Page 47 of Kane

“What?” his friend asked innocently. “I can’t help it if you can relate to the idea of carrying a torch for someone. Even when it’s a bad idea.” Brick rubbed at his jaw thoughtfully. “On a totally unrelated note, have you seen Amanda Griffin around lately?’

“Fuck you, brother.” There was no heat in his curse, only grim acceptance. Brick saw right through his protests about Mandy, but it seemed everyone else did too. “Does everybody know?”

Taking a sip of the Gatorade he had pulled from the ice chest near the wall, Brick looked up at the ceiling, clearly weighing his words. He swallowed, then sighed. “Yeah. But nobody is judging you about it. We’ve all got soft spots that hurt when you poke ‘em. She’s yours. No shame there.”

Kane’s phone buzzed, saving him from having to find an answer.

“Speak of the devil,” he murmured.

A text lit his screen.

I need to talk to you. It’s important. Meet me at my apartment.

-A

No address, but then again, he knew exactly where she lived. He knew what kind of car she drove. What men she attended events with, splashed across the online society pages. Not that he ever Googled her.

He shoved his phone back in his pocket. “I’ve got to go. You cool to finish up here?”

“Yeah. No problem.” Brick grabbed his arm, then let it go. “You call me if you need anything.”

He was out the door and on his bike before he realized he hadn’t even answered his friend. Mandy called, he came running. She was his soft-spot all right.

His first love. Hisonlylove.

The only woman who made his heart race, his blood boil.

Even after all these years, he still treasured the memories of every kiss, every touch, and the promise of a future they never ended up having.

***

13 years ago

July

Kane flitted a nervous glance around the room he’d rented at the Hampton Inn. It was nicer than anywhere he’d ever slept before, and he’d skipped lunch every day for a month to save up the money to pay for it.

No doubt Mandy had slept in better places. Hell, her room at her dad’s house was probably classier than this, but deep down he knew she wouldn’t care. She’d never judged him for how much money he had or what he could spend on her. Still, he wanted to give her the best of everything. She deserved all the finest things, and one day, when he was a successful investment banker, he’d give them all to her.

Tonight, he’d have to settle for the king-sized bed he had covered in rose petals, soft music from a playlist on his iPod, and a bottle of white zinfandel. He didn’t know anything about wine, but the lady at the store had told him it was good.

“Can I open my eyes now?” Mandy squeezed his hand, pulling him back into the moment.

He leaned down and brushed his lips over hers, breathing in the subtle smell of lavender. She hummed softly against him.

Taking a step back, he moved out of her line of sight. “Yes.”

Her eyes flew open, and she took in the scene. She blinked rapidly.

Dread pooled in his stomach.

Had he read her wrong? Was it too soon?

Obviously, she had to have some idea where they were when he’d led her through the lobby and into the elevator, even with her eyes closed, but still, maybe his attempts at a romantic set-up were a bust. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, sweetheart. I would be happy to just spend the night with you in my arms.” The sad thing was, he meant every word.

“Are you kidding? This is perfect. I love it.” She bit her bottom lip. “Did you bring—”

“Condoms?” He grinned. “Two boxes.”