I shift on my feet and straighten my hair.

  His broad smile fills me with happiness. “We just opened an office here. I’m in town for a few weeks making sure everything gets off the ground.” He pauses, running his eyes over me. “It’s good to see you.”

  I smile, gently punching him in the arm. “It’s good to see you, too, Tug.”

  He smiles back. It’s a concerned smile, though, one I hate to see. “How are you?”

  I shrug. “Good.”

  “Hmm…I know that pout. You’re far from good.” He tips my chin up to look at him. “Listen, I’m late for this lunch meeting already. Are you free for dinner?”

  I consider telling him “I’d rather eats slugs than go out with you,” but I hold it back. That was the old Tori. “I don’t know, Tug…I…” I have no idea what I’m trying to say. I’d love nothing more that to spend some time with him. I want to hear him laugh. I love Tug’s laugh.

  “It’s just dinner.” He taps my nose once. “I’d love to catch up. I’ve missed you.”

  My heart soars with happiness. “I’ve missed you, too.”

  “Good, then it’s settled.” He winks at me. “I’ll pick you up at six.” He turns and walks away.

  “Wait!” I yell out to him. He turns around to face me. “You don’t know where I live.”

  “Six,” he repeats with a smile. He turns back and disappears into the restaurant.

  Brady

  I’ve had Andrew for three days without a word from Annabelle. She finally texted me that she would be here to pick him up this evening. At midnight she had the audacity to show up drunk and want to take him home. After informing her that he was asleep, I offered to let her sleep here so she wouldn’t drive drunk.

  I sort through Andrew’s laundry, folding tiny shorts and T-shirts as I ponder my earlier conversation with Liv. She suggested I rectify my and Annabelle’s current custody situation with a court-ordered visitation setup. I’ve thought about it, but have avoided bringing it up to Annabelle. I don’t want to fight with her, but I’m starting to understand Andrew needs some kind of routine and structure in his life.

  “You got a minute?” Annabelle walks into my room without knocking. She saunters toward me, staggering a little. She wears a look I’ve seen way too often lately, a look of seduction. It’s desperate. I almost feel sorry for her. I’ve tried everything to convince her we’re never going to be together. Tonight I need to spell it out clearly for her. My gaze travels from her cake-faced makeup to her hooker skirt. I’m sure she thinks it’s sexy. It’s trashy.

  I put my hand up before she reaches me. “Don’t!”

  She stops in her tracks, trying hard to look hurt, but I know it’s fake. “She’s never coming back.”

  My eyes narrow at her. “Don’t talk about her,” I snap, turning away from her.

  She pulls on my arm until I spin to face her. “She’s not, and Andrew deserves two parents.”

  My body tenses as my nerve endings spark. “Don’t you fucking dare use him to try to fuck me, Annabelle. This is not a game. He’s not a pawn.”

  Her lips press flat as her eyes shift to the floor. “I only want what’s best for him.”

  “I do, too, and I don’t think our fucking has anything to do with that.”

  She’s unaffected by my harsh words. “Can’t you at least try?” Her hand brushes across my chest. “We could be really good together, Brady.”

  “It’s not going to happen, Annabelle.” I remove her hand from my chest, and take a step back. “I love my son. You and I are friends, but the more you push me, the less I even want that.”

  “Oh, come on.” She moves closer, grabbing for my hand.

  I jerk it away and scowl at her, then decide to drop the bombshell I’ve been avoiding. “We need to discuss a custody arrangement for Andrew.”

  She recoils, looking shocked. “What we have works for me.”

  I shake my head. “It’s not good for him.”

  “It’s fine!”

  “It’s not fine.” Her eyes widen as my voice rises until I’m shouting. “It’s confusing for him to be tossed about between us on whatever day of the week you feel like.”

  “Whatever.” Her eyes roll as she smiles indignantly. “You’re just turning this around on me to avoiding talking about Tori.”

  “No, what I’m doing is discussing our son. The only thing I’m obligated to talk to you about. My personal life is none of your goddamn business.” Now I’m really pissed, my anger soaring to new heights. I step close to her, hoping she feels the anger oozing out of me, takes a hint. Her body goes rigid. “Your showing up here tonight drunk only solidifies my doubts about how we’re parenting him. Did you really think it was okay to pack him up and drive home in your condition?” I’m only getting started. “And where the hell have you been for three days?” My surging anger can’t be held back. I’m screaming at her. “What the fuck kind of mother leaves her kids for three days without even so much as a phone call?”

  “I’m sorry!” she shouts back, tears springing free from her eyes. Finally, some genuine emotion from this woman. “I’m sorry, okay. I never wanted a kid.”

  I let out a disgusted breath of air. That’s her excuse. “So that makes it right?”

  “No.” Her gaze turns away from me. At least she feels shame. “He was with you. I knew he was safe.”

  I throw up my hands, irritated beyond belief. “That’s not the point, though, Ann.”

  “I know. I’m sorry, Brady. I don’t know what I’m doing. The kid didn’t come with a manual. Sometimes I just feel trapped.”

  My eyes flick up to her face. Her remorseful expression tamps my anger a little. “I understand.” I want to continue to rip her and tell her to wake up and face her responsibilities, but I can see she’s defeated. I don’t know where she’s been for the last three days, but it’s obviously drained her. She looks like she’s ready to drop. “Come here.”

  She walks into my arms. I hug her, for now. Tomorrow, when she’s sober and rested, we’ll discuss this again. Andrew’s security is not optional.

  “Thanks.” Her voice is weak. She lets go of me and sits on the bed.

  I sit next to her and pat her knee. “What do you want to do with your life?”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I’ve thought about going to nursing school.”

  “So do it.” She looks at me like I’m an idiot. I realize she probably doesn’t have the money for nursing school. “I’ll pay for it.”

  Her head snaps to look at me. “You will?”

  “Absolutely,” I answer instantly. “You’re the mother of my child. If you agree to buckle down and quit partying, I’ll help you, even get you an apartment.” Wanting the best for Andrew means providing for his mother. I know that, and I’m willing to help her in any way I can. I know she wants more, but it will never happen. This is as much as I can offer.

  Her gaze drops to her lap, watching her fingers twine nervously together. “I don’t know what to say.”

  I pull her arm, lifting her from the bed. “Let’s get you to bed. We can talk tomorrow.” I walk her down the hall to the extra room. She sits on the bed, peering up at me, her makeup running down her cheeks. “I love him.”

  “I know you do.” I reach down and remove her shoes before tucking her into bed.

  Chapter 21

  Tori

  Tug shows up a few minutes before six. I open the door and feel my jaw start to drop. I snap it closed. Tug doesn’t look cute or adorable. He looks handsome, and fuckable. Oh, my God. I can’t even believe I just thought that. It’s so wrong, but Tug is hot. He’s in a black suit that fits his tall, lean frame exquisitely. His crisp white dress shirt is unbuttoned at the top without a tie. My eyes work along his square jaw. I look away. It’s Tug. I shouldn’t be having dirty thoughts about him.

  My mother greets him with a hug and a kiss. “It’s so good to see you, Aidan,” she coos adoringly at him. She’ll never call him Tug. “I was thrilled when Tori said you were in town.” Her head nods in my direction. “She’s driving her dad and me nuts. She needs to get out.”

  “Mom!” I admonish her.

  Tug laughs, almost agreeing.

  “What?” she says sheepishly.

  “Hello, Mr. Preston.” Tug greets my father with a friendly handshake.

  My dad’s chest puffs out. I nearly laugh. I don’t think he needs to send silent warnings to Tug. He’s not here to steal his daughter’s virtue. “How are you, son?” Even his voice deepens in warning.

  Tug nods. “I’m well, thank you.”

  “Are you enjoying Minnesota?” my father asks, his shoulders relaxing slightly.

  “It’s all right. I tell you, though, the mosquitoes you have here could carry a small child away.”

  My dad chuckles and relaxes completely. “You got that right. I wish they’d carry away the damn raccoons. They keep getting into the garbage.”

  “I told you to put the barrel in the garage.” My mom smiles at Tug, jabbing a thumb at my father. “Thick, that one.”

  Tug laughs politely, although I’m sure he’s not interested in listening to my parents bicker about their wildlife problem.

  “Shall we go?” I grab Tug’s arm, yanking him toward the door. “I’m not sure what time I’ll be home.”

  “It was nice seeing you both again.” Tug nods to my parents.

  “Thank you, Aidan.” My mother actually squeezes his cheeks. “Such a sweet boy.”

  Poor Tug flames red. He kisses my mother’s cheek and shakes my father’s hand again before I practically yank him through the door.

  ***

  Tug and I have dinner in the restaurant of his hotel. We laugh and talk about his business dealings. He tells me about his plans to expand Gibson Capital globally. He brags about takeovers and mergers. He’s a shark. There’s darkness behind his eyes when he talks about it. I hate that it’s there. It scares me a little. Some of the things he says shock me. He’s detached from his customers and his clients. I guess he has to be. He can’t be emotionally involved when he’s taking a company out from under someone. He steers clear of any “Brady” conversation, which I’m grateful for. We share a bottle of wine and a divine chocolate cake. I’m stuffed, and my belly hurts from laughing. Thinking on it, the moments in my life when I’ve laughed the most have been with Tug.

  He’s different now, more mature, but he’s still capable of brightening up my worst day. Under that gruff businessman façade is my Tuggy. I love that I can bring him out.

  After dinner, Tug offers to take me home. I’m not ready to go yet and suggest a few drinks at the bar. Truthfully, I’m not ready to let him go yet. This is the happiest I’ve felt in ages. When we sit at the bar, Tug orders two shots of Blue Sapphire. There’s a sneakiness behind his smile that worries me. “Gin’ll make you sin.”

  I feel the flush in my cheeks at his crassness. Does he expect something to happen here? My cheeks burn feverishly. My lips part to say something.

  Tug stops me. “Don’t get your panties in a bunch, Tor. It was a joke.”

  Oh. I relax with a smile, feeling the relief wash over me. The bartender sets the shots down in front of us. Tug picks his up and holds it in the air. I follow and lift my glass, shooting him a puzzled look. “Here’s to new beginnings for you. I hope you find the happiness you’re looking for.”

  I’m at a loss for a proper response. I toss the shot back, screwing up my face as the alcohol burns my throat. Tug orders two more shots and tells the bartender to leave the bottle. I grab one of the shots, hold it in the air, and say, “Here’s to friendship.” I swallow the shot down and wait for Tug. He watches me with amusement before tossing his back. I want know what he’s thinking. I smile awkwardly and turn my head.

  Tug throws a hundred bucks on the bar and picks up the bottle of gin. With his free hand, he helps me from the stool. “Come on.”

  “Where are we going?” I’m giggling as he drags me behind him. The effects from the alcohol make me feel like I could float away.

  “To my room.”

  There’s something alarming in his tone that freezes me in place. I nearly fall over as Tug keeps pulling. He spins to face me.

  “What?” Is he delusional? I just toasted our friendship.

  He smiles mischievously. Oh, no. He does think there’s more going on here than friendship. Did I mislead him? I’m trying to think of what I might have said or done when Tug says, “I’ve been practicing.” His face lights up like a kid on Christmas morning.

  Ew! Practicing? I fight off the pictures of Tug “practicing” that are forcing their way into my brain. My nose scrunches together and I shake my head. God, please make it stop!

  Tug burst into a fit of laughter as he releases my hand. “Oh, shit!” He points at me. “You thought I meant sex.” He tries to continue, but he’s laughing so hard the words don’t thread together clearly. This makes me start laughing hysterically. My eyes water as I watch Tug’s red face while he tries to compose himself.

  “Poker, pretty girl,” he finally manages to tell me before grabbing my hand and walking toward the elevators. “I think I can finally beat you.”

  Oh. God, I feel so stupid. He starts to walk but then turns to face me again. I don’t notice and smack right into his chest. When I look up, I see the darkness in his eyes, like it was when he talked about his work. “When it comes to sex, I’m an expert.”

  I shiver runs ups my spine to the nape of my neck. My knees are wobbling so violently, I’m not certain if I can walk. I watch as he strides confidently to the elevator. I can’t believe he said that. I’m not sure I know Tug at all anymore. It’s as though the day his mother shot herself he morphed into a man – a slightly terrifying man – that for some reason, I’m suddenly attracted to. This is so wrong. I can’t feel like that about him. I shake my thoughts away and follow him.

  Tug’s suite is enormous, with more crystal and glass than our drunk asses should be around. One wall is nothing but windows overlooking the lake. There’s a full-size dining room table with leather high-back chairs. On the other side of the room is a living area with white streamlined sofas and chairs. A large flat-screen hangs against the wall. I turn to see him watching me with his arms over his chest.

  “Are you staying here with other people?”

  He lifts an eyebrow questioningly. “Nope…just me.” He strides over and stands next to me.

  “Why do you need such a big room?”

  He shrugs. “Tax write-off.”

  “Shut up!” I smack him playfully on the arm, feeling a little tipsy.

  “Come!” he orders before walking over to the windows.

  “You’ve become quite bossy, you know that?” I follow him to an open area in front of the windows.

  He spins to face me. His dark gaze sends another shiver through me. I don’t know why. I wish it would quit happening. “You have no idea, pretty girl. Now sit!”

  I laugh. For some twisted reason, I kind of like bossy Tug.

  We sit down on the floor. Tug sets the bottle of gin and two shot glasses on the floor next to him.

  “Okay.” He grins and waggles his eyebrows. I may like bossy Tug, but I adore playful Tug. “Here are the rules.” He lines up the shot glasses and fills each of them with gin. “I lose the hand, I drink. You lose, and you drink.”

  “Are you sure?” I poke him in the chest. He grabs my finger and bites it gently before pushing it way. I laugh. “You do remember that you have never beaten me?”

  “Oh, I’m sure.” He grins devilishly. It makes me wonder how much he’s been practicing.

  Tug and I throw back a “just because” shot. I feel surprisingly relaxed. I haven’t felt this good in so long. I forgot what it feels like to be young and free. It’s been since way before Mona was born that I’ve felt like the nearly twenty-two-year-old I am. Between my thoughts and the cards being dealt, my mind drifts back to the beach, the night everything changed for Brady and me. Brady taught me to play poker. That night, I beat him for the first time. I was elated, and then it all went to shit. Harrison spilled Brady’s secrets, and Brady ran. We got through all of it, though, and up until losing Mona, I thought we could get past anything. I shake away my thoughts when Tug pipes up,

  “Oh, pretty girl. You ready to lose your ass?”

  I laugh and pick up my cards. Mr. Confident is evidently here to stay. I glance over the top of my cards, looking at Tug. He has all five cards in his hands. “You’re keeping yours?” I ask, watching his face for any signs of a tell. There’s nothing.

  “Oh, yeah!” He nods, basking in his hand.

  “All right. I am, too.” I wink and stick my tongue out at him. “What do you have?”

  “Three queens.” His smile is so full of triumph, I almost consider not laying my hand down.

  Almost.

  “Four kings.” I gloat as I lay each card down one at time.

  “Gah, woman! How do you do that?”

  I shrug with a giggle. “Drink.”

  After we exchange a few hands, the affects of the alcohol are really sinking in. I’m feeling no pain. I think it’s time to shake things up a bit. It’s probably a stupid idea, but I love how carefree being with him feels.

  “Okay, new game, Tuggy.” My words only slur a little. He raises an eyebrow at my calling him Tuggy. I’m sure it dissolves his newfound masculinity. I don’t care if it bruises his ego. It’s who he’ll always be to me. “To make this interesting, I say loser drinks and removes a piece of clothing.”

  His response is instant. “Deal!”

  I laugh.

  I lose the first hand, toss the drink back and then nearly choke when I realize I only have on four pieces of clothing, two of which are undergarments. I didn’t think this over very well before opening my mouth. I clearly am not thinking at all, since I’m alone in a hotel room playing drunk strip poker with the new Tug. But I’m having a blast. Fuck it! Tug is staring at me with a smug-as-can-be-grin. His eyes roam over my breasts. I hear his heavy breaths.

  “You made up the game, sweet girl.” He motions to my shirt with his index finger. “Off.”

 

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