Page 44 of Any Cowboy of Mine
“And when Chris got back? Did he just pass out, or did you guys talk?”
“Why the hell is that any business of yours?”
“Well, I’m wondering if what you said to each other could have scared her away if she came to see if I was here. Were you loud? Screaming like you used to do with me? Because I’m pretty sure if you’re the same with him, especially in the fucked-up state he’s in right now, the whole frickin’ floor probably heard you.”
Julia got it. He could see the light bulb click and watched her face as she replayed her conversation with Chris in her head. Her frown and furrowed brow did nothing to calm Brad’s nerves.
“Dammit, Julia, will you please think out loud? You’re making me crazy.” Brad’s foot tapped, his hands shook as he tried to interpret what she was thinking.
“Maybe. I accused Chris of being…” she trailed off, biting her bottom lip. While that coy gesture used to drive him wild for her, it just pissed him off now. She overplayed so many gestures—biting her lip, playing with the curls that gathered at the nape of her neck, winking every time she caught his eye—but didn’t realize that just being herself would have been a thousand times more attractive.
“Being?” he asked. “Being what, Julia?”
“Being with another woman,” she whispered. “He’s been sleeping with his secretary.”
Her voice had a raw edge to it, like tears were close behind.
His secretary? Jesus, what a cliché.
Chris was proving with each and every day he didn’t get karmically run over by a Mack truck that he was a world-class asshole. Brad felt the start of real sympathy for Julia, something he hadn’t felt in a long time, but he shoved it behind the mountains of other emotions he still had to mine through regarding his ex. Besides, if Sophie had walked by looking for him and heard Julia talking to someone in her room about being with another woman, would she really think it was Chris? Especially when there was a note that asked Brad to get to Julia’s room, stat? Dammit, this was getting too damn complicated. Too many what-ifs to take into account.
“We’ll get into that another time, but right now I’ve got to go.” He turned his back on her. It hit him with crushing finality that the friend he knew in Julia—the one he’d fallen for first as a person he could trust, lean on in his darkest hours, laugh with at the silly things that had happened in his day—was gone for good. Both of them knew they would never rehash why Chris might be with someone else on his wedding night, but another time, they might have, had things not gone the way they did. It made Brad sad to think about the years he was letting go, but that was too much to take on right now. No way could he unpack that here.
“Brad,” she started. He turned back to her but continued to walk toward his room, toward his phone. Jackie was his only chance of reaching Sophie, and Steve was his best bet to reach Jackie. “Good luck with her. And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” she said. Brad nodded.
“Me too,” he said, and turned back into a full sprint away from his past and closer to what he hoped would be his future.
He wasted no time when he got back shoving all his stuff into his suitcase. He only hesitated when it came to his tailored suit but hell, he could get it pressed eventually. Right now, time wasn’t on his side, suit be damned. He threw the bag over his shoulder like it weighed nothing and ran out the door without thinking twice. The hand not being used as a hoist for his suitcase he used to manhandle his phone and awkwardly dial Steve. The other line rang three times before a brusque voice answered.
“What?”
“What do you mean, ‘what’? Is Jackie there? I need to talk to her about Sophie. Please.” Brad’s breath came in short bursts, but he didn’t slow down until he got to his truck, where he tossed the bag in the bed and in one fluid movement, started the engine and whipped out of his space, nearly colliding into a car headed his same direction. The driver honked and flipped off Brad, but he couldn’t have cared less.
“Fuck you, Brad. You gave us enough shit last night. And you, my friend, have no more room to talk after what you just pulled.” Brad heard the line click and threw his phone into the passenger seat.
Shit.That answered his unasked question about if Sophie’d gone to Julia’s room and if she had, what she’d heard and shared with Jackie. It really was the worst-case scenario. He slammed his foot down on the pedal with more urgency than he ever had. Someone else honked at him as he spun out of the parking lot, but Brad barely registered anything else except catching Steve. Without taking his eyes off the road, he tried dialing Steve again, but the call went to voicemail.
Shit, shit, double shit.
Steve would probably drop Jackie at her house, so if he hurried, he’d beat Steve home. Talking to his friend face-to-face was the only way Brad was sure Steve would listen to him. He only hoped he could tell his story before Steve threw a punch—or worse.
Brad passed at least twenty cars on the road, despite it being Christmas Day. Why weren’t these people with their families?
Come on! Move!
His brain spiraled out of control wondering what Sophie must imagine him capable of. It was pretty damn clear she’d told Jackie everything, and Jackie had gone on to tell her new fiancé about whatever she thought she’d heard on the other side of that door. It made him sick to think Sophie assumed he could sleep with her, curl up against her naked body for the few remaining hours before morning, and then go back to his manipulative ex. Well, she didn’t know him any better than he knew her, his conscience argued, even when it came to his morals.
He needed to fix that, and fast.
A list of “what-ifs” ran through his head as he dodged festive travelers with reindeer antlers sprouted from the hoods of their cars. What if he’d left the note to Sophie that morning on the bathroom sink? What if he’d kissed her awake, let his body do the talking when it came to how he felt about her? What if he’d told his mom to stuff it, hadn’t humored her idiotic rant that morning? What if he’d told his dad he loved him, but rushed back to Sophie instead of lingering at the café? It made him crazy, the wondering how he could have shown her, told her that she was the most incredible woman he’d ever met so she’d never imagine the worst of him. He thought he had time, but now that one thing was working very much against him.
Dammit, get off the road.
Every single driver on the interstate seemed hell bent on taking their sweet time getting to where they needed to be, and just outside of town, traffic bottlenecked, suspending his travel indefinitely. He hit the steering wheel with the palm of his hands, something he’d just written his main character having done in the fourth novel in theJewel Thiefseries. He blanched and cursed under his breath. It was much easier to write the frustrated move than to do it. He glanced to his left and noticed a wide-eyed little boy watching him, mouth agape, clutching what looked to be a life-sized brown stuffed pony. Brad smiled at him, and the boy started crying into the fake animal’s fur.
He just couldn’t win today, could he?
While he waited, he grabbed his phone and opened his messages. He texted Steve, hoping that would get through to him more than a call would, maybe buy him some time. He didn’t know where Jackie lived, but he silently prayed it was the direction he was heading so Steve would be caught in the same holiday melee.
