“Sheep…” He stepped closer to me. His boots crunched against the cold concrete, and his hand gently slipped into my hair. His fingertips brushed against my cheek before he cupped my face. He brought his head close to mine, his lips just inches away.
I melted—like always. There was nothing I wanted more than to abandon my apartment and go home with him. I missed those crisp sheets. I missed his fireplace near his bed. I missed sleeping so soundly because I knew nothing could ever hurt me.
But then I remembered I wasn’t the last person to sleep there. Two obnoxious gold diggers had taken my place. With their arms and legs draped around his body, they’d claimed him as theirs. I was so easily replaced.
I grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand down. “I can’t forget what you did. I can’t stop thinking about it. It makes me want to cry every single time.”
He released a deep breath as his hand slowly lowered to his side.
“I want to fall in love with a man who wants to fall in love with me. You may be a good man who took care of me, but that’s not good enough. I want commitment, loyalty, and integrity. I want a man who would never, ever hurt me. That isn’t you…”
“It is me,” he whispered. “Give me a chance.”
I stepped away. “No.” I turned to walk off.
“Sheep.”
I turned back around. “Please don’t call me that anymore.” He had no idea how much pain this caused me. I wanted to jump into his car and drive to our happily ever after. That apartment would never feel like home, not the way his estate did. Walking away from him was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do. I would never love anyone else the way I loved him…but I had to try. “Bye…”
He stayed on the sidewalk and watched me walk away. He didn’t try to change my mind again. He didn’t threaten to stay married to me forever. He finally let me go.
Finally let me walk away.
Brandon watched me pull on my jacket then fix my hair. He stayed in bed, the sheets bunched around his waist. With tanned skin and a pretty face, he was a great man to share a mattress with. “Your mind always seems to be somewhere else.”
“Not always.”
“No. Always.” He got out of bed and started to get dressed. “Divorce is hard…especially when you don’t want to get divorced.”
“I thought I said I don’t want to talk about that.”
“You did—but you’re always thinking about it.” He pulled his shirt over his head then came closer to me. “It’s alright. Now I understand that I can’t compete with this guy. No one can.”
“There’s nothing to compete with. We’re over.”
“You’re not over him.”
I held his gaze. “I never said I was…” I was sleeping with Brandon so I could forget about Maverick, but the haze wasn’t as strong as it used to be. The high Brandon gave me became weaker and weaker every time we were together.
He bowed his head slightly. “Well, I like you. But now I’m starting to worry that you’ll never like me.”
“I said I wasn’t looking for anything serious.”
“Yeah, but things change.”
It wouldn’t change for a long time. I had been with Maverick for over six months. Feelings like that didn’t just go away…not easily.
“Can I walk you to work?”
“No…I’m okay.” I headed to the front door and grabbed my keys on the way out.
Brandon walked with me until we reached the sidewalk. “You want a ride?”
“No. I’d rather walk.”
He continued to watch me like he hoped I would change my mind. He was a beautiful man and it was surprising that he had his attention set on me, but I didn’t feel anything. There wasn’t that burning chemistry like there was with Maverick. He gave a slight nod before he walked away. “I’ll see you later, then.”
The bar was quiet that night.
Only a few people were sprinkled at the counter and the tables, mostly couples who’d met up for a drink before bedtime. I kept looking at the clock and waiting for the night to end…even though I had nowhere to be.
When I had nothing to do, I sipped a hot cup of tea with a lemon wedge, resting my voice as much as possible. Singing at the theater and then talking to the customers at the bar strained my vocal cords.
It was just an hour before closing when a group of four men walked inside. I knew something was wrong because they weren’t the usual demographic of the patrons who came to this bar. They were all dressed in black—and they were older.
The man in front was Caspian.
“Shit…” My hand immediately reached for the bat hidden underneath the counter.
Caspian was dressed in a three-piece black suit, looking like he belonged somewhere much fancier than a small bar in downtown Florence. He smoothed out his vest as he came toward me, carrying himself just the way his son did. Age didn’t inhibit him or slow him down at all. He was still lethal.