Page 71 of Worth the Fall
THOMAS
I’d made good on my promise to Brooklyn and not ignored her or avoided her at work since the other night. What I had done, however, was keep all contact professional and pretend like I’d never kissed her lips, even though it replayed in my mind a thousand times a day. I wondered if it was killing her the same way that it was killing me.
If it was, she didn’t fucking act like it. She walked around the resort like absolutely nothing had changed, greeting me with a megawatt smile before heading back into her office, that ass of hers shaking the whole time, like she knew I was watching.
She probably did.
My phone rang at my desk, and I glanced at it, noticing that it was my dad’s office line calling. My assistant answered and put him on hold before I shouted to her that I had it.
Pressing the flashing button, I answered, “Hey, Dad.”
“Meet me in my office,” he said, his tone a little undecipherable.
“Be right down.” I hung up.
When I stepped into the hallway, I practically bowled over Brooklyn.
“Oh, Thomas. Sorry.”
My eyes shot to hers, the look in them unmistakable. She still wanted me. But wanting each other wasn’t the problem.
“It was my fault,” I said.
“It kind of was,” she agreed with a grin, that smart-ass mouth delivering barbs, like usual.
I tried to maneuver around her right as she tried to move around me. We ended up going in the same direction, still blocking one another’s paths. A laugh escaped from somewhere deep in me as I stopped and extended my hand.
“Ladies first,” I said, trying to be chivalrous, but it came out sounding like I was some douche onThe Bachelor.
“Thanks.” She glanced back at me, and I could tell she wanted to say more. Her lips pursed together before she added, “Tell Clara happy Halloween for me. And to keep all the good candy for herself.”
I should ask her to join us. Beg her to come. The words were on the tip of my tongue, but I bit them back instead. The battle between wanting her with us all the time and giving her the space she so clearly needed warred inside me.
“I’ll tell her,” I said as she started to walk away, and I stood there, gaping after her like some lovesick fool.
It was torture to realize how badly I wanted more than friendship with this woman. I wanted it all with her. But she’d made it pretty obvious that she still wasn’t healed from her marriage ending. She struggled with guilt and blame, and I was all too familiar with how destructive those feelings could be inside your own head. They weren’t something that I could fuck right out of her system, even though I’d considered trying.
Lifting her off my lap when I’d wanted to bury myself inside of her was a test in willpower I wasn’t sure I’d survive at the time. It’d almost killed me to move her away.
But I couldn’t sleep with her and then carry on like nothing had happened. Or pretend like I was fine with being friends with benefits or some shit like that. Because I wasn’t. And I never would be. Plus, Clara and I deserved more than someone who could come and go in and out of our lives like the wind. I’d been careless to let her into our world without knowing what she was ready for. I should have guessed that since she’d just gotten out of a relationship, she wouldn’t want to hop straight into another one.
But then again, I’d fallen without realizing it or meaning to. There’d been no hope for me when it came to this woman. My daughter was attached. I was attached. And now, I had to do my best to pretend like I was perfectly fine with just being friends with her when the reality was that I could see my whole damn future every time I looked in her eyes.
Shaking my head to clear the battle raging within, I started toward my dad’s office. Brooklyn was in the reception area, talking to our concierge about something. She turned her head, as if sensing me. And when her green eyes locked on to mine, I wanted to believe that she saw a future when she looked at me too. But I couldn’t risk being wrong about that. Not when my heart wasn’t the only one on the line.
Putting my head down, I broke our eye contact and walked to my dad’s office. I knocked on the already-open door, and his head shot up. He waved me in and motioned for me to shut the door behind me.
“Come here,” he said.
I walked to where he sat behind the desk where his father had sat before him.
When I stood behind him, he pointed at his computer screen, and I saw a paused oversize image of me at the saloon. Apparently, that damn video had circulated all over Sugar Mountain.
“I’ve watched this thing ten times already,” he said with a laugh before pressing play and making me watch it with him one more time. Then, he turned to give me a fist pound.
I’d never in my life given my dad a fist pound. I wasn’t even sure where he’d learned it.
It was surreal. And weird.