Page 17 of Forget

‘Fine.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘I was aloof.’

‘And standoffish.’

‘Whatever.’ She poked out her tongue at him.

He grinned at her sass and his smile packed a punch that landed in her solar plexus, making her breathless.

Damn it, she needed to gather her wits before she could broach the subject of them, so she tried to deflect.

‘You know, for a pretty smart guy you were a dumbass because—’

His mouth covered hers in a fiery kiss that robbed her of breath and made her heart soar. His lips demanded compliance and she gave it readily, her hands clawing for purchase at his T-shirt as he wrapped his arms around her and crushed her to him.

His rock-hard dick pushed against her pelvis, making her throb with want, her indignation morphing into a much more powerful emotion: mindless desire.

He wrenched his mouth from hers, and muttered, ‘fuck,’ under his breath, his chest heaving as he dragged in deep breaths.

‘We need to talk,’ he said, gently disengaging her hands from his T-shirt.

‘Yeah, we do.’ She pressed a finger to his lips to silence him. ‘The sex is better than I remembered and I want more.’

‘Wow, if that’s what you want.’ His eyes widened in surprise at her bluntness. ‘This could work. I’m in town for another two weeks. I help you with your IT needs during the day—’ he stepped into her personal space and ducked down so that his lips grazed her ear ‘—and all your other needs at night.’

Jayda wanted to fist-pump the air in victory, but before she could respond his phone rang.

He glanced at the screen and blanched, muttering, ‘I have to take this,’ before stalking into the bedroom and slamming the door.

7

Brock tensed whenhis phone rang out the familiar tune. He’d assigned it specifically, one for his mother, another for his father, so he could distinguish easily when to divert or answer. He diverted most of the time, preferring to communicate with terse texts than one-on-one conversations that rambled.

But his mother hadn’t rung in a while and to call this late at night could only mean one thing: trouble.

After leaving a surprised Jayda in his lounge room, he holed up in the bedroom before answering, surprised to see his mother’s face on the screen. If she rarely called, she video-called even less. Both suited him just fine.

He swiped his thumb across the bottom of the screen. ‘Hey, Mum. What’s up?’

Tears instantly filled her eyes and his heart sank. What had his old man done this time?

‘It’s your father. He’s broken his hip.’

Brock quashed a momentary flicker of compassion. George Olsen didn’t deserve his sympathy. ‘How?’

‘He was hanging a new sign for the car yard.’ She shook her head, the perpetual worry lines furrowing her brow deepening.‘You know your father. Doesn’t accept help from anybody and never shows weakness.’

Yeah, he knew dear old dad all right and to this day he couldn’t fathom why his mum stuck with him.

He’d blamed himself for a long time for their shitty marriage: Mum got pregnant in her teens, Dad felt compelled to marry her, sticking it out for the sake of their only child. Being witness to their constant bickering and arguments had scarred him for life, ensuring he never, ever, wanted a long-term relationship. Why put himself in a position to be trapped?

He saw it with his friends too, guys he’d gone to uni with who’d morphed from cool coders to hen-pecked shadows doing whatever their partners demanded, browbeaten into meek submission. No way he wanted anything remotely resembling that shit.

With his mother, he didn’t understand why she’d stayed with the selfish prick after Brock left home. She could’ve escaped and started a new life for herself. Instead, she continued to live with the miserable bastard who only cared about one thing in this world: his precious secondhand cars.

Brock scrubbed a hand over his face to hide his scowl. ‘Yeah, I know Dad has a stubborn streak a mile long.’

Usually, his mother would chastise him for being disrespectful. Today, the wrinkles bracketing her mouth deepened.

‘I need your help, Brock.’

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