murders me when I refuse to return his affection, it’s on you guys. It’s just... I neeeeed an outlet for my...temper.” The most adorable blush spread all the way to the collar of her shirt. “Yes. My temper. You heard Brook Lynn doing her best to provoke me, right? She’s a dirty, dirty cheater, and I can’t allow her to beat me.”
How much farther did that blush go? How hot did it burn?
Need for her, now sharper than razors, scraped at West’s chest. He gripped the arms of his chair in an effort to fight the desire to reach for her.
Just one touch...
The waitress arrived a second later, handing out plates piled high with a chicken-fried-steak burger, smothered with cheese and gravy, tater tots on the side. She was a new hire, and he’d interacted with her a grand total of four times, but she smiled at him as if they were the best of friends. Something she hadn’t done during his last three visits. He wondered if she’d looked him up and found out how much he was worth.
Wouldn’t be the first time.
“Thank you,” he muttered.
“You are so welcome, honey.”
“Get a room,” Jessie Kay said under her breath.
The waitress pretended not to hear and bent down to whisper into his ear, “You want to put in an order for dessert? We’re about to sell out of our world-famous brownie pie, but I’ll put one aside if you’d like...”
“Yes.” His gaze returned to Jessie Kay. “I suddenly have a craving for something sweet.”
“Well, then, maybe you’d like a side of me instead?” With a wink, the waitress sauntered away to help another table.
Jessie Kay took a bite of her burger. Her eyes closed, and she groaned the most rapturous sound of satisfaction. “Is this the best thing I’ve ever eaten? No.” She scooped up a dollop of gravy with the tip of her finger and sucked it into her mouth. “But try to take it away from me, and I will cold-bloodedly murder you.”
West had to fight a sudden grin, oddly charmed by her brashness. Unlike the waitress, he’d never had to wonder about her motives. She enjoyed what she enjoyed, disliked what she disliked, and wanted what she wanted. Very little else ever factored into her decisions.
“Try to take it away from her,” Brook Lynn whispered to Jase. “Help me win the bet. Please, please, please.”
Jase’s brows winged into the locks of hair hanging over his forehead. “Victory is more important than my life?”
“At this precise moment? Yes!”
The way they were together, leaning into each other, totally at ease, playful, flirty, assured of the other’s affections, made West envious. Made him miss Tessa more than usual—her laugh, the way she broke into song at random times and danced around the room. He more easily forgot the hard times, when she’d sunk into a deep depression and refused to eat or leave their bed.
Jessie Kay bumped her shoulder against his. “Hey. You never spoke up at the arena. You are paying for everything, right?”
“Right.”
She raised her arm, signaling the waitress. “I’m gonna need one of these to go.” She gave her sandwich a little wave. “Oh, and a dessert of my own. The brownie pie, to be exact. And don’t try to tell me you’re sold out. Bad things will happen.”
“But—”
She hiked her thumb in West’s direction. “Everything goes on his tab. He insisted.”
“Sure thing.” The waitress pursed her lips and hurried off.
“Happy place,” Brook Lynn muttered.
“What?” Jessie Kay gazed around the table. “What’d I do this time?”
Brook Lynn heaved a sigh. “Just because someone else is paying doesn’t mean you should order the lobster.”
Those bedroom blues brightened. “They have lobster?”
“Happy place. Happy place.”
Jessie Kay threw a tot at her sister. “Hey! I love you, and my lifelong goal is to show you just how much, but that’s not going to stop me from shaking your brain out of your ear if you don’t tell me whether or not they have lobster.”
“They do not.”
Jessie Kay’s shoulders hunched with disappointment, and West had to fight another grin. She might not like him for his money, but she sure wasn’t afraid to spend it. Strangely enough, he liked her more for it. She didn’t give a shit about his opinion of her. A singular experience.
The waitress reappeared, pouting at him. “Bad news. Because your sister demanded the last brownie pie, the only dessert we have left is the s’mores trifle. It’s really good though. That okay with you, gorgeous?”
“Sister?” Jessie Kay scowled. “Do I really look like his sister? I clearly come from grade-A stock while his ancestors made a few poor choices along the way.”
Singular creature. “Yes,” he told the waitress. “I’ll take the s’mores trifle, but make sure you add extra marshmallows.”
* * *
THE NEXT WEEK flew by, with only a few necessary adjustments to West’s schedule. Adjustments he made only because he’d found his next relationship. Monica Gentry, owner of Bodies by Monica.
She’d shown up at WOH Industries on Wednesday, hoping to hire him to film her first workout video, not realizing he only created computer programs, video games and animated commercials. They’d had lunch instead.
He’d found something familiar about her, but when he’d looked her up later that night, he’d realized he knew nothing about her. What he learned: A handful of her former employees hated her. They’d posted scathing reviews about her leadership style, calling her intense and neurotic. But who wasn’t neurotic?
And really, she’d had to be fierce to build her gym franchise from the ground up. A feat he admired. He and Beck had had to claw their way over, under and through wall after wall of rejection; but all the while West had continued creating games and programs and Beck had continued making calls and pitches, going door-to-door until Dane Michaelson of MG&E paid millions for exclusive rights to his flow software, a program tracking oil and natural gas from the ground to its buyer. Not only had the deal put WOH Industries in the crosshairs of other business, but Dane had become a close friend, even introducing West to Strawberry Valley, his hometown, which had led West to introduce Jase to the town when the desire to move struck.
West glanced at the clock on his nightstand. 7:59 a.m. Beck’s wedding was set to take place in three hours, one minute.
He stood, made his bed, then showered for ten minutes, towel-dried for two, shaved for another ten and when he dressed, he ditched the usual Saturday-morning soccer gear in favor of a tux.
He’d never thought this day would come and once upon a time he would have bet the bulk of his fortune Beck would remain forever single. Enter Harlow. The black-haired beauty had obsessed the
