One
Trix
She watched her friend, Tanner, kiss his fiancée again then checked her watch, wondering two things.
First, why she’d come back to California in the first place.
And second, what the hell kind of drugs she’d been on when agreeing to this date in the first place.
The only good thing about it was that she had buffers: Tanner and his fiancée, Kelsey. Heather, her half-sister and the only decent member of her family, along with Heather’s husband, Clay, who was pretty to look at and not too annoying.
For a man.
Probably not the best attitude to have going into a blind date, but she’d shown up, hadn’t she?
Anyway, the dinner had also meant she’d been able to see Tanner. She’d met the photographer in sub-Saharan Africa almost five years before while she’d been working and he’d been documenting the health crisis for the Red Cross. They’d kept in touch, and he’d invited her to his wedding. It had been a surprise to both of them that they each knew Heather.
But that was the way the O’Keiths worked.
Infiltrating their way into everyone’s lives.
Even if they didn’t want it.
Regardless, she was back in California for the time being, ready to begin a new chapter in her life.
Apparently, that meant starting by dating.
At least, that was Heather’s logic.
Or maybe Trix’s own brand of stupid.
Still, whatever it was that had convinced her to come, she was there now and was going to make the best of it.
Or at least that had been her thought until she recognized who was approaching the table.
Him.
Trix slammed her eyes closed and counted to five.
It could not be him.
Could not—
She opened her eyes.
Clay was on his feet, shaking the man’s hand, shaking Jet’s hand, and making introductions all around. Heather looked thrilled, probably because Jet was gorgeous and funny and smart—
“And this is Heather’s sister, Trix. She’s a nurse.”
Jet knew that.
Because he knew her. Intimately.
The doctor and the nurse. So cliché. So stupid on her part to think that things in her life might have turned out differently.
He’d been smiling as he turned to meet her, and it was almost comical to see his expression darken to fury. Or it would have, if that fury hadn’t been directed at her. By then his hand was already in hers, mid-shake and fuck if his touch didn’t still make sparks shoot down her arm.
She went to pull back, but he held fast then jerked her forward, as though he were giving her a hug in greeting.
No one at the table could see that he was hissing in her ear.
“What the fuck are you playing at, Trixie?”
She did some hissing of your own. “Nothing. I had no idea this date was you otherwise I sure as hell wouldn’t have come,” she snapped, ignoring the way his scent coiled her stomach, sending little tendrils of heat down between her thighs. “You’re the last person I’d want to see at this table. And that includes my parents or maybe even Hitler, you freaking asshole.”
“Trixie,” he began.
“Fuck off, Jet,” she said, then pulled back and plunked into her chair, not about to ruin everyone’s night just because she couldn’t stand the man she’d been set up with.
She’d endure.
It was what she did.
Jet sat down next to her, and she tried to force herself not to look.
She didn’t succeed.
And what she saw on his face wasn’t fury, not any longer. It was weariness.
Good. After what he’d done to her, she deserved a man treading around her with a bit of hesitation. She’d been hurt before—heartsick and sad, a few times even devastated—when her relationships had ended.
But Jet had broken her.
He was the one man she’d let in, with whom she’d shared her past and hopes, her pain and desires. So maybe he wouldn’t understand how important what she’d shared was because she’d spent so long being closed down with everyone around her. Maybe he couldn’t have realized how hard it had been for her to give what she’d given. But part of her felt like . . . he should have known. Especially since he’d shown about as much care with her exposed and vulnerable heart as a physician tossing a soiled bandage onto the floor.
For a nurse to pick up.
Because that was all she’d ever been to him.
A convenient place to stash his dick before he’d tossed her aside, dirty and used, and she had to cobble herself together enough to throw away those pathetic hopes she’d been hanging on to.
“Trixie,” he murmured.
She smiled brightly and picked up the menu. “I’ve heard the prickly pear margaritas are delicious,” she announced to the table at large.
As she knew it would, that turned the conversation to Kelsey, who had proclaimed her love of the cocktail far and wide as they’d all chatted a few minutes before. This jumpstarted the bantering with the table at large, and pretty soon, the waiter came over to take their orders.
All through dinner, she managed to keep the conversation light, to keep her physical and verbal distance from Jet while still pretending to get to know him enough to satisfy the others at the table.
Her fatal flaw began when she slipped away to use the bathroom.
Because when she came out, Jet was standing in the hall.
Sniffing, she started to move past him.
His hand on her arm stilled her.
“What, Jet?” she snapped. “What could you possibly have to say to me?”
A growl. “Nothing.”
“Good.”
“Everything.”
He kissed her, and the world went topsy-turvy.
Two
Jet
In fairness, the smack of Trixie’s palm across his cheek was probably warranted.
They hadn’t seen each other in nearly three years, not since he’d packed up and moved on to another assignment.
And part of the reason he’d packed up was because he’d known he’d never get what he needed from Trix.
Selfish? Yes.
The truth? Also, yes.
Cutting ties before he got even more connected, before it got even harder to leave? Painful, but necessary.
Trixie was beautiful. She was fun to be with, hilarious, and the most low-maintenance person he’d ever met. She didn’t need anyone’s help. She got her shit done and did it well.
Which had been part of the problem.
He hadn’t felt needed, hadn’t felt loved. He’d had scraps tossed his way or held back in reserve, and he knew he couldn’t live with that.
He needed more.
And circling back to selfish. But look, he knew himself, knew how much he enjoyed being with Trix, but he also knew he couldn’t have a future with a woman he felt shut out from, one who preferred to exist in two side-by-side lives rather than two intertwined ones. After his childhood, after spending so much time being shut out and trying—and failing—to earn his parents’ love, Jet knew he couldn’t go through that again.
It wasn’t sustainable, and so he’d torn off the Band-Aid.
Quick and painless.
Of course, it had definitely been the first, just not the second.