Billionaire's Unexpected Bride (Slade Brothers Book 1) Page 9

  “Then you really don’t even know if she ended up getting pregnant or not.” I stand up, holding my arms out at my sides as I look down at him.

  He looks up at me but doesn’t bother standing. “There was no pregnancy. This letter is nothing but garbage.” The way he says the words makes me feel as if he truly believes them himself. His voice is deep and even.

  “So you didn’t pay her off?”

  His lips press together in a thin line as he thinks it over. He nods once. “I did give her money at one point, but it wasn’t because a child was involved. She was hurt when she realized we’d never marry, even after your mother’s passing. She couldn’t bear to look at me. She told me she was quitting—it was the only way to move on—but then a week or so later, she met me in the parking lot late one night as I was leaving work. She asked for some money to leave town.”

  “And that’s it. You just gave her some money out of the goodness of your heart, right?”

  He chuckles. “Not exactly. She threatened to spill our secret—to tell your mother about my infidelity. You mom was sick and dying, and I didn’t want her to worry about unnecessary things, so I gave Linda what she wanted. She left and I’ve never talked of her since. Until now, that is.”

  I shake my head, wondering how the hell he could be so naive. He really thought she just wanted money to keep quiet. He never thought there could be a deeper reason for wanting the money?

  Either way, I know I’m not going to get what I’m looking for here. He’s not going to confess all of his sins to me. He’s not even sorry for betraying my mother. I climb back into my truck without another word. I toss the paper and picture into the passenger seat and twist the key. The loudness of the motor cuts through the silence like a sharp knife. As I turn the truck around, I check out my father in the mirror. He’s still sitting in that chair, sipping his drink. He’s staring at the land in front of him; he refuses to look at me or my truck. He refuses to accept anything that doesn’t fit his expectations. Hell, given how little he sees me and the rest of his children, he might as well be dead. He was never a loving man, and that’s only gotten worse since Mom’s passing.

  I drive slowly through the countryside, needing the time to cool off and clear my head. I can’t help but think about my father, his mistress, and my mother. While my mom was lying in bed, slowly dying, her husband was off screwing another woman? How could he even think of doing such a thing? And to then refer to Mom as the love of his life? Ha! I shake my head. My fingers tighten around the steering wheel—so much so that my knuckles turn white. I feel every muscle tighten as the anger surges through my body. I hate this. I hate him. I hate that my poor mother had such a shitty husband. Did she know? Did she know what my father was off doing when he claimed to be working?

  I’ve been driving mindlessly for too long. When I pull myself from my thoughts, I find that I’m driving down Main Street, right toward the bar and the auction that’s probably over by now. Maybe I can slip inside, find Celeste, and tell her how sorry I am for not showing up. I don’t know why I even care at this point, but I need her to see that I’m serious about our deal—that I’m a man of my word.

  I pull into the gravel parking lot and shut off the truck. The place looks packed based on how many cars are in the parking lot. I know walking in there is going to earn me all kinds of looks from the people of this town, but maybe it will show Celeste what she needs to see: how much the people of this town really hate me, and how unlikely it is that they’ll work with us. If nothing else, I’ll at least get to see her again and tease myself a little more.

  I step out of the truck and slam the old metal door behind me. The gravel beneath my boots crunches with my every step. I pull open the door and the loud music from inside filters out, welcoming me. I walk into the bar, and to my surprise, no one stares at me. They all seem lost in their own worlds—drinking and laughing. I head up to the bar and order a beer. The woman behind the bar slides one over and points toward the dance floor. I toss her some money for the drink then look in the direction she’s pointing. My eyes land on Celeste.

  She’s smiling wide and her eyes are glowing as she’s being spun around on the dance floor by another man. She looks sexy as fuck in that short miniskirt and boots. Her white top is hugging every curve, and her tan skin is dewy and glistening from dancing.

  I feel my teeth clench together as I lift the bottle to my lips and take a sip.

  “She’s the new toy in town,” the bartender says. “You better get in line if you want your turn.” She offers a knowing smile before turning around and walking away.

  What the fuck is that supposed to mean: if I want my turn? This woman doesn’t know me. I don’t want a turn with anyone. Yes, I’m attracted to Celeste, but looking around the bar, so is every other man in town. She’s beautiful and sexy. If someone isn’t attracted to her, they’re out of their mind. But just because I find her attractive doesn’t mean I want anything to do with her outside of business. In fact, I’ve never wanted someone so little before. Or more accurately, I’ve never wanted to want someone so little before.

  I shake my head at myself and toss back the rest of the beer. “Bourbon,” I order, needing something a little stronger.

  The bartender gives me a little smile but pours the drink and hands it over. I toss it back quickly, but she’s still standing in front of me, holding the bottle. She pours another like she knows what I’m going to ask for. Hell, I probably look jealous as fuck right now. I’m sure she’s seen this before with every other man in town.

  I take my time with this drink, sipping it slowly while watching her have the time of her life. She never notices me. Her attention stays on the man she’s dancing with. When the song ends, a new man replaces the last one and they start dancing all over again.

  “Why don’t you just go over there?” the bartender asks.

  I shake my head. “Why would I do that? She doesn’t want to dance with an old man. Especially not the town pariah.” I finish off my drink, wanting to wash that word out of my mouth.

  She leans against the bar. “I saw the look on her face when she thought you couldn’t make it. Maybe you’re not as old and washed up as you think.” With a grin, she turns and walks away.

  I get one more drink as I talk myself out of going up to her. I drink it slowly as I watch her. Her cheeks are pink, and her skin is glowing. Her eyes are bright and filled with excitement. She looks like she’s having the time of her life. I don’t want to ruin that for her or confuse her like I’m confusing myself. Why can’t I ignore her like the rest?

  I place my empty glass on the bar and head for the door. I’m hanging my head as I walk across the gravel toward my truck. I want her, but I don’t want to want her. She could only bring more hurt and pain into my life if I reach out and take her the way I want to. I laugh at myself. Hell, it’s not like she wants me anyway. She’s in her late 20s and I’m in my 40s. No way would a beautiful young girl like that want anything to do with a bitter old man like myself.

  “Drake!” someone calls from behind me just as I’m opening the door to my truck.

  I turn around to find her running toward me. “I didn’t even know you were here! Where are you going?” she asks, coming to a stop in front of me. Her chest is heaving from her short jog. It’s rising and falling quickly, and drawing my full attention. “I thought you couldn’t make it?” she adds on.

  “Something came up with my dad. I didn’t mean to blow you off.” I swing the truck door closed and lean against it.

  She offers a coy smile. “Don’t worry about it. Why don’t we go inside and get a drink?” She slides her hands into her pockets, looking a little nervous.

  I shake my head. “Nah, I really shouldn’t. I already missed the auction, so I think I’m just going to take off.” I motion toward the road with my thumb.

  “Come on. Stay. Please? For me?” she begs with a grin on her lips. She reaches out and takes my hand in hers. “Let’s get a drink. Get to kn
ow each other better.” She bats her long, dark eyelashes at me and I can’t tell if she’s being serious or making a joke to persuade me.

  My eyes are glued to our joined hands. My mouth is suddenly dry. “Nah, I really should be going,” I say, pulling my hand from hers with a surge of determination. I have to go. I have to keep my distance. It’d be too easy to pull her against me, especially right now. She’s been drinking. I’ve been drinking. She seems more carefree and friendly right now, and I don’t want to take advantage.

  “You, Drake Slade, promised me,” she says, stepping closer. Her eyes are locked on mine. Our chests are nearly touching.

  I look down into her eyes—big fucking mistake. My mouth opens but no words come out.

  “Come back inside with me. I’ve danced with every guy in this town . . . everyone but you, that is.”

  “Celeste, I . . .” I try, but the words stop when she tugs me back toward the door.

  I don’t put up a fight or argue with her as she drags me to the dance floor. I guess maybe this is part of her plan: let the town see how close we are. If they like her, then maybe they’ll like me by extension. Knowing that, I don’t let this dance go to my head. It doesn’t mean she likes me; it just means she’s doing her job.

  She smiles as she places my hands on her hips. “Come on. Show me what you got,” she laughs sweetly, starting to move against me.

  I grunt and shake my head as I begin moving with her. Her body is pressed against mine, and each wiggle of her hips only teases me that much more. As we dance, I try to think of anything that will keep my body in check: baseball, my father and his mistress, my troubles with this town, but none of it works. I can feel myself coming alive. My blood begins to boil and my blood pressure rises.

  When she turns around and presses her ass against my groin, a soft growl leaves my lips. She feels how excited I am. Suddenly, she stops dancing and turns around to look up at me. Her lips are parted with her heavy breathing, and her eyes are glassy.

  I open my mouth, not even sure of what I’m going to say. To no one’s surprise, no words come out. There we are, standing stock still in the middle of a dozen dancing people. We can’t talk or even move. All we can do is stay locked inside whatever this is. It’s the same whirlwind we were trapped in the night we met. We both know we can’t act on this, but we can’t escape it either.

  Someone dancing near us bumps into Celeste’s back, causing her to fall forward. My arms reach out, steadying her.

  “Thank you,” she breathes out, her hot breath blowing across my dry lips.

  Instead of replying, I do what I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t keep avoiding it. I need it out of the way so we can get back to business. I press my mouth to hers. She’s already in my arms, with her chest pressed against mine. I’m almost shocked when her arms move upward, latching onto the back of my neck as she takes the kiss deeper.

  Her lips are as soft as clouds. Her tongue is as sweet as the ripest fruit. And the way it moves against mine is fucking heavenly—or I guess in my case, hellish, since I know this is all I’ll ever get. My hands move up, cupping her face, holding her to me as I give the kiss my all, my everything. I kiss her like she’s the air I need to breathe. I kiss her like she’s my lifeline and I need her to survive. Then she lets out a whimper and I feel her shiver against me. The sensation is like an electric current, and I’ve gotten too close. She literally sends a shockwave through me.

  I pull away from her as fast as I can. Her eyes are wide with surprise and glassy with fresh tears. Her lips are red, swollen, and glistening from our kiss. Her chest is heaving with excitement, and her face is turning pinker by the second. Is she embarrassed because I pulled away? Does she think I’m turning her down in some way? I hope not, because in this moment, the only thing I can think of doing is pulling her out of this bar and into my truck, where I can drive her home and spend the rest of the night buried inside her.

  But. That. Can’t. Happen.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell her so softly I’m not even sure if she heard me. Without another word or waiting for a reply, I turn and leave the bar as quickly as I entered it. Pushing through the door into the cool night air, I feel more awake and refreshed. I breathe the crisp air deep into my lungs. I take every step toward my truck with determination. I need to get out of here, away from her. I don’t even remember being this drawn to Casey all those years ago. There’s just something about Celeste that pulls me in. I don’t know what it is or why I can’t ignore it, but I fucking hate it. I hate anything that tries to control me. I’m my own man; I can do as I please. So why the fuck can’t I keep my distance when it comes to her?

  I rip my truck out of the parking lot at lightning speed, but the drive home is slow. I need time to think. I need time to get this straight in my head. Why did I go to that bar? Why did I let her talk me into going back inside? Why did I dance with her when I knew it would only tease me?

  Stress. That has to be the reason. Dealing with all that’s going on at the brewery, then dealing with my dad on top of it, I’ve had more stress than usual. Drinking certainly didn’t help matters. I pull into the driveway and exit the truck, walking straight into the house and to the kitchen, where I left my bottle of bourbon. I plan on drinking it until I don’t remember that kiss we shared. No way will I be able to move on if it’s still fresh in my mind. I need to erase it.

  I grab the bottle and lean against the counter as I open it and take a long drink. It burns going down, but it’s a burn I crave. It’s a burn that will bring peace in the end. I shake my head, and mentally, I’m ripping myself a new one. I should’ve done everything I could in order to avoid her. I should’ve had Harrison attend all the meetings. I should’ve known I couldn’t trust myself.

  The crunch of gravel draws my attention toward the door. I look up, confused as to who could be coming over so late. The porch light is on, and the moment she steps up to the screen door, I see her. Her green eyes are damn near glowing. Her cheeks, flushed. Her eyes lock on mine but she doesn’t say anything or move to open the door. I take one more swig of my bottle and set it on the island in front of me as I move toward the door.

  What is she doing here? Doesn’t she see that this can’t happen? Why would she follow me home? I open the door and she steps inside without a word. She looks up at me and I look down at her.

  “I . . .” she says quietly before shaking her head clear. “I know I’m not thinking clearly.”

  “What are you doing here, Celeste?” I rasp out, not even sounding like myself.

  She pushes past me and I turn to watch as she paces the living room floor.

  “I know I shouldn’t be here. I know we shouldn’t have kissed. But I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since I met you. I don’t know what it is about you. I was more than prepared to keep my feelings to myself, but that was when I thought they were one-sided. When you kissed me, it opened a whole can of worms, and suddenly, I can’t remember why it’s wrong anymore.” She holds her arms out at her sides and lets them fall. The expression on her face is verging on sadness, and it pains me to see it. I didn’t mean to confuse her or hurt her in any way. In fact, it’s the last thing I want to do. I’m only trying to hold things together—not make them worse.

  “We work together,” I remind her. “You’re going to be leaving in a year,” I add on. “Oh yeah, and let’s not forget the big age difference between us.”

  “We’re both adults, Drake,” she says, stepping closer. “You don’t think we can be adult enough to keep things separate? I know I can.” Her fingers hook under the bottom of her shirt as she slowly pulls it above her head, leaving her standing in front of me in her black lace bra. Her breasts are pushed together and I can’t do anything but imagine running my tongue between them.

  “I promise I won’t think this is more than what it is as long as you promise you won’t either. I can’t stay with you. All I can do is give us both something we want.” She bites down on her lower lip as she
watches me intently. God, how I’d like to be biting down on that lip right now.

  Her eyes are full of lust and excitement. Her chest is moving up and down quickly, causing her breasts to press together even more tightly. She’s basically giving me what I want. She feels it. She wants me too. But she knows we can’t work in the long run. All this could ever be is sex—two consenting adults who want to fulfill a need that no one else can fill at this moment. I feel myself wavering. She’s offering herself up on a silver platter, and I’m not strong enough to walk away.

  I step toward her quickly before I can change my mind. With my mouth on hers, I pull her against my chest and pick her up against me. Her legs wrap around my hips and my hands land on her firm ass to support her weight. The alcohol I’ve consumed tonight pushes away the reasons why this is wrong, and convinces me that this is so fucking right. My blood feels like it’s boiling beneath my skin—bringing my entire body to life in ways I haven’t felt in years. Her small hands push my shirt up my stomach and her fingers skim across my skin. Her touch nearly burns my flesh. I press her back to the wall and break our kiss to yank my shirt over my head.

  Tossing it to the floor, my mouth is right back on hers. Even though I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything, I also know how bad this is. I want to give her the chance to back out—to change her mind. The way she’s kissing me: fast, hard, and rushed, and the way her nails are digging into my skin, it’s clear she’s wanting me to take the next step. My hands slowly start moving up her back.

  I’ve had one-night stands before—long, long ago—but even those were with women I knew. I know nothing about Celeste other than the fact that she’s my new lawyer and she’s from California. I have no idea what she drinks, what her favorite food is, or the type of man she usually goes for. I don’t know if she’s a romantic or if she prefers to get down and dirty with random men. Instead of being able to use my knowledge of a woman to give her what she likes, I just have to go with what feels right. And right now, the only thing that feels right is everything that should feel wrong. I want to move us into the bedroom—which hasn’t been used since Casey moved out—but I don’t think I could handle being in there with another woman. I haven’t slept in that bed in years, because I couldn’t bear the thought of being in there without her.