Page 76 of Hard to Hold

“Yeah.”

“I can’t say that I’ve seen that side of him yet,” I say.

“Are we talking about the same man, Lenn? The man slept with another man’s wife. His teammate’s no less. And then rather than face the music, he ran to LA where it’s sun, relaxation, and no doubt other brainless bimbos to screw.”

I bristle at the comment and hope it doesn’t show on my face. “Yes, I forgot. You’ve been perfect in all of your dating exploits, huh?” I say with a tinge of sarcasm and leave the comment hanging there as my sister shifts in her chair. She opens her mouth and then closes it.

“Don’t you dare explain away that it was different,” I say.

“It was. I mean—there were things people didn’t know about our situation.”

“Exactly,” I say pointing my finger at the screen. “And we don’t know the whole story about Rush and Esme’s either.”

“His silence is deafening, though.”

We stare at each for a beat as I nod in agreement. “Hey Brex?”

“What?”

“Never mind.” I shake my head and play it off.

“No. Tell me.”

“It’s just . . . have you ever done something for all the wrong reasons only to wonder if they were right all along?”

“Should I ask you what in the hell you mean by that or should I just nod, tell you I love you, and that I’m sick of you being that far away from me?”

I smile. “The latter. Definitely the latter.”

“Have a good day, Lenn. I miss you regardless of what you think . . . and we love you.”

“Love you too.”

“And good luck.”

I stare at the darkened screen when the connection ends and think of everything she said to me. She’s right. Don’t fuck with the clients.

But what if I already have?

What if—

“She’s right, you know.”

I yelp and almost fall back in my chair when I hear Rush’s voice. “You’re here. You’re home. I didn’t hear you come in.” The words tumble out a million miles an hour.

“I am.” His grin is wide as he watches me fumble with the pen in my hand and wonder how much he heard.

“She’s right about what?” I ask as he moves into the kitchen, running shorts on and chest misted with sweat as it still labors for breath from his run. How stupid is it that the mere sight of him has that ache building between my thighs?

“All of it.” He leans his hips against the kitchen island. “That I’m a bastard. That I’m selfish. That I’m not an easy client to deal with.”

I angle my head and meet the truth in his eyes. “Nah. I think that’s what you want people to see, to believe, because that protects them from getting close to everything you hold dear.”

He looks out the window for a moment and I wonder if he’s going to refute me, but the fact that he doesn’t tells me I might be right in my assessment.

The man is an enigma. Every time you get too close, he shifts focus elsewhere. Normally I’m fine with this because the less I know, the better.

But there’s something about him that makes me want to know more. There’s been something about him from the first moment I laid eyes on him that won’t allow me to let it go.