Page 73 of Hot Nights in Morocco
Brad puts a possessive arm around my shoulders and I want to bury my head into his Thor-like chest and weep. He seems to sense my despair because I hear him calling out for “five” before whisking me off in the direction of the nearest coffee chain.
He slams a hot chocolate with extra marshmallows and whipped cream down on the table in front of me. “I told you not to get too close to him, Charlie. I fucking warned you.”
One of my tiny pink marshmallows is plummeting down the outside of the mug in a suicidal trail of chocolate goo.
“How did you guess?” I ask quietly.
“Saw it happening a mile off.” Brad whips off his black baseball cap and pins me with his indigo eyes. His scruffy blond hair cascades around his face and he slicks it back in one easy movement. “What did that son of a bitch do?”
“The works. Turns out we’re not very compatible.”
“Well, I figured that out for myself. Not many women are good enough for narcissistic assholes. Fuck ’em and forget ’em, that’s more his style.” Brad studies my face for a moment. “Gee, he really hurt you, didn’t he?”
“I like to think we hurt each other.”
Brad doesn’t look convinced. “You sure about that? Jake’s impenetrable. You, on the other hand, look freaking terrible.”
“No, I don’t!” I’m just about surviving a breakup with the hottest man on the planet. To be simultaneously insulted by his runner-up is really pushing it. “Anyway, I’ve had the flu. I’ve been in bed all week.”
Brad smirks.
“I have!” I glare at him until the smirk breaks into a grin and I find myself holding my breath. I can see Jake’s features in his jawline and cheekbones.How did I not notice that before?I take a sip of my hot chocolate, but the remaining marshmallows have melted together to form a mushy clump that’s impossible to breach. I put the mug back down on the table. “Why didn’t you tell me Jake was your brother?”
Brad shrugs. “I thought you knew.”
“Jake chose not to share that particular detail with me. Along with countless others.”
“He was like that with Cassie, too. Drove her nuts.”
“Are they back together?”
Brad shrugs. “Probably. Those two have history. Did you know she was my girl first? We dated for a year before I walked in on her and Jake.”
My hand flies out in shock and catches the mug in front of me. Torrents of hot chocolate start spilling all over the table. “Oh, God,” I wail, diving for the napkins. “Did you ever suspect them?”
“Nope. Never. That’s the thing about Jake. He’s so eaten up on the inside that he can’t see the damage he—”
“Excuse me, Mr. Wilson?” A member of Brad’s North Face army has popped up next to our table. He’s fidgeting nervously with his hands, as though Brad’s an unpredictable animal who is liable to chew his head off and spit out his brains at any moment. “We’re ready whenever you are, sir.”
Brad dismisses him with a flick of his wrist. “I gotta run. It was good seeing you.” He stands to leave and then sits back down again. “Listen, honey, I know this is too soon after everything that’s happened, but the way I see it, you’ve gotta eat. I know a great place in Chelsea. I can pour the wine and you can bitch about Jake. What d’ya say?”
Brad’s right. It’s far too soon. But my ego is so bruised and he’s gazing at me so expectantly that it’s impossible to resist.
I find myself accepting before I have a chance to say no.
Chapter Forty-One
“You’re going on awhat?”
Lucy is standing in the doorway of our living room with her hands on her hips. She really has the whole outraged friend thing down to a fine art these days.
“A date,” I say, stabbing my lips with gloss in front of the hallway mirror. I knew she was going to kick off about this.
“A date with whom?”
“Jake’s half-brother,” I venture, half sheepish half defiant.
“You’re unbelievable! And you don’t sound nearly as weirded out by that as you should.”
