Bad Impressions (Revive Me #1) (3 page)

For a brief moment, I thought about sneaking out the back, so I wouldn’t have to deal with her. But I wasn’t a pussy. I was already dodging one woman that made me look like I was. But it was different with Crazy Claire. I was doing my best to avoid her husband finding out about me fucking his wife. The way she was going with her ridiculous obsession with me, it was fast becoming inevitable. I wasn’t scared of the asshole. It wasn’t that. Her husband was no threat to me. If it came down to it, I could take him down before he even threw a punch.
But
I couldn’t get into a fight. Not with anyone.

I had…control issues. Since that day with my dad…
shit, not going there.

“Brad!” Mom’s call forced me from my thoughts.
Thank Christ.

I looked down to see her waving me over.

I made my way down there. Soph looked up and caught my eye. “Soph,” I said, politely.

She gave me a curt head nod.
Hmm…more than I’d expected from her after the other night.

“Sophie’s going to help me out here a few days a week. Isn’t that great?” Mom exclaimed, bouncing up and down excitedly.

Well, that was a shock and a half. I hadn’t seen that one coming.

I had no idea why. I looked at Soph standing there, dressed all business-like. My Mom was holding her resume in her hand. It seemed like a pretty easy deduction. I’d just been too distracted to notice the evidence staring me in the face.

“There’s no one outside of you who knows more about literature than Soph,” I said. “Seems like a perfect fit to me.”

Soph beamed at my compliment. Seeing her smile, because of me, warmed me in ways that I hadn’t felt in a long damn time.

Mom looked between us and I saw the suspicion there.

I was about to shut it down, before it could start, but she beat me to it, saying to Soph, “Brad and I were gonna get coffee, but I have a few more things to finish up here first. Why don’t you two go together? Head back in a couple of hours when we’re open and I’ll give you a tour; show you how things work?”

Soph hesitated. But then she made the mistake of making direct eye contact with my Mom. She had that imploring gaze of hers locked and loaded at maximum power. Nobody could deny it.

And, sure enough, Soph murmured a weak and
very
awkward, “Uh…yeah. Sure.”

“Great!” Mom said, clapping her hands, either completely unaware of the tension in the fucking room, or not caring.

Fucking hell.
As Soph headed for the door, I shook my head at my mom, before dragging my feet and reluctantly following after Soph.

***

We stepped out of the coffee shop a little while later.

I sipped at my black coffee, while Soph held her over-sugared and creamed coffee in her right hand and clutched my mom’s in her left.

She’d insisted on safeguarding it herself, saying something about wanting to make a good impression. I held back with pointing out that my mom already had a well-formed impression of her. She loved her. She had for years. I couldn’t count the number of conversations the two of them had had about this book and that when we were growing up. Whenever my dad wasn’t around, Soph would be there, talking with her. Never when my dad was there though. Soph had been terrified of him growing up. And she had good fucking instincts. He was a dangerous man.
I
wouldn’t have allowed her anywhere near him even if she hadn’t harbored such a dislike for him.

“Ollie never mentioned that your mom had opened a bookstore,” she said as we navigated our way over to a bench a few steps from the coffee house.

“You know Ollie and his tunnel vision.”

Ollie wasn’t the most perceptive guy. He just didn’t notice things. He was always stuck in his own head most of the time. Thinking about it now, it was a godsend, given what had gone down with me and his sister. If he’d been a little more aware of his surroundings and shit, he probably would’ve noticed.
Especially
, in the immediate aftermath. Soph wasn’t great about hiding how she felt and she’d been living in their house for a few days after we’d…been together…before she’d headed off back to college. The evidence had been right there under his nose and it’d worried the fuck out of me, thinking he was gonna find out. But I’d been freaked out for no good reason, because he’d been completely oblivious.

Soph turned to me then, looking at me directly for the first time since we’d left the bookstore.

“She seems much better now.” Her eyes sparkled with that familiar gentleness.

I nodded. “Yeah. She is. It took a while.”

“Is that why....”

“Why what?”

“Forget it.”

“When have you ever held your tongue when you’ve had something to say?” I challenged. What was going on with her? Why wasn’t she herself? Why was she holding back and so…hesitant and shy?
What’s happened to her?

She looked uncomfortable as hell, but she finally said, “Is she why you didn’t go back to college? Why you stayed here?”

“Yeah.”

I looked away, thinking breaking eye contact would end it. I didn’t talk about it…what’d happened back then, so I wanted to shut it the hell down before it even really got started.

Her hand brushed my knuckles.

“I’m sorry, Brad.”

Hearing the softness in her voice, having her touch me…
fuck
…it was my kryptonite.

I adjusted my weight on the bench and smoothly pulled my hand away.
Phew
.

I brought my coffee cup to my lips and eyed her over the rim. She was fixing me with that imploring
talk-to-me
gaze of hers. There was no way I was gonna talk about my mom and all that shit. No fucking way. I wasn’t capable. Not yet. Probably never.
Time to change the subject.

I looked her over and smirked. “Hmm.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” I said, grinning at her.

“I know that look. What’s so funny? My outfit?”

I laughed. I couldn’t help it. I found the whole thing hilarious. “You want a trench coat to go with it?”

“What does that mean?” she asked, looking down at herself. “What’s wrong with it?”

“You look like you just stepped out of a convent,” I said, reaching for her blouse. My fingers brushed the top button. “What’s this all about?” I laughed.

“Hey!” she protested, batting my hand away.

She placed the coffees on the ground and then reached for her blouse. I watched, mesmerized, as she started to undo the top button.
Urgh. What the hell’s wrong with me?

“Better?” she asked, cocking an eyebrow at me.

I shook my head. “A couple more.”

She huffed, but took my advice anyway.
Just like old times.
She fanned out her collar and looked to me for my approval. “Now?”

“Much better. Now you’ve graduated from nun to naughty librarian,” I teased.

She slapped my arm. “Pervert!”

When it came to her, definitely. She had no fucking idea.

I lowered my coffee to the floor, safely away from her dangerous hands. She made an attempt to slap me again, but I caught her wrist mid-strike.

She gasped at the sudden contact. But, instead of trying to pull away, she just stared at me.

Jesus Christ. She isn’t making this easy on me.
I couldn’t stop myself.

I leaned in closer. “Don’t look at me like that, darlin’.”

“Like what?” she breathed in a hoarse whisper.
God.
She was so fucking turned on. I could hear it in her voice, see it in her flushed cheeks and the intensity in her eyes.

And it was skyrocketing my arousal to the danger zone. The point of no return.

I tried not to breathe in too deeply, because the sweet smell of her was driving me crazy already. She always smelled so good, just like fresh-cut flowers.

I whispered in her ear and she trembled at the feel of my breath on her neck, “Like you want me to hike up your skirt, spread those sexy-as-sin thighs of yours and taste you right here in the middle of the high street.”

She pulled back, gasping. Her eyes were wide at my words.

“Would you
call
this time?” she rasped, her eyes on fire.

Shit.
I wanted to give her what she wanted more than anything. What
I
wanted. But it was wrong for so many reasons, reasons she couldn’t even comprehend as she fired her
fuck-me-right-the-hell-now
look at me.

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t reel her in like that.

She deserved better.

“No,” I forced myself to utter.

Her eyes narrowed. “You’re such a coward.”

What. The. Fuck?
“Coward?” I seethed.

She hastily grabbed the coffee cups off the floor and stood up in a rush. “Yeah. You heard me,
Bradley
.”

“You know I don’t do relationships. What did you expect? Hearts and flowers? That shit isn’t me.”

“That isn’t it and you know it.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

She blew out a frustrated breath. “Forget it.”

I grabbed her arm, stopping her attempted exit.

She glared at me fiercely. “Let go or I’ll pour this scalding hot coffee over your lap. See how your whorish, playboy dick likes
that
.”

Wow. Vicious.
I released her and she ran off towards the bookstore.

“Shit,” I breathed, running my hands through my hair roughly.

Chapter 3

~Sophie~

Wrapping myself in a towel, I stepped out of the bathroom and walked down the hall to my old bedroom.

I’d arrived home a little over an hour ago. Working with Kate Marsh at the bookstore had been one of the best days I’d had in a long while. I was so grateful for the job. Sitting around the house with nothing to do was like torture to me. I always had to be doing something or it drove me crazy.

My brother wasn’t home. He’d called and said he was working late on a job. Something about a roof. I didn’t really understand any of that. He worked in construction. He owned
Clinton Construction
. He’d taken over the family business after our parents had died several years ago.

I was a little disappointed that he wouldn’t be home until much later. We hadn’t had a chance to catch up and I always enjoyed spending time with my brother. We usually fell into old habits and ended up doing hours-long video game marathons and binge-watching action movies. It was comforting. Just the kind of thing I craved right now.

It was good to be home. I felt…safe.
Finally.

It was dark in the room and I crossed to my left bedside table and flipped on the little lamp there. It didn’t offer much light at all. It looked like the bulb was almost burned out. But it was enough to see what I was doing, so I left it. I didn’t want the main light on. It was
too
bright and I was in the mood to relax tonight, so soft lighting was my preference.

I walked to the chest of drawers in the corner to grab some pajamas. Then I figured I’d get some snacks from downstairs and pig out and watch a couple of movies by myself.

My room was exactly as I’d left it. Ollie hadn’t changed a thing.

My over-stuffed bookcases lined one wall. My sleigh bed sat prominently in the center of the room. I smiled as I scanned the pictures stuck to the heart-shaped mirror on my dresser. I’d taken most of them during high school. They held so many memories. I laughed as I caught sight of one of my best friend, Tiffany Baxter. She’d kill me if I showed anyone that one. She was wearing braces, some God-awful neon pink frilly dress and had to be about twelve. Definitely, her awkward phase.

The front door slammed shut downstairs suddenly, startling me.

Ollie must have finished work early after all.

I opened my middle drawer and pulled out a matching set of baby-blue silk pajamas.

As I carried them over to my bed, I heard footsteps hurrying up the stairs.

“You’re home early after all,” I called over my shoulder.

“I’m not a coward.”

I froze in place. It wasn’t Ollie’s voice.

Brad. Shit.
Brad Marsh was standing behind me. In my
bedroom.

“What are you doing here, Brad?” I demanded, without bothering to spare him a glance, trying to keep the nervous waver out of my voice. And I had no intention of being nice either. He didn’t deserve any niceties from me. He’d pissed me off twice in the last day or so.

“I’m not a coward, Soph. I had my reasons for what I did. I was protecting you.”

“Protecting me?” I scoffed.

His heavy footsteps shook the room and I spun around.