More Than Hate You (More Than Words)

“I don’t know who would run Reservoir, but that’s farther down the road. The most important thing now is for you to stop the bleeding.”

“Before it dies. Right.” She’s clearly getting a hold of her emotions now, because she sounds more determined than crushed.

“Exactly. I hate that I’m sitting here in M—” I barely stop myself from admitting that I’m in Maui. “Maricopa County, Arizona. But whatever I can do from here, just tell me. I’ll do my best, baby. I just don’t want to hear you cry anymore.”

“It’s not the first time; it won’t be the last. I just appreciate you listening and trying to help.”

“Absolutely.”

“I can’t remember the last time anyone was willing to go to the mat for me. I usually do that for people, and it almost always blows up in my face. But thank you for being protective and…thoughtful.”

If she only knew, and guilt suddenly plunges into my chest, stabbing at my heart like a blade. I can’t be totally honest with Sloan. I’ve made this fucking torture rack of a bed that I have to lie in. But I can tell her a few truths. “It’s been a long time since I really felt a connection to someone I understood. I usually gravitate to women who are…”

“Softer? Sweeter? Less pushy?” she supplies for me. “My mom used to call me plucky and tell me that some people would like me for it. Those who didn’t just didn’t have enough spine, she’d say. But I have yet to find a man who really wants to be challenged. It’s understandable if you don’t, either. That makes you normal.”

“No, it made me blind.” And it’s true. I always wanted to help Becca. She seemed sad and lonely, so fragile—everything Sloan isn’t. Suddenly, I can’t remember why I was drawn to a woman so unsure of herself, one with no aspirations and no grasp of the fact every person has one life, so what they make of it is up to them. Becca waited for everyone to make her life for her. Evan tried. I would have tried, too, if I wouldn’t have been betraying my best friend.

Suddenly, I wonder…would Becca and I have made each other miserable? Or do I only wonder that because I have a woman so opposite, so vibrant, to compare her to?

“McBride…” She sighs. “Jeremy, you don’t have to—”

“Be nice?” I snap, mostly because I hate her calling me by a name that isn’t mine. It’s not her fault; I did this to myself. But that only makes me hate it more. “Say things I don’t mean? I don’t bother with that shit. And look, I know this is a professional relationship, and I have no business making it personal, but the truth is I’ve never met a woman more fascinating than you. If we didn’t work together and we didn’t live in different states…”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

I laugh, mostly at my own eagerness. “Oh, I fucking would. In a heartbeat. Baby, I’m in your corner. I’m on your side.” Well, except when it comes to the Wynam project. “You’re going to succeed, and I’ll help you any way I can.”

She exhales. The sound is choppy and full of emotion again. “That might be the kindest thing any man has ever said to me. For the record, if we didn’t work together and we didn’t live in different states, I fucking would, too. In a heartbeat. Thanks.”

April 2

“Bas?” Evan snaps his fingers in my face. “Projections for European growth if Wynam doesn’t choose us? I’m leaving for London on Friday for this face-to-face, but that hardly means we’re a shoo-in for this account. We need to know our cash position in a worst-case scenario.”

“Yeah. Sure.” I rifle through the papers in front of me, mostly to stall for time while I yank my thoughts back in line. The prospective client invited Evan across the pond, which is great. But that makes everything critical now…and I can’t seem to focus.

Usually, I would know the answer to his question off the top of my head. If I could stop thinking about Sloan for two seconds put together, I’d be able to answer my boss and best friend, no problem. But on a Monday following a sleepless Sunday night? It’s not happening.

“What’s up with you? You’ve been distracted all day.”

I haven’t told Evan anything about my last call with Sloan, and it’s eating at me. Normally, I would have spilled the juicy details about Reservoir’s uncertain future. I would have coughed up every morsel of information about what might be their impending financial collapse if no one steps in. Their loss is our gain.

So why are you withholding?

I already know the answer. Evan is a good guy, sure. But he’s a damn smart man. He would never want me to create a competitor’s misfortune so he could benefit…but he’d be pissed if I ignored trouble already brewing because I’d suddenly grown a conscience—or a heart.

I’m in a fucking quandary, and I shouldn’t be. In a competition of who I most owe my allegiance to, the guy I’ve been friends with for a dozen years definitely wins out over my ball-busting phone-a-friend. Sloan is the target I’m supposed to hustle. She’s the ticket to Evan’s expansion dreams. I’m not supposed to care about her.

I need to stop hesitating and finish this job.

“Bas?” Evan prompts.

“There’s something going on with Sloan.”

He narrows his eyes. “You want to roll that past me again?”

He’s pissed. I can’t figure it out until I replay what I said in my head. Shit, it sounds like I’m having a fling with the competition. Technically, I’m not—no matter how much I wish otherwise.

“That didn’t come out right. I mean that Sloan is acting oddly, and I’m trying to figure out what’s up.”