Broken Ground: (Broken Series Book 1) (21 page)

Shit. I really did care about her. I must if I was sitting there with her tongue in my mouth still thinking about what was truly best for her. My dick throbbed in protest of my decision, but I ignored it.

It was the first time in my life that it had occurred to me that sex couldn't fix everything. Liberating and depressing at the same time.

When Ali finished with the last button and began pushing the shirt over my shoulders, I stopped her. "Wait a minute. We need to come up for air before things go further than we mean them to." I rubbed my hands up and down her arms, praying she wouldn't be angry.

She dropped her hands from my shoulders, placing them palms down on her thighs. Her shoulders slumped, and she breathed out a sigh before leaning her forehead to mine. "I guess I got carried away."

My heart still pounded in my chest, and my dick still strained against my zipper, but I knew I was right to stop it. "I started this. I wasn't thinking." I shrugged and looked at her swollen mouth. "Your lips are just so damn..." I groaned, frustrated at not finding the right word to describe it.

She blushed and lifted her weight off of me, struggling to keep her balance as if her knees were weak. "Thanks. You've got some great ones yourself." She offered a hand to help me up, which was hilarious since she was wobbling like a newborn calf. Not about to say that out loud, I just accepted the proffered hand and used it as little as possible as I stood. She retook her seat and polished off the rest of her tea as I slid back into the chair across from her. Setting the glass back down, she looked at me. "Is it too early to switch to wine? I could use a drink."

I looked out at the heavy rain and shrugged, trying to ignore the buzz in my ears from my still-racing heart. "It's not like we have to go to Gran's property this afternoon. Can't exactly work in this downpour and it's five o'clock somewhere, right?"

Ali went to get the wine. I stayed behind and tried to calm myself down. The sharp ache in my groin was my cock's way of punishing me for having a conscience. It was no fucking picnic, but it would fade soon and I'd walk away knowing that I did the right thing. For once.

If I'd thought for one minute that Ali was acting on genuine desire, I'd be balls-deep in her right now and to hell with the consequences. But that's not what was driving her. She was angry and feeling helpless, looking for a way to prove she was still the one calling the shots in her life, and I was a means to an end. She just didn't realize it at the time. I didn't want that. Not with her.

If I was going to flush my company and friendships down the toilet, it wouldn't be to help her prove a point. It would be because I chose it, and her, over everything else. And that wasn't a choice to be made lightly. I'd pushed this as far as I was willing to go. For now.

Ali returned with two glasses and a bottle of red wine. She filled them and placed one in front of me. After taking her seat, she took a long swallow and sighed. I sampled the wine and understood her reaction. It was delicious, and I'd never been all that crazy about red wine. I sat the glass down and realized she was watching me, an intent look on her face as if she was puzzling something out.

I glanced around uncomfortably. "What?"

Her eyes never left my face. "I was just thinking that Spencer is wrong about you."

Since when did she and Spencer talk? I hated the sharp stab of jealousy that pierced my chest at the thought of the two of them talking, laughing, and apparently discussing me. Trying to keep the irritation out of my voice, I casually lifted my glass and asked, "Wrong about what?"

"I was just thinking if you were a true manwhore, you wouldn't have stopped things."

I nearly choked to death on my fucking wine. I barely managed to swallow it, gasping and sputtering. "What? What the hell has he been saying to you?" Once I was sure I wasn't going to swallow my tongue or have a heart attack, I was pretty pissed off. How dare that bastard talk behind my back like that. And he said it to Ali; the one woman whose opinion mattered to me.

She was wide-eyed as she watched me fight to regain my composure. "He didn't say anything. I've heard him call you that about a dozen times on the phone." Seeing that I was still confused, she tried again. "When we're at Gran's property, you always turn your call volume all the way up to hear over the equipment, right?" I nodded. "So, when Spencer calls, it's hard not to hear his greeting when I'm standing a foot away from you. He usually starts out with 'Hey, manwhore'."

Shit. She was right. Why had it never occurred to me that she could hear that? I usually excused myself to take phone calls but she probably still heard the beginning of the conversations. Fuck. Me.

"Like I said, I think he's wrong." She didn't look at me this time, probably afraid she had upset me with her admission.

I didn't want her to think I was mad at her, so I went with, "He is. The nickname is highly inaccurate. I've never charged for it in my life." I deadpanned.

Her head jerked up, and I met her gaze with a playful smile. She beamed at me, obviously relieved, and raised her glass toward me. "If you did, I have no doubt you'd be worth every penny."

I clinked my glass to hers and winked. "Might even be more lucrative than building and design. Then again," I mused, "I've heard that trying to make money doing something you're passionate about takes the fun out of it. Wouldn't want that, now would I?" I smirked.

"Definitely not." She chuckled as she sipped her wine, but I could tell she was curious about the origins of the nickname.

I had no idea how to even begin explaining my past to her and was kind of shocked that I even wanted to try. Maybe it was because whatever she'd made up in her head might be even worse than the truth, if that was possible. I'd never been ashamed of my sexual escapades until that moment. Something in the depths of her emerald eyes made me wish I could take it all back. Every hookup, every anonymous encounter, and every touch I hadn't given to her felt like a shameful betrayal. It was irrational, and I didn't understand it, but I wanted it all to disappear. As I considered all that had happened over the years, all I'd done, I felt suddenly unclean, unworthy.

I drained the remainder of my wine and reached for the bottle. Ali nodded when I arched a brow at her and I began to fill her glass, eyes on the task instead of her as I began. "Spencer's called me a manwhore for years. It started out as a joke but, given my track record with women, it sort of stuck." Done with her glass, I sat back and got to work on my own. "I don't think he means anything by it most of the time but some days he says it with just enough emphasis to make it clear that it's more of a judgment than a joke. He doesn't really approve of my choices in regards to women. I guess I've made a mess of my personal life, and he gets tired of seeing me screw up over and over." I watched the raindrops dance across the surface of the pool, not sure how to continue this conversation.

"It's not his place to approve or disapprove, and he doesn't know what he's talking about anyway. You know who you are. That's all that matters." I smiled as she turned my words back on me. "And I don't care if you've humped your way from Maine to Florida, you're not a whore. You're my friend, and I won't listen to anyone bad-mouthing my friend. That includes you." She leaned forward and tugged my chin toward her. "Understand?"

The sincerity and compassion in her eyes almost broke me. She meant what she said. I wasn't damaged in her eyes; I wasn't tainted by my past. I realized I loved her at that moment. Loved the way she looked at me without judgment, the way she saw the good in me even when I didn't. I loved everything about her.

Holy fuck. I loved her.

I absolutely fucking adored a woman who I'd been lying to from the moment we met.

No matter how I spun it in my mind, I knew I'd lose her in the end. The momentary elation of realizing my feelings was crushed beneath the impending doom of my past. I may have admitted to being a slut, but there was still one secret I couldn't bring myself to tell her. One admission that was too horrible to make. I'd spent twenty years burying it in the back of my mind, and I didn't think I could unearth it for anyone. Not even Ali.

She still held my chin in her hand, watching me. I knew I'd never get to tell her how I felt. To do so would be selfish on my part. Love and honesty went hand-in-hand, and I couldn't offer one without the other. It would just end up hurting her. I couldn't do that. She deserved better.

I smiled softly, hoping she didn't see the worry in my face or the adoration. "Understood, Miss Walker."

Her answering smile was radiant, and it made the tightness in my chest even worse.

I had to keep my feelings to myself. If I couldn't do that, I'd have to love her enough to let her go.

WEDNESDAY EVENING,
I excused myself to my temporary office to get some work done while the girls watched a movie in the living room. They finally seemed to be settled in, really settled in a way that let them put their feet on the coffee table and raid the refrigerator without feeling like an intruder. They looked comfortable relaxing on the couch and laughing together at the comedy they were watching.

It was nice having them there, the sounds of their laughter and chatter in the mornings, the smell of Talia's expensive Italian roast and thick cut bacon. It made the cabin feel alive for the first time since my arrival.

Despite the circumstances surrounding their stay, I was glad they were there.

I sat at the small desk in the spare bedroom that I'd converted into my office and opened my email, scrolling absently through my inbox while I pulled out my phone to call Brant.

He answered on the second ring, sounding excited. "Bout damn time you got back to work, slacker," he said by way of greeting. "I thought I was going to have to send a search party after you."

I laughed at his teasing. "Just letting you have a few extra days to come up with something worth building. Consider it a favor. You need all the help you can get."

We didn't usually banter so much but then again, we didn't usually have to work on independent projects either. The ball-busting was mostly relief at having time to work on something as a team again.

Once we'd sufficiently given each other hell, we got down to work and made a surprising amount of progress in the little time we had. We were laying out the blueprints for a job we were set to start in the fall and methodically going over the client's specifications to see how much wiggle room we had for upgrades and modifications.

It was a process that we went through with every project, tossing out ideas and using each other as soundboards for new concepts.

We reached a stopping point and agreed to pick it back up over the weekend. I'd long ago heard Ali and Talia head off to bed and was just about to hang up when Brant asked about the gala. I gave him the rundown, minus the mind-blowing activities at Ali's apartment afterward.

There was laughter in his voice when he asked, "So, is it true that Spence called in the office help to get you fitted for a tux?"

I inwardly groaned at the memory. When Brant's soft laughter became more pronounced, I realized the groan wasn't inward at all. "Ha ha, very funny. You know damn well he did."

"Talk about throwing a guy to the cheek-pinching, blue-haired wolves..." There was a loud thump and a few seconds of static before Brant's voice came back on the line. "Sorry, was laughing so hard I dropped the damn phone."

He didn't sound the least bit sorry.

"That's okay, fucker. Laugh it up. Spencer definitely won this round, but payback's a bitch."

WHEN THURSDAY CAME,
I was nervous. Ali and I had spent the majority of the week together, whether at home or work, but Talia had been a sort of buffer. Knowing she was there, or would be there after her shift ended, had kept me from a repeat of what happened on the patio. It hadn't been easy to keep my distance. More than once I had looked at the clock and done the math to see how long I had until Talia got back from work, thinking of all the carnal ways Ali and I could be passing the available time. I'd also spent a good deal of the week just watching her, noticing little mannerisms that I found adorable. Like the way she talked with her hands when she was excited or the way she leaned subtly toward me no matter where we were, something she seemed unaware of.