Asking for Trouble (16 page)

As if on cue, the connecting door opened and Hayden walked in looking so goddamn beautiful it made breathing difficult. She smiled as though she hadn’t just turned his world upside down by passing on her American Express number to pay for his sister’s education. As if she hadn’t just stripped him of the only thing he had. His pride.

“Story called. They want to check out and grab brunch somewhere before heading back. Sound good? Daniel said he’ll show up when he’s ready, whatever that means.” Her easy glide in his direction faltered. “What’s wrong?”

“When did you do it?” he said quietly, voice echoing in his own ears. “Did you even consider consulting me first?”

“Do…what?” She shook her head. “I’m not following.”

He pushed off the bed, scoffing as he passed her. “My sister just called me. If your plan was to play stupid, you should have made the grant anonymous.”

She stared at him for a beat. “You might as well be talking in Swahili. I gather you’re upset, but I assure you I’m not playing stupid.”

“Right, Hayden. Just keep up the act and maybe the idiot mechanic will eventually buy it.” He shoved his wallet and keys into the front pocket of his jeans. “My sister just called. The Winstead Foundation paid for her college tuition. Selected personally by Miss Hayden Winstead herself.”

Her face drained completely of color. She opened her mouth to speak but only a few confused words emerged. “I don’t…but that makes no…sense.”

Even with righteous anger coursing through his veins, the sight of her in distress felt like a hard kick in the stomach. He dismissed his need to yank her into his arms and forgive her, just so she’d smile again. But he wouldn’t mean it. So he stood his ground.

“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You tried to pay me after our last night together.” His pronouncement caused her to fall back a step. He ignored the immediate sting of regret over his choice of words. There was no room for regret in addition to his resentment. “I didn’t accept your money last time. I won’t accept it this time. Or
ever
. Keep your goddamn money, Hayden. We’re not all sitting around hoping for a piece of the Winstead fortune.”

“Of course not. That’s ridiculous. I never saw it like th—”

“God. Can you even see outside of your privileged bubble? Just because your life is planned and controlled down to the smallest detail, doesn’t mean you can control everyone else with money, too. What you did was purely selfish.”

Brent watched as she absorbed his words. And changed right before his very eyes. In a matter of seconds, she went from the casual, playful girl he’d spent the night with to the cool, ivory-tower-dwelling princess he’d fought with relentlessly for months. Warm, chocolate-brown eyes turned shuttered. Her posture stiffened. Brent wanted to shout at the ceiling as he watched her slip away from him, knowing that whatever they’d found in the darkness last night had just been obliterated. Ironically, instead of defusing the bomb-like situation, he’d allowed it to explode in his face.

Hayden laughed without humor and it sliced through him. “I can’t believe I thought for one second that you could get past the damn money. It’s never going to end, is it? You think I’m a spoiled brat and no matter what I say or do, nothing will change that. Every time we fight, I’m going to be reminded of how very little I know about the real world, about honest work. You’ll do it every time. Well, guess what? I’m already sick of it.” She took a step toward the door. “Count me out.”

Brent followed her. “You went behind my back. Accomplished something in minutes that should’ve taken me years. You really can’t understand why that would fucking bother me?”

“I understand that it bothers you, Brent. I understand,” she returned. “But without giving me a chance to say a word, you went right to your knee-jerk response of
crucify the rich girl
.”

He shrugged. “If the Italian leather pump fits…”

Fuck
. That one finally pushed her too far. He briefly considered hiding underneath the desk to avoid the inevitable explosion, only he wouldn’t fit. Her breasts rose and fell in her fury, fists curled at her sides. Jesus, she looked gorgeous when she got worked up. “Go ahead and return the money, you moronic asshole. I’m going to use it to erect a statue in Times Square. A hundred-foot, bronze middle finger pointing toward Queens.”

Brent couldn’t help it. He pushed her further. His anger outweighed his common sense. And his libido crushed them both. Pissed-off Hayden equaled rough, dirty sex and he needed the release. The distraction. The idea of losing himself in her tempted him beyond control. “If you need a reminder of how much you enjoy my middle finger, just ask. You don’t have to go building memorials in its honor.”

She shook her head slowly. “This has all been one huge mistake.”

No
. No, that’s not the reaction he’d wanted. He wanted her to throw him on the bed and ride out her temper. But she was already striding back into her room, steps clipped and purposeful. “Where are you going? This isn’t over.”

“It was over before it began.” Brent caught up with her, but she jerked away when he grabbed her arm. Her rejection didn’t deter him.
Wouldn’t
deter him. Boosting her onto the waist-level dresser, he moved between her thighs and went to kiss her hard. As his mouth descended, her look of undiluted panic confused him and he paused. Words escaped her mouth in a rush. “Yes, I paid the tuition. It was nothing to me.
Nothing
. I’ll spend that amount on hair product this month alone.” She averted her eyes. “Get off me. When I decided I wanted a kept man, this isn’t what I had in mind.”

Hayden used Brent’s shock as an opportunity to grab her overnight bag and dart out of the room.

Chapter Sixteen

Hayden walked slowly down Riverside Drive, grateful to finally be home, but unable to pick up the pace. Her limbs were sore, her brain fried. After sending a quick text to Story, she’d taken a cab from the Borgata to the Atlantic City Bus Terminal and ridden it back to Manhattan alone. Riding in the car with Brent had seemed too daunting in light of what happened. She knew her friend was probably a wicked combination of worried and curious, but she didn’t have the energy to think about the inevitable conversation they had coming.

The two-hour ride would have been a good opportunity to think, if there hadn’t been two teenage girls in front of her discussing cell phone upgrades. Or a man behind her reading every road sign they passed out loud, then translating it into French. She had, however, managed to come to one rock-solid conclusion. Her mother was smarter than she’d given her credit for. Obviously, she’d been paying closer attention than Hayden realized. She’d even handed the ammunition to her mother on a silver platter during their last phone call.
Actually, he’s working two jobs because he helps support his brother’s family. Plus, his sister in college. Which is kind of…well, it’s pretty damn amazing.

What better way to ensure her and Brent’s relationship tanked than hitting a man like him right where it hurts? Belittling his hard work. Cutting down his pride. Her mother’s ploy worked like a charm. Brent hated her now. After everything, after she’d opened up to him, exposed herself in his arms, he still thought her presumptuous, thoughtless enough to pay his sister’s college tuition. That he could think her capable of such a move for even a second made her cringe.

She hadn’t denied it. If she could go back and have the confrontation again, she still wouldn’t. What did it matter? His perception of her would never change, and trying to convince him otherwise would be exhausting and pointless. And it hurt. His judgment
hurt
.

It seemed his loathing of her lifestyle had done nothing to deter his attraction to her, however. He’d nearly taken her one last time on the hotel room dresser. Without question, if he’d kissed her, if she’d let his lips reach hers, she would have let him. Would have had no choice but to cling to him and accept the pleasure. She’d had no other option but to deliver a parting shot that would give her enough time to escape, because her attraction to him hadn’t dimmed either. Not even slightly. The more distance the bus had put between them, she’d slowly recognized the attraction went far beyond their amazing sexual connection. She’d been so sure they’d found some common ground. So positive they were moving past their differences. Then he’d thrown it right back in her face.

Despite it all, despite everything, she missed him already. Still, maybe her mother had done her a favor by paying Lucy Mason’s tuition on the sly and pinning it on her. If one misunderstanding was all it took to bring them back to an enemy state, they’d already been doomed.

Hayden glanced across the street toward her parents’ brownstone and pulled up short when she saw her father standing outside, staring up at the structure. She waited for traffic to pass then crossed the street, her overnight bag growing heavy at her side.

“Dad? Are you locked out or something?”

He turned to her, still appearing lost in thought. His eyes, normally sharp and full of humor, were tired. A little dazed. “Oh hey, sweetheart. No, I’m not locked out.” He gestured limply toward the house. “I just never really take the time to appreciate…what we have. Things, you know. We take them for granted until…” He trailed off.

She studied his face closely, guilt soaring through her. Her father’s company, their family’s livelihood, was at stake and she could think of nothing but her sore heart. Perhaps Brent was right and she was nothing but an overindulged brat. “Dad…I…”

He interrupted her. “I know your mother told you about our financial issues. I also know what she asked you to do. We had quite an argument about it, I’m afraid.” Suddenly focused, his gaze found hers. “I don’t want you to marry someone you don’t love. I’d never ask that of you. Never.”

Hayden swallowed heavily, unable to tell him she’d already decided against marrying Stuart. Afraid of his reaction to her selfish choice. “I know that. I know you wouldn’t ask. Mother, however…” She got the desired laugh. “Not quite so accommodating.”

“This is true.” He shifted, digging his hands into his pockets. “Look, your mother doesn’t have much faith in me. God knows I’m not cut out for this business. But I’m doing everything I can to resolve this without taking such…extreme measures.”

She appealed to him with her eyes. “Dad, I’m asking you to please use the money you set aside in my name.”

He was already shaking his head. “Never. Look, sweetheart. I’m working on it. Okay?”

Hiding her uncertainty, she squeezed his arm. “I know you are. Everything is going to work out fine, one way or another.” He smiled warmly to acknowledge her support, but something just beyond her shoulder caught his attention. Tentatively, he raised his hand to wave at an approaching man in a suit. Hayden turned to him. “Who is that?”

Her father cleared his throat. “A Realtor. He’s just here to appraise the house. No big deal.” He looked away. “Just in case we can’t find someone else to cover the loan in time.”

“Is there zero chance Stuart will pay it?” She swallowed the knot in her throat. “Even without me marrying him?”

“He already paid it,” her father murmured, distracted by the approaching man. He seemed to realize his slip then and scrambled to cover it. “That is to say, he paid it, then took it back. It was just one of those thin—”

“When?” She felt a rushing in her ears, as the complete puzzle began to form. “When did he take back the money?”

Her father’s weary gaze dropped to the sidewalk. “Wednesday morning.”

The morning after the dinner party. The morning after she’d flaunted another man in his face.

“Why?” Hayden whispered the question, even though the answer was devastatingly obvious. Stuart had bailed out her father, but she’d screwed them all over by bringing Brent to Stuart’s house in some misguided act of rebellion.

“Your mother…she might have implied to Stuart that you were amenable to the marriage, so he paid the loan as a show of faith.” He lifted a hand and let it drop limply to his side. “I’m sorry, Hayden. I didn’t know.” With a deep breath, he gripped her shoulder. “Listen, just try to trust me here. I’m working on fixing what I broke.”

Hayden stood frozen on the sidewalk, watching her father disappear into the house with the smiling man wearing a Bluetooth, his shoulders more hunched than usual. As if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. He’d had that burden eased when Stuart paid off the loan, but her actions had thrust it back onto him. In that moment, she saw the harsh reality of her unorthodox family’s situation. Before, it had only been a far-off possibility in her mind, but as she’d just witnessed, the end was far more imminent than she’d thought. Her dear father, for all his good intentions, wouldn’t be able to stop the inevitable. The man who’d taken them in, given them everything they could ask for, would lose the home he’d known for decades. The house she’d grown up in. All of a sudden, her mother’s meddling didn’t seem so unnecessary. Selling the house would only be the tip of the iceberg. What about everything inside? Their lives would change drastically. And she could prevent it.

No, she
would
prevent it.

This was her chance. To finally repay her father for everything. To prove her worth. Brent had called her selfish. Perhaps he was right. Wouldn’t it be selfish to let her family suffer when she had the means to stop it? She’d never earned this life. It had been given to her. If she stood by and watched her father be stripped of possessions he’d graciously shared with her, she’d never forgive herself.

Five minutes later, she walked through the front door of her town house. Story stomped out into the foyer on her cell phone, irritation radiating from every inch of her.

“She’s here. Yes, she’s fine, but not for long.” Story hung up the phone. “Are you kidding me, dude? You text me with ‘I hear Greyhound buses are lovely this time of year’ and then vanish? Since when do you take the bus? Oh my God…you have amnesia, don’t you?” She crept forward. “Hayden, it’s me, Story.”

“Who was on the phone?”

“Brent.” When the device in question rang again, she hit ignore and shoved it into her jean shorts pocket. “And while we’re on the subject of Mr. Mason…anything you want to talk about?”

“Yeah. You want to be the witness at my wedding tomorrow?”

“Damn, Brent works fast.” Story laughed uncomfortably when Hayden didn’t react to her joke. “Why don’t you wait a few months and we can have a double wedding? We can get matching hairstyles.”

Hayden burst into tears.

“Okay, okay. We’ll wear light-up tiaras, too.” Story wrapped her arms around Hayden and led her into the living room. “Come on, honey. I have a feeling this talk is long overdue.”

“Liquor.” She sucked in a breath. “I need liquor.”

“That’s a given.”

…

Brent stood just inside Quincy’s, waiting for his to-go lunch. Matt stood propped against the wall to his left,
both
of them silent for once as they nursed Coca-Colas. Hoping to get some decent advice, he’d asked Matt to meet him there, but now he had nothing to say. It hurt to talk. Every joke sounded cheap and hollow to his ears. Every word reminded him of the spectacular shit-show the weekend had turned into. How badly he’d handled the confrontation with Hayden, severing the fragile tether between them with his big, stupid mouth. Pushing her until she’d been forced to hit him with that knockout punch.
A kept man.
Shit. A day later it still stung.

Then she’d gone and disappeared, driving him out of his mind with worry and hitting home just how hard he’d actually fallen for her in the process. If he’d had time to cool off after Lucy’s phone call, even just ten damn minutes, he might have been rational enough to communicate like a mature human being why her actions bothered him. Maybe right now he wouldn’t be sitting in a shit-stew of physical and mental fuckery. He could be sneaking a call to her on this lunch break, making plans to see her later, instead of waiting on notoriously overcooked French fries in silence with Matt. Not that he didn’t appreciate the company. He did. He’d just rather be talking to Hayden.

Now that he’d had a sleepless night and an equally shitty morning to replay yesterday’s scene in his mind, over and over, he kept stumbling on little roadblocks. Hayden’s confused reaction. The fact that paying Lucy’s tuition didn’t even feel like something she would do in the first place. The hurt on her face when he’d verbally cut down the bridge they’d managed to build over their differences. He loved their differences. Surprisingly, when it came right down to it, he didn’t care that she had a lot of money. She could be as rich as two Oprahs and his feelings would remain the same, because
she
would still be the same. He’d never be a big enough man to accept charity, but if accepting the differences in their bank accounts meant being with Hayden, the decision was a no-brainer. He wanted
her
.

For so long, he’d been written off as the wiseass in their group of friends. The one everyone counted on to make the dirty joke. The one everyone rolled their eyes at. Hayden saw more. She saw the man who relished his responsibility to his family. The man whose job didn’t make him insane, it made him committed. He’d even let down his guard in front of Daniel in Atlantic City thanks to Hayden’s influence. She made him better. She made him see that more was possible.

Convincing her to give him another chance would be a feat, especially after yesterday when he’d wasted no time in highlighting every reason they couldn’t work instead of all the reasons they
would
work. Off-the-charts sexual chemistry aside, he suspected they had more in common than either of them realized. They both loved a good fight. They showed one side of themselves to the world, keeping their compassion and vulnerabilities just under the surface. Family, duty, and responsibility meant everything to them both, even if their methods were vastly different. And hell…she fit right into his arms like she’d been molded for his body alone. He’d spent one night with her tucked against him and he was already ruined.

She’d talked about cannoli in her sleep. How ridiculously cute was that?

Oh God.
He’d hurt the feelings of a girl who talked about cannoli in her sleep. The girl who’d tucked her feet between his legs to warm her toes. The girl who woke up smiling in his bed. He’d seen her in the mirror along the wall and it had nearly burst his chest wide open. He’d actually
hurt
that girl.

Okay. Don’t panic yet
. He’d get through his shift and go see her. Apologizing to her voice mail and moping around like a heartsick Jolly Green Giant wouldn’t cut it any longer. He’d sit on her stoop and refuse to leave until she heard him out. Wasn’t that what Troy had done with Ruby? Brent checked his watch. Six hours. He had six hours to figure out the right words. The ones that would convince her to give him a chance. Give
them
a chance. It wouldn’t be easy, but he’d use everything in his arsenal.

“Hey, you know a good place to get roses around here? Not the cheap kind, like at the drugstore. Like, some legitimate roses that’ll make it through the night.”

Matt raised an eyebrow. “That’s it? You’ve been standing there thinking for twenty minutes and your big epiphany is
roses
?”

“Really
nice
roses.” Brent rolled his shoulders. “It’s just a start. She probably won’t even notice them, she’ll be so dazzled by my eloquent speech.”

“Is that so?”

“No.” Brent dropped his head onto his hands. “I’m fucked.”

After a moment, Matt sighed. “Listen, just be honest with her. Don’t make any excuses for whatever jackass move you pulled. Sometimes all they need to hear is sorry.” He sipped his drink. “It’s a classic male move. Leaving out the sorry.”