Page 33 of Conflict
Shane,
I know you wanted me to be here when you returned. Hell, I wanted to be here. But as incredible as the past two days were, I can’t throw away everything I’ve worked so hard to build for a fling. Maybe I’m being ridiculous. Maybe not. But as long as our companies are competing for this contract, I have to keep my distance. Please, respect me by keeping yours as well. I hope we’ll see each other again when all this over. If not, I’ll always have fond memories of dolphins, sunshine, and…well, you.
Alyssa
The words blur as I toss back another scotch, enjoying the burning in my chest. It’s been a long, damn six months since Alyssa came into my life. Six months since she so quickly disappeared from it. We live in the same damn city, yet I still can’t go to her.
Sure, Atlanta’s big enough, but… like she said, I have to respect her wishes. Or at least, I’ve made myself respect them up until now. I never thought Filiatrault would be dragging his heels for so long. When I’d first read her note, I was disappointed, but I also knew that as soon as the irritating man signed on the dotted line, I’d be in her office, asking her out.
The line remains unsigned, and my cock couldn’t be more pissed about it.
“A little early to be drinking on the job, isn’t it?”
My cousin’s rough voice takes me out of my thoughts. He throws a file onto my desk and moves to the decanter on the side of the room, pouring himself his own before sitting across from me.
He sips the amber liquid, and if the burn affects him, he doesn’t show it. “Ah. Liquid heaven.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Didn’t you just say it was too early to be drinking?”
Branson grins at me, and it’s…uncanny. I can’t remember the last time Branson smiled. “I couldn’t let you drink alone, now could I? How uncharitable do you think I am?”
“You’re right. What was I thinking? Have the nuns dedicated an abbey in your name yet?”
He shudders. “I still have nightmares about rulers thanks to Sister Mary Therese. Thank you so much for bringing it up.”
“Least I could do for my favorite cousin.”
He scoffs.
“Now tell me, Branson. To what do I owe this extreme pleasure? You rarely venture out of Nashville unless you have no choice. So what is it my uncle wants me to do now?”
He grins. “You’re too smart to be a Wellington. Are you sure you’re not some other man’s bastard?”
I glance at the framed photograph of my parents, who are grossly in love. I’m the spitting image of my dad, who’s been hounding me more for a grandchild than my own mom. As I’m nearing thirty-one, I’ve only heard that it’s time to settle down and start a family of my own two hundred or so times in the last year.
“If my mother ever heard you say that, she’d whip you,” I remind him before taking a sip of my drink.
Branson was right. Liquid heaven indeed, especially when one’s cock has been so neglected.
That thought gives me an idea. I haven’t wanted anyone since the night Alyssa and I spent together. I haven’t even spent time looking for anyone I might’ve wanted. That ends tonight. No more moping. No more sulking. If fate wanted me to find Alyssa, it would’ve done so by now. Hell, she knows my name. She knows where I live and work. IfAlyssawanted to find me, she’d have done so. Might as well forget the best night of my life and start searching for one to replace it.
Never gonna happen.
I push the thought into the recesses of my mind. “Forget it. I don’t give a damn why you’re here. I’m just glad you are. I’m in a dry spell and I need to go the fuck out and get laid.”
“A dry spell? Do tell, Shane,” he says, leaning forward.
For some reason, I find myself wanting to tell someone about her, after all this time. And who better than Branson, who’s been seeking his own angel since last December? In fact, the only reason I’ve kept this from him in the first place is so he didn’t feel guilty for pulling me away.
“I met a girl,” I say simply, as if those four words explain everything.
“Succinct. I like the way you get straight to the point. So this girl. Let me see. She’s a virgin and saving herself for marriage, hence the dry spell?”
I roll my eyes.
“Of course, of course. You’re too smart to fall for a gold-digging bunny. If only you’d passed those smarts on to me,” he says, raising his glass.
We toast to what I’m guessing is his divorce from said gold-digging bunny.
