Page 42 of Sticking Around

I scratch my head and glance over my shoulder to make sure Melanie isn’t listening. “What are you talking about?”

“I bet you can’t get her to fall in love with you. Fucking is one thing, falling for your sorry cod ass is another.”

“You’re saying she’d never fall for me?” My stomach tightens, because maybe that’s what I really want.

“Oh, it’s on, buddy.”

Before I can tell him it’s not, a loud laugh reverberates through the phone before he ends the call. I shake my head and walk to the car. I glance back at the house and that’s when I see movement at the window. I stare for a second. Is Melanie watching me? I hope to fuck she didn’t overhear anything. But no, not Melanie, it’s some dude and it looks to me like he’s fully dressed. Son of a bitch.

That guy and Melanie’s roommate were fucking around—but not fucking at all. Bastards. Every protective instinct I possess grips me hard, and all I want to do is take Melanie home and make life a little bit fucking easier for her.

I’m about to turn when the guy’s eyes go wide, and he starts to open the window. Clearly, he recognizes me.

“Hey,” he calls out, wanting my attention. Without looking up, I give it to him, by means of a middle finger.

14

Melanie

A loud laugh crawls out of my throat as I turn in the passenger seat to admire Brady’s strong profile. I can’t seem to pull myself together, and maybe it has more to do with the lightness inside of me, than Brady telling my roommate’s boyfriend to fuck off with a hand gesture. It really was kind of funny.

I didn’t even know what was happening until I heard Jess’s fiancé cursing and ran to the window to see what was going on. I found Brady giving him the finger, while putting his phone to his ear. I have no idea who he called, and he didn’t offer up the information. Not that it’s any of my business. We’re just friends with benefits for the next couple of weeks, and well, maybe more now that I’m going to be staying with him.

I take the band off my wrist and tie my hair up, still chuckling. “I can’t believe you gave him the middle finger.”

“He deserved it,” Brady snorts as he drives through Boston’s Sunday traffic. I laugh again and he grins at me. “They’re both assholes. Sorry, I know Jess is your roommate…”

“I know. But still…” I sink back into the seat. “You should have heard him curse you out.”

“I did. He opened his window, remember?” He casts me a fast glance. “Did he really think I was going to be his buddy or give him an autograph after that ridiculous display of fake fucking? Screw him.”

“Yeah, screw him.” I chuckle as he flicks on his signal. “How about right here?”

I look to the left and see a quaint coffee shop, one I’d seen but had never been in before. “As good as any.” He circles the downtown core, searching for a parking spot, but it’s Sunday and busy.

“Damn tourists. Hogging all the good parking spots. Arseholes.”

There’s a twang in his voice when he says arseholes, and I assume it’s a popular Newfoundland word. “Arseholes? Really?” I stare at him. “Aren’t you a tourist yourself?”

“No, I live here. Remember?” He arches a brow and playfully does a weird bobble head thing that suggests I might have been dropped on my head at birth. The verdict is still out on that.

“Have you seen any of Boston, though?” Honestly, touring the city with him would be fun. Letting him see it through my eyes, and going on rides…well, maybe that would give him back a piece of his childhood.

He slows as a SUV pulls out of a space. “I’ve seen the inside of the Bucks arena. What else is there?”

“Ohmigod, Brady. Boston is full of history, shops, museums and great restaurants. You have to take in some of the downtown sights.”

Once again, he casts me a joking look that suggests I might be insane. “Do I now?” Once the SUV leaves, he eases into the spot, and kills the ignition. “Come on. I have a headache from all the screaming and need a strong coffee.”

Snatching up my backpack, I step from the car and on the sidewalk, we head toward the crosswalk. I note the way a few people stare, their eyes lighting as they recognize Brady. He keeps his head tucked, which is odd for a guy who supposedly loves all the limelight and attention. Oh Brady Fisher, there is so much more to you than you want the world to see. Strong fingers close around mine and hold tight, and my chest tightens around my heart as he pulls me to him, like right now, he wants the world to consist of only him and me.

We reach the coffee shop, and delicious scents fill my nostrils as he pulls the door open and puts his hand on the small of my back to usher me in. “You want to grab a table for us?”

I nod and search for a table in the busy café. As I drop into a seat and pull my laptop from my backpack, and as a loud shriek fills the space, two thoughts hit at once. Either my roommate is here and she and her partner are faking sex again, or the place is getting robbed. I stiffen as I lift my head, only to relax—slightly—when I find a group of girls surrounding Brady.

An instant wave of jealousy grips me by the throat as they throw themselves at him. Jeez, are they even fourteen? Okay fine, they’re all in their early twenties and seeing the way they’re dressed, with their boobs hanging out, reminds me I’m approaching thirty, and Brady is younger than me. Why the heck is he with me when he can have any of those girls, probably all at the same time?

I try to ignore all the fangirling, but it’s impossible, considering more and more girls, as well as women and men, are jumping from their seats to get Brady’s autograph. One of the blondes scribbles something on a napkin and stuffs it into the front of his jeans. Brady grins and smiles and when he says something to her, she laughs like it’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard in her life.

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