Page 54 of Heartbreaker

But touching her?—

Nope. Not going there.

“Definitely handy,” I say. “He handles security for Banks, Atlas, and I as necessary, and has loads of other clients in Hollywood.”

“Is it dangerous?”

“It can be.”

She touches my shoulder. “You must worry about him.”

“He’s very good at his job.”

“You still worry.” She’s not wrong, and I find that I can’t lie to her.

“We all worry. After we lost Colt?—”

She gasps, and I remember she couldn’t know that.

“It was four years ago now,” I tell her. “He and Dash were in the military. A mission went very wrong and Colt died. After…well, Dash was so cut up about it, we thought we’d lose him too. But we managed to find something to keep us together.”

“What?”

“The Sapphire Room.”

“That…sounds familiar.”

“It’s a private club down in L.A.,” I explain. “Colt was a big partier, and he would have gotten a huge kick out of owning a club, especially one with a drink named after him.”

Jade touches my arm. “That’s really cool of you guys to do that.”

A blip of guilt slides through me.

Because, yeah, I kicked in some money, but I haven’t exactly been hands on. I’ve been relying on Atlas and Banks—and now, Aspen, since she became manager—to run the club. I need to pull my weight more, need to not be such a grumpy, useless asshole.

“Colt was important to us all,” I tell her and hold up my arm, showing her the tattoo we all got memorializing him. “Each of the guys has this, albeit in different spots, and the club…” I exhale, the pain of losing him still almost excruciating. “We get together often, but we always make sure to do it on his birthday—to tie one on and drink Gamebreakers in his honor. There are girls and food and…” I shrug. “It’s a tribute to him.”

“That’s beautiful,” she murmurs.

“Yeah,” I agree.

The quiet that falls between us isn’t tense.

It’s…contemplative.

At least until the pasta water almost boils over. Then Jade’s snagging the pot, draining off the water. I step back as she dumps the pasta into the pot of sauce, stirring it so it’s completely covered before handing me a loaf of French bread.

“Would you mind slicing this?” She scowls, swatting at that errant strand of hair that’s escaped again.

She’s cute as hell.

“Slicing is well within my skill set,” I tell her as I take the bread.

A laugh. “Glad to hear it.”

In short order, we’ve—well,Jade—has made up plates and I bring the bread and butter to the table. There’s a container of salad in the fridge, so I snag that too so we can pretend to be healthy. But really, I’ve got my eye on the tiramisu.

The silence falls between us again, and I can’t help but feel…

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