Page 19 of The Broker

“Transactional,” she repeated, and her tone turned bitter. “Nice.”

“It’s better that way,” I admitted. “The relationships in my past were complicated.” How much detail was I supposed to give her? “When I was in New York, all I cared about was my job. I was too focused on that to do the things I needed to do, so every one of my relationships suffered. Not just the romantic ones, either.”

She wasn’t convinced. “But you’re not in New York anymore.”

I reached down and pulled up my pants. “It’s not going to be any different here.”

“You don’t know that.” She said it like a child trying to reason to get what they wanted.

I finished buttoning my pants and gave her the most direct look I possessed. “I don’twantit to be any different here. It’s better to not get attached to me, because ultimately, I’m just going to let you down.”

She blinked, staring at me with disbelief. “Seriously? Do other girls buy that shit?”

“What?”

Charlotte climbed off the bed, snatched up her pants, and shoved her foot into one of the legs. “The idea that you won’t date someone ‘for their own good.’ That you’re—what? Saving them from falling in love with you and getting their heart broken?”

I frowned and got off the bed on the side opposite her. It made me sound like an asshole, but I lifted a hand in surrender. “It’s the truth.”

“Sounds more like an excuse.” She jerked her pants up and did up the fly, and her tone filled with sarcasm. “Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free, am I right?”

I fucking hated that saying, and my frustration got the better of me. “Some people don’t need love in a relationship to feel fulfilled. In fact, some people don’t even need love to have sex.”

Her shoulders tensed, and she drew in a sharp breath. I hadn’t meant to be so cutting, and so my words sliced us both. And while the bed was a physical divide between us, it suddenly felt wider than a football field.

“Well,” she said, yanking her shirt over her head, “I do.”

“Why?”

Her movements slowed. “What do you mean,why?”

“We did a lot of things tonight, Charlotte. We got naked and we went down on each other. Wasn’t that a kind of sex?” I realized how confrontational my posture had become and tried to relax, softening my voice. “I’m just curious as to why full-on sex is too much, but everything else is okay.” The idea popped into my head and was out before I could think better of it. “Is it, like, a way to keep your body count low?”

Well, shit.

Shock wasn’t a strong enough word for emotion that splashed across her face. She lifted her chin and glared at me. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“No, you don’t. I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”

It wasn’t fucking likely because she turned and strode for the door.Fuck.I picked up my shirt and tugged it on while chasing after her.

I caught up to her in the entryway, and the Uber app was open on the screen of her phone. I scrubbed a hand over my face while coming up with a way to repair the damage I’d done.

“I didn’t answer your question,” I said. “I didn’t ask for a second date just so I could fuck you.” Could she hear how genuine I was? I hoped my expression made it clear I was serious. “I asked because I want to see you again.”

She lifted her distrustful gaze from the screen.

“You should say no,” I told her. “I’m sure we’re at different places in our lives, and we want different things, and it’s probably a bad idea.” A frustrated sigh escaped my lungs. “But if you give me your number, Charlotte, I’m going to call you.”

There was a flickering spark of hope in her eyes, but it quickly died. “And then what? I don’t want a ‘transactional relationship,’ whatever the fuck that is.” She punched the icon on her screen, ordering her ride, and then leveled a pointed gaze at me. “You say you don’t have time for love, but I don’t have time to waste on a guy who’s telling me that dating him is never going to lead to anywhere.”

She was absolutely right, so why the hell did I feel this urge to push back, to try to encourage her to give me a chance? I should be smart and overrule the feeling.

She’s too young for you anyway.

“Give me your number,” I demanded.

She shook her head and reached for the door. “Have a nice life, Noah.”

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