Page 6 of The Breakup

Chapter 2

This had to be the fiancé. He had rich tool written all over him. He was wearing a sweater around his shoulders in the world’s biggest cliché. Either he had spent the day with Ralph Lauren or he was just a pussy who needed a sweater in June.

Both made me hate him.

I don’t have a problem with rich people. I have a problem with assholes, and this guy, this Bradley Alexander, reeked of asshole. I’m an asshole, but I’m not a pretentious asshole. There’s a big difference.

“Who is this?” the older guy asked.

I assumed it was Bella’s father. I opened my mouth to introduce myself as Bella’s friend, but the fiancé smiled and stuck his hand out to me first. “Bradley Alexander. Are you the tent guy?”

That caught me off guard. I shook his hand. His grip was firm. Mine was firmer.

His skin was smooth, soft, like my son’s. Only Camp was a baby. This guy had to be close to thirty and had clearly never done a hard day’s labor in his life. I didn’t begrudge him that. Nice life if you can get it.

“Oh, the tent guy,” Bella’s father said. “Right. You two take care of that. I want a drink.” He never looked at me, just headed into the house whistling.

“I’m not the tent guy,” I said, annoyed and not sure why. There was no reason for Bradley to have any clue who I was.

He gave me a look like I was a fucking idiot. “I know,” Bradley said brightly as he turned from me and walked toward Bella. “You can deal with this, right, sweetheart?” He kissed the top of her head. “When you’re done meet me in your room so we can talk.”

Bella looked stricken. On the verge of tears again. Something was clearly wrong in her relationship and I didn’t want to give a shit. I shouldn’t give a shit. But I felt bad for her, damn it. That annoyed me. I tried to remember how bitchy she had been the night before calling me a loser. It helped. I tamped down my compassion.

“Thanks for the money,” Bella said, her voice a polite dismissal. “I appreciate the prompt return, though it honestly wasn’t necessary. I meant it as an apology.”

“I know. But it was too much money for a simple apology.” I stared at her. “Who does your fiancé think I am?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Sophie’s boyfriend?” She darted a glance back at the house. “Enjoy your afternoon.”

So damn polite. I lingered, wanting to trigger her impatience. See if she would tell me to fuck off as she so clearly wanted to. But she just watched me, her fingers fluttering over her neck, her eyes wide and slightly maniacal. She looked like she was going to cry again, yet she still wasn’t going to be rude. Apparently only alcohol made her pretentious.

“Thanks,” I said, willing to let her off the hook. “You too.” I backed up a few steps, slowly. Maybe I didn’t want to fuck Bella. Too complicated.

“Your brother might want to consider staying away from my sister.”

I paused. Cain and I had a lot of issues. Hell, the night before he had punched me in the face when I was bartending. Which was why we’d both wound up sitting in jail. But where the fuck did Bella get off suggesting my brother was bad for her sister? He was. But no one had the right to say that who wasn’t a Jordan. “And why is that?”

“He obviously has issues with alcohol and anger management and Sophie is inexperienced.”

I scoffed. So typical. “One could say the same thing about you last night,” I said, turning on my heel. I waved over my shoulder. “Have a nice life, Bella. Enjoy your wedding.”

She gasped at my words, but I didn’t stick around to hear if she had a response. It didn’t matter.

And I had a date with my baby mama. Cain’s ex-girlfriend, Ali. She had rolled back into town without telling either one of us and had asked to meet me for coffee.

Let the shit show begin.

—

What the heck was that? I wasn’t even sure why Christian had shown up at the house, let alone had lingered like that. My palms were sweating from the strain of being polite and my thoughts were scattered. Bradley had seemed strange. Hadn’t he? I wasn’t sure, and now I felt hot with anxiety. Pushing Christian out of my mind, I went into the house and ran straight up to my room, heart racing.

I wasn’t sure what to say to Bradley.

He was sitting on the chair in front of my vanity, slouched back, casual, legs apart. “Have you seen my phone?”

Shit. Of course he would ask about that immediately. I lied strictly out of panic. I wasn’t sure I was ready to confront him about his bathroom sex. “No.”

His eyebrows rose. “Call it for me.”

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