I shrug. “It is, for the most part,” I say. “But, Paige owns a bookstore in town. We've had coffee and talked a few times. Nice woman. Good conversationalist.”
Brayden studies me through the computer screen. Even online, his gaze is penetrating. Brayden knows me better than probably anybody else on the planet. He can always see right through me. Knows when I'm lying or hiding something. He knows all of my tells.
It's something that drives me absolutely batshit crazy about my younger brother.
“Good conversationalist, huh?” he asks.
“Very smart woman,” I say. “Very well read.”
“Uh huh,” he says, and I can hear the skepticism in his voice. “So, how long have you been banging her?”
A wry grin touches my lips. And even though snippets of our little encounter in the bookstore flash through my mind – and I feel my cock stiffening in response – I can answer his question honestly.
“I'm not,” I say simply. “I haven't slept with her.”
Brayden studies me, as if he's trying to discern the truth of the matter for himself.
“But, you want to,” he says.
“I didn't say that.”
“You don't have to.”
I chuckle and take another sip of coffee, racking my brain for a way to divert the conversation, which is veering into dangerous territory.
“Hey, I'm not judging,” Brayden says. “In fact, I think it's healthy for you.”
“Healthy.”
“Yeah,” he replies. “Help you get the taste of Brittany out of your mouth. You're young – well, youngish –”
“Eat shit,” I say and laugh. “You're only eighteen months younger than me.”
“That's still eighteen months younger,” he laughs. “But, you're young, relatively good looking, and rich – you probably should be out banging anything that moves. You should be knee-deep in panties in that fancy house of yours.”
“I doubt Janice would appreciate having to clean up that many pairs of panties.”
“She'd get over it,” he says. “In fact, she'd probably tell you exactly what I'm telling you.”
I laugh and shake my head. “I really doubt it,” I say. “Janice is kind of old-fashioned.”
The truth of the matter is that I'm not the kind of guy who is into random, casual flings. I did that when I was younger – before Brittany. And it's not really my style. It's not something I normally share, but I'm not the love 'em and leave 'em type. I crave connection with a partner. I crave something deeper than just the physical.
I mean, the physical is nice, and I enjoy it. And if the frustration got to be too much, I'd probably go to a bar and pick somebody up. But, it would be a last resort, really. My preference is to have a connection to who I'm sleeping with. To me, sex is just so much better that way.
Which makes me think about Paige and what we did in the shop again. I have a strong feeling that she and I are a lot alike in that way. And since I enjoyed what we did yesterday, and I know she did, does that mean we share a connection in that regard? Or was it just two people with a physical need, scratching an itch?
I don't know. It's yet another question in the long litany of questions I have when it comes to the woman who continues to perplex and confound me.
“Wait a second,” Brayden says, looking at me closely through the screen. “You actually like this woman.”
“What?” I scoff. “You don't know what you're talking about.”
“Sure, I do,” he says. “I know you, brother. And I can see that dreamy, starry-eyed look on your face when you simply mention her name.”
“You're being ridiculous,” I say and laugh.
“Am I?”
I stare at him for a moment and wonder to myself if he actually is being ridiculous or not. When it comes to my emotions, and especially Paige at the moment, nothing is clear to me. This is something that frustrates me to no end. I'm a man who is always clear-headed and rational. Cold, hard logic is second-nature to me and I've never been one given to flights of emotional fancy.
It's one of the things that makes me successful at what I do. I can take a situation, almost any situation, and quickly break it down and analyze it with a logical eye and rational thought. It allows me to see and anticipate problems, as well as quickly find ways to solve them. It was how I approached the situation with Brittany once I found out what she was up to.
But, that's not the case when it comes to Paige, however. When it comes to Paige, my mind is a chaotic mess. I can't seem to think straight or act logically. I don't know what it is about her, but she gets my head all twisted up in knots.
Not that I intend to tell Brayden that.
“Yes, you're being ridiculous,” I say. “Paige is a friend.”
“If you say so, big brother.”
I chuckle. “I do say so,” I say. “Now, I should get going. I need to shower and get on with my day. Some of us have work to do.”
“Hey, I'm working today.”
“I thought you were playing golf.”
“I'm meeting with a client who happens to love playing golf,” he says. “I'm just doing what dad taught us and am giving the client what they want and need.”
I grin at him. “Fair enough,” I say. “Good luck nailing down that deal.”
“I don't need luck,” he says. “I'm an Anderson. We make our own luck.”
“That we do.”
He looks at me for a long moment before we sign off and I can see the look of concern etched on his face.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Just – watch your back out there, Liam,” he says. “Something doesn't feel right about that whole situation.”
“I'm on it,” I say. “But, I don't think there's anything to worry about.”
“Yeah, well, watch your back anyway.”
“Will do.”
“Love you, big brother.”
“Love you too.”
I sign off the Skype session and lean back in my seat. Yeah, the more I think about it, the more I think Brayden is right – something doesn't feel right about the whole situation. How did Brittany know I would be at Grady's? And why didn't the mugger demand my wallet? He just attacked without word or warning. Looking back, it doesn’t seem like he was interested in my money at all.
I feel like I'm staring at a puzzle before it's put together. There are a ton of random pieces and I don't know how they all fit together. Not yet.
But I intend to find out.
Hemingway lifts his head and looks at me when I stand up, giving me a wag of his tail. Apparently, I'm not interesting enough though, because he lays his head back down and goes right back to snoozing.
I walk out of my office and down to my bedroom, shutting the door behind me. I strip down and step into the bathroom, turning on the faucet in the walk-in shower, and wait for the water to warm up. When steam starts billowing out of the shower and filling the bathroom, I walk in and step beneath the waterfall of water.
I turn around and run my hands through my hair, letting the water rain down on me. The cut on my arms stings beneath the water at first, but it soon fades away. The heat though, works through my sore muscles, loosening them up, and I slowly start to feel human again.
Standing beneath the fall of water, I let it work its magic on me, letting the heat work out the aches and pains in my body. Slowly, as my muscles loosen up, so does my mind. The fog in my head starts to lift and my brain starts to clear.
And as it does, I see Paige's face peering at me through the dissipating fog. I see those bottomless black eyes framed in that perfect alabaster colored face. See the hair, darker than a raven's wing, pooling down over her shoulders.
From there, my memories take control and I'm flashing back to the bookstore. To what we did. I recall the sensation of her body pressed against mine. The feel of her lips. Her tongue. The way she touched me with her small, delicate hands. I remember the scent of her. The taste of her. I recall the feeling of having my tongue inside of her. The way her juices dripped down my chin.