Was she wearing a garter belt?
HR would have a fucking field day if they knew I was admiring her luscious ass that swayed with each step she walked. She knew exactly what she was doing and what I was thinking, only fueling the fire raging inside of me.
Her narrow hips.
Her ample breasts.
She was sporting diamond earrings, a gold bracelet, a solitaire diamond necklace, and a gold watch with an oversized designer bag tucked in the nook of her arm. Topping her outfit off with red, sky-high fuck-me heels just as I presumed when she was sitting down. She had more makeup on than I’d ever seen on her before.
She was a goddess.
An angel.
Making me realize this was what Hell looked like.
Despite her temper tantrum, our connection was still alive and thriving all around us. It felt like forever had passed, waiting for her to walk by me. I contemplated if she must have felt the same way when it came to me all those years ago.
She was constantly waiting for me to admit I had feelings for her. Never understanding how it didn’t matter if I had. We couldn’t be together.
Not then.
Not now?
Too many emotions and questions tore through my mind in those brief seconds, one right after the other with no end in sight. I couldn’t believe she was there with me, in my building, and with this unexpected ambush by my team of all places.
The clicking sound of her heels vibrated deep within my core with each step she took. One by one it added to all the chaos erupting in my mind. I had questions, and I wasn’t going to stop until she answered each one of them to my satisfaction.
My head was already throbbing, a migraine was looming, and I was surprised I could still fucking see straight with the uncertainty racing through my body.
All I wanted to do was pull her into my arms and have her stop with the games she was trying to play. The wall she’d built against me was so thick, so high, so solid that for the first time in I didn’t know how long, I feared I might lose this sudden battle between us.
I’d never lost at anything, except maybe her…
When she walked past me, I growled at my impulsive thought and grabbed her hand, tugging her back toward me. She instantly misplaced her footing and fell into my lap, catching herself on my chest.
As soon as she realized her lips were now inches away from mine, she gasped. The scent of her surrounded us, and for a moment, I almost lost control.
Almost.
Instead I rasped, “You can play this game all you want, but we both know it’s only a matter of time until you’re in my bed again, sweetheart.”
She pushed off my chest, standing tall in front of me. “If you ever speak to me like that again, Mr. Locke, I won’t just report you to Human Resources—I’ll sue you for everything you’re worth.”
I smiled, unable to remember the last time I’d done that either. Eyeing her up and down, I didn’t hesitate.
Speaking with conviction, I boldly stated, “As you know, kid, I never back down from a challenge.” Before she could shove me away again, I leaned forward and gripped onto the back of her neck, roughly bringing her to me.
When our lips were centimeters apart, I declared, “Consider this war, Miss Troy.”
Meaning every last word.
Chapter THREE
—Autumn—
Then
“Why is this junkyard so far away?” I asked, sitting in the backseat of Christian’s truck while he drove.
Our parents had just bought it for his sixteenth birthday last week, saying he deserved it for being such a great son, friend, and big brother.
Christian wasn’t like other brothers, not like most of my friends’ siblings anyway. He was always nice to me and enjoyed having me around. Even though we were six years apart, he didn’t make me feel like I was a little girl who couldn’t hang around with him. He usually let me tag along with them wherever they went.
It was only the four of us, well, five of us because Julian never went home. He stayed at our house almost every night, and he even had his own room. Mom turned one of our guest bedrooms into his own space for his tenth birthday.
I didn’t remember since I was only four years old at the time, but it was one of her favorite memories to share with us. Saying he never looked happier than he did the moment she’d surprised him with what she did for only him.
He was part of our family—always had been, always would be.
Julian didn’t know his real parents. He was raised in the system, going from foster home to foster home. I didn’t really understand what that meant, but I guessed the state-owned him until he was eighteen—a legal adult.
A man.
Julian always acted older than he actually was, though. Our parents said it was from him having to grow up fast.
Sitting in the passenger seat, he turned around to look at me. “When you see my new baby, you’ll know why we drove so far away, kid.”
I smiled.
I loved it when he called me kid. It was his nickname for me. No one else called me that, only him.
It was our thing.
“Is it like Christian’s baby?”
I’d learned at an early age what cars and trucks meant to boys and how they called them their babies. Both of them loved vehicles since we lived in Fort Worth, Texas. Near NASCAR and street races, but Julian really loved them.
Cars were his everything.
He worked at a junkyard by our house, close enough he could ride his dirt bike through the woods before he got his driver’s license a month ago. He’d been working there for the last four years helping Big Ben with all his classic cars.
Most of the time he wore a black cowboy hat or some sort of backward hat with a white t-shirt and jeans. His clothes were usually covered in oil or grease, and his hands and nails were normally stained with it too.
He smelled like gasoline and motor oil, and it was one of my favorite smells because it reminded me of him. I even stole one of his hoodies, and he never asked for it back.
Julian didn’t like to feel like a burden on our parents, so he always tried to help out whenever he could. Buying random things at the grocery store or ordering food for us for lunch and dinner.
One time he tried to help out with the water bill, and it made our mom very sad. She started crying, telling him he didn’t have to worry about adult responsibilities, and it was their job to provide for us.
A couple of years ago my parents wanted to adopt him, but Julian said no. Saying what they already did for him was enough. I still had nightmares about the time he’d shown up at our house with bruises on his face and body. I thought he’d been in a fight at school. Sometimes that happened. He had a short fuse and bad temper which got him into trouble a lot.
Especially with his foster parents.
In this situation, his foster dad beat him up pretty badly, and Daddy got really mad.
Since he was a super important and successful district attorney, he was able to pull strings and get him out of that placement. They put him in a home closer to ours, and that made us all very happy.
Christian met Julian in preschool, and from the moment they exchanged fist bumps they were best friends.
All my friends were in love with my brother and his best friend. But Julian was mine; he just didn’t know it yet. The thought alone made my belly flutter and my face flush. I had to look out the window so Christian wouldn’t see. He was very protective over me, even when it came down to his best friend.