a lie.” Tilting my head back, I close my eyes, a little sigh of relief escaping me. I had no idea how hot and sweaty and worked up I’d gotten during that stupid, waste-of-time interview.

“You’re kidding me.” He sounds incredulous, and I sorta love him for that. I need someone on my side at the moment. I’m feeling like a total failure.

“No one wants to hire someone who has zero office experience to work in an office.” I settle into my seat, my eyes still closed. I wonder if he’d be offended if I napped the entire ride home.

“How do you get office experience if no one will hire you to work at an office?”

“That’s my point exactly.” I sigh again because it feels good. It also feels good to kick off these killer high-heel shoes I’m wearing, so I do that too. I swear my toes just sighed with happiness along with me as I stretched them out. “The woman was rude. Condescending. Looked down her nose at me and asked if I had Excel or PowerPoint knowledge. Of course I don’t, and she knew it.”

And I didn’t even mention my work experience at Gold Diggers. Not that I ever would. That’s no one’s business but my own.

“Want me to go in there and kick her ass for you? I totally would.” He sounds so hopeful I can’t help but laugh.

“I know you would and I appreciate that, but no. She’d call the police on you and that would end up ugly.” I shake my head. “This was such a wasted trip. Let’s go home.” I don’t even catch myself using the word home until it’s too late. The word had already flown out of my mouth.

But Colin doesn’t acknowledge it, thank goodness. “I thought you wanted to look at apartments, too.”

“What’s the point if I can’t afford them? I don’t have a job here. I’ll probably have to settle for a waitressing position at some shitty restaurant and make it work.” The thought alone depresses me and I squeeze my eyes shut again, trying to block out the dismal possibilities. I’ve messed this all up, but there’s no going back now. “I’ll tell myself it’s temporary, but we’ll all know that’s a lie. I’ll be a waitress my entire life. Oh my God, that’s so depressing!”

“Hey.” He reaches for my hand, giving it a squeeze. “You’ll figure this out. I know you will. So you’ve hit a couple of bumps in the road. This won’t be the first time or the last. You’re smart. You can make this work.”

“Sure I can. Says the girl who has nothing lined up, who gave you her notice and has nowhere to go in a matter of a few weeks.” I shake my head. “I’m a complete dumbass.”

“No, you’re not. You’re just anxious to really start living the life you want to live. I get that. I totally get that.” I crack open my eyes just in time to watch him bring my hand up to his mouth, brushing the softest kiss across my knuckles. My skin tingles from the contact and I curl my fingers around his, wishing we didn’t have all of this . . . past blocking us. He’s somehow put me on a pedestal and believes the two of us can never work out.

Wouldn’t he just die if he knew the truth? Talk about falling off the pedestal! It’s bad enough he knows I was a stripper. How would he feel if he knew I was basically a prostitute, offering hand jobs and blow jobs for quick cash in the Gold Diggers parking lot?

God, that sounds sordid and disgusting!

“Take me home, Colin,” I whisper, my mouth going dry when his hot gaze meets mine. I see all the heat and want swirling in the pretty blue depths of his eyes, all of it directed at me, rendering me speechless.

It’s so ridiculous, what we’re doing. Why can’t we give in to this? I’m leaving. For all I know, I’ll never see Colin again. So what’s wrong with a little sex between friends until I move out and far away from that shitty little college town I keep calling home as if I secretly want it to be?

So scary, but the only time I feel safe, the only time I feel like I’m at home, is when I’m with Colin.

Colin

I like how she told me to take her home, though it took everything in me not to acknowledge that little slip. I like even more the way she sneaks looks at me as I drive. She thinks I don’t notice, but I do. Everything she does, I notice.

Drew’s advice has lingered in my brain all day long, so I’ve tried my best to keep it light and prove to her that I want her, yet instead I made her suspicious and questioning. I guess I can’t blame her. But it had felt damn good to flirt with her this morning when I first woke her up. God, what a sight she’d been . . .

I can still see the curve of her ass peeking out from those indecently tiny shorts. How she’d looked in her sleep, her long hair down and spread across her pillow, lips parted, eyes closed as she lay on her side. One leg slung on top of the comforter, which was pushed down to her waist. Revealing the tank top she wore, which did nothing to hide what she looks like when she’s not wearing it.

It made me want to dive under those warm, soft covers with her and touch her. Run my hands over her skin and slowly wake her up until she’s a moaning, writhing, needy mess beneath me.

Yeah. Didn’t happen.

We’re quiet during the drive back home, but it’s not an uncomfortable silence. Before we even left Sacramento, I turned on the satellite radio I’m addicted to and scrolled through the channels until I found a decent station. The drive isn’t bad, just about ninety minutes, and thankfully traffic isn’t too shitty. Jen falls asleep relatively fast after the occasional glance toward me and I leave her alone, thankful we don’t have to make pointless small talk.

My mind wanders as it usually does when I drive and of course, I think of Jen and what happened today. Is it wrong for me to be glad her interviews didn’t go as well as she’d hoped? It’s not that I don’t believe in her. The girl can do anything she sets her mind to and she’s smart as hell.

But I don’t want her to leave me. God, I’m a selfish prick!

Then prove yourself wrong, man. Prove yourself wrong.

Drew’s words ring in my head, the jackass. I wonder if he realizes how much our talk affected me. I’m running, just like he did before he realized his mistake. Or more like, I’m pushing her away. Doing my best to make us not happen, and now she’s on board with that thought too.

This proves I’m also an asshole.

The minute we reach the outskirts of town I turn the radio up, hoping to wake her. She stirs, murmuring something unintelligible, and I chance a look at her.

Big mistake.

Jen’s slouched in her seat, her shoes kicked off, her shirt untucked and a few buttons at the top undone, offering me a teasing glimpse of creamy, golden skin. The tops of her breasts, the white lace of her bra—just seeing that delectable hint of her body makes me break out in a sweat.

I reach over and turn up the air, desperate for some relief.

“I’m freezing,” she murmurs.

I glance in her direction, catch her shivering as she wraps her arms around herself, a weak defense against the blast of cold air. Yeah, she’s wide awake now. “Close the vent,” I suggest, not willing to turn the air conditioner down. I need it to cool down my too heated thoughts.

She does as I tell, her then settles back in her seat. “I can’t believe I slept through practically the entire drive.”

“You were tired.”

“More like stressed.” She curls up in her seat, tucking her legs beneath, her and I’m tempted to tell her that position isn’t very safe, but then I’ll just sound like a naggy old man so I hold myself back. “I can’t believe I have to start this process all over again.”

I stay quiet for a few minutes, navigating the familiar drive through town toward my house. The twilight sky is purple and black, with tiny white stars just starting to twinkle, and all the streetlights flick on, illuminating the road as I speed toward the subdivision.

“You know, I could help you,” I finally say nonchalantly as I turn onto my road. “I plan on opening the Redding location soon. I’ll need someone to assist me and work in the office while I’m gone.”

“No.” Her answer is vehement, downright hostile. She shakes her head. “No way.”

What the ever-loving fuck? “Why the hell not?”

“I refuse to take your handouts any longer.” She sits up straight, uncurling her legs and shoving her feet into those damn sexy high heels. “We’ve had this discussion a million times, Colin. No.”

“And we’ll probably have it a million times more.” I pull into the garage once the door finishes opening and cut the engine, turning to face her. “I don’t know why you won’t take my help any longer. I want to be there for you, Jen. I’m your friend. Let me do this for you.”

“I’m not your charity case, okay?” The words explode from her, shocking the shit out of me, and I lean away from her, my back pressed against the driver’s-side door. “I won’t take your little scraps of help because you feel some sort of twisted guilt over what happened to my brother. Danny’s been dead for two years. Two freaking years. You act like you’re the one who threw the bomb that killed him and I don’t get it!”

I open my mouth, ready to say the same old shit in defense, but she cuts me off, calling me on it.

“I don’t want to hear it. It’ll just be the same thing you always say. That you don’t mind. That you do it for my family, that you do it because of the guilt you carry, which is ridiculous. Save it for someone who’ll actually believe you.”

“I broke promises. To you, to your parents, to your brother. I don’t want to break any more,” I say, but she’s not listening.

Jen pushes open the door and climbs out of the car without another word, slamming the door so hard it reverberates through the garage, rattling the metal doors.

Without thought I climb out of the car and follow her inside, my head pounding, my blood roaring hot and fast through my veins. I try and help her out and she throws my generosity in my face. I’m sick of it. Hell, I’m sick of myself.

I find her in the kitchen, her hands curved around the edge of the granite countertop, her back to me as she hangs her head. She’s kicked off those sexy heels but she’s still tall. I can hear her breathing, feel the tension radiating off of her in palpable waves, and I want to touch her. Comfort her. Draw her into my arms and never let her go.

“You’re not my charity case,” I say softly. Her shoulders tense at my words. “I . . . care for you, Jen. I want to protect you. It tears me up inside when I think about what happened to you, when no one knew where you were.”

She says nothing, just keeps her back to me.

“When you’re hurting, I want to make it better,” I admit. “But every time I open my mouth, I seem to make it worse.”

She releases a shuddering breath before she turns around to face me, her expression unreadable. “You’re not honest with me, that’s why you make it worse. You hold yourself back.”

“I sometimes think you’re not honest with me either.” I clamp my lips shut, unable to go on. I can’t call her out when I hide from her as well. If I were honest, I’d tell her how I really feel.

I’ve done things I’m not proud of. I’ve pushed aside those I care about to strive for more with my career. I fear I’ve turned into my father.

And no one likes my father.

“Fine. You’re right. I’m not honest. I have my own secrets. That’s why I’m leaving. I’m running away from it all. Not a very responsible, grown-up thing to do, but it’s all I’ve got.” She approaches me slowly, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The sight of them nearly undoes me but I straighten my spine, stiffen my upper lip, and pretend I’m a fucking statue. “I’m not sure you can handle my secrets. But despite them, I want you, Colin. All of you—your faults and your strengths, the good and the bad, it doesn’t matter. I want it all.”

Her words wash over me like a soothing balm and I feel everything within me loosen. All that tightly coiled-up tension, the anger, the frustration, everything that’s been pent up inside me for what feels like a century just melts at first sight of the glow in her eyes. Those tears are for me. Her pain, her emotions, they’re all for me, and like a complete ass I’ve stomped all over her these last few months.

Hell, the last few years. Ever since I’ve known her, really. I’ve been protective to a fault. Guarding her, watching over her. Losing her . . .

Wanting her. Not allowing myself to have her. Pushing her away, hurting her. Every single damn time.

She deserves better. A man who would have rescued her right away instead of letting her continue to work at a place that dragged her down farther every single day she went there.

“I’m out of here in a few weeks. There’s no going back.” She lifts her chin, determination written all over her sad face. “My leaving is going to happen whether you like it or not. I will make it happen despite all of these recent . . . obstacles. So why can’t you give me a little bit of yourself? That’s all I want, Colin. And then I’ll walk away from you before it gets too complicated. It’s what you want, right? I know you don’t do complicated.”

I don’t do complicated because I saw what happened between my parents, and they’re the worst kind of complicated. No one understands them, least of all me.

Yet with Jen, it’s already complicated before it’s even begun. That’s how bad I have it for her. Once I have her, will I be able to walk away?

I don’t know.

“You’re going to turn me away yet again, aren’t you?” she asks when I don’t say anything. The irritation in her voice rings clear as her entire body goes tense. “I can’t believe it. I offer myself up to you with no strings attached and you’re trying to figure out how to let me down easy. God, I am such a moron!”

Unable to hold myself back, I rush toward her, angry that she would insult herself. Panicked that she really is going to walk away and I’m going to lose my chance. Thinking too much sucks. I need to just let it happen. Take this opportunity that she’s presenting me.

And let her go when our time is up.

“You’re not a moron,” I murmur, reaching for her. I cup her face in my hands and position her so she has no choice but to meet my gaze. I skim my thumbs across her cheeks, feel her shudder at my touch. “You make an offer like that and a man needs to process it first.”

The unshed tears still glimmer in her eyes and one escapes, leaving a damp trail across her skin. Leaning in, I stop its descent with my lips, tasting the salt, hearing the catch in her breath. “We do this and it’s not going to be some half-assed thing, you know,” I whisper.

She closes her eyes, her tears tangled in her long, thick lashes. “What’s it going to be, then?”

“A discovery.” I nuzzle her nose with my own, breathing in her scent, her very essence. God, I could devour her! It’s taking everything within me to keep calm and not unleash all over her. “An exploration.”

“That sounds like . . . research.” Her breath hitches in her throat when I drop a tender kiss on the tip of her nose.

Chuckling, I shake my head. “It’s the farthest thing from research.” I drift my lips across her cheek, blazing a hot path on her petal-soft skin. “You’re right when you said I don’t do commitment. The closest thing I’ve ever been to commitment is . . . what I share with you.”

She tentatively places her hands on my hips, her fingers curling into the waistband of my jeans. Having her hands on me sends little darts of fire throughout my insides, making me harden in an instant. She has no idea what sort of effect she has on me. How much restraint I’m using at this very moment not to throw her over my shoulder like an oversexed caveman and cart her off to my bedroom.

“But it can be no more than friendship with added . . . benefits.” I lift my head so I can look into her troubled gaze. She doesn’t like what I have to say and I don’t like it either, but I have to be honest. Stringing her along and making her believe this is something more is a mistake.

The two of us together would never work. I’m too damn selfish. I’d disappoint her. I’d hold her back when she needs her freedom. I’m not worthy of her. She’s everything sweet and good in my life, where there’s little sweet and good remaining.

I’ve kept her—and our relationship—as pure as possible even after all of these years. With the realization that she’s leaving me, that we’ll never be together again, I need to take my opportunities where I can.

Jen bites her lip and drops her gaze. “I can handle that.”

Her body language is more than telling me she doesn’t really want to handle that, but I can’t worry about it now.

I want her too damn much.