Page 13 of Crazy Imperfect Hearts

It's not that I think she’s a huge drinker. I mean, who in the hell gets drunk off strawberry vodka? Humorously, I shake my head at the thought.

The screen on my computer goes black with inactivity and I see my reflection. My shirt is buttoned up to the neckline. My tie matches the jacket currently hanging on a rack by the door. And every hair on my head has been meticulously combed.

What a contrast to the flamboyant brunette bombshell that is Regan.

My loins—is that even a thing?—start to burn like a fire is inside me. I wonder if she’d be up for another round. After all, I’d like to be able to remember every second of it, which is not something I’m capable of after drinking as much as I had. For a second there, I thought she might have even faked her orgasm.But I could swear her body shuddered under me. And those sounds she made have been echoing in my dreams for days.

And… did I even touch her breasts? Take off her bra? Maybe I was afraid of having a Forrest Gump moment and coming in my goddamn boxers. It’s all so fuzzy. My need to have these questions answered has me wanting to risk another night with her.

And it is a risk. One night is a hookup. Two may come with expectations. Despite her lackadaisical demeanor, I suspect Regan has one hell of a head on her shoulders. She knows exactly who I am and how far away she should keep her heart from me.

Heart. Not pussy.

Unable to get my head on straight enough to work, I go down the hall to Blake’s office. My youngest brother is COO—Chief Operating Officer—overseeing the day-to-day operation of the winery.

He looks up from his computer. “What’s up?”

I walk in, shut the door, and sit across from him.

He reclines in his chair, perches his jean-clad legs up on his desk, ankles crossed, and eyes the door. “A closed-door meeting. We don’t have many of those around here. Mind telling me what the others shouldn’t be hearing?”

Settling back into the chair, I wonder how I’m going to get this out without sounding like a douchebag. But I came to Blake and not Dallas for a reason. It wasn’t so long ago when Blake was a real player; a guy who’s probably had more one-night stands than I have fingers and toes. Whereas Dallas has been with exactly two women in his entire life.

I fall somewhere in between, having been with my share of women, but all had been classified as a relationship. Even if some only lasted weeks or months, all of them were expected to go somewhere. I never once slept with a woman with theintention of it only being that one time, never to call or possibly even see her again. That was Blake’s forte, not mine.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been entranced by my parents’ long, loving, carefree relationship. They make being married seem fun and easy, although I’m sure neither is true all the time. And yet, the only thing I’ve managed to do is disappoint my mom and dad—four times. More if you count the other breakups that never made it to engagement status. Maybe deep down, I’m afraid I could never have what they have. Or that I can’t live up to the standard. So when it gets down to it, I bail rather than let myself find out it’s all an illusion and the perfect marriage doesn’t exist.

“Brother?”

Blake’s voice pulls me from my self-analysis. I look him in the eye and do what I came here to do. “I might have done something a little stupid, and I’m embarrassed. Well, not embarrassed as in I’m ashamed ofwho.It’s more like I don’t want people thinking she’s going to be the next jilted bride. Because it’s not like that.”

He holds his hand up to stop me. “Slow down. Start from the beginning.”

I crack my neck. “The night we saw Lissa’s engagement, I did something.”

He chuckles. “You mean you did someone.”

I nod.

“Ah, shit. Don’t tell me you hooked up with Sheriff Niles’s daughter.”

“No. No one like that.”

“Why in the hell are you dancing around this, Luke? Spit it out already.”

I look at the family picture hanging behind him. The perfect portrait of the perfect family. Blake, Ellie, and Maisy lookblissfully happy. Just another reminder of something I’m never destined to have. I sigh. “It’s Regan.”

“Lucas?” he belts out an octave higher.

On the defensive now, I blurt out, “You got a problem with that?”

“With her—no. She’s one of the nicest people I know. But therein lies the problem. You got drunk, couldn’t keep your dick in your pants, went after the first woman you saw, and now you’re here asking me how to let her down easy.”

“You’ve got it all wrong, Blake. She kicked me out after.”

Laughter fills the air between us—allhis.

“Come on, man,” I say. “Cut me a break. I’ve never been kicked out before.”

---