Beautiful and Broken Read online

  “Oh, but it’s a great ass.”

  I make a face.

  “I’m teasing. Jacket's yours. Keep it. If I’m lucky, I won’t ever have to suit up again.”

  “What if you come across another damsel in distress?”

  He chuckles. “Somehow I doubt I’ll come across another girl who lost the ass end of her dress at a formal event.”

  “You have me there.” I open the door and turn before shutting it. “So I guess I’ll call you?” Wow. This does feel like a date. “I mean, about some more go-sees.”

  “Of course.” His face is alive with humor and it makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. “What else would you mean?”

  I slam the door and give him a little wave. As I walk to the building, I pick through my purse. Shit! My keys. I didn’t bring them because I was out with Amy, and I’m not on the lease. The doormen won’t let me in without them.

  When I turn, Sawyer is pulling away and I wave like a mad woman and scream his name. He slams on the breaks and slowly backs up. The passenger window rolls down with a quiet buzz.

  “Forget something?”

  “Yeah. My keys.”

  “Hop in. You can hang at my place until your roommate gets home.”

  “Oh, no. That’s okay. Maybe you could drop me back at the party?”

  “Did you forget you missing part of your dress?”

  Shit. “Right. Do you mind?”

  He leans across the seat and opens the door for me. I hop inside and shiver from the quick change in temperature. “What are friends for?”

  Hm. Friends. Is that what we are? Oddly enough, there’s a certain amount of truth to it. It strikes me funny that I find myself feeling this comfortable around a guy I had casual sex with—but don’t want a relationship with. He seems to feel the same—maybe. This is new territory for me. Very new.

  “Thanks again,” I say before the elevator dings and the doors open. He waves for me to go first, but I shake my head.

  “Nuh huh. You don’t need to see more of me than you already have.”

  He leans against the elevator wall, chuckling. He pushes off and removes his wallet to pull out his key card. A short stroll down the hall, where a lady with a dog in her purse glares at me, and we reach his room.

  “Do you know that lady?”

  “She’s been staying in the room next door and she’s caught a few girls leaving my room in the mornings. Needless to say she doesn’t have a lot of respect for me.”

  “Imagine that.”

  “Be nice. I just saved your ass.”

  “Ha ha.”

  He opens the door and I step inside.

  “I’ll get you something to change into.”

  “That would be fantastic.”

  I make my way over to the wall of windows and look down at the city below. The moon is pale, with a soft pink hue to it. It’s quiet up here looking down over everyone. Did I do this the night I slept with him? It frustrates me that I still can’t remember.

  “Sorry. I don’t exactly have anything in your size.”

  Sawyer comes out of the bathroom, holding out a pair of plaid pajama pants and a faded blue t-shirt. I take them and excuse myself to go to the bathroom. His pants aren’t as big on me as I thought they’d be, but I have to roll up the bottoms. The shirt is a bit big, but just enough to be comfortable. I hold up my dress and check out the damage. Wow. Totally not fixable. I ball it up and when I come out I throw it in the trashcan by the door. I’ll have to insist on paying Amy for it and hope she’s not too mad at me.

  “So what now?” I ask him.

  He quirks an eyebrow. “Round two?”

  I almost choke and disguise it with a cough. I have no idea if he’s serious or not. My body’s game, but my head certainly isn't.

  “I thought you said we’re friends?”

  “Close friends?” He takes a step toward me, and I’m still on the fence about whether or not he’s teasing me.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “I’m only teasing,” he says with a smile.

  “Oh! Oh. Thank God.”

  His eyebrows stretch up to his hairline.

  “I mean, it’s not a good idea. If you even wanted to, which you don’t. Or at least you did at one point because…and now you don’t anymore. And I don’t. I’m really thirsty.”

  His smile turns mischievous. “Relax. I don’t want to sleep with you again. I like you too much for that.”

  I open my mouth to speak, but stop myself as he strolls over to the bar. His top few buttons are undone and his hair is a little messy, like he’s run his hands through it more than a few times.

  What did he mean? I like you too much for that. I could let it go…but then I’ll never know, and a part of me wants to. Very much, to my complete shock.

  “I’m afraid I don’t understand,” I say.

  He pours two beers into tall glasses and after he hands me mine, we take seats on the couch. He sits down first and I purposely sit on the opposite end, earning me a chuckle.

  “Are you going to answer me?”

  “What was the question?” He takes a long drink, and a thin line of foam decorates his top lip. His tongue glides along his upper lip to wipe it off and my gaze is glued to his lips.

  I take a deep breath and try to focus on our conversation. “Why don’t you sleep with women you like?”

  He takes a deep breath and stares at me with that quiet intensity that wreaks havoc on my insides. “You’re not ready for a relationship, and neither am I. It would end badly, one of us pissed off or hurt. I like being around you, but one way to effectively terminate my spending time with you is to sleep with you—again.”

  I frown at him. “I was with my ex since high school. He was my best friend. I’ve never been close to any other man before and I really don’t know the first thing about being friends with a guy. Jason was always so…jealous. But I like being around you.” I like it a lot."

  “So...friends?”

  “Friends.”

  We seal it with a handshake.

  “So, friend, maybe you can tell me what that ex of yours did to you. Because you know, as a friend, I’m obliged to kick his ass if he hurts you again.”

  “No ass kicking necessary. And the jury’s still out on what he did to me.”

  “How so?”

  “It’s a long story. He either kissed my sister on our wedding day, or she kissed him.”

  “Sounds pretty cut and dry. Are their stories conflicting?”

  I sigh. “No. Well, they were at first, but now they’re saying the same thing. She kissed him first.”

  “Well that’s that, then.”

  “No. I don’t know. It’s complicated.”

  “Trust me. I get complicated.”

  “Well, my mother meddles…and I have a feeling she got my sister to change her story.”

  “Why would she do that?”

  I groan and tip my head back, closing my eyes. Am I really spilling my life to him? “My ex works at the same law firm as my dad. Our fathers are partners and they’ve been discussing making Jason—my ex—a partner too. My parents would like nothing more than to have the firm be a family-run business, which would be effectively accomplished by my marrying Jason. They’ve been pushing us together since I was sixteen years old.”

  “Fucking parents. We’re better off without them.”

  I smile at him. “I don’t know about that.”

  His face is serious, like his mind is far away.

  “What is it? Is your relationship with your parents that bad?”

  “I don’t talk about my family.”

  “Oh.” But I talked about mine. I try not to be hurt by his refusal. Just 'cause I shared I guess it doesn’t mean he has to, but somehow, it hurts me. That’s not how friendship works. “That’s okay. If you want to talk, though, I’m a good listener.”

  The quiet intensity is back—the stone eyes, the firm set of his lips and the clenched jaw. It’s
hard to draw him out of it, until I ask him if he wants me to put my dress back on, which makes him smile. Apparently friends can stare at each other’s asses. Good to know.

  Before long we’re sitting shoulder to shoulder on the couch, engrossed in an old action flick that I can’t remember the name of. We bundle up under a thick blanket and munch on nachos from room service. Jason never did this with me. Not since high school. In university he was always studying, always determined to be the best and get the highest marks. After university he was all about impressing his father, and mine. Intent on them making him a partner. I was lucky if I could pull him away to come to bed with me. Mostly I went to bed by myself.

  It’s nice just being here like this with Sawyer. Just enjoying each other’s company and not thinking about other things either of us has to do, or wishing we’re doing something else. It’s peaceful. Even with the sexual chemistry that makes me want to roll over on top of him and have him slip inside of me.

  It’s so peaceful, in fact, that I can’t stop yawning.

  Thirteen

  I WAKE FEELING warm, cocooned in arms and a thick blanket. I cuddle close to the body next to me. For a moment, I’m still with Jason and we’re in bed together. Light shines in from a window onto my face and I kiss his chest and nuzzle closer, sliding my toes across his bare feet.

  “Mmm,” he moans.

  When I open my eyes, I’m in Sawyer’s hotel room. Oh shit! What am I doing? I lift my head and there’s a little wet spot on his shirt. I frigging drooled on his shirt.

  I practically push him off the couch to get up.

  He rubs his eyes. “Good morning to you, too.”

  My phone vibrates on the coffee table and I snatch it. Four missed calls. I glance around the room. The gold colored hands on the clock on the wall says nine o'clock. I never sleep in this late! My mother called three times and there’s a text from Amy.

  Text me, bitch! Let me know you’re safe.

  Quickly, I text her back. On my way home.

  Sawyer yawns and stretches, pushing himself up to a sitting position on the sofa. He rubs his eyes and looks at up at me with bedroom eyes and a shy smile.

  “Shit!” I exclaim.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I have to go.”

  I scramble around the room, collecting my shoes and purse. Yes. Plaid pajama pants, a t-shirt and high heels. I’m a rock star. When I get to the door, there’s a girl on the other side.

  She’s hard looking, like she’s lived through a lot of shit and barely come out on top. Her hair is straight and black and her eyes are a dull brown. Her makeup is thick and her lipstick’s a brilliant shade of plum. She props her hands on her hips and glares at me. “A sleepover. How cute,” she purrs, glancing over at Sawyer, who looks pissed. His face is tight, like every muscle in his head and neck are tensed. I glance back and forth between them.

  “Excuse me.” I side-step around her, ignoring my curiosity.

  “Don’t leave on my account,” she calls after me. I look back at her but don’t stop moving. Something about her looks familiar. The door slams shut. Focus.

  I open my phone and call my mother. “No, Molly,” my father says. “She left for your place about an hour ago.”

  Shit! Oh, no. Amy is going to throw a fit. Not only did I leave her with my mother, I left her with my mother at nine o’clock on a Saturday morning.

  ***

  I barge through the door, frantic. I need to save my friend. Amy and my mother are sitting in the living room. Amy is in her pajamas, nursing a cup of steaming coffee. The smell is to die for and a small cup for myself would do wonders to get through the next twenty minutes. My mother has her hands crossed on her knees and she sits ramrod straight. Both of them stand when they see me.

  “There you are!” Amy says.

  When my mother’s eyes are turned to me, Amy mimes putting a gun in her mouth and pulling the trigger.

  “I’m going back to bed,” she says.

  The moment her door clicks shut, my mother prowls toward me, one slow step at a time. I gulp, waiting for her wrath and am so pissed at myself that at twenty-three years old I will let her scold me and spout her venom, like she did when I was a kid, only now she can’t force me to do what she wants. She can only make life uncomfortable until she gets it.

  “Where were you all night?”

  “Mom. I was with a friend.”

  “With a friend. Look at you! T-shirt, pajamas and high heels! You hair is a mess and your makeup is smudged. You look like…well, I won’t say what you look like.” She takes a deep breath. “You better not have been with that boy from last night.”

  “I would hardly call Sawyer a boy.”

  “I did some digging on your friend. Sawyer Davis? That’s his name, right? Professional boxer?”

  “Mom! I can’t believe you.” I throw my hands up and pace to the window. “You had no right to pry into his life like that.”

  “Well, it’s a good thing I did. I bet you didn’t know he was charged with second degree murder when he was fifteen, did you?”

  I open my mouth and snap it shut. I want to tell her to stop, to take her research and shove it, but I don’t. I lower myself onto the windowsill and take a few deep breaths in and out. Murder? There has to be some explanation.

  “He killed one of his mother’s boyfriends.”

  “He'd still be in jail if he was convicted.” I think. I have no idea how many years a juvenile would get for that. “Was he convicted?”

  “Got off on a technicality. The evidence wasn’t handled properly, though even his mother testified against him.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “He’s a criminal and a liar, obviously. Did you know he did six months for assault when he was nineteen? Is this the kind of boy you want in your life? Around our family? How do you think this would affect your father’s reputation if people knew who his daughter was spending her time with it?”

  I swallow a hard lump in my throat and my whole body feels numb. I’m so shocked I have no words. Sawyer isn’t my boyfriend and though I shouldn’t feel betrayed, I can’t help feel that way. Sure, he has baggage, who doesn’t? I certainly have my fair share, but this…this goes so far beyond anything I imagined.

  “I…I…”

  My mother walks across the room and pulls me into a hug. “You’re too trusting. It’s always been your downfall. But you can’t let this guy rope you in. He’s no good for you. Jason has been the love of your life since you were sixteen. He’s the one that deserves to be forgiven for his mistakes, not some criminal boy you barely know.” She kisses my cheek and heads for the door. Before she walks out, she turns and meets my gaze. “Now go and get a shower. You smell like trash.”

  With a slam, she’s gone, and I’m left alone, trying to sift through my thoughts.

  I hear Amy’s door squeak open. “Is she gone?”

  “Yes.”

  “What. The. Fuck?” Amy begins. “You left me for a whole half hour with Cruella Deville. It’s a good thing I love you or I’d be tossing your ass out on the street. Seriously, your mother’s a bitch.”

  My gaze is set to the floor. I can’t even look up at her.

  “Molly? Molly, what’s wrong?”

  “You said that when your firm has to smooth things over with the public for Sawyer that it has nothing to do with women. What did you mean?”

  She sighs and takes a seat on the window ledge beside me. “Did you stay at Sawyer’s again last night?”

  I nod. “But we didn’t sleep together. We watched a movie and fell asleep on the couch.”

  “You and Sawyer Davis fell asleep on the couch?”

  I make a face.

  “Okay…I didn’t realize things between you had gotten serious.”

  “We’re not serious. We’re friends.”

  “Molly, I don’t really know that much about him. All I know is that he got into some trouble as a kid for assault or something like that. Maybe you s
hould ask him. Or I could ask Charlie?"

  “No. Just tell me what you know.”

  “Usually his problems are fighting or alcohol related. He gets drunk and gets stupid, like he did the night you got your stitches.”

  She points to my forehead and I touch my head to feel the scar.

  “I opened up to him. Was that a mistake?”

  She sighs and thinks for a moment. “I like Sawyer, Moll, but would I want him to date you?” She shakes her head. “I’m calling Charlie.”

  She moves to stand but I put my hand on hers and she sits back down.

  “No. If I find out about his past, it’s going to be because he tells me.”

  “Don’t be stupid. You’ve been through enough with Fucknuts. You don’t need another idiot in your life.”

  “Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone else in—ever. It’s better to be indifferent. Fuck. Maybe I should just get back with Jason. I know exactly who he is. Even if he cheated again, it wouldn't hurt as bad—I wouldn’t be caught by surprise like I was on my wedding day...”

  “Don’t be complacent. Where is this coming from? You’re acting like you’re falling for Sawyer,” she says.

  “Ridiculous. I just want to know who I’m spending my time with. If I’m hanging around with a murderer then I deserve to know.”

  “Exactly, so we call Charlie or we ask Google. He’s a celebrity. Very little about him is private.”

  Google. It’s a good idea in theory. But I can’t make myself do it. I open and shut my computer all weekend and flex my fingers, ready to spell out his name, but I stop myself. I’m new at this boy friend thing, but I feel like Googling him is crossing a line. If he wants to tell me, he’ll tell me, right? But then, what if he is a murderer? Am I safe with him? Ted Bundy was apparently the nicest guy. People never suspected. Sawyer is nice. Sweet at times, too. But I see a darkness in him, something I chalked up to him having a rough childhood. Full of issues? Definitely. A murderer? I really couldn’t say for sure—not yet.

  ***

  Work is quiet when I get in on Monday. Most of the agents are out of the office and I take the time to eat my breakfast sandwich in peace. Amy sends me an email and her name pops up at the bottom of my screen. No subject.