Perfectly Shattered (7 page)

Many of the big corporations either already had offices there or were planning to open them. One of the biggies had just announced securing nearly three million square feet of office space. It was Bradan’s dream to compete with such entities one day. But it was going to take a lot of hard work, skill, and genius. He didn’t know about the genius part, but the hard work he could manage. And the skill was developing.

His older brother had his own social media company, and had started in that field when he was a kid. Not as a business, just a hobby. It was one of those talents that just paid off. Once Sean Reid had been old enough for the business world, he had never thought of working for someone else. He hadn’t had to. And when you are young, taking risks isn’t such a big deal. Not for Bradan either. His brother had always been a role model for him. And if Sean could do it, so could Bradan. Maybe a little slower, but he’d get there.

By the time five rolled around and everyone started taking off, Bradan had put his friendly date of the night before out of his mind. The challenges of web designing were programming puzzles that absorbed his attention. He’d been working with Ian on a new project, and after racking their brains for days over a particular issue, they’d had a breakthrough.

When happy hour called, though, Bradan shoved back from his desk and took off with a group of co-workers. The bar at the downtown restaurant was packed when they got there. It didn’t seem to make a difference that it was a weeknight. Likely the place was always full with the after-work crowd.

The interior was dark with polished wood counters and chairs. They found a larger table near the wall and settled in. So far, Ian had remained unattached, as Bradan had. Enjoying the attention of two female co-workers, one seated on either side of him, Ian was telling them a story. Both women laughed.

Drinks were ordered, and Bradan sipped his. The bar menu sported a list of offerings with clever names. The ladies each ordered one that was pear brandy, rum, and a squeeze of lime. Ian decided on one of the ales on draft from a local brewer. Bradan stuck with whiskey on the rocks. It went down well.

He bantered about programming with a couple of co-workers, and then the talk drifted to sports. Bradan wasn’t very interested in talking, but he did feel better nearing the end of his second drink. The pretzels and nuts didn’t do much to slow down the alcohol, and he felt a mild buzz. A few of the group made their way to the dining room to eat.

Perfume wafted up, and a well-built brunette slid onto the stool beside him. She had huge, dark eyes, finely sculpted features, and full lips. The top of her dress was just low enough to allow a view of some cleavage, which Bradan didn’t mind. She was a looker; he thought maybe Greek from her coloring and features.

“Mind if I sit here?” She looked over at him with a coy smile.

“Not at all. What are you drinking?”

“White wine, please.”

Bradan ordered her wine and another whiskey for himself. “I don’t think we’ve met.”

With a winning smile, showing straight white teeth, she said, “Carla Ward.”

The glass of wine was set in front of her.

“I’m Bradan Reid. I would have guessed a different last name. You have a Greek look.”

She giggled. “My mother’s side. But I grew up in New York. Moved here recently.”

“Looking for something or getting away from something?”

Carla shrugged. “A little of both. For now I’m working in fashion.”

“Of course.” Bradan was feeling comfortable. The whiskey had worked its magic, relaxing him, and he was in his element. If all went well, he would have Carla in his bed later, and that sounded much better than being alone.

The women he met filled a void, one he didn’t want to think about. And he liked beautiful women. Was anything wrong with that? Eventually, they ordered some food, but never left the bar. His other friends gradually migrated to the dining room or left to go home, either alone or with whoever they’d connected up with.

While drinking and talking to Carla, the only friend Bradan noticed was Ian. And that was only because he popped into the bar to wave goodbye before he took off with one of the co-workers he’d been sitting next to earlier. Alone with a beautiful woman, Bradan was feeling better. But it was temporary.

They left the bar together and Carla snuggled next to him against the wind. Even with coats on, it was bitterly cold. There was no question that she was willing to go home with him, actually wanted to. Bradan even stopped at a corner and, pressing her against the brick wall, kissed her hard, desperately. But what was he desperate for? He didn’t want to take Carla home, and that surprised him. It had never happened before: a woman in his arms and Bradan rejecting her. Not understanding his own feelings, he leaned back and ran his hand through his hair.

“Do you live far?” Carla looked at him, her lips still parted from the kiss.

Bradan shook his head. “I have something I have to take care of, Carla. Maybe next time.”

And he walked away. Just like that. It made no sense.
Something I have to take care of
. What did that mean? Increasing his pace against the chill of the night, Bradan negotiated the short distance home. He was unsettled and unhappy. And alone.

Chapter 8

On a weeknight, Cami would normally stay in. It hadn’t been easy to cultivate new habits, and going out to clubs would only make it harder. But when Brittany pleaded for her to go to dinner, she couldn’t refuse. Her friend had it hard, going from one guy to the next. She always seemed crazy about them, but they never seemed to call.

One advantage to the restaurant Brittany chose was that it was known for the brick-oven gulf shrimp. Cami wanted to try them. She’d look at it as research—though she didn’t own a brick oven, so no matter how good it was the dish wouldn’t be one to include in the upcoming competition.

But good food was a draw anyway. The shrimp were served over stone-ground grits flavored with bacon and citrus. The dish was mouthwatering, and lived up to its reputation.

“I wonder if I can have a brick oven installed in my apartment. I have to make this dish. Here, taste it.” Cami forked a plump shrimp into her friend’s mouth.

“Yum,” she said with her mouth still full.

Over dinner they caught up on anything worthy of discussion. Cami got the full details of the sexual interlude with Tyler, whether she wanted them or not. But the telling of the tale only made Brittany more depressed that he hadn’t called her again.

“Maybe he’s just traveling. You know, busy.”

“How long does it take to text? He just doesn’t want to see me.”

“You just haven’t found the right guy yet.”

“Have you?”

“No, but I haven’t been looking.”

“What about Bradan?”

“What about him?”

“You guys went to dinner. How did that go?”

Cami shrugged, trying to appear more casual than she felt. “Okay. We’re just friends, I suppose. We talked. It’s the first time I’ve gotten to know him. He’s different in person than from a distance.”

Brittany laughed. “Most people are.”

“No, I mean when he’s not drinking. He was like a normal guy.”

“A normal hot guy, you mean.”

Cami hadn’t been able to get him out of her mind since the night before. She wasn’t sure how to handle it.
Friends
, he’d said. She’d have to settle for that. Not that she wanted more anyway. She didn’t know what she wanted.

They ate every bite on their plates and ordered dessert. It was partly because Cami wanted to extend their time together so Brittany wouldn’t feel so alone, and partly because she wanted to try banana-pecan bread pudding. Another new dish for her.

“Let’s split it,” Brittany said. “I’m stuffed.”

Rubbing her stomach, Cami agreed. The dessert came on two plates, already split for them, and they dug in. The pudding was rich and flavorful, but after two bites neither could handle any more. Sipping coffee, they talked another half-hour or so, and finally it was time to go. Dinner had taken hours and Brittany felt better.

With her coat buttoned tight, a scarf around her neck, and gloves on, Cami pushed through the door to the street. With her head down against the cold, she edged along the sidewalk. When she glanced up to get her bearings, Cami froze.

Down the block was Bradan. She’d recognize that body anywhere. And he was with yet another woman. Did it never end? The worst part was that he was kissing her, and the sight of it made Cami’s heart fall. What did she expect?

Brittany stopped behind her, nearly running into her. “What? Why are you stopping? It’s freezing out here.”

Cami turned around with her back to the intimate scene she’d just witnessed. Whispering, though at that distance there was no way Bradan could hear, she said, “Oh my God, it’s Bradan.”

Brittany gazed up the street.

“Don’t look. I don’t want him to see me. Let’s get out of here.”

Jogging a little to keep up with Cami, her friend said, “I thought you were just friends.”

“We are,” Cami said, not stopping. Once she rounded the corner, she leaned against the building. “I can’t believe it. He’s with a different woman every time I see him. And he seemed so…I don’t know…sincere or something last night. I’m such a fool.”

“You like him, don’t you?”

“Is it that obvious?”

Brittany nodded. “Let’s get off this street. I’m freezing my ass off.”

A block up, Cami split with her friend and headed off in the direction of her apartment. She just wanted to get home, safe behind a locked door, away from the likes of Bradan. The biting cold didn’t affect her. She hardly felt it. If anything, the prickles of pain from the icy wind felt good. The more the better. Anything to distract her from the worse pain in her heart.

Inside, she cranked up the heat and fell into a fetal position on the sofa. Lecturing herself on how she had no hold on Bradan didn’t make her feel better. It made her feel worse. She hated that they were just friends, because they weren’t even that. They were nothing. Had nothing. And the warm conversation she’d had with him was a tease and nothing else.

Bad habits don’t die easily, though Cami had done a decent job of curbing them since her arrival in the city. But this was too much. She opened the cupboard and yanked out the first bottle of wine she found. There were several she’d brought with her from the winery before they sold it. There was no better occasion to drink some of it.

She sat staring into space, not even bothering to turn on music. By her second glass, Cami felt a little numb but no better. The opposite. The alcohol had opened the floodgates of her emotions, and tears welled in her eyes. She remembered why she’d stopped drinking. But it was too late.

Gulping the wine, she hoped she choked on it. Ending it all. Life wasn’t fair. It seemed just when things took a turn for the better, all hope was dashed. The same had happened over and over. After working so hard to regain her footing, Cami felt she couldn’t take much more. If only she were strong. But she wasn’t.

There were many things she could have thought of—reasons to feel better and excuses for the situation. The truth was she didn’t care. Bradan was all she wanted. If that hadn’t been clear to her before, it was then. Unable to muster any rationality about the incident, all she could do was see him kissing the woman. The image wouldn’t go from her mind.

Finally, she staggered to her bed, letting the empty wine bottle roll across the floor. With her face buried in her pillow, Cami sobbed uncontrollably. There was no inclination to stop crying and every reason to collapse. Every reason. It was more than just Bradan, but he could have made the difference.

Didn’t she know better than to count on him? And she couldn’t even blame him. He’d said
friends
, and he hadn’t even kissed her good night. Cami should have taken the hint and moved on. But she couldn’t. She never could. That was her problem.

*****

The next day sucked. And Bradan didn’t call. Not that Cami expected him to. His suggestion to show her places in Seattle had been lame, as was his offer to be friends. It was all bogus.

Then it started. The following day Bradan texted that he wanted to meet. Cami had decided to steer clear of him. She couldn’t trust herself, and she certainly couldn’t trust him. Ignoring his messages, since she didn’t have work with Blue Skirt that day, she focused on developing dishes for the contest. But she ached inside, an ache she had never wanted to feel again. But it seemed she had no choice.

Late the next afternoon, she left the kitchen in a mess and grabbed her coat to go out for coffee. Bouncing down the stairs, she ran smack into Bradan, who was coming up. The impact with his rock-hard body stunned her, and the warm sensation that went through her the instant she recognized him swept away all reason.

“Bradan, what are you doing here?”

He looked so impossibly handsome. Cami reminded herself that she was mad at him, that he was bad for her, and everything else she could think of.

“I came to see you. You aren’t answering my texts. Why not?”

Exasperated, Cami let out a big breath. “You have to ask?”

“Yeah. Are you mad at me?”

“Yes, I’m mad at you.” Even as she said it, Cami knew he had no clue why.

“I guess that’s one thing I do without trying.”

Cami raised a brow.

Bradan shrugged. “Make women mad at me.”

“How can you not? Jesus, Bradan.” She glared at him.

“I thought we got along the other night.” He looked so innocent, but she knew he was anything but. Cami tried to shove images of him naked with the woman he’d been kissing from her mind.

“We talked, okay? I know, just friends. I got it.”

“Then why are you mad?”

Cami exploded. “Mad? Why am I mad? I’ll tell you why I’m mad. Every time I see you it’s with a different woman. I can’t even go to dinner with my friend without running into you. And there you were, leaning on some gorgeous woman outside, kissing her for all you’re worth. It’s disgusting.”

Bradan smiled.

“It’s not funny.”