Page 20 of Best Man Speaking

Julian:How exactly is he going to make you pay for it?

On my back, I think.

Hallie:Emotional torture.

Julian:I doubt that’ll be the case.

Hallie:But you’re not certain?

There isn’t an instant response, simply three little dots flickering and then disappearing.

Hallie:Jules, does Marcus even know I’m staying here?

Julian:Not exactly…

Hallie:Explain it to me.

Julian:I had the spare keys and now you do? :)

Hallie:Not that I’m against ruining your brother’s day, but are you going to tell him I’m staying here?!

Julian:I called. He didn’t answer. I left a message.

Julian:Hal, it’s a great idea, really. The place is beautiful, Erica and I can be around a lot, and it’s free. Save your pennies for more important things.

Hallie:Like for all the extra therapy I’m going to need?

Julian:Exactly.

I look up from my phone to the patiently waiting Erica, who’s been smart enough to stay out of the thread.

“I’m going to kill him,” I groan.

Honestly, I’m not sure which one of the Scott brothers I’m referring to at this point.

Chapter Six

Marcus

Hallie Cairns. Hallie Cairns. Hallie Cairns.

Since opening my eyes this morning, my mind had been unable to provide me with anything other than her name and face on repeat. The way her hair brushed against the smooth skin of her back, the dark red of her lips, and the way her blue, almond-shaped eyes narrowed on me before a verbal attack. Just the thought of her makes me hard. The reality of her in person after nearly a decade is more than I can handle.

Eight years.

Eight years since she’d looked at me like I was everything, and the same amount of time since she’d decided she never wanted to see me again.

Seeing Hallie last night had been a surprise, one I’d made the most of. This morning, it was as if she’d stepped directly from my dreams. No matter who we’d been in our past, no matter what we’d been to one another, it was nice to know she still traded in our brand of sarcasm, and she could still take it as well as she dished it out. Julian might’ve disapproved—hell, he’dalways disapproved—but sharp words had been our foreplay of choice, even before we’d known what foreplay was.

This time, though, it’s different, our verbal sparring no longer based in flirtation but in her long-standing resentment.

Sadly, my body doesn’t seem to know the difference.

My business is my life. The charity I’d created might be separate from it in some ways, but in my mind, they are inextricably connected. I live and breathe for them, yet today, just a week into my largest contract to date, my brain refused to get with the program. Instead of being anywhere near helpful, the organ was infused with lust, frustration, and just a hint of guilt.

I picked up my laptop, made my excuses, and left my on-site office. My staff had no way of knowing my only plan was to go home and jerk off until my mind was blank and potentially useful again.

Crude but true.

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