Beautifully Broken (Reckless Bastards MC 1)

“No, I don’t need fucking coffee. Just tell me what the hell is going on?” His hands landed on my shoulder and I tensed even though my body wanted to lean into his, feel the hot, hard heat of his body. But I couldn’t. Nothing felt right anymore and I just wanted to cry.

“Nothing is going on with me, Max. You showed up when clearly you didn’t want to be here and now you have to get up early, so I’ll see you whenever.”

“What the hell does that mean?” His voice roared in my small kitchen, making me jump.

“It doesn’t matter, Max.” I pulled the drain on the water and turned. “Good night.” My pulse raced as I looked up at him, those big gray eyes dark as gun metal and as intense as a hurricane. I loved him, but a love like this might kill me. He stared at me for a long time before he nodded, turned on his heels and left.

I changed into a long t-shirt that came just below my knees before curling up on the sofa with the rest of my sangria. Reality came crashing down at the bottom of the third glass. I thought Max and I were building something, working towards a real relationship. But we weren’t. We were nothing more than two people who spent time together and fucked. That was it. Now that I knew that painful truth, I had an even harder decision to make.

Could I live in this half of a relationship where Max slipped out of my bed each night and went home to face his demons alone? I’d have killed for someone other than an overworked social worker to help me deal with the trauma of my scars. Yet here I was, not enough.

Again.

As my eyelids grew heavy, the answer skated on the outer edges of my consciousness. I might not be the prettiest girl around, or the smartest. But I did have some self-respect left.

Mostly.

But what did self-respect matter when you were facing heartbreak for the very first time?

***

“Everything looks good as far as bookkeeping, but I noticed you aren’t taking advantage of every deduction you could, and I’ve put it in my notes so you can think about it.” I sat across from Mr. Cross inside my office, dressed like a professional in plain black pants and a black blouse, doing my best not to notice how much…man he was. Not that I was interested in him like that, but the man had a presence that was hard to ignore. He was big, really big, at least six and a half feet with the body of a linebacker. I imagined he wasn’t a man who had a hard time with the ladies. But he was a client and those thoughts were totally inappropriate. “Otherwise, Mr. Cross, your business is thriving. Congratulations.”

He grinned a sheepish sort of grin that showed off oddly boyish dimples and he scraped a hand over his short chocolate colored hair. “Thanks, and it’s just Cross. Ms. Carter.”

“Jana, please,” I said automatically because it was good to keep things semi-formal when handling people’s money. “Do you have any questions?” He shook his head and I stood to lead him out of the house when I remembered one final thing. “Have you considered taking advantage of the green tourism with shirts and bags and other things people might want as souvenirs they can actually take home with them?”

He blinked and stood. “I hadn’t, but I’ll have the guys look into it. Thank you again, Ms., ah, Jana.”

“No problem,” I told him as I pulled open the door and offered up a hand to shake. “I’ll send updates quarterly and call if anything sends up any alarm bells, okay?”

“Sounds good. Thanks again.”

“What the fuck is going on here?”

I startled at the sound of Max’s angry voice and turned to see his nostrils flaring and spitting out fire. He was spoiling for a fight. I clenched my jaws and smiled at Mr. Cross. “You’ll have to forgive my friend, apparently he’s forgotten his manners.”

“Don’t worry about it, Jana. Thanks for your help.” He gave a wave but he didn’t move and I felt like something was happening that I didn’t quite understand.

“My brother wasn’t enough? What are you, some fucking down low biker bunny?”

I sucked in a breath, and in that moment, I completely understood what people meant when they said their heart broke in half. Nothing in my life, not the attack by Robert or the greater betrayal of Karen, not even the death of my parents had hurt as much as this. Because I was too young to remember, but now it felt like a small favor. His eyes were filled with disgust, his voice dripping with hate. Mr. Cross stood between us and I tried to push him aside. “Mr. Cross, please, don’t get involved. I’m fine.”

He ignored me, glaring down at Max because as big as Max was, he was bigger. “What the fuck is your problem with me and why are you talking to Ms. Carter like that?” A giant hand landed on Max’s chest and he moved back a step.

“Ms.? Why the fuck are you calling her Ms. Carter?”

Mr. Cross frowned down at him, blue eyes as dark and angry as Max’s gray ones. “It’s her name asshole, and generally how people address those they have professional relationships with. Asshole.”

He blinked once. Twice. And I could see the moment it had all become clear because his shoulders deflated all the anger out of him, but he didn’t seem at all contrite. “Oh. Why didn’t you say anything?”

Ugh, men. I shook my head and turned on my heels, slamming the door behind me. Max was a jerk and I was the idiot who’d gone and fallen for the first guy to show me a little honest attention. As angry as I was, as much as Max’s words had hurt me, I was angrier with myself. I let myself believe that I could have something normal, something fun and light and hot. I should’ve known better.

Life had forced the lesson down my throat enough times.

I stopped in my office to save the documents again and shut down my computer for the day as the bell rang out front. Ignoring it was easy enough since I knew who it would be, but just to make it easier I went into my bedroom to change and cranked up the music. I could still hear the bell, just barely so I turned up the volume again and made my way to the kitchen.

Cooking wasn’t just a necessity, it was a great way to channel excess energy while I thought through problems, whether professional or personal. Admittedly there hadn’t been many personal problems in my life, many a professional conundrum had been resolved in my tiny kitchen. By the time I’d completely scaled the trout, the knocking and ringing had stopped.